Finding The Way Back To Love (Lakeside Porches 3) (39 page)

As he worked, he scolded her. “I don’t want to think what would have happened, if you’d been alone.”

“I’ve thought about it,” she said. “It didn’t turn out good.”

“I’m ready to lift. My plan is to raise it enough for you to pull your foot out. Ready?”

“Okay.”

He grunted and strained to lift the limb a few inches but lost his hold before she could free her foot. She yelled in pain as the limb dropped.

Tears flooded her face. “It might be broken,” she choked out.

“I’m sorry, honey.” He came back to her and sat on the gravel close to her.

“Maybe we should wait.”

“Definitely, we need to wait. The team will be here soon. They know someone’s in danger out in this cold.” He tucked the parka tighter around her shoulders and neck.

“I heard sirens while you were tearing the branches away. Maybe they’re for us. Do you see anyone?”

“Lights on the path.” He used the flashlight to signal their location. “Need help up here,” he hollered. “They see us.” Back on its perch, the flashlight illuminated Gwen’s face enough that Peter could see the scrapes on her cheekbones and jaw. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead. “Do you have pain anywhere except the ankle and wrist?”

“No.” Her breathing was shallow and quick.

“Did the wrist snap?”

“No. When I fell, I put out my hand to give my head another couple seconds to dodge a big rock. I really just smacked the heel of my hand hard, and held on with my arm muscles as long as I could.”

“Bet that hurt.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to hit my head and lose consciousness, in case I had to phone for help.”

“And did you phone for help?”

“No.”
I wonder where my phone is
. “I saw your lights, and I was afraid you would be buried by the tree, and that’s all I could think about.” Her voice rose with panic. “And then I heard glass breaking and I thought it was the Jeep.”

“Take it easy.” He touched her shoulder, and she calmed. “We’re going to get you out.” Peter stroked her cheek. “The tree was already on the ground when I saw it.”

“All that breaking glass and metal I heard—what was that?”

“Your car.” He rested his hand on her hip. “I only saw it for a second when I came down the road. I was afraid you were in it, buried under the tree.”

Peter swept the flashlight back toward the mound that had been the canopy of a beautiful ash tree. The light picked out something shiny in the debris. “Your rearview mirror,” he told her.

She gasped. Nothing else of the Range Rover was visible.

The EMTs appeared on the road now.

“Did you have any warning?” Peter asked. “Could you have backed up? We could have gone to my place.”

“I thought of that, but I was so mad about the limb, I wanted to haul it out of our way. And then the trees were crashing toward me. I ran downhill for my life.”

“You’re saying you were out of the car when it fell?”

“Yes, I was trying to clear a big limb off the road.”

“Gwen.” He exhaled his frustration. “When there’s a limb down on your path and the wind is blowing straight out of hell, you don’t get out of your car to do battle.”

She grumbled. “You’re the one with the common sense. I’m the one that leaps into the fray to fix things.”

“Well, getting shot taught me a few things about that,” he told her. “You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“I get that. Thanks for rescuing me.”

He chuckled. “Me and two big guys who know what they’re doing.” He stood up to meet the rescue party.

“I’m Jimmy.” The man in the lead shook Peter’s hand. “And you are?”

“Peter. This is Gwen, and that’s her car under the mess. Her foot is caught, as you can see. Possible fracture. I tried to lift the limb myself, but it needs two to lift and one to pull her free.”

“Nice job clearing the way for us. How’s this for a plan? Charlie, you grab the limb to the right of her leg, I’ll grab it on the left. We lift on two. Pete, you slide your girl out on three.”

Gwen screamed on ‘three’ and passed out.

“To guard against delayed shock,” Peter read from the Emergency Room discharge papers, “keep the patient warm and comfortable. Avoid stress. Keep hydrated, preferably with sweet tea and cookies, and rest for forty-eight hours.”

“You made that up,” Gwen challenged with a laugh.

“Don’t even think about being a difficult patient.” He winked.

She lifted her mug to her mouth with her good hand. “I like my tea like my man—hot and sweet.”

“For sprains,” he continued in a stern voice, though the corner of his mouth twitched with a smile. “Rest. Ice. Compression.” He settled against her left side and leaned back against the headboard. “Elevate the affected body parts.” He kissed her left temple. “How are your affected body parts doing?”

“Thank you for all the pillows. Did you have to borrow from Bree’s room?”

“She’ll never know. So rest,” he ordered, “and don’t worry about anything.”

“I do need to tell Haley.”

“I called her from the hospital.”

“You did?”

“And warned her not to go home until the road is cleared and told her you would be here for a week until you can manage crutches and stairs. And, by the way, Gianessa’s bringing something called a knee scooter for you tomorrow.”

“You guys, I am so blessed.”

His mouth was a grim line.

“What?”

“You neglected to tell me your phone was not on your person the whole time you were lying out there with your foot trapped under the tree.”

“Under the limb.”

“Makes no difference. Suppose you’d been alone out there?”

“I know.” Gwen took a big sip. “I could have been lying there injured until I died of hypothermia.” She shuddered.

“Damn straight. And I will stop giving you a hard time, because it’s stressing you out. We can talk about all this tomorrow. Calmly.”

“Peter, I want you to know, I do have someone lined up to straighten out the road, and that work is scheduled for next month. And then—”

“That’s good. And tomorrow or the next day we can line up someone to haul away the debris, including your car.”

“Ugh. I need a new car.”

“But,” he pointed out, “they might recover your phone and purse.” He patted her thigh. “You started to say something else, and I cut you off.”

“What I started to say is I want to live on the cove at Cady’s Point. I saved a building lot there for me.”

He lifted the empty mug from her hands and set it beside him on the nightstand. “That is the perfect place for a house. Beautiful view. Private. Patrolled area. Paved, well-maintained road.” He held her left hand gently.

“I want us to plan that together, Peter.” His breath caught. “For us.”

“I want that, too.” His eyes flashed with desire. “But you need to sleep tonight.” His voice was low and husky. “Tomorrow is soon enough to talk.”

She tried to sit up and turn toward him but fell back against the pillow with a moan.

He lifted her wrist and checked her pulse. “Your heart is racing,” he scolded. “I will take you back to the hospital if it stays that way.”

“Agreed.”

“Time for sleep,” he ordered. “I will stay on my side of the bed.” By the time he tucked the blanket around her, she was asleep. He lay beside her and stretched his arm above her head on the pillow.

“You look good there,” Peter teased.

“Wearing your sister’s robe, with my foot up?” Gwen teased back.

“At my breakfast table.” A warm smile curved his mouth.

“What are you cooking?”

“The Shaughnessy breakfast special. Eggs scrambled with tomatoes and mushrooms. Toast and coffee.”

“I smell cinnamon.”

“It’s cinnamon raisin bread from Paddy O’Donnell’s bakery in Syracuse, the best loaf you’ve ever tasted. I might tell you his story later, if you’re a good patient.”

“Tell me now.”

“First, eat. You’re healing. And we need to talk about us right now.” He carried the skillet to the table and dished up their eggs and vegetables, then returned for the plate of buttered toast and the coffee pot. “Need juice?”

“Nope.” Gwen bit into the toast and savored the butter and spice and warm raisins. “Yum.”

Peter nodded, his attention on her plate of eggs. Each time she started to talk, he pointed to her unfinished breakfast. Once the eggs were gone and only one slice of toast remained, he let her speak.

“I want to start by telling you the truth about my marriage.” Her voice shook.

He peered at her over the rim of his coffee mug. “Okay.”

Thank God Deirdre and I talked it through it already
. Between sips of full-bodied coffee, she related how it had been for her as Jeb’s wife and how she had handled it.

By the end of the telling, Peter’s jaw was tight and his forehead was knit with regret. “I was a fool to think you had an ideal marriage.” Peter exhaled forcefully. “I thought you didn’t tell me anything because you were just too sad to talk about losing him.”

“I let people think that for so many years that I started believing it myself. The whole, disgraceful truth was buried under booze and denial and half a dozen stories that were nothing but lies. Until my trip to London just before Thanksgiving. My friend Lorraine remembered more than I did, and it all came crashing back to me as we talked in her library.”

Peter squared himself to the table and reached across for her good hand. “I’m sorry it was like that for you. You didn’t deserve it.” He caressed her fingers.

“Thank you. Ironically, his death netted me almost nine million dollars. I never spent any of it until I bought the Cady’s Point property for Manda’s holistic center.”

“That was generous, and I think the center will be a big success and a real asset to this area.”

“Justin insists we call it the Forrester Center, which is an honor for my family. My parents would be proud to have their names on a facility that will help people get their lives back on track following a health crisis.” When Peter only nodded, she asked, “What do you think about it?”

“About the Forrester Center? I always thought it was a winning idea.” He shifted in his chair. “But it caught me by surprise when you got involved the way you did.”

“What surprised you about it?”

“The millions, for sure.” He shifted again. “And going off to London like that, making a major real estate deal. That seemed out of character.”

“It was out of character. And I could not have pulled it off without Justin’s coaching and an attorney by my side. But I had to try. The project was stalled, and Gianessa’s recovery and her career were stalled along with it. And my friend Lorraine needed to let go of the property and grow beyond the nightmare of her marriage. So, buying the land was an opportunity to help my good friends and to do something important for the community.”

She took another sip. “Besides, I felt stuck, and doing something out of character, that was both responsible and useful, turned out to be a win for everyone.”

“You were stuck how?”

“I had totally screwed up with you, and I knew I wasn’t interested in anyone else. I knew, in my heart, I wanted to have a life partner and start a family.” She lifted her eyebrows and shrugged. “I couldn’t see how to go forward, and . . .”

“And now?”

“Now I’m sitting across the table from you,”—Gwen gasped as if it was hard to breathe—“and it feels like my future is in your hands.”

“And how do you want your future to be?” There was a glimmer of something in his eyes.
Hope?

“I want to be married to you,” Gwen told him, her eyes wide open. “I want us to raise a few kids, live on Cady’s Point, and walk through life side-by-side.”

Peter’s gaze shifted above her shoulder. He said, “First I need to tell you about Paddy O’Donnell, the baker.” He gave a self-conscious laugh. “If he were eavesdropping right now, he’d be very happy about this conversation.”

Gwen’s cheeks warmed.

He gestured to the loaf of bread on the counter. “Paddy baked this bread and many loaves like it, going way back into my childhood. It’s a long story.” He stood up. “Why don’t I make us some more toast and a fresh pot of coffee?”

“Okay, then, how is the third Saturday of February for them?” Peter asked, pencil in hand as he stood beside the calendar on his refrigerator.

Gwen squinted at the barely legible notes she’d made with her left hand during her phone conversation with Gianessa. “They’re free that day.” She beamed up at him.

“And you’re okay with just asking Gianessa and Justin to stand up with us in front of the Justice of the Peace at City Hall? No one else in attendance?”

“I am. And you’re okay with a private dinner at The Manse for close family and a few close friends?”

“Including Rick and Foster, right?” At Gwen’s nod, he said, “Then, yes. As long as we can get the same menu as the chief’s dinner dance last summer.”

“I checked, and we can. What kind of cake?”

“Makes no difference to me, as long as you love it.”

“Vanilla cake with strawberries and whipped cream?”

Peter squinted.

Gwen winced. “You can say no.”

“I’m thinking. Remind me what you’ll be wearing.” He winked.

“Okay.” She laughed. “I’ll wear the dress I wore to the chief’s dinner dance.”

“You know, that cake sounds delicious.” He moved in for a kiss.

“Why is that dress so important to our wedding?”

“Because I’ve been fantasizing all these months about removing it from your beautiful body on our wedding night.”