Page 45 of His Wounded Heart

“Trenda, keep her here. I’ve got to find something to wrap her bedding in so that it doesn’t get wet while I transfer it into the backseat of the truck.”

Trenda stands up and pulls off the windbreaker I had given her. “Use this.”

“Perfect.”

I scoop up the four pillows and squish them together so that they fit under the jacket. “I need you to open the doors for me, so I can get this into the backseat.”

Trenda gently lays Violet back down on the bed, and I hear a crash from the living room. It doesn’t matter, we have to go. Trenda rushes out of the bedroom and I follow. I stalk past the overturned box of food on the floor, ignoring Luther crawling around. I assume he’s looking for cookies. Trenda has the door open, and ice-cold air whips into the house, even with the porch overhang. By the time I get outside she has the backseat door open. I shove the pillows into the backseat.

She climbs in and starts to arrange things, while I go back to get blankets. Violet is lying on the bed in the exact same position. She looks lifeless. I pray she can hang on long enough to make it to the hospital.

Chapter Eleven

“Slow down,” Luther wails for the eighty-seventh time. He sounds like he’s in anguish. I know he’s scared, but he isn’t helping. Plus, there’s the fact that I don’t know how Simon can see where he’s going. It’s a mystery to me.

“It’s all right, Luther. We’re going to be fine.” I try to say it in a soothing manner.

“We’re going to die.”

He’s rocking back and forth.

“Violet needs you.” I rummage through my purse and finally find a napkin from the bakery. I thrust it between the seats. “Take this, Luther. You need to wipe Violet’s forehead. It will help her.”

“We’re going to die,” he moans loudly.

“Take the napkin.”

“We’re going too fast,” he screeches.

Simon doesn’t even flinch. “Turn on the defroster, Trenda,” he asks me calmly. I look at the complicated dash and finally find it. I turn it on.

“We’re going to die.”

“Please take the napkin, Luther. Violet needs you. It will help make her well.” Luther reaches out, but he can’t reach it.

“I can’t.” His lower lip trembles, and he starts to cry. I unbuckle my belt and kneel up on my seat.

“Goddammit, Trenda, get your ass planted back in the seat and buckle your fucking belt!” Simon roars.

Terror races through me at the sound of a man’s rage. I force it down and press the napkin into Luther’s hand. “Take this.”

“We’re going to die,” Luther sobs as he looks me in the eye.

“Take care of your wife,” I respond, then turn and buckle back up.

“You ever do something that goddamned foolish again, I will tan your hide.” Simon’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel where they hadn’t been before. “Lady, you scared me to death,” he breathes softly.

With those last whispered words, every bit of my fear evaporates. This is not a man who’s going to abuse me. This is a man who protects people.

“I won’t. I promise.”

It was at that moment I realize Luther is quiet. I turn in my seat and see that he’s softly wiping Violet’s brow. I watch as he strokes back the thin strands of her white hair. He then kisses her forehead. “I’m taking care of you,” he whispers. “You’ll be better now.”

I feel the truck slip, and hear Simon growl. I look up and his shoulders and arms are tense as he pulls the steering wheel to the right. “Come on, Baby. Stick with me. It’s not much further,” he croons.

The inside of the truck is a million degrees with the defroster on, but I’m not going to take off my hat or gloves. I don’t want to do a darn thing that might interrupt Simon’s concentration. I peer out the window, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing, but it just looks like sheets of rain and an occasional blur of trees up ahead. I look over at the speedometer and see we’re going twenty-two miles an hour. Luther is right, it is too fast, but when I look behind me at Violet, I know it isn’t fast enough. The GPS in my hand shows we still have eight miles to go before we make it back to a paved road.

Violet starts to cough.