side, feeling the sunshine on his face. And more importantly—the ground beneath his feet. He tried focusing on a list of calls that had to be made, chores that had to be delegated. His first crop of wheat needed attention.
Yet the farm was a hazy image eclipsed by a beautiful face, one surrounded by waves of hair fairer than his precious wheat, framing eyes bluer than his beloved Montana sky.
He bent an arm behind his head and pictured her fragile smile, and suddenly guilt prickled in his chest. Damn. He’d been so glad to see her, he hadn’t even mentioned her mother’s death. What an insensitive oaf she must think he is. A self-absorbed oaf. Who better than he knew how it felt to lose a mother? Next time...when she returned....
He closed his eyes and his head grew fuzzy, the drugs numbing more than his pain. His thoughts were again a jumble and it was hard to concentrate. Wheat fields blurred with blond hair, and yellow combines turned into oak caskets. Then, mercifully, images of mothers and deaths were overtaken by the fluids dripping into the back of his hand and everything went blank again.
Max rose to greet Taylor, stepping quickly from behind his cluttered desk. He gave her a gentle embrace and then sat back on the edge of his desk. “How are you holding up?”
Taylor bit her top lip and nodded, not meeting his dark eyes.
“I wish I could have been there. I’m so sorry—”
She held up a hand, stopping him. This was the worst—hearing someone say they were sorry and seeing the sadness in their eyes. Sometimes she wished everyone would pretend nothing had happened, that they would give her a few days, even hours, to mend.
She was being unkind, she thought, and expelled a long breath.
When the silence became uncomfortable she changed topics. “I just came from Josh’s room. His spirits seem good.”
Max nodded and looked at the floor.
“How bad is it? Can you tell me?”
Max exhaled loudly. “Too soon to say, but we’re optimistic.”
“Spinal cord?”
“Not severed.”
Taylor dropped into the chair behind her, only now realizing how much she had dreaded another answer. Max took the seat next to her, tugged at a leg of his scrubs and crossed an ankle over one knee. “I keep reminding myself how much worse it could have been. If Shane hadn’t been on his way over to the farm when the plane went down—”
“You mean he actually saw the crash?” Bile rose in her throat just thinking about it.
Max shook his head. “Hannah and Jenny had done a lot of baking that morning, and Shane volunteered to drive some things over to the farm. Thank God he was in his Explorer and had his cell phone.” Max rubbed his temples and Taylor saw the fatigue and worry on his face. “Josh tipped his wings when he spotted Shane on the road below... the way he likes to do whenever he sees one of us...or at least that’s what Shane thought he was doing. Then the plane cleared the trees and—” Max sucked in air and finished “—we all heard the impact. The ground shook and I knew...”
Taylor reached out a hand and touched his arm. “We don’t have to talk about this now.”
“No. It’s okay.” He patted the back of her hand. “Shane called 911 and got to the site soon after. But all he could see was fire and smoke. Then he said he thought he was seeing a mirage. Heat waves rose from the ground and he saw Josh’s jacket. He drove as close as he could and dragged Josh far enough away before the explosion.”
“And Shane?”
“Just scrapes and bruises when he hit the ground.” He uncrossed his legs and braced his elbows on his knees. “And an unwarranted dose of guilt.”
“Guilt?”
“He can’t get it out of his head that he might have done the damage to Josh’s legs when he dragged him.”
“But, Max, the alternative—”
Max slapped his knees and stood. “I know. I’ve told him that. But until Josh walks again, Shane won’t listen to reason.”
Taylor pushed out of her chair and faced Max, feeling the effects of the worst week of her life. “Then we’ll just have to make sure Josh walks again, won’t we?” She tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth wouldn’t move.
Max smiled for her. “If anyone can do it, Taylor, it’s you...but it will mean a lot of extra hours. I know the timing couldn’t be worse—”
“The timing couldn’t be better. I need to work right now.”
He held her gaze and looked as if he wanted to say more. There was so much pain on his tanned face, the gray at his temples more pronounced than she remembered.
“I have a patient in postop. Will you be around a while?”
She nodded. “Either in PT or with Josh.”
“Good. There’s something we need to talk about.” He looked guilty suddenly, and she couldn’t imagine what was on his mind. “I—I know this is a terrible imposition, but I was hoping you might move out to the ranch when Josh goes home. He’ll need a lot of one-on-one time, and I doubt he’d work as well with me.” Taylor opened her mouth to speak, but Max stopped her. “Just think about it. No need to decide now.”
Taylor stood rooted in place and watched Max amble down the hall toward Recovery.
Move out to the ranch? The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Yet the idea of too much time alone in her small apartment had worried her. The move could help her as well as Josh.
Then why was she experiencing this shortness of breath? What was she afraid of? She knew and liked the family, and there was plenty of room for her in that big sprawling home.
Finally she puffed out her cheeks, burst out a long breath and headed for the Physical Therapy Unit. It was best not to think about the future right now.
Hard work. Lots of it. That’s what she needed.
Time would clear the cobwebs.
The patient load was lighter than usual, giving Taylor too much time to think. Each moment there was a break in the schedule, she thought of Josh upstairs, and confusion swirled in her head. Less than a week ago she didn’t even like the man. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him the few days a week she’d worked at the ranch clinic. Now she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts.
He was hurt. He needed her help. Staying at the ranch during his therapy made sense. Logic, logic, logic. It wasn’t working this time.
The last patient left and she strode toward Josh’s room, drawn there with a force she was too weary to analyze. When she arrived at his bedside, he opened his eyes and smiled his easy smile again.
“You’re back.”
“I said I would.”
“A
