“Rest, then. I’ll be back in a little while with some food for you.”
He grabbed for her hand when she turned to leave. “Wait!” His voice barely rose above a whisper. “Wait. I want, I—thank you—I want you to know that—” His voice trailed off and his shoulders began to shake.
Grace sighed and grabbed a straight chair and pulled it close. What had caused him to lose control like this? She hadn’t been able to cry about anything in two years, despite all she’d gone through. She might have wanted to, but she’d dammed tears behind her lids, where they belonged. Weren’t men the bastions of stoicism? Jonathan had never shed a tear that she recalled. Certainly her father never had.
She gently dislodged her hand from Ted’s convulsive grasp. Her legs itched to run again; right now she’d like nothing better than to run from this little family with their strange problems. Everything had happened so fast. She wanted to be left alone to build relationships for herself at her own pace. Excuses drizzled through her mind—all the reasons she should leave Michigan and go somewhere—anywhere else. Somewhere safe.
This house had been too good a deal. She moved too quickly to purchase it. She hadn’t explored the neighborhood enough. The real estate agent misled her when she said the brothers next door wouldn’t bother her. How wrong she had been. They both bothered her in different ways. She wasn’t a mother any more, not a wife, not a professional anything. Why did they have to ask her and ask her and keep asking her to do things for them? Couldn’t Ted see that she was as tired as he was?
He gasped and brought his knee up, clutching his calf.
“What do you need? What can I get for you?”
“No-nothing. Just a—spas-m. It’ll—pass. Wait.”
He gulped in air and sweat ran down his temple. She felt as helpless as she did watching a patient in labor. Not much she could do until it was time to push. Michigan? Why had God brought her to Michigan?
Grace had not counted on there being an Eddy and a Ted. The Ted who now wriggled like a fish out of water on her own bed and whose tears wet her pillow.
She breathed in and out, setting a calming tempo and urging him to follow. He slowly relaxed then sighed and turned over to look at her with eyes that gleamed in the dim lighting. “Jilly left me after the accident when the sickness started.”
He swallowed, the noise exaggerated in the dimly lit room. “The first seizure, she freaked. By the third one, she was gone. Didn’t even take Eddy. He was only a year old. What was I supposed to do?”
He was really laying it on thick, feeling sorry for himself again.
“Eddy’s been through too much for a little kid. All he’ll remember when he grows up is that he never had a mom and his dad got sick and died.”
Grace blinked at her internal burst of sarcasm and squashed her emotions into the pit of professionalism. Whatever his diagnosis, he had regained strength since she first met him. Until today, that is.
Normal life…no professional or otherwise mix of life and business. That’s what she’d craved with every cell of her person. She’d been so raw upon arrival, the wound barely scabbed over from her own losses, that she could not reach out to anyone else. That God would need her, demand that she use her gifts so soon had been repulsive, a hurt beyond deep. Another betrayal that sent her reeling.
That caring piece of herself was buried with Sean and Jonathan in Woodside. She had nothing left to give; no desire to, for that matter.
But the gift, had she left it there, too? Was it time?
No…not tonight. If ever.
“What are you talking about? You’re so much better. What happened to bring this on? You and Eddy—you’re both doing fine. Who says you’re going to die?”
Silence. Sniff.
“Other than we’re all going sometime.” Trying to coax him out of his mood, she said, “Come on. You must have had a bad day. Rest, and I’ll bring you something to eat.”
Ted closed his eyes. “It’s not right I tell you my problems,” he allowed. “I hardly know anything about you. And you’re right—no one’s actually told me that yet.”
He lay back and rubbed the prominent scar at his temple. “The seizures stopped six months after the accident, but then I started losing control of my muscles. It’s a good thing Jilly wasn’t here for that. We were in pretty rough shape for a while.” He scrubbed at his cheeks, grasping again at her hand. “Half the time I don’t know if I’m getting better or worse. Stay a little longer, please? Eddy will be okay. I never asked you before. Do you have any family?”
Grace snatched her hand away and jumped up. “I’ll let you rest now. You’ll feel better soon, I’m sure.”
Ted grabbed at her hip as she turned in the tight space and reached for her wrist to pull her close with a surprising surge of strength.
Grace resisted the urge to fight him. She held her breath, not wanting Eddy to hear anything. She had to strain to listen to Ted’s soft croon.
“You’ve been so good to me and to Eddy. Why?”
She let him stroke the hair at her temple. She closed her eyes. So long…so long it had been since anyone had touched her like this. She felt his fingers move across her cheek to trace the corner of her mouth, letting the tingle turn into a shiver of desire. She reached for his hair, letting her fingers weave through it.
“Can I make love to you?”
For the first time since she put him to bed, she felt a reluctant smile cross her stiff lips, the desire dashed with cold water, reason returned. Eddy was right behind that door, probably wondering what was taking so long. Good heavens. She pulled away, put her hands on her hips, and looked down at him. “You wish.”
Chapter Eight
The smell of buttered toast and something steaming, sweet and delicious-smelling, roused Ted from his drowse. She must have left it only moments ago on the chair by the bed. The thought of her seeing him vulnerable in sleep sent prickles up his arms. The tea he recognized as her special blend. A few sips revived him and after a while he was able to stand straight without tipping. He used the bathroom and splashed water on his face, scrubbing at the tear tracks on his cheeks, embarrassed, remembering his near break down in front of her. He would have sneaked quietly out the door without seeing or speaking to her, but there was Eddy to think of.
Fact was, he had no idea how to act like a single man in front of a single woman to whom he was attracted. Three years since Jilly left. Five years of marriage before that, and one tumultuous year of living together before deciding for sure that they wanted to marry and live happily ever after.
Not so happily ever after, after all. Four long years of being sick and struggling to raise his son as best he could all on his own left little time to think of anything other than figuring out what was wrong with him. Randy helped, or he wouldn’t have been able to do it. But Eddy deserved a mother who could adore him. Someone like Grace.
Ted moved as quietly as possible down the hall past Eddy’s former bedroom. He glanced through the door into the empty space, forlorn in the baleful glow of the yard light shining through the window. No boxes, no stuff people usually had. Who was Grace? Was it true she’d come here with nothing but the clothes on her back and enough cash to plunk down for the house? He wouldn’t have sold, but for Jilly’s demands.
He lumbered up to the entrance of the living room and stopped short. A hand over his heart checked to be sure it still beat.
Grace had Eddy cuddled close as they snuggled on the sofa. She stroked his head while they looked at a book. Her hair reflected the lamplight and silver filigree earrings lay across the hollow of her cheek in the place he longed to rub his thumbs. His fingers twitched in memory of the feel of her skin. Funny he didn’t recall touching her before, although they must have. That strange tingle, like they said was supposed to happen when there was some sort of electric attraction… Had she felt it, too? But it was the expression on Grace’s face, though, that made him take in a breath and hold it until he got dizzy.
&nb
sp; He recalled the incredible pain after the crash while he lay on the side of the road on the ice and nuggets of windshield with his head gashed open, of not being able to call out to know if Jilly was alive. He added that to his wife’s betrayal of the family orchards, of her running out on them when he first got sick.
Together, it did not match the suffering emanating from the entire being of Grace Runyon.
His selfishness made him turn his head in disgust. He knew almost nothing about her—just instinctively that she was good for his son and that she made this house into the home Jilly never had. The pain—what would cause her that amount of grief? He could simply ask her. Were they ready for that level of intimacy?
He turned back. She was watching him now, detachment in her expression. Her expression of a moment earlier might have been a figment of his imagination. Relief. Yes, what he had seen, a nano-second was all, really, had simply been leftover dream. There wasn’t much they could bring up in front of Eddy.
“Hi,” she said, her voice softer than the one she had used on him earlier.
Eddy slapped the book shut. “We had dinner, Dad. I helped. Do you want some?”
Ted stepped forward. “Sure, kiddo, that would be fantastic.” He watched his boy trundle out to the kitchen, pull a chair up to the counter, and laboriously ladle up some casserole into a bowl.
Heat prickled along his scalp as he recalled his question after she had helped him lie down and watched him cry over—what? Getting that stupid letter from Jilly had been the last straw to a really lousy day. He’d turned into a little boy looking for his mommy instead of an adult propositioning a woman he desired.
What had he wanted from her, anyway? Despite his jerk-wad question, he hadn’t been drooling with lust. He’d been desperate for the touch of her hand. Touch—just touch, was all. He could not remember anyone besides Eddy who touched him out of need, or desire. That tingle on his skin, right before the spasm…when she’d lifted his legs onto the bed, she’d touched him and the warmth made him feel like pulling her into his arms right then and there.
Eddy carried a bowl into the room, holding it with both hands and walking with exaggerated care. Ted sat down next to Grace first and then took the bowl from his son. “Something smells powerfully delicious. I’ll have to start calling you Chef Eddy.”
Eddy’s grin erased his discomfort.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Grace’s stare. She reminded him of the physical therapist, not letting him get away with anything less than acute discomfort as she worked him like a demon.
“You look a little better,” Grace now said, unnecessarily, in his opinion.
He hid his grimace by leaning his face over the dish and inhaling. He patted the stool in front of him and Eddy sat down anxiously to watch his reaction to the creation of lean burger, green beans, carrots and potatoes. Ted gestured generously in big circles with his spoon, making a sloppy grin, which threw Eds into fits of giggles.
“I peeled the carrots. Grace showed me how,” he announced. When the entertainment of watching his daddy eat wore off, he wandered away.
Grace did not move, even when he leaned into her personal space. Over the casserole, delicate scents he associated with her mingled and seeped into his brain. Mint from her tea, aloe that seemed to come from her pores, and lemon in her hair. She held herself very still, watching him. He gobbled the food, hunger not a lie, before he spoke to her.
“This is really delicious. Could you share the recipe with us? Anything Eddy likes, I say, is a go.”
Grace’s pewter eyes flashed in the light. “Grandmother Eames would thank ya,” she said in a molten twang that seemed to fit both her personality and the evening, “but would nevva consent to sharing a fam’ly re’cip.”
She smiled. “’Sides, I have a hard time following a recipe for food.” She dropped the hill speak. “To me, food begs for experimenting. Hence, you will never be served the same thing twice at this establishment.”
Ted set the bowl aside and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Grace, can we talk?”
She curled up and faced him. “Sure. Will it change anything?”
“We’ve been pretty good about avoiding the things that really matter, haven’t we?”
“Oh, I don’t know. What really matters to you, Ted?”
He hadn’t expected this turn of the conversation and felt like he’d lost control. Maybe he’d never had any. Which way next? Left or right? Up or down? “What else is there to care about, besides my son?”
Her lips pursed. “That’s a start,” she said after a couple of seconds.
Eddy came in with a plastic bug jar in his hands. “Can I go out and catch fireflies?”
Ted wasn’t sure to whom the request was made. He looked at Grace first before nodding to him. “Sure, Eddy. Stay away from the road like always, though, okay?”
Pounding feet. He was out the door. Slam! Ted watched Grace wince at the second bounce of the screen door. “Sorry. I keep reminding him not to let go of the door.”
“So do I.”
He reached out to touch her arm. She flinched at his sudden contact and moved away to pick up his bowl.
Okay…don’t surprise the woman. But he wasn’t finished with the conversation. “Grace—wait. Leave the dish. I’ll wash them for you later. It’s the least I can do to say thank you for—for all you’ve done for us.”
He studied her hesitation, needing to convince her, to apologize for his earlier behavior. “I’m harmless. Really.”
He settled back, indicating the nearly useless leg, trying his most charming smile, feeling a betraying tremble start along the side of his arm. “As long as you can run faster than I can, you don’t have anything to worry about, right?”
She did not help him out with a response, but curled herself on the sofa, restless and ready to run at a scent of distress.
“About that—before, what I said, you know.” He looked down at the floor. “Um, I’m sorry.” He glanced at her face again. “I don’t usually go around propositioning women.”
Silence.
“I had a long day. Then there was a letter from my ex-wife, complaining about everything past and present. She didn’t even ask about her own child. I guess I stressed and let myself get worked up about things.”
She inclined her head, untangled her legs, and stood.
How to make her stay? “You’re not exactly what I expected, you know,” he told her, changing tack.
She slowly sat back down at that. “Oh? You were expecting something in particular?”
“Well.” He raised an eyebrow. “The agent said a widow was interested in the place.” He touched his chest. “I naturally pictured a little old blue-haired lady with pearls.”
Grace laughed then, sending relief washing over him. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Not at all. You’re forgiven.” Ted felt a tiny triumphant shiver. “Am I?”
Their mutual stare intensified and she began to skitter away, nervous as a kitten. “Y-yes. Of course. Just don’t—don’t let it happen again.”
He reached to soothe her forearm, but sprang back when a spark leapt through the air. “Wow! It must be dry in here. That usually doesn’t happen until winter. Grace? I saw, before, when I came in here before…” He wanted to curse his clumsiness. He didn’t know how long her husband had been dead or how much she mourned him. Stupid! Slow down!
“I mean, the look on your face. It was so-so—well, sad, maybe, hurt about something? I, Eddy and I, that is, we don’t want you to feel sad. If this isn’t working out—”
“No! Don’t! Wait, Ted. You don’t understand.” When she pulled away he let her go. “I want—excuse me. I’ll be right back, okay? Just give me a second.”
She snatched up the dish and hurried to the kitchen, splashing it into the sink full of sudsy water. She clung to the edge of the counter, swaying.
Ted watched her through the wide passage. Should he go after her?
She brought two c
ups of coffee five minutes later. He reminded himself that he should no longer feel comfortable here, that his house belonged to a stranger now. Somehow Grace had changed everything. He felt more peace than he had ever known. It was a restless peace full of promise. Ted couldn’t put a definitive answer on what the promise might hold but he knew he’d be content with whatever happened.
He followed her change of conversation, never once hinting at anything more personal than grocery shopping and open house at school. He took that memory home with him, the despair and longing on her face as she turned the pages for his son.
Chapter Nine
With Eddy comfortable in Kindergarten at Wind Point School four long days a week, Grace crossed off the aimless march of her days on the calendar. Eddy was thoroughly in love with Miss Jones, the pretty teacher in her second year in East Bay. When Ted had not stopped smiling all the way home from the first Open House, she’d felt mildly jealous. It was something she was not proud of. She needed to stick to her resolve not to become too involved with the neighbors. Even if they spent every afternoon at her house.
The time had come to think seriously about a job. Not the gas station, not the school. The library was as staffed as they could afford. Not the café. Not the resale shop. Maybe some volunteer work. Not PTA, though. That would really fuel the fires of gossip. Her fingers tingled.
She sighed. She was fully and properly trained. Everyone wore gloves these days. Maybe it would work. But…how? Who did she talk to, without raising too many eyebrows?
The next afternoon she went to spend some time with Shelby who was more bored than she was.
“Your husband is a doctor, right?” Grace asked. “But not here in town.”
“Davy’s at Bay Bridge. He’s an endocrinologist. It’s not far from here, so Greg sends patients there who need more than he and Matty can offer.”
“Matty? Greg?”
“Oh, you probably haven’t had any need to go to the clinic,” Shelby said. “Greg Evans is our local GP. If you can believe it, we only have one doctor in town, but at least he’s full time. East Bay’s one and only clinic.” She pulled her afghan around herself again. “Hey, come to think of it, Davy was talking about Greg’s search for help again. Everyone hates waiting in line so long, but we’ve never been able to bring in another GP.” Her voice lowered. “Everyone specializes these days. More money, you know.”
Healing Grace Page 7
