Guardian Angel (4 page)

“You are the best husband ever,” Lexi said lovingly, giving him another kiss.  “Give me a sec to change and I’ll be good to go.”

Ian watched her walk into the bedroom, his eyes hot, hungry and filled with worship.  Kane felt a rare pang of envy. 

“Go ahead,” Kane said, lifting Patrick in the air till he giggled.  “You’ve got ten minutes.”

With a grin that could have lit half the state, Ian wasted no time following his wife into the bedroom.

––––––––

“N
eed an extra hand?” Kane asked a short while later as they grabbed the bags with a change of clothes and Patrick’s favorite must-haves. 

Ian hesitated.  Kane knew he was carefully considering his answer.  It didn’t take a mind reader to know that Ian didn’t want to come right out and tell him he wasn’t up to it.  Partly because he feared Kane would kick his ass to prove otherwise, and partly because he understood how difficult it was for Kane to watch and not
do
. 

“Yeah,” Ian said finally. 
Wisely
.  “I have a feeling we’re going to need all the help we can get before the night is over.”

* * *

R
ebecca Harrison blew a strand of hair out of her face as she strove for patience.  After spending more than ten years in third world countries, she found it unbelievable that there was no way to travel the three and a half hours northwest from Philadelphia to get to Pine Ridge. 

Yeah, there was a storm.  So what?  She’d already been through earthquakes, tsunamis, floods and fires of Biblical proportions and volcanic eruptions.  And somehow people always found a way to do what needed to be done in those regions, despite the fact that they didn’t have cars or planes or trains or busses.  Most of the time they didn’t even have shoes.

Frustrated with the run-around she was getting from AmTrak and Septa, she finally settled on thumbing it.  From the airport, she walked to the nearest on ramp of I-95 and waited.  Many people laid on their horns or shouted rude comments as they crawled past her in the heavy traffic.  She ignored them. 

Finally a kindly trucker took pity on her.  While most would have said what she did was stupid and reckless, she disagreed.  She’d always had a sixth sense about people.  She could tell the good ones from the bad as easily as she could tell you what color hair they had; it’s one of the things that kept her alive all these years.  If she’d sensed even the slightest bit of malice from the trucker, she would have passed.  But she didn’t.

He was an older man, mid-sixties maybe, with a kind face and a well-trimmed beard.  Small rings of white mixed with gray peaked out from beneath the Peterbuilt cap he wore, and the lines on his face gave her the distinct impression that he smiled much and laughed often.

After offering her a blanket from behind the seat and some coffee from his Thermos – both of which she gratefully accepted – he gave her a lecture on the dangers of hitchhiking while country music played softly in the background.  She listened quietly, keeping her smiles to herself as she nodded contritely and murmured the appropriate responses.  His voice was deep and bellowing, but laced with kindness.  She had no desire to tell him the horrors she’d witnessed first-hand, or to relay the countless examples of evil and cruelty she’d encountered, so she let him ramble on, letting him believe that she had seen the error of her ways. 

When he’d gotten it all off of his chest, they settled into a comfortable silence.  Rebecca let her head lean against the window and closed her eyes.  The rumble of the big engine, the warmth of the heater, and the rhythmic pounding of the rain and windshield wipers all conspired with Keith Urban’s velvety voice to lull her into a nap, where visions of a man with hard features, jet black hair, and icy blue eyes was waiting to cuss her out.  Her lips curved in anticipation.

Kane
.  Such a strong name.  Such a strong man.  Even now her fingers tingled, remembering the feel of his hard body beneath them.  Her heart stuttered at the laser-like force of his gaze.  And her lips twitched at the echo of forceful words, empty words meant only to scare her into safety.  It had been hard to resist the command in his voice, a strange compulsion to do as he wished even though it went against her instincts.  That made him dangerous, for she had never had a problem doing what she felt was right.  And it was a good thing she didn’t scare easily.

For the millionth time, she wondered how he was doing, and hoped that he got the medical attention he needed.  His brothers assured her he would, and her gift for reading others told her they were honest and trustworthy enough to believe them.  It allowed her the peace of mind to go back and do what she needed to do.  Otherwise, she wasn’t sure she could have left him.

––––––––

“Y
ou sure you’re going to be okay, honey?” the trucker asked once again, his expression doubtful.  He’d pulled into a truck stop off the interstate, the closest exit to her final destination. 

“I’ll be fine, Hank,” she assured him, handing him the bag of goodies she’d purchased for him in the Quick Mart.  “I can’t thank you enough for helping me out.”

Surprised, he peered into the bag.  Above his whiskers, she swore she saw a hint of pink when he spotted the Yodels, Ho-Ho’s, Twinkies, and Oatmeal Cream Pies. 

“The only catch is you have to promise you won’t eat them all at once,” she said, grinning. 

“My Clara never lets me have these,” he murmured. 

“Trust me, Hank.  One or two of these bad boys a day won’t do you any harm.  And life’s too short to go without goodies.  Just remember – everything in moderation.”

It only took a minute before a grin spread across his face as well.  “Everything in moderation.  Yeah.  I like that.”

“You’ve earned it,” she said.

“I dunno that I did you any favors,” he said, stowing the bag in his cab.  “Sounds like everything from here on up is in bad shape.  Maybe you should try to get a room ‘round here till this weather breaks.”

Rebecca was already shaking her head.  “No, things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.”  She gestured back toward a couple of National Guard trucks.  “And these guys said they’d give me a lift.  I’ll be in good hands.”

P
ine Ridge High School was designated as one of the emergency shelters for flood victims.  Donations of medical supplies, food, blankets, cots, and clothing were arriving by the minute, along with National Guard trucks filled with people evacuated from the rapidly rising flood waters.  Michael had taken over the school nurse’s office and set up a first aid center, but people were coming in faster than he could get to them.  The others had gone down closer to the flood zones, using boats, rafts, and anything else they could to get residents out of immediate danger.

“Does anyone here have any medical training?” Michael called out hopefully to the chaotic gymnasium. 

“I do.” 

Michael searched for the source of the voice, finally finding it by looking down to where a woman was skillfully taping a swollen ankle.

“Good.  Come with me.”

The woman finished, carefully securing the end and stood.  She was dressed in jeans and a lightweight linen tunic that extended to her knees, very Middle-Eastern looking.  Light golden brown hair was pulled back in a clasp; big brown eyes with an unusual, slightly almond shape regarded him with intelligence.  Michael’s first thought was that something about her looked vaguely familiar. 

“Have we met?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, following him into the hallway.  “I’m just here for a visit.”

“You picked a hell of a time to visit,” Michael said with a friendly grin.

“Yeah,” she grinned back.  “I’m not known for my impeccable timing.”

A brief question and answer session was enough to convince Michael that she knew enough to be useful.  Even as they spoke she was arranging supplies like a seasoned nurse.  He asked her to help with triage and minor complaints while sending the more serious injuries back to him.  She nodded, grabbing a small box and putting a few items into it, heading right back out into the growing crowd before he had a chance to ask her name.

A steady stream of patients continued to make their way back to him, but it was a huge improvement over the chaos that had reigned earlier.  There were only a few cases he couldn’t handle on site and had to refer to the ER.  When he made his way out to the waiting area, he was expecting to find it full, but surprisingly, it was nearly empty.  The young woman he’d enlisted earlier was wielding a mop and cleaning up an obvious mess where someone had been sick, the scent of disinfectant heavy in the air.

“Where is everyone?” he said incredulously.

She paused, turning to the sound of his voice and smiled.  Rather than looking harried, she seemed perfectly at ease, if a little tired.  “Most of them aren’t hurt, just scared with maybe a few minor scrapes and bruises.  I sent them over to the cafeteria for hot chocolate and cookies.  I hear they’re awesome.”

Michael chuckled.  His wife Maggie had been baking for days, anticipating a need for comfort food.  “They are.  I can attest to that personally.”  Rebecca finished her task and began to push the big bucket toward the door.  “Things are looking good here for the moment.  Why don’t we take advantage of the lull and grab something ourselves?”

“Good idea,” she agreed.

“So... I’m guessing this is not your first natural disaster,” he told her as they walked down the corridor, the volume of the crowd in the cafeteria increasing with each step.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Seriously, you did amazing.  Where’d you learn to triage like that?”

A shadow crossed her face, gone so quickly he thought he might have imagined it.  “I spent some time with the Red Cross overseas.”

Michael looked at the woman before him.  Appearances were deceiving.  She looked far too small, too soft, too gentle to be a disaster relief worker.  Yet somehow she’d managed to calm, organize, and triage an entire gymnasium’s worth of evacuees.  The empty room was more telling than anything.  The woman knew what she was doing.

“Well, I am impressed.”  He offered her his hand.  “And I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.  Michael Callaghan.”

She took his hand.  “Rebecca Harrison.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, realization dawning as he finally placed the familiar and unique brown eyes.  “Aidan’s sister?”

“You know my brother?”

A grin spread across his face.  “I do.  Very well, in fact.  He’s worried sick about you.  Does he know you’re here?”

“I haven’t had a chance to call him,” she admitted.  “It’s been a little crazy.  Guess I should, huh?” 

Michael’s grin grew wider.  “I can do you one better.  Come on.”

They entered the cafeteria, where nearly every table was filled.  Michael led the way through the crowd, Rebecca following in his wake.  Behind the counter were volunteers offering hot drinks and hot meals.  Among them was the CEO of the Celtic Goddess restaurant, serving up food to the tired and hungry masses. 

“Hey, Aidan.  Look what I found,” Michael called out as they neared the counter.

Aidan looked up briefly, looked down, then looked up again sharply in a double-take.  “Rebecca!” 

He wasted no time in making his way out to her, smothering her in a bear hug.  “Jesus, Becca!  How did you get here?  And why the hell didn’t you call me?”

Rebecca laughed.  “It’s a long story, but I’m here now.”

“Thank God.”

“Yeah, He probably had something to do with it,” she smirked.

Their reunion was put on hold when someone shouted that the next load of evacuees had just arrived.  “We’ll catch up later, ok?” Rebecca said, hastily kissing his cheek.  “I’ll be in the gym with Michael.  Love you!”

And before he could argue, she was gone, leaving him shaking his head and smiling. 

* * *

K
ane sank down onto the bench and gratefully accepted the cup of hot coffee Taryn handed him.  The rain had finally stopped in the immediate area, but it was still dumping sheets to the north and it would take another thirty-six hours for the river to fully crest.  They’d been working non-stop, pulling people from roofs and second story windows when the flood waters rose faster than expected.

After twelve straight hours, he and his brothers Sean and Jake came back to the school for a short break.  They were tired, wet, cold, and hungry.  Not to mention his hip was throbbing like a bitch.  It was a situation he was all too familiar with.  At least no one was shooting at him this time.

“What the hell is he so happy about?” Kane grumbled when he saw the huge grin on Aidan’s face.

“His sister made it in after all,” his sister-in-law Taryn shared, taking a sip from her cup and stretching the kinks out of her neck.  “Turns out she’s been here a while, helping Michael out in the gym with the first aid and stuff.”

“She’s a nurse?”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Taryn said, handing him a sandwich and taking one for herself.  “Aidan said she spent the last twelve years overseas with the Red Cross.  Guess she picked up on the medical stuff there.”

Kane’s hands stilled about midway as he brought the cup up to his mouth.  He glanced over at Aidan.  At the honey-bronze hair.  At the brown and gold eyes. 
Son of a bitch.
  It couldn’t be that easy, could it?  Without another word, he set the cup down, sandwich forgotten, and made his way toward the gym.

It didn’t take long to spot her.  There she was, moving – no,
gliding
- through the throngs of the wet, bedraggled masses, looking like a vision.  Yes, her jeans were muddy and torn and splattered with God knew what.  Her tunic was wrinkled and just as stained.  Her hair rebelled against the forced incarceration of the thick brown clip, cascading around her face and past her shoulders.  She was thinner than he remembered, but still decadently lush.  Her eyes were shining.  Her skin was pleasantly flushed and pink.  And her smiles came easily and often.

Kane swallowed and closed his eyes.  The din of the masses retreated into the background.  He focused on her until he could hear her voice, a gentle, soothing hum, cutting through the anxiety and despair, offering comfort, direction, and encouragement.  He knew that voice, had experienced the quiet power of it; he’d heard it speaking to him in his dreams for the last three months.  He opened his eyes, his ears now attuned to her voice, so he could track her movements as well.