A Forever Christmas. Marie Ferrarella
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as soon as he hung up with you. I picked up the call,” she added needlessly. Satisfied that her brother had no mortal wounds, she seemed to relax a little. For the first time, she took note of the woman slumped beside him on the passenger seat. “What happened to her?”
Gabe shrugged, his wide shoulders reinforcing his answer. “Damned if I know. I was driving into town when I spotted her car.” He nodded in the general direction of the ravine. “It was tottering on the edge, two wheels in the air and set to drop like a stone at the slightest shift in weight.”
“And she didn’t say how that happened?”
Gabe shook his head. “She was unconscious when I got there.” His eyes shifted toward Mick. The mechanic was now standing behind Alma. With the sedan burned, there was nothing for the man to tow or fix. “Sorry I got you out here for no reason, Mick,” he apologized.
Mick rubbed the ever-present graying stubble along his chin as he looked back at what was left of the sedan. “Oh, I dunno. Might take it back to the shop, anyway, and do me a little detective work on the remains. Figure out why it burned,” he explained, adding, “Things are a might slow right now. Could use the diversion.” He paused and peered closer into the cab of Gabe’s truck. “You don’t need a tow in or nuthin’, do you?”
With a pleased smile, Gabe sat up and affectionately patted the dashboard. “She handled herself just like the trouper she is, Mick.”
Mick beamed with satisfaction, like a parent whose child had remembered all his lines in the school play. “That’s ’cause she had a good mechanic,” Mick pointed out matter-of-factly. Then he nodded at the woman whose car was now a charred heap and asked, “What are you gonna do about her?”
Alma already had her cell out. “I’ll call ahead to the doc, tell him we’ve got an emergency coming in.” She looked at her brother. “Two emergencies,” she corrected. When Gabe raised one quizzical eyebrow, she said, “Have him check out both of you.”
“I’m fine,” Gabriel told her firmly. He absolutely hated being fussed over, especially when the person doing the fussing was a doctor.
With a sigh, Alma shifted the cell phone to her other hand. Leaning in, she ran the tips of two of her fingers along his bare arm. Holding up “Exhibit A” for Gabe’s perusal, she said, “Not from where I’m standing. You’ve got cuts on both your arms, big brother. You’re seeing the doctor.” There was no room for argument in her tone.
Gabe tried, anyway. “But—”
Alma leveled a pointed, silencing look at him. “You’re seeing the doctor, Gabe,” she repeated with deadly conviction, “even if I have to beat you senseless to do it.”
He laughed shortly. That was Alma. If sweet talk didn’t work, she instantly turned to verbal threats, which in turn bore fruit if necessary.
“Comforting,” he cracked.
“I wasn’t trying to be comforting,” Alma informed him crisply. “I was just trying to keep you from bleeding to death. Don’t want or need you preying on my conscience, Gabriel.”
Gabe gave up arguing the point directly and resorted to shifting the focus of the conversation.
“I’m more concerned about her,” Gabe said. He took out a handkerchief and wiped away some of the blood on the blonde’s forehead.
The handkerchief fell from his fingers when he heard the woman moan.
It was the first actual sign of life he’d gotten from her. “You’re okay,” he said to the blonde with feeling. “You’re with friends.”
“Friends she ain’t met yet,” Mick, who’d been silent for the most part, now quipped before walking away to take a closer look at what remained of the car.
It was still raining. Not nearly as badly as it had been earlier, but sufficiently enough to put out what there still was of the fire. Plumes of smoke twisted and turned in the air before fading off to become part of the atmosphere.
Alma looked at Gabe uncertainly. She knew the way he thought, knew the way all her brothers thought. Each and every one of them believed he was indestructible. It was a common family failing.
“You sure you’re okay to drive?” she pressed. “Because I could—”
Gabe knew where this was going and quickly cut his sister off.
“I’m okay,” he assured her, then after a beat, added in a quieter voice, “Thanks for asking.”
For a second, Alma was speechless, then flashed her brother a tight smile. Stepping back from the truck, she told him, “I’ll drive behind you to make sure you don’t suddenly need something.”
Gabe didn’t see himself needing anything, suddenly or otherwise, but he knew there was no point in arguing. All he could do was just restate his position. “I’m okay, but suit yourself.”
“Thanks for your permission,” Alma said dryly, though he could tell she was doing her best to cover up her fear of losing him.
Gabe grinned for the first time since Alma had come on the scene. “Don’t mention it.”
Alma waved a dismissive hand at him as she walked away.
Mick was busy hooking up his tow truck to what was left of the woman’s charred sedan and Alma was getting back into her Jeep while making the call to Dan’s office to let the doctor know that he had an emergency patient coming in. Neither one of them saw the woman in Gabe’s truck suddenly sit up as he started the vehicle again.
“No!”
The single word tore from her lips. There was terror in her eyes and she gave every indication that she was going to jump out of the truck’s cab—or at least try to. Surprised, Gabe quickly grabbed her by the arm with his free hand, pulling her back inside the vehicle and into her seat.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” he told her.
The fear in her eyes remained. If anything, it grew even larger.
“Who are you?” the blonde cried breathlessly. She appeared completely disoriented.
“Gabriel Rodriguez.” Since he knew the name would mean nothing to her, he added, “I’m the guy who pulled you out of your car and kept you from becoming a piece of charcoal.”
Her expression didn’t change. It was as if his words weren’t even registering. Nonetheless, Gabe paused, giving her a minute as he waited for her response.
But the woman said nothing.
“Okay,” he coaxed as he continued driving toward Forever, “your turn.”
The world, both inside the moving vehicle and outside of it, was spinning faster and faster, making it impossible for her to focus. Moreover, she couldn’t seem to manage to pull her thoughts together. Couldn’t get passed the heavy hand of fear that was all but smothering her, pushing her deep into the seat she was sitting on.
“My turn?” she echoed. What did that mean, her turn? Her turn to do what, go where?
“Yes, your turn,” he repeated. Then, because she looked no clearer on the concept than she had a second ago, he elaborated. “I told you my name. Now you tell me yours.”
Her name.
The two words echoed in her brain, encountering only emptiness.
The silence stretched until it was a long, thin thread, leading nowhere. Finally, just before he repeated his question again, she said in a small voice, hardly above a whisper, “I can’t.”
She was afraid, he thought. She didn’t trust him. He could accept that. Considering what she had just gone through, there was little wonder at her reaction.
He did his best to reassure her.
“Look, I’m a deputy sheriff,” he