Crazy Little Thing Called Love (20 page)

In good weather.

The ER doctor came in, slipping out of the raincoat someone had handed her and joining Vanessa and the other doctor.

“I thought we could stabilize him here with pain meds and antibiotics.” Her forehead furrowed over her glasses, which were splattered with raindrops. “He's diffusely tender—I'm afraid his appendix may have perforated. You need to get antibiotics on board now.”

Vanessa hadn't expected to hear anything different.

“I'll radio Eglin you're on the way.” The other doctor headed for the nurses' station.

“And I'll go get the piggyback antibiotics for you to run while you're on the way there.”

Vanessa backed toward the door. “And I need to go tell the mom—and my driver—that we're not stopping here.”

She tapped on the driver's-side window, motioning to Logan.

Logan started asking questions before he was fully out of the car. “Do you want me to help Christian? Or is someone else coming—”

“We have to go on to Eglin Air Force Base Hospital.”

He stared at her as if she'd told him he had to perform surgery on Christian. “What?”

“The ORs are down—the generators are out . . .”

“They can still handle him here.”

“No, Logan, they can't.”

Logan looked around as if he wanted to hit something, clenching and unclenching his fists, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “I agreed to transport him here, Vanessa. Let someone else take Christian to Eglin in one of their ambulances—”

“They're already swamped transporting urgent cases. The ER doc examined him. She thinks he needs surgery—that his appendix may have perforated and that he's developing peritonitis.”

“Vanessa—
English
.”

“His appendix may have ruptured, and he's developing a spreading infection in his abdomen. It could kill him.”

The glass doors slid open as the ER doctor came out carrying a clear IV bag and some tubing.

“Here are your antibiotics. Get 'em on board as soon as possible. We've already told Eglin you're on the way.”

Vanessa nodded and turned back to Logan. “Let's go.”

When Logan stopped her, opening his mouth to say something, she shook off his hand and pushed past him.

“I need to get these antibiotics running.
Now.
Unless you're praying, there's nothing more to say. And you can pray while you're driving.”

The first day of spring break, and all she could do was cry. Logan was going to wish she'd stayed home.

At least he'd listened to her—finally—and gone out with everyone else for lunch and to hang out on the beach. Vanessa had kept repeating, “I just have a bad headache, that's all. I'll take a nap and feel better,” pushing Logan out the door. Asking him to bring her back some Coke had done the trick.

How was she going to tell him that her parents were insisting she go to Colorado while her father was deployed overseas for a year? For the past few months, she'd refused to tell Logan, thinking her parents would change their minds. But no matter how many times she said she wouldn't leave Florida, her mother replied, “We'll do what's best for the family,” and walked away.

First they moved during her senior year of high school—although she had met Logan because of that—and now they were making her move again. Right before they left for Pensacola, her mother handed her applications for several colleges in Colorado. She couldn't think of any way to win the argument except to keep saying, “I'm going to Florida State.”

Stalemate.

A knock on the motel room door halted the fresh flow of tears. Who was that? Everyone had left less than an hour ago.

She peered through the little glass viewer, unlocking the door when she realized Logan stood in the hallway outside her room.

“What are you doing here?”

He held up a two-liter bottle of Coke and a plastic lemon filled with lemon juice. “I brought you some soda—and this will have to do for lemon.”

“I meant for you to bring it to me after lunch.”

He shrugged. “And I decided to bring it to you now. Hey—” He traced the tear stains along her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “—how bad is your headache?”

When Vanessa threw herself into his arms, Logan dropped the plastic bottle of soda onto the floor and held her.

“What's going on, Vanessa? Come on, you're scaring me. Did somebody die or something?”

She shook her head, forcing herself to take a deep breath. “My parents are . . . are forcing me to go to Colorado in the fall.”

“What? They can't do that.” Logan gripped her tighter. “You've been accepted to FSU—we're both going. It's all planned out.”

“My mom keeps saying it's only for a year—she wants the family together while my dad's deployed.”

“Your dad's deploying?”

“Yes. I'm sorry. I haven't told you that yet.” She twisted out of his arms and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don't get it. Why does my mom have to go back to Colorado? And why do I have to go with her?”

“But, Vanessa—you're eighteen. They can't make you do anything anymore.”

“Oh, Logan, that doesn't matter to my parents. They're paying my college tuition, so I have to do what they say.”

Logan paced back and forth in front of her, not even bothering to pick up the soda bottle that had rolled next to the window. “You don't want to move, do you?”

Vanessa shoved her hair out of her face. “You know I don't.”

“And you want to go to Florida State, right?”

“Logan . . . why are you asking me this?” She buried her face in her hands.

He came and sat down next to her on the bed. “Vanessa, you know I love you—”

She didn't hesitate to answer his question. “I do, Logan. I do.”

“And you . . . you love me, too?”

Heat flushed up her neck and across her face. Logan had never asked her that straight out. And she'd never said she loved him, either—no matter how many times he told her. It wasn't that she didn't love him . . . she just held the words so close to her heart, as fragile as the china figurine he'd given her for Christmas. Once she admitted how she felt, once the words were out there, she couldn't take them back.

She traced the outline of his face, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I do. . . . I—I do.”

Her answer caused him just a moment's hesitation, and then he said, “Then marry me.”

“What?”

“Marry me.” He leapt to his feet again, resuming his pacing. “It's the perfect solution—the only solution. If we're married, then your parents can't tell us what to do.”

She fisted the bedspread. “You're serious.”

“I am. Remember I told you that my grandpa was eighteen when he married my grandmother—and remember how long they were married!” He grabbed her hands, pulled her up, and spun her around the room. “Come on, Vanessa, I just proposed! Say yes!”

Logan's words and actions tilted Vanessa's world—and yet she wanted to lean into everything he offered her. Himself. A future together. Them becoming a family. Stability. Marrying Logan meant so much more than going to FSU. . . . For a few moments, she allowed herself to be caught up in Logan's embrace, their laughter silenced by a kiss that stole her breath away.

And then the weight of reality pulled Vanessa back to earth. Married. To Logan. But that meant her parents wouldn't pay for college.

“Logan, what about my tuition?”

“We'll apply for loans. Lots of kids do.” Logan held on to her hands, his smile unwavering. “Look, the gang's all at lunch, and then they're going to the beach. Let's do this! We can get on my motorcycle and drive over the state line to Alabama and find a justice of the peace or whatever to marry us.”

“But don't we need a license or something before we get married?”

“I don't know . . .” His ran his fingers through his long hair. “All right. Let me do some checking around. It may take me a day to figure this out—and we might have to at least tell Mindy what we're up to. One way or the other, we're getting married this week—and then we're going to college together in the fall. Say yes, Vanessa. Please?”

Vanessa stared into Logan's electric-blue eyes. He seemed so sure. He was offering her the chance to own her life. The two of them becoming
the Hollisters—
no parents having a say in what they did or didn't do. To stop moving around at the whim of the military.

And Logan did love her.

And just because she couldn't say the words “I love you” yet, that didn't mean she didn't really love him, too. She was just being cautious.

“Yes, Logan. Yes.”

•  •  •

Logan stopped Vanessa from opening the door to the ground-floor motel room in Alabama.

“What are you doing, Logan?”

“Hey, we've only been married three hours, but I do know the tradition.” Before she could stop him, he picked her up in his arms, kicked the door open, and carried her into the room. Then he deposited her in the center of the room, giving her a swift kiss—the realization that his action was a prelude of what the night held for them causing his heart to thud faster in his chest.

“What was that?” Vanessa couldn't stop laughing as she slid the strap of her sundress back in place.

“I carried you over the threshold. It's tradition when you're just married.”

“Well, now you have to go back out and get the suitcase.”

“No problem, Mrs. Hollister.” He saluted her as he exited through the door.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Hollister.”

After he placed the suitcase on the bed, Vanessa rummaged through it, pulling out the T-shirt with an airbrushed design of a beach sunset he'd bought her the day before.

“I, um, think I'll take a quick shower. Is that okay?”

A shower? They'd been here less than five minutes. What was he supposed to do while she took a shower? Watch TV? “Sure. Go ahead. It's been a long—and adventure-filled—day.”

With the soft click of the bathroom door, Logan was left alone.

He was a married man. Vanessa Hollister was his wife.

He twisted Vanessa's class ring around the pinkie finger on his left hand, a short huff of air escaping between his pursed lips. He'd managed to get a marriage license—but forgotten they'd need wedding rings. Vanessa had improvised, not hesitating for a moment when he slipped his class ring on her finger, a giggle escaping as she moved it to her thumb, where it was still a bit too large. And now he wore her class ring, but only after promising to buy her a proper wedding band once they got home.

And now . . . it was their wedding night. How could he ensure he handled that right?

The motel room was old. Brown. No other way to describe it. The walls were painted a beige-brown. The curtains were a faded tan, and the bedspread was dark brown threaded through with lackluster gold. Well, he couldn't change that now. He couldn't afford anything else. But he'd make it up to Vanessa—someday. Maybe on their first anniversary he'd find a way to surprise her and take her to a nicer hotel in Destin.

He paced the confines of the room. Why was he daydreaming about next year? He needed to figure out what he was supposed to do tonight.

Vanessa was taking a shower. Just how long was she going to be in there, anyway? Should he get in bed . . . be waiting for her when she came out? Or would that seem a bit presumptuous, like he was thinking,
What took you so long?

After all this time, he wouldn't have to stop, wouldn't have to tell himself,
Don't go there . . . don't think about Vanessa like that . . .

He was waiting in a motel room while Vanessa . . . his wife . . . was on the other side of the closed bathroom door, taking a shower.

Hey.

A shower sounded kind of nice.

He sat on the bed, pulled off his worn tennis shoes, stuffing the socks inside. A prayer stuttered across his mind, seeming to keep pace with the pounding of his heart.

God, we did the right thing. . . I mean, Vanessa and I waited until we got married for this. And yeah, maybe we got married a little sooner than expected . . . but we're eighteen. Adults.

What had his grandfather said? “You either get married young—and you grow up together. Or you get married when you're older—and you still grow up together.”

And we didn't do anything illegal, although I know our parents aren't going to like it.

The prayer stalled.

Now was not the time to think about their parents. Somehow he'd stopped praying and started defending their actions.

Just help me, God, please? I don't want to mess this up.

He knocked on the door.

“Logan?” Vanessa's voice was muffled. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He eased the door open. Stepped inside the bathroom, the steam scented with Vanessa's floral shampoo enticing him closer. “I, uh, just thought a shower sounded like a good idea.”