“No one minded that he’d been hit by a drunk driver last year and had already had sixteen surgeries to fix his bad leg. And everyone loved Vlad, his three-legged service dog.” Heath put his hand over his heart. “That dog was so special.”
Okay, wait a minute. Sixteen surgeries … in the last year? And a three-legged service dog named Vlad? Lyric looked around the room. Out of all of these highly trained medical personnel, no one was calling bullshit on this story? How was that even possible?
“Thank God I was out doing sprints with my trainer,” he patted his left knee, “when I heard the screams.”
“Oh no … poor Mikial.” A nurse in teal scrubs white-knuckled the armrest of her chair.
“Lyric and I found him at the same time. His wheelchair had gotten stuck in a patch of mud and turned over. He’d crawled five feet to a tree, Vlad under one arm. The lava was barreling down on him. The poor little guy didn’t stand a chance.”
Lyric pinched the bridge of her nose, not sure how much longer she was going to be able to keep quiet. New lava flowed at the rate of one-third a mile per hour. True, it went quite a bit faster in established lava tubes, but lava was hard-pressed to barrel down on anyone. Well … outside of a horror movie. Or a football player’s tall tale.
“I looked back at his wheelchair just as the lava melted it into a pile of molten metal.” A shudder went through Heath, as if the molten wheelchair was right there in front of him. “It was terrifying.”
“If we’d been any later…” He shook his head, then reached up as if to wipe a tear away. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
Jesus. Acting was his true calling, not football. His agent should really try to get him a role in the next big action movie. With the right stuntman, no one would even notice his knee.
Visibly moved, Heath took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “In the time that it took us to get to Mikial, the lava changed course again. We were cut off from the trail to safety. The lava was practically nipping at our toes. I thought … this is it … our earthly journey is over. I was certain that it was my destiny not to win another Super Bowl, but to die there, on Kilauea. So I pulled Mikial and Lyric into a hug, and we all prayed that God would take us quick.” He bowed his head.
Thank God he’d finally mentioned God. Lyric would have hated to have left him out, what with the kitchen sink and everything else he’d thrown into this story.
“Just when all hope was lost, the whooshing of helicopter blades had us all looking up. A helicopter tour buzzed around the volcano.” He made whooshing helicopter noises.
“The Lord was smiling on you … yessir, he surely was.” An elderly woman in a red tracksuit with a huge “volunteer” badge pinned to her left breast nodded solemnly.
There were murmurs of assent all through the room. Everyone, including Lyric’s mother, was buying this terrible story.
“At first the helicopter didn’t see us, so quick as lightning, Lyric whipped a branch off of the tree we were standing under, stuck it in the lava so that it caught on fire, and waved it back and forth like it was the checkered flag at NASCAR.” He patted Lyric on the knee. “My Lyric’s so cool under pressure. I don’t think we would have made it if she’d hadn’t been so clearheaded.”
She didn’t know how she felt about being “his Lyric.” Even if it was just for pretend.
“In a daring maneuver, the helicopter dipped low and picked us up. They didn’t have room for us inside, so we hung onto the rails. We made it to safety just as the tree was engulfed in flames.” Heath sat on the edge of his chair and gestured with his hands.
Between the burning tree and the lava, where exactly had the helicopter landed? Or had they just sent down a rope so that Heath, Mikial, and she could all climb to safety?
Lyric kept waiting for someone to ask, but they all seemed spellbound by the story. Even Harmony looked like she had mellowed. It was the most ridiculous thing Lyric had ever seen.
A nurse in pink scrubs swiped at the tears running down her face. “I’m so glad you and Lyric were there to save those boys.”
“I know.” Heath glanced heavenward, like he expected an angel to descend and thank him personally for saving Mikial. “God’s grace. In fact, if God hadn’t been with us and led us to Mikial—things could have been much worse.” His eyes swept around the room. “It turns out that Mikial is Vladimir Putin’s favorite nephew. Mikial’s father is the Russian ambassador to Haw
aii.”
Okay, there it was. Heath had totally jumped the shark, and someone was going to call him on it. Why would Russia even have an ambassador to Hawaii? Not to mention, how the hell had Heath managed to turn their meeting into an international incident?
“Oh Lordy, Lordy. If that little boy had died, it could have started World War Three,” said a man in a gray janitor’s uniform sitting in a chair beside his cleaning cart. “Deuce, the two of you saved the United States from what could have been the bloodiest war in history.”
“Well, sir, I am a patriot, and so is my Lyric. It was our duty as Americans.”
Cue “The Star-Spangled Banner” and red, white, and blue fireworks.
“I am grateful every day for the chance I had to serve my country. And for the divine intervention that led me to my Lyric again. I finally found a keeper, and I’m holding on to her with both hands.”
Without waiting to hear how his latest proclamation had gone over, Heath put his arm around Lyric and pulled her in for a kiss. His mouth moved against hers with an unhurried gentleness that had her toes curling and her breath catching in her throat. For long seconds, she forgot about the crowd around them—and it seemed like he did too. At least, until someone cleared his throat from the doorway.
Heath pulled away, and Lyric came back to earth just in time to see the surgeon walk up to her mother and say, “The surgery couldn’t have gone any better.”
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