Dangerous Lies (26 page)

In the meantime, all we could do was wait.

*  *  *

I’d fallen asleep in the waiting room. When I woke, morning sunlight streamed through the windows. My head rested on Chet’s shoulder. He was paging through a copy of
Sports Illustrated
, but turned his attention to me when he felt me stir.

“The doctor came out while you were sleeping.”

I sat up straighter. “You didn’t wake me?”

“She just wanted to tell us that the procedure went well. They moved Carmina to a special care unit. She has to stay there for a few more hours to recover. You should be able to see her soon. The doc—I think she said her name’s Dr. Zielke—will come get us as soon as they’ve moved Carmina to a private room. Stella . . .” He waited until I met his eyes. “You saved her life. You found her before it was too late.”

My stomach started to churn with nervous relief. She was okay. They’d let her go home soon. I’d take care of her and get her back on her feet. I could stay in Thunder Basin as long as she needed me.

I still had a place to call home.

Chet grabbed us a breakfast of pretzels and cran-apple juice from the vending machines, and as he was carting the food back, a doctor pushed through the double doors behind the ER desk and walked over.

“Hi, Stella. I’m Dr. Zielke. I performed Carmina’s angioplasty, and I’m happy to report it went as smoothly as these things can go. I hope you got a few minutes of sleep, though I doubt it was very restful. Hello again, Chet,” she said, nodding at him.

“How is she?” I asked.

“She’s asking for you,” Dr. Zielke replied with a friendly smile. “She’s a little out of sorts, and very tired, but anxious to talk to you.”

“When can she come home?”

“Tomorrow. When you pick her up, we’ll give you all sorts of instructions to aid her recovery. I’ve prescribed her medication to prevent blood clots from forming, and it’s very important that she take her medicine as directed. You can help with that.” Another smile. “She’s going to be okay, Stella. In about a week, she’ll be up and about, back to her old self.”

“I want to see her.”

She waved for me to follow.

I felt the rapid flutter of nervous anticipation as I followed Dr. Zielke through the double doors and down the beige-toned corridor. Chet was beside me, and he squeezed my hand. I listened to the hollow tap of our feet on the tiles, trying to figure out what I’d say when I saw her. Carmina would be formal, dignified, greeting me not without a little reservation. She didn’t like fanfare or fuss. I couldn’t decide how she’d want me to act.

Carmina’s door was open, and Dr. Zielke led us into the room. “I’ve brought you something better than flowers and balloons,” she told Carmina cheerfully.

I stepped around the partition dividing the room and felt my self-control abandon me.

I wasn’t a crier. Estella Goodwinn wasn’t a crier, and I hadn’t wanted Stella Gordon to be one either. But when I saw Carmina on the bed, her white hair matted and her eyes smudged with rings of exhaustion, my emotions slipped beyond my control. I moved toward her bed, stunning myself when I threw my arms around her.

“Now, there’s a face I’ve missed,” she said, her voice cracking. Stroking my hair, she pressed me firmly against her chest. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“They said you can come home tomorrow,” I choked.

“That’s right. Tomorrow I’ll come home. No more doctors, no more hospital. Just you and me, Stella-girl.”

CHET AND I TALKED ABOUT
the weather on the ride home. We talked about Carmina and Dusty. He brought up Major League Baseball, and threw in a few comments about the high quality of our softball team. During the twenty-minute ride, we seemed to touch on every subject except the one that was burning a hole in my chest.

I listened to the gravel pop beneath the tires as we left town and took the long stretch of unpaved road that led to Carmina’s. The corn in the fields was a lush green, and the stalks seemed to have shot up overnight—they were nearly as tall as Chet, and topped with wheat-colored tassels. The sky spread over us, not a single cloud to break up the soft denim blue. We passed cattle grazing behind wind-battered fences and fields of leggy sunflowers. The scenery was far different from the bustling streets of Philly. Different, but not bad. It just took time to get used to.

Finally I could stand our meaningless talk no longer.

“Where is Milton Swope’s Ranch?” I asked. I would let him decide when he was ready to talk about us, but I had to make real conversation. An awkward silence here and there was one thing. Riding next to Chet and suffering through all the uncomfortable and unspoken things waiting to be said while he rambled on about the forecast, well, that was pure torture.

“North of town. Heading toward the Sandhills.”

“What are the Sandhills?”

“They’re sand dunes,” he said, giving me an unfathomable look. “Have you never seen sand dunes?”

“Not in Nebraska.” I closed my eyes. “Paint me a picture.”

“I guess you could call them rolling hills made out of sand.”

“More description, please.”

Chet let go of some air, but I could tell he wasn’t exasperated. If anything, there was a hint of smile behind it. “I’m not a poet.”

“Do your best.”

He let a lengthy pause pass before he began in that deep and soothing voice of his, “Hundreds of years ago, maybe thousands, the wind whipped the sand into rolling drifts. Imagine an ocean of sand—a prairie ocean. Indian grass and wildflowers wave above the drifts. When you drive through the Sandhills, you can go for hours without seeing another car. You feel like you’re the only person left in the world. But it’s not a scary feeling, because you’re surrounded by a peaceful quiet you’ll never find anywhere else. If you park your car and walk away from the road, something magical happens. The wind begins to whisper to you. You have to listen carefully, but it will tell you that you’re not alone. You see a heron standing stock-still on one leg at the edge of a lake. He’s watching you. He’s as curious about you as you are about him. You’re new and strange, and he’s not used to your kind.

“You walk farther. Pelicans drift lazily on shimmering lakes, dipping their heads underwater to scout for fish. In the spring, prairie chickens stamp their feet and leap into the air to attract a mate. The courtship rituals are comical at first—but the longer you watch, the more impressed you are. The dances are complicated. They remind you of the tribal dances of the Sioux or Lakota. When you finally walk back to your car, you feel like you’re saying good-bye to an undiscovered land. You can’t help but think it was only by a miracle that this place escaped discovery. You leave with a picture in your mind of what the world must have looked like hundreds of years ago, before it was soiled by human hands.”

I sighed contentedly. “That was beautiful. I want to go there someday.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Will you take me?”

Chet pulled into Carmina’s driveway and parked. He turned off the engine, and I ordered myself not to speculate what it meant. Would he walk me to the door? Would he come inside? Was he finally ready to talk? There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but I had to deliberately keep my mouth closed and let him do this his own way.

“The other night at the party, I was frustrated when I said what I did. Disappointed, too,” he admitted. “I thought you liked me as more than a friend. I’d created this story in my head where we could be together. I built up the fantasy too far, and then when you turned me away, well, I had a long way to fall.

“I told you I didn’t trust myself to be your friend, but I was wrong. If that’s what you need, I can be that person. I’ll be your friend as long as you want. No strings attached. I’ll never ask for anything in return, won’t even expect it. Who knows?” he said with a faintly ironic smile. “Maybe we’ll be the first guy and girl on record to keep our relationship purely platonic.”

I tried my best to smile in agreement, but a strange sensation swirled through me. It was a mix of disappointment and regret. I knew it was shallow and wrong, but I wasn’t sure I wanted Chet to stop having feelings for me. I was flattered by his attention. And then there was that tiny issue of my attraction to him. Could we be friends? Strictly friends? He trusted himself to uphold his end of the bargain, but now that I was being forced to take a stance, I wasn’t so certain I had that kind of faith in myself.

I remembered Reed.

It had the right effect; it sobered me up and killed the mood. What was the matter with me? How could I entertain ideas of being with another guy when my boyfriend’s life was in question? I was committed to Reed until I knew for sure he was dead. And even then, I wanted to grieve for him properly. Chet was right. We’d make this platonic thing work.

“Thanks for taking me to the hospital,” I told him. “I was in no condition to drive myself, and I don’t think I could have handled sitting in that waiting room for hours alone.”

“It wasn’t even a question. Of course I wanted to be there for you.”

His words put a stir in my belly. Determined to ignore it, I said, “Will you come with me to pick up Carmina when they release her tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I know what time.”

“Do you work tonight?” Chet asked.

“Yeah. Last shift this week. I get off around eleven.”

“I’ll meet you here at the house. It’ll make me feel better knowing you made it in safely. I can walk through the house too, if you want. Nobody likes coming home to an empty house.”

“Are you accusing me of being scared of the dark?” I quipped. I wasn’t usually scared, but ever since Trigger had assaulted me, I’d been a little less comfortable with dark spaces. I felt safe in Carmina’s house, but just the same, I wouldn’t mind having Chet do a quick sweep of the place.

“Just trying to make you think I’m a gentleman,” he said.

“First you hang out all night at the hospital with me, now you’re sweeping my house for things that go bump in the night. You’re almost too good to be true.”

“I’ll do a walk-through and be on my way. I won’t hold up your plans.”

“No plans,” I told him. “You’re welcome to stay for some of Carmina’s highly touted basil lemonade if you want. And of course, you’ll have my company. You could do worse,” I teased.

“I’ll be the envy of the neighborhood,” he said casually enough, his swirling gaze framing me in his vision. He had remarkable eyes. A sultry blue that stood out against his dark hair. I meant to look away, but then I saw myself reflected in those mesmerizing eyes. Warm liquid flashed in my veins, and once again, I felt a dangerous tug to my restraint.

The harder I fought my attraction, the weaker I felt. In some ways, it was exhausting trying to avoid something that felt almost . . .

Inevitable.

Deciding there was no sense in flirting with temptation, I hopped out of the Scout.

“Let me walk you to the door,” he said, coming around to meet me. “No, I insist. I don’t believe in dropping a girl off in the driveway. Blame it on my mother, but she raised me to walk a girl to the door.”

Since I could see I was going to have a hard time talking him out of it, I let him have his way. But the minute we were on the porch, I said a quick thank-you, unlocked the door, and hustled inside.

I could do this. I could fake platonic. I could guilt-trip myself over Reed all I wanted, but the real issue weighing on my heart ran deeper, and I knew it. I was falling in love with Chet. And I wasn’t going to get involved with him only to break his heart in August.

*  *  *

Work was hectic and blissfully busy. In the chaos of the kitchen, I didn’t have time to think about seeing Chet later tonight. I told myself it was no big deal that we’d be alone in the house together—we were
friends
—but even I could tell when I was trying to convince myself something was less significant than it really was. There was nothing completely harmless or innocent about being alone with a very hot guy.

After work, I drove Carmina’s truck home. For once, I didn’t push the speed limit. I took the long way, hitting every red light I could, hating the foreign churning in my stomach. I was nervous. There, I said it. Estella Goodwinn, Stella Gordon, whoever the hell I was, was still capable of getting butterflies over a guy.

Chet’s Scout was already parked in the drive. No surprise he’d beaten me, since I’d taken the scenic route. I pulled Carmina’s truck in behind his, then realized I was blocking his exit. Not wanting him to think I was cleverly trying to keep him here overnight, I reversed, then scooted up beside the Scout, giving him plenty of room to leave whenever he wanted. Which would be soon, I was sure. After all, he was only here to check the house and give me peace of mind.

I found Chet leaning against the porch railing, his arms folded casually over his chest. Even though it was nearly midnight, the air felt sultry. The soft breeze couldn’t seem to stir the hot mugginess of the night. The moon glowed high above us, casting filmy yellow light. Shadows cut into the hollows of Chet’s face, making his eyes and cheekbones more prominent.