Page 33

Chapter 33

Tobias

The drive back to Whispering Pines blurred into a streak of headlights and rain-slick asphalt. I drove mechanically, muscle memory carrying me around curves I knew by heart while my mind raced ahead to Ruth. My speedometer climbed well above the limit, but I couldn't make myself ease off the gas. Not with those images playing in my head.

Two hours and seventeen minutes. That's how long it took me to make what should have been a three-hour drive. It was nearly two thirty a.m. when I pulled into the hospital parking lot, the emergency entrance lit up like a beacon in the darkness.

The automatic doors parted with a soft hiss, revealing a nearly empty waiting room. A young couple huddled in one corner, the woman's eyes red-rimmed from crying. An elderly man dozed in a chair near the television, which flickered silently with late-night infomercials. My badge and a nod got me past the ER night nurse. Goodness knows I've walked these halls enough throughout my career, if I had a flag on a stick I could give tours. Not that our small town hospital is big by any means. I'm just glad we have a hospital in town. The two night nurses at the station looked up as I approached.

"Kind of late for you to be out, isn't it Sheriff?" Marjorie Sloan, who I went to high school with, asked.

"Hey, Marjorie," I nodded, "Elaine," I gave a small smile to the other nurse. "I need to see Ruth Manchester."

"She's sleeping." Marjorie informed me. "I didn't know you and Ruth were friends." Everything about her demeanor said she was waiting for me to explain. If she was, she might want to get a snack because she'll be waiting a while.

"We are. What room?" I asked again. "And what is the extent of her injuries?"

Marjorie hesitated so I looked at Elaine who smiled, "She's got some facial cuts and a fracture, plus internal bruising. Nothing that won't heal. The Doctor wanted her to stay the night for observation. I'm sure she'll be able to go home in the morning."

Nothing that won't heal. The words should have been comforting, but they weren't.

"Thanks." I turned and made my way to Ruth's room.

The shadows in the room did nothing to soften the reality of how Ruth looked. I had to take a moment to regain my composure. Ruth lay unnaturally still, her normally vibrant presence diminished by the stark hospital setting. One side of her face was so swollen I hardly recognized her. Bruises bloomed across her skin in violent patterns of purple and blue. A split in her lower lip had been stitched closed. I closed my eyes and stood listening to the hum of the monitors.

Man, I fucking hate hospitals.

I moved closer, each step heavier than the last. An IV dripped clear fluid into her arm. Monitors tracked her vital signs. Her copper hair, usually so bright and alive, lay flat against the white pillowcase.

My throat closed as memories surfaced, Joan in a similar bed, surrounded by similar machines. Her body that had fought such a hard fight was now weak and frail. My beautiful wife, who I knew I was losing. I used to come into her room at night and sit by the side of the bed to hold her hand. She never woke up but I told myself she knew I was there. There was nothing I could do to help her, nothing. I hated that feeling, and now the same helpless feeling clawed at my insides.

I sank into the chair beside Ruth's bed, my legs no longer able to support me. This was my fault. All of it. If I hadn't pushed her away, if I'd stayed close instead of creating distance, if I'd been honest about my feelings instead of hiding behind excuses she wouldn't have been working late tonight. She would have been with me, safe.

Carefully, afraid of causing more pain, I reached for her hand. Her skin was warm, her fingers limp in mine. She didn't stir.

"I'm so sorry, Roo," I whispered, my voice breaking on her name. "I'm so damn sorry."

She remained still, her breathing steady, her features relaxed in drug-induced sleep. I traced the outline of her hand with my thumb, cataloging each delicate bone, the soft skin of her palm, the small callus at the base of her index finger from years of working with flower stems.

I couldn't reconcile this broken, battered woman with the vibrant force of nature who'd stormed into the grocery store and proclaimed her worth to the world. Who'd faced down my insecurities and called me on my bullshit. Who'd created beauty with her hands and brought joy with her smile. Who'd with just a look, turned me on more than any other woman in a long, long time.

"You were right," I told her sleeping form. "I'm a dumb ass. The dumbest. I should have told you the truth from the start."

The machines continued their rhythmic beeping, the only response to my confession.

A soft knock at the door interrupted my vigil. Marjorie slipped into the room.

"Sheriff?" she whispered, "time to check her vitals."

I nodded, reluctantly releasing Ruth's hand. I stood and backed up to give the nurse space to work. She moved efficiently, checking monitors and making notes on a tablet.

"She didn't wake up when I touched her," I said, unable to keep the worry from my voice.

Marjorie offered a reassuring smile. "That's normal. The doctor ordered some pretty strong pain medication. Her CAT scan was clear, she didn't have any brain bleeds or skull fractures from the blows to her head nor from her hitting the floor. But she's going to be uncomfortable for a while. She'll likely be discharged tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" The word came out sharper than I intended. "She–"

"I know it looks bad," she said gently. "Facial injuries always do. But she's tough. She told the ER staff what she did to the guy."

"She was able to talk when she arrived?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes, she came to shortly after she arrived. She knocked him cold with a water filled five-gallon bucket. I would have loved to have seen her swinging that thing around. Dude was still unconscious when your deputies arrived." There was unmistakable admiration in her voice. "Takes a special kind of bravery to stand up to three guys like that."

"That's Ruth," I said, a flicker of pride cutting through my guilt. "She's strong."

The nurse finished her checks and headed for the door, pausing before she left. "Tobias, you look exhausted, you should try to get some rest yourself."

After she'd gone, I reclaimed my place at Ruth's side, taking her hand in mine again. No way I was leaving her, not right now. I couldn't bear the thought, not even for sleep's sake.

"I should have been there," I whispered. "I'm sorry." The weight of the situation I'd created pressed down on me, heavier with each passing minute.

Ruth's fingers twitched slightly in mine, but her eyes remained closed.

"You fight Roo, I know everything will hurt but you'll be alright." I closed my eyes while rubbing my thumb over the top of her hand. Instantly I was in the dark room sitting next to Joan.

"It's ok to go love, we'll be alright." I opened my eyes to Ruth's room. Shaking my head while I wiped away the tears. "Please Roo, be ok, please. Even if you hate me for what I've done. Just please be ok."

Dr. Salinger popped into my mind. What would it cost me to choose differently this time? The answer was clear now. The real cost hadn't been in choosing to be with Ruth, it had been the opposite, in choosing to stay away. In trying to control everything, I'd controlled nothing, if not making it worse. In trying to keep her safe by staying distant, I'd left her more vulnerable.

I settled deeper into the uncomfortable chair, still holding her hand. The steady rhythm of her breathing and the gentle beep of the monitors created a lullaby of sorts. Despite my determination to keep watch, exhaustion pulled at me. The adrenaline that had fueled my frantic drive was fading, leaving bone-deep weariness in its wake.

I fought against sleep, wanting to be alert if Ruth woke, but my body had other ideas. My head grew heavy, my eyes burning with the effort to keep them open. Eventually, still holding Ruth's hand, I surrendered to exhaustion.

I dreamed of Joan. Not Joan in her hospital bed, pale and withered by cancer, but Joan as she had been before her life was stolen from us. Her vibrant, laughing, full of life attitude. She stood in our garden, surrounded by the flowers she'd loved, looking at me with gentle exasperation.

"You always were stubborn," she said, her voice exactly as I remembered it. "Always so afraid of making a mistake, of what people would think. So much so that you miss what's right in front of you." She shook her head, smiled a sad but loving smile. "Caring for everyone else doesn't mean you don't care for yourself too. What if you made the choice to love her?"

I woke up with a start, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting thin strips of gold across Ruth's bed. She was still asleep, her hand still in mine.

"Tobias," Holly said, touching my shoulder again.

A glance at my watch showed it was six fifteen. My body ached from the awkward position in the chair, but I couldn't bring myself to regret it. I'd needed to be here, needed to be with her, to know at the end of the night that she was still breathing.

"Here," Holly handed me a coffee. "I thought you could use this."

"How," I cleared my throat and whispered. "How did you know I was here?"

"You know that tracking program you had put on the deputies' phones? Yeah, I added it to yours too." She smiled a bright proud of herself smile. "For the record, I added it to mine too. I figured it wouldn't hurt."

I looked at Ruth, studied her face in the growing light. The bruises seemed darker now, her swelling more pronounced. But her breathing was even, her monitors steady. She was alive. She would heal.

"I figured this is where you would want to be." Holly said while she looked at Ruth. "Elaine said Ruth was going to be fine, sore but fine."

"Yeah, thank goodness. I need to contact the vet and find out about Joey."

"I talked to them last night. He's fine, he'll need recovery time but he'll be fine. It could have been so much worse for both of them."

"Thanks, Holly." I looked at her. "For everything, for putting up with me. But especially for not becoming a detective."

Holly laughed a muffled laugh. "No thanks necessary."

I took a sip of coffee. "Do you know the details of what happened at the shop last night?"

Holly explained what the guys had told her. The information Ruth had shared going in and out of consciousness.

"She said something about one of the men yelling about the scanner. We aren't sure what that means."

"Scanner?" The realization smacked me. "That's how they're gone before we get there. They're using police scanners."

Holly's eyes grew large. "Oh, those little bastards."

"The man that Ruth knocked out, is he here?" I asked before taking another sip.

"No, the doctor released him to our custody last night. Sang booked him in. He's in a cell."

One of the men who tried to hurt Ruth was in my jail. My jail, my territory. Something dark and primal inside me flared to life. I needed to see him. Needed to look into the eyes of someone who thought hurting Ruth was acceptable.

Gently, I released her hand and stood, stretching cramped muscles. Ruth didn't stir. I bent and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, careful to avoid her injuries.

"Let's go." I said to Holly. "And stop that stupid smiling."