A Texas Ranger's Family. Mae Nunn
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mumbled to himself in Japanese before instructing the nurse to turn on the overhead lights one at a time. With the first flash, Erin squinted to adjust to the brightness, then looked in the direction of the person holding her hand.
The tall gentleman beside her was even more handsome than the skinny boy she remembered so well. The heart monitor began to beep loudly again. Daniel reminded her of a grinning but blurry George Strait. Quite something.
The second switch was snapped on and more light filled the room. Erin’s eyes cut left and right to find the fuzzy faces of the doctor and nurse who still supported her shoulders. When the final bank of bulbs glowed overhead, she turned her attention to the foot of the bed and focused hard on the girl dressed all in black, glints of silver dangling from her ears. Dana hugged herself with crossed arms that did nothing to disguise a body well-developed at a young age. As Erin found clear spots in her vision, she looked for signs of Daniel’s tanned good looks in his daughter. Instead she noted fair skin, a high forehead, a pointed chin and what looked like spikes of purple sprouting from her head.
As Erin’s squint locked on a dark gaze, her breathing stopped and her stomach quaked low in her abdomen. She knew those eyes. Up close there would be flecks of gold.
Erin was a little girl again, hiding with her sleeping baby brother in a dark pantry that smelled of rotting onions. Her mother’s screams had mercifully ended hours before but Erin had remained paralyzed, didn’t dare to make their presence known. Not even to the people who had finally come to help, the adults who were calling her name.
Suddenly the door swung open and amber eyes with glints of gold glared down from her big sister’s face. Her look was as accusing as her words.
“I knew you’d be in your hiding place, you little coward! You didn’t do anything to help Mama. Daddy finally killed her!”
Erin blinked, expecting her eyes and imagination were deceiving her addled brain. But the proof stood a few feet away and bore no resemblance to Daniel. From what Erin could make out, hair color was the only physical trait she’d passed on to her daughter. The rest of the girl was the mirror image of Erin’s older sister.
Alison.
“How soon can I get out of here?” Erin asked J.D. the moment Daniel and Dana left the room to give her some privacy with her boss.
Her Pillsbury Doughboy of a bureau chief was all smiles to see her sitting upright, her eyes unfettered by the bandages. But she was far from enjoying the blurry images around her. The very thought of being so needy and at the mercy of others, even in a hospital, made her insides shiver. Living with troops in Iraq was a whole lot easier than letting someone else call the shots or take control of her life.
“Take it easy, Wonder Woman. You’re still looking at another week here, then once they’re satisfied with your vitals and blood work, they’ll release you to a rehab facility.”
Rehab facility. The term conjured up dingy images of an institution filled with those who needed caregivers.
“Not if I can help it,” she murmured.
“There’s always the option of going to Texas with Daniel and Dana. They’re sincere about this, you know. It’s all that girl has talked about for days.”
Erin closed her eyes against the thought, reflecting instead on all the injuries she had to overcome.
“Let me make sure I got it all straight.” She began to recite her list of traumas. “My right arm was half blown off but thankfully reattached and though I’m going to survive my fingers may not. My pelvis is bruised, but not broken so that’s reason to be thankful. My corneas are healing but who knows whether or not I’ll be able to focus a camera lens again. The concussion from the IED generally produces long-term memory issues so I’m lucky I know my own name.” She paused to consider her circumstances, grateful to be alive but beginning to feel the anger of having lost control of her destiny.
“Oh, and the only viable option to my apartment is a nursing home.”
“It’s called a rehab facility,” J.D. countered.
“That’s code for smelly, depressing nursing home and we both know it.” Though it was shameful it felt amazingly good to gripe a little now that her voice was back.
“Erin, your frustration is understandable. Anyone in your condition would need to vent.” He squeezed her hand again. J.D. oozed calm and patience, traits he’d never displayed in the ten years she’d covered assignments for World View. His kindness didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, it made the few hair follicles that weren’t taped to her skin prickle with worry.
“Sooooo,” she dragged out the syllable. “Am I out of a job?” It might not be the question most people in her situation would ask, but work was her life. It was her world.
“Would you please stop imagining the worst?” J.D. sighed loud enough for Erin to hear. The bedside manner he’d worn for her sake was wearing thin. “You have months of sick time and excellent medical insurance. And don’t insult either of us with the insinuation that I’d let you get away from World View. You’ve shown more guts for living embedded with our troops and compassion for victims of war than the UN and the Red Cross rolled together.”
When she didn’t respond he patted her hand, accepting her silence.
“Kid, I’m sorry to leave already, but the nurse on the other side of the window is waving me out.” He pushed his chair away and stood. “I’ll be back tomorrow so you can make some decisions. There are nice places in Washington but I thought you might want to get back up to the city so I have a list of New York rehab hospitals to tell you about, too.”
“Can it wait a few days?” The idea of being relegated to an institution, no matter how well the reputation, made her empty stomach churn. “I know you want to get home to Mary Ellen and the boys but I’m going to need some time to ingest all this stuff.”
“Sure thing, no rush. And while you’re laid up, I’ve got some great reading to keep you occupied.”
“Not again, J.D.”
He regularly mentioned that there was a box of letters for her in the mail room but she always declined to have it forwarded. She wasn’t exactly Annie Leibovitz so what could possibly be in the postal tub besides credit card applications and Publishers Clearing House offers?
He smacked a loud kiss on her cheek and left Erin alone with her thoughts in the quiet room.
Even if only briefly, her situation was hopelessly out of her hands. But life had taught Erin to be a realist. Going home to her third floor walk-up was definitely not doable. She accepted the fact; her only choice was between a stinky nursing home in D.C. and a stinky nursing home in New York. Too bad a sweaty military Quonset hut wasn’t on the list. That would make it a no-brainer.
There’s always the option of going to Texas with Daniel and Dana. She recalled J.D.’s comment.
Is that truly an option, Lord? she whispered. After all my years of wandering the world in search of images that will honor You, have You brought me back to make things up to my child? To honor my family?
Chapter Two
The 767 eased to a stop at Houston’s Intercontinental Airport. Daniel slid his laptop into a worn leather case and stepped into the crowded, narrow aisle. He dipped the crown of his Ranger Stetson to avoid the low doorway of the aircraft and was immediately assaulted by a warm burst of muggy air. He merged with the mass of summer travelers, knowing his daughter’s flying experience would be a far cry from mundane.
He’d opted to use the other half of his commercial ticket after J.D.’s assurance that Dana would be secure on the pricey chartered Maverick. Neither female had objected, worn out as they all were from debating where Erin should recuperate. She’d been adamant that she wasn’t going to a recovery hospital, and determined to pay for professional home care. It had taken her boss to dissuade Erin from such a phenomenal out-of-pocket