A Ranger For The Holidays. Allie Pleiter
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She looked optimistic and hopeful, as if it would be a victory for both of them if he said yes.
Finn pointed to the “Happy Thanksgiving” decoration still up on his room wall. “I hope I ate well.” The near-joke surprised him. Her presence was the only thing that even came close to putting him at ease. Finn was thankful for her brightness against the black void he could feel lurking where his memory ought to have been.
“I’m sure this will all work itself out. Doc says your memory is likely to come back in bits and pieces over the next few days. I’ll do my best to make sure you’re comfortable while that happens and find your folks so they’re not out of their minds with worry. You just focus on resting and getting better.”
He really was injured, wasn’t he? The more he thought about it, the more he hurt. It felt as if someone had drained his body like a bathtub—Finn felt empty and fragile. At a loss physically, mentally and even emotionally. He put his hands up to cover his face for a moment, worried he couldn’t hold all the emptiness in. He didn’t even know where to go once they let him out of here.
A hand touched his elbow—the familiar touch he so desperately needed. “Hey, hey there,” she said softly. “I know this has got to be hard but, Finn, you’re gonna be fine. We’ll all help you until you know what’s next, okay?”
“Thank you for helping me.” It came out with more emotion than he would have liked.
“Well, that’s me. I’m a professional helper.” The cheery smile lit up her face again. “But I have to say, you’re my first honest-to-goodness rescue.”
She seemed so proud of it. It made him feel just a little bit less freakish. She tugged on a curl in her hair and he remembered—he remembered—her doing that. The whole world before her was a complete blank, but at least he could remember small details about her. “No kidding,” he said, smiling himself.
They stared at each other for a moment, oddly connected and yet in reality complete strangers.
“Well,” she said, breaking the quiet, “I’ve got to run some errands for the Lone Star League—that’s our local community organization—and you’ve got some tests and paperwork to do, so how about I come back after supper to see how you’re holding up?” She stood up. “I don’t live very far away, so it’s no trouble.” She pointed at him, her brows furrowing in mock-seriousness. “I expect my rescue-ees to make a full recovery, so you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
Finally, someone who didn’t look at him as if he’d been damaged beyond repair. “Got it.”
“See you later, Finn.” Hearing her say it, his name did sound right. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Amelia caught Dr. Tyler Grainger, the local pediatrician, in the hallway when she came back to the Medical Center a few hours later.
“I heard about your dramatic rescue,” Tyler said. “That’s got to be a first for Here to Help, isn’t it?”
“No one’s more surprised than I,” Amelia offered. “And speaking of surprises, word is you have one yourself.”
She could see Tyler hesitate. After such a public split from her own fiancé, it wasn’t hard to see why he might hold back his news. “So you heard I proposed to Eva?”
She made sure to give him a warm smile. “Good news travels almost as fast as gossip in Little Horn. Congratulations.” She really was happy for the good doctor, and Eva was becoming a close friend, but the news still stung. Their engagement came on the heels of that of League president Carson Thorn and another of Amelia’s friends Ruby Donnovan. Even Amelia’s sister, Lizzie, was recently engaged—Little Horn was having as much of a wedding boom as a crime spree lately. “Well, I’d best get in to visit my new project.”
Tyler looked at the package from Maggie’s, the local coffee shop, in Amelia’s hand. “The nurse told me you left some flowers in Ben Stillwater’s room, too. That’s a nice thing to do.” Ben Stillwater was a young man from Little Horn currently in a coma from a riding accident. “Does this man know how fortunate he is to be a project of yours?” the doctor teased.
“If he doesn’t, he will soon.” Amelia waved as she pushed the hospital room door open.
Finn looked better. Her heart still twisted at the lost look in his eyes, the way he searched places and faces as if desperate for any anchor. He looked at her as if hers was the only face that held any meaning for him. The half-eaten dinner beside him stirred her sympathy. Hospital food? If anyone needs the comfort of home cooking, it’s someone who can’t remember where home is.
He noticed her looking at the plate. “I remembered I don’t like peas.” The comment brought the faintest hint of a smile to his features. Finn’s mussed, lost-puppy charm kicked Amelia’s compulsion to help up a notch. That helpfulness was her special gift, but it occasionally proved her greatest weakness.
“I don’t care for myself, actually. My favorite food is pie. I’m extra partial to blueberry, but really, any pie will do.”
She’d hoped he’d say something like My favorite is apple, but he only shrugged and said, “Who doesn’t like pie?”
Amelia sat down, putting the bakery box on his bedside table. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I went for the basics—apple, cherry and, given the season, pumpkin.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, startled. “You brought me pie?”
What kind of life had he led that a simple kindness seemed so foreign to him? “I am of the opinion that pie makes most things better,” she explained as she retrieved a second box with her own slice of blueberry. “Actually,” she added, fishing two plastic forks out of the bag, “I haven’t met the situation that can’t be improved by a good slice of pie.” Amelia dismissed his bed tray to the other side of the room and replaced it with the selection of pie slices. “Anything look especially appealing?”
She watched as his startled expression warmed to a small smile. Small, a tiny bit forced, but enough to restore the striking quality of those light blue eyes. Against the white of his bandages and the brown-black gloss of his hair, his eyes drew her gaze, making her stare even though she knew better.
Picking up the fork, he scanned the selection. “I think I like pumpkin.”
“Only one way to find out,” Amelia cued as she picked up her own fork and dug in. Delicious. She hoped Finn thought so, too.
She watched in satisfaction as his face registered the gastronomic pleasure that was Maggie’s Coffee Shop pies. “Oh—” he sighed in just the way she’d hoped he would “—that’s good. Beats peas and whatever meat that was supposed to be.” He took another bite. “Thank you kindly.”
It was gratifying to see him even a little bit happy. “My pleasure.”
After a third bite, he paused to look at her, his head cocked sideways in analysis. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you being so nice to a complete stranger?” The sad edge he gave those last two words poked Amelia under the ribs.
Amelia had trouble explaining her compulsion to help folks in need to good friends, much less to strangers like Finn. Only he wasn’t a stranger. He was someone she was supposed to help. Someone she didn’t find by accident, but by Providence. She recognized the pull toward his circumstances, the slow burn of burden in her heart that she’d come to know as her unique gift in God’s kingdom. While life had taken away important people—her parents, her grandmother, Rafe—life had given her lots of funds and a generous heart. “I make it a practice to be nice to everybody. And you’re not really a stranger anymore.”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he concentrated on a fourth bite of pie until his curiosity evidently