Maxine (4 page)

He waited a few minutes before saying, “Look, Max, I need to go down and look for your purse. We need the phone to call for help. I know I said I wouldn’t leave you, but it’s just for a few minutes, okay?”

“Yes, okay, but be careful. If it’s too dangerous, leave it there.”

She
was worried about
him
? “Yeah, I’ll be careful. Give me twenty, thirty minutes before you panic.”

As he walked down toward Mrs. Martin’s cabin, a voice from the top of the hill called, “Hey, Nicky. You okay?”

Nick looked up at Tony. “Yeah. Anybody hurt? Is the house all right?”

Tony galloped down the stairs. “Cracks here and there, two broken windows, broken dishes, Ma’s favorite vase, that kinda stuff, but nothing major. Ma’s fussing over the dog. Spooked the poor mutt. She sent me down to check on you.”

“I’m glad you’re here. You can help me with something.” The two men walked down the beach, and Nick pointed to the collapsed cabin on the side of the hill. “I pulled a woman out of that mess after the earthquake. She’s hurt pretty bad, needs a doctor, but the phone is out and she can’t walk up to the road.”

“The road is out, Nick. Both directions. You can’t get anywhere from here without walking or taking a boat.”

The paramedics would have to come for Max by boat, and they could call her family from the hospital. She must have someone besides her deadbeat husband, someone who could take care of her better than he could.

The men walked up the path to Mrs. Martin’s cabin and hiked through the bushes around the right side, to the stairs and the entry deck off the kitchen.

Nick stood on the landing and peered through the broken kitchen window. The kitchen was damaged, with cabinets hanging open and broken stuff all over the floor, but the roof was still intact and the floor hadn’t caved in.

The kitchen door had popped loose, so he pried it open far enough to squeeze through. The ceiling had come down in the front, over the living room, but he could stand almost straight in the kitchen. Still, that didn’t mean it was safe to walk into the room. Nothing in this place was safe.

Tony stepped around Nick, and Nick grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “What in the hell are you doing? Slow down. I don’t want to have to pull you out, too.”

Nick cautiously eased himself into the room. The floor sagged and creaked, but it held. A black purse with a long strap was half-buried on the other side of the room. A step closer and the sub flooring snapped under his foot. He quickly stepped back to the door. “The support under the floor is gone.” That purse was only three or four steps away, but it might as well be in Alaska.

Tony snagged a broom from the floor near the door and handed it to Nick. “Try this.”

“Okay. Hang onto me.”

Tony held onto the back of Nick’s belt while Nick leaned into the room. Using the broom handle, he snagged the strap of her purse. It took three tries, but he finally pulled it close enough to grab.

“You want me to get clothes or something?” asked Tony.

“Hell no. There’s nothing here worth dying for.”

Tony grinned. “Maybe you’ll get to see her naked.”

Nick fished in her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I already saw her naked, or almost naked.”

“No shit.” Tony whistled. “You work fast,” he said with a touch of awe.

“And you have a one-track mind.” You’d think Tony had never been with a woman, when he’d been with too many to count, mostly leggy blondes. If he wasn’t with one woman, he was chasing after another.

Nick flipped the phone open and dialed 911, half expecting it not to work. Relief washed over him when an operator answered. He described Max’s injuries and their location. “The roads are damaged out here, but I live on the water. The neighbors have a dock, so a seaplane or boat can get in, but there’s no place for a helicopter to land.” Nick walked toward home, listening while the 911 operator made arrangements for someone to come for Max.

The operator asked, “Is this injury life threatening?”

“Well, no, but—”

“We’ll get someone out there as soon as we can, but it might not be today.”

“Yeah, okay, if that’s the best you can do.” Nick closed the phone. “I hope she can wait another day. She’s really hurting.”

“I got some pain pills from the dentist,” said Tony. “I’ll bring them in the morning.”

“Yeah, that’s good. See if Aunt Sophia can find her something clean to wear. She’s about Maria’s size. Something soft and stretchy, easy to get on.”

“Okay, see you in the morning.” Tony took the steps two at a time and jogged down the road toward home, about two miles away.

Nick put the cell phone back in the woman’s purse and zipped it closed. He’d saved her life today, and he felt good about that. Now he had to keep her alive until he could get her medical help.

Her family could take it from there.

<>

Cara felt hot one minute and cold the next, a sign of fever. Her leg must be infected. Nick had done his best, but she needed pain medication and antibiotics. Maybe no one would recognize her with her hair dyed black and chopped off, and cuts and scratches all over her face and hands. Nick didn’t know who she was, so maybe no one else would.

The earthquake hadn’t touched Nick’s house. Unlike the Martin cabin, which had been perched on the side of the hill, Nick’s cabin sat just a few steps up from the beach. The living room had big windows facing the water, and none of them had cracked. His cabin wasn’t much bigger than the one Cara had rented, but it was newer and better designed, solid and sturdy.
Safe.

The cabin shook as Nick came through the door, another aftershock. Cara forced herself to breathe. Earthquakes had never been more to her than an inconvenience, definitely not a threat to her health and safety. Until today. “I wish it would stop.”

“Yeah, I know, but the worst is over. Besides, I built this place myself. It won’t fall down.”

“I like the way you built the kitchen open like this.” The open counter overlooked the living area and you could see the water from the kitchen.

He filled the kettle and put it back on the woodstove as he talked. “I wanted to build a bigger house, but after my divorce I didn’t have much left.”

“Do you have kids?”

His eyes filled with sadness and he looked away. “No kids.” He stood in the window, hands in his back pockets, staring out at the water. She heard the sorrow in his voice and wondered if he’d lost a child.

“Nick, I need to use the bathroom, but I can’t get up.”

Nick rushed to her side and leaned down, his face so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. He put his hands on her waist and gently pulled her out of the chair. She tried not to make a sound, but a little moan slipped out.

“Okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” She wasn’t okay, not even close. If Lance found her, she’d never be okay again. She’d die in a stinking hole on St. Rupert’s Island.

“I don’t suppose you have a spare toothbrush.”

“Sure.” Nick found a new toothbrush, put a candle on the bathroom sink, and brought her a glass of water, “For your teeth. Don’t flush. I’ll do it before bed.”

<>

Two hours later, Cara sat at the kitchen counter while Nick made her something to eat. He handed her more pain pills and offered his bed for the night. It was a generous offer, but she couldn’t take his bed. She didn’t think she could lie down anyway. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll sleep in the chair tonight.”

“Sure, if you’re more comfortable there. If you need to get up, call me. I sleep hard, so keep hollering.”

His relaxed, friendly manner made her feel as if they’d been friends for years. She wondered why this warm, considerate guy lived alone. He said he was divorced. Why would a woman walk away from a man like Nick?

On the verge of tears, Cara breathed deeply to try to gain control over the pain. “Nick, would you check my leg, please? It feels like the bandage came loose.”

Nick arranged the pillows and she settled in the recliner again. He put the leg rest up and carefully pushed the sweatpants up to check her leg. “Aw shit! It’s swelling. I should have watched it closer.”

He put antibiotic ointment and a clean bandage on the gash and pulled the tape tight. “It’s probably too late to stitch it up now. Damn! You’re gonna have a big scar.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does.” He eased the back of the chair down a little. “Comfortable?”

“I’m okay.” If only she were. Aside from a spill from a horse when she was ten, she’d never had any serious injuries. Her mother was still alive then, and so was her grandfather. The money that bought her the best of care back then had gotten her into this mess. If not for Lance’s scheming with his ‘honey,’ she wouldn’t have had to hide out in that run-down cabin.

Cara closed her eyes and listened to Nick moving around the room, checking the woodstove and blowing out candles. She was almost asleep when she felt him pull the blanket up and tuck it gently around her.

“Goodnight, Max,” he whispered.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had tucked her in. Her mother had spent the last thirteen years of her life in a sanitarium, and Cara’s guardians weren’t nurturing people. The servants were kind to her, but her guardians wouldn’t let them get close.

Nobody had been close the past few years except Lance.

And Nick.

Chapter Three

S
ometime in the night, Nick heard Max calling to him. “Nick, wake up. I’m going to be sick.”

He jumped off the couch, grabbed the wastebasket from the kitchen, and shoved it under her face just in time. She was warm when she went to sleep, but now she was burning up. He helped her to the bathroom and brought her a glass of water so she could brush her teeth. Her hands shook so hard she could barely hold the toothbrush.

When she finished in the bathroom, she sat in the recliner, and he wrapped his coat and another blanket around her to ease her teeth-chattering chill.

“I’m sorry I woke you, Nick.”

“I’m glad you did. I hate cleaning up puke.” He’d done enough of that when he lived with his alcoholic mother.

He added wood to the fire and put the kettle on for tea. It might help settle her stomach. As soon as he got her settled, he’d call 911 again and get someone out here.

By sunrise, she had stopped shivering and fallen into a restless sleep. Nick walked outside with Max’s cell phone, where he could get better reception.

“Hey, I called yesterday. I know we’re on the list for today, but the situation has changed. The injured woman has a raging fever and the gash on her leg is infected. Her shoulder could be broken, too. It looks bad, and she’s in a lot of pain.”

“I’ll flag it for immediately response,” said the 911 operator. “Under normal circumstances, someone would have come right out.”

“Yeah, I know.” There were so many people hurt there was no way to take care of them all at the same time. But if Max didn’t get that leg treated, she could lose it.

<>

The boat came an hour later and the paramedics prepared Max to go to the hospital.

“Come with me, Nick. Please.” She begged him with her eyes.

“Are you her husband?” asked one of the paramedics.

Without hesitation, Max said, “Yes, he’s my husband.”

Nick had planned to send her alone and have her family come and get her, but she looked so scared, he played along. He grabbed a coat and her purse, left a note for Tony on the kitchen counter, and pulled the door closed.

Although they had the heater turned up in the boat cabin, Max shivered uncontrollably. Nick sat beside her, rubbing her hands, pulling the blankets around her, trying to keep her warm. He would have wrapped his arms around her, but he was afraid of hurting her shoulder.

Someone asked her name and she said, “Max.”

“Maxine Donatelli,” said Nick. He winked and she smiled, a shaky smile, but definitely a smile. “My wife,” he said more to her than to the paramedics.

An ambulance met the boat at the dock in Tacoma and took them to the emergency room at Tacoma General Hospital. Nick paced in the waiting room while they x-rayed her shoulder, and then he found a quiet corner and sat down to wait, her purse by his side. He pulled out her wallet, which was stuffed full of bills. Hundred dollar bills.

Good Lord, how much money does she have in here?

He found a thick bank envelope with another wad of hundreds and a cashier’s check for ninety-eight thousand, six hundred and fifty-three dollars and sixty-two cents.

Who in the hell is this woman?

She didn’t have black hair in the picture on her California driver’s license. And he’d seen this woman’s picture before, in the check-out line at the grocery store, on the covers of tabloid magazines. No wonder she offered to pay him. His wounded houseguest was Cara Andrews, one of the richest women in the world.