Chapter 12
She was back in bed by the time Sam emerged from the shower. He wore a fresh simple white cotton shirt and jeans. The shirt was unbuttoned and the tail untucked. His hair was wet.
He had a military cut, with a short tuft on top, soft and brown, just beginning to pepper with gray.
“Awake already?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair. “You didn’t sleep long.”
“The storm woke me up,” she said, strategically omitting the fact she was having a wet dream about him. “Any sign of it letting up?”
“Maybe close to sunset,” he said. “but not in the short term. Can I get you anything?”
“I’d love a shot of whiskey,” she said.
He chuckled, “Isn’t it a little early in the afternoon for hard liquor, Mrs. Vanderbilt?” he replied. “And besides, it wouldn’t mix well with the pain meds.”
“I was kidding,” she replied. “Well, half kidding. By the way, drop the ‘Mrs.’ If you please. I’m not going to be a ‘Mrs.’ much longer—my divorce should be final in a month. And please, all my friends call me Vandy.”
He raised his eyebrows, “Oh, we’re friends now. That’s good news.”
“I’d like to think so.”
“I have some better news,” he said. “You can have more pain meds. Can you use some.”
“Shit yeah! How about coffee, too?” she asked. “Got any coffee in this joint?”
“Now that I can handle, and I perhaps have good news for you,” he said. “When I was in town last, I bought this new thingy that makes coffee. It’s called a kruger. You ever heard of it?”
She chuckled, “You mean Keurig, not kruger. Of course, I’ve heard of it. I’ve had one for years now.”
“Oh,” he replied, a tone of disappointment in his voice. “I was under the impression it was something new. At any rate, it’s still in the box. I tried to set it up a few days ago, but it looked complicated, so I set it aside. I like things simple. But if you’ll hang in there with me for a minute I’ll try again.”
“Let me come with you,” she said. “My back is a little sore from laying in this bed.”
“You really shouldn’t be putting pressure on that leg,” he said.
“I just need to make it to the coffee table, cowboy,” she said. “I put my own Keurig together at home. I’m pretty good with shit like this. I think I can help you out.”
“You mean you didn’t have a butler or servant to do it for you?” he asked, only half joking.
“No butler, one housecleaner at home,” she said. “I have an Au Pair for child care when my daughter is not in school. Plenty of assistants at work, though, you know.”
“That goes without saying,” he replied. “Someone needs to peel your grapes.”
She squinted at him with mock disapproval. She stood and held her arms out, lifting her injured leg slightly, “You gonna sit there like a big lump or are you gonna help a gal to the table?”
“By all means,” he said. He stood walked to her. She wrapped her arm around him again and she slid into him more comfortably than earlier. The first thing she noticed was his freshly showered smell and the scent of his laundered shirt. There was a hint of cologne that blended nicely with the soap he had used. The scent of cologne was very familiar, she thought. Between her dream and his freshly showered scent, her mind went to a very naughty place.
“Is that Creed Aventus?” she asked.
“Creed what” he replied.
“Your cologne. It’s very familiar to me.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “I wear a little touch of Old Spice.”
She laughed out loud, “Of course. Why did I not guess that?”
Her face turned a little red at the thought of mistaking Creed Aventus for Old Spice.
“It’s good stuff,” he said. “There’s a ship on the bottle, you know.”
“I’m aware. The reason it’s so familiar is that my dad used it.”
“Really?” he responded, smiling.
“Every day.”
“Your father was obviously a man of high character and good taste,” Sam said.
“He was indeed, and he was a creature of habit, like you— and he wore Old Spice every day.”
“Then you know how good it is?” Sam said, fully aware that the men Vandy knew today would never stoop to such a low level by coming anywhere near a bottle of Old Spice.
“I do indeed,” she affirmed. “Actually, that scent brings back some very fond memories from my childhood.”
“$8.95 at the Mercantile. It doesn’t come any better,” he said.
“My apologies if I implied otherwise.”
They made their way to the table and she sat. Sam opened a lower cabinet and pulled out the Keurig box and sat it on the table.
Vandy opened the box and started to pull out the machine and its accessories. Some of the accessories had not been removed from their plastic wrappings.
“I thought you said you tried to put this together,” she said, eyeing him.
He shrugged. His expression reflected a little embarrassment, “I may have exaggerated a little as to the level of commitment and my actual degree of effort in my first attempt at assembly.”
Vandy chuckled out loud. She loved his sense of humor. For fifteen seconds anyway, she had forgotten about her dire circumstances.
“It’s weird.” Sam continued. “I can assemble an M4 rifle from scratch in under a minute, and that’s while wearing a blindfold, but I couldn’t get the little thingy in the water tank.”
“It’s called a float,” she said, “and the tank is called a ‘reservoir.’ Not to worry. They didn’t build this thing for men who have fingers the size of bananas. It would be like me trying to do it wearing two baseball gloves.”
He chuckled, “Well, that explains it.”
Vandy methodically opened all the accessories and lined them up on the table, along with the machine itself.
“Tell me a little about yourself, cowboy,” she asked. “I mean, the snow is still coming down. I think we have some time to kill.”
“Not much to tell, ma’am,” he said.
“Vandy,” she corrected.
“Vandy,” he repeated. “Sorry… habit.”
“Let’s start with the obvious,” she said. “From the looks of this place, it doesn’t look like there is a Mrs. Cowboy around.”
“Nope,” he said.
“Was there ever a Mrs. Cowboy?”
“Yep,” he said. “She was called the Army Rangers. Married to the military when I was eighteen.”
He pointed to his face, “Left after all this happened in 2005.”
“Tell me about that.”
He shook his head, “Naw, a big Hollywood CEO lady like yourself wouldn’t have any interest in my history. It wouldn’t be very interesting.”
“Try me?” she replied. “You said you were in the 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment?”
“Whoa!” he spouted. “Good memory. You said it, but do you have any idea what that is?”
She pulled out the Keurig’s water reservoir and began to assemble position and secure float. She grinned to herself trying to imagine Sam’s enormous hand trying to do this.
She looked back at him and shook her head, “I have no idea whatsoever,” she replied. “I am just good at listening and good with recall of details. Was the 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment something special?”
“I’d like to think so, yes,” he said. “The 75th is based in Fort Benning, Georgia and is made up of one special troops battalion and three Ranger battalions. We specialized in forcible entry operations in hostile environments and conducted special operations raids. I was Sergeant Major of one of the Ranger Battalions.”
“Did you see any action?” Vandy asked.
“More than I care to remember,” he said. “Much more than my fair share. I was deployed multiple times. Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Lebanon, different parts of Africa—lots of places.”
“And that’s where you got those burns,” Vandy asked, “in the service?”
“You are direct, aren’t you?” he noted. “I can always tell most people want to ask me about my burns but rarely do, at least not for a long while.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I run a business. I’m pretty plain spoken. It’s both a blessing and a curse, if you know what I mean.”
“I imagine so,” he said. “Yes, I got burned in an explosion at Haditha Dam in Iraq, back in 2003. The explosion damn near killed me.”
“Did you ever consider plastic surgery?”
“What?” he said in a feigned tone. “You don’t think I’m perfect like I am?”
“Actually, I do think you’re quite handsome as you are,” she replied, “but from your body language, I can tell you don’t feel that way. Once you get past that initial shock from seeing you for the first time, it’s really not distracting. And you’re a handsome man, cowboy.”
“Why thank you,” he said, straightening his back a little. “I know you’re lyin’ but thanks anyway.”
She smiled softly.
“I’m not lying, but let’s face it, most people who get burns, particularly in the face, at least explore the option of surgical correction.”
Sam paused as if in deep reflection. Vandy was beginning to wonder if her direct language was too offensive. Her mouth had gotten her into trouble more times than she could remember.
He sighed lightly before responding.
“The explosion did more serious damage than burning my skin, ma’am… I mean… Vandy. It not only burned my skin but propelled my entire body through a wall. I was wrecked. I lost my hearing in my left ear. I have a metal left hip. I was in traction for four months for my back and neck. I couldn’t walk on my own two feet for several weeks after that. I’ve had three reconstructive surgeries on my hip, knee and ankle. I went through years of rehabilitation… I was so sick of laying in hospitals and having surgeries…”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s none of my business. It’s obvious that you’ve been through pain and suffering I could not begin to imagine. I’m so sorry I said anything. Forgive me.”
He held his hand up.
“No apologies necessary. It was tough, I’m not gonna lie,” he said. “After four years of surgeries and rehabilitation, I was physically close to normal, but the Army would no longer deploy me. I was not going to push a pencil, and training turned out to not be my calling, so I left the army. After that, I did visit plastic surgeons.”
“What did they say?” Vandy asked.
“That it would be a long and painful process and that they couldn’t guarantee anything. Once I heard how many surgeries were involved and what the costs were and what the rehabilitation was like, I bagged it,” he said. “I’ve had enough pain and suffering.”
“I understand not wanting to go through more pain, after all you have been though, but wouldn’t the military pay for it?” she asked.
“For all the knee and hip reconstruction and the rehabilitation, the Army was great. For plastic surgery, it was going to be an uphill battle,” he said. “Cosmetic stuff is not high on their priority list. It didn’t matter. I was done anyway.”
“Is that when you decided to become an EMT?”
He smiled, “You’re pretty good. Yep. Even though I despised being a patient, I developed so much respect for what the doctors and nurses did, I decided I wanted to be part of it. I was born to serve in some capacity—it’s my life’s calling. I craved purpose after I left the military. If I could no longer be a Ranger, I was going to serve in a different way.”
“And being an EMT was the thing for you, not a doctor or a nurse?”
He nodded, “I’m a field guy, not an indoors guy. Buildings and appointment rooms smother me. I need to be outdoors. Helping people who had been in accidents or had sudden health emergencies—it reminded me of being in the service again.”
“But you’re no longer working as an EMT?” she said.
His facial expression dimmed, “Yes, out here on an emergency basis.”
“But not in an everyday capacity?” Vandy pressed.
“No,” he admitted.
“What happened?” she asked.
He paused momentarily, as if collecting his thoughts, “Two years ago—there was a fire, a house in Whitefish. I was on the response team. We beat the fire department there. I heard a girl screaming from inside. Her mother was outside begging me to help. I was ordered to wait for the emergency rescue team. The little girl inside was only 9-years old. I couldn’t bear to wait. I thought the girl was dying. I went in against orders.”
He paused again; a pained expression formed on his face. Vandy held back the urge to speak up. After a moment, he continued.
“I found her trapped under a fallen bookcase. Her legs had been crushed and her back injured. Under normal circumstances we are supposed to bring a gurney in and allow the rescue team to assess the situation. There was just no time for all that. Flames were burning and I thought the roof would collapse at any minute, so I lifted the book case away and picked her up and carried her to safety. The roof of the house collapsed almost as soon as I had her outside. The rescue team arrived four minutes later.”
“After the roof collapsed?” Vandy affirmed.
He nodded.
“She would have died, then and there. You did a good thing,” Vandy said.
He shook his head. “The girl suffered a spinal injury. She never walked again. Whether it was the bookcase or me moving her, I’m not certain anyone will ever know. The whole thing came under a year-long review. The girl’s father, who was out of town at the time, sued me and the city, contending that the movement was premature and that it exacerbated the injuries to her legs and spine. The mother was too afraid of her husband to help me much, though she thanked me privately more than once.”
“Alive and in a wheelchair, is still alive,” Vandy said.
“The court agreed with you, but it took many long months. I was suspended from duty while the investigation was happening,” he said. “I had a lot of support from my medical team and the fire department, and I was eventually cleared and restored to duty, but… the experience really disillusioned me—lawyers, reporters, investigators, depositions. It was all overwhelming. I needed to get away from there.”
The story nearly melted her heart. She could very well understand the impact of a life filled with lawyers and reporters. The people in her life are all about what’s in it for them. They do nothing without a personal reward. No banana, no monkey, her dad used to say. It didn’t start out that way for her, but over time… This man reminded her so much of her dad. She suppressed an urge to place her hand on his.
“So, Montana became home?” Vandy supposed.
He nodded, a small smile reappearing, “I was born and raised near here. I missed the space and the quiet, which is what I needed in my life the most. I moved here three years ago and never looked back.”
“Family?” she asked.
“None,” he said. “My parents passed away long ago. My brother was in the service. He died in Lebanon. No other siblings. No other family.”
“So, what’s next for you?” she asked.
“I’d like to raise horses,” he said. “My daddy raised horses less than a hundred miles from here. I always wanted to come back and work the ranch, but he got deep in debt and my mom had to sell it all after he died. She died herself not long after.”
“I love horses,” Vandy said, reflectively. “My father raised horses in upstate New York. I grew up riding them. I have so many fond memories of that farm.”
“What kind of horses?” Sam asked.
“Thoroughbreds, Belgian Warmbloods, Pintos, some Paints. You?”
“Mostly Appaloosas,” Sam said. “Some Warmbloods and Halfingers, too.”
“Oh wow, that takes me back. Sometimes I wish…”
“Wish what?”
“Wish that I had gone a different direction in life,” she said.
“You’re a billionaire,” Sam scoffed. “Not too many would stray from that path if given a choice.”
“Yeah? Look what’s it’s gotten me?” she replied. “A broken marriage; an FTC investigation; a nervous breakdown and now I have men trying to kill me. I’ve never been so miserable in my life and I don’t see it changing.”
Sam nodded, “Well, when you put it like that…”
“It really makes you think,” she said. “My dad gave me an old Paint to learn how to ride. Beautiful auburn horse with large white markings on her back and sides. I called her Old Red. Love that horse. Those days were the happiest of my life. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“I do, but you know, you are in control of your life,” he said. “You have more money than you could ever spend. You can make a change happen if you wanted to. Just walk away.”
“It’s not that easy, cowboy,” she said, falling quiet.
“Sometimes, it is,” he said. “It just requires courage and commitment.”
She locked the Keurig’s water reservoir in place. “There, done. See, it was easy.”
He looked at it and nodded, “Impressive.”
She held up her hands, “All you need are tiny fingers like these.”
She smiled and held up her hand toward him, palm out.
Sam held up his own hand against hers. Her hand was tiny, her fingers short and slim. Held up against his enormous hand, the contrast was astounding. The smile disappeared from her face when his hand touched hers. Again, she found herself involuntarily responding to his touch. Her eyes met his. Neither averted their eyes for several seconds.
Finally, it was Vandy who broke the gaze.
“Now, do you have any coffee for this thing?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, standing and moving to the cabinet. “I bought this starter pack. It has forty samples in it. I never knew there were so many choices.”
“Cool, pull those bad boys out, and let’s see them,” she said.
Sam placed the box of K-cups on the table and picked up the machine, “I’ll get this plugged in and fill up the tank. You pull us out some coffee.”
“Sure, what do you like?” she said.
“Coffee,” he replied. “Plain black coffee.”
She rolled her eyes, “Why am I not surprised to hear that? You should expand your horizons, you know.”
She held up two of the samples, “Doesn’t Raspberry Chocolate Truffle or Brown Sugar Crumble just sound delish?”
Sam made an ugly face.
“I guess not,” she said. “Well, I’m going to…”
Vandy’s sentence was interrupted by four loud gunshots ringing out; followed by the sound of shattered glass. She turned her head toward the sound, catching a glimpse of the broken window. She caught sight of the bottle just before it hit the hardwood floor, exploding into flames.
“Oh my god!” Vandy screamed. “The cabin is on fire!”