Cheryl Wolverton - Among The Tulips

She was terrified and alone. She was exhausted after the long trip and all she had been thinking about was getting to the hotel to rest.

She had no idea what had happened. She had been driving and now she was being loaded onto a gurney. How had the wreck occurred? A big blank was there where information should be. And where was the man she’d hit?

As the two men lifted her, she couldn’t help a surge of panic. “Don’t leave me,” she called and realized the man who had been at her side was once again talking to the police. He immediately turned and stepped over to her. Wrapping both of his hands around hers in an intimate act of great comfort, he focused his complete attention on her, his eyes connecting and holding hers in a steadying gaze. “I’m right here.”

She bit her lip, embarrassed, but unwilling to let go. “Thank you.”

Some trip this was turning out to be. Yet, holding on to this man calmed her somewhat. A needle pricked her arm as the paramedics started on IV and then injected a clear fluid into the IV line. “What are they giving me?”

Her rescuer turned and rattled off a question in that language they spoke.

The one attendant answered.

Tall dark and handsome turned back to her. “Something to help calm you.”

Oh heavens…she could already feel it taking affect. “You look funny,” she said, but it didn’t sound right. The words had come out mixed up.

The man smiled, two dimples appearing in his slightly bearded cheeks. “I have a funny look?”

“No. You…your face…it’s…turning…” She lifted one hand to show him how he seemed suddenly tilted, but found the effort too much and dropped her hand back to her side. “I’m not making sense.”

The attendants lifted the gurney. It felt very odd—as if she were suddenly floating up into the air. Victor was still next to her, however.

“You have a dimple in your chin,” she said, staring at him.

He gave her a half grin as he turned to say something to someone near them.

“I would have seen it better if you had shaved. You have stubble all over your face.”

He glanced back, his eyes widening in surprise.

She felt the silliest urge to giggle—which she did. And then she closed her eyes.

Until she was jarred.

“Wait a minute. We’re moving.” She glanced around and noted they were in the back of a vehicle and it was speeding down the street.

Victor was still there, sitting right next to her, along with a stranger who was talking on a radio. Victor held her hand with both of his. He must have sensed her confusion, however, because he released her hand with his right hand and cupped her cheek. “The medicine is affecting you. We’re on the way to the hospital. Obviously time isn’t the same for you. We’ve already been in here several minutes. They must have given you something pretty strong.”

Annie felt disconnected, though his hand felt great. With a sigh she rubbed her cheek against his hand. “You feel so good,” she murmured sleepily. “I had no idea how much I missed a gentle touch.” She hadn’t said that out loud—had she? Ah well, what did it matter? He was here now, with her. Her eyelids felt heavy. “My protector.”

She didn’t want to let her eyes close though and forced them open. The gorgeous guy in front of her was her only lifeline to this world she was in. She didn’t want to lose him.

He had an odd look on his face.

She studied him, wondering just who this man was, this gentle soul who had been willing to help her.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Please don’t leave me alone.” That sounded so wimpish and frightened. She wasn’t wimpish and easily frightened. At least, she didn’t think so. “Yes, I am. Very wimpish.”

The man laughed.

She felt his hand against her cheek again and smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered. Turning her cheek into his hand she snuggled down into it, thinking it felt so much like her mom’s hand had so many years ago—soft, gentle and caring. She closed her eyes.

“Thank you again? For what?” Victor asked. When she didn’t answer, he realized Annie was asleep. Turning to the attendant he spoke in Dutch, “I want to make sure we get her into a room immediately.”

The young tech nodded, a bit starry-eyed. “Of course, Mr. Rivers. Whatever you want.”

Victor simply nodded. He was used to the deference he received, though it did get old. In this case, however, it would be beneficial; it would ensure that ‘Annie’ got good medical care.

What was he going to do with the woman?

A stranger in a strange land and she didn’t speak the language.

He would love to have a talk with her friends. Didn’t people realize just how dangerous it was to be in a foreign country where she couldn’t speak the language? If she’d been in one of the bigger cities, she wouldn’t have had a problem, but in the tiny city of Haut, with a population of only ten thousand, located out in the middle of nowhere—very few spoke English.

Wearily, he shook his head. He couldn’t help but worry about Annie Hooper.

And things did happen to innocent people—look at her and the wreck.

Victor always tried to be prepared and ready for whatever might come. It was a good thing in his life—to make sure he was prepared. Not being prepared could lead to national embarrassments.

He hadn’t been prepared for Annie, however.

He was surprised that she didn’t speak a single word of Dutch or German.

She had rattled him, that was for sure. He’d actually been surprised by her sweet innocent smile. He’d smiled when she’d rubbed up against his hand. Her skin was soft and smooth and smelled of something sweet. He’d never smelled that scent before but it drifted up from her as she’d moved her head. Perhaps a shampoo or perfume. And then she’d commented on his chin. Some women were put off by the dimple, but she seemed to like it, though he wasn’t sure about her feelings regarding the light bit of beard he’d worn for his last movie. His long hair and beard were leftovers, and he hadn’t cut them yet.

Of course, the drugs were affecting Annie. She’d been slurring every word she spoke.

If he had his way, he would prefer her to be in a different hospital. But since he was there, he would make sure she was treated right.

He frowned. “She is going to be okay?” he asked the attendant.

The attendant shrugged. “She probably has a fractured tibia or fibula and possibly a concussion. Normally we wouldn’t give meds so strong, but she’s a tourist and pretty unsettled. Americans,” the technician said disrespectfully and then winced. “Except for you, Mr. Rivers. Your mother was from Holland so you’re not really American, exactly.”

Victor thought that attitude was typical and sighed. “It’s not important.”

As if to make up for his lapse, the attendant sat up straighter and examined the patient more closely. “She could have internal injuries. The doctor will let you know.”

They pulled into the entrance to the hospital.

The technician leaned forward and wiped away the blood that was running along Annie’s hairline.

Victor didn’t care too much for real blood.

Then he realized his own hands had her blood on them, in quite another sense.

He hoped she wasn’t seriously injured.

She was actually very pretty in a simple sort of way—innocent, perhaps. She didn’t have that world-weary look that so many of his friends did.

In the circles he traveled, it was rare to see someone that looked so fresh at…forty, she’d said?

Forty.

He would have guessed her much younger.

She was only two years younger than he. He had turned forty-two two months ago.

Annie shifted her head. Victor blanched.