Tomorrow's Sun (17 page)

She nodded. “Is this … am I … ?”

“My first kiss?”

Turning from the laughter in his eyes, she stared down at the canoe he’d fashioned with his own hands. “Yes.” Was it wrong to ask a man such a question? Didn’t she need to know if she would someday be his wife? The heat she’d felt a moment ago deserted and she shivered.

Liam pulled her shawl onto her shoulders. “You can’t catch a chill. I won’t stand for that.” The twinkle still danced in his eyes, a reflection of moonlight and amusement. “I’ll be on my way as soon as you promise you’ll pray about going to Boston.”

“Then you and I shall both turn to icicles. You didn’t answer my question and yet you expect me to promise I will pray about something I already know is not within the will of God? I think not.”

He laughed again. “Are you sure you’re not Irish?”

“Bite your tongue!”

His expression darkened as if a cloud blotted the moonlight.

“You know I’m not serious.”

“I know.” But the teasing had left his voice.

“Be proud of your heritage, Liam.”

His hands dropped then folded across his chest. “There’s not a lot to be proud of. Da is exactly what they say all Irishmen are.”

“But
you
are not.”

“By the grace of God.”

“Of course, by the grace of God. But don’t berate yourself because you are what you are due to the intervention of Almighty God.” She stamped her foot in the dirt and the sparkle returned to his eyes.

“You are good for me, Hannah.”

“And you for me.”

He pulled her close. “I wish …”

She pressed her face into the coat that smelled of smoke from the forge, worn leather, and a man who worked hard for what he believed. “I do, too.”

T
he hot shower massaged her neck. Emily turned and lifted her face into the spray then angled away to protect the cut. Filling her cupped hand with shampoo, she inhaled the soap smell. As she scrubbed her hair, exhaustion overpowered her. She leaned against the wall until the last of the suds swirled down the drain then shut off the water.

A six-inch-long bruise decorated her thigh, the puffy oval now a darker purple than when she’d stepped in. Pain hammered in time with her pulse. Hair in a towel, she pulled a plaid flannel robe off the hook on the door and walked into the upstairs hall. She gripped the railing of the folding stairs leading to her attic. She might as well have been standing, as she once had, at the base of Mount Fuji.

When she reached her bed, she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten there. In a tired fog, she took three pills—one for pain, two for sleep—struggled into pajamas, and lay down on her mattress.

“You let her go home?”

Jake shrugged at his mother. “I followed her. What was I supposed to do, pick her up and throw her over my shoulder?”

Straightening Adam’s hospital blanket, his mother nodded. “It sounds like that’s exactly what you should have done.”

Adam laughed, clouding his oxygen mask. With his IV hand, he lifted the mask. “She’s fierce. You should have heard her yelling at me.”

“Somebody had to!” Jake smacked the blanket tented over Adam’s feet. “What were you thinking?”

“That I had to find Pansy before Lexi heard she was gone because she’d get so upset she’d have another attack. Instead, we’re both in the hospital and Pansy’s missing. What a screw-up.”

Jake twisted his mouth to one side and nodded. “Got that right. But you screwed up for a noble cause.”

“You were trying to do the right thing.” Blaze Braden kissed her grandson’s cheek then turned to her son. “You’d better go check on that girl. She saved your nephew’s life.”

“Nuh-uh.” Adam’s protest garbled through the mask. “I saved
her.”

“She’ll call if she needs anything.” Emily had made it abundantly clear she could manage on her own.

Adam raised his mask. “Her phone’s wrecked. It got wet.”

Great
. He held his mother’s pointed gaze. “Fine. I’ll go check on her. I’m going to check on Lexi first.”

“They’re just waiting on discharge papers.”

“I know. I just want to—”

“Stall.”

“Yeah. Stall.”

Stupid idea. Jake glared at the door handle. It was nine o’clock at night. Emily was exhausted. She’d be in bed in the attic. If he made her hobble down two flights of stairs to tell him she was all right, it would probably be accompanied by a slap.

He had a key. He fingered its outline in his back pocket. He should have brought someone with him. Who? His mother was tied up. The guys on his crew were home with their families. Or at the bar. Like calling them would have been an option anyway.
Hey, Topher, put that beer down and come with me while I break into this girl’s house and go up to her bedroom
. With a massive inhale, he stuck the key in the lock and turned it.

He cracked the door open. “Emily?”

He sent his voice ahead of him through a two-inch slit. She could be in the downstairs bathroom. She could be … He shut his eyes. “Emily? It’s me. Just checking up on you.”

If she screamed at him and told him to get out, he’d obey before the next word left her mouth. He didn’t want to be there any more than she wanted him. But no sound came from above.

With intentionally heavy steps that echoed through the empty house, he climbed to the second floor and repeated his plea for a response. Any answer would do.

He walked up the steps to the attic, pausing after every step, calling her name again. Four steps up, fear set in. No one slept that soundly. He ran up the last few steps and poked his head through the opening.

Emily lay on a mattress on the floor on the west end of the attic. Thankfully, fully clothed. The right leg of her pajamas, pushed above her knee, exposed an ugly, dark purple bruise. He didn’t need to step too close to hear strong, steady breathing. She was alive. Was she conscious? “Emily?”

Just talk to me and I’ll leave. Wake up, throw a pillow in my face, and I’m out of here
. He kneeled beside her, sending a brown plastic bottle skittering across the floor. Bending sideways, he caught it. Percocet. A second bottle lay on its side, half-covered by a blanket. He’d picked up enough prescriptions for his mother to be familiar with both drugs—one for pain, one for sleep. If she’d taken both, she’d be a zombie.

One look at your pupils and I’ll say good-bye
. He lifted a limp hand. Smooth skin, tapered fingers. An artistic hand. It fit snugly in his. Rubbing the back with his thumb, he said her name again.

“Hmm?” Eyelids twitched. He let go of her hand. She rolled on her side, hugging her pillow, facing him.

So she wasn’t brain-dead. Jake crossed his legs and picked up her hand again. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Her lips barely moved.

“Does your leg hurt?”

“Mm-hm.”

“How ‘bout your head?”

Her forehead crinkled. Very cute. “No.” The creases deepened. One eye popped open then the other. Equal and reactive. “Is Adam okay?”

“He’s fine. He’ll be in overnight for observation. Just like you should be.”

“And Lexi?”

“On her way home.”

“Good.” Eyes fluttering shut, she shook her head. Her hair spilled across her face. Jake brushed it away, skimming her warm cheek. “Hate hospitals,” she mumbled.

“I imagine you do. How long were you in?”

“Three weeks … first. Long time second.”

“Did you need surgery after your accident?”

Her pillow rustled as she nodded. “Lots.” She was silent for several seconds. “MRSA.”

“That’s an infection, right?” The name had something to do with antibiotic resistance. That’s all he knew about it.

“Mm-hm. Evil. God punishes.”

Leaning closer, he enclosed her hand in both of his. “What do you mean?”

“I deserved it.”

“You deserved an infection?”

“If I hadn’t …” Eyes squinched shut. Her breathing grew slow and deep again.

Jake lifted her hand. And kissed it.

He reached the first floor before the sensation left his lips. Common sense returned about the same time. She didn’t have a phone. With that leg, it was doubtful she could even climb down to use the bathroom. Pulling out his phone, he pushed “2” and waited for his mother’s voice.

“Is she okay, honey?”

“She’s conscious. It looks like she took a pain pill and a sleeping pill—”

“Bring her here.”

Scuffing his heel against the floor, he smiled. “You’re sure?”

“That’s what you called about, isn’t it?”

Unnerving. “Yes.”

“Then do what you should have done in the first place and sling her over your shoulder and bring her here. Unless you think she should see a doctor first.”

“
I
think she should, but the ER wouldn’t be a safe place if I took her against her will.”

“A girl with spunk, huh?”

He cringed. One word, spoken in casual conversation, and it would follow him forever. “Mo
ther.”

“Ja
cob
. Bring her here. Lexi and I can go back for her things tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Thank
you
.” A smile tinged her voice.

He closed his phone and his eyes. This was going to be bad. His mother, who claimed her job wouldn’t be complete until she found him a wife, was about to meet a girl with spunk.

“That’s ridiculous.” Emily propped up on pillows and yawned. “I feel great and I have everything I need.”

“Except a phone.”

She laughed at him. “I’ll run across the street if I need to call someone.”

“You’ll what?” He laughed right back. “No offense, but you weren’t exactly running before your leg turned into a purple eggplant.”