AFTER TEN O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY NIGHT, ANABELLE was in Cam’s office on the computer searching various craft Web sites when the phone rang.
Fear tightening her throat, she snatched up the phone. Only her children would call this late. And only if they were in trouble. “Hello.”
“Anabelle, it’s Sarah Fulton.” Her voice sounded shaky and distant.
Panic fluttered in her midsection. “What is it? Has something happened to Izzy?”
“No, not Isabel. Rafael.”
Dear Lord! “What happened?”
“I don’t know yet. A friend called me from the hospital. I’m going there now. Rafael is in the emergency room. One of the neighbors is coming over to be with Izzy while I’m gone.”
“That’s good. What can I do?”
By now, Cam had come into the office to find out what was wrong. Putting her hand over the phone, Anabelle whispered, “Rafael’s been hurt.”
“Could you come to the hospital too?” Sarah asked. “I won’t know what questions to ask. They may not even let me see him because we’re not…”
Not married, Anabelle mentally finished for her. Hospital rules: to avoid overcrowding and confusion, only family members with patients in the ER. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. They’ll let you see him.” Instinctively, she lifted her chin. “I’ll make sure of that.”
“Should I call Elena and Cesar?” Sarah asked, her voice tremulous.
“No, not yet. Let’s find out how seriously he’s been hurt before we do anything else.” And pray that his injuries are minor.
They both said good-bye and disconnected.
“What’s going on?” Cam asked.
“Sarah’s not sure. Rafael’s in the ER. He comes home on Friday nights to stay with Izzy over the weekend.” Anabelle headed for the closet to get her coat. “Maybe he was in an accident.” She pictured broken bones, a head injury, concussion. All of the injuries she had seen in patients who had experienced a vehicle collision.
“You want me to drive you?”
“No, it’s all right. The roads are clear.” No ice to cause slippery roads, which still left myriad possibilities—reckless driving, alcohol or drug impairment. Drivers had been known to have heart attacks behind the wheel and lose control of their car, crashing head-on into an innocent driver.
“You’ll call me if you need me?” Cam asked.
She kissed him. “I will. I promise.”
Not worried about the state of her hair or makeup, she hurried out to her Ford Fusion, got behind the wheel, and drove away. Only when she reached the street did she realize that she’d forgotten to turn on the headlights.
“Stop that, Anabelle Scott. You may be retired but you’re still a registered nurse. You do not get rattled in an emergency.”
But this was different. The son of one of her best friends had been hurt. And her friend was in Spain.
She groaned at the thought of having to notify Elena and Cesar that something awful had happened to Rafael. They’d both be heartsick they hadn’t been here to be with their son.
She reached the hospital to find Sarah in the ER lobby looking unsure of herself.
Anabelle took the girl’s arm and marched up to the ER receptionist.
“Hello, Marie,” Anabelle said. “We’re here for Rafael Rodriguez.”
“Oh yeah, an ambulance brought him in a while ago. He’s still in the ER.” She glanced curiously at Sarah and frowned. “Is Elena coming?”
“She’s in Spain on vacation. For now, we’re Rafael’s family,” Anabelle explained. “Buzz us in, would you?”
“Oh, sure.”
Still holding Sarah’s arm, Anabelle walked them through the automatic door and into the ER.
“Thank you,” Sarah whispered.
Anabelle smiled in return. Elena would have wanted Sarah to be here with Rafael.
Humming with activity, orderlies hustled to and from patients, taking some upstairs to Radiology or surgery, others to patient rooms. Nurses moved about in quiet efficiency, administering shots, cleaning wounds, checking pulse and blood pressure.
Down the near side of the room were several curtained examining cubicles. Anabelle glanced in each room as they passed.
“There he is!” Sarah cried. With a sob, she dashed into a cubicle. She paused only briefly to note the huge wrapping of gauze around his left hand, a jagged cut on his forehead and hair that looked like it had been singed short in the front. “Oh Rafael, I was so worried.” She nearly fell on him, soundly kissing him all over his face.
“Hey, shortcake, what are you doing here?” His voice sounded hoarse and the scent of smoke hovered in the examining room.
Had he been in a fire? Anabelle wondered.
“One of my friends in food service saw you arriving in an ambulance. He called me,” Sarah said.
With his good hand, he swept the tears from her cheeks. “Guess a guy can’t get away with anything in this town.” His dark eyes radiated fondness and caring. And love, Anabelle suspected.
Standing at the foot of the bed, Anabelle took in the intimate scene. Rafael had welcomed Sarah’s kisses and had called her shortcake, surely an affectionate name. They acted very much like a couple, a sea change from the time Sarah had first arrived in Deerford, and Rafael had gone out of his way to keep a distance between them.
Anabelle cleared her throat to remind them that she was also in the room. “How are you feeling, Rafael?”
“Hi, Anabelle. I’m okay.” He held up his bandaged hand. “Sort of messed myself up though.”
Sarah backed off without letting go of Rafael’s good hand.
“What happened?” Sarah asked.
“I was driving home, I’d left the academy a little later than I had intended. I was going to call to let you know I’d be late.” The tender look in his eyes was meant only for Sarah to see.
“Anyway, I was pretty close to Deerford when I noticed a farmhouse on fire right near the highway. Flames. Smoke. The whole ball game. There weren’t any fire trucks in sight. I was right near an exit, so I peeled off. When I got there, some old guy screamed at me that his daughter and two grandkids were sleeping upstairs. They hadn’t come out yet.”
“You went inside a burning house?” Sarah gasped, apparently reaching that conclusion based on his condition and the smell of smoke in his clothes.
He shrugged as though it was something he did every day. “Somebody had to; and the old farmer was so wrinkled and withered, he looked like a flock of geese flying by would blow him away.”
A fist of fear grabbed Anabelle’s heart and squeezed hard, nearly sending her into cardiac arrest. Rafael could have died!
Wide-eyed, Sarah asked, “What happened to the children?”
“I managed to get inside and up the stairs. It was really smoky.” He coughed at the memory. “By the time I got to the kids and their mother, the stairs were fully engulfed. I knew we couldn’t get out that way.”
“Did you have to jump?” Anabelle envisioned broken ankles for all of them.
A smile hitched up the corners of Rafael’s lips. “Nope. I did what I used to do when Daddy grounded me for something and I wanted to sneak out of the house. I yanked the sheets off of the mother’s bed, tied them together, and anchored them to the bed frame. I sent mom down first, and she helped to catch the kids.”
Anabelle wondered if Elena knew of her son’s youthful escapades.
Seeing Sarah turn as pale as one of those sheets, Anabelle dragged a chair over and made her sit down. “Put your head down between your knees,” she ordered.
“So how did you burn your hand?” Anabelle asked.
“The fire was traveling pretty fast. The curtains on the window we were going out caught, and I had to pull them down. Then, dumb me…”—he touched his injured forehead—“I cracked my head on the window frame trying to get out of there in a hurry. I half knocked myself out.”
Dr. David Weller, the ER physician, strolled into the cubicle. Out of his residency about four years, he wasn’t much older than Rafael. “How’s our hometown hero doing?”
“I’m no hero,” Rafael protested.
The doctor ignored his comment and shot a questioning look at Anabelle.
“I don’t know how he’s doing,” she said, “but the rest of us are thanking the good Lord he’s still in more or less one piece.”
“I’ll say an amen to that,” the doctor agreed, approaching Rafael. Using his flashlight, he checked Rafael’s eyes. “I’m a little concerned about his head injury. He may have a concussion.”
“I’ve just got a little headache, doc. I’m fine. Honest.”
“Maybe.” He glanced at Anabelle. “I thought you retired. Are you working tonight?”
“No, I’m a friend of the family. Elena and her husband are out of the country.”
“I see. Well, I could release Rafael to go home if there’s someone there to check him every two hours, see if his eyes are equal and reactive.”
“I can do that,” Sarah volunteered.
Dr. Weller raised his brows.
“Sarah is staying at Elena’s house to take care of her granddaughter—Rafael’s daughter, Isabel—while they’re away,” Anabelle explained.
“I’m Isabel’s mother.” Sarah stood as though ready to challenge the doctor if he questioned her right to be there.
Nodding, he said, “Rafael, are you all right with this young lady looking after you for the next twenty-four hours?”
“Fine with me.” He sat up on the edge of the bed and swung his legs over the side.
“All right. I’ll discharge you into her care. I’ve cleaned and sterilized your burns. That dressing ought to last the weekend, but you’ll have to keep it dry. You’ll need to see your own physician first thing Monday to have him check the dressing. And your concussion.”
“I’m in the Sheriff’s Academy, doctor. I can’t miss—”
“Yes, you can. The academy doesn’t want you there if you’re injured. Get clearance from your own doctor before you go back. Understood?”
Rafael’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, sir.”
“Okay. If he has any problems, young lady, you call 911 and get this hero back here in a hurry.”
“I will. Thank you.” Sarah knelt to help Rafael put on his shoes.
“I’m so grateful you weren’t seriously injured,” Anabelle said. “Because I know your mother and how worried she’d be, I’d like you to call her sometime tomorrow to tell her you’re all right. Otherwise, she might hear through the grapevine what happened and get on the next plane home.”
Rafael scowled. “There’s no need for her and Daddy to come home early.”
“You’re right, which is exactly why you need to call and reassure her. She left you her itinerary, didn’t she?”
“Minute by minute,” Sarah admitted.
“Then you’ll call her tomorrow?” She addressed Rafael in the same firm tone she’d used with her own children.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call her tomorrow.” Rafael stood up and helped Sarah to her feet.
“I’ll make sure he does,” she said.
Feeling confident Rafael was in good hands, Anabelle headed home herself. She had the distinct impression that the young couple was heading into a permanent relationship.
She knew Elena—and Isabel—would be pleased.
The following morning, Cam brought the newspaper in and dropped it on the kitchen table in front of Anabelle.
“Looks like Dr. Weller isn’t the only one who thinks Rafael is a hero,” Cam said.
Holding up her reading glasses, Anabelle read the headline splashed across the front page: ROOKIE OFFICER CALLED HERO. What followed was the story of Rafael saving a young mother and her two children at the risk of his own life. Both the mayor of Deerford and the police chief were quoted as saying Rafael deserved a Medal of Honor for his bravery.
Lowering her glasses, Anabelle said, “Rafael didn’t seem comfortable last night about being called a hero.”
“Given that headline and the story, I think he’d better get used to it.”
A little over a week later, Elena watched the skyline of Chicago appear out the airplane window. Since Rafael’s call, she’d vacillated between worrying over her son’s injuries and thrilling to the sights and sounds of Spain.
She’d been worried enough that she called Anabelle, who confirmed Rafael was being well cared for by Sarah. She thought Rafael would be able to return to his studies at the academy soon, although with limits on his physical training program.
Still, the need to actually see her son, hug him, and know for sure he was all right grew in her belly like a cancerous tumor. Strands of fear metastasized, paralyzing her brain and wrapping themselves around her heart.
She shivered and pulled her cardigan more snugly around her.
“Querida, no matter how hard you look, you won’t be able to see Rafael until we’re all the way through customs. He will be waiting for us beyond the roped-off area.”
“I know that.” She didn’t spare Cesar a look as she continued to stare out the window. “As soon as we land, I’m going to call him.”
With an amused chuckle, Cesar sat back in his seat.
The pilot announced, “Prepare for landing.” The flight attendants took one last pass through the plane before buckling themselves into their seats.
Moments later, the plane touched down, raced forward on the tarmac until the pilot reversed the engines, braking the plane to a slow taxi.
As soon as the flight attendant indicated it was all right to use electronic equipment, Elena used her cell phone to call Rafael.
“Hi, Mama. Welcome home.” The sweet sound of his voice brought tears to Elena’s eyes.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Sure. Sarah and Izzy and I are all here waiting for you. Was it a good flight?”
Elena wasn’t sure. She’d worried the whole time about her son.
Once the seat belt sign went off, Elena nearly shoved Cesar into the aisle to get their carry-on suitcase and jackets down from the overhead bin. She wanted to get through customs as quickly as they could.
The customs officials apparently had other ideas. The line moved as slowly as an aging caterpillar, weaving its way back and forth without any apparent progress.
At long last, they broke through the quagmire of bureaucratic paperwork. Elena dashed ahead, leaving Cesar to push the cart filled with suitcases.
Spotting Rafael in his gray Chicago Bulls hoodie sweatshirt, she cried out. Tears blurred her vision. She threw her arms around him, and he lifted her off of her feet.
“Easy, Mama. You’ll hurt yourself.”
She stepped back to arm’s length. “Let me look at you.”
The injury on his forehead had been closed with a few stitches. His burned hand was still red, the skin puckered, but no infection that she could see.
“You’re really all right?”
“The doc says in another week I’ll be doing push-ups and pull-ups with the rest of the class.”
Relief washed over her. Thank You, Lord.
Cesar shook Rafael’s hand and slapped him on the back. “I heard they’re calling you a hero.”
“It was nothing, Daddy. Right place at the right time.”
“Sounds to me like it was more than that,” Cesar said. “I’ve been following the story in the Deerford Dispatch online.”
“Buela, did you bring me anything from Spain?”
“I did, little one.” Elena knelt and squeezed Izzy in a big hug. Wearing bright pink tights under a pink felt skirt, she resembled an adorable Easter card. “Let’s wait until we get to the car and then I’ll show you.”
Still holding on to Izzy, Elena looked up at Sarah. “Thank you for taking care of my son. And Izzy.”
Her fair complexion turned a charming shade of pink. “I was happy to help.”
“Come on, folks,” Cesar said. “It’s a long ride home.”
Home sounded very good to Elena. Her own bed. Her own house filled with the people she loved.
When they reached the street, waiting to cross to the short-term parking lot, Cesar said, “I talked to Chief O’Hanlon the other day. He said the mayor is setting up some kind of ceremony to present you with a Law Enforcement Medal of Honor.”
“Yeah. I sure wish he wouldn’t do that, though. I’m being razzed like crazy by the guys at the academy.”
“I’m proud of you, Son. What you did tells me you’re going to be a great cop.”
The two of them exchanged a look of camaraderie. After all the years of Cesar pressuring Rafael to make something of himself—and Rafael fighting back—they had finally reached a point of mutual respect as well as love.
Elena smiled, counting this moment as a special blessing from the Lord.