style="font-size:15px;"> His hand—his right hand holding his coffee—started to shake. Setting the cup down in the van’s drink holder, he concentrated on driving. If the van lurched along at a slightly slower pace than was normal for this stretch of road, that was all right. The sun wasn’t very high in the sky and there wasn’t much traffic.
Two black-and-white police cars whizzed by, lights flashing, sirens screaming, racing toward the convenience store. Cody watched their progression in his rearview mirror, then turned his attention back to the desert road.
He couldn’t have stayed. The press would have had a field day. He could see the headline in the tabloids now: Washed Up Action Hero Makes a Real Rescue. Or worse. No, he wanted no part of it. He’d seen firsthand how the media destroyed people’s lives.
Hell, he’d been one of their supreme achievements.
He drove until he reached a shopping center, complete with grocery store, drugstore, dry cleaner, pet shop, a bagel shop, a health-food store and a Mexican restaurant. Feeling as if he were operating the van in slow motion, he guided it into the parking lot, where he chose a parking space on the far side of the stores. Turning off the ignition, he sat in the driver’s seat, staring ahead, seeing nothing.
Talk about a wake-up call. Today had been nothing short of a sharp smack to the side of his head.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, but finally he shook his head and reached for the bag of jelly doughnuts. He ate first one, then the other, then drank some of the strong, warm coffee. Just the ordinary feel of eating something, just the everyday smell of coffee, the taste of powdered sugar and raspberry jelly, was enough for him right now.
It comforted him.
Cody closed his eyes, then opened them quickly as he saw brief flashes of the robbery in his mind. Better to see what was actually out there. He focused his gaze on a cactus on the side of the parking lot and took a few deep breaths.
He’d been scared to death going into that store. But all he’d known was that he couldn’t let those two people inside die. Both of them so young and filled with promise. Both thinking they had all the time in the world when he knew that wasn’t true at all.
Older and wearier—but not necessarily wiser—he knew better than to take an optimistic attitude to life.
He checked his watch. He didn’t have to report to the set until noon, so he could afford to take a short nap. Even though he knew he probably wouldn’t sleep, he needed to breathe, to feel, to close his eyes and center himself. He could still feel the adrenaline buzzing through his bloodstream.
Thankful that the van only possessed its two front seats, while the rest of the vehicle was used for hauling equipment around, Cody got out of his seat and maneuvered himself into the back of the van. Someone had left an old sleeping bag there, and he unzipped it and spread it out, knowing it would offer his back some cushioning against the metal floor of the van. He stretched out on top of the thick material.
And thought about the blond woman. He wondered how she was feeling, where she’d been going, what was going to happen to her now. He wondered what would have happened if there had been no robbery this morning and if he’d been able to talk to her while she’d made her purchases.
Something about her had pulled at him. A flare of attraction. But something else.
He sighed. Stretched. Closed his eyes. Tried not to replay the robbery in his mind. Thought of his father’s ranch in Texas, the way it had been. The creek. Quarter horses grazing. The wind singing through the trees, the green tops and silvery undersides of the leaves making that subtle contrast in the sun. The smell of the earth. The feel of that sun on his shoulders.
It worked. Slowly but surely it worked. Despite the odds, he found a measure of peace.
JEN DIDN’T FEEL ANYTHING until she saw the young cashier’s mother enter the convenience store. An attractive brunette in her late thirties, she strode right over to her son, enfolding him in her arms.
“Oh, Johnny, are you all right?” Jen heard as the concerned female voice floated out from behind the counter. And as she watched mother and son, her eyes filled.
Her own mother had died when she was seven. Cancer had taken her quickly. Her father had provided Jen with every material comfort, except for the things she had really craved—love, understanding, acceptance and his time. Now, in this convenience store, if her father had come to help her, the first words out of his aristocratic mouth would have been blame. He was a master at assigning blame and instilling guilt. Something along the lines of What did you do?
She wondered if the clerk—Johnny—knew how very lucky he was.
She answered all the questions put to her by the police officers as best as she could. Concerned for Johnny, Jen sensed he felt the robbery was somehow his fault, or at least he didn’t believe he’d handled it as well as he could have. Needing to reassure him, perhaps as much for herself as for him, she approached the back of the store, where mother and son were now sitting.
Johnny had told the officers his full name was John McGann. Jen directed her attention to the young man’s mother. She didn’t think Johnny was in any shape to hear what she wanted to say.
“Mrs. McGann?” she said.
The clerk’s mother glanced up, her skin pale, her hazel eyes worried.
“I just wanted you to know your son was very brave. When—when we were behind the counter and we couldn’t see what was going on, he used his body to protect me. He would have—” She didn’t have to go on. All three of them knew what would have happened.
“Who was this man?” Mrs. McGann whispered, obviously referring to the stranger who had subdued the robber. “Why didn’t he stay?”
“I don’t know. But—but I thanked him. I—”
I don’t even know your name or how to thank you or—
Actually she hadn’t. She’d tried to, but she hadn’t.
“Well, he was an angel, protecting the two of you,” the older woman said. She eyed Jen. “Are you all right, hon? Would you like to come back home with us and have a cup of coffee or something? Maybe talk about it a little?”
When Jen didn’t answer, she said, “Do your folks live nearby? Is there anyone I can call to come and be with you?”
Another employee had arrived, ready to take over, as Johnny was clearly being given the rest of the day off. Jen hesitated. There had always been that part of her that had yearned for a mother, and Mrs. McGann was obviously a very good one, offering nurturing and support to her during the aftermath of this crisis. But Jen had a sudden intuition that if she didn’t get back on the road immediately, she might lose her nerve altogether and hightail it back to Chicago and the life her father wanted for her.
“That’s very kind, but I have to be in Phoenix later this morning.” Which was a lie. She had no one waiting for her in Phoenix. No one at all.
“I understand,” Mrs. McGann said, but Jen had the feeling she saw much more than she commented on. Funny how most mothers had that funny little sixth sense that clued them in to what was really going on. “But if you need to talk or anything, here’s my number. I’ll give you both home and work. And my cell. You can call me anytime. Anytime
