Page 35 of The Love Bus

FRAGILE HEARTS

A t our final stop of the day, our group split up, some heading toward Double Arch while the rest of us followed the trail looping around to the Windows Arch.

Neither trail was even a mile long. Easy. A nice, scenic stroll.

At least, that was what I told myself.

With the sun even hotter now, the ache in my head was more of a drumbeat, and my mouth was as dry as the dirt under my feet. My arms and legs were heavy, my energy dipping faster than I wanted to admit.

Oh, look at that. Turns out tequila isn’t a great hydration strategy.

At least my skin wasn’t burning any more than it already had yesterday. Thanks to Noah.

I craned my neck back so I could glance over at him.

“Are you a runner?” I asked. He’d had no trouble catching Morty’s hat.

“Every day.”

“Of course you are,” I grumbled beneath my breath, though he must have heard me, because I heard him chuckle. I sent a playful kick at his feet that he skipped over easily. He could probably run circles around me the whole time and still not break a sweat.

“There’s so much to do in this area. I wouldn’t mind coming back sometime.” He sent me a little half smile, then went back to looking around. “Although…I feel lucky to just see this place.”

I took a second to appreciate the vastness, the abundance of rust-colored stones and dirt dotted with specks of green, the scorching sun, and the sky above, blue and endless.

Limitless.

There were small signs of life here and there—a lizard the size of one of my fingers basking on a rock near my feet, a couple of cacti and scraggly bushes—but the landscape was a desolate one. No water as far as I could see, and hardly any shade for miles.

I licked my lips, tasting sunscreen instead of sweat, and feeling a new level of exhaustion. That drink of water I’d swallowed felt like ages ago, and my pride had kept me from asking for some of Noah’s, but now? Now I was rethinking that too.

I opened my mouth, ready to just give in and ask, but before I could, a voice rang out behind us.

“Doctor Noah!”

The urgency in Tay’s tone had us all stopping to turn around.

Noah reacted instantly, his spine snapping straight, body tensing like he’d been switched into a different mode entirely.

Tay was running toward us, her face flushed, waving one arm wildly. “Noah! It’s Roger! He’s having chest pains.”

He was already moving toward her. I scrambled to keep up.

“Did you call 911?” he called back, practically sprinting back toward the trailhead, his pack slamming against his back as he went.

“Joey did!” I barely heard her answer. “But…”

I could hear the unspoken, “But…they might not get here in time.”

By the time the paramedics had showed up at the post office, Dad was already gone.

The heat, my thirst, the dull headache—it all disappeared under the sharp, jarring reality of the moment.

Just beyond where the bus had parked, we found Roger sitting on the ground, leaning back against a rock, his camera on the ground beside him, his face pale and oddly dry looking.

Helen was kneeling beside him, gripping his hand, murmuring words too soft for me to hear. Fear rolled off her in waves.

Noah dropped to his haunches, all business. “Roger, can you hear me?”

The older man let out a wheezy chuckle. “Yeah, doc. Not deaf yet.”

Noah gave a tight nod, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he checked Ed’s pulse, then reached into his pack. He brought out a blister pack of aspirin and a bottle of water, better than any boy scout.

Why, oh, why had I snapped at him for offering me a little sunscreen?

I swallowed hard, watching as he pressed two white pills into Roger’s palm. “Chew those. Don’t just swallow. Chewing gets it into your system faster.”

Roger fumbled but was able to pop the aspirin into his mouth, wincing as he crunched down on them. I sympathized. Those things had to taste awful.

Helen glanced up, her voice wavering. “What do I do?”

Noah handed her the water bottle. “Help him drink a little of this. Small sips.”

She did as she was told, her hand shaking as she held the bottle to Roger’s lips.

A few minutes later—what had to be several minutes now since Joe called 911—we were at last able to make out the distant wail of sirens approaching. The collective sense of relief was palpable.

Still holding Roger’s wrist, Noah sat back on his heels, watching the older man closely, looking concerned but calm. “Try to relax, Roger. Your heart’s working overtime, but the aspirin should help.”

I stood by Helen, watching everything unfold, my hand resting lightly on her shoulder. She hadn’t let go of Roger’s hand, and when he squeezed hers back, she let out a shaky breath.

“I told you to slow down,” she muttered. “You old fool.”

Roger cracked an exhausted smile. “But we’re on vacation. I didn’t want to get left behind; we’d miss out on all the fun.”

Helen huffed a watery laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

The sirens grew louder, and soon, an ambulance pulled into the parking lot. The EMTs spilled out, hauling gear.

Noah stepped back, giving them space, but providing vital details in clipped, precise terms. “Irregular pulse. History of high blood pressure. Took aspirin five minutes ago. Complaining of chest pressure, radiating down the left arm. Late sixties?”

“Sixty-eight,” Helen provided. Noah nodded and continued.

The way he spoke—so sure, so steady—reminded me of our conversation earlier. The nightmares from things he’d gone through at work. An important meeting when he got home.

But watching him now—calm, focused, steady as he tended to Roger—I knew it.

Being a doctor wasn’t just a job for him.

It was who he was .

The way he moved, the way he kept his voice low and reassuring, the way everyone around him instinctively listened—he wasn’t performing. He wasn’t even thinking about it.

He was just being .

He looked after people.

He took care of people.

Noah Grady was one of those precious few in the world.

A helper.

The kind of person who runs toward the crisis instead of away.

I stood there as Noah climbed into the back of the ambulance at Helen’s request, never hesitating.

The doors shut.

The sirens blared.

The dust left in the ambulance’s wake fell slowly in the still, hot air. Everything else—the red rock formations, the dirt wedged between my toes, and the broken strap hanging off my poor sandal—felt horribly insignificant.

I took a deep breath and let it out, trying to process what had just happened.

Beside me, Tay stood motionless, hands on her hips, her eyes locked on the spot where the ambulance had disappeared down the winding road.

Then, with a small shake of her head, she rolled her shoulders, visibly resetting. “I hate it when this happens.” Her voice was even, but I caught the flicker of something in it—heartache? It wasn’t like her at all.

“I can’t imagine,” I said.

Tay let out a humorless chuckle. “Happens almost every trip.”

Joe, standing a few feet away, looked at her askance. “You serious?”

She turned toward us and sighed. “For some of these people, this is the trip of a lifetime. But that also means… sometimes, they’re not as up for it as they think they are.

” She tugged on the end of her ponytail.

“Fortunately for my passengers, I usually have at least one retired nurse on the trip. Roger was lucky we have a doc on this one.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded, struggling to absorb the weight of it.

“Are you okay?” I asked after a few seconds had passed in silence.

Tay’s lips quirked, her usual confidence slipping back into place. “Me? Yeah. It’s just part of the job at this point.”

I hesitated, then nudged her lightly with my elbow. “Well, you handled it like a pro.”

That got a small, tired grin out of her. “Yeah, well…I save my meltdowns for the bar.”

Joey let out a snort. “That explains a lot.”

Tay inhaled deeply, scanning the parking lot before checking her watch.

“So…what now?” Joey asked.

Tay straightened. “We wait for everyone to get back. Then we get on with the trip. At least Roger waited ‘til we’d hit all our stops today.”

Joey nodded, rubbing his chin.

I rubbed a fist over my chest. I’d been worried more about Ed, to be honest, with the way he was abusing his blood pressure medication. I couldn’t have imagined it would be Roger.

I swiped at my eyes and sent a prayer into the universe that Roger’s fate wouldn’t be the same as my dad’s.

For Helen’s sake as well as his own. I knew those two had been together for decades, but I didn’t know if they had any kids or grandkids or any other family waiting for them at home. Siblings, nieces, nephews, friends… I didn’t want to think about it.

Most of our group had trickled back across the parking lot now that the ambulance was gone, and Tay clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everyone, quick announcement before we head out.” She paused, scanning the group with a reassuring smile.

“You probably heard the sirens. Roger had a little issue. Nothing to worry about—Dr. Noah and Helen are with him. He’s being taken to the hospital in Moab, though, so I know he’s in good hands. ”

A few murmurs rippled through the small crowd, concerned and sympathetic but not panicked.

Tay didn’t give them time to dwell. “I’ll keep you all updated as soon as I hear anything. In the meantime, we’re sticking to the itinerary. Let’s get back to Grand Junction, hydrate, grab some food, and get a good night’s sleep.”

With that, she gestured toward the bus door, and within minutes, we were back on the road.

Only now, the mood on the bus was a stark contrast to the laughter and teasing from this morning.

The usual hum of conversation had dulled to a low murmur, solemn, observing an unspoken need to show respect for what had happened.

The empty seats—Roger’s and Helen’s—were a sad reminder, and the air around them just seemed heavy.

Babs took up her seat beside Mrs. Grady again, leaving my row strangely hollow.

I could’ve stretched out, maybe even taken a nap.

But I didn’t.

I glanced down at my water bottle—completely empty.

I considered asking Tay for another, but she’d already dealt with enough. She was doing her best to keep everyone steady, and I didn’t want to add me to the list of things she had to manage.

I could wait.

So instead, I leaned my pounding head against the cool glass of the window, watching the winding river snake past, then more red rock, more desert, more blurry shrubs.

I felt bone tired.

Heavier than usual.

Just seeing Roger like that—struggling to breathe, slumped in his seat—had left me completely wrung out.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Tay’s face, the way her usual brightness had dimmed.

And Noah...at work, he probably dealt with moments like that all the time.

People expected doctors to compartmentalize. To power through.

To flip some invisible switch and not feel anything.

But I wasn’t sure Noah did that.

I let my eyes slip closed, blocking out the sun and the motion and the low hum of the bus.

The day my father collapsed, he’d been at work, behind the counter at the post office, probably sorting through a stack of mail, the way he did every morning. Like he’d done for over thirty years.

From what I’d been told, he’d been chatting with one of the regulars, smiling, laughing, completely unaware that something inside him was about to give out.

And when it did—when that first crushing pain hit—he hadn’t been alone. There had been customers, employees, and people who called 911 right away.

But not my mother. Not Ashley.

Not me.

The doctors had been adamant that he hadn’t stood a chance. So, even if there had been someone like Noah there to push aspirin into his hand, he never would have made it.

I hated that I hadn’t been there. Leo reminded me over and over that it wouldn’t have made any difference.

But…it might have.

For my dad, even if it was only to bring him some comfort in his last moments. And for me too. It might have given me the chance to say a proper goodbye.

To hug him one last time.

I’d visited Mom and Dad two weeks before he passed, but I’d cut that visit short, rushing back to Newport, to Leo and the show. Now, I couldn’t even remember what had seemed so important at the time.

I swallowed back the stinging threat of tears, shifting in my seat.

He’d been gone two years now.

Dad had always been the easy one. The fun one. The one who had laughed more than he yelled, who let things go, who had never made me feel like I needed to be someone else.

My mom was the one who’d scolded me about my messy room. The one who sighed every time I forgot something important. The one who, without fail, reminded me that, from the moment I entered this world, I’d been her biggest challenge. Her little Lunatic. Looney Tunes.

And she just couldn’t leave those names in the past. To this day, it was how she introduced me to her friends.

Jokingly. Of course.

“My little Looney Tunes,” she’d say with an exasperated laugh. “When she was in sixth grade, she had a book report due, and she swore up and down that she’d finished it, but she couldn’t find it. We spent all morning going through her room. Remember where it was, Luna?”

She’d told this story more times than I could count.

“It was in her backpack—along with a fossilized sandwhich, her dirty gym clothes, and two other assignments she’d forgotten to turn in. I should have realized back then that she wasn’t college material.”

Cue my dad winking at me from across the table. “I didn’t go to college either,” dad would say with a shrug. “And we’re doing just fine, aren’t we?”

But he was gone now.

I turned away from the window, willing the thought away.

Babs sat beside Noah’s mother, her eyes closed, her hands clasped loosely in her lap. She looked tired, but more than that, she looked…lost, in a way I’d never seen her before. Even when she’d spoken about Morty’s death, back at the Chapel on the Rock, she had mostly just looked at peace.

Had Roger’s attack taken her back? To that moment she’d woken up beside her husband, expecting an ordinary morning, only to realize something was horribly wrong?

Tay had said this kind of thing happened more often than people would think. That some of the people on these tours weren’t up for it.

Maybe that was why the atmosphere in the bus felt so heavy now, so much bigger than just Roger. Because Babs had already lived this story. No doubt, several others on the bus had as well.

My parents had never taken “the trip of a lifetime.” Had that been what this was supposed to be for my mom?

Had she signed up for this trip because she wanted something more, something she’d never had the chance to share with Dad?