Olivia’s face. “I didn’t realize he could hear us. I haven’t talked with him yet or made a firm decision.”
“He had a point, though. And what would Logan say?”
“He won’t want us to leave town, but...” She watched the children disappear into the barn and stifled the need to go after them. “I didn’t mean to upset Nick. I’ll give him a bit of time, then talk to him.” She hesitated. “But I have to think about my business, too. Our means of support.”
“Olivia.”
Determined to avoid any more talk with Sawyer, she left him standing there and started toward a small group of other guests gathered near the porch. On the front steps, Blossom held her bridal bouquet aloft. An excited bunch of younger women were waving their arms, hoping to catch the spray of white roses, baby’s breath and calla lilies and be the next to marry.
After she’d made the toss, Blossom came down the steps, her gait somewhat impeded by her gown and her obvious pregnancy. Her unhappy previous relationship was behind her now. This baby, although not hers with Logan, would be born into love, would be cherished...as Olivia cherished Nick.
Blossom said, “Thank you for the gorgeous quilt.”
“My pleasure. Best wishes.”
Olivia said goodbye to Blossom, then started toward the barn. She was halfway there when nine-year-old Ava burst outside and tore up the hill, her eyes wide as she barreled into Olivia.
She caught the little girl’s shoulders. “What is it, Ava?”
Breathless, she could hardly speak. “Nick! He fell. I think he’s dead!”
SAWYER HAD FINALLY found a chance to speak to Logan. They had just started to talk, when a little girl he didn’t recognize shot out of the barn, waving her arms and shouting. Halfway up the hill, she ran straight into Olivia, and Sawyer watched Olivia’s face turn white.
Logan was already running toward them. “Nicky!” he yelled. “Nicky!”
As if his boots were glued to the spot, Sawyer stayed where he was. For a guy who’d always responded to any crisis stat, who’d studied and interned, done his residency and practiced medicine under the worst trauma conditions, he couldn’t seem to move.
Nicky. His nephew’s name alone should have galvanized Sawyer but didn’t. He heard the girl’s words echo, sounding thick inside his head, as if both ears were plugged. Dead.
A dozen images of disaster flashed in his mind. A man pulled from the rubble, one of his arms crushed. A pregnant woman, her cuts and scrapes ignored as she went into labor on the hard, rock-strewn ground, moaning in pain. A precious child...
From behind him, Blossom loped across the lawn, holding up her bridal skirts, then passed him by. Several other late-leaving wedding guests rushed with her to the barn.
And still he didn’t move.
After a long moment, he realized Olivia hadn’t, either. With one hand over her mouth, her blue eyes wide circles of fear, she stood there, frozen like some ice statue. The little girl clung now to her skirt.
“Stay here,” he said, finally forcing his legs into motion. On his way past, he lightly touched Olivia’s shoulder. “Let me check out the situation.”
She didn’t answer. Pulse thumping, he left her and, like some caboose at the end of a train when he was used to being the steam engine, followed the last people into the barn.
He couldn’t see through the circle of wedding guests in the aisle, their bodies blocking his view.
“Move back. I’m a doctor,” he said but in a weak tone.
Logan was the last person to obey his order. He’d been down on one knee, bending helplessly over his little boy. Sawyer felt the same way. Those other images kept running through his brain.
He pushed the memories aside. “Let me see, Logan.”
Logan didn’t have a trace of color left in his face. He got up but his gaze didn’t leave his son.
Sawyer’s nephew—the small blond boy he’d never seen in person until tonight—lay half-conscious, sprawled on his back on the barn floor. His skin gray, his eyes closed, he looked almost peaceful.
Sawyer assessed his condition—airway, breathing, circulation. He preferred the few photos he’d seen of Nick, his birth announcement with a newborn picture attached to the email, the baby looking as if he were already able to smile, and later a first-birthday party shot of him in his high chair. Happy times in which he’d had pink cheeks and bright eyes.
He felt Nick’s fine-boned wrist again for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. “Light,” he said, adding silently, and a bit thready. He didn’t want to worry people.
Blossom drew Logan close. He rested his forehead against hers. “Thank God.”
His hand shaking, Sawyer raised each of Nick’s eyelids to assess his pupils. He didn’t like the look of them. “Come on, Nick. Talk to me. Squeeze my hand.”
Show me something here. Though he knew Nick was still alive, the word dead kept spinning through his mind, reminding him of that other child who, because of Sawyer, wasn’t breathing any more. He examined the boy’s legs, his arms, searching for fractures.
“No obvious breaks,” he said, turning to Logan. Sawyer wouldn’t mention a possible skull fracture. Nick needed a more thorough assessment than he could provide here, and he was no neurologist.
The little girl who’d called for help had entered the barn with a woman who must be her mother. She was vaguely familiar, but his focus stayed on Nick.
Without glancing at her again, Sawyer asked the girl, “What happened here?”
Her voice quavered. “Nick was mad at his mom. We came to the barn. I thought we were going to see the kitten, but Nick climbed the ladder to the hayloft instead. He told me to go away.” She began to cry. “I didn’t see how it happened. But he fell.”
Sawyer patted Nick’s cheek to stimulate him. He heard a shuffle in the aisle. A couple of people shifted to let her through, and Olivia was finally there, moving like someone in a bad dream.
Sawyer said, “He must have hit his head pretty hard. He’ll need a neuro consult, but first...” He looked around. “Where’s Doc?” he asked, referring to the local physician who’d treated Sawyer as a kid. There weren’t many choices in Barren, and Sawyer supposed he was Nick’s doctor now. “I saw him earlier at the reception.”
“He went home,” Blossom murmured.
“You’re here,” he heard Olivia say in a firmer tone than he might have expected. Or no, it was exactly what he expected. It was almost an accusation, and another memory assailed him. Sawyer and Olivia, racing their horses across that nearby field until...he hadn’t yelled a warning in time. Did she think of him now as a last resort?
His
