Every Chance I Get

by Altonya Washington

  Baron hooked his thumbs around his suspenders. “Cunning,” he noted.

  “More like stupid,” Cafrey argued.

  “Are things still in such a state between the two of you that you can’t be truthful with her, boy?” Baron asked.

  “That’s not it.” Talib groaned into his hands. “Truthful is all I’ve been lately, finally.”

  Baron and Cafrey exchanged looks.

  “I just need more time with her and I knew that’d be tricky in New York. Besides—” he waved toward them “—I wanted her to meet you both. I knew she’d want to, especially after what I told her…about Mum.”

  Again, the brothers glances met and their hearts softened towards their nephew.

  “I knew that couldn’t have been an easy story to tell.” Cafrey walked over to rub Talib’s back.

  Talib didn’t mind letting his uncles see the lost expression he couldn’t hide. “You’ve got no idea.”

  “So what’s the plan, then, chap?” Baron asked. “You’ve told her of your parents, she’ll be meeting more of the family during her stay. What are you hoping to accomplish?”

  Talib massaged his neck and walked to the den. “She thinks she was beneath me and I…I think she may have always felt that way, long before things got ugly between us. I guess I made it worse then. Now I only want her to see that it was never about her not being good enough. It was about a lot of my other personal issues, but not that. Never that.”

  Chapter 17

  “After all these years don’t you think it’s time you both tone down with that stuff?”

  “All women like to be pampered, squirt. You young chaps could learn a thing or two.”

  Talib had been playfully scolding his uncles over their pampering methods while they enjoyed breakfast the next morning.

  “It’s not just us young chaps. The two of you make it impossible for any mortal man to live up to.”

  Baron and Cafrey exchanged mock toasts with their coffee mugs.

  “Misha will expect this sort of treatment every day from here on out.”

  “Well, she should,” Baron argued. “Women are to be treasured, tended to as properly as they tend to us.”

  “We men benefit from the care they give us. Why shouldn’t we return the favor?” Cafrey challenged.

  Talib grinned and helped himself to another spoonful of the smooth porridge laced with Serena’s special blend of cream, honey and sugar. “With that sort of mission statement, you two should be old married men by now.”

  Cafrey shrugged. “It’d be selfish of Barry and I not to drench such good care on as many women as we can.”

  More laughter filled the dining room and was just silencing when Serena walked through the doorway. She was wringing her hands.

  “Porridge is good as always, Serena,” Talib commended.

  “Thank you, love,” Serena walked over to pat the back of Talib’s head. “I went up to take a tray to Misha. She was still sleeping.”

  “Good. She needs it,” Baron said. “I can only imagine how worn out she is.”

  “I went to tuck in the covers. She was burning hot when I touched her forehead.”

  Serena’s words drew the men’s full attention.

  “I tried not to overreact—” Serena quieted when Talib dropped his spoon and rushed from the dining room. She turned to Baron and Cafrey. “I thought perhaps a second opinion might be best before we called Doc McCallum.”

  Moments later, all three of them were following the path Talib had blazed.

  When they arrived on the second floor, they found Talib standing just inside the bedroom doorway. He appeared uncertain, or was just plain unable to move any farther.

  Cafrey smoothed a hand across his nephew’s back and felt the young man jerk. He moved beyond the doorway with Baron right behind him.

  “Call the doctor,” Baron hissed to Serena once he and Cafrey had pressed the backs of their hands to Misha’s face and neck.

  “She’s definitely taken a fever,” Baron said.

  “Jesus.” Talib moved into the room finally and sought refuge in the nearest chair. Fists balled against his mouth, his dark eyes were narrowed and filled with anger against himself.

  “Talib, son, this wasn’t—”

  “Don’t, Uncle Caf.” He slanted the men a terrible glare. “We all know that’s a lie.”

  The brothers left Talib alone in the room shortly afterward to go wait for the doctor’s arrival. Talib watched over Misha. His mind, though, was riveted on the scene six years earlier, with her lying in a similar fashion and there not being a damn thing he could do about it. And just like six years before, he was once again to blame.

  Doctor Rory McCallum ran his quaint but lucrative practice from his home just inside the Winchester town limits. He only made outside house calls to a select few patients and the Mason brothers were a couple of them.

  “She’s a tiny one,” Rory whispered while tucking the covers about Misha after he’d completed the exam. “It’s a wonder the lad hasn’t crushed her,” he said jokingly in reference to Talib.

  “How is she, Rory?” Baron asked once they’d all shared a laugh at Talib’s expense.

  “Well, it’s definitely a fever.” Rory mopped his freckled brow with a handkerchief. “Probably started a couple of days ago but the lengthy trip dressed the way she was certainly didn’t help any. Ask Serena to keep her trussed up in these gowns, would you? I doubt Ms. Bales will find them fashionable, but the weight of the material will help her sweat out the fever.” The doctor rolled down his shirt sleeves and turned to his friends. “I’ve given her a little something that should help, but I expect she’ll have a rough day and night.”

  “Is there anything more we can do?” Cafrey asked.

  Rory shook his head, green eyes twinkling as he looked back at Misha. “Keep her bundled. I doubt you’ll get a good amount of liquids into her but that’d help. The fever could put her in a really bad state before it breaks. She may even start talking out of her head.” He shrugged into his tweed coat. “It should break sometime during the night, but if it rises sharply or you’re just plain unnerved by it all then give me a call and we’ll arrange to get her to town.”

  The Masons thanked the doctor and were ushering him out of the bedroom when they found Talib lurking in the hallway.

  “There you are, lad,” Doc McCallum greeted with a broad smile.

  “Doc.” Talib moved to shake hands.

  “She’ll be fine, son,” the doctor assured. “Fever’s bound to put her in a bad way but I’m confident it’ll break during the night.”

  Talib could only nod.

  Baron saw Doctor McCallum out while Cafrey saw to Talib.

  “It’ll be best for one of us to keep a watch over her during the day and the night especially.”

  “Right.” Talib agreed with his uncle, but didn’t sound too keen on being one of the watchers.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, squirt, but you can’t blame yourself. What’s done is past.” Cafrey clapped Talib’s back. “You should know that better than anyone. After all, isn’t that what you’re trying to get Misha to believe?”

  Cafrey left the room without waiting for a response.

  The day was indeed a rough one. Misha tossed during her sleep as she seemed to struggle to awaken before falling back into a deep slumber. Talib remained far from the second floor most of the day, gaining updates on Misha’s condition from Serena. The woman had toiled away most of the day working to get juice or just plain water into Misha’s system. Any urgings to get Talib to sit with the patient were met by stern looks and silence. Eventually, even the brothers stopped trying to prod their nephew.

  Fate intervened when one of the mares went into foal that evening. The birth of a calf was cause for celebration at the Mason stables. Even Serena was busy providing hot drinks and cakes for the men who all oversaw the birth. Talib was left to watch over Misha for the evening.

  Serena had already instructed
him to work on getting fluids into Misha’s system if she awakened. Talib wasted no time seeing to the task. Whatever unsettling thoughts raced his mind, nursing her back to health had to take precedence.

  Misha was frowning and tossing amidst the covers. She clawed at the ruffled neckline of her gown, seemingly desperate to rid herself of the heavy material.

  “Shh, love, it’s all right.” Talib soothed her while tugging down her hands and pressing kisses to her fingers. “Shh…” He added kisses to her damp brow and cheeks.

  “Tali?” Misha murmured slowly, turning her face toward the sound of his voice.

  Talib chuckled. “It’s me, love. Shh…”

  “Talib…”

  “Honey, you need to drink something. It’ll help.” He was reaching for a glass on the nightstand.

  “I didn’t mean it, Tali. I didn’t…”

  Talib smiled, pouring water as he squeezed her hands. “Shh…you’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, thinking she was referring to the fever she’d come down with.

  “I didn’t mean to…but they…they helped. They helped, Talib….”

  His movements slowed a bit as he watched her more closely.

  “They helped….”

  His curiosity took over and he set aside the glass. “Who helped, love?” He smoothed moist tendrils of hair from her small, oval face, knowing this was probably the “talking out of her head” Doc McCallum had warned them of. Still, something drove him to knowing.

  “The pills helped me…they helped…when you left…I didn’t mean to—to let them…take over…”

  Talib released her hand, lest he crush it.

  Misha continued to murmur and Talib clenched a fist. The rage that he’d set on simmer for the day began to rumble, demanding full heat. He felt sick. Sick of himself.

  Misha’s tossing was appearing to wane as sleep set in once more. Dutifully, he tucked the covers up close around her neck and lingered near to kiss her temple. Then he returned to his chair and watched her from afar.

  Once all the hoopla surrounding the new foal had settled, Baron and Cafrey returned upstairs. They announced the addition of a new gelding on the ranch, but didn’t expect their nephew to be overly joyous.

  Meanwhile, Serena was checking Misha's forehead and announcing that she felt cooler. As the three celebrated the possibility of the fever breaking, Talib gathered his things and excused himself.

  Chapter 18

  By morning it was official: Misha’s fever had broken. Serena went to check in on her and found the patient sitting up in bed and pushing at the ridiculously long sleeves of the gown that was at least ten sizes too big.

  The curiosity in Misha’s dark eyes spoke volumes and Serena had to laugh. Taking pity, though, she settled down to explain all that had happened.

  “Oh, God.” Misha was mortified and covered her face with the big sleeves of the gown. “First I oversleep in the car, then I take sick and you all have to nurse me back to health.” She flopped her hands pitifully at her sides. “Talib’s uncles must think I’m quite the catch.”

  “They do.” Serena spoke without hesitation as she fussed about the bed. “We all do, dear.”

  Misha shook her head. Clearly, she was a nonbeliever. “Where is Talib?”

  “The poor thing.” Serena’s mouth curved downward. “He’s been in such a state since you’ve been ill. He blames himself for bringing you all this way dressed like you belong on the Riviera.”

  “I should find him.” Misha laughed.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Serena tugged at the covers Misha tried to push away. “Not until you’ve had a proper breakfast, missy. I’m heading down to fix you a plate if those greedy beasts haven’t cleaned out all my pots, that is.”

  “Are they having breakfast now? Serena, please.” Misha sat up straighter. “I feel well enough to go down and eat. You won’t have to come back up here with a heavy tray.”

  “They’ll have my head if your traipsing around the house makes you sick again.” Serena waved off Misha’s plea.

  “Come on, Serena, we both know who runs this house.”

  The woman’s brown cherubic face began to glow with amusement. “You are a sly one.” She wagged a finger.

  “Please, Serena. I’ve been cooped up in here long enough.”

  “Humph. I do admire your spunk, missy.” Serena clapped her hands. “All right, then, let’s find you something more appropriate for the breakfast table.”

  “What a blessing to have Misha come out of her fever so quickly,” Baron said while topping off his coffee.

  Cafrey nodded. “Especially with everything going around these days. But she’s a healthy little thing.” He raised his mug for more coffee.

  “We should send up our prayers. Her illness could’ve been worse—a lot worse.”

  “It’d do some of us good to remember that,” Cafrey murmured.

  Baron chuckled. “That can be difficult when some of us are idiots.”

  Talib slammed his fist to the table. He drew raised brows from his uncles but no comments.

  Then Misha walked into the dining room and each man stood. Of course, the brothers rushed right over to welcome their houseguest.

  “I swear…” Baron marveled, cupping Misha’s oval face in his hands. “Even with that fever, you were a sheer beauty. Healthier now, you’re even more remarkable.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Cafrey kissed the back of her hands.

  “You two are really overdoing it now.” Misha rolled her eyes. “I know I still look a fright. I really must apologize for being so worrisome.” She smiled when they both waved her off. “I asked Serena if it’d be all right to have breakfast together.”

  Before Baron or Cafrey could lead her to a chair, Talib was taking Misha’s arm.

  “Are you really all right?” He cupped her cheek as she nodded yes. He led her to the chair closest to where the uncles were sitting and reclaimed his place at the far end of the table.

  “Doc McCallum will be over to check on you after breakfast, love.” Cafrey set a plate before her.

  “Thank you both for taking such good care of me.”

  “Talib was with you when the fever started to break,” Cafrey shared. “His presence must have worked some sort of magic.”

  Misha peered at Talib through the heavy fringe of her lashes. “Thank you,” she said, but silently she questioned the guarded quality of his dark gaze.

  “We talked him into giving us a few more days with you, but we understand you’re a career lady.”

  “Yes, I should really call and check in,” she told Cafrey, imagining the messages that must be clogging her phone.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Talib spoke up from where he sat. “I already called Riley and explained.”

  Misha nodded, still questioning his obvious mood. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was angry with her. But why?

  “So it’s settled, then.” Baron clapped his hands. “We’ll give you the rest of the day and night to get yourself together. Then the rest of the family is demanding their chance to meet you.”

  “Oh…” Misha’s fork paused over her eggs. “I hope you all haven’t planned any big get-togethers?” She didn’t want the rest of the Masons having any preconceived notions about her and Talib. Things were still up in the air. Way up.

  “They simply wish to welcome you to the family, dear.” Cafrey leaned over to rub her hand.

  Another fist-slam to the table drew everyone’s gaze and instilled silence. Misha looked away from Talib’s stony expression. She kept her eyes lowered as he passed her on his way out of the dining room.

  The rest of breakfast with Baron and Cafrey passed easily. The brothers were full of conversation and questions about Misha’s work, which helped to keep her mind off their nephew. Still, Talib’s brooding was a dark shadow that loomed in the back of everyone’s mind.

  Following the meal, Serena ordered Misha back upstairs and into a hot bath. Misha�
�s mood improved drastically. A claw-foot tub right in her bedroom and before a raging fire was just too perfect on an overcast day in the English countryside.

  Talib walked in while she was soaking up the warmth still left in the water and enjoying the sway of the tree limbs against the wind. Misha pushed up a bit in the tub, her ebony stare narrowed and expectant.

  He sat on the black padded bench at the foot of the bed. Leaning forward, he bridged his fingers and held them between his knees. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  Bewildered, Misha shook her head. “Tell you what?”

  “About the pills.”

  She paused. “How—?”

  “You weren’t yourself during the fever. Doc McCallum warned us that you might say strange things in the midst of it.”

  Misha blinked away and began fidgeting with a damp tendril of hair that clung to her neck.

  “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  “Why?” She looked up just in time to see his expression turn murderous. Boldly, she continued. “You’re already blaming yourself for what happened to your mother, and that had absolutely nothing to do with you.” She leaned back against the tub. “How could I tell you this and have you lay fresh blame at your feet? Besides, what purpose would it serve? It was in the past, nothing would have changed it.”

  “Yet you were all too interested in every aspect of my past.”

  “That was different.”

  “How?”

  Misha slapped the surface of the water. “The pills were an aftereffect. The accident…it was a bad one. It took me a long time to heal.” She hid her face in her hands when the memories rushed in. “I was in a lot of pain and out of work—I quit The Beacon after all that went down. So…” She flexed her hands around the sides of the tub. “Out of work, out of a man and in a lot of pain. The pills were a big help…or so I thought.” She gave a pitiful smile. “I needed them for the physical pain…at first. Then, it was for all the other pain. Thank God for Lett.”