“Ryan, wake up.”
She nudged his shoulder, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through her leg. He didn’t move. No groan, no shift of weight. A cold, hollow fear started to claw at her throat, making it even harder to catch a breath. “Please… don’t be dead.”
She rested her hand against the side of his face, finding a slow, steady pulse beneath the layer of grit. Relief made her eyes sting. He was alive. Stilling her own ragged breathing, she listened. Muffled thuds vibrated through the concrete floor beneath them. Distant voices, distorted and hollow as if carrying through a long tunnel, drifted into the tiny pocket of air. The metallic hiss of a hydraulic jack echoed somewhere above her head, followed by the frantic scrape of wood being moved.
Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe the rescuers were just a trick of a mind deprived of oxygen. The voices sounded so far away, like ghosts of the old livery finally reclaiming their space. Her fingers curled into the fabric of Ryan’s shirt, anchoring herself to the only thing that mattered—the man she loved. He had her back, just like he’d promised. She couldn’t lose him now. Blinking again, her eyelids heavy, she dared to close her eyes, just a minute. Just one.
Sharp, rhythmic pounding vibrated through the concrete floor, echoing the dull throb behind Ryan’s eyes. Every jagged inhale tasted of pulverized cedar and a century’s worth of dust. He tried to shift, but a crushing weight across his shoulder blades pinned him flat, the wood groaning at the slightest movement.
Coughing out a mouthful of grit, memories returned in a terrifying rush. The sonic crack of the main header. The blinding wall of white. Pushing through the pain, he realized he wasn’t alone in the dark. The soft, living warmth beneath his chest belonged to only one woman. “Nicole?”
Raspy and pained, his voice was swallowed by the heavy silence. He didn’t feel the floorboards beneath him; he felt the steady, reassuring rise and fall of her breathing. He’d made it. He’d reached her in time. Making a strained effort, he tried to shift his weight so as not to hurt her. It was impossible to move any real distance. Thankfully, he was able to lean most of his weight away from her. At least he hoped so.
A cold sweat broke across his forehead as he considered their situation. The space was too small. The ceiling sat inches from his head, a heavy, jagged lid on a wooden coffin. He squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead resting against the crown of Nicole’s head. The scent of her—coconut and sawdust—was the only thing keeping the walls from closing in completely.
Muffled shouts carried through the wreckage. The distorted sounds of men’s voices and the unmistakable hiss of a hydraulic jack drifted into the tiny pocket of air. They were close. His brothers were out there, fighting through the mess George had left behind. And then a thought. The phone. If he could reach the phone, he could help guide his family. Lying a few feet away, the blue light of the screen was a tiny beacon in the gloom, he triedto stretch for it, but the weight on his back held him fast. He tightened his hold on Nicole, his arms forming a protective cage. He didn’t care about the loft or the livery or the fury currently boiling in his blood toward George. He only cared about the woman in his arms. “I love you.” He whispered the words into the dark, a silent vow meant only for her. She didn’t respond, her body limp and heavy, but the steady thrum of her heart against his ribs was all the anchor he needed. He wouldn’t let the dark win. All that mattered was right here. Nicole. If they could get out from under this mess, all would be well. It had to be.
“Everyone, stop.” Sean waved an arm at the people who had been doing their best to free Ryan and Nicole. “We’re close. I don’t want any mistakes.”
Mariah gripped the hands of the women on either side of her. Eileen’s palm was a solid, grounding weight on her left, while Anne’s fingers provided a tight, trembling anchor on her right. Neither woman had pulled away for even a moment, the shared terror acting as a bridge across decades of silence. A faint, bluish glow flickered deep within the wreckage, barely visible behind a splintered sheet of drywall.
“There.” Mariah breathed the word like a secret. “I see light.”
“Must be the phone,” another voice muttered.
One final beam stood between the rescuers and her son. Together, his brothers carefully balanced the weight, lifting it up and away from the mound beneath. Scrambling closer, Sean cleared more of the scattered mess. “Eureka. I see blue jeans.” The announcement triggered a chorus of relieved shouts from everyone in the room.
“Nobody move them!” Sprinting toward the opening with a small dark bag in hand, Nora pushed through the crowd ofbrothers, her voice cutting through the cheers with professional authority. “I need to make sure there are no serious injuries before we transport.”
Transport. Hospital. The two women at Mariah’s side squeezed her hands, reminding her once again that despite her best efforts all these years, she wasn’t alone.
Crawling over the last mound of plaster and insulation, Nora stilled. She peered into the small, dark pocket of space revealed by the overhead work lights that had been brought in, then threw her head back. A sudden burst of laughter escaped, a sound so unexpected it silenced the entire room.
Scrambling closer, Mariah reached out and grabbed her daughter-in-law’s hand. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Pointing into the hole, Nora bit back another laugh.
Following the direction of Nora’s finger, Mariah leaned forward, her eyes adjusting to the dimness below—then she saw it. Wrapped in a tight embrace, Ryan and Nicole were kissing like a couple of high schoolers under the bleachers. And just like those kids caught after the game, the commotion of hoots and hollers had the lovebirds pulling apart.
Looking up, Ryan managed a weak smile. A smattering of white dust and a single streak of blood along his temple marked his face, but his eyes were clear and focused on the woman in his arms. “Hey. It was either panic, or kiss the girl.” A sly grin took over his face, his arms still tightly around Nicole. “My mama didn’t raise no dummy.”
No, Mariah leaned back. No she had not.
Chapter Eighteen
“What are you doing just standing there?” Aunt Eileen whizzed past Ryan, a heavy tray in her hand. “There’s cases of water that need to be brought out to the coolers.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ryan tipped his hat.
“Oh, wait.” Aunt Eileen stopped short. “How’s the shoulder feeling?”
Raising his arm, rotating it left then right, he grinned at her. “Like nothing ever happened.”
“Well, good.” She blew him a kiss. “I’m just so happy that Mariah agreed to attend the wedding here. This is so much easier than having it at the hotel in Sadieville.”
He couldn’t argue with her there. Something had shifted in his mother after the cave in. She didn’t say anything, and by no means was everything suddenly bright and rosy, but at least his mother wasn’t muttering nasty jabs under her breath anymore.
“Hey there, handsome.” Nicole snuck up beside him, curled around him, and planted a sweet but too brief kiss on his lips. “We need some help in the kitchen. Aunt Eileen wants the reception area all set up and ready to go before the ceremony starts.”
