by Helen Lacey
Dylan’s eyes widened. “Did you get into trouble?”
“Big-time,” she replied. “For about ten seconds—until my mother realized how upset I was. She knew I didn’t mean it. Just like your grandmother will know you didn’t mean to forget you were supposed to watch Thomas. It just happened.”
He looked instantly relieved. “Do you think so?”
“For sure.”
Dylan managed a little smile. “Thanks, Grace—you’re the best.”
A strange tightness constricted through the middle of her chest and she took a deep breath. When she heard a movement from the doorway she snapped her neck around. Cameron stood at the threshold.
“You’re back?”
“Not for long,” he said and came into the room. “Pat wants the kids to go to the hospital.”
The blood leached from her face. “Is Thomas—”
“He’s fine,” Cameron assured her, and Dylan, who had jumped up in his chair. “No permanent damage. He’s awake and he wants to see Dylan and the girls. I said I’d drive them back into town and they’ll stay overnight at a motel. I’ll pick them up tomorrow.”
“I should get some things together for Isabel and tell Emily,” she said as she stood and pushed the chair out. “She’ll need to get Riley’s booster seat for your car.”
“That would be great. Come on, Dylan, let’s get you ready.” He went to turn, but then halted. “I should be back in a couple of hours.”
Grace watched as Dylan scooted from the room and followed Cameron up the hallway. She gathered some fresh clothes for Isabel and then helped her change into jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
Emily took some time gathering Riley’s things together and Grace helped pack his baby bag.
“I feel bad,” Emily said as she pulled on her jacket. “I’ve been wrapped up in taking care of Riley and studying. I haven’t spent much time hanging out with the rest of the kids.”
Grace patted the teenager’s arm. “You can only do what you can,” she said and picked up the bags. “Come on, your grandmother is waiting for you.”
She stayed by the front steps as Cameron organized everyone into his car and packed their small bags into the trunk. He waved goodbye and drove off.
And now I’m alone.
Well, not exactly. Jed had ambled from his spot on the veranda and followed her back inside. Strangely, she didn’t mind the company and allowed him to sit by her feet when she returned to the kitchen table. She shuffled the deck of cards and busied herself for a while with a game of solitaire. Once she was done Grace closed up the house and headed back to the cottage. She took a shower and the hot spray eased some of the tension tightening her shoulders. Now conscious of water shortages, she lingered for mere minutes, then changed into sweats and sat on the sofa in front of the television.
And quickly, like a runaway train, it hit her.
Thomas could have died.
For those few terrifying minutes she’d thought he wouldn’t make it.
Fear closed her throat over and Grace sucked in some much needed air. She clutched her arms over her chest. Her lids dropped heavily as a familiar chill rushed over her skin. I’m so cold. She remembered that feeling. She remembered the fear and the helplessness. She remembered thinking she was going to die. And she remembered Richard’s lifeless body, twisted and battered, beside her.
Jed groaned. She glanced at the dog. He pulled himself up, suddenly on alert. Grace quelled the unease narrowing through her blood. She heard a car door shut. Cameron. She got to her feet and rushed to greet him by the front door.
“He’s fine,” Cameron said as he walked across the threshold.
Grace clutched his arm. “Thank goodness.”
“I need to feed the horses and then I’ll hit the shower,” he said and ran a weary hand through his hair. “Give me half an hour.”
Grace released him and watched from the doorway as he walked back outside. The dwindling sun was all but gone when he returned to the cottage and headed for the bathroom. She fed the dog in the small mudroom and remained in the kitchen. Dinner would be pretty hit-or-miss, she realized when she opened the refrigerator. She pulled a couple of cans of soup from the cupboard and popped the contents into a saucepan to heat. Cameron came into the kitchen just as she had finished toasting thick slices of sourdough bread.
“You’ve been busy,” he said as he passed the counter and saw the bread and green salad she’d prepared.
“It’s not much,” she said, feeling faintly embarrassed.
In low-slung faded jeans, white T-shirt and bare feet, he looked sexy and tempting.
Grace’s skin warmed thinking about it and she turned back to her task.
“Do you need some help?” he asked and braced his hands on the edge of the counter.
She glanced sideways and avoided thinking about how his biceps flexed. “I’m good. So you said Thomas was doing well?”
“They want to keep him in for a couple of nights to be sure. But he’s awake and talking.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “Thanks to you.”
“I wasn’t alone,” he said and stole a cucumber slice from the salad bowl.
“I didn’t do much.”
He leaned forward and crossed his arms. “You were there, Grace. You helped me do what needed to be done. You kept him warm,” he reminded her. “And you comforted Dylan.”
Her eyes widened. “You heard that?”
“About how you dropped Mary-Jayne on the head?” He grinned. “I heard. Explains a lot.”
Grace laughed for probably the first time that day. And it felt good. “Poor M.J.,” she said and returned to stirring the soup. “I love her dearly, you know.”
“I think you have a great capacity for love, Grace,” he said quietly. “You just don’t show it.”
The spoon rattled in the saucepan and she turned fractionally, avoiding his brown eyes. “Too hard.”
“To admit you’re human?”
She felt his questioning stare in the small confines of the kitchen. “Human? Am I? I’ve been called a lot of things.”
“By me?” he prompted gently. “I guess that’s true. We’ve said a lot of things to one another over the years.”
“I deserved it,” she said and stirred the soup some more. “It’s not like it isn’t the truth. I know what I am. I know what people think of me.”
“And what’s that?”
“Oh, you know—that I’m a workaholic ice princess. Everyone has their place in a family, I guess. In mine, M.J. is the lovable one,” she said. “Evie’s the sensible one. And I’m the...smart one.”
“And beautiful.”
She shrugged and continued to stir.
“And talented in the kitchen. And good with kids.” He looked at Jed lolling by the back door. “And dogs.”
“Shocked even myself with that one,” she said and spooned soup into two bowls. “Who would have thought?”
He grabbed the bread and salad, followed her to the table and sat down.
“I’m not fooled, Grace.”
Grace slipped into a chair and looked at him. Really looked. Her heart—the same heart she’d tried hard to wrap in ice for so many years was suddenly pounding behind her ribs—and she was melting. The power he had over her—the power she’d denied because she was terrified of being vulnerable to him, of giving herself, of losing herself...suddenly that power made her want him even more.
She sighed out a breath. “Today I...I thought Thomas was going to die.”
“Me, too.”
“If he had...” The words caught, lingered, and then disappeared.
“But he didn’t. He’s safe. And so are you.”
She looked up, emotion clogging her throat. Had she truly f
elt safe since the accident? Almost losing Thomas had brought all those memories back to the surface. And yet, being in the kitchen with Cameron, she somehow didn’t have the usual emptiness in her heart.
“I feel safe now.”
* * *
Cameron stilled. There was something incredibly vulnerable about Grace in that moment. He wanted to race around the counter and haul her into his arms. But resistance lingered. He couldn’t be sure what she was feeling. And the idea of rejection suddenly waved like a red flag in front of him.
“I’m glad you feel safe with me.”
She shrugged lightly. They ate in silence, but the tension in the room was extreme. Once the food was consumed and the plates taken care of, Cameron made his way to the sofa in the living room. She followed and stood by the fireplace.
“Are you joining me?” he asked and sat down.
She hesitated. The modest lamp in the corner gave enough light to see the wariness in her expression. “I should...go.”
“Go where? To bed?” He checked his watch. “A little early for that, don’t you think?”
A sigh escaped her lips and he watched her perfectly bowed mouth for a moment. Like everything about her face it was a thing of pure beauty. “I just thought—”
“Safe with me one minute, afraid of me the next. What’s really going on with you, Grace?”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she replied.
“Then sit down.”
She took a few steps and dropped onto the sofa. “Okay, I’m sitting.”
“Good,” he said. “Now, talk.”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing to—”
“There is,” he said, cutting her off. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Maybe I’m just upset over what happened today. I’m not made of stone, you know. If that little boy had—”
“But he didn’t,” Cameron said. “And we’ve already established that you’re safe and sound here. So, talk to me,” he insisted and rested an arm on the back of the sofa.
“What about?”
“Whatever’s on your mind.”
“Nothing is,” she said and twisted her hands together.
Cameron pushed some more. “You could tell me about the crash and what happened that day.”
Her breath caught. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe you don’t want to. But I think you need to.”
“I have a shrink for that,” she said and crossed her arms. “I went to counseling. I talked about it in exhausting detail and six sessions later I’m...I’m here.”
“Here?”
“Home,” she said quickly. “Crystal Point.”
“I’ve never heard you call Crystal Point home before.”
She shrugged. “My therapist thought being here would be good for me. I’ve told you all this already.”
There was so much bite in her words Cameron knew she was holding back. “But you didn’t say why?”
“I was in a car wreck.”
“And your friend died?”
“Richard was a colleague,” she said in a whisper. “And again, I’ve told you what happened. We were driving out to meet with a client and the car ran off the road. Richard died and I survived.”
Cameron considered her words. “What happened then?” he asked and shifted to face her.
Her green eyes glittered. “We crashed and were trapped inside. That’s the whole story.”
Cameron wasn’t convinced. “And how long were you trapped inside?”
She looked at him and shook her head. Shutters came up and a second later she stood.
“Grace?”
She shook her head again and headed for the fireplace. Cameron watched, mesmerized and confused, and he quickly pulled together his thoughts. Silence stretched between them, fueling the growing tension in the room. When he finally stood and took a few steps toward her, she was holding her arms tightly around her waist. He said her name again.
“I can’t go back there,” she said quietly and kept facing away. “I can’t go back there with you.”
“Back where?”
She shuddered. “To the crash. To that time. I’m trying to forget, not remember. I’m trying to get those days out of my head and—”
“Days?” he asked, cutting off her words. “What do you mean? How long were you in that car, Grace?”
She turned and faced him, eyes shining. She looked lost and he fought the urge to haul her into his arms. “Two days,” she whispered.
Cameron stared at her. “You were trapped for two days? You and Richard?”
She nodded faintly. Very faintly. And Cameron’s curiosity and instincts surged. Pieces of the puzzle fell into place. He recognized fear and grief in her haunted expression. And he knew that look from the years of police work and of dealing with victims of trauma.
“Richard was dead, wasn’t he?”
“I said that already.”
Cameron pressed on. “I mean he was dead when the car crashed. And you were alive?”
She took a second. “Yes.”
“And there was nothing you could do for him, was there?”
Her lips trembled. “No.”
Realization quickly dawned. She’d spent two days trapped inside a wrecked car with a dead man. No sweet wonder she was as closed up as a vault. The walls she’d erected around herself, the shadow of unhappiness in her eyes, her reluctance to let her family know the truth—it made perfect sense. “Grace.” He said her name gently. “Has your counselor talked to you about post-traumatic stress disorder?”
She shuddered out a breath. “I’m not crazy.”
“Of course you’re not,” he said and took a step closer. “But when someone has an experience like you’ve had it’s quite normal for—”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she said, cutting him off. “And I don’t need analysis from your police officer’s handbook.”
Cameron took hold of her hand and urged her toward him. “Grace, I’m not analyzing you. I just wish you’d told me earlier.”
“Why?” she asked, but didn’t pull away. “So you can get inside my head and work me out?”
“So I could help you,” he said gently.
“I don’t need help. I’m not about to fall apart.”
“Maybe you should,” he suggested. “Maybe falling apart is exactly what you need.”
She didn’t move for a moment and uncertainty clouded her expression. Cameron remained still and waited. Her eyes filled with tears that slowly spilled over. Her skin looked pale in the lamplight. And she’d never seemed more beautiful. He wanted to soothe her, hold her, kiss her. But he checked himself.
“I can’t. I have to fight it. I have to fight...you.”
He touched her face. “No, you don’t. We’re not at war anymore.”
“You don’t understand—I need to stay strong,” she said. “It’s all I know.”
“There’s strength in admitting you’re scared, Grace,” he assured her and wiped the moisture from her cheek with his thumb. “And there can also be strength in tears. Resisting your grief and fear won’t help you move on from the crash. It will only magnify the guilt you feel because you survived.”
* * *
Grace choked back a sob. How could he know that? Months of guilt and anguish pressed between her shoulders. She dropped her head against his chest as his arms came around her.
“I was glad,” she admitted as emotion tightened her throat so much she could barely swallow. Grace forced more words out. “I was happy and I shouldn’t have been. I didn’t have the right to be happy...not when Richard was...was gone.”
Cameron stroked her back tenderly. “It would have been relief, Grace. And a perfectly rational reaction.”
She shook her head against him. “No. I was happy, really happy.” She shuddered as fresh tears burned her eyes. “We were trapped inside. I couldn’t get out of my seat. Richard was...he was next to me and I knew he wasn’t breathing and there was so much blood. But when I knew I was alive and not seriously hurt I started laughing hysterically and I couldn’t stop and it—”
“That’s not happiness, Grace,” he insisted. “It was relief, like I said. You went through a traumatic experience.” He grasped her chin, tilted her face and gently kissed her forehead. “You should be glad you survived. And thinking that doesn’t make you a bad person.”
More tears came, hard racking sobs that pushed up from deep inside her. She couldn’t stop them. The tighter he held her, the more emotion came to the surface. For months she’d kept it all inside. Even with her therapist she’d held back, afraid to fully let her feelings show. Now, like never before, she felt like telling him everything.
When Cameron led her back to the sofa and sat down she followed and settled beside him. Without a word he turned her toward his chest and rested one hand over her hip, while the other stayed firmly on her shoulder.
“Grace, what happened during those two days, when you were stuck in the car?”
She wiped tears off her cheeks and looked at him. “The client we were to see lived in an isolated place. There was poor phone reception so we didn’t know that the client was ill and had actually cancelled the meeting. Because of that, no one knew that we hadn’t arrived for our appointment. We weren’t reported missing until about thirty-six hours after the crash. It was Richard’s wife who reported us missing when he hadn’t called her the next day.”
“And?” he prompted.
She shuddered. “It was a deserted road and a small animal had rushed out in front of us. Once we crashed, the car flipped onto its side and I couldn’t open any of the doors to get out. And I couldn’t find my phone so there was no way to contact anyone or call 911. So, I waited and just hoped that wild animals or dehydration wouldn’t get me before I was found. And all that time Richard was...” She stopped and swallowed a heavy lump of emotion. “He was strapped in by the seatbelt and I was underneath. I couldn’t climb over him. I couldn’t do anything. And I kept thinking...why me? Why did I survive? If the car had landed a foot or so over, the passenger side would have hit the tree. But it didn’t. It crushed the driver’s side and the car rolled and it all happened so fast Richard didn’t stand a chance.” She sucked in a deep, painful breath. “He was a good man. His family grieved for him so much.”
