Broken Trails Page 9

  She glanced around the kitchen, even though she already knew no one was there. She clenched the handle of the spoon. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Mom. Don’t worry about anything. I’m fine here. Take care of Aunt May and send her my love. I hope she gets better.” Her mom didn’t need to be worried about her daughter while she worried about her sister, too.

  Strokes were scary and Emma needed to remove herself from even the mention of a health problem. Like she would be jinxed or something. A person learned to be superstitious in a hospital full of people walking around with needles.

  They said their hurried goodbyes and Emma replaced the receiver. She returned to the simple sauce she’d found a recipe for. Hannah used her mother’s stockpiled cookbooks and she’d pointed them out to Emma the first night there. Cooking with a recipe was easy as long as she followed directions.

  She could do that.

  Hannah bounded through the door, her backpack bouncing as she moved. “Hi, Emma! Nate’s home and he’s having dinner with us.” She smiled, her delight evident in her bright eyes. Even her hair had a shinier look.

  Her announcement stirred excitement in Emma’s outlook. Nate would be there for dinner. The sudden desire to run and check to see if she was presentable overcame her. She rested the spoon handle on the side of the pan. “Um, Hannah, I need to run upstairs. Can you watch the sauce please?” She wasn’t sure what the sauce would do if she wasn’t there, but better safe than sorry.

  She pounded up the stairs and into her borrowed room. Pacing around the floor, she yanked on the end of her braid. What was she supposed to wear? Did the situation warrant makeup?

  Her stomach ached but not from hunger. In fact, she hadn’t been hungry all week.

  Emma stopped, holding her hands out in front of her at waist level. She whispered to herself. “Stop. You’re just friends. That’s all. He’s nothing special. In fact, no makeup. Don’t even change your clothes.” If that was true, then why were her palms sweaty?

  Leaving the room, she hurried back downstairs. “Hannah, I think we need to make a salad or something to go with the spaghetti.” She wanted to make the meal special without making the fact that she’d missed him obvious. She’d thought for sure he would’ve at least tried to see her while she was there. Or maybe hoped was more like it.

  She understood he was busy. Wasn’t that why he’d asked for her to come? So that Hannah wouldn’t be alone when he was gone?

  But Emma hadn’t realized how much she’d miss him. She missed him more than Drake.

  Hannah stood by the sink, her shoulders slumped. “It doesn’t matter. We can, if you want to.” She listlessly washed her hands, not even drying them on the hanging towel, but flicking the water from her fingers and wiping them on her shirt.

  “What’s the matter?” Emma didn’t want to know. She had the sinking feeling Nate was involved. She moved to the bubbling sauce and turned the heat down. While it simmered, she’d boil water for the noodles.

  Hannah sighed. “Nate will be late. He stopped in here on his way to the barn. He said go ahead and eat without him.” She sniffed, crossing her arms.

  Emma swallowed her disappointment. Hannah didn’t need Emma to pile her own misery on top of hers. Emma placed her arm around Hannah. “It’s okay. Let’s have some dinner and we’ll still make it special. That way, if he gets done sooner than he thought, he’ll still be able to join us.” She squeezed Hannah’s shoulders and turned back to the pasta. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, struggling to hold on to the glimpse of excitement she’d had.

  Soon they sat to eat, both glancing repeatedly at the door while passing dishes and loading their plates. The tension grew tauter and Emma didn’t want to eat. Her stomach was full, but not with Italian food, but with disappointment.

  Hannah and Emma didn’t say much, and the meal ended when Hannah cleared the dishes from the table, her movements punctuated with sighs and pouting. She slouched off to do her homework, leaving Emma sitting alone.

  Leaning her head back, Emma rested her forearms on the edge of the table. Staying with the Rourkes had kept her own stresses at bay. Every day she felt stronger and more capable. With her parents gone, her own independence grew.

  But…

  And there was always a but, wasn’t there?

  Acclimating to the family life at Bella Acres and with the dynamics still fresh from the most recent change of Stefanie leaving, Emma wasn’t quite sure how to proceed.

  She cleared the table, cleaning up both the dining area and the kitchen.

  With a mug of cranberry-vanilla tea in her hands, she padded out the front door and onto the over-sized wraparound porch. Off to the side, a swing hung from support beams, the split log style appealing with large dark brown cushions and a folded blue blanket on the side.

  Tea in hand, she claimed the swing, pulling her feet up and covering herself with the blanket.

  Rain drizzled and dripped with a steady rhythm that drummed onto the roof and the new leaves of the hostas in the flowerbed at the base of the porch. Emma sipped her steaming tea and soaked in the warmth under the blanket against the cool bite of the rain storm chill.

  She’d never been a big tea drinker, probably because her parents could never afford the leaves. Hannah claimed they made their own sometimes. If Emma lived there, she’d think about selling the blends that they had. They were addicting, even without having caffeine in them. A little bit of honey, and she couldn’t stop drinking the sweet warmth.

  The door opened and closed softly.

  Emma sipped her tea. Usually Hannah joined her after her homework and they talked about whatever they hadn’t covered earlier that day. She lowered her mug. “Done early tonight, huh?” Glancing over, she almost dropped her tea.

  Nate lounged against the outside wall, his ankles crossed and his arms tight to his body. He watched her, his own cup of steaming something or other in hand. “I guess you could say that.”

  Emma shook her head, flustered but in a good way. “No, sorry. I thought you were Hannah. When she finishes her homework, she joins me.” She flexed her feet, excited to see him, but unsure what to do. Did she invite him to sit with her? It was his place. He could technically sit anywhere he wanted.

  But Nate was a gentleman and he wouldn’t sit anywhere without asking or being invited. Emma suddenly wanted him to sit by her with animal ferocity. She drew her knees closer to the side and patted the fluffy cushions. “Come sit with me.” Lifting her mug, she hoped to hide her nervous hope that he would, but was prepared in case he said no.

  He pushed away from the wall and joined her on the swing, bringing with him his own heat. Sitting, he set the seat in motion and Emma lifted her cup to avoid spilling the liquid.

  They contemplated the rain in silence, drinking from their mugs.

  Emma glanced at Nate a couple times, cautiously excited to have him close. She didn’t want to read anything into it, nor did she want to put anything where it didn’t belong, but sitting there with him… Emma could see what their lives would look like in a few years, if she allowed them to go further than friends.

  If she could plan. If she could count on having a future.

  Nate was long term. He was a commitment.

  And her disease didn’t allow for that.

  Plus, when you loved someone, you didn’t want to burden them with stress that was harder than most people could handle.

  “How do you like it here?” His voice reached her like a caress, warming the cool pitter-pat of the rain drops.

  Emma faced him, turning on the cushions and wrapping her arm around her knees. “I love it here. But I think I’m gaining weight. Hannah’s cooking is amazing.”

  Nate nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, when she started cooking, my waist grew thicker. I had to finally ask her to stop making so many desserts and treats. The girl was bound to kill me with diabetes before I even turned twenty-five.”

  His gaze traced her face and what he could see of her form. His voice lowere
d and he sobered. “Well, you look terrific.” He rubbed his eyes, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, I’m tired. My guard is down. What is an appropriate friend thing to say?”

  Emma winced at the unintended reminder about them staying friends. She already chanted that to herself. She shrugged, unable to smile or even joke when she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. She wanted Nate, but she didn’t want him to suffer because of her. What a horrific quandary to be in.

  The rain lent its seriousness to their cocoon. They could’ve been the only two in the entire Clearwater County area. All alone. Just them.

  She licked her lips and went with it. “I’m not sure what a friend would say. I don’t have any but you.” She gathered her courage and continued. “But it was nice to hear.” She tugged on the bottom of her jeans. “Is it breaking rules to say you look the same?”

  Nate stilled, using his foot to stop the momentum of the swing. The lack of motion tightened the cocoon around them.

  Emma held her breath. Nate reached out a finger and traced the curve of her wrist leading to her bent hand. His fingertip was warm from the coffee and sent tingles up her arm. “I think Emma, since you made the rules, you’re going to have to be the one to break them.”

  His blue eyes focused on her and she breathed out on a whoosh.

  She couldn’t hold his gaze and she looked toward the rain, watching the gray drizzles streak the sky. “You’re the only boy I’ve ever kissed.” She didn’t want to say it, but somehow she also wanted him to know that there’d never been anyone else, even though she left without a word.

  Abandoned him.

  Never anyone else.

  “You’re the only girl I’ve ever kissed.” His low murmur drew her gaze and at the same time sent heat sizzling through her flesh.

  He didn’t look away, and the intensity in his eyes stroked her insides.

  “Really?” For some reason she expected him to have loads of girlfriends, lots of kisses and starlit nights. The fact that she was his only one for so long warmed her from the outside in. He had no idea what shards of her heart he fixed with that simple statement.

  “Really.” He opened his hand and put it between them, palm up on the cushion.

  Emma couldn’t help the draw. She placed her hand in his and reveled in the warmth of his touch.

  Chapter 11

  Nate

  If Nate leaned in, he’d be kissing her. But he’d also be putting them in a position Emma did not want to be in. He couldn’t understand what kept her at arm’s length. Honestly, he’d take what he could get.

  Would she ever want more than friendship? The woman was captivating with her sweetness, her shyness, yet her confidence. He’d never been able to focus on any other girl because for him, it was always Emma. The uptilt of her nose and the soft sloping of her jaw. Dang, even the waves in her hair caught his eye when she moved.

  Her smile held him the most. The joy in the curve of her lips could make or break his day. If she wanted to keep things platonic, he’d be fine with it.

  Touching her, holding her hand was good enough for him.

  For now.

  ~~~

  With the rain drowning his fields, Nate would be able to do more blacksmithing work. Always have to find the positive, even when he didn’t want to. He rose early, humming softly as he grabbed a cup of coffee and pulled on a thick Carhart jacket.

  The soft silence of the house and the sleeping occupants made him smile as he closed the door quietly behind him. They wouldn’t wake for another couple hours. Turning up his collar to the wind and rain, Nate tromped across the puddle-strewn yard to the barn.

  Dusty warmth enveloped him inside the older building. Around the time he was twelve his dad had gotten him into blacksmithing, claiming the lost art was worth more than people gave it credit. Dad had built a cement block walled, well-ventilated addition in the back corner of the barn just for Nate. While Dad had been trained for blacksmithing, he’d claimed the talent passed him by – even though he took small jobs on the side. When Nate forged, he felt like his dad watched him from the doorway.

  He hadn’t been in that room in almost a year.

  Not long after prices on coal rose, Nate adjusted his forge to accept red fir logs, which he had to maintain more often, but could burn as hot as the charcoal pellets he’d been buying in the bags. Instead of a manual pump fan like the original still hanging on the wall, Nate had rigged up a port for him to hook his shop vac to. When the switch was flipped to reverse, and only on a little while, he didn’t have to stop his metal work and breathe new life into the fire at the base of the fire basin.

  Building a fire in the small basin couldn’t be easier and he soon had to remove his jacket and hang it from a hook in the growing warmth. He grabbed up wrought iron tongs and stoked the mounting burn.

  If he was lucky, he’d be able to lose himself in his work and not get distracted by constant thoughts of Emma. Like the softness of her hair or the light pink color of her lower lip. He might not have to wonder about the different shades of brown in her eyes or the small freckle just below her left ear. The slope of her neck…

  He wasn’t lucky. He never was.

  ~~~

  The barn door slammed shut and Hannah’s yell barreled through the walls. “Nate! Nate! Hurry!”

  Nate pulled off his eye protection and wiped at his brow. He’d been forging a gate latch for a few hours and the heat in the cement addition was high. He carefully placed the hot tongs to the side and searched out Hannah’s frantic calling. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Emma. She fell. I can’t wake her up. Hurry!” Hannah motioned him from the doorway, not taking time to come inside the barn to get him. Fear eroded her normally bright countenance into a duller version, tight with worry.

  “Hold on!” He couldn’t leave the forge burning. It’d burn the place up. He dumped the five gallon bucket of quenching water into the forge. Normally, he wouldn’t treat his equipment with such disregard, but emergencies required the mess. He could always clean up later.

  Emma had fallen? He didn’t remove his leather apron but tossed his gloves on the side table as he raced after Hannah to the house. His boots thudded dully on the grass, slower than his pulse. Emma. What happened? He stormed up the stairs and into the kitchen.

  Hannah stood over Emma lying in a heap on the floor, wringing her hands and whimpering. Emma’s hair splayed about her shoulders and her skin had never looked so pale.

  Crouching down, Nate gently shook her shoulders, straightening her out with her back flat. “Emma? Emma, honey, come on, wake up.” Feeling for a pulse, he placed two fingers beside her neck and lowered his cheek to her chest.

  To Hannah, Nate asked, “What happened?”

  “She was laughing about something. I told her not to do too much, but she’s been working hard all morning. Said she was going to bring you some breakfast when she came out to milk the cows. All morning she’s been grabbing at her arm, saying it hurt.” Tears coursed down Hannah’s cheeks and she wrung her hands. “She fell after I said something about you guys liking each other. Did I do it? Did I hurt her?”

  No heartbeat. Nate’s own heart almost stopped. He jerked to a kneeling position and braced his arms with his hands centered over her chest. “Hannah, call nine-one-one. Hurry.”

  Hannah ran to the phone and dialed. She spoke to the operator and hung up, crying harder. “They won’t be here for almost thirty minutes. An accident or something. Oh man, Nate, what are we going to do?”

  Nate couldn’t leave Emma. If he stopped, she wouldn’t make it. He didn’t know much about CPR but he knew compressions worked the heart. He’d never get Emma to the hospital, if they just sat there and waited.

  He could drive them to Colby in less than an hour at a fast speed. If they waited for the ambulance, it’d be at least two hours before she got to the hospital.

  Nate’s mind raced. He could do it. Hannah could help him. “Come here, fast. I need you to foc
us.”

  Hannah’s open sobbing subsided to sniffles and hiccups as she listened for his direction.

  He narrowed his eyes and continued pumping on Emma’s chest. “They won’t get here in time. I need you to take over and push on Emma like I am. Not too hard and not too soft, okay? Arms straight.”

  Eyes wide in horror, Hannah backed away. “No! I can’t do that. What if I do it wrong? Why can’t you do it?” Her voice rose as she got closer to hysteria.

  Shaking his head, Nate spoke calmly even though utter chaos ripped through his emotions. “You can do this, it’s easier than it looks. You’re not going to do anything wrong. I’m going to get the truck out.”

  Gaze whipping to Nate’s face from Emma’s, Hannah’s mouth fell open in a perfect O. Cautiously, she knelt down across from Nate and watched him for a moment. Nate didn’t push her. He was scared – he couldn’t imagine how his little sister felt.

  Her tears dried and she slapped her upper thighs. “Okay, I think I can do that.” She moved into place. Nate slid his hands out and she replaced his with hers, fingers entwined and she pumped.

  Nate straightened her elbows and then adjusted her speed. “You got it. Good. I’m going to get the truck, I’ll be right back.” The thought of the truck tightened his throat but he pushed through the nerves surrounding the last vehicle on the ranch.

  Hannah nodded, biting her lower lip and trying to match Nate’s pace.

  Tossing one last glance toward Hannah and Emma, Nate bolted toward the barn and around back. Under the large lean-to, he’d parked and covered his dad’s Ford F250. The thing was a beast and hadn’t been started in years, but – and it was a heavy but – Nate had kept a trickle charger on the battery and the maintenance up to date, even though he’d disconnected the starter coil soon after his parents had died in that crash.

  The last thing he’d wanted was temptation for anyone else to drive in his family.

  Removing the spare snow tires from the hood, Nate drew the tarp off the Dodge Ram truck and winced. The dark blue truck was so much a part of his memories of Dad, he half-expected to see his old man sitting in the front seat waving.