Worth Waiting For

The Arizona sun beat down unmercifully, creating shimmers of heat that rose from the asphalt highway that stretched forever in both directions. Debbie Williams, her gray eyes shielded behind dark sunglasses, looked out from where she sat sideways behind the steering wheel of her car, with its hood up, windows down and doors open, and sipped her third bottle of water. Triple A had promised someone would be in here within an hour. An hour had come and gone. She sighed as she watched a coyote traipse through scrub among the saguaro cactus not too far away. She wasn't worried about the coyote. She was more afraid of snakes. But at this time of day they would most likely be holed up under a rock somewhere.

Which sounded pretty good, actually.

A hot breeze did nothing to cool her off, but at least it stirred the air some so that she didn't feel quite so smothered. She was grateful that she had chosen to wear her pink short shorts and matching t-shirt instead of the capris she normally wore to town, and that she kept her light brown hair cut short in a pixie. Not for the first time this afternoon she wondered what had ever possessed her to move here four years ago from lush, green Missouri. Oh, yeah. A man. Of course. But until this moment she had been happy with her choice to stay, even if the relationship had disintegrated shortly after her arrival.

A car appeared as little more than a dot back in the direction of Tucson. There had been a couple of others stop and ask if she needed any assistance, but she had assured them that help was on the way. As she watched it come closer, she was finally able to see it was a police car and smiled. As an emergency room nurse in a small town, she had become acquainted with most of the officers in the area. She wondered which one this would be.

Eventually, the cruiser pulled up behind her and the lights on top were activated before the officer got out of the car. She recognized Quentin Villareal, who returned her smile with one of his own.

“Hi,” she greeted him, raising her bottle of water in lieu of a wave.

“Hey Deb. Looks like you're stranded.”

He had one of those rich, baritone voices that probably lent itself well to singing, and the dark Latino good looks to go with it. The mid day sun was reflected in his mirrored sunglasses.

“Yeah. Overheated.”

“Have any help coming?”

“Triple A is supposed to be sending someone. They said they'd be here within an hour but its been more than that.”

“You've been sitting here that long?” He glanced back at the cruiser. “Why don't you come back and wait in my car?”

She nodded and laughed with relief, “Thanks. You don't need to ask me twice!”

Eagerly, she stood up and threw her sunglasses back on the seat before taking the three quarters full bottle of water and walking back to the cruiser, where he opened the door to let her in then closed it behind her. Moments later, he slid behind the steering wheel. She shivered as the cold air from the air conditioner washed over her but she didn't care. Never had she been more grateful for it.

“Oh lord, does that feel good,” she groaned, leaning forward toward the vent with her eyes closed.

He smiled, “I bet it does. It's a good thing you had water with you.”

“Plenty. I just came from the store and had stocked up.”

“Anything perishable?”

She nodded, “Yes, but it's packed in dry ice in a cooler.”

“Good thinking.”

“One of the first things I learned to do when I moved here was pack stuff in dry ice for the trip home since I live so far from town.”

“How far?”

“About twenty-five miles, in Starbright, so with this heat it's better to be safe than sorry.”

“So at this point you're about half way home?”

She nodded and grimaced, “Yeah. Isn't that the way it goes? A car never breaks down in town.”

He chuckled, “Nope. Murphy's law forbids it.”

There were a few moments of companionable silence between them while communications between other officers and dispatchers were heard over the radio.

“I haven't seen you at work,” he finally commented, and she grinned.

“It's my four days off.”

“Ah. What do you like to do on your days off?”

“Sleep. Go to Tucson. Break down coming back home...”

“Nothing like a stress free break, is there?”

She chuckled.

He paused and glanced in his rear view mirror before turning his attention back to her.

“So when are you going to go out with me?”

Her answering smile was regretful. This wasn't the first time he'd asked.

“You know I don't date cops, Quentin,” she reminded him, silently adding to herself that if she did he would definitely be the one.

“I've always wondered why.”

Looking away she stared pensively at her car for a moment.

“Because my heart couldn't take the worry each time he went to work.”

Their eyes met and he nodded with quiet understanding. Then he glanced back at the mirror.

“I think I see your tow coming.”

A few minutes later, a flat bed tow truck stopped in front of her car then backed up to position the truck closer. Debbie and Quentin emerged from the cruiser and met the smiling driver as he walked back to her car, putting on grease stained gloves along the way.

“Hey folks. Sorry it took so long. It's being a busy day.”

She smiled and assured the driver that he was fine before joining Quentin to stand beside her car's back fender. Working a lever, he slid the bed of the truck back and down to just in front of her car before efficiently preparing it for loading. As he was pulling the car up onto the bed, Quentin looked back over his shoulder. Suddenly he was roughly shoving Debbie away from the road.

“Shit! Get out of the way!”

Moments later, a car sped by in a blur and a rush of hot air. Without another word, Quentin was racing to the cruiser and taking off in pursuit, lights and siren going as he went. Both he and the speeding car were soon out of sight.

“Whew!” Debbie returned to stand where she could watch her car being loaded. “I'd hate to see his insurance bill.”

It wasn't long before the truck driver was helping her into the cab and soon they were pulling onto the roadway.

Several miles down the road, they saw Quentin's cruiser on the shoulder with its lights still flashing. As they grew closer, it was obvious the car he'd been pursing was nowhere in sight. The tow driver slowed the truck when it became apparent that Quentin wasn't visible. Then, as they drew alongside the cruiser, they saw him lying face down in the gravel several feet from his car.

“Oh my god!”

Debbie was out of the truck before it was completely stopped and rushing to fall to her knees beside the officer's unconscious body. Fresh blood was seeping from beneath him.

“Quentin!” she yelled. “Quentin, can you hear me?”

With the strength she'd honed over her years managing patients, she turned him onto his back. Quickly feeling his neck she was gratified to find a weak pulse then ripped open his uniform and undershirt. There she found a large, bleeding bullet hole just below his ribs. Without a thought she tore her t-shirt over her head, quickly folded it, and firmly applied it to the wound. The tow driver appeared beside her with a first aid kit.

“I called for help,” he told her and offered her the kit. “I don't know if this will help.”

“Open it,” she ordered and watched as he knelt and lifted the lid. Inside among the usual plastic bandages, were gauze sponges in sterile packages. “I need all of those.”

The driver quickly began tearing open the wrappers and handing the sponges to her, which she pressed to the wound before again covering it again with the t-shirt.

“See if you can get into his trunk. There should be an emergency kit in there.”

The driver stood and hurried around the cruiser. A couple of minutes later, he returned with a much larger first aid kit and a blanket. Dropping down once again beside her, he opened the kit and wordlessly began handing her everything she asked for. The heavy iron smell of blood hung on the hot air.

“Quentin! Don't you dare die on me!” she yelled as she worked, never taking her eyes from him and periodically checking his pulse with her bloody fingers. “Dammit! You'll owe me a dinner for this!”

Minutes passed before they heard sirens in the distance. By the time the paramedics and first police officers arrived, she was performing CPR while the driver held the bandages in place. Gratefully, they stood back and allowed the emergency crews to take over. Shortly thereafter, Quentin was loaded in the ambulance and rushed to the hospital.

It was forty-five minutes before the police had taken their statements and released them. One officer had given them towels to wipe the blood from their skin but their clothes were still saturated when they climbed back into the tow truck. The driver took her directly to the hospital in Starbright and dropped her off before going on to deliver her car to her driveway. As a staff nurse, Debbie was immediately allowed into the trauma area where she was met by a coworker.

“He's in surgery,” she was told, “He coded three times but they were able to bring him back each time. It doesn't look good.”

“Has his family been notified?”

The nurse nodded, “Yes, but they're in Albuquerque. It'll take them some time to get here.”

Suddenly, Debbie felt herself go weak and bent forward with her hands on her knees.

“Here,” the nurse urged her onto a nearby gurney, “Lie here for a moment until your system settles.”

Gratefully, Debbie laid her head on the pillow and shut her eyes while the business of emergency medicine went on around her. After a few minutes, once she was again steady enough to stand, she made her way to the nurses lounge where she washed the remaining blood from her body and changed from her bloody shorts and bra to a set of scrubs. From there she went upstairs to the surgical floor where she was told that Quentin was still in surgery. As she was a hospital nurse, she was given an out of the way seat beside the unit desk where she began her wait, continuing to pray for his life.

Nearly three hours later, she watched as he was wheeled down the hall to recovery, a tube down his throat and more coming from both arms. He was almost as pale as the sheets he was lying on. The surgeon appeared at the desk shortly after to inquire as to whether his family had arrived.

“Not yet,” the unit secretary replied, “but Debbie has been waiting to see how he did.”

The doctor looked over as Debbie stood and recognized her as a nurse from the emergency room.

“You were the one who found him, right?”

“Yes.”

The doctor nodded and pointedly met her gaze.

“He's not out of the woods yet but you bought him some critical time. Good job.”

She closed her eyes in relief, “I'm just glad I was there.”

“You work in emergency,” the surgeon continued, “so I expect you know him pretty well?”

“Yes. I consider him a friend.”

He patted her shoulder before turning to go.

“I'd say he's lucky to have you as a friend.”

Once Quentin was moved from the recovery room to a bed in ICU, Debbie was a frequent visitor. He was asleep most of the time, but once he woke at the sound of her voice. She gently ran her hand over his forearm.

“Hey there, handsome,” she greeted him softly with a smile and he returned it with a small one of his own.

“Hi.” His voice was barely a whisper over the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

His eyes closed and she thought he'd gone back to sleep, but then they opened again and he looked at her with a weak smile. Despite his weakness, his expression was intent and his voice was a little stronger.

“Now will you go out with me?”

She chuckled softly and squeezed his hand.

“I told you you owed me a dinner.”

He smiled again.

“They told me what you did,” he whispered, “Thank you.”

And with that, his eyes closed and he went back to sleep.

Quentin's family arrived soon after and Debbie went home, exhausted. Before locking up, she unloaded her groceries from the car and was surprised to find her frozen food still frozen, thanks to the cooler and dry ice. Locking the door behind her, she put away the perishables and went to shower before falling into bed. The rest of the groceries could wait until morning.

He remained in ICU for three days before being moved into a regular room. There, Debbie would visit him on her breaks, where she was warmly welcomed by his large family. A week later, she visited him one last time before he was released. Though still weak and easily tired, his dark brown eyes were sparkling and there was a ready smile when she walked into the room. For once, his family were not in attendance.

“So I hear they're springing you today,” she greeted him with a wide smile.

He grinned as he reached for her hand.

“And not a moment too soon.”

Lacing his fingers with hers, he gave her hand a squeeze.

“As soon as I am cleared to drive, I'm taking you out. What's your dining pleasure?”

“Are you kidding? I live for chimichangas!”

“Well, hell,” he snorted, “I can make those better than any restaurant.”

“Are you inviting me to your house?”

“Are you open to it? It would mean we can see each other sooner.”

She pretended to seriously consider his invitation then smiled.

“Oh, why not? I've always wondered how bachelor cops live.”

“I'll be sure to pick my underwear up off the floor.”

Over the following two weeks, they spoke every night, first by phone then by video chat. Debbie's wariness about becoming involved with a police officer gradually muted as she became better acquainted with this man she had once thought of as just a good looking friend, and she found herself falling under the spell of his sincerity, charm and good humor. She also discovered his gentle heart as he confessed one night to keeping a rabbit as a pet.

“A rabbit, Quentin? A big, tough, he-man cop lives with a bunny rabbit?”

He grinned self-consciously.

“Yeah, I know. I found him abandoned around a rest area one night and turned him over to animal control. When no one claimed him I decided to adopt him.” His grin broadened as he shrugged. “The little guy kinda grew on me.”

Then he lifted the docile white and black Holland Lop to the camera so she could see it. Her heart melted at the sight of its pendulous ears and twitching nose.

“Oh, how cute! What's its name?”

“Tiger.”

Finally, in the late afternoon of her next night off, she dressed in a rose colored eyelet sundress and drove the thirty minutes to his home outside of a neighboring community. It was a traditional adobe house with endemic landscaping that blended naturally with the surrounding desert. He met her at the door wearing jeans, a red polo shirt, and a wide smile.

“Welcome!”

He held the door open as she entered where delicious aromas set her mouth watering.

“Mi casa es su casa." His smile was admiring as she passed. "And you are beautiful."

The room was furnished with comfort in mind. Earth tone colors enhanced the appeal of the southwestern décor. A bar separated the living room from the kitchen with tall stools waiting for anyone to watch the meal preparations. A dining area, open to both, was just off the kitchen. The lighting was subdued, except for the kitchen, which was brightly lit. A trio of tealights were burning in the center of the round table. Classical guitar played softly in the background.

Debbie smiled, immediately at ease, then glanced at him with an impish glint in her eyes.

“You really did pick your underwear up off the floor.”

He grinned, giving her his best adoring look even as his dark eyes twinkled in shared mischief.

“Anything for you, chica.” He gestured toward the dining table, which was already set. “Come sit while I finish up.”

She took a seat and watched as he busied himself with the preparations of their meal.

“It smells absolutely wonderful. What are you fixing?”

“Chimichangas. The lady's favorite.”

“Oh my! Didn't you say you made them better than any restaurant?”

He grinned as he glanced up from the deep fryer.

“I did. But it's my mother's recipe and instruction, so I can't take all the credit.”

“That has to be better than I could make,” she replied wryly. “My specialty is shepherds pie and whatever comes out of a can.”

He chuckled.

“I would imagine with the schedule you keep that's all you can manage.”

“True. Then on my days off I do something different. I eat whatever comes out of my freezer, which usually takes a bit more effort.”

“Well, tonight I want you to eat like a queen. Or, at least a well off peasant.”

She laughed and for a short while the only sounds came from the deep fryer. Finally, she glanced down at her hands where they rested in her lap then back at him.

“I'm so glad you're doing okay,” she confessed quietly. “I was so afraid for you.”

He turned away from the rice he was preparing, his expression serious as he met her eyes.

“I was in good hands from the start. They said you refused to give up on me.”

“I didn't want to lose a friend.”

“Only a friend?”

“Okay.” Her smile was soft and a bit shy. “A good friend that could become more.”

He answered with a slow smile.

“I hope so.”

A few minutes later, he prepared them each a plate of chimigangas and rice, with a generous dollop of sour cream on the side. Then he turned out the kitchen light and, because Debbie didn't drink alcohol, brought two glasses of Sprite to the table. Classical guitar continued to play as they ate. Tiger hopped in and sniffed curiously at Debbie's feet, delighting her, before hopping away again.

They shared funny stories and sad experiences from their work. He spoke of why he became a cop while she talked about becoming an emergency room nurse. While each had had serious relationships in the past, neither had ever married, and they shared similar wishes for a future with kids.

After dinner, they left their empty dishes on the table and went into the living room where they took their seats on the over stuffed sofa, she at one end, he at the other. For a few minutes they sat quietly as the guitar music continued, intensely aware of each other just a couple of feet apart. Finally, it was Quentin who broke the silence as he faced her with a wondering look in his eyes.

“It's hard to believe that you're actually here.”

Her lips moved in a small smile as she looked at her hands clasped in her lap.

“I know. I'm sorry it took a near tragedy to make me realize what I was missing by continuing to refuse you.” Her sad gaze met his. “I'm still afraid of what might happen to you. But I'm more afraid of losing my chance for something special.”

After a moment, he extended his hand, palm up, and she accepted it. With a gentle tug, he brought her to sit beside him, their bodies pressed closely together. He slid one arm around her while he raised her face with his other hand.

“You are my something special,” he murmured, “I knew this. That's why I've been patient for two years. I knew that if we were meant to be then eventually you might feel the same way.”

“I said that I didn't date cops, and I meant it,” she confessed in a near whisper, “But I knew that if I did, you would be the one.”

His thumb brushed her cheek before he cupped the back of her head and drew her closer until his lips settled tenderly on hers. After a moment he pulled away just far enough to look into her eyes. His smile was gentle with a hint of masculine triumph.

“That was worth waiting for,” he whispered, then kissed her again. On a sigh, she opened to him as he slowly pressed her against the back of the couch. Her arms encircled him, sliding up to hold his shoulders, as he rained gentle kisses across her cheek and down her neck. With a final nuzzle behind her ear, he pulled back. They were each breathing shallowly with need.

Debbie trembled with the emotions flooding through her.

“I-I don't know if I'm ready for this.”

He smiled as he once again caressed her face.

“That's okay, querida. We have all the time in the world.”

Sitting back, he pulled her forward until his arm was once again around her shoulders and he clasped her hand with his.

“Just give us a chance to see where this takes us. We'll take it as slow as you need.” He raised her hand and kissed her palm as his eyes reflected his banked passion. “You've always been worth waiting for.”

Suddenly, the quiet guitar music broke into a lively flamenco and they both chuckled as the mood instantly lightened. She laid her head against his shoulder and lightly pressed her hand to his chest where she felt his heart beating.

“Will you come to my house next time? I am capable of fixing things from scratch.” Looking up at him, she smiled. “Though I don't believe it would be anything as good as what I had here tonight.”

He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Shepherds Pie sounds good to me.”

“Saturday maybe? About seven?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

“Good.” She took a deep breath then sighed regretfully. “I need to go before it gets too late.”

After pressing a quick kiss to the underside of his chin, she pulled away, and he rose to his feet to offer his hand to help her up. He gave her a tight hug.

“I don't want this night to end.”

“No,” she agreed, “But there will be other times.”

They gazed at one another, their eyes searching for and making promises, before she turned and made her way to the door. Once there, she faced him again with a soft smile.

“Call me?”

“Every night,” he agreed huskily then gave her a final kiss before she walked out the door. He watched as she made her way to her car, making sure there were no troubles in starting it. Then, with a final wave, she backed out of his driveway and was gone.