Page 91 of Bend Toward the Sun

Too late. Harry hooked a finger under the hem of her shirt and drew her close, locking his knees around her thighs.

“Are you bleeding?” His voice was a sullen rumble, but his touch was gentle. He splayed her fingers open. Darkened calluses embellished his palm, and a thin curve of dirt lingered under his thumbnails—hints of wildness on typically immaculate hands.

On Rowan’s own hand, the puncture wound from the pushpin was tiny, and the bleeding had already stopped. A dry, rusty smear crossed her palm where she’d wiped it on her shorts. Harry curled her fingers inward to make a fist, then wrapped his big hand around it.

They were quiet for a long time. Rowan looked at the top of his head, and at the tangle of linens in the corner of the room. At the work gloves on his dresser, laid perfectly stacked next to his shabby ball cap. The little ring he’d made of grapevine tendrils back in December sat there, too.

She looked to the nightstand. If she squinted, Rowan could make out a woman with glossy mahogany hair in the photos, and the kind of soul-stirring smile that gave you no choice but to smile back.

Harry noticed where her attention had gone. “That’s Cora.” His voice cracked on her name.

Rowan guided his arms around her waist. At first, he was rigid, difficult to move. When she drew his head against her belly, he unwound, and his arms tightened around her.

“Tell me,” she said.

The clock in the bathroom ticked, and the refrigerator hummed in the kitchen. Outside, an eastern towhee trilled its merry“drink your tea!”song, and a car rumbled by on the gravel drive. Harry’s bracing exhale felt hot against her middle.

“For some reason, when it rains in L.A., people forget how to fucking drive,” he began.

Rowan chuckled. “That’s not unique to Los Angeles.”

Harry pressed his forehead into her belly, looking at the floor. “I was stuck in traffic on the 405. The sky was throwing down rain. Lightning, booming thunder. Suddenly, these people come running through the standstill traffic, waving arms, stopping at every few cars, asking for—” He swallowed hard. “A doctor.

“About thirty cars back, a woman was in labor. Paramedics hadn’t arrived yet. God, I was so pumped. Pulled into the median,left my car. Cora was a first-time mom. Her husband’s name was Wesley. He was freaking out, but she”—Harry laughed softly—“shewas an absolute boss, comfortinghimduring her contractions. The baby came about ten minutes after I got there. She wouldn’t have needed me at all. They joked about naming the baby Storm.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah. They did.” His voice was barely audible. “Harrison Storm Woodward.”

Rowan’s heart twisted. “It’s a strong name.” She threaded her fingers through his hair.

“When the ambulance arrived, I tried to get them to bend the rules and let Wesley ride with Cora and the baby. Company policy said no. Insurance reasons, or some garbage like that. Wesley asked if I could stay with them, and since they’d be taken to the hospital where I had admitting privileges, I was allowed to go.”

A shudder went through him.

“I promised Wesley I’d take care of her. I told them both—everything was going to be okay. That Cora had done the hard part. He gave me a big hug, both of us getting soaked in the pissing rain while they loaded Cora and the baby into the ambulance. She blew Wesley a kiss. ‘See you soon, Daddy’ is what she said. I can still hear the way they laughed at that.”

Harry balked at continuing, his fingers curling against her back. His low groan of grief vibrated against her belly. Rowan made soft soothing sounds into his hair, and he began again.

“Everything seemed fine. Cora got tired, completely typical. Dozed with the baby in her arms, smile on her face. We’d just pulled off the exit when her vitals tanked. Hidden hemorrhage. Theblood. The storm literally shook the rig as she started to bleed out. Those EMTs busted their asses, and I was compressing her belly with my entire body weight. But by the time we reached the hospital, she couldn’t be saved.”

Rowan sank to her knees in front of him and gripped his thighs. She pressed her forehead to his.

“I insisted on being the one to tell Wesley when he arrived. Took him two hours to get out of that traffic. Cora was gone before he’d even gotten off the 405.”

Harry stood abruptly, stepping around her. Rowan stayed on the floor, sitting back on her heels. “Her sister blames me. Name’s Lena, I’ve never met her.” He held up the stack of photos. “A few weeks after Cora died, I started getting these at the hospital, then at home. At first, they had short, awful letters with them. Now, it’s only pictures. Of Cora.” He flicked them onto the bed like playing cards, one at a time. Each one was a different image of Cora Woodward’s smiling face, vibrant and full of life.

“Jesus, Harry. How did she find you here?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Wesley, probably. We’ve stayed in touch. I don’t think he’d have realized this was her intent, though. He’s a good guy.”

Rowan stood and gathered the photos and envelopes. The looped handwriting looked familiar. “Cora Woodward deserves to be mourned, Harry. But her sister is trying to collect a debt you don’t owe. Youhaveto stop opening these.”

“I can’t help myself.”

“Fine. When they arrive, give them to me. I’ll take care of them.”

I’ll take care ofyou.