Chapter 13
13
Hardy had a memory that he held close. It was strong and clear. Even after all this time, it still managed to pinch a bit.
The moment was when he was seven and just started riding the school bus. Though Bev usually rode too, a teacher had volunteered to tutor her before school on some advanced math, since she was so smart and far above the rest of the kids in her class.
On that day, the first time he rode the bus without his big sister looking out for him, he learned there were territories on it. Certain people had certain seats. They were claimed and he couldn’t change that.
And he knew that because he found out the hard way. He sat in the wrong seat, Darryl got in his face and screamed at him. Called him names. Threatened to hurt Bev.
And finally spit on him. It was wrong and humiliating. But even worse was the fact that no one did a thing.
Not even the bus driver.
After Hardy stood up, grabbed his backpack, and hurried to his designated new spot, he spent the rest of the bus ride trying not to cry.
He’d also done some thinking and decided to make some changes in his life. First, there was no way he was going to go through the indignity of being bullied and humiliated in front of people again.
When the bus driver stopped at school and everyone got up, he felt frozen in his spot. What he really wanted was to sit on that seat and have the bus driver take him back home. Facing his mother’s confusion was better than walking into school and living in fear of who he might run into in the halls.
“Kid, you need to get up,” the driver called out.
He shuffled his books again.
“Hey. Hardy, right?”
He looked up and then up some more. There was Edward. He was a sixth grader who lived in his apartment building. He was tough and huge. No one messed with him.
“You hear me?”
Finally meeting Edward’s eye, he nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then come on. You’ve got to get up and out.”
He had no choice. He stood up. Tried not to shake as he felt the full weight of Edward’s stare. To his surprise, Edward stayed by his side as they walked off the bus and down the walkway into the school.
As they walked, Edward talked. “Here’s the thing with guys like Darryl, Hardy. They’re always going to be around. You’re gonna have to deal with them on the bus and in the street and when you’re a whole lot older too. That’s because they ain’t got nothing else, right?” When Hardy had nodded, Edward continued. “You’re going to do something better though. I know it.”
“How come you know?”
“I just do.”
“I don’t want him spitting on me again.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s not going to do a thing to you ever again. I’ll take care of it. And then, one day real soon, you’ll take care of it too.” He bent down slightly to look Hardy in the eye. “You hear me?”
“Yeah.”
He slapped him on the shoulder. “Good.”
When Hardy had gotten his first look at Stephanie in the bus station, he’d been reminded of that moment. She’d been alone and scared and hurt. Just like he had been. She needed a protector.
Now, as he waited for her to get done changing, Hardy allowed himself to accept the fact that he wanted to be her protector for a good long while.
Since it was taking her a minute, Hardy went into the kitchen and put away the items he’d brought in. When he spied the box of crackers Crenshaw had brought earlier, he gritted his teeth. The only reason Crenshaw still had a job on Russell Ranch was because he called Hardy up and shared what he’d done.
The man made no excuses and apologized for his mistake. And then he waited for Hardy to do what was necessary.
There wasn’t anything to do, however. Stephanie didn’t seem to be worse for wear. In addition, the flub had given Crenshaw the opportunity to speak with her. Though the man always looked as if he was two steps away from a prison break, he now was completely loyal to the girl.
That was a good thing.
“Here I am,” she said, bringing his attention back to the present.
There she was. Dressed in her jeans and now a white T-shirt. He couldn’t deny that she looked sweet. He also happened to notice that she looked a little flushed. Was she feverish? Man, he hoped not. The last thing he wanted was to leave the ranch with her for medical help.
He waggled his fingers. “Come here, Steph.”
When she stopped in front of him under the bright florescent kitchen light, he brushed his hand across her forehead.
“What are you doing? It’s my upper arm that’s hurt.”
“I know. I was checking to see if you had a fever.”
“I don’t. I’m not sick, Hardy.”
There was something about the way she said his name, husky, slightly lilted, that threaded an awareness through him. He liked it. It triggered another round of protectiveness inside of him. And, yes, awareness of her. She was a pretty woman, and she was beginning to occupy most of his thoughts.
Including imagining them in a different situation. One in which she wasn’t scared half out of her mind and he wasn’t armed in case he had to hurt someone in order to protect her. A situation where they were standing close together, but she wasn’t looking at him through a lens of fear and worry.
In his imagination, the look lodged firmly in her blue eyes was awareness. Of him as a man. Her man.
If she was looking at him that way, well, then it would only be the natural thing to pull her into his arms, pressed close. Close enough for her lips to open in a gasp.
Giving him the opportunity to lean down and finally taste those lips ...
Which he really shouldn’t ever do.
Grimacing, Hardy told himself to lock down that fantasy. It was not only never going to happen, it was just plain wrong.
She was frightened. Innocent. She was Amish.
He hadn’t been frightened nor innocent since he was seven years old.
Nothing that just passed through his mind was good. It shouldn’t have happened, and he needed to make sure he wouldn’t think such things again.
He needed to be better.
“Let’s go to the bathroom so I can take a look at that arm.”
“It doesn’t hurt all that bad.” As if the thought of being next to him in such a tight space worried her, she frowned. “I can deal with it myself.”
“I doubt it. I’ve got a pretty good feeling that what’s under that bandage is going to need to be cleaned. I don’t want to do it here in the kitchen.”
“Fine.” She turned and went back down the short hall.
He stayed on her heels. When he had her by the sink, he reached for her sleeve but realized he wasn’t going to be able to clean the wound well.
If she was a soldier in his unit, he would tell her what the problem was, and the woman would likely just pull the garment off. It wouldn’t be a big deal. Half the women had gone running in sports bras anyway. Of course, all he would care about was if the woman’s arm was healthy enough to aim a gun.
This? Well, this was a different story.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I ... well, I was just wondering how I was going to be able to clean your wound properly. The sleeves are kind of long. Do you have anything with a short sleeve?”
“It’s still pretty cool. I think it’s just sweatshirts and long sleeves. I can go check ...”
Realizing that he had a black undershirt on, the kind his mother used to call a wife beater, he pulled off his shirt and then the wife beater too.
She gasped. “Hardy, what are you doing?”
“Giving you something to wear.” He handed her his undershirt. “Here. It’s gonna be big, but it should keep you covered enough.”
“Nee. I’m not going to wear your shirt.”
He noticed she was staring at his bare chest like it was as ugly as his face.
Realizing that he had a number of scars on it too, he pulled his long-sleeved tee back on. “Sorry about that. Now, change, and I’ll be right back.”
She was holding his shirt to her chest but looked frozen stiff. “Hardy, I don’t think—”
“I know this is awkward and uncomfortable but it’s the best we can do right now. I don’t have any other articles of clothing to give you, and the only other idea I’ve got is for you to wrap a towel around yourself.” Seeing her horrified look, he nodded. “I didn’t think that would fly either.”
He was tempted to touch her. Just a pat. A reassuring stroke of her arm. Anything to soothe her. But he figured there was a pretty good chance that his effort at comfort would backfire on them too. Instead, he settled for using his words. He lowered his voice. “Listen, Stephanie. I know this is yet another hard thing you’re being asked to do in a slew of hard and difficult things. But I’m all we’ve got right now. There ain’t another female nearby. All I want to do is help you, right?”
“I ... I mean, yes. Or ... right.”
Relieved, he nodded. “Good. Now let’s get this taken care of. The sheriff’s going to be here shortly. Don’t faint on me now.”
“I am not going to faint.”
Stephanie not only looked affronted, but her protest had lit a fire in her eyes, giving Hardy a hint of the girl she was when no one was looking.
He couldn’t help but stare, wondering if that was who she’d been when she was a little girl.
When their eyes met again, she inhaled. And then she closed the door in his face.
It was no less than he deserved. But boy, did it almost make him grin.