Crashing Into Tess (The McGreers) Read online

  Crashing Into Tess

  Other Works by Lilly Christine Coming Soon

  “The Right Kinda Bull” Eva Smashing & Dashing

  Works by Christine Griffin Aria of Sylvania

  C r a s h i n g I n t o

  TESS

  LILLY CHRISTINE

  Cover Art by Libra Press Graphics LIBRA PRESS An Imprint of CreatesSpace

  ISBN-13: 978-1492704447 ISBN-10: 149270444X Libra Press is a division of Equilibria, LLC Crashing Into Tess

  copyright @ 2013 by Lilly Christine

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations imbedded in critical articles and reviews.

  For publisher information, contact equilibria.llc (at) gmail.com. Contact the author at LillyChristine13 (at) gmail.com

  Endless Thanks

  to Noor and Flor, for agreeing that I could do it, Patty Jo, for all those encouraging Thai dinners, Robin and Lani at StoryWonk, for diligent care and feedback

  AND

  Marty, for unending support.

  Thanks for dragging me kicking and screaming to my “happy place”, Marty-Mar! This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  I wrote this book for anyone searching “Wide Open Spaces” for the “one”. ~ May your find your hearts desire.

  1

  Wide Open Spaces Balancing an acrid cup of cheap motel coffee and an overnight bag, Tess Bamberger tugged the leash clipped to Rhiannon’s collar, frowning at the cold drizzle falling from a bleak, predawn sky. “C’mon girl, I’m getting wet!”

  Unlocking her rental car, she tossed her bag in amongst duffels, books and computer equipment, almost blocking the car’s rear window. Her retriever-collie mix hopped across the driver’s seat and curled on the passenger’s seat. “Good girl, Rhiannon. Just one more day.”

  Ignoring muddy paw prints, Tess climbed in after her. She’d driven endless miles of straight-grey ribboned highway since she’d left her parent’s gracious Tudor-style Villanova home two days earlier.

  G olden-tasseled cornfields of Ohio and Indiana had turned to wheat and soy across long, lonely stretches of Illinois. The sketchy radio reception had been unbearable; angry talk show hosts alternating with terrible church music. Then she’d found Rhiannon, alone and hungry, wandering a Missouri interstate.

  The matted, three-quarter grown pup had gulped the remainder of Tess’s turkey sandwich after lunging into her car, and the radio switched from static-y fifties oldies to her sister’s favorite Stevie Nicks song. “It was fate, wasn’t it, Rhiannon?”

  Thumping her tail, Rhiannon nosed Tess’s elbow, tucking her chin on her denim clad thigh, gazing up with adoring chocolate brown eyes. They passed through Kansas City at mid-morning, and steady drizzle turned to torrential downpour. Spray from passing eighteen-wheelers thumped against the windshield, obliterating the road ahead.Tess jumped with nerves each time, clenching her teeth, continuing on. I’m driving to a job that pays less than half what I would have made in Montgomery County, and I didn’t even consider Dad’s offer to buy into that Main Line emergency clinic. Was I just being bullheaded, to prove that I could do this? Am I trying to prove it to my parents, or myself?

  As the sky darkened, Tess’s sense of unease increased. Her headlights were barely visible through a bleary windshield.

  Just after ten o’clock, garish lights of chain motels around Colorado Springs beckoned. Feeling numb and anxious, Tess reached down to the hip pocket of her worn Levi’s, touching the outline of the apartment key Doc Harnes’ wife Bea had sent. “No sense stopping for another cheap motel room, Rhiannon. Green Junction can’t be too much further, now.”

  ***** Jake McGreer nursed a ginger ale at the bar at Green Forks Tavern. From the jukebox, Kenny Loggins complained about the fine timing of Lucille’s departure. Thursday nights, the pool tournament was the only action in town. It was late, he realized; the last pair was setting up to break.

  “What happened over there with your cue stick tonight, Jake?” Alice teased from behind the bar. “Losing your edge?”

  “Maybe I am. Wanna go out after work, help me get it back?” “Oh, yeah, that would go over big with Lotts.” Rolling her eyes, she wiped down the bar. “C’mon, a smart guy like you, with two big ranches and a million head of cattle, the ladies must be lining up for dates.”

  Jake glanced over his shoulder to the almost empty room. “Sure, they’re takin’ numbers.”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t had offers,” she posed, arms crossed, green eyes curious. She leaned her curves against the bar.

  Count on Alice to dig into this stuff. “Well, there are always offers. Mostly girls from high school, divorced like me. It’s awkward. You can’t just date in Green Junction, without raising expectations.”

  “You ought to be with someone, Jake, mend that broken heart.”

  Scowling into his empty glass, he wished he’d changed the subject sooner. “Not with my luck. I need another round of alimony payments like a hole in the head. How about a shot?”

  Alice took bottles down from the shelf, swiping the amber whiskeys, clear vodkas, rums and gins with a damp cloth. ““You know you don’t drink, knucklehead. You’re a great guy, and a real catch. There’s somebody perfect for you out there. You’ll bump into her when the time is right.”

  Jake shook his head. “That’s probably the last thing I need.” Alice eyed him sympathetically. He ran a hand through his thick dark curls, ready to talk. “I fetched Cassie from school today, took her out to the ranch. We saddled up for a trail ride, then I helped with her homework. After dinner, we went back to Vicki’s place.” He swallowed. It was hard to continue. “She gets this look on her face just before she hops out of my truck.” Keeping his voice steady, he said, “Watching her walk into that dinky apartment just about kills me, Alice.” He picked up the empty glass, then set it back down on the bar. “Maybe I should have tried harder, stuck it out,” he sighed, then shrugged, “The fighting really got to Cassie at the end, though.”

  “You’ve done everything possible for that little girl,” Alice said, eyeing his reflection as she set the bottles back on the shelf. “You’re a great dad, Jake.” She turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. “Fathers are getting custody a lot more these days, y’know.”

  He took his insulated cotton duck jacket from the coat hook by the booths and set his hat on his brow, dead even. “ I can’t start up with the lawyers again. That’s just hell. I’ll take my three long weekends and Thursday nights for the time being, see how things go.”

  “Hang out and keep me company while I lock up, Jake?”

  “Sure.”

  Jake lifted the chairs and set them seat down on the tables, so Lotts could mop up in the morning, then shrugged his coat on. Alice turned to the last few guys at the pool table. “Last call, guys! Anybody want a draft before I shut down the taps?”

  She pulled a few more beers and gave the winner fifty bucks cash when the game ended, closed out the register, and began to sweep behind the bar. “What time you up in the morning, Jake?”

  “Usually before five.” He finished with the last chair.

  “Wow, burnin’ the midnight oil then, huh?”

  “ I just have a load of cattle to run down to the south ranch in the morning. I don’t sleep much these days, anyway. Toss me your keys, Al, I’m gonna start my truck. I’ll warm your car w
hile I’m out there.”

  Outside, it was raining; a chill, sleety drizzle. He went back inside, helped Alice with her coat, waited while she turned on the security lights, set the alarm, and locked the door. The hum of his diesel engine was audible under gusts of wind. It was just after midnight.

  “Cripes, it’s only the last week of September,” Alice said. “Too early for this frozen sleety stuff. Take it easy getting home, okay?”

  “Sure, Alice. Have a good night.”

  His ranch was in the foothills, fifteen miles out of town. Rain would make visibility poor, and it might be snowing in the elevations. He’d better step on it.

  ***** Closing in on midnight, the back and forth windshield wipers lulled Tess into a daze. All day, she’d pushed away the doubts that plagued her. I wanted an adventure. This is it, she thought, stroking the silky fur on Rhiannon’s belly. Tess felt the car slip into lower gear. The little four cylinder engine whined as it climbed mountainous terrain. Suddenly, she was alert and on edge. The rain was turning to sleet, curdling on the road in front of her. These tires are probably worthless.

  D escending a steep incline, her wet brakes squealed. Barely able to see, she slowed to a crawl. Her headlights bounced off sheeting curtains of white. Finally, she made out a sign: Green Junction, Exit 19~ 5 miles.

  The last five miles of the journey seemed to last forever. Wind gusted on the exit ramp, catching the side of the car, tugging the steering wheel in her hands. She managed the curve, but the little car pitched into a steep downhill grade. Unable to see the road through the whiteout in front of her, Tess tapped the brakes. The car fishtailed. She braked again, but her car was sliding through a tunnel of white now, out of control. A stop sign loomed, coming fast.

  Tess stood on the brakes and the car spun, sliding sideways. From the left, she heard a loud horn, the blast of a diesel engine. Her screams echoed a screeching roar. Headlights flashed across her dashboard as a big truck slammed into her door, jamming her left hip, shoving the flimsy car sideways.

  When the truck finally came to a standstill, Tess’s head whipped sideways, smacking the metal on the edge of the car door. Flashing lights whirled, the dark vortex closed, and then there was nothing.

  ***** Outside the truck, gusting wind sent frozen pellets down Jake’s collar. A head of curly blonde hair was slumped on the steering wheel of the little grey car he’d hit. A white dog inside nudged the girl’s face, but she didn’t move. She’s unconscious, or worse. The doors are locked. This rig could catch fire any second.

  Grabbing an extinguisher and flares from behind the seat of his truck, he dialed 911, counting the seconds until the call center picked up. “Hey, Sherry, this is Jake McGreer,” he breathed, trying to control rising panic. “I’m at the intersection of exit 19 and Broad Street.” Setting flares on both sides of the road, he relayed the particulars of the accident. “Send a fire truck, too, just in case,” he finished.

  “You got it, Jake.”

  Pounding the driver’s side window, he tried to rouse the

  girl. The car’s windshield wipers squeaked madly; its engine raced to a high pitched whine. If I disconnect the battery cable and shut the engine off, at least the car won’t catch fire. He fiddled with the badly mangled hood but couldn’t get to the latch. Damn! He pounded the hood with his fist. Interminable seconds passed. As he returned to the girl’s window, panic twisted his gut. “Hey! Wake up. C’mon, sweetheart, you’re scarin’ me!”

  Freezing rain pelted his face as he grabbed a tire iron from the truck, ready to break the windshield. But the girl was picking her head up now, slow and groggy. Thank God.

  “I’m Jake. I’m trying to help you,” he shouted. “Can you turn your engine off?” Responding unsteadily, the girl twisted the key. The little car quieted. “Can you unlock the doors?”

  The locks clicked up. He opened the passenger door. Whining nervously, the dog jumped out. “Stay, Rhiannon. Stay here,” the girl cried, a raw edge of panic in her voice. “I-I picked her up on the road. Sh-she doesn’t know anything yet.”

  “I can take care of the dog,” he soothed, kneeling so he could see the girl. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” Blood covered her sweatshirt. “I-I guess I bumped my head on the side of the door.” Her voice had a wondering kind of drowsiness, which frightened him. She took her hand away from the side of her head. It was sticky with blood.

  “The ambulance is on its way. Look, I’m worried about your neck and spine. Can you wiggle your toes?” he asked.

  “Yeah, my toes are fine,” the girl nodded, still in a daze. “Really, I’m okay,”

  “Let’s let the ambulance crew decide that.”

  He looked up the slippery road behind them. “Can you put your hazards on in case someone is coming off the highway? Move real slow... That’s it, just take it easy,” he coached. When the hazards were blinking, he said, “I’ll go get the dog. What’s her name?”

  “Rhiannon.”

  Jake clapped his hands, calling the butter-colored retriever. The pup bounded over, following him to the truck. Rooting on the dashboard, he found a half stick of beef jerky. The silky pale dog jumped up into the cab, wolfing it down as Jake dug behind the seat for his first aid kit. “Good girl.”

  Ducking back into the car’s passenger door, he clicked the overhead light on. “How are you doing?” he asked gently, leaning in to study her eyes. At least her pupils are contracting.

  “Really, I think I’m okay.” The girl’s voice was still shaky. “Best I can tell, the cut isn’t too deep. There’s a lot of blood, though.”

  Jake tore the wrappers off gauze pads, handing her a stack. “I hit you pretty hard. You were unconscious for a while. You must have a bad concussion, and the way that’s bleeding, you’ll need stitches. The hospital’s forty miles back, in Salida.”

  The girl was gazing at him through wide-spaced blue eyes, set on high cheekbones. She had full lips, a pointy chin, and too much blonde curly hair, full of blood. He’d seen the car’s out of state license plates; her back seat and trunk were full of gear. “Are you from around here?”

  “No.” The girl shook her head, and took a deep breath. “I’m just getting into town for a new job. I’m Tess. Tess Bamberger. I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

  “Jake McGreer. I have a ranch a few miles out of town.”

  Her left hand pressed gauze against the cut on her head. Blood ran down her forearm, but she held her right hand out to him. “Well, you’re the first person I’ve met here, so hi.”

  He wrapped his hand around her ice cold fingers. “Sorry we’re not meeting on better terms, Tess.”

  She took the gauze away from her head. “Me too.”

  Eyeing her worriedly, he handed her another stack of bandages. At least she’s not screaming at me, blaming me for the accident, the way Vicki would.

  A police car pulled along the shoulder, lights flashing. Ronald Karachek was in the driver’s seat. He’d hoped Sergeant Fuller would be on. Ron’s day job was

  Department of Agriculture inspector. He was a part time local cop, full time pain in the ass, and the last person Jake wanted to see.

  “Hi, Ron.”

  Ignoring Jake, Ron shone his flashlight over the truck, slowly examining the damage; the dent in the bumper, the busted passenger headlight. Chest puffed out, he came to the open passenger door. “What happened here?” Ron snarled, sticking his blinding light inside the car.

  Tess leaned forward. “I came off the highway too fast. I didn’t expect the curve, lost control on the hill, and slid through the stop sign. It was my fault.”

  “You hurt?” The officer asked, flashing the light over a pile of blood-soaked gauze pads.

  “She’s got a gash on her head, and she blacked out for few minutes,” Jake offered quietly.

  “I asked her, not you. Step outta that car, Jake,” Officer Ron demanded curtly. Obliging, Jake stepped to the shoulder. “Where you coming from, buddy?�
�� Ron growled, shining the blinding flashlight in his face.

  “Thursday night pool tournament,” Jake said evenly, squinting from the light.

  “Have a seat in your truck. I’m givin’ you a

  breathalyzer.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, I ain't!”

  “Ron, we’ve got a concussed girl here, and no sign of the emergency crew. Let’s stick to priorities, huh?”

  “My priority is fully investigating this accident scene. Now, go sit in your truck,” Ron snarled.

  Cursing under his breath, Jake opened his truck door. This is some hell of a night. Karachek’s been trying to nail me since eighth grade football tryouts. I was quarterback and he got cut from the team.

  The fire truck pulled up, the ambulance right behind it. The ambulance crew chief motioned for Jake to back his truck so they could get to Tess, but Jake waited for Ron’s nod before he complied. Can’t afford to tick off the idiot with the badge.

  While first responders worked on Tess, Ron waved the fire crew back to the station. Then he gave Jake a breathalyzer test. “Inconclusive,” Ron gloated, packing the kit up.

  “You’re full of it, Ron. I drank two ginger ales tonight. Alice will vouch for me,” Jake protested.

  “I expect she will,” Ron smirked, walking back to the police car. With a wide smile, he opened the door to the cruiser. “But will the judge believe her?”

  Refusing to take the bait, Jake watched the ambulance crew pry the car’s driver side door open. His headlights flashed on Tess’s skinny-legged blue jeans and white hoodie, all covered in blood. She held an ice pack to her head.

  “How is she?” he asked, once the medic had fastened a cervical collar around Tess’s neck.

  “She’s refused transport to the hospital,” the paramedic said under her breath, looking concerned. “Nothing’s broken, but there’s a slim chance of cerebral hemorrhage. We don’t want to take any chances, Jake. Her parents are next of kin, but she doesn’t want us to call them.”

  “She was unconscious when I found her. She needs a CAT scan,” Jake agreed, squatting down next to the medic, at eye level with Tess.