Kayla’s surprise had to
wait.
The filming on Set Two
went so well, Paul and Jerry decided to tape another scene that hadn’t
been scheduled for two more weeks. That put them ahead, in the
grand scheme, but delayed dinner by three hours. And word had
spread, so everyone wanted to be present when Jimbo presented Kayla with
the crutches.
Then the set crew devised
some ingenious modifications that--they hoped--would allow her to
navigate the long golden-white beach. So several more days passed
before they were finally satisfied.
Breakfast was always a
noisy affair, complete with raucous shouted orders over the general
hubbub of clinking plates and sizzling frying pans. Jerry believed
in fueling his teams with a hearty meal before dawn, to keep them
energized all morning. It was also an ideal time to review any
last-minute changes to the day’s schedule. Quite often all three
filming locations were bustling concurrently, and timing was critical.
He and Paul had been
forewarned of the unusual addition to their morning routine. But
it still came as a surprise when Jimbo started clanging his fork against
a tin mug, and the entire camp fell expectantly silent.
"I ain’t one for fancy
words and speeches," he began, rising to his full imposing height.
"Gonna leave that to the pros." And he cast a teasing smirk in
Alex’s direction, because ‘Mac’ was famous for his long, compelling
discourses on every imaginable subject.
Alex answered the
taunting challenge with a good-natured obscene gesture. Jeering
laughs and catcalls rebounded across the clearing as Jimbo ignored the
anatomically impossible suggestion. "Now children," he chided,
shaking his head in mock reproof. "Y’all know better than talkin’
that way around such fine ladies!"
The ladies promptly added
their own laughing, improbable suggestions to the furor. Jimbo
rolled his dark eyes, and chuckled at their creativity.
"All right, that’s
enough," he finally boomed. "We ain’t got all day, and there’s
somethin’ I wanta say."
"Say it, then!" Willy
ordered, slamming his coffee mug on the long wooden table. "Sun’s
comin’ over the mountain, and it’s gonna be blazin’ hot in a few
minutes!"
"All right, then."
Jimbo’s expressive face suddenly became serious. "They say that
folk on a movie set are real superstitious, and I reckon that’s true
enough. We all fret about bad luck every time things don’t go just
right. And we prob’ly all got some kinda good luck charm with us."
Reflexively he touched the worn silver amulet dangling beneath his bull
neck.
"Get to the point, Jim!"
Paul yelled across the clearing.
The big man jammed both
fists on his hips. "What you think I’m tryin’ to do?
Tapdance naked for charity?"
Then he sobered again.
"I say we’ve all been extra lucky since we’ve come here. Weather’s
mostly holding, no one’s been hurt, equipment’s running fine, filming’s
going even better than we’d dared hope. I know it ain’t one
person’s doing, but I’m awful glad that one person’s here with us.
And I hope she’ll stay with us, all the way to the end!"
Kayla blushed crimson as
the entire crew surged to their feet and began cheering. Never in
her life had she experienced such complete acceptance! Hot tears
burned in her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away.
"I ain’t done!"
Jimbo thudded his fist against the long table to regain their attention.
"Listen up now, I ain’t done!"
When silence fell this
time, the hush was tense with growing excitement.
"You done had a lot of bad
luck in your life," he continued, turning to face Kayla directly.
"Maybe that’s why you’re such good luck for us. But it ain’t fair
that you’re stuck in one place, when there’s so much you wanta see.
So me and the boys, we decided to give part of that good luck back to
you. And we made you a little somethin’ that just might help."
Charlie pulled a long
wrapped bundle from under his bench, and carried it over to Kayla’s
table. "C’mon, open it!" he urged, when she hesitated and glanced
at Brigit for moral support.
Slowly she reached for
the leather thongs holding the package closed, and tugged on them.
Sun-bleached fabric fell away to reveal two long pieces of hand-carved
white wood, and a matching pair of oval wooden bases.
"Crutches," she
whispered, her voice husky with emotion. "You made crutches for
me!"
Brigit had known about
their surprise for days, but the wooden bases were an innovation.
"What are these for?" she asked, touching one with a curious finger.
Jimbo’s proud smile
outshone the rising sun. "Guess you could call ’em sand-shoes," he
explained. "Hook ’em to the crutches, an’ you can stand on ’em.
They’ll keep you from sinkin’ into the sand. I figure with a
little practice, you’ll be scootin’ all over the island in no time!"
This time Kayla couldn’t
hold back the tears. But she didn’t care. These brash, bawdy
men had given her a gift more precious than gold. The double bars
were strengthening her arms, her legs, her back. Now she could
take the next vital step forward, in every sense of the word, and
walk again!
"You already knew, didn’t
you?" she hiccupped through her tears, as Brigit and Allie leaned close
to hug her. "Oh, Jimbo, they’re the most beautiful things I’ve
ever seen!"
The big man blushed with
pleasure. "Renee wanted to paint ’em for you, but we figured you
should try ’em out first, make sure they fit an’ all."
She felt powerful, full
of surging excitement. "I want to try them now. Brigit, help
me up!"
Her table was at the
upper edge of the beach, where sand blended with hard-packed dirt, and
became solid. It would be the perfect surface to test her slowly
returning balance.
To her surprise, Alex’s
big hand came into view, and he helped Brigit pull her upright. It
was the first time he’d voluntarily touched her, and she felt wild heat
sweep through her entire body.
The crutches fit as if
they’d been custom-matched to her slender body. And the shoulder
pads were surprisingly soft and comfortable against her ribs. She
opted, this first time, to leave the sand-shoes off, and let her feet
rest on the dusty ground. There would be time, later, to
experiment with them along the sloping beach.
Her balance had improved
dramatically after three weeks of struggling between the sturdy double
bars. Gradually she relaxed her arms and shoulders, letting more
weight rest on her splayed feet. She could stand for nearly five
minutes now without falling.
But they weren’t waiting
to see her just stand. They were waiting to see her walk!
Taking a deep breath, she
shifted her weight to the left, and carefully lifted her right foot.
The sudden silence was deafening. She knew that Alex and Brigit
were hovering on either side of her, ready to catch and support her.
She ignored them.
The dirt felt cool
beneath her sandaled foot. Cautiously she eased the right crutch
forward, then concentrated on moving her left foot. For one
precarious moment she felt off-balance, and half-sensed Alex grabbing
for her arm. Brigit waved him back as she righted herself, and
slid the left crutch into place.
"Again." She was
barely aware that she’d spoken aloud. Her total focus was centered
on forcing her leaden feet to move forward, a few inches at a time.
Four steps. Five!
Six!
Panting, she sagged back,
and let the luxurious padding cushion her weight. By God, she
was going to do it! No matter what it took, she was
going to walk again!
Sweat was dripping into
her eyes. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered but success as
she made her slow, unsteady way across the clearing toward Jimbo.
Patrick, I’m
doing it! Look at me, I’m going to walk again! And someday,
I’ll be able to run just like we used to do, back when we first met!
It didn’t take any great
genius to see that pride was pushing her past exhaustion and common
sense. But Jimbo resisted the impulse to meet her halfway.
There’d be a price to pay for overextending herself, and he knew she’d
pay it without protest. Right now, proving herself was far more
important.
Something unfamiliar
clenched in Alex’s chest as he watched her slowly hobble past the
smoking grill. All his life, he’d taken walking for granted.
And why not, when he’d been so blessed with a healthy, active body?
But never again. Never again!
Valuable time was
slipping by. But Jerry realized that he didn’t care. Every
now and again, some things were more important than budgets and
schedules. So he held his silence as the sun’s first rays inched
over the mountaintop, throwing vivid light into Kayla’s shoulder-length
auburn hair. Nothing on the morning’s docket could possibly be
more crucial than this magical moment.
Every muscle in Kayla’s
body was screaming for relief. Panting, she forced her protesting
legs to take one more agonizing step. Just one more, and she’d be
there!
Rousing cheers filled the
early morning air as she staggered to a stop directly in front of Jimbo,
and stood there weaving with exhaustion. She’d done it!
She’d walked on her own two legs all the way across the clearing!
"I did it!" Her low
voice was shaky as she turned to grin triumphantly at Brigit. But
it was Alex’s wondering face that drew her full attention. "I
am going to walk down that beach! I am going to do it!"
He believed her.
Nothing seemed impossible at that golden instant, with the rising sun
shining in her luminous sapphire eyes.
Brigit and Jimbo both
jumped forward as she wobbled. Alex got there first, and swept her
into his arms without a second thought. "Not today, sweetheart,"
he gently chided, as her new crutches clattered to the ground.
"There’ll be plenty of time later for running marathons. Right
now, you need rest. You’ve earned it!"
It seemed like a misty
dream, as he carried her back across the clearing and up the ramp that
led to her small hut. Was it only imagination that made her head
seem to fit so perfectly against the curve of his neck? Surely he
couldn’t really be touching her, holding her, when he found her so
repulsive!
"Mac?" Weariness
was taking its toll, making her light-headed with reaction. Chills
swept down the length of her aching body as sweat began to cool on her
flushed skin. "Why do you hate me so much?"
She thought that he
looked down at her strangely. Then the darkened hut was safe,
secure around her, tugging her down into painless oblivion. Never
before had she been so bone-tired, so grateful for the thin mattress
beneath her lifeless body.
"I could never hate you,
Kayla," she thought she heard him murmur, an instant before he bent to
lightly kiss her forehead.
She must be
dreaming now, and oh, what a sweet dream it was!
A whimsical smile curved
her lips as he spread a sheet over her, and brushed the tousled hair
from her eyes. "Isn’t he something, Patrick?" she murmured,
sighing with pleasure. "Who’d have guessed he could be so nice..."
• • • • • •
"Who in the hell is Patrick?"
It wasn’t like Alex cared
enough to be threatened by another man in Kayla’s life. He had no
claim on her, or any desire to start what could only be a casual fling.
There was no reason at all why hearing another man’s name, as she’d
drifted off to sleep, should fill him with such nameless dread.
He’d told himself that
all day. Yet her soft, dreamy voice had haunted him continually.
So when they finished filming on Set Three, he hurried back to camp in
search of Brigit, and some answers.
This time, at least, he
managed to dredge up enough courtesy to ask her, instead of
forcibly dragging her into the bushes. But Brigit had spent a
long, tiring day herself, and her volatile temper was on a short fuse.
"How do you know about
Patrick?" she demanded, jamming both fists on her slim hips and scowling
up at him.
Uh oh, mother bear
defending her cub, he realized with a sudden warning jolt. It
would have been amusing, if he hadn’t felt so damned unnerved.
"She was talking to him, or at him maybe, when I laid her down to
rest this morning," he muttered, rubbing damp palms on his dirty ripped
jeans. "I thought she was delirious or something."
Brigit relaxed, and the
brimming fury faded from her eyes. "Aye," she sighed. "She
does that sometimes. Never when she thinks anyone can hear her.
It’s a lot of trust she’s placed in you, Mac."
Suddenly he knew,
and wished he hadn’t asked. "Patrick was her husband."
The weary nurse released
a deep sigh. "Aye, the light an’ love of her life. But I’ll
not be tellin’ you any more about him," she warned, slanting another
fierce look up at him. "If you’ve that strong a need to know,
you’ll have to ask her yourself."
Alex felt his guts
clench. Asking meant forcing her to relive that devastating
accident. Even to satisfy his own churning curiosity, that was
something he could never do. "Is she feeling better now?" he
ventured instead.
Should she tell him about
the torturous muscle spasms, the stress-induced fever, the hot and cold
packs she’d applied to Kayla’s traumatized muscles all day? The
girl had paid dearly for her moment of triumph that morning.
But oh, how proud she’d
been of her victory!
"She pushed herself too
hard." That much Brigit could admit without compromising Kayla’s
pride. "She’s been workin’ so hard to get back into shape, but she
wasn’t ready for that."
Wondering pride filled
her musical voice as she shook her head in disbelief. "Eighteen
steps, when the most she’s ever managed before now was five!"
"And she was only using
the crutches for balance." Until that moment, he hadn’t realized
just what an incredible feat he’d witnessed. "My God, no wonder
she was so exhausted!"
"Aye." Now Brigit’s
freckled face was grim with resolve. "And I aim to see it won’t
happen again, not like that. Slow an’ steady from here on out, or
I’ll take the crutches away from her myself. She’ll do herself no
good by pushin’ too hard."
"What can I do to help?"
His impulsive question
startled Brigit. She had no doubt that a fling with Alex Matthews
would be wild and passionate. But Kayla would open her heart
without reservations. And the inevitable heartbreak when he moved
on to greener pastures would be devastating.
She’d taken a mental vow
not to interfere--but she didn’t want to see her best friend hurt by
someone who seemed so incapable of genuine emotion.
This was a side of him,
though, that she’d never seen before.
Her old Gran had believed
implicitly in her ‘healing touch,’ the way she could reach into people
and see what really hurt. Impulsively she lifted a hand, and
touched Alex’s roughened cheek with cautious fingers. Yes, there
was pain lurking inside this man, of a type she’d never expected.
For an instant she was
tempted to soothe...
No. This
wasn’t a cut or scrape that she could heal with ointment and a simple
band-aid. He needed to find his own answers, chart his own path
through the minefields scattered across his troubled psyche.
"She needs a friend,
someone she can trust an’ confide in," she murmured, stepping back
again. "Be her friend, Mac. An’ don’t you dare hurt her."
