After offering her a blanket from behind the seat and some coffee from his Thermos – both of which she gratefully accepted – he gave her a lecture on the dangers of hitchhiking while country music played softly in the background. She listened quietly, keeping her smiles to herself as she nodded contritely and murmured the appropriate responses. His voice was deep and bellowing, but laced with kindness. She had no desire to tell him the horrors she’d witnessed first-hand, or to relay the countless examples of evil and cruelty she’d encountered, so she let him ramble on, letting him believe that she had seen the error of her ways.
When he’d gotten it all off of his chest, they settled into a comfortable silence. Rebecca let her head lean against the window and closed her eyes. The rumble of the big engine, the warmth of the heater, and the rhythmic pounding of the rain and windshield wipers all conspired with Keith Urban’s velvety voice to lull her into a nap, where visions of a man with hard features, jet black hair, and icy blue eyes was waiting to cuss her out. Her lips curved in anticipation.
Kane. Such a strong name. Such a strong man. Even now her fingers tingled, remembering the feel of his hard body beneath them. Her heart stuttered at the laser-like force of his gaze. And her lips twitched at the echo of forceful words, empty words meant only to scare her into safety. It had been hard to resist the command in his voice, a strange compulsion to do as he wished even though it went against her instincts. That made him dangerous, for she had never had a problem doing what she felt was right. And it was a good thing she didn’t scare easily.
For the millionth time, she wondered how he was doing, and hoped that he got the medical attention he needed. His brothers assured her he would, and her gift for reading others told her they were honest and trustworthy enough to believe them. It allowed her the peace of mind to go back and do what she needed to do. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure she could have left him.
––––––––
“You sure you’re going to be okay, honey?” the trucker asked once again, his expression doubtful. He’d pulled into a truck stop off the interstate, the closest exit to her final destination.
“I’ll be fine, Hank,” she assured him, handing him the bag of goodies she’d purchased for him in the Quick Mart. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me out.”
Surprised, he peered into the bag. Above his whiskers, she swore she saw a hint of pink when he spotted the Yodels, Ho-Ho’s, Twinkies, and Oatmeal Cream Pies.
“The only catch is you have to promise you won’t eat them all at once,” she said, grinning.
“My Clara never lets me have these,” he murmured.
“Trust me, Hank. One or two of these bad boys a day won’t do you any harm. And life’s too short to go without goodies. Just remember – everything in moderation.”
It only took a minute before a grin spread across his face as well. “Everything in moderation. Yeah. I like that.”
“You’ve earned it,” she said.
“I dunno that I did you any favors,” he said, stowing the bag in his cab. “Sounds like everything from here on up is in bad shape. Maybe you should try to get a room ‘round here till this weather breaks.”
Rebecca was already shaking her head. “No, things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.” She gestured back toward a couple of National Guard trucks. “And these guys said they’d give me a lift. I’ll be in good hands.”
Chapter Three
Pine Ridge High School was designated as one of the emergency shelters for flood victims. Donations of medical supplies, food, blankets, cots, and clothing were arriving by the minute, along with National Guard trucks filled with people evacuated from the rapidly rising flood waters. Michael had taken over the school nurse’s office and set up a first aid center, but people were coming in faster than he could get to them. The others had gone down closer to the flood zones, using boats, rafts, and anything else they could to get residents out of immediate danger.
“Does anyone here have any medical training?” Michael called out hopefully to the chaotic gymnasium.
“I do.”
Michael searched for the source of the voice, finally finding it by looking down to where a woman was skillfully taping a swollen ankle.
“Good. Come with me.”
The woman finished, carefully securing the end and stood. She was dressed in jeans and a lightweight linen tunic that extended to her knees, very Middle-Eastern looking. Light golden brown hair was pulled back in a clasp; big brown eyes with an unusual, slightly almond shape regarded him with intelligence. Michael’s first thought was that something about her looked vaguely familiar.
“Have we met?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, following him into the hallway. “I’m just here for a visit.”
“You picked a hell of a time to visit,” Michael said with a friendly grin.
“Yeah,” she grinned back. “I’m not known for my impeccable timing.”