by Sky, JoAnn
She stood there, waiting for Noah to speak. He stood there, watching her reaction. Silence strung between them like an inflating balloon—stretching, stretching… Pushing on her chest. Suffocating her.
“I need to find JJ.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her jacket again. “The dirt-caked boy?”
Noah chuckled. “He’s probably down by the creek, or out in the fields watching the wild horses up in the foothills. I’ll walk back there with you.” He eyed her outfit, stalling on her heels. “You should change first.”
He was right; her clothes weren’t fit to slog through dirt and knee-high weeds. What had possessed her to get all dressed up? She knew the answer.
It was who she was now. It was her armor, her shield. It gave her courage. “I’m fine. Well, maybe just my shoes.”
“Your work boots are in the mudroom.”
“My boots? What would possess you all to keep those ragged things?” It was almost like her father had expected her to return. She pushed aside the thought before it gained traction in her heart.
Noah raised a brow and nodded toward her heels. “Good thing we did.”
She pressed her lips together. He was right, but she’d still prove him wrong. She looked at her suitcases. “Can you move my luggage into my room?”
“Uh, sure, but I’m sort of still set up there. I didn’t think I should stay in your daddy’s room.”
A squeezing sensation cinched her spine as she realized what he was saying. He’d been staying in her room, sleeping in her bed. Her bed. Dear Lord, the demons she’d battle tonight in her sleep. Her cheeks heated.
“That makes sense,” she rushed to say. “I didn’t realize. I mean, I get you’re watching JJ, I just wasn’t thinking.” But where did that leave her? She looked back at her luggage. “I’ll stay in town.” Her chest felt lighter as soon as the words left her lips. “It’s probably better. Like you said, JJ doesn’t even know me.”
“Don’t be foolish, Gracie. This is your home.”
Her eyes flicked to his, a snappy retort on her lips.
“I mean,” he said, softening his tone, “you haven’t sold it yet.” He tried for a smile. “Besides, you need to get to know JJ. You’re all the family he has now.”
“We’re not related.” She clamped her lips together, wishing the words, fit for a six-year-old sourpuss, had never passed through.
“Blood isn’t a necessity for family,” Noah said tightly.
“I know.” But she still hadn’t gotten used to thinking of the boy as her brother. Judging from JJ’s greeting, the lack of kinship was mutual. And not something that would change overnight. The more pressing issue was where to sleep—and it certainly wasn’t going to be under the same roof as Noah. “Like I said, I’ll stay at a hotel.”
“You’ll stay here. I was planning to move to the cottage, just for a few days, until you and JJ get to know each other. George and I were using it as a work shed, but I cleaned it out when you called. Then you never showed. But it won’t take me long to move my stuff. This way, I’ll be next door if you need anything.”
Her breathing hitched. Next door? Of course, the cottage was next door. And his plan made sense, at least until JJ was comfortable with her. Still, it’d make more sense if it wasn’t Noah. And if next door wasn’t so close.
“I’ll move my stuff after dinner,” he said. “We’re doing spaghetti and meatballs. Is that okay?”
Grace nodded. Pasta, caviar, anthrax, whatever. She doubted she’d be able to get much down, assuming she could stay awake that long. The three-hour time change and a ten-plus hour trip, changing planes twice, had worn her out. Her head throbbed, thinking of everything she had to get done. The house needed work, and from what she’d seen outside, the rest of the ranch was worse. Pile on top of that a ten-year-old kid and Noah hovering next door, dredging up old memories and ripping old wounds wide open. It was too much. How would she handle it all?
“There’s one more thing, Gracie.” Noah’s tone, tentative and laced with angst, demanded her focus. “It’s about JJ. He’s taking things pretty hard.”
“His mother and the only father he’s ever known are dead,” she said, blinking away the tears she felt welling. She wouldn’t cry, not in front of him. “You think I don’t realize how much that is to deal with?”
“I know you understand that. It’s JJ you don’t understand. He’s not very good with change. I’ve tried to tell him who you are; you know, explain things. I’m not sure he gets why you’re here.”
Her stomach muscles squeezed. Just as she suspected, her father and Sheila hadn’t told JJ anything about her. It shouldn’t have mattered, shouldn’t have hurt. It did, but she wouldn’t admit it to Noah. She straightened her shoulders. “He’s ten. That’s old enough to understand.”
“Maybe for most kids his age. But JJ has his own way of seeing the world.” Noah walked to the sink. He looked out the window and studied the gray sky.
“It sounds like you’re trying to tell me something’s wrong with him.”
“Not wrong, just different.” Noah turned, and his eyes locked on hers. “JJ has autism.”
Chapter Three
She took the news better than he expected, though her eyes glossed over when Noah started in on the details of JJ’s condition—his social awkwardness, his difficulties with friends, his need for routine. His literal translation of practically everything. Noah wasn’t positive, but “high functioning” might have been the only words Grace had caught.
He finished his summary, the same one he’d used at least a dozen times to make sure JJ was allowed to stay with him until Grace got here, and waited for her response. Instead she dug through her largest suitcase like it required the concentration of a nuclear scientist.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said, slipping into a pair of maroon Converse. The girl still had spunk, he had to give her that.
“Do you, uh, have any questions first?” he asked.
“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, maybe. Later.” Confusion swirled in her eyes.
He mashed his lips together, willing himself to be patient. JJ’s condition was a lot to absorb. Still, it was her own damn fault it was a surprise. He took a deep breath. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
They walked out the back door and down the dirt path that led around the barn.
“So, you’ve been helping around here the last couple years,” Grace said.
Noah nodded.
“And you’re pretty close with JJ.”
“He’s a good kid.” Where was she going with this?
“What’s he like… I mean, what does he like? What sort of things? Interests, hobbies.”
“That’s easy. Animals. Two legs, four legs, no legs…”
Grace raised a brow.
“Snakes, whatever.”
Grace stuck out her tongue. “Ugh.”
Noah laughed. “And drawing. He loves to draw.”
“Drawing, really? He’s got a creative gene.”
“Guess it runs in the family. Maybe it’ll help you guys connect.”
She looked over at him, eyes wide. For a moment, he glimpsed that vulnerable girl who used to snuggle into him up in the barn loft during thunderstorms. A déjà vu urge to pull her in, comfort her, protect her, swept over him. He brushed it aside. She wasn’t the one who needed protecting now. “Don’t worry. He’ll like you,” Noah lied. He’d tried to talk to JJ about Gracie at least a half a dozen times. JJ had either melted down or shut down every single time.
“Of course he will,” she murmured, quickening her pace.
They found JJ behind the chicken coop, notepad in hand, watching the wild horses roam the hillside. He didn’t look up, but the closer they got, the more furiously he scribbled.
Noah raised his hand in a stop motion for Gracie to stay back a few feet. She wasn’t one to take orders, but she complied, letting him take the lead.
Noah squatted next to JJ. “Hey, buddy. Whatcha drawing?”
&nb
sp; JJ’s eyes remained glued to the notepad, his pencil scratching at the paper. “She’s here, just like you said, but I don’t want to meet her.” Scratch, scratch, scratch. “Daddy told me all about her.”
Noah glanced back and caught Gracie’s eye. He suspected his face mirrored the look of surprise on hers. He nudged the boy’s arm. “Come say hi, for me.”
JJ squirmed a few inches away. “I don’t wanna.”
“She came a long way to see you.”
JJ’s breathing quickened, and he squeezed the pencil, scribbling done. “I don’t need her. I have you.”
“Yes, you do.” For now. “And you trust me, right, buddy?”
JJ nodded without looking up.
“You’ll like her. She’s really nice.” At least, she used to be. And somewhere, down deep, was the Gracie he remembered. He’d seen a glimpse of that girl in the barn. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”
As JJ pushed to his feet, Noah felt a twang of regret in the middle of his chest. Was he lying to the kid? JJ was about to lose the last little nugget of the world he knew. When Gracie sold the ranch and took him back to New York, things might never be okay again.
…
He didn’t look disabled. JJ stood in front of Grace like a typical pre-teen boy, just really dirty—though maybe that was normal, too. She held her hand out to him. “Nice to meet you, JJ. I’m Grace.”
He kept his eyes focused on the weeds at his feet and didn’t move.
“Go ahead, bud,” Noah urged. “Shake her hand.”
Still nothing. Dear Lord, how would they ever get to know each other if he wouldn’t even say hi?
“Remember when I introduced you to your tutor, Ms. White?” Noah asked. “You didn’t want to meet her, either, and look how well you read now.”
JJ’s hand came up slowly to meet Grace’s. His eyes didn’t. Their fingers touched, barely, and he dropped his hand and began swaying on his feet. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. A soothing mechanism, perhaps.
Noah had explained that there was a range of diagnoses and symptoms with autism—a spectrum—and that JJ was on the upper end, whatever that meant. Did it matter? Her twisting gut told her what she already knew. Of course it did.
She’d scoured New York state for a decent boarding school, one she could afford once the ranch was sold. She’d visit as often as she could. It wasn’t a perfect plan, and a part of her still felt like she’d be dumping him off. But abandoning a special needs kid? That took a special kind of rotten.
She shook her head. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t raise a kid by herself in New York City. It wasn’t possible. Not with her schedule. Not with her life. Not with her utter lack of knowledge about raising a pre-teen boy.
At least selling the ranch would allow her to pay for JJ’s school, maybe even put some money aside for his future, in a trust or something. The ranch was run-down, but from Grace’s years of taking care of the bills and keeping her father organized, she knew it should be almost paid off by now.
“Noah tells me you like to draw,” she said.
JJ shrugged, still rocking.
“I’m an artist, too.”
He stopped moving.
“But I don’t draw,” she continued.
The rocking restarted, this time faster.
“I take photos.” She found herself subconsciously raising her voice and focused on keeping it steady and soft. “I’m a photographer.”
He stopped again. “You click a button. That’s not art.”
His words caused a wiggle in her chest. She’d gotten him to speak. Grace blew air from her lips. “Sure, it is. The lighting and the setting and the subject—that’s the thing you’re photographing—everything has to be just right. I have to figure out what type of film is best and which lens to use, just like you have to pick out which pencil, which color. Sometimes I go through five lenses in one shoot. It’s way more than just clicking a button.”
“I thought everyone used digital now,” Noah said, like he was actually interested in what she’d been saying. Was he playing along for JJ’s sake?
“Most do. I brought my digital camera with me here, for ease. But for our big jobs, Simon prefers film.”
Noah raised a brow.
“My boss. And so do I. Sharper images, better color.”
Maniacal obsession with details was only one reason Simon was one of the most sought-after photographers in the world.
Grace returned her focus to JJ, who hadn’t restarted the rocking thing. Think, Grace. What else? “I could show you sometime, if you want.”
His head popped up, and his bright blue eyes bubbled with excitement before focusing on a spot just past her shoulder. “You mean that?”
“Sure. Sometime this week. I promise.”
He nodded, still refusing to look her way, then ran past her. “Come on, Lucky,” he called over his shoulder. The scraggly dog scooted out from under a bush and ran after JJ.
“You handled that well. JJ doesn’t like new people.”
Grace turned toward Noah. Admiration and curiosity filled his face, along with something else she didn’t quite recognize around his eyes. Something sad.
“As much as I’d love to take full credit, he only considered talking to me because of you,” she said. “It’s obvious he adores you. So why were you helping my father?”
“The timing was right. He needed help with the animals, and I had some free time.”
He was holding something back. “I hope he paid you well,” Grace said.
Noah shoved his hands into his front jean pockets and ignored her comment. “JJ’s amazing, once he lets you in. He has this ability with animals—it’s like he can sense how they’re feeling, even the chickens.” He chuckled. A deep, rumbling laugh. Masculine. Sexy. The sound planted in her ribs and took root. She couldn’t remember the last time a laugh had affected her like that.
Yes, she could. Seven years ago.
Their eyes met. The dark blue of his held hers, then sucked her in, full of caring—for JJ, of course. Still, it took effort to pull her gaze away. She focused on the band of mustangs out in the distance. “My colleagues don’t believe I used to wake up to wild horses in my front yard.”
“JJ spends hours watching them. One in particular, Socks.” He pointed. “It’s that black one, over there by himself. The one with three white feet.”
“Socks. I like it.” She smiled. “Beautiful, aren’t they? Wild and free. Perfect.”
“Yes.” Something in his voice made her turn back to him; something she didn’t want to hear but couldn’t ignore. His eyes hadn’t left her.
He was so close, so still, standing right there. She could reach out, stroke his arm. How her Benedict Arnold fingertips ached to touch him, feel him, just one more time. Heat crawled up her neck. Get ahold of yourself, Grace. She couldn’t drop her guard. She shoved a renegade curl behind her ear and pushed at the dirt with her Converse. “We should probably get back, get dinner started.” Get her plan rolling. In and out, quick and easy.
She had to stay in control—and unattached. She wouldn’t let herself feel something for Noah again. That wasn’t her life anymore.
…
Colorfully-framed photos of JJ with his mom and Grace’s father sprinkled the living room. Her throat constricted like a garden hose left out in the hot sun. They looked happy in the photos, loving. They looked like a family. Any photos Grace had taken with her parents were probably buried in a box somewhere, faded and frayed.
“But where’s she gonna sleep?” JJ’s voice carried from the kitchen.
Grace hung back at the edge of the living room, listening.
“We talked about this, bud,” Noah answered. “When you helped me clean out the cottage. Gracie’s staying in her old room.”
“But who’s gonna help me with my homework? Who’s gonna tuck me in?”
The momentary silence dragged into forever. “I’ll still be around,” Noah said softly.
�
��For how long?” JJ hiccupped on a whimper.
Noah’s sigh traveled through the arched entryway. “For a few days. Gracie’s here now. She’s going to take care of you.”
“Only a few days?” The boy squeaked. “Then what?”
Grace clutched the doorframe. She couldn’t be the caretaker for a child; that’s why she needed the boarding school. They’d do a better job. She’d tried, years ago, to take care of her father—a grown man acting like a child—and failed. Instead of helping him, everything she did had seemed to push him deeper into the grimy bowels of his depression.
The only promise she’d made after that was to take care of herself. Just herself. If she screwed up her own life, she’d be hurting only one person—her.
She couldn’t let Noah set expectations she’d never meet. Get it over with, Grace. Tell them about the school. She pushed into the kitchen. But one look at JJ’s red face and tear-streaked cheeks, and she lost her nerve.
She’d set things straight later. Tomorrow, for sure. And they’d understand how it was all for the best.
“Noah called you Gracie,” JJ’s voice squeaked.
She leaned against the drab olive countertops. “And he’s the only one who does. He started when we were six, just to annoy me.” Grace smiled as she remembered the mud pies she’d thrown at Noah to get him to stop. He hadn’t. When she got older, she’d been glad.
Grace looked at Noah. His eyes questioned her, perhaps wondering what she was thinking. He nodded toward JJ. She read the cue—Noah was telling her this was an opening, a way to build a bridge to JJ. Alarms blared in her brain. Bridges were dangerous.
Noah lifted a brow, waiting. Expecting.
Fine, to settle JJ down. “You can call me Gracie, too, if you want.”
A slow smile spreading across damp cheeks rewarded her. “Gracie?”
