Above Rubies (Rockland Ranch) (3 page)

             
Finally, Kit felt herself wake up with less of the mist drifting through her head.  She looked up to find an extraordinarily good looking stranger with tired, deep blue eyes sitting beside her bed.  She was instinctively afraid and tried to curl up and turn away, pulling the blanket tightly to her.  She was too out of it to move much and felt the need to be sick before she could react.  Her body began to wretch and she was too sick to shrink from him, as the tall, blonde stranger stood up to hold a bag in front of her and pull her hair back away from her face.  He spoke to her softly, gently rubbing her shoulder and somehow she knew, even through the fog, that she’d be okay.  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes again.

             
Sometime later, she was having strange dreams of a scary, dark street and a gang, and her foster father.  Her fear was overpowering, but then there was a kind man and an angel with silvery, gold hair, then a dark haired woman talking about God.  There was a baby and a muddle of pain, and fear and flashing lights.  The images were disjointed and warped, and through it all was a horrible, queasy nausea.  The strange images smoothed away to be replaced by a sweet unfamiliar sense of security.  Even as she forced herself to wake because she knew she was going to be sick again, she still had this peaceful feeling that all was well.

             
She fought to open her eyes and realized there was someone there beside her supporting her back and smoothing her hair as she was sick into the blue bag he held for her.  He gently wiped her face and helped her settle back against the pillows, then went to the restroom to dampen a cloth.  Her mind was still zoned, and she couldn’t quite remember who he was, or why he was sitting here beside her hospital bed being so kind to her.  She couldn’t even remember how she came to be here. 

             
Her eyes sought his in a silent quest to understand.  He met her gaze openly and honestly as he gently placed the cloth on her brow and said, “I’m not sure why it works, but it seems to.  Try putting your hand here on this ice pack too.  The nurse said it sometimes helps the nausea.”

             
There was none of the horrible, suggestive leering she had come to expect from her foster father’s eyes, or the cruelty she had seen in her foster mother’s, or even the impatience she was used to from the case workers.  There was only kindness and a sense of infinite patience.

             
She tentatively put her hand out to touch the indicated ice pack, still wondering what he wanted from her.  She’d learned a long time ago that nobody did anything for her without a reason.  She pulled the sheet up around her neck in a gesture of self protection, before returning her hand to the ice pack. 

He reached out toward
the I.V. line attached to the back of her hand and she flinched sharply.  His eyes narrowed, questioning, but his voice was kind when he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.  I was just unkinking the tubing.  Dr. Sundquist wants to get as much fluids into you as possible.”  He slowly reached for the line and smoothed the bend, watching her eyes as he did. 

             
He really didn’t frighten her.  The flinch had been instinctive.  Years of being struck had made it reflexive.  Realizing she wasn’t afraid of him filled her half drugged head with wonder.  She believed him.  He wasn’t going to hurt her and she closed her eyes again, content to rest while he kept watch.

             
When she awoke horribly ill once more, he was still there, gently helping her and though she still wondered why, she knew she was safe and accepted his help gratefully.

             
An older, dark haired woman came in, followed by the nurse.  The woman put her arm around him, took Kit’s hand gently in hers, and asked, “Look who’s awake!  Still feeling lousy?”  Her blue eyes were bright and warm.

             
Kit nodded wordlessly, her eyes going from one to the other.  The nurse was doing something that squeezed her arm, and put an instrument in her ear again, then pulled out a keyboard to type something.  She smiled at Kit.  “Ready for some Jell-O or apple juice?”

             
Just the thought made Kit’s stomach heave and the man barely made it to her with the blue bag from where it hung on the wall.  Regretfully, he said, “I wondered if that was going to happen.”  He gently wiped her face once again.  “I have no idea how you can throw up.  You’ve eaten nothing for at least two days.”

             
As the nurse went out the door, she said over her shoulder, “It’s the I.V. fluids.”

             
“Mom,” He turned to the dark haired woman, “Can’t they give her anything for the nausea?  Isabel was this same way with her concussion.”

             
His mother came closer to Kit’s bed.  “Kit, I know it sounds kind of backward, but food may actually really help.  Is there anything that sounds good at all?”  She took Kit’s hand again.  “I’m Naomi, by the way.  I’m Rossen’s mom.  I’ve been here, but you’ve been pretty out of it.”

             
Kit sighed. “Anything sounds wonderful.  I’m starving.  I just can’t keep it down.”  She looked down at her hands.  It wasn’t a concussion that was causing this.  She’d been this way for three and a half months, but she couldn’t tell them that.

             
Naomi turned to the man.  “Rossen, go ask at the nurse’s station for some soda crackers and warm 7-Up, then go down to the cafeteria for a large cheeseburger and bring it back hot.  Make it a double”

             
“It’ll never work.”  He was shaking his head.  She just nudged him toward the door.

             
“We’ll at least try.  Even if it only stays down for a moment, she’ll get something from it.”

             
As he went out the door, Naomi moved close again.  “Kit, I don’t mean to intrude, but Dr. Sundquist told me yesterday that you're expecting a baby.  I’ve had six babies and I’m inclined to think this is probably more morning sickness than brain concussion.  Is that a possibility?”

             
Kit raised her eyes to Naomi, completely ashamed to admit the truth to her, but then again almost comforted to be able to finally speak about her troubles to this woman who had been kind, even after finding out about the baby. She nodded and said, “I haven’t kept much down in three and a half months.” 

             
Naomi put a hand on her bony shoulder and smiled.  “You haven’t had Naomi there to help you.  With one of mine, I could only eat a tiny bit to keep it down, but with the other five I had to eat like a Sumo wrestler twenty-four seven to feel half-way decent.  I’m just assuming you haven’t had a lot because you’re so thin.”  Kit shook her head no and Naomi went on, “Can we try to give you a lot.  If it doesn’t work we’ll try the warm 7-Up and crackers.  Somehow, you and this baby need a lot more nutrition to be healthy.”

             
Kit started to cry. “I know.  I know I’m not doing a very good job at having this baby, but I’m doing the best I can.  I didn’t want to get pregnant, but I did, and when my foster father found out, he was going to force me to have an abortion.”  She put her hand over her belly.  “I didn’t plan for this baby, but I don’t want him to kill it.  That’s why I ran.  He was going to make me.”  Tears escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

             
Naomi’s voice was gentle as she asked, “Kit.  How old are you?”

             
Kit tried to control her sobs.  “Seventeen.”

             
“Who is the father?”

             
She wouldn’t look up and Naomi came to her and leaned over, pulling her to her in a hug as she cried.  Finally, in the smallest of voices, Kit said, “My foster father.” 

             
They were both in tears and didn’t see Rossen when he came back in with the food.  He looked from one to the other, then silently slipped back out the door unnoticed. 

             
A few minutes later, whistling loudly, he came through the doorway again.  This time, although it was still evident that they'd been emotional, the tears were gone and Naomi looked up as she was helping Kit brush her hair and said, “Ah, good.  There you are.  This girl needs some food.  I know a cheeseburger isn’t usually the first thing to try, but maybe it’ll go down easy.”  Naomi smiled at her and squeezed Kit’s hand.

             
“It smells wonderful.”  Kit took the burger and began to eat it.  Rossen watched skeptically as he moistened a cloth.  After just a couple bites she was sick again, but Naomi encouraged her to keep eating and miraculously she made it through the rest of the burger and kept it down beautifully.

             
Rossen was amazed and said, “Mom, you are a miracle.  Do you know how sick this girl has been?  That is so backward.  I would have thought a tiny bit of bland food would be better.  How did you know?”

             
Naomi just winked at Kit.  “Moms know everything, honey.  You know that by now, don’t you?”  She wrapped her arm around her son’s waist.

             
“I should."  He grinned.  "You caught me every single time I did something wrong!”

             
Kit was still tired.  Her head ached and her elbow throbbed.  When she hadn’t been able to keep pain pills down, they’d brought her a morphine pump.  It kept the pain under control, but made her sleepy, and finally well fed, she went back to sleep almost instantly. 

             
When she next woke, Naomi was gone, but Rossen was still there asleep in the chair beside her bed.  It was strange.  Somehow as he had been helping her, she had come to trust him.  There was something so innately safe about him that she’d been able to push aside the fear she’d come to have for literally every male she encountered.  

She studied him
in the dim quiet.  He was tall with bleached blonde hair and long legs stretched out in front of his chair, crossed at the ankles.  Faded jeans and cowboy boots exactly fit his casual strength.  He was incredibly handsome, even with his eyes closed and she already knew that with his eyes open he was devastatingly so.  His eyes were deep blue and although he always seemed to be smiling, they had a quiet depth that went on forever.  Even in his sleep he had a hint of a smile in the tiny lines around them.  She wondered how old he was.  He obviously wasn’t a teenager anymore.

             
She still wasn’t exactly sure how she came to be here at the hospital with him and his sweet mom.  She’d never been around anyone like them.  Their love and affection was so obvious and comfortable it was remarkable. And the way they treated her was unbelievable.  They treated her like she actually deserved to be cared for and watched over, even though they didn’t know her.  They had never even met her before when?  She still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of that. 

The last thing she remembered was walking down the street in the dark, knowing she'd made a huge mistake assuming she could survive.  The thought made
her start worrying again.  She hadn’t seen her guitar or backpack and she wasn’t sure, but for some reason she thought the guitar was gone.  Just the idea made her sad.  How would she ever support herself and her baby without it?  It was the only thing she knew how to do.

             
She would have to find a way.  She knew she would never give up and let them abort this baby.  She sub-consciously lifted her chin as she put her hand protectively on her belly. 

             
“What’s wrong?”  When he asked her the question in his deep voice, she jumped.  She hadn’t even realized he was awake.  “Are you sick again?”  She shook her head, amazed that she wasn’t.  It was the first time in weeks that she could say that.

             
“Why the frown?”  She wondered how long he had been watching her without her knowing it.

             
She decided to be honest.  “I was just trying to figure out how I got here, who you are and why you’re here.  And how I’m going to pay for all this, and where I’m going to go when they release me.”

             
He smiled as he leaned forward in his seat.  “I brought you here.  Well, two of my friends and I.  We basically stole you from a gang.  I’m Rossen Rockland, rodeo cowboy slash petroleum engineer.  I manage the oil wells on my parent’s ranch about sixty miles north of here.  I’m here because you need someone with you.  We haven’t gotten to the payment question yet, although the doctor donated his services and the hospital is considering it.  And what was the fourth question?  Oh yeah, when they release you, I’m sure you’ll come home to my parents' ranch, unless there’s somewhere else you would rather go.”

             
He made it all sound so simple.  She shook her head slowly and asked, “I’m sorry.  I don’t remember a gang.  What happened?”  She wasn’t sure she truly wanted to know.

             
With a lazy smile, he said, “If you don’t remember, I’m not going to tell you.  It’s better left forgotten.” 

She accepted his wisdom
, but asked, “Where did you come along?  The last thing I remember was walking late at night.”  She dropped her eyes.

             
“We were gassing up at a station there in Vegas when you obviously needed some help.  So we helped.  I wish we’d been about ten seconds earlier.”  At this last, his voice sounded sad.