be checked over by a physician.
“You’re one lucky lady,” the driver of the ambulance told her as the EMTs repacked their equipment and prepared to leave the cemetery.
Michele didn’t feel lucky. Her thigh ached, and she must have pulled a muscle in her back when she landed on the rain-soaked grass. Nothing serious, she felt sure, but not what she wanted today, of all days.
Jamison stood away from the circle of first responders, cell phone jammed to his ear, as he relayed what had happened back to CID headquarters. She had warned him not to call her mother. Not yet, at least.
Roberta had enough to worry her without hearing her daughter was involved in a hit-and-run accident. Once the doctor at the hospital gave the all clear, Michele planned to call home with positive news that she was all right.
Disconnecting, Jamison approached the stretcher where she lay and touched her hand. His eyes were darker than usual, his brow drawn in what seemed like a continuous frown. Jamison had laughed so often when they were dating that she considered asking him to force a smile or, at least, relax the tension that tugged at his full lips.
She remembered how he used to tease her with his kisses. In the beginning, the warmth of his embrace and the sweet gentleness of his caresses had melted the cold interior of her heart, a heart that had frozen after Lance’s death.
Jamison had been a good influence when they’d dated. His optimism had rubbed off on her. Without realizing it at the time, Michele had started to share his vision of how life was meant to be lived, in the present and with hope for the future.
After she left Fort Rickman, the light Jamison had brought into her life dimmed, leaving a noticeable void.
Jamison’s love for life seemed to have diminished, as well. Could ten months have made such a significant difference in both of their lives?
Tragedy was transforming and not necessarily for the better. The shoot-out on post ten months ago could have been the catalyst that caused the change in Jamison. Or had something else been the reason?
Something or someone?
Unable to accept that she might be to blame for Jamison’s newfound gloom, Michele fisted her hands.
Jamison leaned over the stretcher, his face so close she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. “What’s wrong, Michele? Did you remember something?”
She remembered his kisses. “Did you tell Dawson not to call my mother?”
“I said you planned to notify her once you arrived at Freemont Hospital.”
The EMT tapped Jamison’s shoulder. “We’re ready to transport.”
He squeezed her hand and smiled, not only with his lips but also with his eyes. For a brief moment, his gaze bathed her in a warmth that took away the chilling fear that had blanketed her for too long.
“You’ll be with me at the hospital?” she asked, needing assurance he wouldn’t leave her.
“Ah, sir,” the medic interrupted. “You can drive your own vehicle and meet us at the E.R.”
Releasing her hand, Jamison took a step toward the surprised EMT and jammed his finger into the guy’s chest.
“Let’s get this straight. I’m riding in the ambulance with the patient.”
The medic’s eyes widened for a moment before he shrugged. “Whatever you say, sir.”
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