Turbulence (20 page)

“Although what?”

He turned the key in the ignition and peeled out of the school parking lot. “There is a place where he might go. It’s isolated, and no one would think of looking for him there. The Cameron house.”

“Where is it?”

“About three miles out of town. The couple who lived
there went to a nursing home in Corpus Christi several years ago and it’s been vacant ever since.”

Dana sat silently as he drove the short distance. As they neared the old two-story farmhouse, it was obvious the intervening years had not been kind. The roof was in desperate need of repair, although whether most of the damage could be laid at Hurricane Damon’s feet was difficult to say. Windows were cracked, some were boarded up, and others were gaping holes. The porch steps sagged in several places.

As Micky turned down the gravel road on the east side of the house, she could see a tree leaning against the building and a jagged trough in the ground where its roots were exposed.

He parked near the front door. “Be careful,” he warned her as they gingerly walked up the porch steps. “Who knows what sort of shape the structure is in.”

“I should have brought my helmet,” she said as he pushed on the door. It squealed as it opened.

“Sam?” he called out. “Are you in here?”

The wind whistling through the broken windows was the only sound. Dana had never imagined such an eerie sight. Furniture stood as if waiting for the owners to come home. Cushions were ripped, and mouse droppings littered every available surface. A bird had nested in the chandelier overhead. Dust covered everything and the curtains were rotting on the rods.

“It’s a shame no one has taken care of this,” she said. “It’s a great old house.”

“It was,” he corrected as he scanned the ceiling. “It needed work before, but now it needs a bulldozer.” He raised his voice. “Sam?”

Dana thought she heard something upstairs, so she walked past him to stand near the staircase. “Sam?” she called.

The sound came again. She started up the steps, then stopped. “Look, Micky.”

He joined her. “What is it?”

She pointed to the imprints left by a sneaker. “Someone went upstairs recently.”

She headed farther up the staircase, but six steps later, the wood cracked and splintered under her boot.

Micky grabbed her arm to keep her from falling until she regained her balance on the step above. “Be careful,” he told her.

“I was.”

“I’ll go first,” he said. “If the wood will support me, it will support you.”

Dana shook off his hold. “I appreciate the chivalry, but this is my job. I’m trained for situations like this and you aren’t. Besides, there’s no point in both of us going upstairs. Sam may have been here, but it doesn’t mean he still is.”

“Too bad, because I’m sticking beside you,” he said firmly. “We’re partners, remember?”

Knowing that she couldn’t talk him into staying below, she continued upward, testing each board before she placed her full weight on it. Finally they reached the upper level.

“Is it me, or does it seem like the breeze is stronger up here?” she asked.

He pointed. “There’s a hole in the roof.”

By unspoken agreement, they split up to go in separate directions. “Sam?” Micky called.

“In here,” came a weak reply.

M
ICKY HURRIED
into a room at the back if the house and saw a scene that churned his stomach.

The flagstone fireplace in what appeared to be the master bedroom had crumbled. A large slab had fallen across Sam’s thigh and pinned him to the floor.

Micky mumbled a curse before he knelt beside the boy,
hoping,
praying
that the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared. “Hey, there, sport,” he said. “How’re you doing?”

“Pretty good now that you came.” Tears ran down Sam’s dust-streaked face and Micky wanted to shed a few of his own.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked gruffly.

“My leg. I can’t move it.”

Dana came up behind Micky, and he was grateful for her reassuring presence. The smile she bestowed on Sam made him feel better, too. “Things don’t look too bad,” she assured them. “We’ll have you out of here before long.”

“I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. The rock was too heavy.”

Micky could easily see why. The chunk that had fallen on Sam must weigh at least eighty pounds. “No problem,” he said cheerfully. “As soon as Dana gives me the go-ahead, I’ll move it.”

“I’ll get my kit,” she said. “Don’t do anything until I get back.” Before he could caution her to watch her step on the way down, she disappeared.

Sam grabbed Micky’s hand. “You won’t leave me, will you?”

Micky shook his head. “I’ll be with you all the way,” he promised. “What happened?”

Sam wiped his nose with the back of his free hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt anything, honest, but I like to come here to be by myself. The fireplace has been crumbling for a while, so I knew not to touch it, but I tripped and bumped against the side. The rocks fell on me and I couldn’t get up. I didn’t tell anyone where I went, so I was afraid no one would come until it was too late.” His voice wavered. “It hurts really bad, Micky.”

Something tore in Micky’s chest. “I know, buddy. Dana will give you something for that just as soon as she comes back.”

Sam covered his eyes with his elbow, as if he didn’t want his hero to see him cry. “Okay,” he said in a muffled tone.

“There were a lot of folks looking for you.” Micky hated to imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t thought of this abandoned farmhouse—if Dana hadn’t suggested that Sam had gone somewhere private to lick his wounds.

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say that. People will be glad to know you’re safe and sound. Your mom included.”

“No, she won’t,” Sam said dully. “She doesn’t want me.”

Dana returned at that moment and Micky turned a helpless gaze at her. She raised one eyebrow as if to tell him that he was on his own.

“Sure she does.”

Sam shook his head while Dana began working on him. “She’s sending me to stay with her aunt.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

“Mom’s always hated Aunt Sybil. She told me how mean she was to her when she was a kid. What makes her think she’ll be nicer to me?”

Micky was at a loss. Crystal didn’t deserve his defense, but what choice did he have? “People change.”

“I won’t live at her house.” Sam’s young face set in a mulish expression. “I won’t. And I don’t want to go to Nashville. It’ll be like all the other times. Her big career won’t work out and we’ll be back where we always are. Starting over.”

What could Micky say? The boy knew his mother far better than anyone.

“I had an idea while I was lying here,” Sam continued, his voice hopeful.

“What was that?”

“If I talk my mom into it, could I move in with you?”

With him?
Micky was stunned into silence.

“I wouldn’t be any trouble, I promise,” Sam continued. “I can cook and clean and do laundry. I’m hardly ever sick, so you wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of me.”

Micky’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know….”

“Really. I could talk Mom into it. I know I could.” Sam sounded desperate. “If you agree, that is.”

Micky glanced at Dana, but she’d simply raised one eyebrow as if curious to hear his answer. No help from that quarter.

“I’m not sure that’s a good plan,” Micky said. “You know I’m rarely at home. You can’t spend hours by yourself.”

“When I’m not at school, I can be with you at the airport. I can answer the phone, sweep the floors, do whatever chore you have. Please?” he begged. “Say yes.”

Dana frowned at Sam’s blood pressure reading. “Keep him calm,” she mouthed.

Keep him calm.
The only way Micky could do that was to say what Sam wanted to hear. But he wasn’t about to make a promise he couldn’t keep.

“Let’s talk about it later,” he hedged. “Right now, we have to concentrate on getting you out in one piece.”

Apparently satisfied with Micky’s answer, Sam relaxed. “Okay. Until later.”

Dana spoke softly. “He seems stable, and I can’t quite tell what’s happened with his foot until we raise the rock slab. Before we do, though, I want to give him something for the pain and call an ambulance. Sam’ll need to go to the hospital and see an orthopedic surgeon.”

Micky placed the call while Dana started an IV, explaining everything to Sam in terms he could understand.

Ruth promised to send an ambulance and patrol car, then Micky called the hospital in Alice, and a doctor in emergency gave Dana the authorization she needed to administer medi
cation to Sam. Once those details were squared away, Micky closed the phone. “More help is on the way,” he told Sam.

“Mom, too?”

“I think so.”

Dana injected the pain meds into Sam’s IV, and while they waited for the drug to take effect, she determined the best way to lift the slab without causing more problems than they already had.

On Dana’s count of three, they hoisted the slab and set it aside. As he held Sam’s hand, Micky watched Dana splint Sam’s foot and ankle, and check his vital signs and distal pulse.

“All done,” she said, beaming at the boy as she patted his shoulder. “You’re ready to go, wrapped up nice and neat just like a package.”

Sam chuckled. “I feel pretty good right now. Maybe nothing’s broken after all.”

“Sorry, Sam,” Dana said. “I wouldn’t count on that if I were you. But broken bones heal, and I’m sure you’ll be racing around town on your bike before no time.”

The sound of an ambulance siren grew louder, then stopped. “Your ride is here,” Micky quipped.

Moments later, the group carefully carried Sam downstairs on a stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance for the drive to the hospital in Alice.

Micky handed his truck keys to Adam Brown, the volunteer fireman who’d driven the ambulance. Micky would take Adam’s place while Dana rode in the back with Sam. Crystal, to her dismay, and probably the deputy’s as well, was relegated to the county patrol car.

Micky knew it was only a reprieve. As soon as Sam could talk to his mother about his latest idea, he would. The question was, what could Micky do? He knew he wasn’t in a po
sition to care for a child, even one as independent as Sam, but he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the disappointment on the boy’s face.

What could he do?

What
should
he do?

The trip to Alice was uneventful, although Micky’s inner turmoil raged on. After passing Sam into the E.R. staff’s capable hands, Dana insisted on stopping for a cup of coffee while a nurse replenished the medical supplies Dana had used in Sam’s pre-hospital care.

Dana wordlessly sipped the strong brew as if waiting for Micky to start the conversation. Finally he couldn’t stand the silence.

“All right,” he said crossly. “Just go ahead and say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say what you’re thinking.”

“Who said I was thinking?”

“Any woman who isn’t talking is thinking.”

She chuckled, clearly not taking offense. “What a flattering remark. But since you brought it up, what
are
you going to do about Sam?”

“The only thing I can do.”

She peered intently at him over her raised cup. “Which is?”

“What’s best for the both of us.”

“A
ND WHAT
IS
BEST
for the both of you?” Dana asked cautiously. In her gut, she sensed that his answer would signal what she could expect in their own relationship. If Micky was willing to assume responsibility for a boy who clearly held a special place in his heart, then maybe, just maybe, it was possible that he wouldn’t be so quick to discard a chance for the two of them, either. Yes, they’d have logistics to work out—commuting wasn’t an option for either of them—but if the desire was there, the practicalities would follow.

“Letting him move in with you?” she pressed.

“Of course not.” He sounded aghast at the idea.

Her hopes plummeted, although she pretended that his decision didn’t matter one way or another.

“I see.” She blew on her already cool coffee for something to do.

He studied her. “You don’t approve.”

“It isn’t my place to approve or disapprove. This is your choice. You have to live with your decision. I don’t.”

She was wrong, of course. With this strong need she had for him and a connection she hadn’t felt with anyone else, his decision would influence their future, as well.

Dana sighed. Coming to Turning Point was supposed to help her decide what she wanted and where to find it. Now she’d go back feeling worse and more at loose ends than when she’d left.

Was this what Alex and Lauren had felt for each other in the beginning, before those feelings had developed into a full-fledged love?

Unfortunately she’d never know.

She honestly hadn’t expected to fall for Micky so quickly, but in hindsight, she wouldn’t have gone to his bed so eagerly if some subconscious part of her hadn’t recognized that there was something worth nurturing between them.

The problem was, all she could do was hug this information to herself. She wouldn’t delude herself by imagining that Micky would change his decision if he knew how she felt.

“But you think I’m making the wrong one.”

“It isn’t my place to say,” she said, pleased that her voice sounded steady when inside she was quaking with disappointment.

He leaned across the table. “Don’t give me that flimsy excuse. You have an opinion.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t care to share it.”

His gaze grew intent. “You think I’m making a big mistake.”

She sipped her coffee. “You said it, I didn’t. But if the shoe fits…”

“How can you say it’s a mistake?” he growled. “You know my situation. How am I going to look after an eleven-year-old boy and stay on top of my business?”

“How does anyone juggle a job with a personal life? But you’re right. Some people can do both and others can’t. You’ve obviously decided you fit in the latter category.”

His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t like being told that he
couldn’t
do something. “So you agree that I can’t do this.”

“It isn’t a case of ‘can’t.’ It’s more a matter of establishing your priorities. Raising a child, even if he’s half-grown, is a big responsibility, and I recognize that. It would require
a massive adjustment on your part. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do if I was in your position.”

Actually, she did know. She would take Sam without hesitation. But she’d reached a different stage in her life than Micky had.

“But you do agree with me.” He sounded as if he needed her approval.

She didn’t answer. “You said you were going to do what’s best for the both of you. So far, I’ve only heard what’s best for you.”

“I’m away from home for at least sixteen hours a day. Sam would spend all of his time at a sitter’s.”

“That is a problem,” she agreed.

“I’d have to cut back to twelve-or ten-hour days.”

“You might.”

“My business would suffer. Success doesn’t happen overnight or by chance.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed. “You have to weigh the rewards of financial gain against those of being a role model and mentor.”

“It’s more than the money.”

“Then what
is
it about?”

“I can’t be there for him.” He fell silent as he tore the edge of his cup in precise sections.

She wanted to remind him that Crystal didn’t know where Sam was ninety percent of the time and obviously didn’t care. Dana also had her doubts about Sam faring any better with his great-aunt. Those were things that Micky had to consider and sort through on his own.

“We’d both sacrifice a lot,” he said. “Living out of a hangar isn’t a life for a young boy.”

“No, it isn’t.” Allowing him to think of the pros and cons for himself seemed the best way to guide him toward a deci
sion. Whatever he decided, she wanted him to make the decision based on logic rather than personal insecurities.

“Being his guardian wouldn’t be easy. Worrying if he’s sick or doing well in school, or making sure he eats what he should.”

She nodded solemnly. “Parenthood isn’t a picnic.”

“I just don’t think I can make it work.”

“Sam has faith in you.”

“Well, he shouldn’t,” Micky answered crossly. “A boy belongs with his mother, even if she’s not the greatest in the world. I just can’t be responsible. He isn’t even family.”

“Then, if Sam were Courtney’s son, you wouldn’t hesitate?”

“I wouldn’t have a choice. She’s my sister.”

“But you’d make it work if Sam
was
your nephew,” she persisted. “Wouldn’t you?”

He answered with a shrug that could have meant anything.

“Remember this,” she warned. “Emotional ties can be stronger than blood ties. You and Sam are already closer than some parents are to their own children.” She leaned closer. “Don’t you see? However it happened, you already have a relationship with him, a quasifamily bond, and if you walk away from him now, not only will you break his heart, but you’ll have a hole in yours. Oh, you’ll fill it with something like flying more hours and working harder, but it won’t be enough.”

She knew because she’d done it. She’d filled the void that Alex had created with work and off-duty activities, but the empty spot had remained.

Micky, too, had filled the vacuum in his life with his career and an occasional romantic encounter, but he hadn’t yet come to the same realization that she had. Only
someone
not
something
was the answer.

“Even if I wanted a family—which I don’t—nothing says that Crystal would agree to Sam’s suggestion,” he pointed out.

That truth shredded her—and Sam’s—last hope into confetti. She sat back and drained the last of her coffee. “You’re right. All of this may be hypothetical, in which case your conscience will be off the hook. And if that is Crystal’s decision, then never,
ever
let Sam know that the man he thinks capable of walking on water rejected him.”

Aware their conversation wasn’t going anywhere, she rose. “Shall we see how he’s doing before we leave?”

“Yeah.”

Back in the E.R., a sleepy Sam was being prepped for surgery. “They’re putting a plate in his ankle and pinning the bones together,” Crystal told them as they stood in the doorway. “He’ll have to stay off his foot for a few weeks until it heals, but he’ll be fine.”

“Then you won’t move to Nashville right now?” Dana asked.

Crystal stared at her, clearly aghast at Dana’s assumption. “Of course I will. I’ve worked out everything. When he’s ready to go home, my aunt will take him to Fayetteville. It’s for the best,” she said defensively. “Until I get established.”

Somehow, Dana doubted that would ever happen, but perhaps Crystal would surprise them all. She glanced at Micky, hoping he would ask Crystal if Sam had mentioned an alternative to her plans, but he was remarkably tight-lipped.

“You’ll keep me posted?” he asked instead.

Crystal nodded. “They’ll discharge him on Sunday.”

Micky thanked her for the information, then shepherded Dana outside to the ambulance.

“At least he’ll have a few weeks to adjust to his new surroundings before the fall term begins,” Dana said. “I hear it’s rough to switch schools after classes have started.”

He nodded, although whether he agreed or was simply acknowledging her comment, she couldn’t tell.

After they’d taken Sam inside, Micky had moved the ambulance to the parking lot. Rather than crawling in the back as before, she strapped herself into the passenger seat and stared into the twilight.

“People are going to ask me what Texas is like when I get home,” she said, choosing to talk rather than brood over a situation she couldn’t control. “I’ll have to confess that I don’t know. It’s been either too rainy or too dark to see any sights.”

“What you saw when we flew home yesterday is basically what this county has to offer—flat farm land and hilly ranches. Plenty of wide open spaces.”

“And ponds,” she added, remembering the snake.

He grinned. “Yeah, but you have one big one in your back yard, too.”

She laughed at his reference to the bay for which her hometown was named. “A
very
big one,” she agreed. “We have the best beach in the world.”

“Well, now,” he drawled. “You haven’t seen ours.”

“No, I haven’t.” And she probably wouldn’t, but she didn’t mention the obvious. “We also have a remarkable story to go along with our beach. Want to hear it?”

“Might as well. It’s a long trip back.”

“Back in 1848, during the Mexican War,” she summarized, “a terrible storm blew an American war ship off course and it floundered in waters off the California coast. When the ship started to sink, Indians from the local tribe risked their lives to rescue the sailors. In honor of their bravery, the survivors named the settlement
Courage Bay.
Our emergency teams have carried on the tradition of helping others out of concern rather than a desire for glory. I can’t think of a single person in our department who isn’t committed one hundred percent to our mission.”

She twisted slightly to face him. “With a name like Turning Point, I’m sure your town has a story, too.”

“It’s not as dramatic as yours,” he warned.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m all ears.”

“Okay, here goes. According to local historians, a wagon train of pioneer folk with all sorts of European backgrounds was headed west along the coast. The settlers didn’t have a common language, but the wagon master knew enough to make himself understand.

“But the wagon master was killed. Those who were left behind knew that they had to somehow put aside their cultural differences and work together or none of them would survive. They did.”

“And they stayed?”

He grinned. “Yeah, they stayed. Apparently they decided the land around here was what they were looking for. They formed a town and called it Turning Point.”

“Ah,” she said, making the connection. “Because it was the place where they’d turned toward each other.” She also wondered when, or if, Micky might experience a personal epiphany similar to that of his ancestors.

For a while they traveled in comfortable silence along the dark highway. As they turned onto the road that led to Turning Point, a dome of light appeared in the sky.

“Looks like power’s been restored,” Dana said.

“Part of it, at least,” Micky commented. “The southern, residential end is still dark, but I’d bet the electricity will be on all over town within the next twenty-four hours.”

“Looks like I’ll be leaving soon.”

He glanced at her. “I can’t talk you into staying longer?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “How long?”

He shrugged. “A week or two.”

She hadn’t truly expected him to profess undying love or
beg her to stay forever, but she had hoped that she meant more to him than a mere fling.

“I don’t have that much vacation leave,” she said.

“Then stay indefinitely. There are plenty of jobs around the area.”

“A person needs more of an incentive to move halfway across the country.”
Here’s your chance, Micky,
she thought.

“What about your sense of adventure, Ms. I-want-to-see-what’s-on-the-other-side-of-the-fence?”

They passed the sign welcoming them to Turning Point. “I can find plenty of excitement in Courage Bay. I’m a fireman, remember? Adventure is part of my job.”

“I’d like you to stay,” he said. “There are so many things we haven’t done.”

She remembered all his promises of “next time.” Another motorcycle ride. Another trip to his hideaway. As much as she would enjoy those things, they were simply activities to occupy an afternoon, an evening, a weekend.

“You expect me to be handy when you decide you can spare an hour or two from flying, don’t you? I’ll be just another Barbie doll, standing on the shelf until you’re ready to play.”

He had the grace to look a little sheepish. “It wouldn’t be that way.”

There seemed little point in holding back. “How can you ask me such a question?” she asked, incredulous. “You just said you work until nine or ten at night. When were you planning on
us
getting together? One night a week? Once or twice a month?”

“Of course not,” he snapped as he pulled into the parking lot of the fire station and shut off his headlights. “I’d see you more often.”

“But if it came down to a last-minute flight or an evening with me, I shouldn’t expect you to decide in my favor.”

He opened his mouth to object, then stopped. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “It might. Or it might not. I can’t promise anything.”

She wanted to be angry, but she simply couldn’t fault a man for knowing—and admitting—his limitations. “Thanks for being honest, but that isn’t the sort of relationship I’m looking for.”

He started to speak, but she forestalled him. “Before you accuse me of being like the other women you’ve known, including Jillian, don’t. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m completely different.

“You see, I don’t care what kind of job you might have. You’re trained to fly, so fly. Be an astronaut or a test pilot, for all I care. Do whatever makes you happy. I won’t stand in your way or try to ground you.

“But don’t expect me to be one of your groupies, either, satisfied with your attention whenever you deign to give it. I won’t wait for a call that comes only when you decide you’re ready for more company than what you get from a hunk of metal.