"Tell me about him," Jake said, curious about the man who inspired such loyalty that a woman would run through fire to save him, even with her own terrible injuries. A man who could make a patrolman shake and hold back real tears. Jake could feel the genuine emotion pouring from the other man. He looked around the hospital and found others looking just as distressed.
"His name was Andrew Reynolds and he was twenty-five, best mechanic in town. He could fix anything with an engine. I was best man at his wedding only five months ago. He was so happy that Emma married him. They were so happy."
Emma. That was her name. "Is she still alive?" He held his breath.
The patrolman nodded. "As far as I know. She's in surgery. Did you see the accident?"
Jake crumpled up the paper coffee cup and threw it in the trash can. "Shaina and her friend were drunk. I followed them from Senator Hindman's party. Shaina Trent, the woman, was carrying my child. I'm sorry, I don't know the man."
He gave the rest of his statement as clearly as possible, knowing the skidmarks would bear him out.
Jake overheard a young nurse crying in the hall and he walked over to her on the pretext of comforting her. "Are you all right?" He used his voice shamelessly, the tone that was both mesmerizing as well as commanding, designed to put everyone at ease.
She sniffed several times, her eyes bright and a little interested when she saw him. Jake stuck out his hand and patted her shoulder. "I'm Jake Bannaconni." He knew the name would be recognizable, and when her eyes widened, satisfaction settled in his belly. "Can you tell me about the woman? Is she alive?" He looked at the nurse's name tag. Chelsey Harden.
Chelsey nodded. "She's in surgery. She's only twenty-one. I can't believe this happened. She called me earlier today and said she'd just found out she was pregnant. She was so happy. She was telling Andy tonight at dinner. I bet she didn't even have a chance to tell him." She covered her face for a moment and broke into sobs.
Jake patted her shoulder again. "I take it you two were friends."
Chelsey hiccupped and blew her nose. "Very good friends. I went to school with Andrew and he introduced us. Now she has no one. Andrew's parents died last year in a car crash and Emma told me her parents had died when she was a teen. They only had each other. It seems like some kind of curse or something, all these car wrecks." Her face whitened and she covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry. Your wife was killed as well. I'm so sorry."
Jake shook his head. "We weren't married, but we were having a child."
"He's going to be fine. He's a little early, but he's very healthy," Chelsey hastened to assure him.
"How long will he have to stay here?"
Meaning how much time did he have to set things in motion. He had a vague idea what he wanted to do, but no real plan. It was obvious the staff felt sorry for him. His pregnant girlfriend had run off with another man. Shaina was the paparazzi's dream. She loved the spotlight, and her exploits kept many gossip magazines in print.
The world believed that she'd left Jake brokenhearted, and it suited them both to let that assumption go unchallenged. Now that Shaina was dead, sympathy would surround Jake, and he could use that to his advantage.
"You'll have to talk to the doctor, but for a preemie, he's healthy. Maybe a week, but I honestly couldn't tell you." Chelsey let out a soft sigh. "Emma really wanted a family. It was so important to her and to Andy, because they didn't have anyone at all, so they kept saying they would have a big family."
Jake raked a hand through his hair. He should have his son transported immediately back to a hospital in Texas and return home. This wasn't his mess to clean up. But he knew he wouldn't. He had looked into Emma Reynolds's blue-green eyes and something had opened up in him, something nameless he didn't understand. Whatever it was, he couldn't just walk away.
A man approached, and beside Jake, Chelsey straightened, immediately changing her demeanor to a very professional face. The newcomer must be a hospital administrator. Someone had probably recognized Jake and they were sending the big guns to make certain he was comfortable with his son's treatment.
"You're burned, Mr. Bannaconni, on your hands and arms. You need to have that taken care of."
"I didn't even notice," Jake said truthfully, but he allowed the hospital staff to lead him away to an examination room.
He sized up the hospital administrator as his burns were treated. Dignified. Sincere. He was fiercely proud of his hospital--Jake could tell that the moment the doctor began showing him around--yet clearly the hospital had little money to bring in modern equipment.
Jake seized the moment, murmuring about a sizable donation for the care his son had received, asking questions about his child, about how long he'd have to stay, about the repercussions of an early birth and what he could do to better help the hospital care for him. And then he managed to turn the conversation to Emma Reynolds and how terrible he felt for her situation. What were her injuries? Did she need special doctors? He would be more than happy to fly in who or what they needed to help.
Dr. John Grogan, head of the hospital, tried to convince Jake that Emma Reynolds wasn't his responsibility.
Jake looked very grave. "I'm well aware that the rest of the world might think that, but the mother of my child was responsible for
Emma's injuries and the death of her husband. Since apparently Emma has no one else, taking care of bills and making certain she has anything she needs is the least that I can do for her." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "I'd prefer that no reporters know I'm here or that my son is still here."
Grogan nodded. "We're a small hospital, Mr. Bannaconni, but we're very discreet."
Jake let out a relieved sigh and slumped a little to show how tired and upset he was. "Please let Emma's doctors know I'm willing to help out. I need to see my son now, if that's possible."
The first step toward inserting himself into Emma's life was accomplished. He let himself be led to the nursery where he donned a gown, mask and gloves to stare down at the wrinkled little boy who lay naked in the small incubator beneath the glare of the hospital lights.
"HOW is she today, Chelsey?" Jake asked as the young nurse came down the hallway toward him. "I've just come back from seeing my son and thought I'd peek in on her."
Emma's room was the first room closest to the nursery. She was pregnant and the OB doctor wanted her nearby in case she began to miscarry after her traumatic ordeal. It was easy enough for Jake to use the excuse that she was so close to his son to look in on her. Though conscious, Emma had been listless and unresponsive to the doctors and nurses. But when he walked in, her blue-green gaze would jump to his face and stay there.
Chelsey sighed. "She doesn't talk to anyone, Mr. Bannaconni. We're all a little afraid for her. But I heard your son was doing better. He's breathing on his own now and it's been only three days."
"Yes, he seems much better, although he should be gaining more weight, they tell me." Jake paused with his hand on Emma's door. So far no one had ever stopped him from going in. Today he wanted Emma to give the staff her permission to allow him to help her. "I'm going to try to give Emma a reason to live today. You gave me the idea the other day when we talked."
Chelsey patted his shoulder and this time her smile was flirtatious. "I hope you can find a way to get through to her."
Jake smiled back, letting his gaze slide over her with a man's interest. Chelsey's breath caught in her throat and she gave him a little wave as she sauntered off, her hips swaying more than usual. Jake pushed open the door to Emma's room and slipped inside.