on his shaky, toothpick legs and scribbled something on a piece of scrap paper on the counter. He couldn’t see very well and wrote letters and numbers bigger than Matt did. Jenna sounded out the big word from where she stood.
Hospital.
Pop looked in the direction of the sink and then away. A big knot tied up Jenna’s stomach.
Not Aunt Rachel.
Jenna’s hands drifted down in the soapy water as she stared out the kitchen window at the blue-and-pink sky. Aunt Rachel meant everything to Jenna.
“Are we done with dishes?” Matt asked, standing on the stool next to her, totally clueless about what was going on.
First she’d lost her mom and now Aunt Rachel. Her family was cursed.
With a sob, Jenna ran out the back door, stopping only to pull on her boots. She was halfway to the hangar when she heard the screen door creak open behind her. Ignoring Pop calling to her, Jenna continued on to the hangar. Only then did she stop. And that was just to stick her soapy fingers in her mouth and whistle.
Once. Twice.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Not Aunt Rachel.
God had taken everyone Jenna cared about.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to whistle a third time, only nothing came out.
Jenna sank to the ground, hugging herself tight.
Even Shadow had left her.
Stupid, stupid horse.
She whistled again. This time, there was an answering whistle, clear and strong above the sound of thundering hooves.
A dark horse stopped nearly on top of Jenna. Jumping up, she grabbed a handful of thick mane, then swung herself onto Shadow’s back and guided her one true friend out across the open prairie at a full gallop.
“YOU SHOULD GET some rest,” Jackson advised Cole, having driven the Silver Bend’s van and crew to the hospital to meet Cole and Doc. They were planning to leave as soon as they heard if Rachel was okay. “You don’t know how long the exam will take.”
“I’ll wait until we see the doctor,” Cole said, stretching his legs out in front of him as he slouched deeper into the waiting room seat.
Doc suspected Rachel had a couple of bruised or broken ribs, as well as a severe concussion. But she was alive, which was a much better fate than her copilot.
“I still can’t believe you took off your harness and crawled into that wreck. I had no idea you were so crazy,” Doc said, reclining across three waiting room chairs.
Jackson frowned, spinning his wedding band. “He’s not that crazy.”
Not anymore. Cole had been wild in his youth, but joining the Hot Shots had made him realize that crazy stunts like that led to early retirement…or death.
“He just lost his mind.” Logan came in with four cups of coffee balanced in his hands. “Even my kids know Cole’s as predictable as a rock.”
“We didn’t think you were coming out,” Doc said almost cheerfully, sitting up and reaching for a coffee. “It was like some action movie watching you click your lifeline on her and grab the second rope just before the plane fell.”
“Rachel was injured.” And in a daze from her head wound. And then… “But she was alert enough to make me grab a picture from the instrument panel.”
“A picture? Of what? Her boyfriend?” Doc perked up.
“It would have to be important,” Logan agreed. “More than just a photo of her faithful dog, Shep.”
“Maybe it was of her copilot, poor bastard,” Jackson said.
His three friends looked at Cole expectantly. What would be so important to Rachel that she’d stop during their escape? He didn’t know, and yet—
Cole pulled the crumpled photo out of his pocket. It was a snapshot of two kids—a little boy and an older girl. It was the image of the girl that sent Cole’s heart pounding. She looked like his sister, Sally, in the fourth or fifth grade. He squinted at the face. No. Not his sister, but the same blue eyes, the same white-blond hair, the same dimpled smile.
Rachel’s daughter? Not unless she’d had a high-school pregnancy with a boy having the same Nordic coloring as Cole’s family. With her dark eyes and hair, Rachel had taken after her father, while Missy had been the spitting image of their blond bombshell mother.
Cole focused again on the glossy picture. The boy was younger, maybe five or six, with dark coloring and chubby cheeks. Cole’s attention turned back to the girl. There was something about the slant of the child’s eyes that was familiar.
Missy’s eyes.
“Someday, we’ll have kids together and live happily ever after.” With one bare toe, Missy sent the porch swing moving and snuggled deeper into Cole’s arms, sliding a hand beneath his waistband.
Cole tried to remember the face of the guy Missy had foolishly wanted to marry. Lyle had been tall with brown hair and eyes.
Something cold and unpleasant stole Cole’s breath. At least part of Missy’s promise had come true.
This was his daughter.
Doc snatched the picture from his fingers. “Hey, it’s just a couple of kids.” His voice was filled with disappointment.
Jackson and Logan crowded in to see for themselves. After a moment, Jackson gave Cole a knowing look.
“Are you waiting for Rachel Quinlan?” A doctor in green scrubs stood in the doorway.
“Is she awake?” Cole asked. Because he needed answers to questions he hadn’t even thought of yet.
RACHEL FLEW LOW through the forest. Branches whipped past her face too quickly for her to fend off. The wind was cold and there was snow on the ground. She was freezing. And scared.
“There’s nothing like soaring far above the earth.” Danny’s voice, distant yet nearby.
Only, they weren’t soaring far above the earth.
A fleeting memory of smoke-filled sky, and then Rachel was plunging into a green darkness with no end. Plunging—
“Rachel.” Cole’s voice this time, stern but comforting in the darkness.
She forced open heavy lids only to squeeze them shut against the bright sunshine.
Someone walked by, shoes squeaking. And voices were everywhere—urgent, loud, whispering, commanding, fearful.
Not sunshine, then. She was inside. So, why was she so cold? Her toes. Her left hand. Her head hurt. A lot. Where was she?
She pried her eyes open, determined to keep them open this time.
“Rachel.” Cole stood beside her looking grim.
She was in a hospital bed surrounded by machines. Scary machines. Tubes ran into her left hand. Curtained partitions surrounded her on three sides.
“Was there…” Her voice was rough. “Was I in an accident?” She tried not to panic, but this didn’t look good. And Rachel couldn’t remember, could barely draw breath herself.
Cole nodded.
“You’re in the emergency room. Do you know this man?” a nurse asked, leaning closer to look deep into Rachel’s eyes with a small flashlight, making Rachel dizzy.
The need to vomit was intense, then faded as the nurse drew back.
“He’s my sister’s boyfriend.” Missy. Where was Missy? She couldn’t see any of the other beds around her. But Cole wouldn’t be with Rachel if Missy was hurt, unless…
Cole’s