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“Oh, I didn’t do anything. Not like that young woman who calmed you down with deep breathing.”
“She was dressed in yoga clothes. I would like to thank her, too. Do you know who she is?”
“No. I’m sorry, I don’t.” She looked remorseful, then her face brightened, and she motioned to the picture on the back bar. “Ledge was the only person there I recognized.”
Arden’s insides went into a free fall. Stunned, she divided a look between the photograph and the well-meaning woman’s smiling face. “Ledge?” said huskily.
“Ledge Burnet. The soldier in the picture. This is his uncle Henry’s place.”
“Yes. The bar…bartender told me who he is.” She swallowed dryly. “He was in the store that day? Are you sure?”
The older woman gave Arden an odd look. “Well, yes, honey. I can’t claim to be closely acquainted with Ledge, but he’s hard to mistake. And he was right there the whole time. It was him holding you till the paramedics arrived.”
He was there? Holding her?
“I thought for sure you would remember him.”
Absently, Arden shook her head. “No.” Holding her?
“Well, with what you were going through, that’s understandable.” She reflected a moment. “He was ready to throttle a man who took your picture on his cell phone. After they wheeled you out, Ledge bore down on him, dropped a few f-bombs, and threatened to stuff his phone where the sun don’t shine. He hung around, too, with several of us, waiting till we got word. Again, I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you.”
A fresh round of laughter erupted from the party table. Lois Miller looked over her shoulder in that direction, then said to Arden, “We’re telling naughty jokes. That one must’ve been a doozy.”
Arden worked at holding her smile steady. “You had better rejoin the party before you miss another one.”
She patted Arden’s shoulder. “I’m glad we got to chat. And really glad to see you looking so well.” She glanced at the picture. “If you come out here often enough, you’re bound to run into Ledge. You’ll have a chance to thank him, too.”
Chapter 8
Rusty rolled off his wife and flopped onto his back. She took a lot more effort than she was worth. After giving himself a couple of minutes to regain his breath, he swung his feet to the floor and bent down to retrieve his discarded trousers and undershorts, then got up and started for the bathroom.
From her side of the bed, she asked, “You’re getting up?”
“Go back to sleep.”
“I was hardly asleep.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He shut the bathroom door.
Judy called something through it, but he caught only the bitterness behind the words, not the words themselves, and they didn’t matter anyway. He took a shower just long enough to wash off his sweat, then dried hastily and went back into the bedroom.
Judy had turned onto her side, her back to him, the sheet pulled up over her shoulders. He took a pair of track shorts and a t-shirt from his chest of drawers and put them on, then headed for the door.
From the depths of her pillow, Judy mumbled, “Joey has a playoff game tomorrow at four-thirty.”
Joey was their oldest. He was a freshman in high school and already hoping for a college baseball scholarship. Rusty was hoping he would get one, too. Joey’s sister and little brother were close behind him in age. Having to funnel money into three institutes of higher learning at the same time made Rusty want to drive his fist through the wall.
He said, “I’ll make it if I can.”
Judy flopped onto her back and came up on her elbows. “If his team wins that game, they’ll play for the championship.”
“I’ll be there if I can.”
“Asshole.”
“Love you, too, sweetie.”
