Chapter Fourteen
From: Miranda.Veronica@
Subject: Spanish for First Responders
Tonight’s class has NOT been canceled. I expect to see you all there. Estar listo para trabajar.
Mira
Mira taught the class the next evening seated in a chair at the front of the room, her arm in a sling. “Tonight, we’re going to take advantage of my recent experience and practice all the questions deputies, search and rescue, and paramedics might have needed to ask if I had spoken only Spanish.”
“You don’t think that’s too traumatic?” Deni asked.
“No,” Mira said. “I was pretty out of it at the time, so I think this will help. I’m counting on some of you who were there to remember what you asked.
We’ll skip the part where I’m lying on the ground, though.
” She held up a whiteboard marker. “I’ll need a volunteer to write down, in English, all the questions you come up with, then we’ll work on translating them into Spanish. ”
Bethany took the marker. “Dalton, why don’t you start?” Mira asked.
They covered search and rescue first, then she called on Aaron for the law enforcement perspective.
Hearing the questions about her attacker once more did not, as she had hoped, elicit any new information.
Earlier in the day, the sheriff had told her they had no new leads on the black-clad man.
He had managed to avoid being seen by any other hikers or passersby.
They finished up with questions for the paramedics about her injuries. She called on different students to try their hands at translation and Bethany recorded the correct results under each question. Then they practiced repeating the phrases until it was time for class to end.
“How are you doing?” Carter asked as he helped her pack her things to leave.
She wasn’t able to drive yet, so he had brought her to class and would take her home.
He had been a huge help, but things still felt tentative between them.
She sensed he was holding back, afraid to push her for too much.
She needed to find a way to let him know she wasn’t so fragile, despite the cast and stitches.
“I’m fine,” she said. Only a slight headache, but that was starting to fade. “Everyone else did all the work tonight.”
He picked up her book bag. “Are you ready?”
“I am.”
On the steps of the building he paused, shoulders tensed. He had never said so, but she knew he was looking for another dark figure who might emerge from the shadows to attack her. After a few seconds’ pause, he touched her uninjured arm. “I think it’s okay,” he said, and escorted her to his Jeep.
He went through the same routine at her apartment, looking carefully before they emerged from the vehicle and staying alert all the way to her door. Inside, he checked all the rooms and double-checked the locks. When he was done, he said, “You’re probably tired. I should go home.”
“Don’t leave yet.” She moved in closer, and slid one hand to the back of his neck. He took the cue and kissed her, very gently. “I won’t break,” she murmured, and pressed against him.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.
“You won’t.”
He kissed her again, like he meant it this time. The sensation buzzed through her. “That’s better than any painkiller,” she said when their lips parted.
“I can do better,” he said, and proved it by pulling her closer, grasping her waist with both hands, leaving no doubt of his arousal.
If only this cast wasn’t between them. She shifted, trying to make room for it. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m crushing you.”
“Come over here,” she said, and led him to the sofa. She pushed him down, then sat in his lap. “How’s this?” she asked.
He slid one hand beneath her shirt. “Nice,” he said, and kissed her again.
She began to undo the buttons of his shirt, running her fingers over the taut muscles of his abdomen. His breath caught and a thrill rippled through her. His eyes met hers and the heat of his gaze burned through her. This was what she wanted. What she needed.
She was working her way around to straddle him when the strains of banda trumpets sounded. She groaned and pressed her forehead to his. “Is that your phone?” he asked.
“I’ll ignore it.” She pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s my mom.”
“If she’s like mine, she’ll keep calling,” he said.
“You’re right.” She swiped up to accept the call and slid off his lap. “Hi, Mom.”
“I’m calling to see if you got the email I sent,” her mother said.
“I haven’t checked my email this afternoon,” she said.
“Well, you need to read it. I sent you a whole list of cute houses for sale here. And more information about the job at Our Lady of Sorrows.”
She was aware of Carter rebuttoning his shirt as her mother rattled on about the job and the houses. “Mom, I’m really happy here in Eagle Mountain,” she said. Other than a dangerous stalker, life here was almost perfect.
“You could be happy here. One day when you have a daughter of your own, you’ll understand how hard it is to lose her.”
“You haven’t lost me, Mom.”
“You will always be my baby, and I worry about you.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“I had a dream last night that you were hurt. I almost called you then.”
A shiver ran up her spine. “I’m fine,” she repeated.
“I just needed to make sure. Te amo, hija.”
“I love you, too, Mama.”
She ended the call. “You didn’t tell her about the attack,” Carter said.
“No. I didn’t want to frighten her.”
“Are you sure you’re okay here by yourself?”
Her mother wasn’t the only worrier. “I’m fine,” she said.
“I could stay here.”
She smiled. “If you did that, neither one of us would get any sleep.”
“True.” He bent to kiss her again, but pulled away quickly. “Call me if you need anything. Anytime.”
She nodded. “I will.”
She followed him to the door and locked it behind him, then sank onto the sofa once more, too weary to move. The attack had taken more out of her than she wanted to admit. She wouldn’t let Carter see that. Not because she didn’t trust him, but a woman was entitled to a little pride.
Thursday’s meeting at SAR headquarters began with an announcement.
“Joel Chessman let us know today that he’s restructuring his charitable giving and not to expect a check this year,” Carrie, who served as the group’s treasurer, said.
“That’s ten thousand dollars we were counting on for our budget. ”
“Whoa,” Caleb said. “Did he say why he’s leaving us out this year?”
“The letter says he wants to focus on helping different causes,” Carrie said.
“Who is Joel Chessman?” Carter asked.
“He owns a big consulting firm or something,” Tony said. “He’s given a big gift to us the last three years. That’s more than generous.”
“I’ll draft a nice thank-you letter and tell him to keep us in mind in the future,” Carrie said. “In the meantime, we need to come up with some ideas to fill the funding gap.”
“We could hold another dinner-dance,” Sheri said.
“The last one was a ton of work and only raised a few thousand,” Eldon said.
“Nothing we do is going to net ten thousand dollars at once,” Sheri said.
“We could look for more grants,” Deni said.
“That’s a good idea,” Carrie said. “But those can take months or years to come through. We got word today that the boiler in this building might not make it through the winter, so we need to set money aside for a replacement.”
“We’d like to put in an electric heat pump,” Tony said. “And we’ve talked about adding more solar panels.”
“All that is going to take more than T-shirt sales and raffles,” Danny said.
“I think we should talk to Mr. Chessman,” Carter said. “Impress on him how valuable his contribution is.”
“Are you volunteering to talk to him?” Sheri asked.
“That’s a good idea,” Ryan said before Carter could answer. “You seem to be good at persuading people.”
“I’m not going to impress a billionaire,” Carter said. “I’m still a rookie. I think a veteran should go.”
“I’m captain, so I guess I should go,” Danny said. “But Carter needs to go with me. He can do most of the talking.”
“I don’t think—” Carter began, but was drowned out by the voices of the other volunteers, in support of the plan.
“You might as well try it,” Ryan said. “He’s already decided not to donate. If you can’t change his mind, we’re no worse off. And you might succeed.”
Carter nodded. He wasn’t a climbing expert.
He didn’t have medical training. He wasn’t particularly strong or technically proficient or possessing any of the other skills that stood out to him as valuable to the organization.
But he could talk. “I’ll try,” he said. Sometimes his words made a difference. Maybe this would be one of those times.