Society Rules (62 page)

“
Crowded
House
? You are
such
a corndog!” Indie whispered, but clearly pleased and a little dizzy with love.

“It’s a great line, and also just a statement of fact.” Jackson pushed up on his elbows to look her squarely in her eyes. “It is my vow, to you!” Then he smiled.

“It’s four-thirty, my love . . . care for a quick shower? I know you want to be somewhere at five!”

Chapter 41

Will glanced at his watch as he worked his way down I-89. It was four forty-five. Indie had sworn to him that the house packing would be done by this evening, but judging by the amount left to do this morning, and knowing her tendency to shun all help, he seriously doubted it.

He had watched with conflicted amusement as Jackson had tried to persuade her by any and all means at his disposal, to allow him to hire movers for the job, but to no avail.

Jackson had been all kinds of put out, but he could have told him to save his breath.

When Indie set her mind on something, just step out of the way. She would never be swayed. Oh well, maybe by this evening when she realized the amount of work left to do, she would break down.

Will’s eyes blinked.

From nowhere, an overwhelming exhaustion sledge hammered him with such force, he wasn’t even sure that he would make it to a rest area.

Gasping, and taking huge gulps of air from the window he hastily let down, Will struggled to hold his eyes open as he finally spotted the small blue sign pointing toward exactly where he needed to be.

What
is
happening
to
me?
he wondered, as he pulled into the circular curve off the highway. Could a person suddenly develop a severe case of narcolepsy? He had never been hit with fatigue like this, just out of the blue.

Will just managed to throw the truck in park, and snatch up the small lever next to the seat and slam backwards.

He was out before the seat came to a stop; unconscious and instantly in the middle of a dream.

He felt himself lifted . . . pulled upwards as he wondered without any real concern, if it was going to hurt when he smacked into the roof of his truck. In his dream, he closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact, which never came.

When Will opened his eyes again, he was facing downward, watching the road and all of the traffic move further and further away.

He felt a current of air roll him lazily onto his back, and he felt the distinct sensation of being held so gently, so tenderly in the palm of someone’s hand, like a premature infant in an Anne Geddes print.

So utterly at peace.

Safe and calm, as he was rocked gently from side to side.

A voice that was the distillation of love and kindness wrapped itself around him, cradling him even more tightly in its embrace.

Redeemer,
it whispered softly.

The
gifts
you
receive
will
keep
your
footing
sure,
your
stance
on
equal
terms
with
your
worthy
partner
and
adversary.
You
will
never
betray
one
another,
and
you
will
fight
for
the
same
cause,
as
you
grapple
with
your
own
relationship.

You
will
love
as
brothers
love,
and
fight
as
brothers
will
fight,
but
always
united
as
one
.” The voice circled Will like a hand caressing his face.

You
will
awaken
with
a
small
token
of
my
gratitude
for
the
salvation
of
my
creations;
the
gifts
aforementioned
will
soon
make
themselves
known.
Use
them
well
. The sound of the wind rose.

Sleep
now,
my
Redeemer
 . . . .

The voice dwindled until only the sound of the wind remained, soft and soothing on Will’s skin.

It seemed to Will that he remained suspended in the palm of the unseen hand for hours, comforted and cleansed, before feeling a gradual downward float drift him back toward his truck. He closed his eyes once more as the roof of the truck approached, but this time, he knew he would not feel an impact.

He was laid gently back in the seat of the truck with all of the care of a mother for her child. Will’s eyes opened and he looked around, his mind hazy.

The time on his watch read five-fifteen.

There was a small piece of paper on his dashboard, obviously from a memo pad. It was covered with words, written by a very firm hand.

“You had better be out taking a walk, buddy. You call me as soon as you get back to your truck, so that I can swing by your house and kick your ass!”

“P.S. I hope you’re okay.”

It was signed, “Nick.”

*     *     *

Nick was headed back to the station to wrap up the humdrum stack of paperwork required simply so that he could go home.

He was already off duty, and listening to music in his patrol car when he experienced a sickening feeling of deja vous.

He spotted Will’s truck parked in the rest area. It was one without facilities, so there wasn’t much else around, just a few picnic tables and benches. Frowning, Nick pulled in through the exit side and came to a stop beside Will’s truck.

As he feared, it was empty.
What
the
hell
 . . . ?

Nick parked the patrol car, and quickly looked inside the truck to make sure Will wasn’t curled up in the floorboards or anything. He noticed then, that the truck was unlocked.

Nick ripped the door open and tried to ascertain whether there were signs of any foul play.

No, no signs of a struggle. No blood (thank God) and everything else seemed to be in order.

Will’s cell phone was resting in the passenger seat.

Maybe he had to take a leak. Nick looked around.

The area was heavily wooded, but had hiking trails everywhere. He waited for about ten minutes, and then uneasily decided that maybe Will had simply wanted to take a walk. Have some alone time.

God knows, the guy needed it. He most definitely had enjoyed a very difficult couple of weeks.

Nick looked at his watch and fumed. He knew he had to report in, but was uncertain what to do.

If Will was simply taking a walk, the last thing he needed was to think that he had to worry about Nick freaking out about him all the time now. The man would not want a cop with nanny-syndrome hanging around, would he?

Heaving a giant sigh worthy of a man of Nick’s stature, be pulled out his little notebook, and his best ticket-writing pen, and tried not to rip the paper as he wrote. He snatched it out of the little spiral binder, and slapped in onto the dashboard of Will’s truck.

Indulging himself with one more moment of hesitation, Nick reluctantly climbed back into the cruiser, and with a last look around, pulled back onto the highway.

*     *     *

Will sat in the cab of his truck just long enough to convince himself that he was still alive, truly awake, and relatively sane.

This took just under half an hour.

He held his hands up in front of his face, turning them first front to back, and then he opened and closed them several times. Next he checked the legs. Yep, both were working.

His mind seemed okay, as he ran through a few sets of multiplication tables, and some states and their capitals for good measure.

He finally deemed himself fully awake and one hundred percent sure that what had just happened to him was not a dream. Something had really happened.

Something amazing and unreal.

Nick had apparently driven by and seen Will’s truck parked here with—Will shuddered—no one inside; hence the note.

Redeemer
. The word seemed to hiss through the interior of the truck. It had the effect of jogging several memories at once.

They
will
come
through
you
.

“Me?” Will whispered. It sounded a little scary, but suddenly, in a blinding flash of understanding, Will got it.

Everything clicked nicely in his head with a satisfying snap. He still wasn’t sure just exactly what he was supposed to
do
, but he figured this would make itself known to him in due time.

He just hoped he didn’t disappoint anyone.

With hands now steady, Will reached forward, started his truck and rejoined the traffic on the highway. He put his cell phone’s blue tooth capabilities to good use, and dialed Nick’s number.

Nick answered on the first ring.

“Will, you sorry sonofabitch, I am going to kill you.”

Will smiled. One thing about Nick . . . you never had to wonder where you stood with the guy.

“I love you too, ‘bro! Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

“Besides kicking your ass? Nothin’ much.”

“Then why don’t you swing by the house? This is my last night I’ll be hanging out there, and we should have a beer or two. Indie is supposed to be wrapping up the packing, but I’ll believe that when I see it. It’s a mess. But I want to hang with you before I take off.”

“Yeah I’ll come, as long as you don’t try to make me help load a truck or anything. But, uh . . . .”

“What? What’s the problem?” Will demanded. There was a moment of embarrassed silence, and then Nick spoke in a rush. “Can I bring someone with?”

“Like who? One of your sisters?”

“No, jackass. A, um . . . yeah . . . a girl. Her name’s Rebecca.”

Oh. My. God.

Nick had a date? Will had to shake the sound of disbelief from his throat.

“Well, hell yes, bring her! Who is she?”

“She’s a triage nurse at the hospital. I saw her the night we brought you in to the ER. I somehow got up the nerve to talk to her. She’s pretty quiet, though. I think she’s shy, which gets me every time. Anyhow, one of her girlfriends dropped a dime on her; told me she thought I was . . . uh . . . .”

Nick stopped talking.

“She thought you were what? Tall? Gay? Into S and M?”

Nick exercised his right to remain silent. Will drew in a deep breath, and burst out laughing.

“Aw Nick . . . she thought you were
CUTE
didn’t she?
Oh
,
man!”

“Yeah well, maybe I ain’t so bad, huh? Anyway, she may say no.”

“You haven’t asked her, yet?”

“Naw, still workin’ up the courage.”

“Alright, Nick. I’m hanging up this phone so you can call her now. And I’ll see you both at my place, right?” Will could swear he could hear Nick blushing through the phone. “Yeah, okay. Wish me luck.”

“Luck! Later, man.”

Will hung up, and realized he had a big dopey grin on his face. Nick on a date. What a concept. Will had almost decided the guy had taken a vow of celibacy or something. He just never seemed interested.

His gut told him that Nick had been on the receiving end of a suitcase full of heartache, but he didn’t know any details. He was really happy for the man, and hoped the lady was worthy.