Washed Away (3 page)

“The animals are going crazy,” Noah said. “I know that’s not much to go on. I mean, they always get upset by storms, and I’m used to them acting weird at times for no reason, but you should hear them back at the clinic, Mitch. They’re climbing the cages, pacing like crazy. Look at what’s just happened to Blaze, and it’s not only him. I’ve had a couple more farmers calling to tell me the animals are starting to panic. They’re acting just as they did last time a big storm headed this way.”

“It’s
not
heading this way, though.” Mitch shook his head.

His voice was firm, but something in his eyes told Noah that the chief didn’t believe his own words.

“I’ve just been on to the weather bureau, and they’re still convinced it’s heading for Corpus Christi.”

“
Still
convinced? So you’ve already been on to the bureau and told them that you’re worried.” When Mitch didn’t answer, Noah persisted. “Which means you’re thinking along the same lines as me, doesn’t it.”

“Yep.”

“Damn, we’ve got the school filling with evacuees from Corpus Christi, we’ve got busloads still heading in….”

“And my daughter’s out there.”

Mitch never played the emotion card, and seeing the chief’s worried eyes, Noah felt as if he had been hit in the chest with an iron fist.

“What do you want me to do, Mitch?” Noah respected Mitch, and if there was anything he could do to help, then Noah would do it. “Do you want me to call the bureau, tell them how the animals are reacting?”

He half expected Mitch to laugh, to tell him that the bureau wasn’t about to listen to some veterinarian with a half-baked idea that his animals were talking to him, but when Mitch gave a worried nod, Noah’s heart sank.

“It’s worth a try.”

It took forever for Noah to get through. No doubt half of Turning Point was trying to contact the bureau, as well. These people knew their land, knew the shifts in the weather. They’d been through enough hurricanes and floods to know when trouble was in the air, and it was in the air now, Noah could feel it. The rain was pelting down and the wind howled angrily; even inside the fire station Noah was forced to shout into the phone just to be heard.

“What did they say?” Mitch asked as Noah replaced the receiver in its cradle.

“That by their calculations we’ve got nothing to worry about. That we’re to carry on with the evacuation protocol as outlined.”

“Damn!” Mitch banged his fist down on the desk in exasperation. “We’re like sitting ducks. The storm’s getting worse by the minute, I’ve got teams out there doing rescues. I’ve even had an emergency team flown
in
to the area, when I should have been getting everyone the hell out. I’ve sent them on rescues—”

“You didn’t know at the time the storm was heading
this way,” Noah said. “We still don’t know for sure, Mitch.” Taking a couple of breaths, he willed himself to stay calm. There was no point losing their heads. “We still don’t,” Noah said again, but more firmly this time, and Mitch nodded back, his face taut with tension but back in full control now.

“Noah, I know your animals mean everything to you. And I know that at times like this you’re supposed to be at the clinic….”

“They’re not humans, Mitch.” Noah knew what was coming. He loved his animals and his old house that was attached to the sparkling modern clinic he had built from the ground up. The veterinary clinic was his life. Every waking moment of his day was filled with caring for animals. But he was highly skilled and trained in medical procedures, and if he and Mitch were right and the storm was heading this way, then Noah knew that his skills would be put to better use right here in town.

Saving human lives.

“I’m going back to the clinic, Mitch. I’ll secure the animals that I’ve got in the van and make sure the rest are okay, then I’ll lock up and come straight back to town.”

“I hate to ask this of you, Noah.”

“You didn’t ask.” Noah gave a wry smile. “I offered. Let’s just hope I’m not needed. Let’s just hope we’re both worrying about nothing.”

“Let’s hope, huh?”

Noah was running toward the exit now, racing to get back to the clinic and tend to the animals so he could
return to town and help. But something stopped him at the door, a feeling he couldn’t identify.

“What’s up, Noah?” Mitch asked, coming over to him.

Noah stood there, eyeing the rows of equipment all neatly set up, and the sense of foreboding that had niggled now, churned his stomach.

“If you didn’t know the area, Mitch, didn’t know just how bad the storms and floods can be here, what would you do?”

“Find out the hard way, I guess.” Mitch started to joke, but when he realized Noah was serious, he changed tack. “There’re announcements every few minutes on the radio, Noah. I’ve got teams out there guiding people to the evacuation centers. Even if you didn’t know the area, you’d soon figure out what was coming and find somewhere safe.”

“I guess so.”

“What’s on your mind, Noah?” Mitch asked.

“I don’t know.” Noah gave a shrug, embarrassed to find Mitch eying him with concern. How could he explain to this down-to-earth guy this strange fear that seemed to be clutching his heart?

It wasn’t just his belief there was a storm heading this way that was making him feel so edgy. He thought of those velvet brown eyes that had held his for a moment in time.

Chocolate Girl was out there in a town that was turning more dangerous by the minute, and for reasons he couldn’t rationalize even to himself, it terrified the hell out of him.

“I’
M THE LOCAL VET
!”
Pulling a face, Cheryl did a pale imitation of Noah’s voice as she drove angrily along. Even with a few miles safely between them, she was still stinging from the encounter at the gas station, still smarting from the
local vet’s
remarks as well as her own part in the exchange. She wished she could hit the rewind button on that awful conversation. Why hadn’t she just turned and said “No problem” when Dr. Perfect jumped the queue?

That was what normal people did. Cheryl sighed. That was exactly what her response would have been two years ago: she would have shrugged and given an easy smile, bitten her tongue over a minor annoyance, instead of charging like a bull at a red flag, provoking confrontation…erecting barriers.

It was almost second nature to her now, putting up protective screens around her heart the second she felt her guard was down. One look at the local vet and her guard had fallen around her ankles like a pair of panties without elastic. Good-looking, friendly and able to deflect her barbs—a heady combination, and the very last thing she needed right now. The very last thing she
needed
full stop,
Cheryl thought, forcibly pushing all thoughts of the handsome stranger out of her mind. Pulling over to the side of the road, she checked her map. The directions and landmarks that had seemed so straightforward when Mitch had given them to her were almost useless now with the wipers going at full tilt and visibility down to near zero.

If the weather had been bad an hour ago, it was dire now.

She had to be near her destination, Cheryl reasoned, running a finger along the map, following her journey from Turning Point. There was the garage where she’d filled up the Jeep, there was the crossroad where she’d swung left, and over there…Wiping the side window with the sleeve of her coat, Cheryl glanced over at the swollen river gushing rapidly alongside the road, its dirty gray surf rolling more like waves on an ocean, before she turned back to the map. She’d followed the instructions to the letter, so where the hell was the farmhouse? She thought about calling Mitch, but decided to leave that as a last resort. Mitch didn’t have time to hold her hand today. Maybe she could wave down a passing car. But knowing her luck, it would be that smug vet that stopped to help. His already overinflated ego would be pumped up a touch further when he saw the scrape she was in….

“Stop it,” Cheryl scolded herself. Why was she allowing herself to dwell on something so irrelevant? Wiping down the windows again, she was about to reach for the phone and admit she was hopelessly lost, when
a driveway she could have sworn hadn’t been there a couple of moments ago appeared in her sideview mirror. Cheryl allowed herself a triumphant smile.

She’d made it on her own!

“T
HANK YOU SO MUCH
for coming out to us.”

As Beth ushered her into the hallway, the first thing to hit Cheryl was the delicious smell of home baking.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” Beth said. “I know how busy everyone is today.”

“It is Beth, isn’t it?” Cheryl asked, shaking the woman’s hand briefly. “I’m Cheryl Tierney. Mitch told me you’ve got a little guy in a lot of pain who needs to be seen.”

“I do. His name’s Flynn.”

“Flynn.” Cheryl smiled at the small boy lying on the sofa as Beth showed her through to the living area. The smell of baking gave way to that delicious new-baby smell, the powdery, milky scent of innocence. Cheryl glanced over to the crib in the corner. A tiny precious bundle lay sleeping quietly there. She turned back to the boy. His arm was elevated on a cushion, his green eyes staring up at her, and for a tiny guilt-tinged moment, Cheryl felt something so alien it took a second to register. The feeling that seemed to reach out and knot her stomach in one single-handed motion was jealousy. If Cheryl had made a blueprint of her life ten years ago, this was where she would have liked to be at the ripe old age of thirty-one.

At home with her babies.

Not a visiting nurse, frozen to the core, hair plastered to her scalp. Not a newly divorced, slightly brittle career woman, with a fitness regime that would rival that of any sports professional. Okay, Turning Point wasn’t exactly New York, and her ex-husband Joe was a lawyer rather than a firefighter, but the home Beth had created had Cheryl’s throat tightening. Long suppressed dreams momentarily surfaced as she glimpsed the life she had thought she’d be leading, and she felt a pang of homesickness for a city she still missed and a family that had fallen apart.

Oh, she’d fallen in love with Courage Bay. She’d embraced the healthy outdoor lifestyle with open arms, joined a gym within a few weeks of arriving and shopped till she’d dropped on rather too many occasions. Fashion was a newly discovered passion of Cheryl’s, now that her salary wasn’t tied up in Joe’s education. And she loved the challenges of her work as a trauma nurse at Courage Bay Hospital.

But as happy as she was, as fulfilled as her life might be, every now and then her loss hit her as if it had all happened only yesterday. Anything could set her off. An elderly couple walking hand in hand along the beach reminded her of her parents, a hotshot lawyer on a TV show resembled her ex-husband Joe, a baby sleeping in its pram recalled lost dreams. And now a seven-year-old boy named Flynn, with green eyes and blond hair….

“Hi, Flynn.” Cheryl smiled at him, pushing her own feelings aside, remembering in an instant why she was here. “My name’s Cheryl.”

“Are you a doctor?” he asked in a lisping voice.

His two front teeth were missing, and his eyes were so suspicious Cheryl found herself smiling.

“No,” she answered. “There wasn’t a doctor free to come out, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with me. I’m a trauma nurse.”

“What’s that?”

Cheryl didn’t mind the questions a bit; at least they took Flynn’s mind off his injury as she gently examined it. “Well, I work in the emergency department of a hospital in Courage Bay, California.”

“So you see lots of injured people, then?” Flynn asked his eyes widening. “Do you see guts hanging out and legs falling off?”

“Flynn!” Beth broke in. “Where did you learn to speak like that?”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Cheryl winked at her small patient. “It’s a perfectly good question. I see lots of things,” Cheryl replied assuredly as she examined his arm, wincing inside as Flynn bit back a yelp. She decided to prolong the rather gory conversation just to keep Flynn’s mind off his pain as she gently palpated the swollen wrist. “Lots of blood and guts, though I haven’t seen too many legs falling off.”

“Oh.” Flynn gave a disappointed shrug. “Hanging off, then?”

“Hanging off?” Cheryl frowned, as if she was thinking hard. “Yep, now you mention it, I’ve seen a few of them.”

“Sick!” Flynn exclaimed, and from his enthusiastic smile, Cheryl assumed that meant he was suitably impressed.

“Apparently
sick
’s the new word for
cool
.” Beth sighed as Cheryl finished her examination and gently placed the boy’s arm back onto the pillow. “Normally, I’d never worry Hal when he’s out on call.” She was ringing her hands in concern as she watched her son. “But Flynn’s been in agony since he fell, though you wouldn’t think it to look at him now. I gave him some painkillers, but if you’d seen him before…”

“The painkillers would have kicked in by now—and now he’s not moving his arm and he’s sitting quietly, which is why he’s not upset. He had good reason to make a fuss and you had every reason to call your husband.” Cheryl looked up at Beth. “He’s broken his wrist.”

“Sick!” Flynn shouted, as Beth promptly dissolved into tears.

“Now, how about you lie there quietly for a moment, Flynn, while I speak to your mom, and soon I’ll be back and we can see about making your arm a bit more comfortable.”

“I’m sorry,” Beth gulped as they reached the kitchen. “I know it’s only a broken wrist and you probably think I’m overreacting. It’s just that…”

“It’s the last thing you need right now,” Cheryl said as Beth nodded slowly. “You’ve got a new baby, Beth. It’s no wonder you’re upset that Flynn’s broken his arm. Any mother would be.”

“I suppose.” Beth didn’t sound particularly convinced or comforted. “Do you have kids, Cheryl?”

“No.” Cheryl gave a small smile. “But I’ve seen
enough moms in my line of work to know that your reaction to Flynn’s injury is perfectly normal. There’s nothing wrong with shedding a few tears.”

“Oh, don’t mind me.” Beth forced a smile. “I’m fine. The kettle’s just boiled, Cheryl. Can I make you a drink before you get started?”

“Not for me, thanks. I’d best get started on setting that wrist.”

“Well, after then,” Beth suggested. “I’ve made some cookies….”

But Cheryl shook her head, keen to get the job done and return to town.

“I think Mitch will want me to head straight back. If you can find me a bucket that would be great. I’ll also need some warm water for the plaster and a few towels.” Taking her cue, Beth scurried out of the kitchen, and Cheryl unloaded her backpack on the freshly scrubbed table. Come to think of it, everything was freshly scrubbed—the place was spotless.

Immaculate even.

So why didn’t it sit right? Cheryl wondered.

“Are you going to put on a cast?” Beth asked, returning loaded with towels and a bucket.

Cheryl shook her head. “Just a temporary back slab, but that should be enough to provide some relief for Flynn. His wrist doesn’t look displaced.” As Beth frowned, Cheryl checked herself and spoke in layman’s terms. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a small break with no deformity, but it will need to be confirmed by X ray. Given the weather, I think your chances of a trip to the hos
pital are slim. So for now, we’ll stick with the back slab. First, I bandage the arm with cotton wool, then put on a slab of plaster of Paris, which I’ll mold to his arm and attach with a bandage. It’ll come off easily when he gets to the hospital, but that will give him a lot of support and take care of his pain till then. Just keep his wrist in a sling, and once the storm is over, you can take him for an X ray and no doubt they’ll put on a more substantial cast.”

“And he’ll be fine,” Beth said firmly, flashing a smile, but the sparkle of tears in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Cheryl.

She narrowed her eyes in concern. Something told her that no matter how much she was needed back in Turning Point, for a moment or two she was needed here, as well.

“Is there anything else on your mind, Beth—apart from Flynn, I mean? Anything else worrying you?”

“Oh, you haven’t got time to listen to my moans,” Beth said airily. “Mitch will be wondering where you’ve got to.”

“Mitch can wait awhile,” Cheryl said gently. “Sometimes it helps to talk….”

“Oh, what would you know?” Beth’s voice was brittle. “I suppose you think it’s easy. I suppose you think that keeping house is child’s play compared to what you do.” Aghast, Beth clapped her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’ve been nothing but nice and I…”

“It’s all right, Beth.” Cheryl kept her voice calm.
Beth’s words might have stung but they weren’t aimed at her personally. Cheryl had been nursing long enough to know when someone was near the edge. Beth’s defensiveness and passive-aggressive responses were signs that needed to be heeded before Cheryl left this vulnerable woman alone with two small children. Tears were flowing freely now, and in the absence of tissues, Beth wept into the towel she was holding, her shoulders heaving as she let out whatever it was she had been keeping in. Instinctively Cheryl headed around the table, dragging a chair over and sitting by Beth.

“I’m so sorry,” Beth sobbed.

“Forget it,” Cheryl said gently. “What’s going on, Beth?”

“You haven’t got time for this.”

“That’s for me to decide,” Cheryl said firmly, taking the pressure off Beth while assuring her patient that she was in control. At the same time Cheryl was painfully aware that she didn’t have the luxury of sitting for hours. It was up to Beth. If she needed help, then she had to reach out now.

“I’m so worried, I can’t sleep, can’t sit down.”

Still Cheryl said nothing, just held the other woman’s gaze.

“Hal says that I’m being stupid, that there’s nothing wrong with Paul.”

“The new baby?” When Beth nodded, Cheryl pushed further, feeling her way slowly, unsure of the real issue here but knowing that whatever it was, it was big to Beth. “So you’ve got two boys now,” Cheryl probed.
She was careful not to offer congratulations, not to assume, as most people might, that this should make Beth happy. When the woman literally crumpled before her, Cheryl knew she had been right.

“It should have been three.” Beth’s voice was a pale whisper, and Cheryl held her breath, knowing that the instinctive murmur of sympathy on her lips was not what Beth needed right now. “I should have had three little boys, but my second son, Cody, died.”

“How old was Cody?” Cheryl asked softly when it was clear Beth wasn’t going to volunteer anything more. “When he died?”

“Eight weeks old.” Beth pressed her fingers into her eyes, taking a few gulping breaths before continuing. “Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I put him down for his afternoon sleep in his room….” She shook her head fiercely, clearly not ready to relive the experience, yet desperately needing to talk. “Hal was out on the farm with Noah….”

“Noah?” Cheryl asked, the name familiar, answering her own question in her mind before Beth did.

“He’s Turning Point’s veterinarian.”

And local hero, to boot,
Cheryl thought with a dash of bitterness as she recalled their encounter at the gas station. But Noah wasn’t the issue here, Beth was, and Cheryl listened intently.

“They heard me screaming and came straight in. Poor Flynn. He saw everything. He still remembers it. He has nightmares about it every now and then.” She gave a loaded sigh. “We all do.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her expression of sympathy was appropriate now, and Cheryl squeezed Beth’s hand to show it was heartfelt.

“The coroner said everything that could have been done, had been. Hal and Noah were amazing. He even said that if there had been a hospital next door, they couldn’t have done anything more for Cody.”