Counting On It (Hearts for Ransom Book 1) (18 page)

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Abby asked, holding Emily’s arm and preventing her from entering her parents’ house.

Emily took a deep breath. “I’m sure I
don’t
want to do this, but I have to go back to work next week and I’ll be too busy. Mom and Dad wouldn’t want me to let things just set here like a museum. I need to do this.”

She was going to donate their clothes and furniture to Goodwill—except her mom’s wooden rocking chair. It was going home with her. The only food she had to take care of was the nonperishables since her parents had been traveling, so Abby had arranged for the church to send a van to pick it up for their food bank. Other than a few pieces of jewelry that were special to her, and whatever Abby selected, she was going to let her grandparents and aunt and uncle have their choice of what was left. Aaron and Sara might want something. Everything else was being packed in boxes and going to a rented storage shed. Someday when she was able, she’d sort through the books and papers and deal with those things.

The task she dreaded the most was sitting in the middle of the living room floor. There were three large trunks filled with her parents’ personal effects. The authorities in Florida had obtained everything and shipped it home. Since it was the last thing Emily wanted to do, she was going to tackle it first and get it out of the way.

“You should have let Logan come.”

Emily shook her head. “He’s already missed enough work because of me. He barely finished Taylor’s last project on schedule, and it was only because Mason stepped in and took over so often.”

She walked to the smallest trunk and sank to her knees in front of it. Already fighting tears, she unfastened the latch and lifted the lid. Abby was right beside her as she looked at the souvenirs her parents had bought. There were all sorts of things made from shells. Emily laughed through her tears when she picked up the heavy glass paperweight with shells suspended in it. Underneath it was an aluminum license plate. A picture of a shell that had been given human features was on one side of it. Words were written underneath the picture. “Shell be comin’ round the mountain.” Her dad had been so cheesy sometimes.

She pulled out a beautiful set of bamboo wind chimes she knew her mom had bought for the motor home. There were so many other things she lost track. It wasn’t until she felt Abby’s arm tighten around her shoulders when she realized she had soaked the front of her blouse with her tears.

“I’m keeping these.” She picked up the chimes and the silly license plate. “I’ll just put the rest in storage.”

Abby helped her put everything back, and she was the one who closed the lid and fastened it.

The next trunk wasn’t quite as difficult. It was her father’s clothes. Emily was doing fine until his favorite faded “I’d rather be fishing” T-shirt caught her eye. She reached through the rest of the things and tugged it out. When she did, she heard a small thud. “Help me,” she asked Abby, then started digging through the clothes. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There was her dad’s pocket watch. He had rarely gone anywhere without it, claiming it made him appear “scholarly.” “He left it behind,” she said through her tears. “He left it.” She held the t-shirt and watch against her face. It was probably just her imagination, but she thought she could smell her dad—his ever-present scent of Old Spice.

Emily reluctantly set the T-shirt and watch down with the other things she was keeping, and with Abby’s help, repacked her dad’s clothes. They would go to Goodwill.

Now she knew she didn’t want to open the last case. It felt like she was saying goodbye to them all over again. She slowly opened it and there, like she expected, were her mother’s clothes. And this time, it definitely wasn’t her imagination. Her mom’s signature scent, “Twilight Woods”, emanated from the open trunk. Emily picked up an armful of clothes and buried her face in them, fresh tears flowing. She wanted her mom to be there—to hold her and comfort her and tell her everything was going to be okay. She felt like a lost little girl.

“Em, you have to let go.” Abby gently pulled the clothes away from Emily. “They’re just clothes. Your mom would bust our butts if she saw us in here crying over a trunk of clothes.” It was then Emily realized her friend was crying every bit as hard as she was. She turned and hugged Abby, burying her face against Abby’s neck. They stayed that way for a few minutes.

Emily felt her tears slow until she was once more in control of her emotions. She turned and dug through her mom’s things until she found what she was looking for—the ridiculous night shirt with a horse holding a paper fan and the words “hot to trot” on it. She was keeping that.

She firmly closed the lid and turned to Abby. “Do you think Brody would help us get these clothes and this furniture to Goodwill?”

“We’re here.” Emily looked up and saw Logan standing in the doorway. “We’re here.” He walked on into the room. There, behind him came the rest of the Slammers—every one of them. “We brought our muscles and our trucks. Just tell us what you need for us to do, Em.”

She jumped up and launched herself into his arms. “Thank you.” He held her tightly against him for a few minutes.

“She wants all of the clothes and furniture, except this pile and that chair, to go to Goodwill,” Abby was telling the others. “I’ll get enough buckets of chicken to feed all of you for doing this.”

“We don’t need anything,” Colton told her. “We’re doing it for Emily.”

Bo walked over and gently pulled Emily out of Logan’s arms. He looked her square in the eye and said, “This bites, too, Emily.”

Emily smiled through her tears. This man had a way with words. She’d like to meet his girlfriend someday.

She looked at Logan before turning to his…and her…friends. “You’ll probably have to take the beds apart to get them downstairs.” Colton, Logan, Bo, and Brody followed her up the stairs. The others began following Abby’s instructions and started with the downstairs furniture.

Logan had only asked Colton to help, and the next thing he knew, they’d all pulled up at the construction site, ready to follow him there to help Emily. They were ahead of schedule on the Jensen house so he could afford to close up shop for the day. He’d left Gerald, Trevor’s grandfather, on site to answer the phone and accept deliveries. Hiring the man had proven to be advantageous for both of them.

He watched Emily lead Colton and Brody into what appeared to be the master bedroom. She came right back out.

“Will you two help me with my old room?” She led them to a door across the hall.

Logan felt like he was stepping back in time when he walked into the room. There were trophies on shelves, and ribbons on the wall. Emily’s senior picture held the place of honor on top of a snow white dresser. The furniture in the room was old and beautiful—all finished in antique white. He had an idea.

“Em, how would you feel about moving this stuff to my spare bedroom?” He hoped he hadn’t upset her when she suddenly froze.

“I mean, this is your childhood and I have that empty bedroom. It would make a great room for another kid someday…If we don’t work out—if you decide I’m not the one, I’ll have just stored it for you.”

Emily had heard his offer. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about keeping any of the furniture. It would rot in a storage shed, and she didn’t have room for it in the small one-bedroom house she rented.

She smiled at Logan. “I’d like that very much. I’ll just box up my stuff, and you can take the furniture to your house.”

He returned her smile, relief on his face. He had made her happy. That was all he had wanted to do.

“Emily will you assist me with the pelvic examination in 3A?” Dr. Foster asked as he zipped by her in the hall.

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He didn’t expect an answer because even though Dr. Foster often phrased orders as questions, that was what they were—orders.

It was only her third day back, and she felt like she’d never been gone. The normalcy of her job helped her forget all she’d been through during the past couple of months. It had been nice to see Debbie, Butch, and Willow, who had acted as head nurse while Emily was on leave. She had feared that Willow might resent her once she came back and resumed her duties, but the first thing out of Willow’s mouth was, “Thank goodness you’re back. It’s all yours.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Stanton. I’m Dr. Foster. Emily’s going to help me take a look and see what’s going on with that baby of yours.” Dr. Foster washed his hands and pulled on gloves. “I hear he’s trying to make an early appearance.”

Emily washed her hands and put her gloves on. She smiled reassuringly at the young soon-to-be mother. Dr. Foster was the best obstetrician-gynecologist in town as far as she was concerned.

“And you’re right at thirty-six weeks?” he asked, as he began the examination.

“Will my baby be all right if he’s born now?” she tearfully asked. “I mean, is he big enough?”

“That’s what we’re going to see,” Dr. Foster told her as he slid away. “You can scoot up and make yourself comfortable.” He removed and disposed of his gloves. “Meanwhile, Emily’s going to hook you up to an IV. There’ll be some medicine in it to help you relax and slow those contractions down. It may even stop them.”

“It won’t hurt the baby?”

“He’ll be fine,” the physician assured her. “I’ll be back in to see how you’re doing in a while.”

Emily followed him out and listened as he told her what he wanted done. She soon had Mrs. Stanton—Chrissy, she had asked Emily to call her, lying on the hospital bed as comfortably as she could, IV in place.

“You might get drowsy, Chrissy,” Emily told her. “It’s all right for you to doze off. It’ll help you relax even more. Someone will be coming in to take you for a sonogram before too long, though. That’s just to make sure your little guy’s doing okay in there.”

“Do you have any children?” Chrissy asked her.

Emily finished locking the bed rail in place. “No. I’m not married.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

She smiled. “I have a wonderful boyfriend.”

“Thass good.” Chrissy was already dozing off.

Emily checked the monitor one last time to make sure her vitals looked good before leaving to discover her next task.

“I don’t know what to do with her! She’s locked herself in a stall and won’t come out! I know her arm is broken.” Emily recognized Trevor’s grandmother standing at the nurse’s station, her whole body shaking.

“I know her,” she told Debbie. “What’s going on, Mrs. Ryman?”

“It’s Mrs. Taylor. She fell this morning, and I knew when it happened her arm was broken. It took me all day to get her to come to the hospital. Now she’s locked herself in a bathroom stall and won’t come out.”

“Did you call Logan?”

The older woman nodded. “He was at a site, and his foreman told me he’d let him know to come here as quickly as he could. I just have to get her in here.”

Emily remembered what Logan had told her about his mom hiding in the closet. She looked at Willow.

“Please page Dr. Lysart. Mrs. Taylor suffers from agoraphobia, and I think she’ll respond better to a female doctor. If you’ll keep an eye on Mrs. Stanton in 3A, I’m going to try and talk her into coming back here.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Willow assured her.

“Why don’t you go to the waiting room so you can watch for Logan?” Emily gently suggested to Mrs. Ryman.

“Thank you.” She looked relieved that somebody else was going to take responsibility for her employer.

So, it was a few minutes later that Emily found herself in the ladies’ restroom talking through a closed stall door. She’d grabbed an “Out of Order” sign and left it outside the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Mrs. Taylor, we haven’t met yet, but I’m Emily Scott. Your son Logan and I are very good friends.”

A scuffling noise came from inside the stall. “You’re Logan’s girl. He told me about you.”

“Yes,” Emily answered her. “I’m his girlfriend. And I would never let anything happen to his mother—to you. I promise if you come out and go with me, we’ll walk straight back to a room with nobody else in it. Nobody will stop us or bother you along the way. Then a very nice doctor—a friend of mine—will come in and look at your arm.”

“I don’t like for people to look at me.”

“I know.” Emily kept her voice calm and even. “That’s why you and I are going to go straight back to the room. We won’t even walk past the waiting room, and the only people in the room with you will be me and the doctor.” She hoped Logan would be there before his mom needed x-rays.

“You’re nice. I’m glad you’re Logan’s girl.”

“Thank you.” Was that the sound of the latch being pushed back? “I’m glad I’m his girl, too.”

The door slowly opened, and a woman about Emily’s height with short brown hair a shade lighter than Logan’s and the same brown eyes Emily loved to look into, walked out of the stall.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Emily told her, smiling reassuringly.

“You’re pretty.”

“Thank you. So are you.” Emily gently took the older woman’s uninjured arm. “I’ll tell you what. We’re going out this door and walking really fast so nobody sees us or stops us. Okay?”

Logan’s mom nodded, a look of determination on her face.

Emily, still holding Mrs. Taylor’s arm, pushed open the door and led the other woman out. They walked at a quick pace, and Emily took her through the employees’ entrance straight to an empty examination room. They had made it, unseen and undisturbed.

“Will you sit on the table and wait while I go see if the doctor is here yet?” Emily gently asked.

“You’ll have to help me up there. I think I broke my arm.” She held up her bent left arm, which was bruised, swollen, and to Emily’s trained eyes, indeed most likely broken.

“I can do that.” Once more supporting her good arm, she managed to get Mrs. Taylor onto the table.

“I’ll be right back,” Emily promised before she hurried to the nurse’s station.

“Dr. Lysart is five minutes away,” Willow told her, “and it looks like 3A’s contractions might have stopped.”

“Good. Thank you.” Emily grabbed a blank chart and clipboard. “I’m going to stay with Mrs. Taylor. I’ll just go ahead and get her information. I’m sure her son will be here soon. Send him to 6B.”

“We’re covered. You take care of your boyfriend’s mom.” Emily had told Willow she was dating Logan Taylor, and Willow had evidently put two and two together.

Emily walked back to the room. She asked Logan’s mom for the information necessary for admitting her to the emergency room. She was just getting ready to check on Dr. Lysart again when Logan charged into the room.

“Mom! What did you do?” He rushed to her side.

“I fell.”

Logan turned to Emily expectantly. “ I’m pretty sure her arm is broken. We’re waiting on Dr. Lysart to get here. She’s a friend of mine, a really—”

“I’m here now. She’ll be fine.” He turned away from Emily back to his mom. “You’re safe now, Mom. I’ll take care of you.”

“Logan, she has a broken arm, and she has to be looked at by a doctor. She needs x-rays,” Emily gently explained.

He whirled on her. “I understand. I’ll stay with her while they do all that. We don’t need you anymore.”

Emily’s heart shattered into a million pieces as she turned and blindly walked out of the door and back to the nurses’ station. Dr. Lysart was standing there.

“I understand you’ll be assisting me with this patient.” The doctor spoke warmly to Emily.

Emily mindlessly handed the chart to Debbie, who had just walked up. “I think Debbie better go. I’m taking my break.”

Ignoring Willow’s puzzled expression, Emily walked out of the emergency room, all the way out of the hospital to her car. Once she sat behind the wheel, she lost it. They didn’t need her anymore.
He
didn’t need her anymore. If Logan loved her like he said he did, how could he have so coldly pushed her aside when all she was trying to do was help? Maybe he
didn’t
love her. He was waiting six months until she was strong enough to hear the truth—that he had done all of this out of pity.

Emily had two more hours before her shift was over. She wasn’t going to let Logan Taylor hurt her again. He could only hurt her if she gave him the power. Furiously wiping the tears from her eyes, she got out of the car and walked back into the hospital to her post.

“I’ll take care of Rooms one through four,” she told a still confused Willow. “One of you will have to handle the rest.”

“Mrs. Taylor asked for you,” Willow softly told her.

“I’m sorry, but I’m sure Debbie will do just fine.” She picked up the chart for the patient in Room 1A and went to check on him.

She kept busy for the next two hours and didn’t see Logan or his mother again before she left work for the day.

After Emily showered and changed, she decided to fix herself a light dinner. She was just clearing the table when somebody pounded on her door.

Knowing who it was, she braced herself. She was strong enough to do this. Emily Irene Scott didn’t need Logan Taylor’s pity. In fact, he could stick his pity where the sun didn’t shine.

“I’m so sorry, Em,” were the first words out of his mouth when she opened the door.

“Yes, you are.”

He gave her a bewildered look. “Can I come in so we can talk?”

“I don’t think we
need
to talk. I think you said enough earlier today.” She started to close the door.

“Emily, wait.” He pushed the door open. “Mom told me what you did—how you helped her. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I just went nuts when I saw her there, hurt like that.” Logan managed a shaky smile. “She reamed me out for talking to you like that.”

“You know what I figured out today, Logan?” She was going to lay it out for him.

He didn’t think he was going to like this. “What?”

“
If
you love me like you say you do, you’d
never
be able to talk to me like that. I think everything you’ve said and done has been out of pity. You’re not waiting six months for me to decide for sure I’m in love with you. You’re waiting six months for me to be strong enough to hear the truth. You came when I needed you and didn’t know how to leave.”

“Em, you’re so wrong. I…”

“Well, I’m letting you off the hook.
I
don’t need
you
anymore.” Those stupid tears were falling again despite her resolve.

He shook his head. “I love you, Emily, whether you believe me or not. I don’t know how I can ever make up for snapping at you the way I did today, but I will do whatever it takes. You might not need me, but I need you. Please, Emily, don’t do this.”

Were those tears in his eyes? “You just feel sorry for me.”

“No.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry you lost your mom and dad, but what I feel for you has nothing to do with pity. I
love
you, Emily.” He lowered his voice. “I love you.”

The next thing she knew she was in his arms and he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow. He backed her further into the house, kicking the door closed behind him. His lips slid from her mouth down her neck. His hands were everywhere.

He suddenly froze and took a step back. “Stop me now, Em,” he breathed, “or I won’t be able to.”

“I don’t want you to.” She took his hand and led him into her bedroom. Standing by the bed, she grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, baring his chest. She had always known he was built like this, but seeing him made her weak in the knees.

“Your turn,” he told her, unbuttoning her blouse and pushing it off her shoulders. He pulled her against him, kissing her passionately while he reached behind her to unfasten her bra. When he pulled away, it went with him. She marveled at how right it felt to have her bare chest pressed against his as he kissed her hungrily. He couldn’t believe he was holding her in his arms like this.

Emily was unfastening his button-fly jeans when he thought of something. Swearing softly, he placed his hand over hers, stopping her.

“We can’t, Emily. I don’t have any protection with me.”

“Oh.” Her racing heart sank. “Oh.” She wasn’t on the pill and had never even thought about being on birth control.

She turned and grabbed her blouse, pulling it back on and buttoning it. He stood and watched her for a few moments.

“You are so beautiful, Em.” He pulled her against him, kissing her one more time. “Do you believe me, Emily?” He kissed her again. “That I love you?”