Page 69 of Lightning in a Mason Jar
Libby’s—Mary Jo’s—words still echoed in my mind as I walked in to see Russell. For now he was in a private room, a blessing, because more than anything I needed to curl up against him, and heaven help any staff member who tried to evict me from his side. “Russell, my love.”
I couldn’t choke out anything more. Not yet. I was too close to tears.
He extended his good arm to me, his movements slow from either pain or the remnants of anesthesia. Maybe both. I ran to his bed and clutched his hand, raining kisses and tears over him.
“Winnie, lower that bedrail. I need to hold you,” he said, his voice raspy from the fire and intubation during surgery.
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I dropped the silver railing and eased onto the narrow bed by increments, carefully, until I settled against him. Home. “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”
“It would be worth it.”
He drew me closer to his good side, and I nudged the neck of his hospital gown enough that I could press my cheek against his warm brown skin. I listened to the steady thud of his heart in his chest, the beat echoed by the machine behind me. I had to restrain myself from hugging him tight. My fear of him dying overwhelmed me, and I needed to anchor him to this world.
The love of my life.
His hand cupped my shoulder, his chin resting on my head. Everything I could have wanted even before I’d known a relationship like ours could exist.
I closed my eyes and treasured the moment as I embraced our future. “I would like to wear your grandmother’s ring.”
He exhaled in relief, burying his face in my hair. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”
His answer pried a much-needed laugh from me, but then Russell had that gift—knowing just how to help me shed my fear and relax into the joy. I angled back to look at him, and his smile was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “Russell Davis, I hope you know how much I love you.”
“Sure do, and I can’t believe I get to tell you how much I love you every day for as long as I draw breath.”
I wished I’d never given him cause to doubt me. But I was also learning to look forward. I lost track of how long we lay together in that bed, letting the depth of our feelings and commitment saturate our souls. There was a special kind of beauty in moving from the tumultuous part of “finding” each other to the peaceful assuredness of our future.
His fingers circled lightly on my shoulder. “How’s Libby?”
“Doing better than you are, actually,” I answered against his neck. “The doctor said she can go home in the morning. They’re only keeping her overnight because of the concussion.”
He nodded against my hair. “I guess I’m going to be laid up for a while recovering.”
“I’m here for you,” I promised without hesitation. “Whatever you need to heal and get back onto the racing circuit.” I couldn’t bear it if my mistakes cost Russell the pastime that brought him so much joy. I didn’t know how I could have foreseen Fred Gordon, but guilt hammered me all the same.
“Honey,” he said, his voice soft and rumbling against my ear, “I’m probably not going to be racing anymore. The doctor believes the nerve damage in my arm is extensive, and I need quick reflexes behind the wheel.”
My brain would not compute his words. This couldn’t be happening.
“Then we’ll find other doctors, better ones,” I insisted, as if I could heal him through sheer force of will. “I’ll drive you to those specialists myself.” My stomach went queasy at the thought of leaving my cocoon here in Bent Oak, but I would wade through alligator-infested swamps barefoot to get Russell whatever he needed.
“Hold on, Winnie girl—I hear you and I’m thankful. We can talk about options more with the surgeon later.”
I could tell he was just pacifying me, but he had the upper hand here, being the patient. “Russell, you should rest. You’re right. We can discuss it when you’re feeling better.”
“Just so that you know, even if the wonders of medicine somehow magically cure all the damage, that brush with death tonight pulled the world into sharper focus.”
“What do you mean?” The sheets rustled as I shifted to get a better look at his face.
“I helped my grandmother for years, but more as a way of assisting her. If her passion would have been woodworking, I would have beenin the workshop sweeping up sawdust.” He drew in a ragged breath, his eyes haunted. “Until tonight, I didn’t fully feel the weight, the desperation, of these women and children. Tonight, I really registered their helplessness, just as I’d seen it in people while I was in Vietnam during the war. People who’d lost control of their world.”
The connection he made caught me by surprise, but there was no denying Libby had lived in a domestic war zone. “You don’t talk about your time over there very often.”
“I was lucky not to see much in the way of combat. But my deployment made an impression all the same as we helped deliver Red Cross supplies.”
“Like you’ve been driving aid here at home.” I promised myself I would dig deeper into his experiences overseas, but later.
“Yes, and tonight was the first time I looked into the eyes of the evil the women we transport have faced. It changed my perspective.” There was no mistaking the intensity and conviction in his voice. “I don’t think I can go back to my old ways, pursuing a finish line for the thrill of it. I have a new dream now that is very personal, and one I hope you’ll join me in bringing to life.”
