Worth the Wait (Last Hope Ranch Book 2) Page 13

  “Accurate?” Dalton filled in the blank where she couldn’t seem to find the right words.

  Julie turned the knife over and over in her palm. Deep down, she had a feeling she knew the answer. “Pretty accurate, huh?”

  “It’s a gift passed every other generation on the maternal side. Rebecca’s mother was a seer. Rebecca has the gift, but it’s kept mostly to her dreams. Emilee seems to be able to hold an object and see things—in the past and the future. Honestly, I’m still trying to understand it myself. But I’m no longer a skeptic, I’ll give you that much.” There was a pause. “Why do you ask?”

  Julie hesitated. “She found a pocketknife in the backyard. It was Hank’s, given to him by his grandfather, and he’d given it to Kyle when he became a Scout.”

  “Was it a specific vision?” Dalton asked.

  “She said it was dark. Hard to tell since it’d been touched by more than one person.”

  “That could be a lot of things, Julie,” he said.

  “Sure, you’re right,” she said. “Okay. I’ve got to get in to see Kyle. I’m sure he’s exhausted and will want to get some rest. We’ll see you in a few hours. Please,” she begged, “drive safe.”

  “See you soon, Jules,” Clay said.

  “Tell Kyle I’m bringing our Nintendo Switch,” Kyle said. “Uncle Clay said we’d have to get permission from you and the doctor to play, though.”

  “I’ll let it be a surprise, then. How’s that?” Julie said. She smiled as she pocketed the knife. “Love you guys.”

  “Love you,” came a varied male chorus in return.

  Chapter Ten

  Hank had never seen anything so beautiful as the woman standing at the end of the aisle, preparing to walk between the rows of white chairs that had been set up on the spacious green lawn. He stood at the other end, under a gazebo festooned with grapevine and autumn flowers. The sky was a crystalline blue, the air crisp on this fresh autumn morning. His groomsmen stood to his left, the pastor to his right. His bride, dressed in a tea-length ivory gown, smiled at the two boys as they crooked their arms to escort her down the aisle.

  Several of their family and friends were there. Dabbing their eyes, smiling, taking pictures—everyone seemed jubilant on this special day. And he was the happiest groom that had ever lived.

  It was the happiest day of his life.

  All at once there was a loud rumble, a roar so loud that it drowned out the chaos and shouting. He stood watching the horrific scene unfold before him as an enormous black wave of water crashed over everyone, everything, sweeping them all into oblivion.

  He wanted to cry out, but his body was numb, his throat constricted.

  “We’ve got a pulse,” came a voice he didn’t recognize. The sense of floating turned into excruciating pain—pain that had him wanting to go back to the blissful state. Though he tried to breathe, it was as though an elephant sat on his chest. He tried to see, but he wasn’t able to open his eyes. They felt heavy, swollen, caked with something cool and wet—mud, perhaps, or… was that blood? He tried to lift his hand, but had no strength.

  “Get that stretcher over here,” the voice ordered.

  An image of darkness swallowing him whole slammed into Hank’s brain. He tried to wiggle his fingers to get their attention. There was so much noise. The thump-thump of a propeller from overhead, another voice barking out orders. It felt as though his brain had been placed in a blender and nothing made sense.

  “I’m here, buddy. I got you,” the voice said.

  Hank struggled to recognize it, but his mind saw only darkness.

  “We’re getting ready to send you and Jack to the hospital,” said a man’s voice close to Hank’s ear. His head buzzed. He wanted to sleep.

  “Hang in there, Hank,” the man said.

  He called me Hank. Why didn’t that sound familiar? Still, he did what he could, which was wiggle his fingers to acknowledge he’d heard him.

  Soon after, he felt his body being lifted onto a hard surface. Then, it seemed he was floating. A cool breeze brushed over his face and he felt a stinging sensation. The straps binding his arms rubbed against his torso, exacerbating the pain in his body as the stretcher twisted and turned in the breeze. He tried to remember what had happened. Where was he that he was being air-lifted to a helicopter? The basket jostled, and then it was pulled out of the wind. Something was jabbed into his arm, a mask was placed over his nose and mouth, and at last he succumbed again to the peace of darkness.

  ***

  Hank fought to look away from the sharp, bright light. It felt like a laser burning his pupil. On the upside, at least he could open his eyes now...or maybe someone helped him with that task. The light swung to the other eye. Equally as bright. Equally as painful.

  “Glad to see some fight in you,” a man said.

  The annoying light went away, replaced by the intense glow of the sun coming in through the window. He raised his hand to block the searing light and noticed the IV tube attached to the back of his hand. His tongue felt thick, his throat parched. A quick glance at his other arm brought the relief that at least it was still attached.

  “Let me close the blinds. That should help some.”

  The voice sounded familiar. Not unpleasant. He offered a grateful sigh as the light diminished and the room dimmed. From the shadows walked the woman who’d provided the relief. She stood by his bedside and smiled down at him.

  “I’m very happy to see you awake,” she said.

  She wasn’t the only one. He attempted a smile, but he was too tired. She was a lovely woman and very kind. He glanced around the room, deducing he was in a hospital, then looked back at her. She looked like no nurse he’d ever seen in her faded denim jeans, a soft blue T-shirt, and a comfy looking sweater that hung to her knees.

  “Are you thirsty?” she asked, then offered him a glass with a bendable straw. Her hands were delicate, her nails neatly trimmed and without polish.

  He leaned forward to grasp the straw with his lips and a sharp pain stabbed his ribcage, traveling with lightning speed until it exploded in his brain.

  He groaned and lay back on the pillows, wondering where he was and what freight train had hit him.

  “You broke three ribs,” the woman told him. “And you’ve already had one surgery to suture some pretty bad wounds on your leg and chest.” She seemed to be studying him. “The doctors say you are a very lucky man.” She reached for his hand and he flinched, pulling it away from her grasp.

  “Hey, there he is.”

  Catching only a glimpse of the hurt that flashed through her eyes, he turned toward the male voice, hoping this would be someone he knew. Two men walked in, burly-looking guys with broad shoulders. One wore a faded, standard-issue gray T-shirt with the word “Army” emblazoned across the chest, and the other a black T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a faded Cubs baseball cap. The biceps on these guys were impressive. He noticed one of them had a slight limp.

  The woman looked at the men. “Where’s Chris?”

  “With Kyle,” the gray-shirted man said, giving her a quick glance. “Safe and sound playing their game. Figured he wasn’t going anywhere.” He looked at Hank. “Thought we’d come up here and see how Trouble is doing.” He grinned and tapped the side of Hank’s leg…his good leg, thankfully.

  He watched as the man with the limp walked over and hugged the woman as though they knew each other very well, and then looked down at Hank. “You’ve actually looked a lot worse, you know.” He grinned. “You are one lucky guy.”

  Hank tried to place the man, but his mind kept drawing a blank. He tried to smile, but felt a tug on his flesh. Reaching up, he discovered a swathe of gauze over his cheek that hindered his ability to smile. Which was ironic. He wanted to laugh out loud and tell these people he had no clue who they were.

  ***

  “What’s happened to him?” Julie asked as she and Clay sat in the family lounge and visited with Hank’s doctor at Denver General. Dalton had gone bac
k to check on Chris and Kyle, maybe take Chris for a bite to eat in the cafeteria.

  “We believe it’s a temporary amnesia. Caused most likely by the trauma of the implosion of glass and the velocity of the crash itself on the head and neck. From the reports we’ve gotten, it sounds as though they had been able to slow the plane down—which is good—but they still hit that water pretty hard. Based on what I’ve been told, both men are very lucky to still be here.”

  “How long do you think he’ll be like this?” Julie asked.

  “That depends. It could be a few days, a month, maybe longer.” The doctor looked from Clay to Julie. “His brain needs time to heal. Along with his physical injuries, he’s suffered a tremendous trauma psychologically.”

  “Will we be able to take him home?” Julie asked. “Even if he still doesn’t remember everything after he’s released from the hospital?”

  She felt Clay take her hand and give it a squeeze.

  “The brain is still a mystery to modern science,” the doctor said. “I wish I could give you guarantees. But the truth is, we’ll just have to be patient and see.”

  ***

  Hank woke from another strange dream. He’d been flying in a lavender-hued sky, as ribbons of pink and purple on the horizon quickly turned into flames that licked the sides of the plane. The sound of the fire roared in his ears. He fought the controls, and then everything plunged into darkness.

  He squinted, focusing on the pretty blonde who’d entered his room. Today, she wore jeans with a pastel-yellow sweater that buttoned up over a camisole beneath. Two young boys followed in behind her.

  “Good morning, Hank. I brought you some visitors,” she said with a bright smile.

  He cleared his throat, but it still felt like a wad of cotton was stuck in his airways. “What day is it?”

  “It’s Thursday,” she said.

  Hank frowned. “How long have I been here?”

  She seemed to study him. “You’ve been here since a week ago Saturday.”

  He blinked, confused by the passage of time. He rubbed his forehead. “I suppose like Doc said, my memory will come back, eventually.”

  Her smile was kind. He’d gotten used to seeing her when he rolled out of his state of perpetual dozing. His head hurt less when he closed his eyes. Today was better, but he still didn’t recognize these people, even though he knew the woman’s name was Julie and her friends were Clay and Dalton.

  “Well,” she said, “these are my boys, Kyle and Chris.”

  “Hello, boys. Have we met?” he asked them. He caught the uncertain glances they gave their mom.

  “Uh, yeah,” said Chris, the younger boy. “You’ve been dating our mom for a while now. Did you forget?”

  Hank glanced at Julie. “It’s possible. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. Your mom seems like a really nice lady.”

  Chris’s expression crumpled into a curious frown.

  The older boy looked directly at him. “We came to say goodbye. I got released today and Uncle Clay is taking is back home.”

  Hank wished he knew where his home was. “So, you’ve been in the hospital, too?” he asked.

  The boy glanced at his mom, then looked at Hank. “They say you don’t remember some stuff. But I couldn’t leave without thanking you.”

  “Thanking me?” Hank asked.

  Kyle nodded. “Yeah, for coming to get me,” he said. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t called your friend Pete. I mean, if it wasn’t so scary, I’d say it was pretty awesome seeing all those choppers and rescue guys.” He offered Hank a shy grin. “Managed to get my first-aid badge and survival badge, though.”

  Pete? Rescue choppers? It all sounded vaguely familiar. Images of his dream, the orange glow surrounding him, flashed through his thoughts. He eyed the boy, fighting to remember.

  The boy then pulled out a small pocketknife and held it up with a grin. “Mom said Emilee found this in the yard. It must have fallen out while I was mowing. I promise I’ll be more careful with it from now on.”

  His gaze held on to the wood-and-pearl-handled knife. He recognized it as the one his grandfather had given him. “Hey, where’d you find my lucky pocketknife?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Julie said, her eyes suddenly alive. “Do you remember giving it to Kyle when he became a Boy Scout?”

  New images flashed through his mind, most of them a blur except for a ceremony of some sort—yes, a Scout ceremony. He remembered then the young boy’s face when he opened the box. “I gave it to Kyle.” He blinked, then looked at Julie. “Is this Kyle?”

  Julie nodded. Her beautiful blue eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  One by one, the locks keeping his memories imprisoned began to unlock—memories that had been just beyond his reach.

  Two men had entered the room, standing off to one side watching him, as they all were.

  Hank’s eyes darted from one person to another. There was Julie, his fiancée, Clay, his soon-to-be brother-in-law, and Dalton, his friend since college. He squeezed his eyes shut to allow the sudden rush of memory to settle in his brain.

  He opened his eyes then, and immediately recognized Kyle. He held out his hand. “Oh, Jesus, Kyle, are you okay, buddy?”

  The two boys split up, hurrying to either side of his bed.

  He took their hands. “I am really glad to see you guys.” Both draped their arms over him, and he winced as they hugged him.

  He looked at Julie, who stood silently with tears streaming down her face. She gave him a wobbly smile.

  He’d noticed Dalton duck out of the room.

  The boys stepped back to allow their mom to step forward. She leaned down and cupped his face gently. “Do you remember now?” she asked.

  He searched her tear-stained face. “I remember…I remember how much I love you.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. She buried her face in his shoulder, and he pressed his face into her hair. The familiar scent smelled like home.

  “Good to have you back, Hank,” Clay said, his grin wide.

  Dalton returned with a doctor and nurse in tow. He walked around to the other side of the bed and took Hank’s hand. “It’s great to see you back to your old self, man,” he said.

  Hank’s body hurt, but he was grateful to be alive. “What’s great is to have my brain functioning properly again,” he said with a grin.

  Hank frowned and looked at Clay. “Where’s my friend, Pete?” Hank realized suddenly he’d also had a co-pilot with him. “Jack? Where’s Jack? And my plane…we had to go down in the lake. Did they recover my plane?”

  “Okay, now, son. Let’s slow things down a bit, how about?” The doctor, who’d been checking his pulse, listened to his breathing, and then pulled out a small penlight.

  “I hate that thing,” Hank said as the doctor gestured for him to lay back on the pillow.

  “If you’d look to the right, please. Thank you. Now left. Good.” He stepped back and seemed to study Hank. “Can you tell me what year this is?”

  Hank thought a moment, then shrugged. “2018.”

  “Can you tell me where you live?” the doctor asked, writing all this down on a clipboard.

  Hank cleared his throat again. “Currently, I live in Chicago, but I hope to remedy that in the not-too-far future.” He glanced at Julie. “This is my fiancée, Julie. She and her boys live in End of the Line, Montana.”

  The doctor nodded with a smile. “Very good. It seems you are well on your way to getting back your full memory. Welcome back, Mr. Richardson.”

  “Oh, Doc. There was another man who came in when I did. My co-pilot, Jack? How is he?” Hank asked.

  “He’s going to be here a bit longer, but I feel confident that he’ll make a full recovery. I understand that he was the one who got you to shore after the crash.”

  “Champion swimmer in college, he told me,” Hank said. He still couldn’t remember the details of how Jack had gotten them both to the rocky
shore. But the first chance he got, he planned to find out. “When might I be able to see him?” he asked.

  The doctor raised his brows. “We’ll see how you’re doing in a few days. How about that?” He glanced at Julie. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

  Later that evening, Hank sat in the recliner for the first time since his arrival, glad to be upright, glad to be alive, and more than a little grateful to have his memory back.

  Julie walked in carrying a beautiful vase of flowers. She sat them on the wide window sill along with an array of plants from his parents, sister, and the Kinnsion families. “These are from Betty, Jerry, and everyone at the diner and bakery,” she said, perching on the edge of the bed. “Oh, and exciting news. Aimee’s in labor. Clay called to tell me. They’re about halfway back home and stopping with the boys for the night. They said to get better so you can come home.” She smiled and reached out to take his hand. “We’ve a lot to be thankful for, haven’t we?”

  He couldn’t agree more.

  “When I think that I might have lost both you and Kyle—” she started, then breathed deeply and tried to smile past another round of tears.

  “But you didn’t, baby. Come over here,” he said, tugging on her hand. He pulled her into his lap.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, not fully letting her weight rest on his legs.

  He brushed the hair from her face. “Jules, you’ve no idea how good I feel right now.” He searched her eyes. “God, I love you.” He touched her cheek.

  She pressed her lips into a thin line, then smiled. He could see she was fighting tears. “I love you so much.” She pressed a tender kiss on his lips. “Hank, I’ve been so blind, so scared, unable to believe that I could find a man like you.”

  He offered her a lopsided grin. There was a twinkle in his dark eyes. “And what kind of a man is that?” he asked.

  She brushed the hair from his forehead. “Kind and loving, smart and brave. A man who loves my boys as much as I do. A man who wants us to be a family—a real family.”

  “You might have forgotten devastatingly handsome.” He grinned.