At Joe’s whispered words, she started, her face feeling warm. Joe gestured toward Emma.
“Well, is she?”
She nodded. “You’re really good with kids.”
“I have a niece, too. Kelsey’s thirteen now, and completely spoiled. Mostly by me.” He smiled down at Emma, as if remembering his niece at that age. “I used to baby-sit while my brother and sister-in-law took night classes.”
He probably thought Lindsay hadn’t baby-sat enough before being named Emma’s guardian, but he didn’t say so.
Finally, Joe looked up again. “Well, you wanted to ask me some questions.”
He straightened, as if preparing himself for an onslaught. Lindsay couldn’t blame him. She’d hit him with the toughest question yesterday.
She shifted again because her leg was already getting stiff. “It’s just that it’s killing me, having this blank spot in my memory. And don’t tell me I’m better off not knowing. Everyone says that.”
“Okay. I won’t.” He took a deep breath and began. “It was a rainy January instead of a snowy one, and it was pouring that night. The traffic was moving too fast and—”
She kept nodding her head until he paused, cocking his head to the side. Then she broke in.
“Those are the things you put in the police report. I want to know the things you didn’t put in it.”
He watched her in a measuring gaze, as if trying to decide if she could handle the truth. Could she? What if he told her that the accident was her fault? She’d suspected it, but that was different than hearing it spoken aloud.
“Okay. The scene was a mess. It was raining so hard that I was nearly on top of it before I saw it. Twisted, smoking metal was everywhere. Your car rolled and came to rest backward in the ditch.”
He paused, perhaps hoping she would tell him it was enough, but she only nodded for him to continue. She tried to picture the scene as he described it, but the images refused to come together in her thoughts.
“The semi driver made a mistake passing. A fatal one.” He traced a finger along the hemmed edge of the blanket as he spoke. “I called for backup and then rushed to the truck. After I determined the driver was a K— Uh, sorry, that means ‘killed.’ Well, after that, I went to the car.”
“Delia was still alive, right?”
He cleared his throat. “There was a pulse.”
“You know what I want to know, then. Why me?” She hated that her voice cracked when she asked, that her need to know had knotted her insides.
Joe brushed his palms on the legs of his cargo shorts. “From initial examination, I determined that the passenger’s injuries were more serious than the driver’s. The passenger was also unconscious. Since I was expecting backup, and I didn’t want to cause the victim further injury if I could avoid it, I assisted the driver first. I was hoping for a quick response from the EMTs.”
Lindsay wondered if he realized how strange his voice sounded, as if he was testifying in court instead of just filling her in on what happened the night of the accident. As a police officer, he had to know how to read body language to determine whether suspects might be lying. She might not have his level of training, but even she had to question the pointed way he was avoiding meeting her gaze. What wasn’t he telling her?
“But it didn’t turn out as you’d hoped, did it?” she asked him, when he didn’t say more.
“No, it didn’t.” He didn’t look up as he said it. “After assisting the first victim to safety near the underpass, I started back for the second victim.”
“You were too late.” She’d known this all along, so why did it create so much of an ache inside her now?
“I was too late.”
His softly spoken words carried the finality of a judge handing down a death sentence. Wasn’t that what he’d given her sister when he’d chosen not to pull her from the car first? No. Of course not. She wasn’t being fair, but she couldn’t help it. Whether she’d had serious injuries or not, he hadn’t even given Delia a chance to survive. No matter how rational his reasons, he had chosen between Lindsay’s life and her sister’s. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made the wrong choice.
“The car burst into flames,” Joe continued. “I sprinted back to it, but I couldn’t get past the heat.”
Lindsay nodded to let him know she’d heard him, even though his words made her feel as raw as she had right after the accident, when she wore her wounds on the outside as well as the inside.
Joe sat in a stiff pose, as if bracing himself for more questions. She wanted to ask him some, too. Like why he hadn’t realized that the car would burst into flames and why he hadn’t at least given Delia a chance by pulling her out first. But the points were moot, the consequences devastating. Still, Joe had put himself in danger, at least attempting to save them both, and he deserved her gratitude, even if she didn’t understand his decisions.
“Thank you—” she paused as each word caused a fresh pinprick to her heart, but she finally forced out “—for saving me.” She brushed thumbs along her lash lines, catching tears before they could fall.
“You’re welcome.” Color stained his cheeks, and he watched the child next to him, instead of looking at Lindsay. “I was just doing my job.”
“Well, thanks for doing your job,” she said. “Come to think of it, with the extent of my injuries, how were you able to walk me to safety?”
“I didn’t help you walk.” He drew his brows together and watched her, seeming surprised she hadn’t figured out that answer herself. “I carried you.”
Lindsay stared at him, her jaw slack. Maybe she couldn’t remember the accident, but she should have realized she never could have walked away from that car, even with help. But she was having trouble digesting that the handsome police officer had carried her.
“I really shouldn’t have moved you,” he said with a shrug. “It could have made your injuries worse. I thought your leg might be broken, but I didn’t know about the pelvis break.”
“My parents told me that I was in critical condition that first day or so.”
He nodded and glanced down again at the child, who had shifted and was using his leg as a pillow.
“So,” he began, when he looked up again, “how are you adapting to instant motherhood?”
Lindsay blinked. As much as she didn’t want to talk about her injuries anymore, she hadn’t expected him to ask about that. “Oh. We’re okay. It’s a transition … for both of us, but we’re learning together.”
She wished she could stop there. Should have. But she heard herself droning on anyway. “We’re going to be great. I just know it. I fixed up the second bedroom in my condo for her, and …”
At his smile, she finally let her words trail away.
“It’s got to be tough.”
“I never expected to struggle this much.”
“Parents struggle, even those who have their kids from birth.”
“Emma doesn’t even live with me full-time yet.”
He lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”
“After the accident, Mom and Dad took care of Emma while I was in the hospital and then at the rehab center,” she said. “Now that I’ve started back to work part-time—I work at a doctor’s office—I’ve been keeping Emma with me about half the time.”
“Things might get better after the transition.”
“I