Christmas Rescue Route Page 2

  “May I speak with her, please?”

  Brock held the phone to Izzy’s ear and groped for her nearest hand.

  The dispatcher asked for Izzy’s name and then assured her help was on the way. “Is there anyone we can call for you?”

  “Oh, thank you.” Izzy’s eyes closed and she sagged. “My parents will be worried. Everett and Ardith Kahn. They live in the country between Ashland and Greenwood, Nebraska.”

  “I’ll call them as soon as I can, but only a cell number will work. Landlines are down in that area due to heavy sleet before the snow. They’re buried in snow right now, but I’m sure they’ll be relieved to know where you are. What’s that number?”

  Izzy gave it to the dispatcher.

  “Hand the phone to Mr. Winston, and please keep the line open until I can hear rescue sirens.”

  Brock set the phone near his light. “I don’t know how long the battery will last. May I shut off the light? I’m right here with you.”

  He kept eye contact until he clicked off the flashlight beam. “Mind if I hold your other hand? Warm you up some? And let’s keep talking until we hear the sirens.”

  Her fingers felt chilled but not icy.

  She squeezed and took a deep breath. “I grew up on gravel roads.”

  “Good. Then you know to use reasonable speed, especially during pouring rain or in this case, intermittent white-out conditions.”

  “I must have braked or hit black ice. I’m really thirsty. I don’t think anything is messed up because I don’t have internal pain. Think you could scoop up some snow to wet my tongue?”

  “I think I can manage that. I’ll also feel around the seats and floors for your phone.”

  “I’m pretty sure I heard it ping once, so it’s near, but probably buried in the snow. The snow can’t be good for it.”

  Brock dug out his gloves, and tried the door handle. He felt the release and pushed with all his might. It gave, and he almost fell into the snow. He found his balance and turned on his light.

  Izzy stifled a giggle. She must not be hurt bad, or maybe it helped to concentrate on him.

  His gloves couldn’t be clean. He removed his right glove, scooped up a handful of icy white and slid back on to the seat. He extended his hand as close as he dared. He knew she could lean her head forward, but instead of sticking out her tongue, she used her fingers to grasp a bite.

  “You should keep your hands warm.”

  “And you should talk. Your hands are far colder than mine.”

  She repeated the dip from his hand to her mouth twice, tucked her hand beneath the blanket. “Thanks. I needed that. Now put on your glove before you get frostbite after holding that snow.”

  He did just that and ran his gaze over her features again. He shut off the light.

  If he were a player, he’d ask her where she’d been all his life. Instead, he tucked the blanket over her chin. Those lips may have fit perfectly, had she sipped from the cup of his hand.

  Where had a thought like that come from, at such a time as this?

  ~*~

  Izzy licked her dry lips and leaned forward toward the snow, but movement remained restricted due to the seat belt. She lifted her gaze and wondered at the puzzled look on Brock’s face. Had he expected her to lap the snow from his hand like a dog, or nibble against his hand like a horse?

  “Oh, I’m grateful for the moisture in my mouth. Thank you.”

  “Izzy? Brock?” She’d forgotten Brock’s phone remained active. “Good idea regarding the snow.”

  “So you’re still there, dispatch lady?” Brock rubbed his icy hand on his coat and pulled Izzy’s sweatshirt sleeve over her fingers.

  Izzy silently thanked his continued thoughtfulness.

  A reassuring snuffle-laugh sounded from the phone. “I sure am. And I’ve received notice from the truck headed your way. You should hear Fire and Rescue soon. They just turned off the interstate.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Izzy said.

  “Just doing my job. You need to thank Mr. Winston.”

  “Oh, I know that. I do.” She curled her fingers between Brock’s and closed her eyes. She lost track of time, straining to hear the faint music of a siren in the distance. Lord, show me a way to thank Brock.

  “Hey, Izzy. You’ve got dispatch within hearing distance.” Brock let go her hand and backed away. “I’m going to step out for a minute, OK?”

  She immediately missed his warmth and concentrated on her breathing.

  A moment later, Brock slid in beside her. The temperature dropped in the front seat. Snow dripped off his coat sleeves. “I slid my feet around and found your backpack. The best news? It landed under a bush and covered your cell so it should be all right once it warms up.”

  “God did that. And God sent you to save me.” But all of a sudden, my brain is rattled.

  A siren rent the air.

  Brock spoke into his phone.

  Everything went black.

  She awakened to the warmth of a heated blanket accompanied by lots of noise.

  Commotion rattled her ears. Men’s voices. Loud noises. Whirs and metal crunching.

  “Welcome back. You scared me. But the EMTs checked you out and said you must have fainted.” Brock’s hands exuded heat. “Hang in there.”

  The world around the car was as lit up like a stage.

  “She’s awake.” Brock spoke to someone over her shoulder. “I need to step back and get out of the way. The guys will be using the Jaws of Life.”

  “I’ve seen a clip on TV.” The words hit the air and bounced back. She was talking to herself due to the wrenching snap of metal.

  A freezing blast of wet cold struck her from behind.

  “You were lucky to have him find and stay with you.” The voice came from close by her head. “We need to give a good yank here above your ankle, Izzy, and get you checked over for injury.”

  She searched for Brock’s face while muscular arms from behind and beside her turned her to lie flat against the driver’s seat.

  “Well, I’ll say it again. You’re gonna be one giant bruise come daylight, but as far as we can tell, you have no serious injuries. Just in case, we’ve got traction and a neck collar here.”

  All she could see was shadows. Where was Brock?

  “Izzy, I’ll be near.” She sighed over the news. He’s still close, the rescuer God sent to me.

  “We’ll get you on the backboard.” She had no choice but to relax her muscles and trust the experts as they manipulated her body.

  Tired, and cold again, she took her first deep breath in a long while. If she were an inventor, she’d devise a way to warm the plastic backboard. The heat blanket the EMTs had covered her with inside the car went only so far to deflect the frigid night. She closed her eyes as snow continued to swirl on her face. She tried to relax, but couldn’t.

  Mom and Dad would be worried.

  Once in a while, a pair of wide shoulders blocked the moisture from falling, and she’d sense the brush of forearms or shoulders as the men labored to get her safely up the incline. The snow must be deep, judging by the silent, slow steps of her rescuers.

  She drifted off. Brock’s touch woke her as he brushed aside her hair with his familiar hand. “You’re safe, about to get into the ambulance. I’ll follow you to the hospital.”

  Izzy liked his smell. Moments later, she was asleep again.

  Her eyes popped open. She couldn’t move.

  “No reason to be scared, Izzy. Don’t panic. You’re in good hands and we’ll be at the hospital soon.” The unseen speaker squeezed her shoulder.

  How long the ride to Lincoln took, she could only guess. She kept falling asleep. And she recalled no details except that she finally felt warm. She did wish for more light. Some kind of radio clicked, and she detected other voices. Alert again when the ambulance slowed and stopped at lights through city traffic, she tried to see those around her as she was jostled out of the ambulance and through the ER doors.

&n
bsp; Conversation and the padded footsteps of soft shoes drifted. Overhead lights and doorways slipped past. “Jingle Bells” played over a speaker. In a wide corridor, hospital personnel in well-practiced moves helped slide her from gurney to hospital bed.

  Shouldn’t Brock be here?

  “We had to extricate her from the vehicle.” The voice penetrated her thoughts.

  Someone else, presumably another hero, answered her questions about Brock and her parents. “Her real rescuer is right behind us. Her parents have been notified, but they’re snowed in east of here.”

  “I’m here, Izzy.” Cold air drifted off Brock’s body. “Once you’re settled, I’ll dial your folks so they can hear from you.”

  “God sent you to me. I want to know who you are. Talk to me, please, I had enough quiet out there in the front seat of my car. And leave the curtain open so the room feels bigger. I need some space around me.”

  Brock sloughed off his coat and neared her side. He covered her hand with his callused warmth. She welcomed the security of his presence. “I’ll tell you about me. But it’s only fair that you do likewise. Where do you want me to start?”

  In the lighted room she soaked in his looks. He must be tall, over six feet. He had a kind face. Nice blackish hair neither long nor too short. Nose more on the wide than narrow side. Were his eyes brown or green?

  He studied her as thoroughly as she searched his face. Then he cleared his throat. His mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. He gave her a quizzical look and encouraged her to speak by the open look in his eyes.

  Had she been staring? She closed her eyes. “Sorry. I guess I zoned out with my eyes wide open. Tell me the usual getting-to-know-you stuff. Home, job, family.”

  “Sounds fair. I own a hundred-year-old house not far from the downtown campus. Because it’s considered historical, I’ve had monetary breaks in the renovation. I rent the basement to a married student couple, who have gone home for the holidays. As for work, I’m the old jack-of-all trades. I know a little about a lot of things.” At a sound in the hall, he turned toward the door.

  Izzy caught her breath. She’d never seen such long eyelashes on a man. The light hit them just right. They even curled on the ends. No fair.

  A man in scrubs walked past.

  “Not coming for me just yet. What do you do besides fix up old houses?”

  “I’m facilities manager for Wildwood Community Church. Drives my dad nuts because he wanted me to go into the ministry like him. I pick up on things fast, but I get bored easily. I kept changing my major in college and finally dropped out after two years. I know electrical, plumbing, construction. Some basic mechanics, but not so much due to computers. I hate computers and can get frustrated using my phone.” His chuckle reached deep inside her. “You’ll probably remember none of that.”

  A hurried, straight-faced nurse, whose nametag read “Amy” interrupted. She checked Izzy’s IV. The monitor blipped. “Those fellas who brought you in do such a good job. Once we make sure everything is working all right, you won’t need this any longer.” She opened and closed cabinet doors and then turned to a computer screen.

  Izzy’s eyelids felt heavy, so she let them drift close.

  “I’m ready to get information from you, Izzy.”

  Nurse Amy startled Izzy. Was it normal after an unsettling incident to want to sleep?

  “Glad the accident didn’t cause serious injury—that we can tell, anyway. We’re about done. The doctor will be in soon. Sir? There’s coffee near the nurse’s station, if you could leave us for a few minutes.”

  Izzy answered personal and insurance questions.

  Nurse Amy finished up.

  A burly tech came in. “We’ve got a portable X-ray machine here to check your lower leg.”

  She appreciated the care but grew antsy to see Brock again. She needed him to call her parents. Mom must be frantic. And what time was it? Izzy relied on her phone way too much. Brock must have it with her backpack. Had the wet and cold damaged her cell? She took a deep breath and forced her muscles to relax while she waited for Brock to return.

  The tech repositioned her bed. “What time do you have?”

  He checked the phone in his pocket. “A wee past midnight.”

  At that news, her stomach growled. I hope Brock found something to eat.

  Doctor Sorenson entered her room, and thankfully, Brock followed. She gave him a wave and he mouthed, “Be right back.”

  “You are one fortunate young woman. X-rays show nothing broken. Your eyes look focused. I’m going to poke around some on your stomach. I understand you were forced into an unnatural position.” He touched her left side.

  Izzy groaned.

  “Sorry. Bruises already forming. You’ll be one huge ache within twenty-four hours.”

  “Colorful, too, I’m guessing. Do you have to do anything with my leg?”

  “We’ll get it wrapped. As I said, with that kind of pressure there could have been more damage.”

  “When can I get out of here? I haven’t talked to my parents. They’ll be worried sick, and I’ve kept them from getting their sleep.”

  “I’ve got your phone right here.” Brock waved from the doorway as he crumpled a candy bar wrapper.

  “Your rescuer can come in, I’m finished checking you out. Especially with the stormy weather, I want you to stay until daylight.” Doctor Sorenson left.

  Nurse Amy and Brock entered.

  Izzy reached for him and he handed her the cell.

  Within seconds, her mother answered. “We’ve been so worried.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I know you were praying.”

  “You got that right. You say fine, but are you hurt?”

  “I’m bruised and swollen. The glass scratched me in a few places. Thank Daddy again for giving me a safe car to drive.”

  “Now that we know you’re safe, we’ll call it a night. No one is moving out here. You wouldn’t believe the drifts. Is that man who found you nearby?”

  “He is, Mom. Brock is quite the hero.” Izzy handed him the phone.

  “Hello? Yes, Ms. Kahn. Not a problem at all. I’ll take care of her.” He passed the phone back to Izzy, and she said good night.

  “That was perfect timing.” Nurse Amy tucked her scissors in her smock pocket and tossed wrappers in the trash. “No more need for the IV since you’re good on the inside. Would you like ice cream, pudding, or a shake?”

  “A strawberry shake would be divine. I want a big breakfast in the morning.”

  “I’ll be back with that shake. We can slide in a recliner for you, Mr. Winston. Then it’s lights out for our patient as soon as that shake is finished. It’s officially Christmas Eve, and you two need to rest.”

  Brock neared and covered Izzy’s hand with his own.

  She’d come to rely on him more than she liked.

  He leaned over and smoothed the hair off her brow, looked into her eyes and smiled wide. He burst into laughter that tickled her deep inside.

  She laughed with him—over what she had no idea, but it felt grand to register the cause.

  His dear face was pitted with a single dimple in the groove of his right cheek.

  Their smiles created a mirror image of dimples.

  Izzy laughed again. She was alive and ready to take on a new adventure, even if that adventure was named Brock.

  3

  Brock blinked as his eyes adjusted to the world of white outside the hospital. He breathed deep, glad to be away from hospital smells. He stretched, whipped around, and almost ran into a giant planter filled with red and green sparkles of the season. He sidestepped and took care as he walked to the background hum of small snow movers working in the parking lot. Ordinarily he’d be doing the same at Wildwood Community, in order for their lot to be cleared for services later. He’d called church volunteers during the night and allocated the job.

  Job.

  He and Izzy still had a lot to talk about.

  If he were to guess, she’
d be graduating college soon. What would she think of him once he disclosed his employment as a glorified handy-man was at a church other than the one his father pastored?

  Izzy. What a kick, how they sported dimples on opposite cheeks.

  How long before he could get her home to her parents?

  Questions circled though his mind until he pulled up to the hospital doors. From the wheelchair, Izzy lifted her face to the sky. She lowered her chin and their gazes collided.

  Her eyes rounded. “This is one big truck.”

  “Hey, it’ll get you home safe. Let me help you up.”

  They said their good-byes to the aide and Brock rounded the hood. “Your bags are in the backseat. Must be presents for your family in the sacks?”

  “You got my bags from the trunk? Oh, joy; I can get into clean clothes. Brock, I don’t think I can ever say thank you enough times.”

  “It’s enough to smile and show me your pretty dimple. Sorry you have to put up with me on Christmas Eve. But your dad says even my 4x4 won’t get through until a foot of drifting snow has been cleared from the roads.”

  “I’m always up for an adventure. We’ll go to church tonight, won’t we?”

  “Of course, if you think you can put up with my family. My father pastors a large church in East Lincoln. We didn’t get to talk about it yet. How many are in your family?”

  “I have an older sister, Abigail, and she has a son named Chance. That’s all.”

  “Abigail, huh? She’ll fit right in. My sisters are Ali and Audra.”

  Izzy giggled. “Another A. My mom’s name is Ardith.”

  “Wouldn’t it be fun to get them all together?” He pulled off Vine Street and parked in a drive in front of a detached single garage. “Home, sweet home.”

  “You would have never made that turn in a car without getting stuck.”

  Before he could respond, the back door slammed open and banged against the siding.

  “Hey, bro. It’s about time you got home.”

  “Izzy, meet the baby of the family. Burt is staying with me while he attends university. He got off work too late to trek home himself last night, and he isn’t smart enough to wear a coat outside.”