Megan's Hero (The Callahans of Texas Book #3): A Novel Page 5

  He polished off his supper, taking a little longer with the cake. Some things deserved extra appreciation.

  After putting the tray and dirty dishes on the designated counter, Will moseyed back to the emergency room waiting area. The clerk motioned for him to come over.

  “They’ve moved Miss Smith to room 135. Dr. Cindy said you could drop by there whenever you want to.”

  “Thanks.” Will flashed her a friendly smile and headed down the corridor. When he reached Megan’s room, the door was open, so he walked on in. As he’d requested, she had the room to herself. He hoped nobody blabbed and let her in on his secret. Since the hospital was only half full, she probably would have gotten a room to herself anyway, but he’d made sure of it.

  She held a thick wad of cotton over the vein in her elbow as the very pregnant lab technician stuck a piece of tape over it.

  “There you go, Miss Smith. No more torture tonight.” She made certain everything was secure on her cart and turned, pushing it toward the doorway. “Evenin’, Will.”

  “Evenin’, Ana. You just gonna keep working until that baby makes a grand entrance?”

  “Might as well. That way I’ll be close to the delivery room.” She smiled and rocked side to side. “I have about three weeks to go till Junior arrives, so I’m working only a couple of afternoon shifts a week. It’s usually pretty slow. Today is the exception. Say hello to Jenna for me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stepped aside so she could easily roll the cart out the door and turned toward Megan. Her hair was damp, and the skin on her arms a bit red. “You must feel better without all that dirt and glass.”

  “I do.” Her brow knit in a slight frown. “But I could have gotten rid of it myself. Peg brushed most of it off and then let me shower.”

  “So your idea to brush off what you could and hose off the rest would have worked.”

  “Yes. And saved the expense of being in here.”

  “I told you. Don’t worry about the expense.” He moved to the side of the bed. “I won’t mind if it takes you ten years to pay me back, or if you never repay me. But it would trouble me somethin’ awful if you hadn’t come in here and you or the baby had a problem.”

  “You’d feel responsible,” she said quietly. “Even though it was my decision.”

  “Yes, I would.” He pulled the lone chair closer to the bed and sat down.

  She studied him for a moment. “You have nice wide shoulders, Will Callahan, but you can’t carry the world on them.”

  He smiled and shook his head slightly. “Not interested in carrying the whole world—just my little corner of it.”

  “So you’re a fixer.”

  “I do what I can. We all do.”

  “All, as in your family?”

  He nodded. “It’s a long-held tradition. ’Course, sometimes folks consider it meddlin’ more than helping.”

  A hint of a smile hovered around her mouth. “Are you here to meddle?”

  “Maybe. But first let me tell you about my helpful brother and brother-in-law. They’ve been stomping around the pasture gathering up your belongings. Found one suitcase intact, but the others were smashed and the contents scattered.”

  “Probably from here to Amarillo.”

  He chuckled, glad to see she was more relaxed than she’d been in the emergency room. “That’s possible. But Chance said they found some clothes and other odds and ends. Including some baking stuff and your photo album of the cakes. It was still in the plastic bag, so the pictures weren’t damaged.” Her face lit up in a beautiful smile, and Will caught his breath. “So I assume you’re a baker?”

  “Just an amateur.”

  “He said those were some of the prettiest cakes and desserts he’d ever seen.”

  Her smile changed to one of shy pride. “They are pretty, and they tasted good too. My neighbor, Mrs. Hoffmann, got me interested in baking. She made the most wonderful German cakes, and she taught me how to make some of them. She passed away four years ago, but I’d caught the baking bug. So I took some cake decorating classes.” She winced and shifted her position on the bed. “I enjoy cooking in general, but I love to make desserts the most. I’m kind of a cooking show junkie.”

  So she hadn’t always been in dire straits.

  “Did your brother mention finding a plastic storage tub of recipes and cookbooks?” Sadness slipped across her face. “I had five years’ worth of recipes in that container.”

  “No, but if they haven’t run across it, we’ll keep searching.” Will stretched his legs out in front of him. “Should we look for a computer too?”

  “No, I finally sold it two months ago to help pay the rent. It was a great laptop, but old enough that I didn’t get a whole lot for it. Still, it kept me in the apartment for another month.”

  “In Austin?” When she raised an eyebrow, he shrugged one shoulder. “You gave the clerk an Austin post office box for your address, so I’m assuming you lived there.”

  “I did.”

  When she didn’t volunteer any more info, Will asked gently, “Have I gone to meddlin’?”

  She hesitated, looked away, and shook her head. “Not really. You deserve to know something about the person you’ve so generously helped. I’ve lived in Austin since I was sixteen. For the past four years, I worked in a real estate office. First as an assistant, then as an agent. I was doing okay before I got pregnant. I hadn’t sold anything in three months, but that’s not all that unusual. Sometimes you’ll have several months with sales, then a lull.

  “I had four listings, so I was spending money on advertising as well as the normal monthly expenses, including desk space, with nothing coming in. I’d started dipping into my savings last fall, even before I got pregnant and couldn’t work.” She smoothed the edge of the sheet over the top of the blanket.

  “After I got so sick, I had to turn my listings over to another agent, which cut down on the money going out. None of them sold, so I didn’t get any referral payments either. The listings expired, and the owners didn’t renew for various reasons. Two months ago, the office sold to another company that had its own group of agents. By the time I felt well enough to go back to work, there was no place to go.”

  “Couldn’t you move to another office?”

  “Yes, technically. I don’t have to renew my license until October. But I didn’t have the money to cover the expenses. Even without listings, you have to pay for a cell phone, internet at home, multiple listing services, and general office supplies. There is also the desk cost, your share of what it takes to run the company. Most places take a portion from each sale, but some require the money each month whether or not you have any sales. All my clients have moved to other agents, so I’d be starting pretty much at square one.

  “So now I’m looking for something that requires some computer skills—or a waitress position. Those are the two things I’m qualified to do.”

  “Waiting tables would be too hard on you.” He meant it in a concerned way, but somehow it sounded dismissive. She glanced at him sharply. “Sorry. I wasn’t being critical. It just seems like carrying heavy food trays and being on your feet all day would be tough. Where were you headed?”

  Again, she paused before meeting his gaze. “Originally I was thinking Lubbock, then decided Abilene might be better. If I don’t find any work there, I’ll go on to Dallas or Fort Worth.”

  “My mom is in Abilene for the day, but she wants you to stay at the ranch for a while.”

  “That’s very kind of her, but I don’t want to impose.”

  A nice polite phrase if he’d ever heard one. Where was she going to go? Did she plan to hitchhike and see where she wound up? He could tell her where she’d wind up—in trouble.

  Gently, brother. Remembering Chance’s admonition, Will drew in a deep, steadying breath. Stubborn woman. Did he have to be the bad guy and remind her that she couldn’t camp in her van anymore?

  “Do you have someplace else to go?” He was proud that he’d
kept his tone casual.

  “Not really. Is there a homeless shelter in Callahan Crossing?”

  “No. We had one set up at the church for a while last year after the fire, but it’s been closed for a long time.” Not that he’d let her stay there even if it was open. That gave him pause. Why was he being so possessive of this woman? “My mom likes to have guests at the ranch.”

  “I don’t want to be a bother to anyone.”

  “You won’t be. Mom will enjoy it. And her housekeeper, Ramona, will be glad to have someone else to cook for. She always prepares more than we need and then gripes because she winds up with too many leftovers. Years ago, she made the meals for the bachelor cowboys as well as our family. Now we have only two hired hands, and they’re both married. All of us kids live near the ranch house, so we eat there often, but whenever Jenna or my sister-in-law Emily decide to do their own cooking, it throws Ramona off her game.”

  Megan smiled wistfully. “I like leftovers.” Which told him she hadn’t had any for a while. “Okay. Just for a few days. Until I decide what to do with the van.”

  “Chance says it’s a mess.”

  “It is.”

  “Do you have insurance?”

  “Just liability. I had to drop everything else. I guess I’ll have to junk it.”

  “I don’t know if you’d get much for it. But if you aren’t in a hurry to leave, I have an idea for getting it fixed without costing much. A couple of high school kids I know want to open a body shop after they graduate next year. I think they’d love to work on it for the experience. If it’s all right with you, I’ll ask them to take a look at it.” They’d provide the labor, and he’d provide the parts. He expected she’d figure that out later when she didn’t have so much on her mind.

  “That would be great if it wouldn’t take too long to repair it.”

  “Won’t know until we ask them. It may not come out perfect, but usually they do good work.” Movement in the hallway drew his attention. Suppertime for the patients. “Can I get you anything before I head home?”

  “I’m fine for tonight, but I’ll need some of my clothes tomorrow. I don’t want to waltz out of here in this silly hospital gown.”

  “Might start a new fashion.” Will stood and set the chair back by the wall.

  “Thank you, Will. For everything.” Tears misted her eyes. She shook her head and wiped her eyes with her fingers. “Don’t mind me. I’m just pregnant.”

  “No kiddin’?” He gave her a wink and was rewarded with a chuckle. He walked around to the bedside table and rummaged through the drawer until he found a little notepad and pen. “Here’s my phone number.” He met her gaze. “I get up at five, but if you need something before then, call. I don’t care what time it is.”

  “Five?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We get up early. During the week, the folks have breakfast at six, even on Saturday. But they don’t rouse their guests that early. When Emily—that’s Chance’s wife—was staying with them, she rarely got up before seven. Even then it didn’t do any good to talk to her for a while until after she had her coffee. You’ll be able to get up whenever you want, but if you’re too late, you might have to settle for do-it-yourself cereal or throw a frozen waffle in the toaster.”

  “I can certainly do that. I don’t want to make any extra work for anyone.”

  “Y’all will get along fine.” He moved the tray table across the bed. “Eat plenty of supper and get some rest. Let the folks here pamper you a little bit.”

  And when she got to the ranch, he’d take over that chore—if she’d let him.

  6

  Megan had never heard anyone mention pampering along with a hospital stay, but after her supper was delivered a few minutes later, she decided they must be doing more than normal. With a large bowl of watermelon and cantaloupe chunks, a huge piece of chocolate cake, and the covered plate, there was barely room on the tray for the silverware.

  “I’ll get your milk,” said the young woman as she set the tray on the rolling table. “Be right back.”

  Megan removed the metal cover from her plate. The refreshing fragrance of lemon asparagus teased her nose, and the heaping mound of beef stroganoff, with what surely was extra beef, made her mouth water.

  The attendant returned with two cartons of milk instead of the one she’d checked off on the menu sheet.

  “Are these your normal portions?”

  “Dr. Cindy mentioned that you and the baby were a little underweight and said to give you a little extra. Alva—she’s the head cook—thought a lot extra was better.” Her eyes sparkled with humor.

  “I don’t think I can eat all of this, though it looks wonderful.”

  “Fill up on the main dish and veggie and save the fruit and cake for later. If you’re like I was when I was pregnant, you’ll be hungry again in a few hours.”

  “That’s true.”

  “They have a refrigerator near the nurses’ station. If you want them to keep the fruit cold, just ask. They also have juice, milk, and Jell-O.” The young woman reached into first one pocket, then the other of her pink uniform, taking out two packages of cheese and crackers, two of peanut butter and crackers, and three small bags of trail mix. “Alva sent these along in case you get hungry during the night. She thought they’d hold you better than Jell-O.”

  “Thank you. At this rate, I’ll gain five pounds before I leave in the morning.”

  After the woman left the room, Megan stared at the feast spread out before her. Even if she’d been able to afford any of this during the past month, she would have been compelled to make it last a couple of days. As a young child, she had learned to hoard food when she had some because too often there wasn’t any. She might have a package of crackers during the night for her baby’s sake, but the rest would go into her emergency stash.

  She took a bite of the stroganoff and sighed. Delicious. “I wonder if the cook will share her recipe?” she murmured, scooping up another forkful. Though it tasted rich and creamy, she doubted they’d use real cream in a hospital. To her amazement, she polished off all the main dish and the asparagus. She wasn’t even stuffed, just sleepy. She rolled the table out of the way and settled in for a nap.

  The nurse woke her up to check the baby. She held the fetal monitor disc in place for a couple of minutes, then the roar of a helicopter drew their attention. The nurse helped her out of bed, and they went to the window to watch it land.

  “Are they picking up the truck driver?” Megan asked.

  “Yes. They’re flying him to San Angelo.”

  “Is he going to be all right?”

  “The doctor thinks so, but things were touchy for a little while. Peg called a few minutes ago with a message from Mr. Bentley. He wanted us to let you know how he was and to thank you for helping him.”

  “I didn’t do much. Will would have found him anyway.”

  “What you did really helped. If his head wound had kept bleeding until Will reached him, he might not have made it. You were supposed to be there.”

  The nurse helped her get back into bed, though she didn’t really need the assistance. She paid little attention as the woman checked her vital signs then left the room.

  You were supposed to be there.

  If she’d been injured or killed in the tornado, Ted Bentley might be a lot worse off. Maybe not even alive. Had God saved her only because he wanted to save the trucker? Maybe God didn’t really care about her and Sweet Baby at all. She looked around the room, her gaze resting on the giant piece of chocolate cake. It had been months since she’d had dessert. The cake in itself was a gift, something she didn’t deserve.

  If he didn’t care about her—or at least the baby—why would Will Callahan have been the one to pick her up? Anybody could have brought her to the hospital, and the hospital would have had to treat her. It was the law. But if Will hadn’t insisted on helping her and hadn’t physically put her in his truck, she wouldn’t have come.

  “That doesn’t
matter,” she whispered, lowering the head of the bed, turning off the light, and settling down to try to get another half hour of sleep. “None of that matters. I made a promise to learn about you, God. To find a way to thank you for saving me and Sweet Baby. Even if you did it to rescue Mr. Bentley, I’m so very grateful. Maybe someday, somehow I can be good enough to deserve what you’ve done for us.”

  At 7:30 the next morning, Megan heard familiar footsteps coming down the hall. Will hadn’t been lying when he said he was an early riser. He tapped lightly on her open door, then walked into the room.

  She tried not to stare, but it was next to impossible. Western summer straw hat, burgundy shirt, crisply ironed blue jeans with a sharp crease, a big ol’ I-won-this-at-the-rodeo belt buckle, and him all freshly shaven and smelling um-um good—it all added up to one drool-worthy cowboy with a capital C.

  Here she was in a pale-blue checked hospital gown—totally the wrong color for her—no makeup, smashed frizzy bed-hair, dark circles from lack of sleep, and her mouth full of scrambled eggs and toast.

  His dark, serious eyes lit up when he saw her, even before he smiled. The concern in his expression melted into tenderness and joy. Her heart rate shifted into overdrive, and her mouth went dry.

  “Good mornin’.” Removing the hat, he laid it upside down on the end of the bed, well beyond the reach of her feet, and finger-combed his hair.

  Megan swallowed her food and croaked, “Good morning.” She cleared her throat and took a sip of orange juice. “You’re out and about early.”

  “I have a bank board meeting this morning, so I thought I’d drop by and visit with you a spell. With all the excitement yesterday, I forgot all about the meeting. But we won’t leave you stranded. Mom and the girls will be by later to pick you up.”

  “Oh, okay.” Great. That sounded brilliant. She’d been able to talk to him fine yesterday. Why was she being a dunce this morning? Because no man had ever looked at her the way Will just did. “I hope I’m not being a bother.”

  “Not a bit. Mom said they were coming to town this morning anyway.” He angled the chair toward her and sat down, stretching out his long legs. “How are you feeling? Did you get any sleep?”