Love Still Stands (36 page)

“Me too.”

“But the fact that you’re here in this sleigh with me gives me hope.”

“Hope?” A flush of warmth that had nothing to do with the robe or the warming stones
coursed through her. “Hope of what?”

“That I don’t always have to be content with being an
onkel
. I could maybe one day be a daed.”

“Elijah.”

“Don’t start with the reasons against that. Start with the hope that there could be
more.”

“I want to, but—”

“No buts. God is bigger than we are. With God all things are possible.”

“We don’t know what God’s plan is. What if His plan is for you to have children and
not for me?”

“You’re right. We don’t know what God’s plan is. That’s why it’s called faith.”

She swallowed words of misgiving.

“Do you like me, Bethel?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“Do you like me?”

“It’s not enough.”

“Answer my question. I need an answer.”

“I do.”

“What is that?” His gaze, so intent and so unavoidable, at that moment shifted beyond
her. He frowned. “Is that a truck?”

She swiveled to follow his pointing finger. “It looks like the back end of a truck.”

“That it’s in a ditch isn’t a good sign.”

“I wonder if there’s someone in it.”

Bethel grabbed the side of the sleigh as Elijah made a sudden turn and headed toward
the ditch along the road that led to the Shirack farm. In a matter of minutes they
slid to a stop a few yards from the shiny red pickup. The
tick, tick
sound of a warm engine told her it hadn’t been there long.

“Stay here.” Elijah leaped from the sleigh. “There’s a man on the driver’s side.”

Bethel could see that. She followed suit and wrestled her crutches from the back seat.
Not that they would help much in three feet of snow. Fortunately, the hard-packed
crust held and she managed to hobble her way toward the truck.

“What are you doing? I said stay in the sleigh.”

She didn’t let Elijah’s pique stop her. The wind took her breath away. She banged
on the window. Slowly, the glass came down.

“Darlin’, how do you like my new wheels?” The gravel in Shawn’s voice sounded even
rougher than usual. The smell of something like gunpowder wafted from the truck. A
huge rubber balloon deflated over the steering wheel. Blood trickled from a gash over
his forehead. “I came to take you for a ride.”

Chapter 33

T
rying not to look at Shawn, Bethel tugged on the truck door. The bank of snow kept
it from budging. His expression unreadable, Elijah reached in front of her, applied
force, and jerked it open. Still avoiding his gaze, she leaned in to inspect Shawn.
The
schtinkich
of cigarette smoke wafted out. The rubber bag that had exploded from the steering
wheel covered Shawn from the waist down. His glassy-eyed face was white except for
the blood on his forehead and under his nose. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s just a scratch, sweetheart.” He grinned up at her. The slur in his words reminded
her of the night he’d visited her at the farm. “Although I think the airbag broke
my nose and maybe a couple of fingers. Ain’t that a hoot? It’s supposed to protect
you and it smacks you around big time.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” Embarrassment washed over her in a drowning wave. Elijah
stood on one shore, Shawn on the other, Bethel in the river, the water over her head.
“Do you hurt anywhere?”

“I can’t feel my legs.” He guffawed. “Oh, right, I couldn’t feel them before I slid
off the road into a ditch.”

Elijah stuck his hands on his hips and shook his head. “How can you be driving?”

“These days us guys can do a lot we couldn’t do before.” Pride mixed with belligerence
in the words. “I drive with my hands.”

“Too bad you didn’t do a better job.”

“Now’s not the time.” Aware of Elijah’s questioning gaze, Bethel steadied herself
against the truck’s door and forced herself to look at him. “We need to get him to
the hospital.”

“Can we move him ourselves, do you think?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” The slur worsened, causing Bethel’s concern
to grow. Shawn wiped at his nose and the back of his glove stained red. “Just use
that horse to pull my truck out of the ditch and we can take that ride, darlin’.”

“You’re hurt. You need a doctor.” Bethel surveyed the crumpled front end of the truck.
“I don’t know anything about cars, but it doesn’t seem likely your truck can be driven.”

“It don’t start. I already tried. Must’ve busted something in the engine.”

Engine came out
jin-gin
.

“He’s been drinking.” Elijah’s tone sounded carefully neutral. “That’s why he’s in
a ditch.”

“The road was icy,” Shawn protested, the slur growing. “Nothing to do with the holiday
cheer my mom served with the turkey and stuffing. It just helped the food go down.”

“Should we try to get him into the sleigh?” Bethel considered whether Elijah could
carry the other man to the sleigh. Could they drive it into town? It didn’t seem likely.
The roads had all been cleared of snow. “Or you could go to the phone shack and call
for an ambulance.”

“Best make the call.” Elijah held out a hand. “You’ll fall in the snow. Let me help
you. Come on.”

“We can’t leave him here alone.”

“You can’t stay here.” The steely determination in Elijah’s voice matched his grim
countenance. “Don’t just stand there. We need to call for help.”

The upbringing instilled in her by her father made Bethel take one step toward the
sleigh. The part of her that couldn’t bear to see someone hurt pulled her back. “We
can’t leave him by himself. We need to put him in the sleigh and try to drive it to
town.” Even with the soft pleading tone of her voice, she knew she was treading on
thin ice arguing with Elijah. “Or the shack is right down the road. You won’t be gone
more than twenty minutes.”

The emotions warring on his face made Bethel want to look away. What’s more, they
made her want to demand he trust her. Elijah must have seen something of this in her
face, as well. “Come here.”

“Elijah.”

“Now.”

She teetered on her crutches until they were out of earshot of the truck. “Are you
sure you’ll be all right?”

“He’s hurt.”

“I know. You’re right not to want to leave an injured man by the road, but I want
to make sure you…if there’s a problem…”

“There won’t be a problem. Shawn’s a good person at heart.”

“He’s been drinking.”

“I know, but I’ve spent time in a therapy group with him. We talk about many things
in that group. A person’s values become clear.”

His indecision played across his face.

“Go. He’s hurt.”

Elijah turned and stalked across the pasture, returning a few seconds later with the
robe. “Get in.”

“What?’

“Get in the other side. You can’t stand out here in the cold and he’s probably in
shock. You need to cover up. Both of you.”

“Still here,” Shawn crowed. “My legs may be shot, but my hearing’s good.”

“Hush up.” Bethel got into the truck. Her palms damp despite the cold, she slid onto
the passenger seat and took the robe. “Hurry back.”

Elijah nodded, his face grim. “You can count on that.”

The minutes ticked past, each one slower than the last. Shawn’s head lolled against
the seat. Bethel tapped his shoulder with one hesitant finger. “Don’t go to sleep.
Stay awake.”

“You read that in a book?”

“My mudder taught me about first aid. My brothers were always dinging themselves on
the farm machinery or falling off a ladder and such. We like to doctor our own if
we can.”

“You know, I didn’t mean no harm.”

“I know.”

“Your boyfriend thinks I’m a menace.”

“No, he doesn’t.” For the first time, Bethel didn’t deny the boyfriend label. Elijah
was more than a friend. “He’s worried.”

“Then he thinks I’m competition.”

“He doesn’t think anything.”

“He’s right.”

“We’re going to sit here and be quiet.”

He shifted and groaned through chattering teeth.

“What’s wrong?” Bethel swiveled in the seat. Despite the cold, Shawn’s white face
had a patina of sweat. “Where does it hurt?”

“My chest hurts a little.”

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“Shawn.”

“Light a cigarette for me.”

“No.”

“Come on, give a guy a break. I really need a cigarette right now.”

“It’s bad for you and it stinks. I’m not opening the windows. It’s too cold.”

“Then hold my hand.”

“Shawn.”

“You want me to stay awake? Give me a cigarette or hold my hand.”

The cigarette would be more proper. The letter of the law versus the spirit. Bethel
couldn’t see how God would think it right for her to choose something bad for another
person in order to save herself from embarrassment or possible censure. She eyed the
extended hand with its bent fingers. A friend in need holding out a hand for comfort.
Taking a deep breath, she took his into hers. His fingers were icy. “You need more
robe.”

“Body heat would be better.”

She recoiled and dropped his hand so fast it might have been a skillet straight from
an open flame.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not a jerk.” He drew a ragged breath. “I mean it would
keep us warm.”

“The robe is the best I can do.”

“Better than nothing.”

His eyes closed again.

She took his hand. “Stay awake.”

“I’m pretending it’s warm, and we’re at the beach.” His eyelids fluttered and then
closed again. “You’re wearing your sweats because I know you don’t own a bathing suit.”

“I do, but I wouldn’t wear it on the beach.”

“Or with me.”

“Or any man.”

“It’s a strange world you live in, Bethel Graber.”

“A godly world.”

“God made your body.”

“Keep going and I’m getting out of this truck.”

“Sorry. You don’t have to be so prickly.”

“You don’t have to try so hard to rile me.”

“But you make it so easy.”

Sirens in the distance sounded more joyful to Bethel than the singing of birds.

“Bethel!” Elijah’s voice preceded him by only a few steps. In the side mirror she
saw his precipitous flight across the pasture. The worry on his face caused something
hard and cold in her core to dissolve. “I’m coming for you.”

He halted at the door, his gaze fixed on her hands covering Shawn’s. She let go, but
it was too late. Elijah’s concern fled, replaced by a blank stare. His lips a thin,
tight line, he jerked open her door. “Wait in the sleigh.”

“I didn’t want him to go to sleep. His hands were cold so I warmed them up.”

“Get in the sleigh.”

She slipped from the truck and stood in Elijah’s shadow. Before she could try to right
his perception of the situation, flashing blue and red lights pulsated across the
snow. A sheriff’s car screeched to a stop at the top of the embankment. Sheriff McCormack
tumbled out the door before it came to a complete stop, it seemed. He was in full
uniform, making her wonder if he’d spent any time with his family on this Thanksgiving
holiday. Surely there wasn’t so much crime in New Hope as to make it necessary for
him to work.

Toothpick clenched between his teeth, he slipped and slid his way down the embankment.
He halted and extracted the toothpick, which he deposited in his coat pocket. “The
ambulance is right behind me. You folks should stand out of the way.”

Elijah jerked his head toward the sleigh. “Go, Bethel.”

“It’s your son, Sheriff. It’s Shawn.” Bethel couldn’t see how to soften those words.
She wanted him to know before he reached the truck. “I don’t think he’s hurt too bad.”

The fear that flitted across his features lasted only a second, but long enough for
Bethel to see it. Then it faded behind stone. “What was that fool doing out here?
Who was driving?”

He didn’t know his son drove now. “He was.”

“It’s not my son, then.” The sheriff brushed past them and approached the driver’s
side. Confusion written across his craggy face, he leaned into the window. “You idiot,
what do you think you’re doing? Since when do you drive? And why would you do it when
the roads are covered with ice and more snow on the way any minute?”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too.” The strain in Shawn’s voice was apparent despite
his attempt at lightness. Both broke Bethel’s heart. “If I’d known wrecking a truck
would get you to come see me, I’d have done it in front of the house. That way Mom
could see you on the holiday too. I sure could use a cigarette.”