Saving Alyssa (Mills & Boon Heartwarming) (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“L
OOK
, I
WOULDN
'
T
ask if I wasn't desperate. Be a pal and help me out here.”

Noah couldn't decide if Troy was serious or joking. “She's your
mom,
not Godzilla. Besides, I thought your parents canceled Thanksgiving.”

“They did, but they wanted to spend a few days with us before their cruise.”

Troy looked at Billie, his hands extended. “Tell him, kid. Tell him what will happen if Mom gets here and my house still looks...” a sweep of his arm indicated the empty rooms “...like this.”

Noah glanced at her, standing in the doorway between her brother's foyer and living room. Did she seem small and delicate because the arch was so large? Or because of the sympathetic look on her expressive face?

“He's right,” she said. “Mom will start a one-woman campaign to fill every space with furniture.”

“And doilies and knickknacks and embroidered throw pillows. See?” Troy's voice cracked slightly. “I really need your help, man!”

Noah had already agreed to loan him his truck. Alyssa might get a kick out of traipsing through a department store in search of bath towels, pots and pans, window coverings and bed linens, but it would bore Noah to tears.

“Alyssa can stay with me,” Billie offered, “if that's why you're hesitating. She can go grocery shopping with me to fill Mr. Hubbard's cupboards.”

Troy stepped up and opened his wallet. “Here,” he said, handing her a credit card, “use that. And remember, I hate lima beans.”

Was Noah thinking about saying yes because helping a pal made his life seem more normal, or because saying no would disappoint Billie?

“You'll watch her like a hawk, right?” He knew she would, so why had he said it?

“I'll pretend she's mine.”

He'd seen how she tended Bud after the operation. There wasn't a nurse anywhere who would have doted on the man that way, and she'd done it gladly. Bud's cat got the royal treatment, too. If Billie could treat a snaggle-toothed black cat with that much TLC... But this wasn't an elderly neighbor or a scraggly pet they were talking about. It was
Alyssa.

“Promise you won't let her out of your sight, even for an instant.”

“I promise.” On anyone else's face, he might have called that smile patronizing. But this was Billie, who didn't seem to have a condescending bone in her body.

“All right. Count me in. I'll go shopping with you.” Troy clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man!”

Billie reached into her pocket and pulled out two pieces of paper. She handed one to Noah, then gave the other to Troy.

Troy started reading his aloud. “‘TV, computer, printer, microwave, washing machine, dryer...'” He tucked it into his shirt pocket. “When did you have time to make us lists?”

“Doesn't matter. Just follow them.”

While Troy groaned, Billie pressed his credit card into Noah's palm. “It'll save time if you split up.” She pointed at his list. “If you get the little stuff while he's choosing appliances and arranging deliveries, all the major stuff will be in place when our folks get here...the day after tomorrow.”

Noah glanced at his paper, then looked at Troy. “Persuasive for a little thing, isn't she,” he said, pocketing it.

“You think she's bad, just wait until you meet her mother.”

Billie waved his joke aside. “If you call the school,” she said to Noah, “I'll pick Alyssa up and we'll head straight to the grocery store. We'll get things put away, and then I'll take her to my house so she can get started on her homework.”

“So much for waiting till the weekend,” Troy muttered.

That's pretty much what Noah had been thinking. But it wouldn't break the bank if he closed the bike shop early. He had to hand it to Billie, though, because in a matter of minutes, she'd organized the shopping trip that would turn her brother's empty house into a home. And if he knew her, she'd pitch in and organize everything they bought, too.

After he called the school to arrange Alyssa's pickup, Billie left them to work out the final details. During the drive to the discount store, Noah tried to imagine how his daughter would react when she saw Billie arrive in his place. And how she'd look walking up and down the grocery store aisles beside her new best friend. The idea made him smile, because he could almost see them, discussing every item that ended up in the cart.

Noah and Troy parked side by side and headed into the store, where Troy veered toward the sheets and comforters section, while Noah grabbed towels, bath mats and a shower curtain. Next, he added cookware, silverware, dishes and glasses to the cart, and Troy sought out the window blinds. They paid for their purchases, carried the merchandise to the parking lot, then went back inside for a mattress and box spring.

“Billie will be disappointed,” he said, smirking as the clerk rang up the order. “She thinks our folks are staying at her place, now that I have one of my own.”

And once the clerk assured a morning delivery, they went on to the appliance aisle.

Noah focused on price and energy savings, while Troy commented on color and style. A couple shopping nearby scrutinized them and gave them a thumbs-up.

Troy snickered.

“Oh, don't even—”

“Don't worry. I have too many scruples to put the moves on a guy my sister's sweet on.”

Noah decided it was quicker and easier to go along with the joke than to press Troy for details. Besides, a salesman was headed their way.

“What can I do for you today?” the man asked.

Troy pointed out the appliances he'd need, and once it was determined they were in stock, the man, whose name was Victor, started the transaction. He explained the warranties and made sure Troy knew about the next day delivery and installation charges.

“Best customer I've had all week,” he said while Troy signed the credit card receipt. “Almost makes me wish I wasn't hourly. Six appliances in one sale?” He whistled and tucked the paperwork into a pamphlet-sized pocket folder.

On the way to the parking lot, Troy said, “Well, I just about spent my limit, but we're finished.” He checked his watch. “And in record time, too. I challenge any woman to furnish an entire house in less than two hours.” Now he patted his stomach. “Who knew going broke could work up such an appetite? I'm starving.”

Noah laughed. “Tell you what. I'll call Billie, give her a heads-up that I'm bringing a couple of pizzas home. And since you broke the bank in there, it's my treat. We'll consider it a housewarming gift.”

“Make mine pepperoni and mushroom. And take it easy on the drive home, will ya? I'd hate to see you end up on the side of the road...”

Born and bred in Chicago, Noah knew how to drive on snow-covered roads. Maryland's sleet and freezing rain made him glad he lived and worked in the same place.

“...because I'm in no mood to watch you chase frying pan lids and shower curtains down Route 100.”

“You're all heart, man. All heart.”

Troy grinned. “If Billie's okay staying with Alyssa after we eat, maybe I can talk you into dropping the stuff that's in your truck over to my place.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Troy started to get into his car, then said over the roof, “You're a pal, man. Really saved my bacon today.”

Guy talk, Noah thought, for “thank you” and “friend.”

“No problem,” he said, sliding behind the wheel. Like it or not, it seemed he had a pal. How long since that had happened? In college, he'd gone to the usual after-game parties, but stayed on the sidelines. At the office, he'd attended only mandatory social functions. And much to Jillian's dismay, he'd flat-out refused to take part in block parties. Having
friends
had never been important to him. Getting ahead. Making a name for himself. Earning money. That's what mattered.

Money. Did he have enough cash for pizza? If not, he'd pretend he was Troy, and slap down some plastic. In the lot at Domino's, he dialed Billie's cell number, talking as he entered the shop.

“How do you like your pizza?” he asked.

“Anything but anchovies.”

“Good. I'm bringing supper, so don't cook.” He paused, covered the mouthpiece. “Two large pizzas,” he told the kid behind the counter. “One plain cheese. One with half everything, half pepperoni and mushroom.”

“Except anchovies,” she said into his ear.

“Except anchovies.”

The kid wrote it up and stuck the order ticket on the pass-through counter. “Slow tonight,” he said. “Ten or fifteen minutes.”

Noah handed him his credit card as Billie said, “Funny you had this idea. Alyssa was just saying it's been ages since you guys had pizza. She'll be happy.”

“So she's behaving?”

“Like an angel. We had a ball. Shopping, baking, playing old maid...”

She laughed, and so did he.

“So what did you guys bake?”

“Brownies. And chocolate chip cookies.”

“That's my Alyssa. She knows what I like. I'm guessing Troy should be there in five, ten minutes.”

“I heard on the news that it's sleeting, so take it easy...”

“I'll find a salt truck and follow it.”

“...because we wouldn't want anything to happen to you.”

We? He liked the sound of that. It had been a pretty good day so far. In the span of a few hours, he'd made a pal and found out that Billie—

Noah caught a glimpse of himself in the chrome exterior of the cash register. Crooked grin, slouching shoulders, half-closed eyes... The kid stacked two pizza boxes on the counter. “Sir? Is everything all right?”

Embarrassed, and trying his best not to laugh at himself, Noah checked the labels: cheese; the works.

“Yeah.” He paid and said thanks, then left the shop without a backward glance. “See you in a few,” he said to Billie, and hung up.

Five minutes later, he was still chuckling to himself when traffic came to a halt. He checked his watch. Too early for the usual rush-hour gridlock.

By his calculations, he was four, maybe five cars back from the accident, but because of the curve and slight incline, he couldn't see if it was serious or not. Since they weren't moving anyway, Noah turned off the pickup, grabbed the keys and jogged forward to get a better look. If it seemed as if it might take a while to get tow trucks in place, he'd give Billie a heads-up; those pizzas were getting colder by the minute, and she'd need to rustle up something else for Alyssa and Troy's supper.

As he rounded the corner, Noah realized it wasn't one accident, but several.

An elderly woman, her beaded purse hanging from her wrist, wandered, as if she'd been rudely shaken awake from a dream.

A little girl no older than Alyssa sat on the pavement, wide-eyed and silent, a trickle of blood oozing from her left eyebrow.

No sign of ambulances or police cars, he noticed, so he withdrew his phone and dialed 9-1-1.

Crouching, he placed a hand on the child's shoulder. “Where's your mommy or daddy?” he asked. And she pointed three cars up, at the maroon minivan that lay smoking on its side.

“9-1-1,” said a man's deep voice. “What is your emergency?”

“I'm on Route 100,” Noah said, tucking the little girl's hair behind her ear. “There's been a multivehicle accident. Four, maybe five of them. People are hurt. I can't tell yet how bad.”

“Where on Route 100, sir?”

Cars on the other side of the highway were slowing, and all he could think was
Knock it off, you idiots, before you end up in the same kind of mess!
Noah tried to remember the last exit sign he'd seen. “Long Gate Parkway, I think. We're on the westbound side.”

“Emergency personnel is on the way. Stay on the line with me, sir. Can you tell me what you see?”

“Stay right here,” Noah told the little girl, “while I check on your family, okay?”

Lower lip quivering, she nodded as he stood up.

The blacktop was slick, and he took care with every step. As he walked, windshield glass crunched under his boots. “There's smoke coming from this minivan,” he told the dispatcher, “and everyone inside seems to be unconscious. Two adults, one child. And there's blood. Lots of blood.”

He looked beyond the van, tried to figure out what had caused it to end up on its side. “Two more cars, I think,” he said, as the woman in the first one moaned. “Help is on the way,” he told her, then described her condition to the operator: older model car; steering column pressed tight against her ribs; front seat shoved into the back. “She's shaking. Guess she's in shock.”

“Don't try to move her, sir. Medics are en route.”

Yeah, yeah, but how did he help these people in the meantime!

Noah took off his jacket and gently draped it over the woman. His dad had always carried a handkerchief in his right rear pocket, and since leaving Chicago, Noah had, too. He blotted her bloody lip with it, then kept moving.

“People are getting out of their cars. Wandering around. Not the ones involved in this mess. Just other drivers.”

“Yes, sir. I can hear them. We're getting other calls about this incident now. You're doing great. What else are you seeing?”

“Two more cars,” Noah said. “A pickup truck. And a jackknifed 18-wheeler. Nothing in front of it.” He took a deep breath.

“Smoke's coming from the semi, too,” he added. “Don't see the driver...he's too high up in the—”

And then he saw Troy's car.

Noah relayed the information to the dispatcher: the car sideways...and upside down in the lane. Dashboard shattered. Driver's door caved in. Troy dangled from the seat belt, like a marionette without a puppeteer. The airbag had deployed—fat lot of good that had done him.