Saving Alyssa (Mills & Boon Heartwarming) (17 page)

“Can you check for a pulse for me, sir?”

Dark smoke stung Noah's eyes and he squinted, looking for the source of it. He placed two fingers on Troy's throat and held his breath. A faint flutter. “Yeah, he's alive. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.” And then the choking smoke started a coughing jag.

“Sir? Stay with me, sir. Tell me what you see....”

“Smoke. A lot of it.” And then Noah saw tiny flickers of yellow and orange leaping up between the gnarled metal of the floorboard.

“I see the fire now. It's rolling under the front seat...down the sides.... If I don't get him out of there—”

“No. Sir. Do
not
touch him, do you understand? Wait for the EMTs. They're in transi—”

“Wait? No way. I know this man!”

The wind kicked up, blowing a blast of hot air that hit him square in the face. Stinging sparks pecked his skin. He'd heard the warnings and understood the dispatcher's no-nonsense order: let the pros handle the rescue; amateurs do more harm than good.

Well, the pros weren't here.
He
was.

Sirens. Finally! But a long way off. By the time the ambulances, cop cars and fire trucks made their way through the snarl of vehicles, Troy could be dead. How would Noah live with himself if he stood here like some simpering idiot and let that happen? He had to get Troy out of there, because every instinct told him the car would explode. Soon.

“I'm going to put my phone into my pocket,” he said, “but I'll leave it on.”

Ignoring the dispatcher's protests, he grabbed the door handle, drawing his arm back when it burned his palm. He looked for the source of the heat, and seeing none, decided it wasn't as important as getting Billie's brother out of there.

Noah didn't even want to think about how losing Troy would impact Billie, and their mother, who so lovingly fussed over her kids. He thought of his own little girl, who'd already lost her mother. What would become of her if, while helping Troy, something happened to him?

Noah shook off the ugly, terrifying thought and focused instead on what could go wrong if he disobeyed the operator's order. He could unintentionally snap Troy's neck while pulling him free. Dislocate a shoulder. Break an arm or a leg. Windy as it was, the fire might double or triple in intensity, and kill them both.

Then he saw the flames licking at Troy's pant legs. It was now or never.

Noah filled both hands with Troy's shirt and pulled. Pulled with all his might as the image of Alyssa flared in his mind.
She doesn't have a mom,
he reminded himself.
Are you willing to take the chance she'll lose you, too?

For an instant, he froze. Considered letting go. He'd made a will. Named Max legal guardian if—

Troy uttered a ragged whimper as his head lolled from left to right. Noah had no way of knowing what sort of damage the impact had caused. Broken ribs, sternum, pelvis...
spine
... Based on the condition of Troy's car, from the spiderweb-shattered windshield to the concave dashboard, it was likely his friend had suffered a head injury, too.

In one second, Noah heard the car's metal groaning like a wounded bear. In the next, a deafening explosion blinded him. Threw him backward. The hard landing forced the breath from his lungs. He couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. And the pain...the pain was so extreme that he couldn't think straight.

Noah had never been much of a praying man. But he prayed now...that when Billie came to terms with losing her brother, she'd help Max take care of Alyssa.

Sorry, cupcake,
he thought as tears stung a cut on his cheek.
I'm so, so sorry
....

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

S
OMETHING
 
WAS
 
WRONG
. Troy and Noah should have arrived more than an hour ago, and neither had called to explain where they were.

She hadn't told Alyssa her dad was bringing pizza, so she wasn't disappointed when Billie served up the fish sticks and mac and cheese she'd found in Noah's kitchen.

“Aren't you eating, Billie?”

She forced a brightness into her voice that she didn't feel. “I snacked a little, fixing your supper,” she fibbed. “Maybe I'll grab something later.”

“After Daddy and Troy get back?”

“That's right.”

“They must be buying everything in the whole entire store.” The little girl dipped a fish stick into the puddle of ketchup on her plate. “Bet he'll be in a bad mood when he gets home. Daddy
hates
shopping.”

“I'm not crazy about it, either.” Why didn't one of them
call?

Noah's house phone rang, startling her.

“Billie, this is Max. I'm a, uh, a friend of Noah's.”

“Yes. I remember.”

“Where's Alyssa?”

“Right here. Eating supper.” Billie frowned, wondering what business it was of hers.

“Take the phone into the other room. I don't want her to see your face when I tell you why I called.”

The woman's take-charge voice riled Billie and rattled her at the same time. Yet, like an obedient child, she followed instructions.

“There's been an accident,” Max said, “and it's bad.”

A tremor passed through Billie, from the soles of her feet to her scalp. She sat on the arm of the sofa.

“How bad?”

“Your brother and Noah were medevaced to Cowley.”

The R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma Center at the University of Maryland's medical facility?

“But...but they drove separately to the mall....”

“I don't have all the details yet. Multicar pileup on Route 100. Tractor trailer jackknifed and started a chain reaction. No word yet why, but they're blaming the weather. In your shoes, I'd be wondering why they called me.”

Maybe later, Billie thought, when the news sank in. At the moment, it was all she could do to accept the facts as she knew them.

“They called me,” Max continued, “because I'm the closest thing to family Noah has. He keeps my contact info in his wallet. The cop I talked to said he kept muttering something about Troy, so I put two and two together and came up with
you.
”

The phone trembled in Billie's hand. “Will they be okay?”

“I've made a few calls, but it'll be a while before the first responders file reports. Soon as I hear back from my contact at the shock trauma center, you'll be the first person I call.”

Max paused, and Billie heard the steady click-click-click
 
of a turn signal.

“You're phoning from the road? Are you on your way down there?”

“No, I'm on my way to you. I'm going to stay with Alyssa while
you
go down there.” There was another pause before she said, “Noah keeps instructions in his wallet, so the docs don't need next of kin signatures. But your brother—”

“You mean...you mean they think Troy and Noah might...” Billie couldn't say it. Wouldn't say it!

“It's too early to know anything yet, except that they're both critical. Now listen, Billie. You need to pull yourself together. You've spent enough time around Alyssa to know she's supersensitive to people's moods. Walk back into that kitchen sounding like you do now, and nothing you say will be a comfort. No point scaring her until we know what's what.”

“Good advice. She's already been through so much.”

“Exactly. I'm parking out back right now. I know where Noah hides the key, so head straight for the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face.”

Max hung up, and Billie's brain went into overdrive. She'd need to find her GPS if she hoped to locate the hospital without getting lost. And break into her emergency stash of cash for the parking garage. Grab a handful of change for the vending machines, because she intended to stay until she had definitive news for her parents. For Alyssa, too.

Billie reentered the kitchen, resolved to behave as if the little girl's world—and her own—wasn't spinning out of control.

“Was that Daddy on the phone?”

“No,” she said on her way to the bathroom, making sure Alyssa couldn't see her face, “it was Max, calling to see if it was okay to stop by.”

Billie heard Alyssa's exuberant “Cool!” through the bathroom door.

No need to splash water on her face, because she hadn't cried.

Yet.

But Max was right—she did need to gather her wits, not only for Alyssa, but for Troy and Noah, too. The last thing they needed was to see fear in her eyes. Besides, unless she wanted to end up in there with them, she'd need to focus on maneuvering the icy roads safely.

She sat on the edge of the tub and looked at the pale blue walls, lavender towels, pink contour rug and colorful butterfly-infused shower curtain. The apartment offered all the comforts in a compact nine-hundred-square-foot space. Noah had let Alyssa decorate their only bathroom. He was a good man. A good
dad.
He had to be all right...for Alyssa's sake.

Tears stung Billie's eyes and a sob ached in her throat. He had to be all right for her sake, too. Why had it taken
this
to make her admit how much he meant to her?

On her feet now, she returned to the kitchen to find Max with Alyssa.

“Where are you going?” Alyssa asked when Billie slipped into her coat.

“I...well...a friend of mine is in the hospital, so I'm going to pay him a quick visit.”

Max nodded, as if to say, “Good answer.”

“I cleared my schedule,” she stated calmly, “so I can stay with Alyssa until...”

Billie understood why Max had stopped talking so suddenly. She couldn't very well say “until Noah gets home” because not even the doctors knew when—or if—that might happen. And because Billie didn't trust herself to speak, she grabbed her purse and waved a silent goodbye.

The drive from Ellicott City to the shock trauma center wasn't nearly as treacherous as she'd expected, yet when Billie arrived, her hands were shaking and she had the hiccups. The guard at the E.R. entrance walked her to the information desk, and before he left her there, said, “Nobody comes in here for fun. Just remember that and you'll calm right down.”

Not likely, Billie thought, but she thanked him and punched the elevator button.

“If those hiccups don't go away in a few minutes, try my technique. Swallow ten itty-bitty sips of water, one at a time, while holding your breath. Trust me,” he added as the doors whooshed shut, “works every time.”

When she arrived in the surgical unit, a nurse explained that Troy was in surgery, and that, based on what little she knew so far, the team would perform a craniectomy to relieve pressure on his brain.

“Don't quote me on this, because I'm not supposed to speculate,” the woman said, “but I'm guessing they'll do a laparotomy, too, to relieve pressure on his abdomen.”

“And what about Mr. Preston. I was told he was brought in with my brother.”

“How are you related to Mr. Preston?”

“He's...he's....” Billie's hands trembled as she twisted her wedding band.

Nodding, the nurse picked up the phone, asked a few questions about Noah, and after hanging up, said, “I'm due for a break. I'll walk you down there.” At the elevators, she added, “Ever been to Multitrauma before?”

“I've never even heard of it.”

“Well, just to warn you...your fiancé might look a little rough, so brace yourself.”

Evidently, the woman had assumed that because Billie asked about Noah Preston, instead of her husband, Noah was her fiancé. And because rules were rules, she didn't correct her. For the first time since the divorce, Billie was glad she'd never found the courage to remove her wedding ring. When Troy and Noah were home and on the mend, she intended to throw it into the Patapsco River. The nurse pointed. “He's just around the corner.”

Billie held her breath, footsteps slowing as she summoned the strength to deal with whatever came next.

“Want me to stay with you?”

She shook her head. “No, but thanks. Go ahead and finish your break.”

The nurse hadn't exaggerated. If not for those perfectly shaped eyebrows and enviable lashes, Billie might not have recognized him.

“I'll just stay long enough to explain what's going on.” The nurse grabbed Noah's chart, slid a finger down the first page and shook her head. “Hmm...looks like he was hit by a lot of flying debris when the car exploded.”

Exploded! Billie cringed, but did her best not to show fear.

“There was a lot of blood in his abdominal cavity. Lost more than three liters during transport. Lucky for him, he's type O, and it isn't a holiday weekend.”

In other words, they'd transfused him.

“He's doing as well as can be expected. If he survives the golden hour, his chances are good. Real good.”

“The golden hour?”

“Blocks of time lost at the scene, during transport, in surgery, time in recovery, building up his reserves again, avoiding infection.”

How many times had the nurse been pressed to deliver that explanation? Billie wondered. Too many, if her quiet monotone was any indicator.

Billie couldn't take her eyes off Noah. The breathing machine. The heart monitor. The tubes and lines and clear bags hanging from stainless poles. “How did they do all this in the short time between the accident and now?”

“9-1-1 call came in at four. Six hours isn't a short time in a place like this. Besides, like I said...it isn't a holiday weekend. Plenty of staff available.” She headed for the door. “A word of advice?”

Billie met her eyes and nodded.

“Think positive thoughts when you're talking to him. I happen to be one of those who believe people in his condition can hear and understand what's going on.”

“Is that true for Troy, too?”

“Way too early to tell,” she said. “After your brother is out of recovery, we'll know a lot more. Meanwhile, if you believe in prayer, this might be a good time for it.”

* * *

A
S
 
THE
 
DAYS
passed, it got harder to sidestep Alyssa's pressing questions about her dad. One night, long after Billie had tucked Alyssa in, she nodded off on the couch. Fractured dreams kept waking her, born, she supposed, of what her imagination made of the information delivered by the first responders. After half an hour of channel surfing, she dozed off again. And again the nightmare images pummeled her brain: an ear-splitting crash. Glass raining onto the pavement like blue diamonds. Fire and black, billowing smoke. And a blast that shook the ground until—

“Billie,” Alyssa whispered. “Billie, wake up.”

She opened one eye and looked at the wall clock. Two thirty-five. “Hey, sweetie. What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I couldn't sleep.”

Billie opened her arms, and Alyssa went willingly into them.

“I want my daddy. When can I go to the hospital and see him?”

When he doesn't look like a cross between the Mummy and the Incredible Hulk,
she thought. But that kind of sarcasm would offer no comfort to this frightened, lonely little girl. Trouble was, Billie had no idea how to tell her that her daddy was still unconscious, still breathing with the aid of a machine, still being nourished by an IV drip.

But she had to try.

“Remember that movie we watched a little while ago,
While You Were Sleeping?
”

Alyssa nodded.

“And you remember how Peter got hurt, and ended up in a coma in the hospital?”

Alyssa's eyes filled with tears as she nodded again.

“It's okay, sweetie. The coma is helping your daddy rest, so his body can heal from the accident.” Billie gave her a sideways hug. “Things turned out pretty well for Lucy and Peter, didn't they?”

Rubbing her eyes, Alyssa nodded yet again. “So Daddy looks like Peter? Like he's sleeping?”

Billie rested her chin amid soft blond curls. The staff did their best, keeping patients clean, preventing bedsores, but, unlike patients in the movies, there wasn't a blessed thing they could do about whiskers and matted hair, or skin so pale it almost blended with the bed linens. If he were clean-shaven, hair combed, it might be safe to let her see him. But those often-open, staring eyes sometimes gave
her
the willies. How much more difficult would it be for his innocent, seven-year-old daughter to see him that way?

“I'm not a baby,” she said, brow furrowed. “I know he got in a crash. I heard you and your mom talking....” Alyssa turned, gazed straight into Billie's eyes. “I heard you say you don't know how to prepare me for how he looks. Why don't you just
tell
me?”

Billie didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she gathered Alyssa close and said, “Are you sure you're only seven years old? Because you sure don't sound seven, and you
absolutely
don't act it!”

She felt the child inhale a shaky breath and release it.

“Does that mean you'll take me to see him?”

“How about this. I'll talk to his doctors, and Max, and see what they think.”

“And if they say yes?”

“I'll take you to see him.”

“Promise?”

Billie's right hand formed the Scout's salute. “Promise.”

Another deep sigh...much too deep and sad for one so young.