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What should she do? She had to call someone. With great effort, she tried to open the door. After what seemed like hours, the door cringed ajar and a blast of arctic air flowed over Goldie’s hot skin. Taking in the crunched front end of her car, she held on to the door as light-headedness washed over her again. She managed to stand, to find her purse. But the phone was lost in the recesses of her shopping bags, notebooks and laptop case. And even if she could find it, she probably wouldn’t have very good service.
Goldie gave up on the search and, still woozy and confused, stood and glanced around the woods. She saw a light flickering through the trees.
“A house,” she whispered, her prayers raw in her throat. “Maybe someone can help me.”
Without giving it much thought other than to find warmth and aid, she slowly made her way along the icy road, her purse clutched to her chest, her head screaming a protest of swirling pain. It was the longest trek of her life and none of the walk made any sense to Goldie. Her brain was fuzzy and her pulse was on fire with a radiating pain. All she could think about was getting out of this freezing sleet.
“Must have a concussion,” she voiced to the wind.
When she finally made it to the front door of the house, she was cold, wet and numb with shock. But she knocked and fell against the cool wood, her prayers too hard to voice.
No one came to the door.
So, desperate and beyond caring, she pushed away from the door and continued along the wraparound porch, holding the fat wooden railing until she reached the back of the big farmhouse. Then she fell against the glass-paneled door of the inviting home. Her eyes tried to focus on the Christmas tree sitting in front of the large bay windows and the embers of what looked like a recent fire sparking in the big fireplace.
Goldie wanted that warmth. So she knocked and tried to call out. But no one answered. With one last hope, she jiggled the handle, thinking to herself that she was about to do some serious breaking and entering if she couldn’t get any assistance.
And then, the door flew open and Goldie fell through, landing on the cold wide-planked wood of the floor. With a grunt of pain, she crawled to a sitting position then kicked the door shut. Her gaze scanned the big, cozy room and landed for a quick, painful moment on the massive couch across from the still-warm fireplace.
That big brown sofa looked like paradise right now. She’s just rest for a minute, then figure out what to do.
Seeing stars that weren’t on the tree, Goldie crawled over, pulled herself onto the cushioned pillows and grabbing her beloved locket to hold it close in her hand, and promptly passed out, facedown.
Chapter Two
She had to be dreaming. Goldie sighed in her sleep, glowing warmth moving through her tired bones. She squinted toward the face hovering over her.
The man had dark brown hair and pretty golden eyes but the frown on his face made him look fierce and almost savage. What was he doing in her dream?
Goldie’s eyes flew open, pain shooting through her temple like an electrical charge when she tried to sit up. “Where am I?”
“It’s okay,” the fierce-looking man assured her, pushing her down on the soft pillows. “The ambulance is on its way. You’re going to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” Goldie tried to sit again but the room started spinning and she felt sick to her stomach. Falling back on the pillows, she asked, “What’s wrong with me?”
“You gotta boo-boo.”
She closed one eye then slanted the other one toward that tiny voice. A miniature version of Fierce Man stared at her with big, solemn eyes.
“What kind of boo-boo?” Goldie asked, not so sure she wanted an ambulance or an audience. “What happened?”
“You’ve been in an accident,” the man recapped, shooing the little tyke out of the way. “You hit your head.”
For a minute, Goldie just lay there staring at her surroundings. This was a nice enough place, but she had no idea how she’d wound up here. “Where am I?”
“This is my house,” the man explained. “But don’t worry about that right now. Do you remember anything?”
“No.” Goldie closed her eyes, hoping that would help the dizziness spiraling through her brain. “I don’t know.”
“Did you walk here or drive maybe?”
And then she remembered she’d been in a car. Images of that car swirling out of control rushed through her mind. “Yes. Yes. I was in a wreck on the road.” She took a deep breath to stop the nausea rising in her stomach. “I lost control and then my head hurt so much. I couldn’t find my phone so I got out of the car and I saw the light.”
“You broke into our house,” came yet another male voice. A different one. This one was more pronounced and angry.
“No, the door was open,” Goldie replied, deciding to look at Fierce Man instead of that accusing little person, whoever he was.
The man glanced from Goldie to the boys huddled around her feet. “Did MeeMaw forget to lock the back door?”
The bigger of the two boys shook his head then looked down at the floor. “No, sir. She told me to do it. I was the last one out. I thought I heard it click.”
Goldie watched, triumphant because she’d told the truth and now so had the real culprit, as the man’s brooding frown changed to a look of complete understanding and forgiveness. “It’s okay, son. That old door sticks all the time. I need to see about making it more secure. That happens to me a lot, too.”
Goldie thought that was the sweetest thing, the way this man was shouldering the blame for the malfunctioning back door. “I’m glad it wasn’t closed,” she remarked on a raw spasm of pain, hoping to ease the boy’s embarrassment. “I was so cold. And my head hurt a lot.”
“So she didn’t break in,” the tiny one mouthed to the older one, obviously his brother since they looked almost identical. “You need to tell her you’re sorry.”
“I thought she did,” the older one revealed, his hands fisting at his sides. “It looked that way.” He didn’t say he was sorry.
“Okay, you two. Enough,” the man interceded in an authoritative voice. “Step aside and give the nice lady some space.”
The boys backed away, their eyes curious and cute.
“I’m so sorry,” Goldie apologized to the man. “I didn’t mean to pass out on your couch.”
“You’re hurt,” he replied, cutting her the same slack he’d just allowed the boy who’d accidentally left the house unlocked. “Just lie still until we can get you some help.”
“How long have I been out?”
“I’m not sure,” the man answered. “We got home about fifteen minutes ago. Do you remember anything else?”
She moved her head in an attempt to nod, but the pain stopped her. “My car hit a patch of ice and went sliding right into a tree. A big tree.”
“Could have been worse,” the man theorized, surveying her. “I think you’re okay except for the bang on your head. Must have hit the steering wheel pretty hard.”
“It’s all fuzzy,” she admitted. Then, in spite of her pain and her odd circumstances landing on his couch, she remembered her manners and said, “I’m Goldie Rios.”
He smiled at that, sending out a radiant warmth that brought Goldie a sense of comfort and security. “I’m Rory Branagan and these are my sons, Tyler and Sam.”
“I’m Tyler,” the little one added, grinning.
Sam didn’t say anything. He seemed downright sad as he stared at her. Sad and a bit distrustful. How could she blame him? He’d come home to find a strange woman bleeding on his furniture.
“It’s good to meet all of you,” Goldie responded. “And thanks for being so kind to me.”
Rory’s soft smile shined again, making Goldie wonder if she might yet be dreaming. This man was a sensitive father. And probably a considerate husband. And for some reason that her hurting brain couldn’t quite figure out, that bothered Goldie. Trying to think, she realized she couldn’t remember much but the accident. Where had she been? And where was she headed?
The sound of a siren broke Rory’s smile and brought Goldie out of her pounding thoughts. He jumped up and went into action while she blinked and closed her eyes. “I think your ride is here.” Then he glanced at his sons. “And so is a patrol car. You’ll need to give the police a report, nothing to worry about.”
Goldie could tell he’d added that last bit for the benefit of his sons, since their eyes grew even wider. The little one showed excitement, but the older boy’s eyes held a dark, brooding anger.
If her head hadn’t hurt so much, Goldie might have been able to figure that one out. And get to know Not-so-fierce Man a little better. She was certainly content to stay right here in the light of that great smile. But she was in pain, no doubt. And although she wasn’t sure if she needed to go to the hospital, she didn’t have much choice. Her car was probably totaled and she was too dizzy to stand up. Then, in a clear and concise image in her mind, she remembered her grandmother.
“I need to let Grammy know,” she noted. “My grandmother.”
“Sure. What’s her number?” Rory replied. “I’ll call her right now.”
Goldie rattled off the numbers, glad her brain was beginning to cooperate. “Her name is Ruth Rios.”
Rory let out a chuckle. “You don’t say? I should have made the connection when you told me your name. I know Miss Ruth. She goes to my church. So you’re her granddaughter?”
Goldie nodded. “I just came here a few weeks ago to help her out. She’s been recovering from hip surgery.”
“Yeah, we heard that and since she hasn’t been to church in a while…I’m sure sorry.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I should have gone by to see her.”
“She’s doing better,” Goldie informed him. “But I know she’s worried since I’m not home yet. I was supposed to be there hours ago.”
“I’ll call her, I promise,” Rory reiterated as the paramedics knocked on the door, followed by one of the three police officers serving Viola.
Goldie nodded, her mind whirling with pain and confusion. “Don’t let her get out in this weather. She doesn’t need to come to the hospital.” After that, she didn’t get much of a chance to say anything else to Rory. She was too busy being examined and questioned, both of which left her tired and even more confused.
The paramedics checked her vitals, asked her all the pertinent questions and concluded yes, she might have a mild concussion. And the officer seemed satisfied that she’d been in a one-car accident and that she hadn’t been drinking. He and Rory both assured her they’d have the car towed. So she was off to the hospital.
“I appreciate your help,” Goldie mumbled to Rory as she was lifted up and hustled onto the waiting gurney.
“Don’t worry about that,” Rory commented, following her stretcher out into the chilly night. “Take care, Goldie.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled again as the ambulance doors shut. She could just make out his image as he talked to the police officer.
But as she lay there with two efficient paramedics fussing over her, Goldie wondered if she’d ever see Rory Branagan again.
Doubtful, since she wouldn’t be staying here in Viola much longer now that Grammy was better. And double doubtful since she didn’t attend church with Grammy.
Or at least, she hadn’t yet.
The next morning, Goldie hung up the phone by her hospital bed to find Rory standing in the door of her room, holding a huge poinsettia in a green pot.
“Uh, hi,” he said, the big red and green plant blocking his face. “The nurse said I could come in.”
Goldie grinned then motioned to him. “Hi, yourself. I just talked to Grammy. She said you were so nice last night, calling her and keeping her informed. And that you wouldn’t let her get out in the weather even to come visit me.”
He lifted his chin in a quick nod. “She was pretty stubborn about doing just that, but I called her neighbor and asked her to sit with your grandmother. Then I contacted the hospital to check on you. Only, they didn’t want to give me any information. So I phoned your grandmother again and explained it to her, since she was your next of kin.” He laughed, took a breath then asked, “So how are you?”
“I’m fine,” Goldie reported, her heart doing an odd little dance as he set down the plant and came closer. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
“No trouble. Me and Miss Ruth go back a long way. I once rescued an armadillo out of her backyard.”
“Excuse me?” Goldie reclined against her pillows, taking in his crisp plaid flannel shirt and sturdy jeans. She didn’t think it was possible that he still looked so handsome, even in the glaring morning light, but he did.
“I work for the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries as a nuisance hunter. I get calls to trap wild animals, anything from armadillos and snakes to alligators and even the occasional black bear.”
“You’re kidding?”
He looked downright sheepish. “No, that’s my job.”
“Isn’t that sorta dangerous?”
He grinned again. “Not as dangerous as forcing myself to come to the hospital in an ice storm to check on you. And mind you, it wasn’t the storm that scared me.”
He did seem a bit uncomfortable. He fidgeted with the water jar and rearranged her drinking cup. And Goldie’s impish nature clicked on. “What, you don’t like hospitals?”
“That and…I’m a bit rusty on talking to women.”
She filed that comment away to study more closely later. He had two little boys so he was obviously a happily married man. Disappointing but comforting in a strange way. He looked like the kind of man who belonged in a family.
Nobody liked hospitals but the expression in his eyes told her maybe he’d had some firsthand experience with this kind of thing. Maybe she’d ask him about that, too, but right now, she only wanted to put him at ease. “I’m easy to talk to on most days and I really like the flower.”
“It was the only thing I could find at the superstore on the highway.”
“It’s pretty, but again, you didn’t have to come see me.”
“I promised Miss Ruth.” He shrugged. “And I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Goldie stared at the plant. “I have a slight concussion, but they’re releasing me this afternoon. I just have to rest for the weekend and take over-the-counter pain reliever. No ibuprofen though, since it can cause some sort of bleeding—doctor’s orders.” She motioned to a paper on the bedside table. “I have a whole list of instructions on all the things to watch for after a concussion.” And she wondered if one of those things was a rapid pulse, and if Rory or her head injury was the cause of that symptom.
“So, what about your confusion and memory loss?”
She slanted her throbbing head. “I still can’t quite remember much more about the accident or what I was doing most of yesterday, but I’m okay. The doctor said I might not ever remember all of it. He just warned me of dizziness and confusion at times. But hey, I’m that way on a good day.”
He fingered one of the vivid red poinsettia leaves. “Your car was full of shopping bags.”
“You’ve seen my car?”
“I had it towed, remember?” He seemed embarrassed. “I guess you don’t. It’s at a nearby garage. But I got all the stuff out of it. It’s in my car right now. I can take it by your grandmother’s if you want me to.”
Goldie shook her head. “You’re amazing. What’s the catch?”
“Excuse me?” he asked, echoing her earlier words to him. “What catch?”
She shrugged, wincing at her sore muscles. “You just seem too good to be true.”
He lowered his head. When he looked back up, his eyes were dark with some unspoken emotion. “Oh, I’m not, trust me. I just walked across the woods last night with the policeman to check on your car and then I notified a friend who owns a body shop to tow it. After you file your insurance report and get the go-ahead, he’ll give you a good estimate—that is if you want him to fix the car.”
Goldie decided not to question why he deflected the compliment. “Can it be fixed?”
“Maybe.” He stood quietly and then said, “I hope I didn’t overstep—having him pick up the car.”
Goldie shook her head. “No, not at all. I just didn’t need this to happen right now. I’m here to help Grammy and I depend on my car to get me around. Just one more thing to deal with.”
