her tied up in the past.
Daron was still reliving that moment when he saw his friend Andy die, caught in the blast of an IED. He remembered the face of the kid who had led them all, knowingly or unknowingly, into danger.
Just a week before that explosion, Andy had learned that Emma was pregnant. He’d shown all the guys the ultrasound picture of the baby, the tiny dot he’d claimed would be his son. Andy had divorced Emma, not realizing she was pregnant. And she’d let him go, he said, because she wouldn’t force a guy to stay in her life.
Daron had made a promise to his dying friend that he’d check on Emma, make sure she and the baby were okay.
Daron had kept that promise. But after more than three years, maybe it was time to walk away.
Emma came in from the barn on Thursday morning to find her granddad in the kitchen making up a cold remedy concoction that smelled a little bit like mint and a whole lot like something he’d cleaned out of the corral. He held the cup up, his grin a little lopsided beneath his shaggy mustache. His overalls, loose over an old cotton T-shirt, reminded her he’d lost weight recently. But he was still her granddad, her hero. She wanted him to live forever.
From the bedroom she could hear Jamie coughing. “I’m going to call the doctor.”
Art pushed the cup into her hand. “Give her a sip of this. It’ll help that cough.”
She held the brew to her nose. “Art, what in the world is in this?”
“Mint to clear up her cough, some spices from the cabinet and a little cayenne.”
“We can’t give her this. She’ll choke.”
His mustache twitched. “It always worked for you.”
“No, it didn’t. I poured it out and then made a face so you would think it worked.”
“And here I thought I’d invented a cold cure.”
She set the cup down and gave him a tight hug. “You cured a lot of things, Granddad. Like loneliness and broken hearts. But you can’t cure that cough. You can’t cure her. And I know you want to.”
His blue eyes watered. With a hand that trembled a bit more than it had a year ago, he pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. “I’d give this farm to cure her.”
“I know you would. So would I.” Emma brushed a hand down his arm, then turned her attention to the kitchen cabinet, intent on finding the right cough medicine and the inhaler that would clear her daughter’s lungs.
But the asthma and the cold were the least of their problems.
The coughing started up again. She hurried down the hall to the room she shared with her daughter. The teenage posters of Emma’s high school years had been taken off the walls and replaced with pictures of kittens and puppies. The twin beds were covered with quilts that Art’s wife, a grandmother Emma had never known, had made.
Jamie was curled on her side, her blue eyes seeking Emma as she walked through the door. She’d seemed to be getting over this virus, but last night she’d taken a turn for the worse. Emma had known they would be seeing the doctor today.
“Hey, kiddo, need something for that cough?”
Jamie sniffled and rubbed her blanket against her face. Her cheeks were red and her eyes watery. Emma had given her something for the fever before she went out to the barn an hour ago. A hand to her daughter’s forehead proved that this time a dose of over-the-counter fever reducer wasn’t going to cut it. She leaned to kiss Jamie’s cheek and managed a reassuring smile.
“We’re going to get you dressed and take you to the doctor, okay?”
Jamie nodded and crawled into Emma’s lap. Emma brushed a hand through the silky curls.
“Mama,” Jamie cried, her voice weak.
“I know, honey. Sit up and take this medicine, and then I’ll call Duke and tell him I won’t be in today.”
“Everything okay in here?” Art’s gruff but tender voice called from the doorway.
Emma glanced back over her shoulder. “We’re good. But we’re going to take a drive in to town to see Dr. Ted. You want to go?”
“Nah, I’ll stay here. But if you need anything, you call and I’ll head to town straightaway.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine. I think we just need something stronger than what I can buy at the pharmacy.”
“That would be my guess.” Her granddad stepped into the room, his smile tender for his great-granddaughter. “Ladybug, you need to get better so we can start learning to ride that pony of yours.”
Jamie smiled a weak little smile, but her eyes lit up. “Blacky.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. He’s a pretty little pony.” Art brushed a hand through her hair. “Now, you be a good girl for your mommy and I’ll make chicken noodle soup for you for dinner. They say that’s a good cure for a cold. Better than my tea, I’ve been told.”
Jamie grinned and the tension surrounding Emma’s heart eased just a bit. “We’ll be home soon, Art. Don’t try to fix that tractor by yourself. We’ll work on it together. If it has to wait until tomorrow, that’s fine.”
Art frowned. “Now, don’t go getting sassy with me. I’ve been working on tractors since before you were born. I’m old, but I’m not feeble or ready for the rest home just yet.”
“I agree, but there is no use getting hurt.”
“No, there isn’t. But you don’t need to worry about me.” He gave her a quick hug. “Go call the doctor.”
An hour later Emma was carrying Jamie through the Braswell Hospital toward the pediatric unit, where Dr. Ted assured her they had a bed waiting. He wanted to put Jamie on intravenous antibiotics and to run some tests. In Emma’s arms, Jamie felt too light, too small to be facing something so overwhelming.
Emma felt so alone. She suddenly wanted her granddad there with her. Then she started thinking about Daron McKay, and how he’d been watching over them for the past three years. Right now she wouldn’t even complain about him being where he wasn’t invited. Because never in her life had she felt so alone. And never had she wanted company more than she did at that moment.
As she approached the nurses’ station, a somewhat familiar face stepped out from behind the desk. Samantha Martin, now Jenkins, smiled at the two of them. Duke’s younger sister had a friendly openness about her. She’d married a couple of years ago, and from the tiny bump near her waistline, it appeared she might be expecting.
“Ted said you were on your way up.” Samantha touched Jamie’s brow and offered a reassuring smile. “And you’ve got quite a fever. Let’s get you in bed and see if we can get you cooled down.”
Emma followed Samantha down the hall and into a room with green walls and a view of an open
