The Cowboy Next Door (10 page)

And she felt like she was eighteen again, and unable to change her life, the lives of her siblings. Powerless.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“My niece is two months old and she's having seizures.”

“Has she had seizures before?”

“No, she has a high fever. I gave her fever reducers, but her temperature is going up.”

“What is her condition now?”

“She's sleeping.”

“I have a unit on the way and first responders should be there in less than five minutes.”

Lacey nodded wordlessly and hung up. She looked at the phone, not sure if the operator had ended the call. She couldn't think about the call, only about her niece.

Rachel slept against her, hot from fever and motionless. But breathing. Lacey heard the sirens of first responders, the community volunteers that always arrived before an ambulance could reach them in the country. She walked to the door, seeing Jay's truck behind the emergency vehicle.

She breathed in deep, her heart letting go of the tightness, just a little. She unlocked the door as the first responders hurried toward the house.

And Jay. Wilma was with him. Lacey's body shook in a sob that she hadn't expected, relief hitting her hard, because she did have people who would come to her aid. She had people.

“What happened?” Jay walked through the door, in his uniform, his jaw set. Wilma took hold of his arm and he breathed in, deep, letting go. And Lacey didn't understand.

The first responder took Rachel from her arms and held her, using a stethoscope to listen to the baby's chest. The other first responder radioed directions to the ambulance. Lacey waited, her body hot and cold, fear holding tight to her heart.

Wilma wrapped a motherly arm around her. “It'll be okay. Now, tell us what happened.”

“She has a fever, and I thought it was a virus.” She shrugged and let Wilma pull her close. “I thought you were in Springfield?”

“We came home last night. We hadn't planned to, but…” Wilma watched the baby in the arms of the first responder. “Maybe God wanted us at home.”

God had known that Lacey would need them.

“She had a convulsion?” The first responder asked. “Her fever is still high. Did you give her something?”

Lacey nodded. “I have it in the kitchen. Do you need it?”

“The amount and time you gave it to her.”

Jay stood to the side, motionless, watching the baby. The words of the first responder brought him back to life. “I'll get the medicine.”

The ambulance pulling up in front of the house brought a new fear, a new moment of reality. Lacey watched as the paramedics rushed up the steps and Wilma motioned them inside. And then it was a blur of activity, of monitoring the baby and whispered conversations.

“We're going to transport her to Springfield,” the paramedic explained. “Do you want to ride with us?”

Lacey nodded. “Please.”

Wilma patted her arm and Lacey looked past her, to Jay. He looked away, and she didn't understand. But Wilma took over. “You go, Lacey. I'll follow in my car so I can bring you home.”

Jay glanced at his watch and frowned. “I have to be on duty in thirty minutes. I'm sorry…”

This is what distance felt like. She knew this moment, and she couldn't think about it, or why it was happening.

“Don't be. I know you have to go to work. I don't expect…” Lacey let go of the words that would have been harsh and she hadn't meant because she was just glad that he was there at that moment. “You don't have to go with us. We'll be fine.”

“Of course we will.” Wilma smiled, a little too brightly, a little too big. “Go, Lacey, and don't forget that I'm praying. It's a fever. Sometimes babies have seizures when their temperature gets too high.”

“Okay.” Lacey breathed in deep, the first deep breath she'd taken in thirty minutes and let it out. She relaxed a little. “I'll see you at the hospital.”

Wilma nodded and Lacey followed the paramedics and her tiny niece, just a baby and already going through so much. And Lacey had wanted to change that. She had wanted to make things better for Rachel. She didn't want her niece to grow up in a world that was always chaotic, always full of doubts and questions.

Like her own childhood. Lacey climbed into the back of the ambulance and sat where they told her to sit. She tried to push aside thoughts of being a little girl, of fear in the darkness of her bedroom, her sister and brother cuddled against her sides.

Her years in Gibson had started a healing process. It began with faith, and forgiving. But healing didn't mean forgetting.

But maybe forgetting wasn't necessary. The memories of her childhood provided a backdrop, a place to begin the changes that would make life better. She knew who she didn't want to be.

And she knew what she didn't want for her niece.

As the ambulance pulled away, she saw Wilma in her car, and Jay standing next to his truck, watching them leave.

J
ay stepped onto the hospital elevator and rode up in silence, people around him talking in quiet tones. One lady laughed at something the man standing next to her said. And Jay couldn't smile, not when he remembered too clearly a trip in this same elevator.

The door slid open. He walked onto the pediatric floor, much the same, but changed. There were murals on the walls now. The bright colors depicted children playing in a park. It was the best the hospital could do for the patients who were here, who couldn't go outside.

They could watch painted children playing in a painted park. They could solve puzzles in a playroom, or watch a clown make animals from balloons.

His stomach tightened into a familiar knot. He stopped at the desk, got a name tag and signed the log-in sheet. The lady behind the desk smiled and buzzed the door for him to enter.

She had given him the room number for Rachel on a slip of paper that he crumpled in his hand without thinking about it. He walked down the hall, breathing in the antiseptic air of the hospital. Oxygen that smelled like medicine. It was cold and clean.

The door to the room was open. He peeked in. Lacey was sitting in a chair, her eyes closed. His mom sat next to the bed where Rachel slept, hooked to IVs. She put a finger to her lips to silence him.

He stepped softly, hoping he wouldn't wake Lacey. As he got closer to the metal crib, he realized that Rachel was awake. Her bright blue eyes were open and clear, not glazed as they had been that morning. She even smiled a little.

“She's much better.” Wilma patted the seat next to hers. “But Lacey is worn out. She was up a lot last night, checking Rachel and giving her medicine.”

He nodded, but he didn't know what to say. The last few days hadn't been easy for Lacey. He took that back. Since Corry arrived in town, Lacey's life had been turned upside down.

“She's strong,” he told his mom. “She'll be fine.”

“Even strong people need help.” Wilma said it with soft but firm tones that he couldn't argue with.

“I know.” He touched his mom's arm. “Why don't you go home? I'll be here for a while.”

“Are you sure you don't mind? The doctor said that if Rachel's fever stayed down, he'd let her go home this evening.”

“I don't mind.” He glanced again at the sleeping Lacey, amazed by the softness of her features when she slept. “Does Bailey know?”

“She came up earlier. So did Pastor Dan and Lillian.”

“That's good.”

She leaned and kissed his cheek. “I'll see you at home.”

He watched her go and then he sat back in the seat, his legs stretched out in front of him, but not relaxed.

Rachel cooed. He reached through the bars of the crib and rubbed her arm softly, careful of the IV. “Little baby, life isn't always easy.”

She didn't realize that she'd already found out that life wasn't
easy. In her short little life, she'd experienced more than some adults. He prayed that as she got older, it would get easier and she wouldn't have to suffer. If life was fair, she would remain in Lacey's custody where she would be loved and kept safe.

He didn't know Lacey very well, but he knew that she would take care of this little girl. He glanced her way, and she was still sleeping, her mouth open just a little. Street-smart and tough. The description didn't fit her today.

He leaned back in the seat and thought about a girl who hadn't been tough. She'd been sweet and full of faith, with a smile that lit up his day. And she hadn't been able to win her fight.

The memories of losing her were still a sharp ache. Sometimes it felt as though everyone had forgotten but him and her parents, but they'd left years ago.

Jamie hadn't had a chance to become a part of Gibson. She came and left the summer of his twentieth birthday. His mother had brought her to the white farmhouse after his grandparents moved to town. And for a few short months, she'd been a farm girl. The dream of her life.

Lacey moved in the chair, but didn't wake up. She was spending a summer in the country, too. Because she wanted to live on a farm. And because his mother had the habit of bringing home strays.

Lacey and Jamie were nothing alike.

 

Lacey woke up and the sun was an orange ball on the western horizon. She heard a noise and turned. Wilma was gone. Jay had taken her place in the chair next to the bed. He was sleeping, too.

She stood, stretched and walked to the bed where her niece had been since that morning. Rachel slept, her cheeks pale but not flushed pink with fever. It was a virus, the doctor said, that had gotten out of control. She would be fine, but from this point on, Lacey would have to monitor when Rachel had a fever.

The baby would probably outgrow the seizures, brought on by the high temperature. Lacey lifted her from the bed, careful with the IV.

“Sweet girl,” Lacey whispered, and kissed Rachel's cheek. “I'm going to take care of you. You'll never have to wonder what is happening in the other room. You'll never be hungry.”

Telling secrets to a baby. Lacey closed her eyes and held her niece close.

The door opened. A nurse, soft shoes, quiet on the floor and a smile that put people at ease. She bit down on her bottom lip when she saw Jay sleeping.

“I came to give you good news.” The nurse had a handful of papers that she placed on the table. “You get to take this little girl home. Her temperature has been down all day, she's hydrated, and there's no sign of seizures.”

Lacey swallowed objections. How could she tell this nurse that she was afraid to take the baby home? What if she couldn't handle this alone?

Jay moved in his chair, his brown eyes a little sleepy and his hair messy. He ran his hand over his head, smoothing the distracting strands. Lacey met his gaze and he smiled, like she could do it, and she didn't need to be afraid.

She didn't have to handle this alone.

“I don't have my car or the car seat.” She didn't look at Jay this time.

“We can give you an infant seat that we give to newborns,” the nurse assured her.

“And I can give you a ride home,” Jay offered. He stood and stretched, his shirt pulling tight across his chest, and then he shoved his hands into his pockets and waited.

Lacey nodded. “I think we'd rest better at home.”

“Of course you would.” The nurse removed the IV from Rachel's arm and placed an adhesive strip on the tiny spot.
Rachel didn't cry, but her mouth twisted down and tears welled up in her blue eyes.

Lacey picked her up again and the nurse smiled. “Let me go over the release papers with you.” The nurse moved the table in front of Lacey. “And then I'll get the infant seat.”

She read the instructions, the doctor's diagnosis and treatment and then she handed Lacey a pen. Lacey held the pen over the area for parent or guardian and the words brought it all home, the significance of what had happened in her life.

She was no longer responsible only for herself. The tiny little person in her arms depended on her, for wise choices, for safety, for nurturing.

And Corry was in jail. Her hand shook as she lifted the pen and signed.

“She'll be okay.” The nurse meant the words to encourage, and Lacey nodded. “I'll be right back.”

Jay had started packing the diaper bag, a guy in faded jeans and a T-shirt, a man used to being in control and taking care of situations. He didn't look at her.

When he looked up, he smiled. “You're going to be able to do this, Lacey. You're not alone.”

She nodded, but couldn't respond. How had he known that she felt alone?

“Do you need anything from the store before we head back to Gibson?” He zipped the diaper bag.

“I'm good.”

The door opened again. The nurse walked in, holding up the infant seat. “Found one. And I have some medication for you, with the instructions on the label. She'll need this when you get home.”

“Thank you.” She had been saying that a lot lately. She buckled her niece in the seat and Jay had the diaper bag. Time to go. She paused, not really wanting to leave the secure envi
ronment of the hospital, where people who knew what they were doing were on hand.

“Let's go.” Jay reached for the infant seat. “I'll carry her.”

“Okay.” Lacey said good-bye to the nurse, and followed Jay from the room. She had the diaper bag. He had Rachel in the infant seat.

When they got to the elevator he turned to face her.

“Lacey, it really is okay.”

“What if I can't do this?” She asked, not able to look at him, instead studying the pattern in the tile floor. “It was so easy telling my sister what she needed to do. It was easy to help. Now, it's all on me.”

She looked up, smiling, because he looked so serious, taking in her words, her rambling fears. Did he ever get riled up, or frightened? Did he ever lose it?

Probably not. He made black-and-white decisions, dealt with facts, and he probably never took chances. He had it all together. Lacey was still not there, and she probably never would be.

For a while she had embraced herself. She was who she was and she was okay. God had done something in her life, was still doing something. But being around him, she felt like her flaws were magnified.

“Come on, Lacey, stop looking like you're about to run out on me.” Jay held the door of the open elevator. “Let's go.”

“I'm not about to run.” She stepped on the elevator ahead of him.

“I didn't think you were. That was just a little well-planned prodding. I figured if I got your hackles up, you'd kick back into gear.”

“How sweet of you to think of me.”

The sun had set and the sky was a deep lavender with a touch of pink on the western horizon. The sounds were urban and
familiar. The hum of city traffic, a siren in the distance and across the parking lot, someone shouted to get the attention of a friend. Lacey breathed in the smell of exhaust and from somewhere, the sweet perfume of a mimosa tree.

Jay held the infant seat in one hand and reached for Lacey's elbow. She followed his lead and he guided her across the parking lot to his truck.

“I'm keeping you from work, or from your horses.” She waited for him to unlock the door and set the baby inside his truck.

“You're not keeping me from anything.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He set the baby on the seat between them and pulled the seatbelt through to fasten it. When he turned around, he wasn't smiling.

“My mom is paying me.”

Lacey opened her mouth, not sure what to say. He laughed. She frowned and stepped away from him. “That was mean.”

“How do you think I feel when you question my motives?”

“I'm not trying to insult you, but people tend to have ulterior motives.” The words slipped out, more truth than she had planned.

Jay sighed. “Yes, Lacey, people do have motives. I can't deny that you're right. People use others, and they hurt them. But sometimes a guy is being nice, with no ulterior motives. End of story.”

A soft spot in her heart latched onto his words, wanting to believe that he really was just a nice guy, and that he might be a friend. She told herself that he'd proven that fact by being there, by helping.

And then that other part of her, the part that had been around a little more, told her that everyone had ulterior motives. He could hurt her. As she doled out more and more trust, he could take that and use it to his own advantage.

She had trusted before. Not just Lance, but other people along the way who had let her down. He wanted her to say she trusted him, she saw it in his eyes, the way he looked at her, waiting. She squeezed the bridge of her nose and tried to think beyond tears, beyond what the moment felt like.

“Lacey, don't make this so difficult.” He held the door to the truck and motioned her inside. “You either trust me, or you don't.”

“I'm trying.” She shrugged. “Jay, you feel like a friend. I hope that's good enough for now.”

“That's good enough for now.”

 

Jay didn't know why he had pushed Lacey, or what he wanted her to say to his questions. He started his truck and pulled out of the hospital parking lot, guilt prodding him to apologize. He had pushed her to admit she didn't trust him.

He shouldn't have done that to her. And then he shouldn't have felt so let down when she said he felt like a friend. His ego felt smacked down, like a bad dog chewing shoes. Pete must feel like this on a regular basis.

It wasn't as if Pete really liked shoes. He didn't go looking for shoes. He found them lying around the house and he chewed on them. Jay didn't really like Lacey Gould. Maybe, like she said, she could be a friend.

But he definitely didn't want to step foot into another relationship. He had learned from his failed attempt with Cindy that it wasn't worth it. He had tried to turn a good dating relationship into love, into a marriage.