Back to Eden

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Cole’s careening thoughts screeched to a halt on Jackson’s question. “Rachel seems to,” Cole answered woodenly. At least with Rachel Cole knew his daughter was in good hands, especially if he could convince her to give up firefighting.

“That’s good. You’ve always gotten along with her.”

“Sure. A decade ago we were friends.” That was before he realized everything about his time in Eden was a lie. “Why did she do this to me?” Cole wasn’t sure if he meant Missy keeping Jenna a secret or Rachel telling him about Jenna.

“Why don’t you ask Rachel?”

“I will. Tomorrow.” And all during the drive back to Eden. Like it or not, Rachel was getting a ride home from Cole. Cole hoped that was enough time to get to know more about his daughter and what he should do, and crack the mystery that had been Missy. Somehow, Cole knew that if he didn’t understand Missy better, his heart would never let her go. And the only person with answers was Rachel.

“ARE WE CLOSE?” Matt asked, walking with wobbly steps as he tried to balance the plastic-wrapped flowers Pop had purchased in the gift shop with one chubby hand. His other hand held Pop’s.

Jenna wasn’t sure what to be more worried about—her grandfather falling down and hurting himself or Matt tripping and crushing the flowers. She pressed the bunch of flowers back against Matt’s chest before looking at the numbers on the wall. “The lady said 112. This is 104.”

Jenna didn’t like hospitals. Bad things happened there. She walked next to Pop and Matt with her head down, concentrating on pulling the small wheeled suitcase. Trying to be quiet. Only, it was hard to be quiet in cowboy boots. She wished they could walk faster, but Pop had been wobbly on his feet since his eyes had gotten worse.

“Is this it?” Matt peeked into the next room. He’d just started kindergarten and wasn’t good with numbers yet.

Jenna shook her head. “No, 106.”

Matt ran to the next doorway, almost tripping over his own feet. “Is this it?”

“No.” Sometimes Matt was annoying. Jenna bit her lip to keep from yelling at him.

Pop’s gnarled hand rested on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “I’m real proud of you. We couldn’t have made this trip without you, Jenna.”

“I got us lost,” Jenna mumbled, burning with embarrassment.

“Yes,” Pop chuckled. “But then you found us again.”

Matt was running ahead, dragging the flowers on the gray floor as he stuck his head in room after room, calling out, “Is this it, Jenna?”

“Matt, stop,” Jenna hissed, seeing the nurse at the desk ahead of them frown, then stand up. “Wait for us.”

“Can I help you?” The nurse didn’t smile. Jenna could tell by her frown she didn’t really want to help them. The last time Jenna had been in a hospital was when Matt was born. Her mom had been crying. The nurse had pushed her out of the room and warned her to stay put or else.

Matt had stopped in the middle of the hallway, moving the bunch of flowers up and down and around as if he held a toy airplane. Jenna shushed him before he started making engine noises. Any minute now the nurse was going to kick them out.

Pop squeezed Jenna’s shoulder again. “We’re here to see my daughter, Rachel Quinlan. She’s in room 112.”

Jenna held her breath. That nurse was going to open her mouth and…

“Ahh, I was worried you wouldn’t get here in time.” The nurse came around the desk to them.

“In time?” Pop said, frowning in the nurse’s direction.

Jenna knew it. Aunt Rachel was dying.

“THERE SHE IS! Mommy!” Matt ran on stubby legs across the gray linoleum to Rachel’s bed, flinging his arms and a bouquet of flowers over her waist before resting his head on the mattress.

He didn’t land on her with much force, but Rachel’s muscles contracted around her bruised ribs, momentarily sending waves of pain through her chest.

When Rachel could breathe again, she ran a hand over Matt’s dark, silky hair and smiled as best she could through sudden tears at the sight of her father hobbling through the door with one hand on Jenna’s shoulder. She was glad to see them, yet she worried that if Cole came before they left he’d say something Jenna wasn’t ready to hear.

“There’s my girl,” Pop said, without looking at her directly. Since macular degeneration had decreased the clarity in the middle of Pop’s vision, he’d taken to looking at things sideways. “We’re here to take you home.”

“And bring you clean clothes,” Matt added, plucking at her hospital gown. “Looks like someone stole yours.”

“This is what you wear in a hospital. How was your trip?” Rachel lowered her voice to a whisper meant only for Matt. “Did you have any accidents?” He was having a bit of trouble remembering to go to the bathroom in school.

“Nope.” The little guy gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Jenna’s face was pale. She looked thinner than normal and remained rooted in the doorway, gripping the suitcase handle. Unlike Matt, who had the appetite of a teenager, Jenna didn’t think much about food.

Rachel wanted to gather them all close, but knew if she sat up too fast, she’d keel over, scaring the daylights out of them all. She settled for reaching out to Pop. “How did you get here?”

Her dad wasn’t allowed to drive long distances or at night, but he’d figured out how to get their family to Montana from Wyoming. Rachel wished they hadn’t surprised her. She would have preferred to get some of the tubes out of her arms so that she didn’t look like such an invalid.

“We took the bus,” Pop said in a gruff voice, taking Rachel’s hand and holding on tight, his bony fingers still strong despite his age and failing health. “Couldn’t stomach you being here alone. We hoped to be here yesterday.”

With an impish smile, Matt said, “It took Pop forever to find the bus place. Then Jenna read the thing wrong, and we ended up on the wrong bus.” He rolled his eyes.

Ignoring Matt, Jenna moved forward with slow steps, asking in a strained voice, “What happened to your head?”

“I’ve got a big bruise.” With effort, Rachel held her smile in place. She knew she looked scary. She could barely stand to look at herself in the mirror.

“I’ve never had a bruise like that.” Matt peered at her hair.

Rachel prayed he never would.

“It looks like you’re wearing a beanie on your head.” Blue eyes wide, Jenna made a circular motion with her hand around her crown. “Are you going to be like that forever?”

The noise Rachel hoped was a laugh sounded more like a donkey braying. “Of course not.” She wasn’t particularly vain, but she’d asked two nurses and the doctor the same thing.

“What’s the word on the Privateer?” Pop asked. “Can we salvage it?”

Hating to disappoint him, Rachel avoided his gaze. “There’s nothing left to salvage.”

“Did you wreck your plane?” Matt stuck out his lower lip. “Couldn’t you save her?”

“You did save the most important thing on board,” Pop said, squeezing Rachel’s hand. A veteran of many wars and a few crashes, her dad was probably fully aware of what she was going through—the doubts, the fear, the guilt over Danny’s death, the anger that she hadn’t been good enough to avert disaster.

And she still had Missy’s secrets to worry about.

“We’ll find an even better plane. I’ll call a couple of people when we get home.” Pop’s smile and words were meant to reassure.

But Rachel’s throat closed. She’d come close to cutting her life short, to letting them all down. How was she going to find the will to get in the air again?

Jenna stood at the foot of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Missy’s daughter understood how close she’d come to losing Rachel. She was an old soul who’d seen too much sorrow for a ten-year-old.

Rachel flicked a finger over Matt’s nose, which elicited another smile from him. “I’m afraid we’ve lost her, Matt, but you’ve still got me.”

Oblivious to the emotions of those around him, Matt bounced against the mattress a couple of times. “I hope we get a really fast plane next time, because Pop says I can start flying when I’m ten.” His dark eyes sparkled with excitement.

Next time. Would there be a next plane? A next flight? There had to be. Flying was the only way Rachel knew to pay the bills and keep her family together. Flying was the only place where Rachel felt free.

If only Rachel’s heart didn’t pound a fearful beat at the thought of taking to the air.

“I NEED TO GIVE YOU instructions before you all leave.”

Lost in thoughts of Missy and what might have been if he’d just stayed in Eden or if someone had told him the truth earlier, Cole almost didn’t stop at the nurse’s station. “Instructions?”

“Yes.” The nurse eyed him as one would a misbehaving child. “Until the swelling in Miss Quinlan’s head goes down, she’ll be very unsteady on her feet. Don’t let her walk on her own.”

He was to be Rachel’s nursemaid? Rachel wasn’t going to be too happy about that. If only he could reclaim the easy relationship they’d had when they were younger. Then she’d let him help her. And maybe he could get her talking about Missy, which would help him understand what had happened. He knew that was the only way he’d be able to let go. It might also give him the answer as to what to do about Jenna and his parents.

Given the tragedy of his sister’s death and how that had sent his mother into a tailspin that she had yet to fully come out of… Well, showing up on his parents’ doorstep with someone who looked so much like Sally wasn’t an idea he’d even remotely consider. Custody, which he hadn’t even thought about until Jackson had brought it up, was not something Cole was looking for. So what did he want from this?

He wanted Missy. He wanted to go back to Eden, to a time when Missy had loved him and he’d felt as if he’d belonged to someone, to a family.

Too late. He’d blown his chance.

The nurse tapped the tip of a pen on the counter to reclaim his attention. “No unassisted walking. Not even to the bathroom. Every time her head rises above her feet, she’ll feel as if she’s just gotten off a roller coaster. That means even sitting can be a problem.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll have a hand on her every time she so much as sits up.” Since Rachel needed such delicate care, she wouldn’t be able to send him away the moment they arrived back in Eden. In light of that, playing nursemaid was bearable.

“Be careful of her ribs when you help her up and down. Bruised ribs are no fun.”

Nodding, Cole rubbed his chest. He’d cracked a couple of ribs his first year as a Hot Shot when a tree he’d been trying to take down had nearly crushed him. He’d learned a lot about falling trees since then, and adopted a more conservative approach to life.

The nurse interrupted his meandering thoughts. “If you can’t wake her up, take her directly to the emergency room.”

That got his attention. Cole had never been around anyone recovering from a concussion before. He’d noticed Rachel’s head was swollen, but hadn’t realized the consequences of the injury lasted so long.

Poor thing.

Poor lying thing. He had to remember that she’d kept so much a secret from him all this time. Missy had been gone five years. Five years! The realization that he’d never see Missy again still turned his stomach, and yet, the fact that Missy had had so little faith in his love stung. Rachel hadn’t been the only lying Quinlan.

The nurse shifted into his line of vision. “When she gets home, she’ll need constant assistance and lots of sleep. Dressing will be a challenge, and things requiring a good bit of standing, like cooking, are out for at least a few weeks.”

As it became clear just what an invalid Rachel was, Cole felt a bit overwhelmed by the responsibility of it all. Wasn’t the nurse going to write any of this down?

“Nod if you understand,” the nurse said with a steely gaze.

Cole nodded slowly.

“It seems as if I can trust you, although after that episode yesterday, I’m not so sure.” She looked him up and down. “You won’t upset her, will you?”

Cole scratched the back of his neck. “You’ve seen what kind of patient she is. She doesn’t like sitting still or taking orders. Do you honestly think anyone caring for her won’t upset her?”

The nurse grinned. “All right, you’ll do. Let’s go get our patient.” She pushed the wheelchair briskly down the hall to Rachel’s room.

Cole hesitated. The time had come to face Rachel after the bluntness of her parting words. What would he have done if Missy had called him up and told him she was pregnant all those years ago?

Cole frowned. The past eleven years would have been different if he’d known about Jenna. A part of him felt guilty to have had such a good life, free of the responsibility and financial burden a child brought. Cole didn’t want to acknowledge that Rachel and Missy might have been right. He’d been itching to do things, to go out and tackle the world. A child, hell, even a wife, would have fenced him in.

He’d like to think he would have found a way to make things work with Missy, to create a home for her and the baby, to make peace with his mother, but the truth was Cole would have resented going back to Eden and taking up some mundane job at a gas station or grocery store. And Missy had made it clear she wasn’t leaving Eden. Cole lived for the outdoors and had come to love the risk and adrenaline rush of being a Hot Shot. If he’d known about Jenna their relationship would have been doomed.

“THIS IS ALL UNNECESSARY,” Rachel said as she eyed the wheelchair her nurse pushed into the room. She wasn’t that helpless.

Cole appeared in the doorway, glancing from Rachel to the wheelchair. Rachel tugged self-consciously at the wrinkled T-shirt her family had brought her and wondered if she could get rid of Cole before the others got back from the cafeteria. “I can walk out of here on my own.”

“Uh-huh.” Ignoring her protests, the nurse swung Rachel’s booted feet slowly around until they hung off the side of the bed.

Rachel stared at the dark splotches on her boots and tried to swallow back the fear the bloodstains awakened. Fear of flying. Fear of dying. Fear of failure. Inexplicably, Rachel’s gaze was drawn to Cole’s in the hope that he would dispel her anxiety the way he’d done when they were younger.

But Cole wore the same disapproving frown as her nurse. That made Rachel wish things were different between them, wish that she could smile at Cole and he’d grin back, as if they shared a private joke the punch line of which only they knew. But she was on her own. The only one who was going to handle the burdens Rachel carried was Rachel.

Disappointed, Rachel looked away. “Just call me a cab, and I’ll get myself to the bus station.” She would not allow herself to be hurt further by Cole, or let him hurt Jenna.

“Sure, sure. I’d do that. But it’s hospital policy that we give you a ride out of here.” The nurse gave Cole a significant look and nodded toward the end of the bed.

Cole moved closer. Clearly he was going to help the nurse move Rachel into the wheelchair. Rachel frowned until her head throbbed in protest. She winced and cleared her expression.

“I don’t like being babied,” Rachel announced, squinting intently at the floor because judging the distance to it was somehow difficult. Doubt surfaced. Maybe she really did need help.

“I don’t baby my patients,” the nurse answered stiffly, flipping the wheelchair footrests to either side, then locking the wheels in place. She returned to Rachel’s side, near enough to catch her if she fell, and then pushed the button to lower Rachel’s bed.

It was now or never.

Wrapping one hand around her rib cage Rachel slid slowly off the bed, hoping to land on her feet. It didn’t work out like that. Even though Cole and the nurse grabbed for Rachel’s arms, she still ended up on the floor.

“Could you not have waited two seconds more?” Cole asked.

“I wanted to see if I could do it.” Rachel struggled to breathe as the world came back into focus. Unfortunately, clear vision made it possible to see that Jenna had arrived.

“Are you all right?” the girl asked, looking as if she was about to cry. Between Rachel’s appearance and nonexistent balance, her niece had every right to be shaken. It would have been better if Pop had kept her little family at home.