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“You're not lazy,” she answered without any hesitation. Man, she wished she'd chosen her words more carefully this morning. He'd been working just as hard if not harder than everyone else and not because he had to. He didn't live here, didn't have any family here. He could have just as easily directed everything from his office back in Virginia and had an assistant come out to give him updates. “Are you always this involved?”
Jake finished off his water and reached for an energy bar. “Just about. The foundation is my baby. I like to make sure it's being run properly. I can't do that by sitting behind a desk all day.”
If what she had seen here was any indication, the foundation and its employees ran like a well-oiled machine. Whatever else Jake Sherbrooke might be, he was a good leader. “I'm glad you offered aid. The town hasn't gotten a lot of support so far from the state.”
Jake rolled his shoulders as if trying to work out some stiffness and Charlie couldn't help but notice the way his chest muscles rippled under his shirt. Without warning, memories of how that chest felt under her hands when she'd crashed into him the day before filled her mind. The memory brought an instant twinge of desire to her insides, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to be held against his broad chest.
“The states have limited resources. They do the best they can but there's too much bureaucracy. That's one of the reasons I started the relief foundation.”
His words cut through her momentary day dream. “You started it?” She could hear the utter disbelief in her voice and the expression on Jake's face told her he had heard it as well.
“Even we playboys need something to do during the day when we are not cruising around in our expensive cars looking to pick up women.” Jake's voice was both sarcastic and amused at the same time.
Nice going. You've managed to insult him twice in one day. “I'm sorry. Really I didn't mean to...”
“You need to stop listening to the media, Doc. More than half of what they print is either pure B.S, or skewed beyond belief.”
Charlie opened her mouth to reply but the cell phone in Jake’s pocket went off at that exact moment.
“I need to take this. It's my assistant in Virginia.”
Without another word he left, leaving Charlie to wonder what else the media got wrong about Jake.
For the rest of the afternoon Charlie didn't see much of Jake. He had not spoken to her again after his phone call. Whether or not that was because he was annoyed by her earlier comments, she didn't know. After hanging up with his assistant he spent some time making other calls before the last few supply trucks rolled in and the volunteers returned to unload them. Every once in a while Charlie got the feeling that someone was watching her, but only once did she catch Jake eyeing her.
He's probably right, she thought as she helped carry things out to Mrs. Anderson's car. The news and media rarely got the important news right, so why would it get anything else right? Besides she should know by now not to judge a person without getting to know them. And even if Jake was a rich playboy who went from woman to woman it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that the town got the help it needed.
Turning to head back inside, Charlie stopped when she saw a short chubby figure running up the road toward the senior center. At first the person was too far away to make out a face, but when the individual got closer Charlie recognized the runner. Jessica Quinn lived at the bottom on the hill with her grandparents.
Panting, Jessica all but collapsed at Charlie's feet when she reached her. “My grandfather...fell...off... the ladder. Can't … get...up. No...phone or ...car.”
Charlie didn't wait for Jessica to continue. She knew Jessica's grandfather and a fall from a ladder could kill a man his age. “Don't move.”
Without any hesitation Charlie bolted into the senior center. Thankfully Jake stood just inside when she entered. “I need a ride … now.”
Jake pulled his keys from his pocket. “Let's go.” He didn't need any further explanation. He knew by her expression it must be important. Before he could say anymore, she rushed back out the door and was half way to his SUV.
“Where to?”
“Down the hill to the big old yellow house. Jessica's grandfather fell.” Charlie nodded towards the other woman who climbed into the backseat of the SUV. Charlie handed the woman her cell phone. “It's 911, tell them what happened.”
Gravel and dust kicked up as Jake sped out of the parking lot and he listened as Jessica answered the 911 dispatcher's questions from the backseat.
“He turned eighty last month. He wasn't moving when I left. Please hurry.” Jessica's voice quivered and he sped up. He could only imagine how she must be feeling.
There was no missing the huge monstrosity of a house with the crooked wooden sign hanging out front that read Blackthorne Farm; it was the only house on that stretch of road.
Before the truck came to a full stop Charlie opened the door and jumped out. Throwing the truck into park, Jake watched as she sprinted across the lawn toward the prone figure on the ground. Would it be better if he kept Jessica back at the truck, out of the way? An upset granddaughter might make the situation worse. Then again, Charlie might need help and who knew how long it might take for the EMTs to arrive. He'd passed the fire station on his way into town so he knew it was located on the other side of town.
Pulling the keys out of the ignition, Jake looked back at Jessica whose breathing remained labored from her run. “You're welcome to stay and wait here. I'm going to see if the doctor needs help.”
Jessica shook her head causing her light brown bangs to fall into her eyes. “I want to be with him and my grandmother.”
Jake could see the worry and fear etched on
her tear-stained face. He could understand her desire to be with her family. After getting out himself, he pulled open her door and helped her out of the SUV. Then he grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk and he followed Jessica up to the house where a seven-foot ladder remained propped against the house. On the ground lay an unmoving figure, his white hair covered in blood and his left arm bent at an unnatural angle. Next to him sat a weeping woman with a long gray braid and glasses.
“He's breathing but unconscious. His pulse is strong though,” Charlie said when they joined her. “I need something for his head. He's got a nasty gash and is losing more blood than I'm comfortable with. There is no question that his left arm is broken.”
