Raspberries and Vinegar (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 1) (14 page)

Once that had been acceptable. Desirable. But did he want to go back to it?

Enough thinking. Too much, even
. Zach cranked his favorite radio station and reached for his first burger. Three hours to the farm.

Chapter 12

Jo awoke crumpled on the forest floor. Pangs of agony knifed through her left arm, nearly sending her back under the waves. She blinked, trying to focus on the rain slithering down the yellowed grasses inches from her nose.

Oh, the pain. She clenched her teeth and tried to shift off her arm. Broken. It had to be. Where else could such torture come from? Nauseous dizziness threatened to pull her under but she hung on, trying to take stock. Head? Pounding. Back? Brutal. Hands? Raw. Core temperature? Dropping. Water from the rain-soaked ground saturated her jeans and jacket. She had to get to safety.

So, she couldn’t use her left hand to brace her body. Not a big deal. Jo rolled onto her right hip and pushed herself to sitting. Her head swam and blackness shoved at the edges of her consciousness. Bile shot up her throat. She choked it back, barely.

This wasn’t going to work. Must be a concussion.

To get help required her cell phone. She had one, but where? Zipped into her jacket pocket. Thankfully, her right one. Jo struggled to pull it out, gritting her teeth at the fresh onslaught of agony that came from shifting her position. She slumped and closed her eyes, fingers wrapping around the cell, fighting for consciousness.

She could pass out again after she’d called for help. Not before. She wouldn’t allow it. But who to call? Sierra and Claire were off to
Montana for the day, too far away to help. 9-1-1, then. Jo lifted the device and pressed the phone button, then the three digits. Nothing. Of course. No signal here under the trees, up against the hillside. How many hours until her roommates got home? Would they have any idea where to find her when they did arrive, likely way after dark? She could die of exposure out here, but God wouldn’t let that happen. Would He? He’d given her a job to do and she wasn’t finished. She’d be okay. She just needed to stay strong.

Nothing to do but wait.

Maybe pray, too.

In everything give thanks.

U
m, yeah. Easy to say. A broken arm would put her in a cast for at least six weeks. And then it would be atrophied and take more weeks to rebuild the muscle in it. By then the summer would be half over.

Jo had
plans
. So much to do. The garden, the house, visiting the families who’d agreed to grow vegetables for the local dinner. She had no time for this.

Be still and know that I am God.

She practiced that. Honest. At least fifteen minutes a day. She’d open her Bible, read a chapter, think about it a bit, and pray. It was like taking a coffee break in the middle of a workday. Rush, rush, rush. Quick, relax for a few minutes. Then go again.

Tears burned the backs of her eyelids.

***

Z
ach pulled into the driveway, but Mom’s car wasn’t there. Quilting bee night? He couldn’t remember. Domino barked from the backyard, so Zach rounded the house to let the pup out of his run. For once he’d stayed put. Old Pete’s tail thumped against the veranda planks as Zach went by. Not much ruffled the old dog anymore.

Domino, on the other hand, whined and leaped at the gate as Zach approached, then bounded out when the latch released. He ripped a couple circles around Zach then trotted toward the driveway, head high.

Zach laughed. “Hey, boy. You trying to tell me something?” One thing was certain, if he did get that job at East Spokane, he’d miss this pup something crazy. None of the dogs had wriggled this far under his skin since he’d been a little tyke, and Chig had been his constant companion.

Domino plopped down in a puddle to scratch his ear then turned his brown eyes on Zach. He jumped up and whimpered.

“Oh, all right, then. You’ve been locked up all day, is that it? You just want to get some exercise?”

Domino let out a sharp yelp.

“Just give me a minute to get my rain jacket and a hat. Sit, Domino. Stay.” Zach jogged up the steps, over Old Pete, and into the house where he swapped outerwear. When he came out a minute later, the pup was gone.

“Domino!” Zach bellowed. “Come.”

The pup barked from down the driveway.

Zach shook his head and pulled his hood up against the gusty rain. A cup of hot coffee would be most welcome when he got back into the house. Probably a shower. Definitely dry clothes. The things he did for the animals in his life.

By the time Zach got to the end of the drive, Domino had swung a left and was loping down the road. Zach grimaced. If the mutt thought it was a good day to visit Jo — after the fiasco yesterday — he was sadly mistaken. But he trotted on past Grandma’s former driveway, hesitating only to piddle on some bushes along the ditch, and Zach breathed a sigh of relief.

So complicated. He didn’t even want to think about Jo.

At the end of the pavement, Domino zigzagged into the forest.

Zach shoved his hands deep into his pockets and hunched against the splatter of water dumping off every branch he knocked. They were impossible to avoid. But the pup sniffed every bush and rolled in every hollow, so Zach just trudged behind, glancing up occasionally to see where Domino was leading him this time.

The pup barked in the distance, and Zach jerked his head up. How had Domino run so far away without him noticing? He whistled, but the pup didn’t return, just increased the frenzy of his barking. Shadows lengthened as Zach increased his stride, following the auditory trail. He only hoped the pup hadn’t cornered a porcupine or skunk, but surely the tempo of Domino’s yelps would have amplified by now if that were the case.

Zach broke into a familiar small clearing a few minutes later. A dark lump lay unmoving at the foot of the golden willow that supported his childhood tree house.

***

A dog barked frantically.

A sloppy tongue wiped her cheek.

A warm nose burrowed in the crook of her neck, nudging insistently.

Consciousness was a slippery thing. Jo fought to gain it, but the agony of her arm pushed her back under. It was easier in that fuzzy place, where she was warm and happy and playing with a black and white puppy. But that pup seemed to be in reality, too. He insisted
she pay attention to him here, where it was cold and wet and painful.

“Jo?”

A hand — Zach’s? — brushed hair off her forehead. “Jo? Are you okay? What happened?” The fingers slid down her cheek, pressed against the curve of her throat for a few seconds. “Thank God.”

Jo struggled to open her eyes, but her heavy lids wouldn’t cooperate. Something rustled, and then weight on her body pressed heat closer. A jacket, maybe.

“No cell coverage. Domino, lie down. Stay.” Zach’s voice came from a distance.

The dog’s length stretched out tight against Jo. A slip of the tongue warmed her cheek for an instant, and she tried to smile. Footsteps crashed away through the forest then all lay silent.

Chapter 13

Whatever they’d given Jo for pain helped. Part of her knew she should hate lying immobilized on a crisp white bed, pressed against the pillows like she weighed two hundred pounds, but she was too exhausted to care.

Wh
en her eyes next drifted open, the room had dimmed. Still, there seemed to be someone at her bedside. She blinked, trying to focus.

Zachary?

“Jo, you’re awake.”

Even though much of today was missing from her head — gaps for the ambulance ride, the x-rays, and the surgery — she distinctly recalled yesterday. She and Zach hadn’t parted on the best of terms.

A nurse bustled in, took Jo’s vitals, gave her a sip of water, and adjusted the dials on her IV. “If you need anything, press the button.” She moved on to the neighboring bed.

Jo couldn’t avoid Zach any longer.

He looked so good in the semi-darkness of the hospital room. His dark hair was tousled as though he’d run his hands through it a few too many times and his eyes were lined with worry.

“You. It was you who found me.”

“Domino, actually.” He turned a Styrofoam coffee cup around in his hands.

St
yrofoam. If she could summon up caring, that would bother her.

“I got home from Coeur d’Alene and he begged for a walk, even though it was rainy and cold.”

“I’m glad.”

His eyes traced her face, warming her. “Me, too. The exposure wasn’t good for you. You were chilled right through.”

“Sierra?”

“There was no one at the trailer. I got cell reception practically on your doorstep so I called the ambulance, but I don’t know where your friends are.”

Jo’s brain tried to function. “Near Kalispell. An herb farm.”

“What’s her number? I’ll call for you if you like.” He pulled his cell out of his pocket, and Jo recited Sierra’s number. A moment later he shook his head and put the device away. “She’s out of the service area.”

Jo closed her eyes. So many places with poor reception in the North Country. But Zach was here. A miracle, after the way she’d smacked him. She turned to look at him.

He set the coffee down and reached for her hand, the one that wasn’t immobilized by pins and a cast.

Warmth from the contact trickled up her arm and she couldn’t help gripping back, at least until her palm screamed in agony and she winced.

Zach pulled away, a hard line settling on his jaw. “Sorry.”

“No.” He needed to understand. Jo turned her hand so he could see the raw flesh. “Cedar splinters.”

With gentleness, he slid his hand under hers, raising it slightly to get a closer look at the raw flesh. It hadn’t warranted more than salve once they’d pulled out all the shards of wood.

“From the tree house railing?”

Jo nodded. Her cheeks felt as inflamed as her palm. Good thing it was nearly dark in the room. She hadn’t really planned to tell Zach she’d found his childhood hangout, but had that been her intention, she’d have chosen a different method.

“That deck is awfully slick when it’s wet. I remember that.” His eyes examined Jo’s and he chewed on the inside of his lip. Was she imagining it, or had the color on his cheeks deepened, too? “Gabe and I built that the summer we were ten. We’d stop at Grandma’s trailer and she’d give us homemade cookies to take up with us. We were the coolest kids around.”

Somehow the image of a tow-headed Zach seemed endearing. “What kind of games did you play up there?”

He looked past Jo and grinned as he slid down memory lane. “Cowboys and Indians. Star Wars. Everything in between.” He met her gaze and shrugged. “We had good imaginations.”

Jo closed her eyes. “I always wanted a tree house.” Grandpa had been going to build her one the summer Mom met Brad. Then they’d moved to California and the end of her universe. She’d never seen her grandfather alive again.

“You have one now.” Zach’s thumb rubbed the back of Jo’s hand.

She’d forgotten he still held it. Probably she should pull away, but that would require more energy than she could muster as sleep tugged at her edges. “But it’s yours.”

There was a slight hesitation. “I bequeath it to you.”

That nurse must have dialed up more sleep meds. Jo wanted to stay awake and talk to Zach here in the absence of... whatever they’d fought about yesterday. But inertia claimed her.

His whispered words were the last thing she heard before succumbing. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

***

Zach’s stomach growled, but he couldn’t bear to leave Jo’s side. What if she woke up and he was gone? He couldn’t break the promise he’d breathed to her. Not when he’d seen the slight smile that creased her face as she drifted off. He picked up the coffee and tossed back the cold dregs.
Bleh
.

He stretched then wandered over to the window. Wynnton’s lights twinkled all around him, though not as many as he could see from his apartment in Coeur d’Alene. This town that lay between was the north county seat. He could be thankful Jo’s condition wasn’t deemed critical enough for her to be sent on to Coeur d’Alene, like his dad had been.

Dad. Mom. Jo’s roommates. Zach glanced back at Jo, her lips parted in sleep. He had some phone calls to make, and he didn’t want to wake her up doing it from here. Not that she’d likely hear him, but whatever.

H
e slipped out into the brightly lit corridor and nearly ran a nurse over.

“Zach?”

He jerked in surprise and took a closer look. “Bethany! You’re on shift tonight?”

“Yes, just came on at seven.” She shifted her clipboard and glanced at the closed door behind him. “You know Josephine Shaw?”

Z
ach nodded. “She and her friends bought my grandmother’s land.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Bethany cocked her head and grinned up at him. “So how come you’re the one sitting here with her?” Bethany’s elbow nudged his ribs. “You like her?”

Now this was the disadvantage of Jo’s nurse being his childhood friend and the wife of his best pal. He tried for an easy grin. “I’ll never tell.”

She rolled her eyes and reached for the door, but Zach caught her hand. “Listen, I need to call her roommates, but what do I tell them? How long will she be kept in?”

Bethany checked her clipboard. “Well, they had to put a pin in her arm. If all goes well, she’ll probably be released on Friday.”

Zach ran his fingers through his hair.

“She’s going to sleep for awhile now, Zach. Probably all night. It’s the best way to promote healing.”

“I promised I’d be here when she wakes up.”

B
ethany’s mouth twitched, and Zach groaned silently.
Nice move, Nemesek
.

“Good thing I’m sworn to patient confidentiality.” She tilted her head, her eyes twinkling. “But you’re not a patient. Does Gabe know?”

He will now
. Zach met her gaze and shook his head slowly, then realized he was admitting there was something to know. His stomach grumbled. Maybe he could blame his vulnerability on hunger.