His Only Wife

He’d been her first for many things. Her first kiss. Her first real date. Her first love. Her first—and only—husband. Without warning, her eyes began to tear.

“You okay?”

Aubrey sat bolt upright at the intrusion. A middle-aged man stood next to her open window.

“Ah…yeah,” she mumbled, embarrassed at being caught on the verge of crying. “Just tired.”

“I’m going down the line, passing the word. There’s a wreck a mile or two up the road.”

“Is it serious?”

“A semi and four cars, they’re saying. Road’s completely blocked in both directions.”

The distant wail of a siren grew louder. As the ambulance passed, adrenaline flooded Aubrey’s system, one of the many side effects of working in a hospital E.R., she supposed. Though, for her, it had recently become worse.

“Hope you brought a good book to read.” The middle-aged man rapped her door and gave her a toothy smile before moving on. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

“Thanks,” she called after him, her breathing, thankfully, slowing.

No book, but she had brought along some medical periodicals on health care for the aged and how to live independently after a hip fracture. She took one from the seat beside her and thumbed through it. Hopefully, she’d find something beneficial to her grandmother and compelling enough to keep her mind off the traffic jam. And Gage.

“Aubrey.” He stood at her window.

Her hands involuntarily jerked, and the newsletter dropped onto her lap. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m about a dozen cars behind you. I walked up to check on you.”

A dozen cars? He must have pulled out of the gas station right behind her.

“I’m fine.” She collected the scattered newsletter pages.

“So we’re back to that?”

“What?”

He leaned down and rested his forearms on her open window. “One-or two-word sentences.”

Damn. He did know her well. “I guess.”

His arms were tanned, the dusting of soft brown hair on them denser than she remembered. She shouldn’t stare, but it was easier looking at his arms than his face.

“Is talking with me that tough?” he asked, readjusting his cowboy hat. “I remember when we’d stay up half the night talking. After we got married, we’d stay up half the night making l—”

“Details aren’t necessary. I remember.”

As did Gage, if his wide grin was any indication.

What was with him, anyway? They’d seen each other occasionally through the years, most recently at her grandfather’s funeral. Those encounters had always been on the tense side and notably brief. Had enough time finally gone by that they could relax in each other’s company and be themselves? It appeared so for Gage.

“Two whole sentences. That’s a start.” He chuckled and strode away.

But not to his truck. Instead, he cut behind her SUV and came up the passenger side. Before she could protest, he’d settled in beside her. Her glower had no dimming affects on the twinkle lighting his dark brown eyes.

“I don’t remember inviting you in.”

In response, he removed his cowboy hat and set it on the dash. “Forget making yourself comfortable, you won’t be staying long.”

“Another thirty minutes, I’d say. The sheriff’s office called in a special tow truck for the semi, and it hasn’t arrived yet.”

Siren wailing, the ambulance passed them going in the opposite direction toward Pineville. Momentarily distracted, Aubrey looked out her window. “I hope no one’s injured.”

“Two. Seriously, but not critically.”

“How do you know all this?” She shot him a quizzical glance.

“I made a call on my cell phone. I have a friend who works in the newsroom at the radio station in Pineville.”

“A friend?”

He turned toward her. “A good friend.” His expression hinted at more.

“I’m happy for you.” She crossed her arms over her middle and told herself it was indigestion and not jealousy gnawing at her stomach. For all she cared, he could have a thousand good friends.

“He and I went to fire academy together.”

Aubrey groaned inwardly. Shame on her for walking right into his trap.

She remembered a very brief conversation they’d had at her grandfather’s funeral when Gage mentioned joining the Blue Ridge Volunteer Fire Department. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he’d stuck with it, but she refrained, not certain she wanted to learn everything about him yet.

“You still a nurse in the emergency room at Tucson General?” He moved his seat back to accommodate his six-foot-plus frame.

Aubrey rolled her eyes and shook her head. The man had a lot of nerve. “Not at the moment.”

“You quit your job?”

“I took a leave of absence.”

“Wow.” He stopped fiddling with the seat position and faced her. “I thought you loved nursing.”

“I do.” Aubrey heard her voice crack and swallowed before continuing. “Just not the E.R. lately.”

She thought of Jesse and Maureen—saw them as she had at their thirtieth wedding anniversary, a hundred family members and friends in attendance to join them in celebrating. Dear friends of the Stuarts, Aubrey had known “Uncle” Jesse and “Aunt” Maureen practically her entire life. She remembered being deeply touched at the way they gazed sweetly into each other’s faces. How wonderful it must be, she’d thought, to still be in love after so many years.

But then another, different image of Jesse’s and Maureen’s faces came to her. Broken and battered and covered in blood. Less than a week after the anniversary celebration, the couple had been brought into the E.R. while Aubrey was on duty, victims of an automobile accident. Upon glimpsing them, Aubrey had froze.

All of the E.R.’s staff vast skill and expertise proved in-adequate. They couldn’t save her parents’ friends. Within the hour, Uncle Jesse and Aunt Maureen were both dead.

Aubrey lost more than two patients and more than two family friends that sad and terrible day. She lost a part of herself. And though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she was terribly afraid she might never find it again.