Cheryl Wolverton - Among The Tulips

A cross.

She wore a tiny cross around her neck.

All good feelings toward this woman were shoved aside as memories of his parents flooded his mind.

She was a Christian—like them.

How could she be? he wondered. But then she hadn’t been herself either.

The bitterness and anger—hidden but always near to his heart—threatened to surface. It would have too if he’d had more time to dwell on it, but just then, the ambulance pulled to a stop at the emergency room entrance. Victor realized he still held Annie’s hand.

Releasing it, he stepped back and allowed the technicians to do their job.

He followed the stretcher into the hospital and into the ward. Maybe she just wore the necklace because she liked the look. Besides, not all people who wore crosses were like his parents. His parents hadn’t believed in wearing any jewelry, so maybe she wasn’t like them at all. Anyway, it didn’t matter. She was here alone and needed help. And he would help this woman, regardless of her religious beliefs. He forced those bitter memories away by becoming the persona he had created so many years ago through so many parts.

When the nurse came in, he gave all of the information he could and then stepped away to make a call to his home. He needed some fresh clothes. He also needed to talk to this woman when she woke up.

Of course once she was in her right mind and had calmed down, she would recognize him and that might pose a problem. But then, he was used to that.

He would simply be prepared for whatever her reaction would be.

He supposed that the sweet innocence he’d perceived would disappear and he would find out just what type of person Annie really was. Money had that effect on people—money and fame. And he had both. Wearily he sighed and accepted that that was how it would be.

Thinking about that, he decided it might not hurt to put in a call to his lawyer as well.

It was going to be a long day.

Annie groaned.

She heard someone speaking to her, though she couldn’t understand him, and then she felt herself being prodded to sit up.

Painfully she opened one eye. And immediately realized she had been unconscious—again.

“A cast?” She looked down at her right leg in dismay. “I’m in a cast.”

“You’re awake.”

Her gaze went past the other beds in the room she was in, and, to her relief, she saw her rescuer coming down the main aisle, the very man who had just spoken. Wow. She hadn’t imagined it. He was hot.

His footsteps echoed on the tiled floor. She could hear other noises from other beds around her, though the curtains blocked her view of the people in the cubicles. Light shone through the windows near where Victor had entered, and she was relieved to realize that not much time must have passed if it was still light out.

“What happened?”

The man who had been prodding her to sit up now pointed at a wheelchair before pointing at the bed.

She didn’t understand him.

Victor said something to him, and the man replied. Victor commented again in a sharper tone and the man strode off, not looking back.

“I’m sorry he woke you. I stepped out to freshen up. I thought you’d be okay for a few minutes. I guess I was wrong.”

She pointed at the obvious. “I have a broken leg.”

Victor nodded. He stopped next to her bed and lifted his hand to touch her just above her eye. “How do you feel?”

She winced in pain, yet at the same time felt her heart flutter at how close this man was. He was really good-looking and somehow, strangely familiar. His magnetism was unbelievable as well. She really liked the change he’d made while she was unconscious. Instead of the paint-spattered shirt and jeans, he wore a casual pair of dress slacks and a tucked-in polo shirt along with a light tan leather jacket.

She forced a breath in and then said, “I really can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

He shook his head. “We need to talk.”

He waited and stared at her.

She wasn’t sure what he wanted.

Disconcerted, he tilted his head. “Do you have any questions for me?” he finally asked as if he knew something she didn’t.

She thought a moment and then slowly nodded. Dropping her eyes, she asked, “Do they arrest foreigners for what happened today? I mean I hit some man with my car—where is he, by the way?”

“That’s your question?” He sounded surprised.

She lifted her gaze to meet his and found something akin to amazement, or maybe it was perturbed shock, on his face. “I want to go home,” she added, thinking perhaps that was what he was wanting to hear.

He let out a breath and simply glanced past her for a moment as if centering his thoughts.

“You’re too banged up to travel. The doctor is willing to release you only if someone watches you for the next forty-eight hours.”

“But I didn’t come here with anyone.”

“I know that. I’ve been on the phone making arrangements. I have a large house. You can stay with me—”

“I don’t even know you.” Annie leaned back, slightly stunned that he would suggest such a thing.

Okay, now why had that shocked him so much? His mouth fell open. He started to say something and then paused, getting that same strange look on his face that he had had a few minutes ago. Finally he gazed back at her. “I’m the one you were in the wreck with.”

“But the man—the one who was yelling? You’re the one who helped me.”

Confused, she shook her head. Something wasn’t adding up.

“He was angry that a tourist was blocking his business. He was easily paid off with a large order for meat.” Victor grinned slightly before the serious look returned. “No, Annie. I was coming into town to buy some paints, and a dog ran out in front of me. I cut right in front of you and caused the head-on.”

She gaped as her mind tried to process what had really happened. She still couldn’t remember a thing other than driving down the street and then opening her eyes and finding herself injured. “Are you okay?” she asked weakly. She had leaned so heavily on this gentleman throughout her ordeal that she hadn’t even noticed whether he’d been hurt.

“I have a much better car than yours. My air bag deployed. I’m a little stiff. But to answer your question, I’m fine. It’s you who was injured.”

“I am so sorry,” Annie said, horrified. “You’ve been so nice. I’ve relied on you and now—”

“Now I’m inviting you to my house,” he said, interrupting her. “Since it was my fault, not yours, there’s no reason to keep apologizing and every reason for me to make it up to you by giving you a place to stay while you’re here recovering.”

He reached out and took her hand, lifting it and wrapping both of his hands around it again. Then he allowed his eyes to drift upward, over the planes of her face until they finally locked with her own brown eyes, and he said simply, “You’ll need someone who can interpret for you over the next few days while we get all of this sorted out.”

Annie nodded. “But I don’t know you.”

He shook his head slightly, started to say something and then let it go.

“The doctor does. Everyone in this small town does,” he said. “If you need references, ask the doctor if I’m safe.”

At that moment an older man came walking up with a chart in his hands.

Victor dropped Annie’s hand and turned toward the doctor. They proceeded to have a rapid-fire conversation in Dutch.

“Like the doctor would understand me if I asked him,” Annie muttered.

Evidently she’d muttered it too loudly because both men turned toward her. “Ask me what?” the older man said in heavily accented English.