Rainshadow Road

Twelve

Consciousness came back to Lucy in a puzzle that had to be assembled before she could make sense of anything. Smells of latex, tape, isopropyl alchohol. Sounds of voices, the rattling wheels of a cart or gurney, a telephone ringing, the composed blips of a vital signs monitor. She was disconcerted by the discovery that she was talking like an actress whose lines had been badly dubbed in a movie, syllables not quite matching up.

She was dressed in a thin cotton hospital gown that she had no memory of changing into. An IV needle had been inserted at the top of her hand and taped into place. Every time an ER tech or nurse came into the little curtained-off area, the rollers on the ceiling runners made a whisking sound, like eggs being beaten in a metal bowl.

Her right leg and ankle had been immobilized in a splint. Vague recollections of examinations and X-rays came to her. Even though she knew how lucky she was, how much worse the accident could have been, depression rolled over her in a smothering blanket. As she turned her head to the side, the pillow beneath her head gave a plasticky crackle. A tear runneled down her cheek, absorbed by the pillowcase.

“Here.” The nurse handed her a tissue. “That’s normal after an accident,” she said as Lucy blotted her eyes. “You’ll probably be doing that on and off for the next few days.”

“Thank you.” Lucy gripped the tissue in her palm. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with my leg?”

“The doctor’s reviewing the X-rays right now. He’ll be in to talk to you soon.” The woman smiled, her face kind. “In the meantime, you’ve got a visitor.” She whisked the curtain aside and stopped short as she confronted someone. “Oh! You were supposed to wait in that room.”

“I need to see her right now,” came Justine’s brisk voice.

A feeble grin came to Lucy’s face.

Justine swept in like a fresh breeze, her dark ponytail swinging, her presence vital in the cold sterility of the hospital surroundings. The relief of having her friend there brought a sting of tears to Lucy’s eyes.

“Lucy … sweetie…” Justine came to her, carefully straightening the loop of the IV tubing. “My God. I’m afraid to hug you. How bad is it? Anything broken?”

“The doctor’s coming in soon.” She reached for Justine’s hand, words coming out in a tumble. “I was riding my bike and I got sideswiped. The car was swerving like it was a drunk driver. I think it was a woman. I don’t know why she didn’t stop. I don’t know where my bike is, or my bag or phone—”

“Slow down.” Justine gripped her hand. “It wasn’t a drunk driver, it was an old lady. She thought she’d hit a branch, but she stopped a little ways up the road and came back. She was so upset when she realized what had happened, the couple who found you thought she was having a heart attack.”

“Poor woman,” Lucy murmured.

“Your bag and phone are here. The bike’s toast.”

“It’s a vintage Schwinn,” Lucy said mournfully. “From the sixties. All the original parts.”

“A bike can be replaced. You can’t.”

“You were sweet to come here,” Lucy said. “I know how busy you are.”

“Are you kidding? Nothing’s more important than you or Zoл. She wanted to come too, but someone had to stay at the inn.” Justine paused. “Before I forget, Duane wanted me to tell you that they’ve figured out the problem with your car. It has cylinder compression problems.”

“What does that mean?”

“It could involve a faulty intake valve or piston rings, cylinder head gaskets … Duane’s taking it to the shop to make sure it’s fixed right. No idea how long it might take.”

Lucy shook her head, exhausted and disoriented. “With my leg all messed up, I probably won’t be able to drive for a while anyway.”

“You have a legion of bikers who’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” Justine paused. “As long as you don’t mind getting there on a Harley.”

Lucy managed a faint smile.

The doctor, a black-haired man with tired eyes and a pleasant smile, came in.

“I’m Dr. Nagano,” he said, approaching Lucy. “Remember me?”

“Sort of,” Lucy said sheepishly. “You asked me to touch my nose. And you wanted to know my middle name.”

“Part of a diagnostic test. You have a slight concussion, which means you’ll need to rest for the next few days. And in light of your X-rays, that won’t be a problem.”

“You mean my leg? Is it broken?”

Dr. Nagano shook his head.

“Oh, good,” Lucy said.

“Actually, a clean break would be preferable. A bone heals more easily than a strained ligament.”

“That’s what I have? A strained ligament?”

“Three of them. Plus a hairline crack in the fibula, which is the smaller of your two calf bones. Needless to say, you’re going to be completely off your feet for the next three days.”

“I can’t even walk from one room to another?”

“That’s right. No weight at all on that leg. Keep it elevated and iced. Those ligaments are going to require some time to heal properly. I’ll be sending you home with some detailed instructions. In three days, you’ll come back for an Aircast brace and crutches.”

“For how long?”

“A minimum of three months in the brace.”

“God.” Lucy closed her eyes.

“Any other injuries?” she heard Justine ask.

“Scrapes and bruises, nothing major. The important thing is to monitor her for any side effects from the concussion … headache, nausea, confusion … in which case she’ll need to come in right away.”

“Got it,” Justine said.

After the doctor left, Lucy opened her eyes and saw Justine rubbing her forehead as if it was a wadded-up piece of paper she was trying to smooth out.

“Oh,” Lucy murmured in dawning dismay. “You and Zoл already have your hands full, don’t you?” For the past few days, they had been frantically preparing for a huge wedding and reception that would be held this weekend. “This is the worst possible time for me to do this to you.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Justine said. “And it’s not like there’s ever a convenient time to get hit by a car.”

“I’ve got to think of what to do … where to go…”

“Do not worry,” Justine said firmly. “From this moment every bit of your energy is going to be spent healing up. Not stressing. I’ll figure out what to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy said with a sniffle. “I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Shut. Up.” Justine reached for a fresh tissue and clamped it to Lucy’s nose as if she was a child. “Friends are the support bras of life. We don’t let each other down. Right?”

Lucy nodded.

Justine stood and smiled at her. “I’ll be in the waiting room, making a few calls. Don’t go anywhere.”

* * *

From the moment Sam had gotten Justine’s call, he’d been seized with grim anxiety. “I’ll be there” was all he’d said, and within fifteen minutes, he had reached the clinic.

Entering the building with ground-eating strides, he found Justine in the waiting room.

“Sam,” she said, a ghost of a smile crossing her face. “Thanks for coming here. It’s a hell of a situation.”

“How’s Lucy?” he asked curtly.

“A mild concussion, scrapes and cuts, and her leg is totally messed up. Strained ligaments and a fracture.”

“Damn it,” he said softly. “How did it happen?”

Justine explained in a flurry of words, while he listened without comment. “… so she can’t move at all for a few days,” she finished. “And even though Lucy doesn’t weigh much, Zoл and I can’t carry her around.”

“I’ll help,” Sam said at once.

Justine let out a deep sigh. “Thank God. I adore you. I knew you’d have enough room at your house, and Zoл and I have the wedding from hell at the inn this weekend. We won’t have one spare second, and there’s just no way we could—”

“Wait,” Sam interrupted brusquely. “I can’t take Lucy to my house.”

Justine clamped her hands on her hips and gave him an exasperated glance. “You just said you’d help.”

“Yes, help. She can’t stay with me.”

“Why not?”

The strength of his objection had left Sam temporarily mute. He had never let a woman spend the night at his place. And he especially didn’t want Lucy in his house. Especially not wounded and needing him. He had gone tense all over, a mist of sweat covering his skin.

“Why can’t someone else do it?” he asked tersely. “What about her parents?”

“They live in Pasadena.”

“Doesn’t she have other friends?”

“Yes, but not on the island. With the exception of Zoл and me, she lost the friends she made with Kevin. They didn’t want to piss him off by taking her side.” With exaggerated patience, Justine asked, “What exactly is the problem, Sam?”

“I barely know her,” he protested.

“You like her. You rushed right over here when I called.”

“I don’t know Lucy well enough to help her in and out of bed, carry her to the shower, change the bandages, all that stuff.”

“What, you’re all prudish now? Come off it, Sam. You’ve been with a lot of women. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“It’s not that.” Sam paced across the empty waiting room, raking a hand through his hair. How could he explain the profound danger of intimacy with Lucy? That the problem was how much he actually wanted to take care of her? He didn’t trust himself with her. He would end up having sex with her, taking advantage of her, hurting her.

He stopped pacing and glowered at Justine. “Look,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to get close to her. I don’t want her to depend on me.”

Justine gave him a narrow-eyed glance that should have slayed him on the spot. “Are you really that screwed up, Sam?”

“Of course I am,” he snapped. “Have I ever pretended to be normal?”

Justine made a sound of disgust. “You know what? I’m sorry I asked. My mistake.”

Sam scowled as she turned away. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry about it. Not your problem.”

“Who are you calling?” he insisted.

“Duane. He and his friends will take care of her.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “You’re going to give a wounded woman on medication to a biker gang?”

“They’re good guys. They have their own church.”

Instant fury sent hot blood to his face. “Having your own church doesn’t make you a good guy. It only makes you tax-exempt.”

“Don’t shout at me.”

“I’m not shouting.”

“I wouldn’t call that your inside voice, Sam.” Justine lifted her phone and tapped on the small screen.

“No,” he growled.

“No, what?”

Sam took a deep breath, yearning to put his fist through a wall. “I’ll—” He broke off and cleared his throat roughly, and gave her a wrathful glance. “I’ll take her.”

“To your house,” she clarified.

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Good. Thank you. My God, all this drama.” Shaking her head, Justine went to the vending machine and punched some buttons to get a drink.

* * *

Lucy blinked in bewilderment as Sam Nolan came through the curtain partitions. “What are you doing here?” she asked faintly.

“Justine called me.”

“She shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

His gaze slid over her, not missing a detail. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and gruff. “Are you in pain?”

“It’s not bad.” Lucy gestured to the IV bag. “They’ve got me on some kind of narcotic something-or-other.” Fretfully she added, “There’s a needle in my hand.”

“We’ll get you out of here soon.”

She focused on Sam’s T-shirt, dark blue with the printed white outlines of what looked like an old-fashioned telephone booth. “What is the phone booth for?”

“Police box. From Dr. Who.” Seeing her incomprehension, he explained, “It’s a time-traveling spacecraft.”

The shadow of a smile crossed her lips. “Geek,” she said, and blew her nose.

Drawing closer, Sam settled his hand on her hip, exploring the outlines of a polyurethane bandage, adjusting the drape of the hospital blanket over her splinted leg. There was something oddly proprietary about the way he touched her. Lucy stared at him in bewilderment, trying to fathom what was the matter with him. He had the air of a man who was facing an unpleasant duty.

“You look angry,” she said.

“I’m not.”

“You’re clenching your jaw.”

“That’s the way my jaw always looks.”

“Your eyes are glaring.”

“It’s the hospital lighting.”

“Something’s going on,” she insisted.

Sam took her icy hand in his, careful not to dislodge the pulse oximeter that had been clamped to her forefinger. His thumb rubbed lightly over the backs of her fingers. “For the next few days, you’re going to need someone to help you out. This is more than you can handle on your own.” A measured pause. “So I’m going to take you to Rainshadow Road with me.”

Lucy’s eyes widened, and she tugged her hand from his. “No. I … no, I won’t do that. Is that why Justine called you? God. I can’t go anywhere with you.”

Sam turned quietly ruthless. “Where are you planning to go, Lucy? The inn? Being closed off in a room by yourself with no one to help you? Even if Zoл and Justine didn’t have a big event going on this weekend, they’d still have a hard time getting you up and down all those stairs.”

Lucy pressed a clammy palm to her head, which had begun to ache fiercely. “I … I’ll call my parents.”

“They’re at least a thousand miles away.”

She was so worried and depleted that she felt her throat tighten against a new threat of tears. Appalled by her lack of control, she put her hand over her eyes and made a frustrated sound. “You’re too busy. The vineyard—”

“My crew will cover for me.”

“What about your brother and Holly?”

“They won’t mind. It’s a big house.”

As she began to comprehend the situation, Lucy realized that Sam would be helping her with bathing, eating, dressing—intimacies that would be embarrassing even with someone she had known for a long time. And he didn’t look any happier about the situation than she was.

“There’s got to be another solution,” Lucy said, trying desperately to think. She drew in an extra breath, and another, unable to get enough air into the tightening confines of her lungs.

“Damn it, don’t start hyperventilating.” Sam’s hand settled on her chest, rubbing a slow circle. The familiarity of the gesture caused her to gasp.

“I haven’t given you the right—” she began unsteadily.

“For the next few days,” Sam said, his lashes lowering to conceal his expression, “you’ll have to get used to having my hands on you.” The circling motion continued, and Lucy subsided helplessly. To her mortification, a little coughing sob escaped her. She closed her eyes. “You’re going to let me take care of you,” she heard him say. “Don’t waste your breath arguing. The fact is, you’re coming home with me.”