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CHAPTER
26
TOGETHER THE TWO women walked to the mini-clinic Gemma was setting up at the rear of the truck. The kids had scooted over so that the wounded man could sit on the end of the tailgate with them. Gemma had the first aid kit she and Dr. Hilary had put together by loading a fancy tackle box from Timberline’s boutique with whatever the lodge could spare and Hilary thought they might need—which included needles and suture thread as well as alcohol, painkillers, bandages, and a very few precious antibiotics.
Mercury rounded the truck, where she finally got a good look at the man who had saved Georgie. He was holding a square of bloody gauze against a gash in the side of his forehead.
“Ah, found it!” Gemma pulled out a tube of something with a victorious grin.
“What is it?” the man asked.
“You’ll be happy to hear it’s lidocaine,” Gemma said.
“So, you have to stitch this up?” he asked her.
“Only if you want it to heal right,” said Gemma.
He paused and then flashed straight white teeth at the girl. “You’re right. I’m happy it’s lidocaine.”
Mercury had to cough to cover a laugh, which had the man turning his attention to her. He has a nice face… His hair was dark sable, with just a hint of silver around his temples. It was long—past his shoulders. It’d been tied back, but most of it had escaped the leather-wrapped band so that it hung in damp clumps he’d pushed behind his ears. His eyes were rich, golden amber, much like his melanin-kissed skin. His full lips, framed by a closely shorn salt and pepper goatee and beard, lifted at the edges as one of the twins jumped off the tailgate and hurled himself at Mercury. The boy wrapped his arms around her waist and stared up at her adoringly.
“Hi there, uh, Cayden?” Mercury glanced at Georgie, who grinned at her and nodded. “Glad to see you’re okay.”
The boy’s grip on her tightened. Mercury ran her fingers through his corn silk hair. “And I’m okay too.”
His eyes filled with tears, which he blinked rapidly to try to keep them from overflowing. Mercury untangled his arms from around her waist and crouched in front of him. “I’m really okay. Look at me.” She stood and turned in a slow circle before crouching back before him. “See? Totally fine.”
His chin quivered and a tear escaped his eyes. He didn’t need to talk; she read the guilt in his gaze and pulled him into her arms so that his little head rested against her shoulder as his back shook with his sobs. Mercury thought her heart would melt inside her chest. She held him tightly and murmured over and over, “I’m okay. The fog isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. I’m okay.”
When Cayden finally stopped crying, Imani handed her a few squares of toilet paper, and Mercury cleaned off his face and told him, “Blow.” Then she smiled at the boy. “You were very brave. You did exactly what I asked you to do. I’m really proud of you.”
Cayden’s soft little post-crying hiccups and the way his eyes never left her made Mercury feel like she was queen of the world.
“Come on—I need to meet the man who saved your sister.” Mercury took his hand and led him to the tailgate. She lifted him and set him back beside Georgie before she turned to the man. “Hi, I’m Mercury Rhodes,” she said, holding out her hand.
He enfolded her hand in his, which was strong and warm and calloused. A smile hovered in his eyes. “Nice to meet you. I’m Oxford Diaz, but most people call me Ford.” Then he winced as Gemma took the gauze from him, blotted the gash in his forehead, and began applying lidocaine as close to the laceration as possible.
“Hold still,” Gemma said. “I’m technically not supposed to use this on an open wound, but Doc Hilary told me in a pinch I can spread it as close to the suture site as possible, and it’ll help with at least some of the pain.”
“Some relief is better than none.” He didn’t take his resin gaze from Mercury. “So, the green stuff doesn’t kill people every time it touches them.”
“What we’ve discovered is yes and no,” Mercury said. “It doesn’t kill women. So far, though, we’re pretty sure it does kill every male who breathes it in—though not always right away.”
“Well, then, I’m glad you saved the boys,” he said.
“And I’m glad you saved Georgie,” said Mercury.
Imani turned Georgie so she could towel dry and comb out her long hair. “We’re all glad you saved her.”
“I was lucky that I was there,” he said and flashed a wide grin at the girl. “Right, pequeña dama?”
“Si!” said Georgie. She sat up a little straighter and announced, “I went to a Spanish immersion school when we lived with Gramps and Gran.” The girl looked at Ford. “But your accent is different from my teacher’s.”
“Where was your teacher from, niñita?”
“Mexico City,” said Georgie proudly.
“Ah. I’m from here, but my grandparents were born in Puerto Rico, and when I speak Spanish, I speak it with their accent.”
