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Roy hesitates for only a second before collecting my phone. He takes a deep breath and then answers.
I squeeze myself tight.
And I pray.
I pray.
I pray that Jonah will come back to me.
“Uh-huh … Uh-huh.”
Our front door creaks open. Both Muriel and Marie poke their heads out to listen. They must have heard the ring. Marie is clutching her stomach, Muriel is holding her breath.
“Yeah … Uh-huh …” Roy’s gaze darts to me and he swallows.
That isn’t good.
The news can’t be good.
I press my lips together in my struggle to control my sobs, as I fight to hold on to hope for the last possible second.
“Yeah … Okay … Thank you, sir.” Roy ends the call and sets my phone on the table. “They found his plane in a valley north of Palmer,” he confirms somberly. “He’s alive.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Two crashes in a year since I’ve met you. I’m beginning to think you’re bad luck, Barbie,” Jonah croaks from his hospital bed.
I burst into tears at the sound of his voice as relief overwhelms me.
“Hey, hey, hey …” He reaches with his good arm out, beckoning me.
“You jerk.” I slip my fingers into his and settle on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry.” He pulls my hand to his mouth. His lips are so dry. “I took a stupid risk. I didn’t think the storm would be that bad and if I stayed low in the valley, I’d be fine. I just … I wanted to get home to you so bad.”
“You almost didn’t make it back again, ever.” The downdraft Jonah got caught in slammed Veronica into the ground. The state trooper I spoke to said it was a good thing he was flying where he was, otherwise those wind gusts would likely have put him into the side of a mountain, and no one walks away from that.
As it is, Jonah has enough broken bones and cuts to keep him grounded and busy with healing.
He tries to adjust his position and winces.
“Stay put,” I scold, checking the IV drip attached to him that is administering his pain meds.
“Me and Roy are twins now.”
“Yeah. You two would have almost matched.” A concussion, a broken collarbone, a shattered left arm that required surgery and pins to put back together, several cracked ribs, a punctured lung, and scrapes and bruises all over his body.
But Jonah’s alive, I remind myself, as I’ve done a thousand times over since that phone call came in. That’s all that matters.
His jaw tenses as he stares at the ceiling tile above his bed. “They said Veronica’s totalled.”
“Yeah. I’ve already called the insurance company.”
“That was Wren’s favorite plane.”
It was his favorite plane. It was the last plane he ever flew, with me in the passenger seat. And I know that wrecking it hurts Jonah more than all his injuries combined.
I smooth a strand of hair off his forehead. “And he’d tell you that it’s just a plane and he’s happy you’re all right. I know because it’s what he said the last time you crashed his plane.”
