"Colton? Is there something you want to say?"
"Yes." But before he could say it, the door opened and the doctor walked in. He told Olivia that he would put a cast on her leg and that the pulmonologist wanted her to spend the night so they could keep an eye on her lungs and provide several breathing treatments over the next twelve to twenty-four hours.
Olivia tried to argue, but the doctor was firm, and Colton wasn't about to help her get out of the hospital. He wanted to be sure that she was completely fine before she walked out the door.
"I really hate this," Olivia told him when the doctor stepped out for a moment.
"I know, but it's only for a night. Do you want me to call anyone for you—your mom maybe?"
"No, I don't want to worry her. I'll talk to her tomorrow when I'm not in the hospital."
He brushed an errant strand of hair off of her face. "Olivia, I know I could pick a better time to say this. I'm sure the doctor will be back in any second."
"Then maybe you should speak quickly," she said with a smile. "Instead of all this rambling, which is so un-Colton-like. You're usually very confident."
He smiled back at her. "Not when it comes to something this important."
She groaned. "It's a good thing I'm in the hospital, because you're killing me."
"I've fallen for you, Olivia. I think it happened the first time I saw you when you literally knocked me off my feet."
Her smile lit up her eyes. "That was not my fault. You were checking your phone."
"And you were intensely curious about what was in your mystery box. Who knew it would all end up here?"
"Or what would happen along the way," she said quietly. "I've fallen for you, too, Colton. I just don't know what we're going to do about it."
"We're going to figure it out," he said, and this time he was confident. Because as long as he knew she felt the same way, he was going to make it happen.
The nurse came into the room and began setting up instruments for Olivia's cast.
Olivia gave him another smile. "You should go home, Colton."
"I don't want to leave you here alone. I can stay with you tonight."
"I'll be fine. I'm just going to be sleeping. I'm kind of exhausted. It's been a really long day. But if you want to pick me up in the morning…"
"I'll be here in the morning." He leaned over and gave her a loving kiss. "Don’t get into any more trouble without me."
"I won't," she said with a smile. "I'll miss you tonight."
"I'll miss you, too, babe."
* * *
Olivia slept through the night, exhaustion and pain medication sending her into a dreamless sleep. While the cast was uncomfortable, and she still had an ache in her leg, when she woke up a little before eight o'clock in the morning, she felt quite a bit better. She nibbled on some food the nurse brought her, wondering when she'd see Colton again. She hoped the pain medication hadn't made her imagine things, and that he had in fact told her he was falling in love with her, because she was definitely falling in love with him.
The man had literally walked through fire for her. His courage and strength were amazing. But those weren't the only traits that made her like him. She appreciated his loyalty to family and friends, the way he protected the people he cared about, and his ability to be completely honest and up front. He didn't play games.
She smiled to herself. That wasn't exactly true, but the games he did play she liked very much. She found her cheeks warming at the memories of being in bed with him. It seemed like a long time ago. And a part of her wished she hadn't sent him home last night, but he'd been as tired as she was, and she couldn't stand the thought of him trying to catch a nap while sitting up in the hard, uncomfortable chair next to her hospital bed.
Glancing at the clock, she felt impatient and restless. The nurse had told her that the doctor probably wouldn't be in to discharge her until ten, so she had two hours to kill. Impulsively, she pressed her call button. When the nurse appeared, she asked if she could be taken upstairs to see her grandmother. The nurse said she didn't see why not, and a few moments later, Olivia was wheeled into her grandmother's room.
Molly looked smaller, thinner, paler…She was clearly slipping away, if she wasn't already gone.
Olivia stared at her grandmother for a long time, wanting to soak up what might be the last few minutes she ever had with her. She wheeled her chair a little closer to the bed and put her hand over Molly's.
"I don't know if you can hear me or feel my touch," she said. "But it's me, Olivia. I know now that you wrote to me for a reason. I think you wanted to meet me, and you wanted me to meet you. Maybe at some point you would have told me the whole story and revealed our true relationship, or maybe not. I just wish we'd had the chance to speak to each other. I wish I could hear your voice, see your eyes—the eyes that people say look just like mine."
Sorrow filled her at a loss she'd never expected to feel.
"It's not fair that we should have come so close and not been allowed to connect," she continued. "But if this is all we get, then I'm going to take it." She swallowed hard and pushed through the heavy weight of emotion as she thought about what she wanted to say.
"I want you to know that I've had a good life. My parents were wonderful people. I have no complaints about where I grew up. Francine wanted the best for me, and I got it. So thanks to her, I had a good childhood, probably a better childhood than Francine had."
She squeezed Molly's fingers. "I know what you went through. I've been piecing together your story, and I have it pretty straight now. I don't know if you really wanted me to tell it, or if you just wanted me to hear it." She thought about that for another moment, then said, "But I know what I want to do now. And while I still hold out hope that you'll open your eyes and say hello to me, even if you don't, I'm going to do right by you. I promise you that."
She let out a sigh. "I wish you could hear me, Molly. I wish you could feel the connection between us, the love I have for you. I know that sounds strange, because we've never met, but I do love you. And I'll never forget you."
As a tear dripped out of her eye, she felt Molly's fingers move beneath hers. She started, looking at Molly's face. There was absolutely no movement there, and now her fingers weren't moving either. Had she imagined it?
"You're back again," a male voice said with resignation.
She didn't have to turn around to know it was Peter.
He moved around to the other side of the bed. "So I hear you narrowly escaped getting burned to death in my mother's house."
"You could try to sound a little happier about my escape," she retorted.
"I've been at the police station and at my mother's house for most of the night, so I'm a little tired."
He did look exhausted. There were dark shadows under his eyes. "I guess you know what happened."
"I know enough." His gaze moved to his mother and then back to her. "Those pictures you showed me yesterday; they were horrible."
She nodded. "Yes, they were."
"Her bruises were a lot worse than I remembered. I told myself for a long time that it wasn't that bad. My father could get mad, but he could be a good guy—sometimes—once in a while." He paused for a long moment. "I was lying to myself. I didn't want to have a father who beat his wife. After he died, it was easier to pretend that the fire was just an accident, that everything that had happened before didn't matter anymore."
"You were a child," she said gently. "You tried to protect yourself the only way you knew how. But you're not a child anymore."
"No, I'm older than my father was when he died. I wish I could tell my mother that I was sorry for downplaying what she went through, for blaming her for what happened to Francine. In many ways I treated my mother with the same disdain my father once did. I wish I could go back and change it all, but I can't."
"Oh, my God," Olivia murmured, distracted by Molly once again.
"What?" Peter asked.
"Her fingers a
re moving." She lifted her gaze to his. "You have to feel this."
He reached across the bed and put his hand on his mother's wrist as Molly moved her fingers. The action was unmistakable this time.
"Mom," he said. "I'm here with you. And…" He looked at Olivia. "And I'm with Francine's daughter. We need you to come back to us."
Olivia held her breath as Molly's eyelids began to flicker and then finally her eyes opened, and Olivia was looking at eyes as green as hers.
"Mom," Peter said with excitement. "You're awake. I can't believe you're awake." He looked back at Olivia. "Can you get the nurse? I don't want to leave her."
She reluctantly let go of Molly's hand long enough to wheel herself into the hall and motion for the nurse to come. "She woke up," she said, still not sure she could believe it was true.
But it was true and thirty minutes later after being examined by two doctors, Molly's breathing tube was removed and she was breathing on her own again. Her eyes were also open and aware, although she had yet to speak, and the doctor had told them all to go slow, that her speech and brain might need time to recover.
As the doctor left the room, Peter and Olivia moved back to the bed, this time side-by-side.
"Hello, Molly," she said quietly. "I'm Olivia, your granddaughter."
"Olivia," Molly's response was hoarse but clear.
"Don't try to talk, Mom," Peter said quickly, putting his hand on his mother's arm. "We've got time. Olivia isn't going anywhere." He looked back at her. "Are you?"
"Not anytime soon."
Molly's eyes fluttered closed, and Olivia wondered if they'd already lost her again, but the nurse who had been hovering nearby said, "It's okay. She's just sleeping."
"But she's going to wake up again, right?" Olivia asked.
"I think so," the nurse said.
"I think so, too," Peter said confidently.
"What's going on?" Colton asked, as he entered the room.
"Molly woke up, Colton. She looked right at me and said my name."
"That's great," he said with surprise in his eyes.
"My eyes are just like hers."
He gave her a smile. "That's what my grandmother said."
"We have to tell your grandmother that Molly woke up."
"We will."
Olivia looked back at Peter, who was quietly watching their exchange. "I know you don't like me, but do you think we could call a truce, at least when we're with your mother? I don't know how much time we'll have with her, but I don't want to waste it in tension and anger."
"I agree," he said.
"Good."
"I'm going to make a call," Peter said.
As Peter left, she turned back to Colton. "It feels like a miracle just happened."
He nodded. "It does feel that way. I know you're convinced that you're Molly's granddaughter, but I want you to know that I just spoke to Shayla, and the DNA test confirms that fact."
"I knew it would. From the first minute I read Molly's letter to me, I felt an irresistible pull to her. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I knew I had to come to San Francisco."
"I'm certainly glad you did."
"Have you spoken to your grandparents again?"
"No, but I will—soon. Are you ready to get out of here?"
"I'd like to stay with Molly for a while. I hate to leave her now that I've met her."
"Then I'll stay with you," he said, pulling over a chair so he could sit next to her.
She smiled, her heart overflowing with love for him. "You're a good man, Colton Callaway."
"I am, and when we eventually get out of here and get away from our family problems, I'm going to show you just how good I can be."
Her nerves tingled at his words. "I'm going to hold you to that."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next day the Callaway family gathered in the lounge at the Sunset Senior Center just after five o'clock on Friday. Seated on the couches were Eleanor and Patrick Callaway along with Eleanor's friends Ginnie, Constance and Tom. Peter Harper and the rest of the Callaway family were sitting in chairs brought over from the card tables.
Peter looked awkward and uncomfortable, Olivia thought, but she was beginning to think that was just his natural demeanor. He'd obviously put up a wall a very long time ago, probably when he was a small child and had begun to witness the violence between his mother and father. She didn't know if they would ever be close or even friends, but in the past twenty-four hours they'd managed to keep a quiet truce between them, and on a few occasions he'd even let something positive slip about Francine. With Olivia's presence, he was starting to remember some of the good times that had come before Francine's tragic death.
As Olivia looked around the room, she felt as if the whole scene was somewhat surreal. A week ago the family had been celebrating Eleanor's birthday in this very same room, and she'd just arrived in San Francisco, eager to meet a group of women who could possibly jumpstart her writing career.
But how quickly her goals had moved beyond a book and had turned toward unraveling an old mystery, and a series of secrets that had made her the center of a story she had never expected to hear.
"Ready?" Colton murmured, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.
She shivered a little as his breath grazed her cheek. Colton had been another unexpected but wonderful surprise. "I think so," she said. She and Colton were sitting on the couch next to Eleanor and Patrick and while she had an idea about what his grandparents might say, she wasn't completely sure. Colton had tried to speak to his grandparents several times the day before, but Patrick had always cut him off, saying they would talk when they were ready. Apparently, they were ready.
She slipped her hand into Colton's, knowing he was feeling stressed about what might come, but the truth needed to be told, no matter how difficult it would be for everyone to hear it.
Glancing over at the elderly couple, Olivia saw that Eleanor and Patrick were also holding hands. They'd been together more than sixty years. Theirs was an amazing love story. She couldn't help but hope she'd have that same story to tell sixty years from now.
Eleanor gave her a steady smile, her bright blue eyes alert, with the light of battle clearly evident. She was definitely ready to speak, and Olivia smiled back at her encouragingly.
Patrick cleared his throat. "Thank you all for coming. I wasn't going to do this here, because I thought it was a family matter, but Eleanor insists that you are all family, especially when it comes to what happened a very long time ago—to Molly and her husband." His gaze drifted to Peter. "And her children," he added.
Peter inclined his head in acknowledgment.
As Patrick paused, Olivia saw Ginnie and Constance exchange a look. She couldn't help wondering what the others in the theater group had known. Perhaps the secret hadn't been as well kept as everyone thought.
Patrick looked at Eleanor. "Shall I do the honors?"
"No, I want to tell the story, Patrick, because I know what Molly would want me to say. First, before I go back to the very distant past, I want you all to know that I spoke to Molly yesterday. She's doing a lot better. She's going to need some help getting full control over her speech and some of her movements, but she's very aware and alert and quite happy to have her long-lost granddaughter here in San Francisco." She smiled again at Olivia. "None of us had any idea that you were Molly's granddaughter when she told us about a writer she wanted to invite to hear our story. Now, it makes perfect sense.
Eleanor looked back at the group. "I told Molly yesterday that I was going to tell the truth about what happened to her husband Stan. It was a secret that we kept for forty years, not just to protect ourselves, but also to protect Molly's children." Eleanor took a deep breath and lifted her chin as if she were about to go into battle, and perhaps she was.
"Molly was very much in love with her husband, but Stan had a terrible temper, and he drank too much," Eleanor said. "When he drank, he got violent, and his target was alway
s Molly. She tried to do everything she could to prevent him from going into a rage, but her efforts were rarely good enough. Some of you may wonder why Molly stayed with Stan. Her parents had died when she was a teenager. She was left to live with an uncaring aunt. She felt very alone in the world, and when she fell in love with Stan and had her children, she felt like she had a family again, and she didn't want to break that family up."
Eleanor moistened her lips with her tongue, her gaze moving to Peter. "Molly told me that one day she saw Stan grab Peter and shove him against the wall and that she knew then she was going to have to do something, because she couldn't let him hurt her children. She started sending the kids to sleepovers on the weekends when Stan was more likely to be drinking. She tried contacting the police at a station where her husband didn't work, but the man she spoke to, Keith Fletcher, was unwilling to help her."
"After one particularly violent night, Molly asked me to photograph her bruises. She wanted to have proof of what Stan was doing to her, so the next time she went back she would have evidence. Unfortunately, before she could do that, Stan came home in a rage one night. Molly was making Stan a special dinner. He'd been in a bad mood all week, and she wanted to do everything right. She probably had every burner on the stove turned on as she was making all his favorites. She was trying so hard to please him."
Eleanor's voice turned grim. "But Stan came home early and drunk. Dinner wasn't ready, and he was furious. He started hitting Molly. I happened to call during the attack, and she managed to get to the phone. She had barely said my name when he disconnected the call. I knew she was in trouble. Patrick wasn't home from work yet, and I thought about calling the police, but after what they'd told Molly, I didn't think I could wait for them to come."
"What did you do, Grandma?" Emma asked as Eleanor paused to take a sip of water.
"I ran down to Molly's house and barreled into the kitchen. Molly screamed at me to get the kids out. She was bleeding badly from her nose, and one eye was already swelling. Stan had a bottle in his hand, and I was pretty sure he was about to hit her over the head with it. I didn't know what to do. Molly yelled at me again to get the kids. So I ran up the stairs."
When Shadows Fall (Callaways #7) Page 26
