Walking on Air (37 page)

Nan’s heart squeezed. Then, as the children’s words sank in, hope unfurled like a bud opening to the sun.

Nan scrambled to her feet. Flanking her, both children grabbed her arms to help get her steady on her feet.
Not dead.
Nan broke into a run. Not releasing their holds on her, both kids raced along beside her. When they hit the boardwalk at the corner of Oak and Main, their bare feet made loud thumps on the icy planks.

Men crowded the waiting room. Nan scanned the familiar faces of fellow business owners, but she could ascertain nothing from their stoic expressions. Lifting her chin, she tried to push through their ranks to reach the inner door, but Mr. Redmond caught her back. “You mustn’t go in there just yet! Doc’s working on them both right now. It’s no place for a lady.”

Nan realized that she stood before these fellows in nothing but her nightgown and wrapper, which hung open with the sash drooping uselessly at her hips.
Lady?
She no longer cared to be a lady; she wanted to be Gabriel’s
wife
. She planted a hand on Redmond’s chest. “Let go and get out of my way! I want to see my husband!”

“Mrs. Valance, I can’t allow—”

Allow.
That single world set off white sparkles inside Nan’s head, and no one in the room ever found out what Burke Redmond couldn’t allow. Every bit of ladylike behavior Nan had ever learned fell away from her like a discarded cloak. This man was trying to prevent her from going to Gabriel. Reacting instinctively, she brought up her right knee forcefully and felt it connect. Redmond made a clogged sound, like a turkey whose feathers had been violently pulled, and released her at once, staggering against the wall. Nan spared him not a glance and stepped into the next room.

Doc glanced up from where he was working over Pete Raintree’s thigh. His spectacles rode low on his bony nose. Mrs. Peterson stood slightly behind him, holding surgical implements in her hand. The patient appeared to be unconscious, whether from near death or a pad soaked in chloroform, Nan didn’t know. Nor did she give a flip.

“Why on
earth
are you working on
him
when my husband needs you more?” she demanded.

Doc smiled wearily. “Don’t count me as a total fool. I worked on your husband first, and all he really needed was some flushing out and stitching up. He’s out cold, and he’s lost some blood, but he’s in no danger of dying unless infection sets in, and I don’t expect that to occur. The bullet hit a harmonica in his shirt pocket. Cracked the ivory, glanced off, and went in way to the left of his heart. Missed anything vital, thank God, and basically cut a trench through his underarm before it came out the back side. He’ll have a mighty sore chest and arm for a week or two, but it’s not a life-threatening wound. Should heal up just fine. But this young feller’s bleeding like a stuck pig.”

“But—” Nan broke off to drag in a bracing breath and moisten her dry lips. “It hit Gabriel right over his heart! And I felt the blood pouring out.”

“Bleeding hard is a good thing in this case. Cleans out the wound. He’ll be weak from it, but a strong man like him should bounce back pretty quick.” Doc inclined his head toward the other table. “Grab a chair. You can sit with him if you like. While I was stitching him up, he started to come around, so I had to put him back under. He’ll probably wake up madder than a badger tangled up in a briar patch. You’d better take a load off your feet while you can, because he’ll be a handful when you take him home.”

“Home?” Nan said the word as if it were one she’d never heard.

“Heck, yes,
home
.” Doc shook his head. “I’m not keeping him here. He’ll be hurt only enough to be pesky, and I’d a whole lot rather he pester
you
.”

Nan rushed over to the table where Gabriel lay covered to midchest by a white sheet. Tears stung her eyes when she saw the rise and fall of his breathing. He was
alive
. Pete Raintree’s bullet had missed its mark this time. She didn’t understand, but right then she didn’t care. Gabriel was alive.

Taking her husband’s limp hand in both of hers, Nan lifted it to her cheek. The warmth of his bent knuckles against her wet skin was the most wonderful thing she’d ever felt. Her plot to save Gabriel’s life had worked!

Only, even as that thought shot through Nan’s mind, she knew it wasn’t true. Despite all her contrivances, Raintree’s bullet had hit Gabe in the chest. The string of events leading up to that moment had all been altered because of her scheming, but even so, the ending had been exactly the same,
except
for one small detail: Gabriel had been carrying a gift of love in his shirt pocket, a small harmonica inlaid on both sides with carved ivory, given to him for Christmas by a young girl who’d come to worship the ground he walked on.

“It’s a
miracle
,” Nan whispered to her unaware husband. “God gave us a miracle.”

Clinging to Gabriel’s hand, Nan wept with joy and sent up silent prayers of thanks to a God she’d lost faith in for a short while. She would never make that mistake again. Wondrous things happened only
through
Him, and she’d been a complete goose.

•   •   •

Gabe jerked awake. He stared stupidly up at a cedar-plank ceiling. There was amber light, but he couldn’t tell where it came from. And, oh, man, his chest hurt like hell on a rampage. That sure hadn’t happened the first time around. He blinked to clear his vision. He was in a room, stretched out on his back on a hard, narrow bed. Definitely not in a shack this time, but he still saw no pearly gates.

“So, you’re finally awake.”

Gabe knew that voice, and it didn’t belong to any angel. “Doc?” he croaked. “What the hell . . . ? Are you . . . Where am I?”

“Gabriel!” Suddenly Nan’s pale face appeared above him. She looked like death warmed over as she cupped a cool hand to his cheek. “Oh, Gabriel, I thought you’d never come around.”

“What are you two doing here?” Gabe demanded. Despite the pain it caused him, he pushed up on his elbow. “Are you dead, too?
Dammit
. Those angels can’t get anything right! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

Doc came over to push Gabe back down onto the bed. “Don’t be alarmed, Mrs. Valance. This happens sometimes after a dose of chloroform. A patient awakens agitated and a bit confused.”

“I’m not confu—” Gabe broke off.
I’m not dead.
He stared hard at Nan for a moment to be sure she was real. Then he shifted his gaze to Doc and looked past the physician at Mrs. Peterson. “Sorry, ma’am. I think I forgot myself and swore.”

Mrs. Peterson smiled and pushed her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose. “No worries at all, Mr. Valance. I’m pleased as punch to see that you’re rallying, just as my husband predicted.”

In a daze of disbelief, Gabe listened to a summary of what had happened a few hours ago on Main. He was particularly surprised to hear that Pete Raintree had survived and now occupied the other treatment table.

“Only a flesh wound in his thigh. Luckily, I’m a fairly good shot. The missus and I used to live in California, where rattlesnakes were thick, so I got a goodly amount of practice with my pistol.”

“
You
shot me?”

That was Raintree’s voice, Gabe realized, and he sounded hale and hearty. Well, not hale and hearty, exactly, but definitely alive and unhappy. Maybe even insulted.

“Ah, so you’re awake, too. I never time it exactly right with that blasted chloroform. I hoped you’d be out for a while longer.” Doc circled his wife to return to his other patient. “Yes, it was me who shot you, and you’d better be glad of it. My pistol holds small rounds, and I hit where I aim. The bullet did some damage, I confess, but you’d be dead if any of those men had taken you down with a rifle. Instead they just shot the ground all around you to make their point.”

“First you shoot me, and then you patch me up? The people in this town are plumb crazy.” Raintree sat up, bunching the sheet over his groin. “Shit, I’m buck nekked and there’s females in here. Where are my pants? I’m gettin’ the hell out of here. It might be catchin’.”

Doc gestured toward his wife. “My lovely assistant gave them a quick mend, but you’ll be needing a clean pair before you leave town.”

“My stuff’s at the hotel.” Sheet now draped around his hips, the younger man slid off the table. “Ach!
Jesus!
That ain’t no little hole you put in me,
Doc
. I’m gonna be a gimp.”

“No. But you will be sore for a few weeks. It’ll take some time for that thigh muscle to heal.”

Raintree snatched his pants from Mrs. Peterson and hobbled into what Gabe presumed was a dressing closet. Gabe didn’t envy the other man the life he would have if he didn’t mend his ways, but he was jealous as hell that he wasn’t the one dressing to leave.

“How long do I have to stay here?” he asked Doc.

“As soon as your head feels clear, you can go on home. It’s Christmas, after all, and I think Mrs. Valance is perfectly capable of seeing to your needs, few as they will be.” The physician assumed his professional mien. “Lots of fluids, plenty of rest, and
no
lifting anything over ten pounds with the injured arm for at least six weeks. You got off very lucky. It’s mostly only a flesh wound, but your ribs took a hard hit, and your chest muscles were scored by the bullet. They need time to completely heal.”

“My head’s clear.” Actually it was anything but. Gabe didn’t feel woozy, just a little dizzy, but he felt an urgent need to be outside breathing fresh air. As for his head being clear, right now he was confused as hell. He was glad to see he still wore his britches, but his shirt and boots had vanished. “Where are my duds?”

Nan helped Gabe put on his boots. Then she produced one of his black shirts. “Christopher brought it over. Your Christmas shirt is ruined, I’m afraid.”

Gabe’s chest was wrapped, but his left arm hadn’t been anchored to his side. He winced as he slipped on the shirt, then stood still while Nan buttoned it for him. Moments later, they stood outside on a snow-covered boardwalk. Old footprints were already filling with fresh flakes, Gabe noticed. He dragged in a deep breath and looked incredulously toward Main, where he’d been destined to die a second time. He was so tired his legs felt wobbly, but from someplace deep within him, a desperate energy radiated up through his belly and into his chest. He yearned to shout and laugh. Only, what if this was only temporary, and the angels could show up at any moment to fetch him?

“I’m not supposed to be here,” he said softly.

Nan hugged his right arm and pressed her cheek against his sleeve. “Oh, yes, you are,” she murmured. She looked up at Gabe with those beautiful silver eyes that never failed to make his heart quicken. “In fact, you are precisely where you are supposed to be, Gabriel: here with me.”

“But—”

“No buts.” She produced his Christmas harmonica from her cloak pocket. “There was a last-minute change of plan in heaven, I think. It was decided that you needed to remain here with all the people who need you. I wholeheartedly approve of that choice. Perhaps you are still only on loan to me, but the same holds true for everyone we love. We should take for granted not a single moment.”

Gabe accepted the badly dented harmonica with his right hand, turning it this way and that. The story of what had occurred was forever chiseled in the beautiful ivory. Laney’s gift to him had stopped the bullet that should have killed him. A tingling sensation worked its way up his spine. He tipped his head back to stare up at the sky. Snowflakes drifted into his eyes and melted on his cheeks. The crisp air was laced with wonderful smells coming from kitchens all over town. It was Christmas Day, and he was still alive.

Weak from blood loss and almighty sore in his chest and arm, Gabe had to walk slowly toward home and pause often. Second-story windows popped open along Main Street, and familiar faces grinned down at him and Nan.

“Merry Christmas!” was the repeated refrain. “Good to see you on your feet, Valance!”

Nan waved and returned the good wishes. Gabe had only enough strength to smile. When he felt better, he would visit every business owner to express his gratitude for their unfathomable support and loyalty during one of the darkest minutes of his life.

Pausing to rest again just across the street from Nan’s shop, Gabe directed his gaze to the upstairs sitting room window. He wasn’t surprised to see Tyke, Laney, and Christopher pressed in next to the tree, all waving madly at him.

“You know what just occurred to me?” Gabe whispered to Nan.

She nuzzled his arm with her cheek. “No, what?”

“I wasn’t sent back to save you—or Christopher—or Tyke.”

Nan leaned back slightly to search his face. “Why, then? You definitely wrought wondrous changes in my life.”

Gabe closed his eyes, enjoying the fabulous sensations of the snowflakes landing on his skin and the warmth of his wife pressed to his side. “It was me. All along, I was supposed to save myself, Nan.” He turned to take in her sweet, precious face. “I was the lost soul.” The truth of that sank deep into Gabe’s heart. “They didn’t tell me that, because it was a lesson I needed to learn by myself. Those stupid mandates? No wonder I questioned the rightness of them. All along, the angels wanted me to break the rules and put myself at risk. It was a test, and I damned near failed it!”

Ah, but you didn’t fail
,
a deep voice whispered in Gabe’s ear.
You did well, Gabe. We are very pleased.

Gabe jerked. Nan flashed him a startled look.

“It’s a fine time for you to finally show up again!” Gabe said loudly.

“
What?
”
Nan cried.

The angel Gabriel laughed softly.
God be with you, Gabe. Enjoy your life, but live it well this time. I’ll give you only one last bit of advice: Always listen to your heart.

Gabe looked down at Nan, who frowned up at him. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

“Did I hear what?”

Gabe sighed. “I figured you’d say that.” He listened for a moment to be sure nothing more would be whispered; the angel Gabriel tended to be something of a chatterbox. When he heard nothing, he encircled his wife’s shoulders with his uninjured arm and stepped off the boardwalk. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ve got a family waiting and the rest of Christmas to celebrate.”