Snowstorm Confessions. Rachel Lee
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with his leg extended in front of him.
“Everything is not okay,” Ted muttered to her. “Loony tunes.”
“Concussion.”
He sighed. “I know that. I was just warning you. Sometimes he makes sense. Sometimes not so much.” He hopped up inside and passed down a couple of heavy plastic bags. “Supplies, meds and instructions, and his personal belongings,” he said by way of explanation. “Open the front door for us, will you?”
Except for a couple of groans when he was inadvertently jostled, Luke remained surprisingly quiet. Ted and Tim were sweethearts and helped Luke to the bathroom before lifting him onto the bed and helping to raise his leg.
Throughout, Luke groaned sometimes but didn’t complain. She gave him credit for that because he certainly had enough to complain about.
“Doc David said to tell you he had IV painkillers before he left the hospital. None of that stuff in the bag until around nine p.m.”
Then Ted paused. “You can’t do this alone.” He pulled out a card and scribbled on the back. “Our home phone numbers. You need anything at all, call. Did you get some stuff he can eat? Because we can run to the store or something.”
“I stocked up on broths and there are four milk shakes in the fridge.”
Ted nodded approval. “We’ll bring some more tomorrow.”
Then they zipped out with cheery goodbyes.
After she closed the door, Bri thought the house felt at once strangely full and strangely silent. As if something dark had entered.
Only her own past. Hooking her jacket onto the hall tree, she went into the living room to check on her patient. To her surprise, he was wide-awake and more like himself. His gaze was sharper, as if the world had once again come into focus for him.
“I’m sorry, Bri. I’m messing up your life.”
“That depends. If you behave yourself, no mess. How are you feeling?”
“Like I took a bad fall and broke too many things. I don’t know what they gave me for pain, but it almost feels like it’s a long way away.”
“Well, that’s good, anyway.” She pulled over the desk chair she had brought out here because it would be easy to roll around and sat beside him. “Do you remember anything about what happened?”
“No.” He didn’t even try to shake his head. It probably felt as big as a pumpkin, she thought. “I know we were climbing around checking out sight lines and terrain. To build up there we’re going to have to do some blasting. The last thing I remember was walking along what looked like a level path. The snow wasn’t very deep. I guess it must have been slippery, though.” Lifting his good arm, he waved at himself, then winced slightly. “Damn, how long am I going to be like this?”
“It’s going to take a while,” she said honestly. “If you behave, you might get a walking cast in a week or two, but I don’t know. I’m not the doctor.”
“Hell.” He sighed and closed his eyes. The next thing she heard was a quiet snore.
She pulled the blanket up to protect him against drafts. Even with the heat on it was still cold enough at night that occasionally the chill wafted through the house like frigid fingers.
His being asleep gave her time, though, to go eat her own dinner. When she’d stopped for the milk shakes, she had bought herself one of Maude’s steak sandwiches and a salad, enough to keep her going for two days. She ate quickly, concerned about Luke in the next room, but she didn’t want him to wake and see her chowing down on real food. He had enough misery to contend with.
After she cleaned up, she went back to check on him. His eyes were open, and despite the red and rapidly purpling swelling that covered one whole side of his face, he managed a crooked smile. “Thanks, Bri.”
“Somebody had to do it. DEL apparently doesn’t think you’re worth bringing back.”
“Probably thinks I should have stayed in the hospital.”
“Maybe you should have.”
“Doesn’t suit me.”
“No kidding.” Once again she could almost see the humor in this, except there was absolutely nothing humorous about the injuries he had suffered. “Getting hungry?”
“A little.”
“Broth or milk shake?”
“Milk. Please.” At least that was what it had sounded like. So she brought him a milk shake and when she was sure he had a good grip on it, she sat again. “You want the TV?”
“Not really. Maybe later. I’m...having a little trouble following things.”
She could well believe it. The improvement since last night was huge, but he was going to take a while to come back fully. It was a good sign, however, that he recognized he was having a problem.
“Pretty, up there on the mountain,” he mumbled.
“It certainly is. I’m not sure I want to see it turned into a resort.”
“You and shum—somebody else.”
Her heart slammed. Had he remembered? “You think you were pushed?”
“Mike said.”
So he had heard what Mike said. Not exactly evidence of anything except that he now remembered something from this morning. Impulsively, she reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. Almost at once she snatched it back, shocked by the zing of attraction she felt for him. She knew his body intimately, and at this most inappropriate time, those memories seemed to want to come back. She had to force herself to remain professional when she had the worst urge to lean over him, kiss him and tell him everything would be okay. “Don’t worry about it. The important thing is to heal. Everything else can wait.”
“Never been a good waiter.” Then he dozed off again. She caught the milk shake as it began to tip from his hand and set it beside him on the adjustable table that had been brought with the bed.
Sitting back, she watched him, thinking about how fast her life had been turned on end, and what it might mean if he had been right about someone pushing him.
There were certainly people hereabouts who didn’t want to see anything change. They’d resisted the semiconductor plant and had celebrated when it shut down and the jobs went overseas. They barely tolerated the community college. Why would they ever want a big resort that would bring all kinds of strangers to the area?
But there were a lot more people who wanted jobs. Wanted some kind of economic infusion into this county. Ranching was no longer the big moneymaker it had once been, not since the commodities markets and ethanol had raised the cost of feed through the roof. A lot of them stuck it out, though, refusing to give up their way of life and land that their families had owned for generations. She watched them make all kinds of hard adjustments to survive.
But people in town were making the same adjustments. Church rummage sales were so well picked-over these days that there hardly seemed to be anything left for them. Nearly everyone dressed in secondhand clothes, pregnant women traded outfits, young mothers traded baby clothes, and even goods from China weren’t moving fast off the racks at Freitag’s Mercantile.
The place was fading, she thought sadly. Probably like a million other small rural communities. A ski resort could turn that around. It might not mean great jobs for the locals, but it would mean jobs. Business for the stores in town, as long as the resort didn’t supply everything. She needed to ask Luke about that.
But the entire character of the community would change, and she really couldn’t blame the folks who wanted to resist.
“Face-lift.”
The word startled her back to the present and she realized Luke was awake again. She put the