Read It Happened One Night Online
Authors: Sharon Sala
It Happened One Night (12 page)
He keyed his own mike.
“In the freezer?”
“That's a positive, Captain. We're bringing them out right now.”
“Are they alive?”
“They've got pulses.”
Reed's knees went weak.
“Thank you, Lord.” When he turned around, Harley Clay was there. “They found them, Mrs. Clay. They're alive.”
“Yes,” Harley said.
Reed stared at her for a moment, and then took her by the hand.
“Harley?”
“What?”
“How did you know?”
“That Sam was alive?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I could feel him...here,” she said, and put her hand on her heart.
Reed shook his head. “Excuse my language, but I'm thinking that's a sign of a damned good marriage. You two are to be congratulated on making such a good choice.”
Harley nodded, her chin quivering as the Captain walked away. The longer she stood waiting for the men to be evacuated, the lighter her heart became.
Choice?
Maybe. But it wasn't good sense or choice that had first led her to Sam, it had been the champagne. After that crazy ceremony she didn't really remember, then yes, it had been about choices. She'd certainly chosen to stay with him when every instinct she'd had told her it was a mistake. Now they had the beginnings of a wonderful marriage and a baby on the way. Thank God Sam was alive to hear the news.
Suddenly, there was a stirring of people near the doorway and she knew they were bringing them out. She started moving toward the waiting ambulances,
desperate to see Sam's face. He would be all right. She knew that just as she'd known he was still alive.
Tisha was there, too. Still crying, but now with tears of relief. Harley moved past her toward the first stretcher.
It was the boy. She looked down, staring past the oxygen mask to the thin, smoke-streaked features of a man/child's face. Pride for what Sam and Charlie had done brought tears to her eyes. No matter how the boy's fate ended, they'd given him another chance at life.
The second stretcher was coming now. She ran to meet it. It was Charlie, his head swathed in bandages.
“Is he going to be all right?” she asked.
“Yes, ma'am,” a paramedic said.
She clutched her hands against her middle and turned toward the smoking building, waiting for them to bring out the man who'd claimed her heart.
Seconds passed. Long, interminable seconds in which her breath caught and started a dozen times, and then she saw them coming with the last stretcher and started to run.
“Sam.”
He heard her voice and opened his eyes. Harley was running beside him, trying to keep up.
“Junie?”
“I love you, Sam. I almost waited too long to tell you, but I'm telling you now.”
Peace  settled  within  Sam  in  a  way  he'd  never
known. He reached for her hand and she caught it, still moving with the men who'd brought him out.
“Thank you, June Bug.”
She started to cry, hiccuping on sobs as she trotted to keep up with the men's longer strides.
“Don't cry, honey,” Sam said. “I'm not hurt. Just got a little smoke.”
“I'm not crying,” Harley said.
Sam wanted to laugh, but his chest was too sore and tight.
“Then you're leaking,” he said.
Moments later, the firemen lowered him to the ground beside a waiting ambulance. One of the men patted him on the shoulder.
“I need to get another gurney, then we'll load you up in a couple of seconds, Sam.”
“Take your time,” Sam said. “I've got all I need right here beside me.”
Harley dropped to her knees. Ignoring the streaks of soot and smoke, she laid her cheek against Sam's grimy face.
It took all the strength Sam had, but he got his arms around her neck. His voice was quiet, but the truth of what he said told Harley far more about what he'd gone through than she wanted to know.
“I wasn't sure I'd ever get to do this again,” he said.
Harley started to cry.
“Ah, God, Junie, don't cry. You'll have me bawling, too.”
She kissed him then, tasting fire and smoke and the man who was her husband.
“Sam?”
“What, honey?”
“I'm going to have your baby.”
Shock rocked Sam where he lay. He stared at her in disbelief, gazing at the familiar curves of her mouth, at two very small freckles on the bridge of her nose that she continually denied existed, remembering the way she sighed when he slid inside her, knowing he'd given her all he'd had to give.
He thought of how close he'd come to not hearing this news. Her face blurred, but he quickly blinked away tears.
Ah God.
“Sam?”
He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips, almost too moved to speak.
“Thank you, Harley, for giving us a chance.”
“Thank me? I should be the one thanking you,” she said. “You came after me when I got scared and ran. You loved me when I was afraid to love myself. You're my hero, Sam Clay, now and forever.”
He shook his head. “I'm no hero. I'm just a man, and only God in heaven knows how much I love you.”
Harley  wanted  to  hug  him  but  was  afraid  she'd
squeeze a part of his body that was hurt, so she settled for another brief kiss.
“I'm getting you all dirty,” Sam said, and pointed to the streak of black that was now on her chin.
Harley shivered. She wanted to strip him naked just to make sure he was unharmed and he was worrying about getting her dirty? If he only knew. Not wanting him to see how close she'd come to coming undone, she made herself smile.
“I've been dirty before. I seem to remember you telling me something about our wedding night and strawberries and champagne.”
“That wasn't dirt. That was good, messy sex.”
Harley wanted to laugh. The fear she'd lived with all afternoon was almost gone, but it was still too fresh to allow much room for joy.
“Sam?”
“What, honey?”
“When you're well, there's something I want to do.”
“Anything,” he said.
“I want to marry you again. I don't want to go through life without remembering our vows.”
Sam's eyes filled with tears. With a few simple words, Harley had shattered what was left of his control.
“It would be my pleasure,” he said.
Harley grinned.
“Oh, yes, Sam, I promise you it most certainly will.”
“H
arley June, are you sure you want to do this?”
Harley smiled at her mother and patted her cheek as they waited for the minister to appear.
“Yes, Mama, I'm sure.”
Marcie made herself smile when she wanted to scream.
“It's just so...so...”
“Tacky. The word is tacky, Mama.”
Marcie sighed. “Yes. Well. I'm sure you know what's best.”
Harley grinned. Mama had come a long way in the past five months just as they all had. Charlie had suffered a concussion from the fire but had quickly recovered. The boy Sam and Charlie had rescued was
alive and on the road to complete recovery. The baby she was carrying was healthy and due the day before Valentine's Day. The way she figured it, she could afford to cut her Mama some slack.
And she had to admit, the Love Me Tender wedding chapel left a lot to be desired. It was a cross culture of architectural nightmares, somewhat between
Little House on the Prairie
and
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.
Fake flowers hung from rustic beams inside the small chapel, interspersed among what appeared to be chasing Christmas lights wound around two fake pillars near the pulpit. There was a flashing neon cross over the pulpit, while the pulpit, itself, was draped in purple satin with a picture of Elvis embroidered on the front.
Sam stood nearby, his hands in his pockets, deep in conversation with Harley's dad. The two men had taken to each other like ducks to water and the coming attraction of a grandchild had cemented their bond even more. Ever since the day Sam had taken Marcie to task for making Harley cry, she deferred to him with batting eyes and homemade pound cakes, betting on the philosophy on which she'd been raised to see her through. If feminine wiles didn't work on a man, feeding him would.
The baby kicked and Harley laid her hand on her tummy.
“Patience, sweet thing,” she said softly. “We're waiting on the preacher man.”
No sooner had she spoken when music began to play. The familiar strains of “Love Me Tender” filled every tiny space inside the room.
“Here we go,” Harley said, and patted her mother on the back.
In the midst of the chorus, there was a loud popping sound at the altar and then a large puff of smoke, through which the preacher appeared; complete with black hair and sideburns, and wearing a white satin jumpsuit. He gave his embroidered cape a dramatic flourish, not unlike that of a cast-off vampire and began to sing along with the song.
“Good Lord!” Marcie muttered, and cast a nervous eye at Harley.
“Mother,” Harley said warningly.
“I'm just startled, that's all,” Marcie said, trying not to glare back at her only child.
Sam caught Harley's eye and winked. Harley stifled a laugh and winked back. So this was what she couldn't remember. No wonder.
“Mother, it's time,” Harley said.
Marcie gathered her matron of honor bouquet tightly against her middle and lifted her chin. In that moment, Harley got a glimpse of her great-great-grandmother Devane standing on the steps of her plantation home and slapping General Sherman for riding through her yard. There was something to be said for Southern women besides their gentle speech and impeccable manners. They had backbones made of steel.
Marcie started down the aisle toward the hip-hunching preacher, thinking she should be carrying a gun for protection, not a handful of daisies. To her relief, the song ended and the preacher stilled before she reached the altar. She caught Sam's gaze and then looked at Dewey and sighed. They were actually smiling. It figured. Men had no sense when it came to decorum.
More music swelled within the room as a taped version of “The Wedding March” rocked the walls. They all turned to look up the aisle.
Harley was coming toward them carrying a bouquet of white roses in front of her burgeoning belly. The hem of her pink maternity dress brushed gently against her knees as she walked and Sam's heart swelled inside his throat. At this moment, nothing else mattered. He had it all.
And then Harley was holding his hand and smiling at him as they turned to face the preacher.
The words came and went, the same as they had before, and Harley would later realize she still didn't remember saying her vows to Sam. All she'd seen was the love in his eyesâand all she'd heard was the beating of her heart.
Suddenly, the preacher slapped the Bible down on the pulpit and lifted his arms up to the ceiling.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” he shouted. “Thankyouver'much.”
Suddenly, “You Ain't Nothin' but a Hound Dog,”
blasted from the loudspeakers. The preacher looked wild-eyed and bolted for the back where the sound equipment was housed.
Dewey snorted.
Marcie gasped and dropped her bouquet.
Harley laughed out loud.
Sam took her in his arms and kissed the laughter, trying hard not to cry.
It was the best damned day of his life.
* * * * *
“Skillfully balancing suspense and romance, Sala gives readers a nonstop breath-holding adventure.”
â
Publishers Weekly
on
Going Once
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It Happened One Night
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