Saving Amy Jayden Page 5

  “Here, your thermoses are ready. I'm going to see Dad.”

  “Could you pick up few groceries for me if I give you a list?”

  “How will I get them home? The other truck is bad, remember?”

  “Nevada can take you. Or if he's busy, ask to use the other truck. He said the mechanic is coming later in the day.”

  “I don't think I want to ask him again.”

  “He'll gladly do it.” Sam's eyes bore into her and Amy shifted under her gaze. Why was Sam bent on throwing them together?

  Amy couldn't remember the last time she had this measure of difficulty relating with someone. “No, he'll do it out of a sense of duty.”

  “Give him a break and don't roll those eyes.”

  “I'm not,” Amy said laughing. “With all the work going on...”

  “He'd have been the one to take me, since I can’t drive with my bad knee. The earlier both of you learn to exist together the better you’ll be. Now run along.”

  Nevada walked in just then. He cut his gaze to her and nodded, giving her a cool good morning. Blushing painfully, she returned his greeting.

  What was wrong with her? They were both behaving like a married couple.

  “I trust your night was good?” he asked, like he really cared.

  If he was putting up a front for Sam, he was doing a fab job of it.

  “Fine.”

  He nodded and looked away. Sam busied herself filling the thermoses. What would she think?

  “I want to go see my father and then pick up a few things. I was wondering if you could take me... but if you can't, I'll find a way.” She hastened to add. She didn't say his name, but he'd know she was addressing him.

  Before he opened his mouth, Sam cut in.

  “You'll take her Nevada, because she’s shopping for me. She can't lug groceries back by herself.” Her tone brooked no contradiction.

  Sam was meddling. To what intent? They were bound to irritate each other more at this rate. “When will you be ready to go?”

  “As soon as Sam draws up her list.” Amy didn't meet his gaze.

  “Meet me outside when you’re set.”

  She stepped out of sight, but stayed behind the door so she could see them. Bad habit, yeah, she knew that.

  He turned and encountered Sam's gaze.

  “I know what you think. I'm making an effort and I'll try harder.”

  “I know you will,” Sam said.

  He nodded and poured himself coffee. “See you when I get back.” He kissed her on the cheek and went out with his cup of coffee. He had given his word, but maybe she was the problem. Maybe she was difficult to get along with.

  “I’M SORRY ABOUT YESTERDAY.” His eyes left the road briefly to look at her. “I won't make any excuse for myself. I’m not very good at...” He turned his attention back to the road. “I want us to start afresh and at least get along.”

  “I'm sorry too. I haven't behaved well, either.”

  Her frankness was refreshing. “So, can we forget that and move on?”

  “I guess we can,” she said smiling, her cheeks dimpled. Why hadn't he noticed that before? How would you when you spend all your time keeping your defenses up?

  Amy wasn’t Brooke, but he wasn’t ready to test the waters. Not with his boss’s daughter anyway. Yet, nothing said he couldn’t get along with her.

  When he cut the engine, he said, “Go on and see your father. I'll see if the doctor’s around, then meet you there unless you want to talk to him too.”

  “No, I’ll just go see Dad.” She exited the truck and walked in the direction of the hospital entrance while he found a spot to park.

  Her scent lingered, soft, alluring, it reminded him of summer. His attraction to Amy was getting stronger. But who wanted a street kid with no roots? Brooke definitely didn’t.

  I do.

  I know You do, Lord. And, I’m grateful for that.

  Good. I want you to know that. Be patient. Trust the process, the small voice whispered.

  Yes, Lord.

  He climbed out of the truck. Was he ready for whatever the process meant?

  Chapter Nine

  THE BUTTERFLIES SET off by his lopsided smile quieted some. She was glad they had reached a truce.

  If anyone asked her why they didn’t seem to get along, she wouldn’t know exactly what to say. Assumptions that it was for fear of his future were just that, assumptions. He didn't strike her as a chauvinist, so, the idea he didn't want to answer to her didn’t come in.

  She rounded the corner and stepped up to the nurse at the station. “Good morning. I'm Amy Jayden. I'd like to see my dad Anthony Jayden.”

  “You know his room number?” The nurse whose name tag read Lorraine smiled at Amy.

  “I do.”

  “All right, go on up. I'll be with you shortly. “

  Amy thanked her and walked away. Stepping into the clean room moments later, the smell of antiseptic hit her and flooded her with memories of the day her mother had been brought in here.

  Amy shook her head, clearing it of the memories. Taking the only seat beside his bed, she held his hand. The gentle rising and falling of her dad’s chest reassured her he was still there.

  But, for how long?

  There was a gentle knock and the nurse walked in. “I'm Lorraine. I want to change some of his gadgets.” She went on to explain all that she'd be doing with the wound drains, catheter and feeding tube.

  She couldn't be much older than Amy’s twenty-six years. Lorraine's manner was respectful. Her likeable persona drew Amy in.

  She watched the lady as she deftly changed the tubes on the appliances. When she removed the tube in Dad’s nose and proceeded to put another in, Amy broke out in a fine sweat.

  She stepped away towards the window and took several calming breaths. The man in the bed didn’t resemble the father she once knew. Strong, quiet, and accomplished. How could he be reduced to this helpless person on the bed? Her throat tickled. Amy closed her eyes and bit down hard on her bottom lip.

  “All done,” Lorraine said.

  Amy blinked to clear her vision, and to gain a measure of control. She turned. “Do you think he'll pull through?”

  Lorraine was thoughtful for a moment.

  “Physical evidence points otherwise.” She faced Amy, her ever present smile in place. “But, in medicine, we've learned to never say never. Some patients defy all odds and against every possible explanation they take a turn for the better. We are doing all we can and hoping for the best.”

  She pressed a lever to change his position and then came to stand beside Amy, placing a hand on her shoulder. “If you have any concerns, you might want to speak with the surgeon.” Lorraine held Amy’s gaze. “All things are possible with them that believe.”

  Amy nodded, not sure she could speak past the lump lodged in her throat. Unfortunately, she didn’t believe. Stopped believing was more like it. If her father died without waking, she didn't know how she'd live with the guilt.

  There was another knock on the door and Lorraine gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and stepped away as Nevada walked in.

  Amy took the seat again. She ran her thumb over the blue veins that stood out on her dad’s hand. They looked strong. He didn’t appear anything like his fifty years.

  Where were all her Christian beliefs when she had blamed her father these five years? “What did the doctor say?”

  Nevada's hesitation told her all was not well.

  “We should be hopeful, nothing is impossible...”

  “That didn't answer my question, did it?” She pinned him with her gaze and dared him to lie to her face.

  He gave a small shrug. “He's not very hopeful... but it doesn't mean we can't be.” He hastened to add.

  She pushed a shaky hand through her hair then placed her father's hand gently on the bed. Amy stood and walked up to Nevada. She folded her hands on her chest and looked at him. Her throat worked for a moment before she made herself speak
. Self-deprecation filled her. “My mother wasn't pushed. She knew how to ride well. The horse got spooked and she was thrown. She landed on her head and died enroute to the hospital.”

  Something flashed in his eyes. Compassion?

  Letting the tears flow she swallowed and continued. “Maybe if she wasn't upset because she and my father had argued that day, she'd have paid more attention. I left home the day after she was buried and didn't look back until this... What kind of child does that?”

  Nevada straightened from where he leaned against the wall. “You were hurting. Don't be hard on yourself.”

  She felt like a lost child. His words only made her cry harder. Amy covered her face. When he drew her into his arms, it was tentative, like he half expected her to push him away.

  Amy clung to the lapels of his coat and wept. He held her, his musky cologne surrounding her. Though it was out of sympathy, it felt good.

  She sniffled. “I don't know how I'll be able to live with myself if he dies.”

  “Don't think that way.”

  She didn't miss the sadness in his voice. Was it because of her father or the ranch? The ranch's continuance depended on her father’s survival. She wouldn't want to stay back on the ranch, wouldn't even know how to start running it.

  She stepped out of his embrace, heat suffusing her face. “I'm sorry, I'm never like this.”

  “Don't worry about it. Let's stay hopeful. Okay?” He produced a clean bandana and handed it to her.

  She nodded. Silence stretched out between them, but not the usual tense quietness.

  He checked his watch. “Eleven a.m.”

  They'd been there for almost an hour.

  “Are you still up to shopping? Sam will understand if you can't,” Nevada said.

  “I can't make you come all the way and not do what—”

  “It doesn't matter. I'll bring you when you are ready.”

  “Thanks...” She bit her lip. “I misjudged you...” She broke off and gave him a small smile. “If the other truck gets fixed, I could go alone. If not, can we go tomorrow?”

  “Your wish is my command.” He swept her a small bow and she worked up a smile.

  “I'll stay a bit more. Can you pick me up in the evening, say four pm so that I don't keep you from work?”

  “Four it is then.” He walked out.

  Let everything be all right, she pleaded.

  And the thought jolted her.

  IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT when Nevada returned to the house. Amy sat in the glider, a duvet around her. “It’s cold,” he said.

  “Yeah, and it’s supposed to be spring.”

  Nevada chuckled. “You can say that again.” He slid onto the glider. She’d been quiet all through the drive home from the hospital. He could imagine what was going through her mind and decided to give her space. “You’re not sleeping. Are you okay?”

  “Who says I’m not fine?” Her tone was quiet, subdued.

  He stared at her face in profile for a few seconds. “It helps to talk about whatever is bothering you.”

  “It doesn’t help if the one asking is the one bothering me.” She smiled, but he could see her eyes shone with unshed tears.

  “Am I disturbing you?”

  “Uh, no. I was just joking.”

  “Amy, you need to rest more.”

  “What if he wakes up and I’m not there?” Amy swiped her cheek.

  The words cut him. She couldn’t be there round the clock, like now. But he didn’t point that out. He reached out and took her hand, offering his strength where words failed.

  “How are you always so sure?”

  He looked at her, but she didn’t meet his gaze. “About what?”

  “Your faith.” She shrugged. “What’s it like for you?”

  Nevada didn’t talk about his past. The scripture from 1 Peter 3:15 came to him. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.

  Was that what God wanted from him?

  “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

  He squeezed her hand and set the glider in motion. “I’m not always so sure about a lot of things. A lot. But, one thing I know is that if God loved me enough to send Christ to die for me, then, He loves me enough to have my back.”

  He stopped. Was he communicating properly?

  He was never good with words. That’s the reason he’d always resorted to anger and physical measures when things didn’t go his way. He’d nearly knocked out his previous boss's teeth.

  Thankfully, the man had not pressed charges against Nevada. Finding himself back on the street at twenty-two had been his wake-up call. He’d been good at what he did and knew if he got his act together, he’d do well.

  There was no way he could’ve fixed himself, but God did.

  Still was working on him.

  Amy squeezed his hand bringing him from his reverie.

  “I didn’t always believe. Growing up as a street kid didn’t give you much to believe in. You just survived somehow. And I made a lot of mistakes in the process.” He sighed and traced his thumb across her hand.

  Amy was the first person he was going in-depth with. Even when he and Brooke dated months before, he hadn’t told her much.

  He was glad he hadn’t, because he obviously wasn’t good enough for her, even without her knowing his baggage. “It’s a long story. When I met Angel, it was during their church’s rally in preparation for a new year's program. His dad’s a pastor. I only went because they had a potluck and at least I’d have my stomach filled for that day and a warm place from the cold.”

  He smiled at her and she reciprocated.

  He couldn’t figure out yet why he felt comfortable sharing his past with Amy. “At the program, God made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. The rest is history.”

  “Wow.” Her voice sounded breathless, stirring something in the region of his heart.

  “Faith is a walk, not some sprint or hundred-meter dash. It’s not always easy. It’s a daily conscious choice. I look to what He did for me, wanting and accepting me when no one did. It was a proposal I couldn’t decline.”

  Amy covered her face with the other hand, sniffling.

  “Hey, I didn’t tell you to make you cry.”

  “It’s not that.” Her voice wobbled.

  He tried to take her hand off, but she wouldn’t let him. “What is it? You’re making me feel bad. I thought you wanted to hear about my hope.”

  She dropped her hand. Her eyes were red with pain written in their depths. Nevada wanted to kiss her aches away, assure her that all would be well. But they both had baggage they were dealing with.

  He wasn’t good enough for her. All he could do was pray for her, hope that she found her way out of the guilt that held her.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Come here.” He held her, not knowing what plagued her.

  God, I sure have messed things up.

  No, son. She’s going through a process. Trust me on this.

  Process again. He sighed. You sure have a lot of those going on, Lord. But, please make it easy on Amy, especially with her father.

  I wound and I bind.

  Nevada didn’t like the sound of that. But he’d learned that “all things work together for good” didn’t mean all those things would be good things. He hadn’t fully realized the good in all he’d gone through in the past, but the fact that God was working on his anger issues was one.

  If his story tonight helped Amy, that was another good.

  He hoped.

  Chapter Ten

  NEVADA NEEDED TO STOP thinking of himself. If Amy did sell the ranch, she had every reason and right to. The scene from the day before played on his mind all last night, kept his sleep at bay. Somehow, she’d woken up a protective instinct in him like he hadn’t felt for anyone.

  When he’d held her at the hospital, he hadn’t been thinking anything of it. In his wildest imagination, he'd never
thought she'd let him hold her. From the way she blushed, she must have been embarrassed.

  He smiled to himself.

  He hadn’t met someone who blushed over everything. And then he’d held her again last night and it felt natural. He wanted her to be happy.

  Nevada walked into the maternity barn. The ones that had calved had already been moved to another part of the ranch. No new calves tonight. He made his way to check the new mothers and their babies.

  The novelty of the first week was ending with sore muscles for everyone at the end of each day. The maternity barn was closer to the bunkhouse, but with other work going on, everyone needed as much rest as they could get, hence the night checks fell to him and Angel.

  With a heifer in second stage, it was better to stick around. He walked out into the night and sat on the boulder beside the maternity barn. It had drizzled earlier. Unfortunately, it had turned to hail, making the weather chillier.

  He gazed into the night sky, breathing in a lungful of clean air. The peak of the period was hitting them faster than they expected leaving little time for reflection on new life.

  He chuckled to himself, remembering how he'd had to break up a near fight between Taggart, the burly Irish man, and Diaz, the Spanish agriculture student, over coffee. Black looks abounded in good measure over coffee and they'd already run through Sam's supply.

  His thoughts went to Anthony during this time and Nevada's smile slipped.

  Anthony hadn't regained consciousness and it'd been over a week, closer to two.

  A sigh escaped Nevada.

  One thing gave him rest. Anthony was a Christian in every sense of the word. Even though Nevada didn't like the way the man most likely would meet his maker, he had hope of eternity.

  Where did that leave Amy? She hardly left her father's side these days. Nevada took her there in the evenings and brought her back in the mornings. Between that and the ranch work, his days were full.

  Nevada dropped his head in his hands and let the tranquil atmosphere wash over him.

  He glanced at his watch. Half hour since he last checked the animals.