Rescued By Mr. Wrong. Cynthia Thomason
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doctor had told her to use the sticks for a short time and then rely on the walking boot. The transition couldn’t come fast enough. Walking with crutches wasn’t for sissies, and neither was going over eight hours without a meal.
As if reading her mind, Keegan said, “We should eat. What do you want?”
What was he going to do, show her a menu? How much food could he have in this place? She decided to make it simple. “I usually have grilled cheese and tomato soup when I’m not feeling well.”
“I can manage that.” He headed to the kitchen and began opening cupboard doors. “One Christmas dinner coming up.”
Oh, yikes! Christmas! Carrie had left all the presents in her car. And she’d promised to call her family. She dug her cell phone out of her purse, settled into the sofa cushions to muffle her voice in Keegan’s small living room, and dialed her father’s number. She had to be careful with her words so her father wouldn’t conclude that she was having a problem or that she’d disobeyed his very strict orders. Thank goodness her young nephew, Wesley, answered the phone. Carrie adored the six-year-old.
“Hey, Aunt Carrie, this is the best Christmas ever, except you’re not here.”
“I know, sweetie. I miss everyone so much.”
They talked about his gifts and the giant tree that her sister Jude’s friend had brought them. Jude had been furious at first when Liam Manning had carried the tree into her small apartment above the barn at Dancing Falls, but she’d quickly adapted to the Christmas spirit once she realized that she was crazy about the man who’d brought her the tree.
Wesley passed the phone around and Carrie spoke to everyone. Her sister Jude seemed so much more cheerful than usual. And her sister Alexis’s newlywed status made her positively euphoric. Last, Carrie spoke to her niece, Lizzie, and then her father. Their conversation was especially brief, and she ended it with asking her dad to give her mother a kiss for her.
When she finally hung up without telling her family any of the events of her day, Carrie realized she truly did miss them all. But she wasn’t about to make her misfortune a reason for her sisters or father to start out on icy roads, or for her father to keep her at Dancing Falls forever.
“Everybody okay?”
Keegan’s voice cut through her melancholy. “Who? What do you mean?”
“Whoever you were talking to. I hope he had a nice Christmas.”
“If you mean my first-grade nephew, then, yes, he did.”
Keegan set a tray with two meals on an ottoman, and handed Carrie a napkin, a glass of water and a pain pill.
“This looks wonderful,” she said, breathing in the scent of melted cheese and warm tomatoes. She took the pill, and ate a few bites before saying, “Thanks for this, Keegan. And don’t worry about the sleeping arrangements. I’ll be fine on this sofa.”
“You’ll take the bed tonight,” he said matter-of-factly. “Can’t have you thrashing about on the sofa and maybe falling off.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll probably just sit up all night and stare at you.”
She widened her eyes at him. “Now, that’s just creepy.”
He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “I know, but that’s what these instructions from the hospital say I’m supposed to do. So take up the creepiness factor with the doctor.” He picked up his sandwich and the TV remote. “You watch the news?”
“Sure.”
They settled back to engage in world events and images of Christmas cheer until Carrie finished her dinner and fell asleep on the couch.
A few hours later, she didn’t know how many, she heard someone call her name. “Carrie, Carrie, wake up.”
“I’M SORRY,” a man’s voice said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She tried to erase the fog in her brain by taking deep breaths and sitting up. Unfortunately, nothing in her body seemed to be working. She heard herself moan.
“I figured you’d be sore,” the man said. “Usually takes a few hours after an accident for the muscles to tighten up.”
The past hours were slowly coming back to her. And the fact that she was in a cabin with a man she’d only just met. “Keegan?”
“Who else did you think it would be?” he said. “Don’t try to get up. I’m just checking on you. I’m supposed to wake you through the night.”
“I’m a little confused...”
A small lamp burned in the corner of an unfamiliar room. In the dim light, she attempted to acclimate herself to the surroundings. The last she remembered, she’d been watching an orchestra perform at the White House on a huge flat-screen TV. She’d been on the sofa. Now she was definitely in a bed. The room was cool and quiet.
“How did I get here?”
“Not on those crutches.”
“You carried me in here?”
He responded with a nod and withdrew a small metal cylinder from his shirt pocket. A flashlight. Carrie realized he’d changed clothes, trading his long-sleeved Henley shirt for a warmer flannel one. Apparently he’d showered, too. A fresh pine scent drifted to her nose. She loved the smell of pine.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“One a.m. I’ve got to give you a pill and check your pupils.”
“What for?”
“I’m not sure.” He looked at the paper he’d held earlier. “One might be larger than the other, or they both might be big. Or, hopefully, they both will be normal-sized. I’ve got to ask you some questions, too.”
He pushed a button, turning on the modern LED flashlight. She allowed him to hold up her eyelids and shine the light in her eyes.
“They look okay to me. Do you think you’re going to throw up?”
“What? No.”
“What’s your name?”
She frowned. “We don’t really have to do this, do we?” When he simply stared at her, she said, “Carrie.”
“Do you remember how you got here to my place?”
“Of course. I’m not confused anymore. My whole body hurts, and I’m tired. Can I go back to sleep now?”
“I’m supposed to ask you when you were born and who the president of the United States is.”
“I can put your mind at ease,” she said. “I was born thirty years ago, and the president is my boss. You can go because I’m quite fine, really.” She moved and pain sliced up her leg. “But not before you give me that pain pill.”
He handed her the pill and a glass of water. She pushed herself up in the bed and leaned against a pillow. And noticed that she wasn’t wearing her clothes. A soft cotton T-shirt fell loosely around her torso. “This shirt is yours?”
“It is.”
“How did I end up wearing it?” she asked. “Tell me you didn’t...”
“I did. But don’t get your princess panties in a twist.” He frowned. “Oops, sorry about the princess thing. You’re still wearing the underwear and socks you showed up in. There were blood stains on your sweater. I’ve washed it and hung it up to dry. You can reswaddle yourself appropriately in the morning.”
“I will.” She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed, angry or grateful.