Miracle of Love

by Victoria Chancellor

  Erina wouldn't buy a paperweight for Colin, even if he had everything else in the world. She probably do a nice deed, or make something, or whatever "earth mothers" did. When had he and his mother grown so far apart that she resorted to giving him an overpriced chunk of glass?

  Brian burst into the office, hitching up his dress slacks over his increasing waistline. "I thought you were going to kick them out the door before they ate the last bite of their strawberry tarts," he said, taking a burgundy leather chair in front of Grant's mahogany desk.

  "They didn't look like they were starving to death. Besides, with what we're going to be paying them, they can afford new desserts."

  "You're cruel, son, real cruel," Brian said with a laugh. "So what's the big hurry?"

  "I need to talk to you about Colin and Erina."

  "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

  "No, you're not. As a matter of fact, you may think I should be kicked out without finishing dinner."

  "What's happened this week? Besides the fact that you're infatuated with a Irish teenager and her illegitimate son?"

  Grant frowned, placing the paperweight back on the edge of his desk. "She's not a teenager," he said, uncomfortable with their age difference but aware he couldn't change that fact. "The UTMB social worker is suspicious of Erina because Colin hasn't had his immunizations and didn't get any previous medical attention. The doctors also mentioned he was slightly underweight." Grant sighed. "I'm also concerned in case the social worker brings the child welfare people in--or anyone else. I don't believe Erina has any documentation on her entry into the country, or even a birth certificate for Colin."

  "Good Lord! You mean on top of everything else, she's an illegal immigrant?"

  "I have no idea. She says she's from 1896."

  "What?"

  "She thinks she and Colin have traveled forward in time as a result of a miracle at St. Mary's Cathedral."

  "You're kidding me, right?"

  "No, unfortunately. She's actually very convincing. And she even picked a time when there are no records."

  "Wait just a minute, Grant. This fascination you have for this girl and her baby is getting out of hand."

  Grant pushed himself out of his chair and paced the length of his office. "I knew you were going to say that, Brian. And it's going to get worse."

  "No, you don't! You just wait--"

  "Can't do that, Brian. Now, the way I figure it, what I need right now is a good immigration attorney and a meeting with a private investigator. A really good one."

  "Dammit, Grant."

  "Think you can arrange something for this afternoon?"

  #

  Erina paced Colin's private room, her thoughts more on Grant than on her sleeping son. Night had fallen, but he still wasn't back from Houston. Perhaps something had happened to him. Or maybe he'd just decided that he'd grown tired of her problems. He was under no obligation, but still, she'd grown to depend on his guidance and . . . and just his presence.

  She'd grown to care for Grant.

  The very thought filled her with both excitement and dread. While she'd come to expect his smiles and frowns, his intense looks and heart-pounding kisses, she had no way of knowing how long she'd be in his time. What if she and Colin suddenly disappeared next week, or in two weeks? Oh, Grant would believe her then, no doubt, but his realization would come too late. She'd never see him again--a thought that saddened her terribly.

  Once before she'd fantasized about a wealthy young man, and look what had happened! She knew she was safe with Grant; he'd proved himself a gentleman at his condo, leaving her in peace to bathe and dress. But now her heart was in more danger than her person.

  She should focus on Colin, she reminded herself. Although he'd run a degree of fever, the nurse had explained earlier, that was considered normal and he could still be moved from the intensive care unit. He'd been awake more today and she could sit with him as long as she liked. The hour grew late though, and still no sign of Grant.

  She had no money for dinner, and although she could help herself to coffee, the brew didn't set well on her empty stomach. A combination of nerves and no food was producing a headache that pounded against her temples with each step.

  She stopped pacing and looked out the window. Lights from around the island gave a magical view. She'd remember--and miss--electric lights if she went back to her own time. Not only were they functional, but they were beautiful as well. Grant had explained that at Christmas, homes and businesses decorated with colored and white electric lights, giving beautiful displays of holiday shapes and messages. She wanted to stay and see such a sight, but feared that her time was limited. Her miracle had asked only for Colin to be cured, and he was getting better each day.

  With a sigh, she walked over and sat in the chair beside the bed. She'd turned the overhead lights off and only a lamp provided a faint glow in the room. Colin slept peacefully on his back, the bandage from his surgery covered by his little gown.

  What would she do if Grant didn't come back? She could sleep here at the hospital for a time, she supposed, but she still had no money, no food. Her new clothes were at Grant's condo. And what about Colin's medical bills? Would Grant pay those now?

  "You're workin' yourself into a mean, gloomy mood," she whispered into the darkness, hugging her arms close. How had she become so dependent on a man in such a short period of time?

  Minutes passed. A nurse came by and checked Colin, then left with barely a smile. Erina sat in the hard chair, rested her chin on a propped-up hand, and tried to envision life without Grant. The longer she sat there, the more her head pounded and the louder her stomach growled.

  #

  Grant stood at the doorway and gazed into the darkened room. The faint light from a low-wattage bulb illuminated Erina as she rested beside Colin's bed. Poor girl. This had been a long day for her.

  He stepped inside the room, his leather soles making no sound on the flooring. Colin appeared to be sleeping peacefully, his little chest rising and falling regularly, his head turned to the side, away from the light. Grant watched him for a moment, knowing he'd never experienced anything like the feeling of happiness and peace he felt when he looked at this baby. If he didn't know it was impossible, he could almost believe Colin was his son.

  But that was impossible, just as Erina's story of being from the past was a fabrication. He had to remember that, especially when she began talking about things she'd done, or questioned him about life today. Sometimes, he fell for her wide-eyed vulnerability. Sometimes, he had a hard time separating fact from fiction.

  He turned to Erina. She was asleep, her neck bent at an awkward angle, her back impossibly slanting toward the small bedside table. If he could, he'd just scoop her up and carry her home. But she'd probably protest, he thought, grinning, and the staff would never understand why it was okay to carry a kicking and screaming woman out of the hospital.

  He hunkered down in front of her chair. "Erina?"

  Her eyes drifted open. She gazed at him without recognition for just an instant, then launched herself from the chair into his arms.

  "I was so worried about you," she said, giving him a death grip around his neck. "Where have you been when all I was doin' was thinkin' the worst?"

  "And what was the worst?" he asked with a chuckle.

  "That you'd driven that demon Cherokee of yours too fast. Or that . . . Never mind what I was thinkin'."

  "Oh, no. What else?" he asked, disengaging her arms from his neck so he could lean back and see her face.

  "'Tis nothing," she said, blushing.

  "Did you think that I wasn't coming back?"

  "Now what would be givin' you an idea like that?" she asked defensively.

  "Because you have the worst poker face I've ever seen."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her eyes flashing blue fire.

  "Just that whatever you're thinking is clearly written on your face."

  "I've never been told
such a thing before," she said as though challenging him.

  "Maybe no one else was looking closely enough."

  Her eyebrows rose, she opened her mouth as though she was going to reply, then shut it and blushed.

  "I take it I got the last word in," he said, feeling very carefree for the first time in days.

  "You know you enjoy gettin' the last word."

  He pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Look at us, bickering and teasing like an old married couple. What do you think that means?"

  "I . . . It probably means we've been together too long."

  "I think maybe it means something else entirely," Grant said, studying her pale face, her dark eyes, her soft pink lips. Right now they were slightly parted as though issuing an invitation. When her gaze fell to his mouth, he was lost.

  He kissed her gently, sweetly, until she responded by parting her lips even more. He teased her with his tongue until she opened for him. Then the kiss changed, turning from a gentle exploration to an explosion of passion. He held her tightly, her breasts firm against his chest, his lower body desperately craving contact with her softness. A part of him wanted to pull her from the chair and lie with her on the floor. The hospital be damned. He wanted Erina, now and with a fierceness he'd never experienced before.

  "Visiting hours are over," a stern voice announced, breaking into his fantasy like a bucket of ice water.

  They broke apart like naughty schoolchildren. Erina covered her swollen lips with a hand while he stood up, turned to the wall, and tried to tell his body to calm down. Every damn time they kissed at this hospital, they got "caught."

  "We'll be gone in just a minute," he said, his voice sounding strained and slightly high. Great. Just like a teenager. Not only couldn't he control his raging hormones, but now he sounded like he was going through puberty again.

  This was no way to impress Erina.

  "I suppose that you've not gotten into any trouble," she said, breaking into his thoughts.

  "No, but I'm sorry I'm late. I didn't want to call the room and wake up Colin, and I wasn't sure where he was."

  "They transferred him to this room late this afternoon. He's doing fine, except that he had just a bit of fever."

  "Really?" Grant said, turning to look at the sleeping child. He looked okay, but his cheeks were a bit pink.

  "Did the doctor come by?"

  "Yes, he did. He told me not to worry."

  "Did you worry?"

  "Just a bit. The nurse explained that a touch of fever after surgery is not uncommon."

  "I've heard that too. Well, if he still has a fever, we can get another opinion tomorrow. I'm not going to risk his health when he's done so well."

  "I think the doctor knows what he's doin'," Erina said gently.

  "Probably, but I'm not taking any chances with Colin's health."

  "You're actin' like you're his da," Erina said, amazement and a trace of resentment in her voice.

  "I'm sorry, but it's my nature to take charge. And I mean it; Colin is going to have the best care possible."

  She titled her head to the side and watched him, but said nothing else on the subject. "I suppose I should have a bed brought in."

  "Why? You're coming back to the condo with me, aren't you?"

  "I wasn't sure," she said, looking him in the eye. "When you didn't come to the hospital, I thought perhaps you'd grown tired of . . . Well, I suppose that isn't true."

  "No, it's not. I think I was well on my way to proving that until the nurse interrupted." He watched Erina smile slightly and look away. "But if you'd like more proof . . ."

  "No! I mean, that's not necessary."

  "Darn. I suppose I can wait until the next time I get such an exuberant welcome."

  "I . . . You caught me unawares. I was asleep and I'd been thinkin' of you."

  He pulled her close, craving the contact with her petite body almost as much now as he had earlier. The slight brush of her skirt against his dress slacks, the feel of her breasts against his chest, the near touch of her soft belly against his rapidly hardening body was enough to drive him crazy again. "We'd better get home quickly before someone else interrupts us."

  "We'll not be carryin' on like this at your home," she whispered.

  "If you say so, although I'd like nothing more than to prove how good we could be together."

  "I'd like nothin' more than to stop this madness."

  He smiled down at her. "Liar. You want me nearly as much as I want you."

  She pushed away from his chest and turned to the bed. "Enough of your seduction, Mr. Kirby."

  "So we're back to that. Well, I don't mind. You'll be calling me Grant soon enough. Let's say goodnight to Colin and get a bite to eat. I haven't had anything since a lunch of wimpy croissant sandwiches about noon. Did you go downstairs and eat?"

  "No . . . I . . . I suppose you know I don't have any money," she said softly.

  "Damn, Erina, I'm sorry. I totally forgot to give you some spending money."

  "That's not your responsibility. I've taken so much from you already."

  "None of that talk. I'll give you some as soon as we get home. That way, if you need dinner or a cab, or whatever, you'll have your own money."

  "I'll be glad to work my keep."

  "Sorry. I don't need any dresses made," he said, lifting her chin and smiling into her too-serious face. "Besides, we're friends. Shouldn't friends help each other without expecting anything in return?"

  "I . . . I suppose."

  "Good. Now, kiss Colin goodnight and I'll take you out to eat."

  She placed a kiss on her baby's cheek. Grant leaned over and touched his lips to Colin's forehead. "Sleep tight, Tiger," he whispered. Sure enough, the baby's temperature felt normal--at least in his untrained opinion.

  Taking Erina's arm, he guided her out the door. "What do you feel like? Chinese, Italian, steaks, seafood?"

  #

  Erina knew something had changed. She didn't know what; she couldn't understand from Grant's odd mood. He seemed happy, yet also introspective and very observant of her. As a matter of fact, she'd felt herself squirm several times under his close perusal as they ate in small restaurant that sold sandwiches called "hamburgers"--which contained no ham that she could see.

  Grant kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked from the garage to the elevator, then his condo, even though the weather was warm and clear, the breeze fresh and salty. "It's been a long day for both of us," he said as he unlocked the door.

  "I suppose I'd sound very ungrateful if I said that I got a bit tired at the hospital today."

  "Ungrateful? Not at all. Why would you think that?"

  "Because it's a miracle that Colin had the surgery and he's doin' so well. I should just be thankful, but I'm afraid I'm becomin' a bit spoiled."

  Grant placed his business case on the small desk near the couch. "I think you should recognize your own needs. You don't have to convince me how devoted you are to Colin."

  "I'm not tryin' to convince you," she whispered, walking to the large windows and looking out at the dark beach and ocean. She could see little except a little white froth on the waves. In the background, she heard Grant push the button on his telephone so it would speak back to him. He turned on a light and she could no longer see outside, only her reflection in the glass.

  How different she looked in these new clothes! She would never have believed she'd wear such short skirts, but here she was, her lower legs and ankles exposed. And she could bare her arms without anyone looking at her twice. Her physical appearance made her look like a woman of this century, but was she also changing in her thoughts? Perhaps, about some of the social conventions. But she had to hold fast to her values and beliefs, especially those of the church. Her blessing as a mother--the health of her child--was a result of her faith in the Blessed Virgin and in God.

  She must not think so much of Grant Kirby that she forgot who she was and why she was here. And just because she'd r
ead every magazine in the waiting rooms, advising her of her woman's needs and how to satisfy them, didn't mean that she would take any action.

  He finished listening to the messages on his telephone and walked up beside her. "See anything interesting?" he asked, placing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

  "No . . . yes," she said, shivering as she came in full contact with the very warm, solid side of his body. He smelled so good, was always so clean and well groomed, unlike the men she'd known in her own time. They'd smelled of hair oil, bay rum cologne, and sometimes the odor of stale sweat.

  "You sound a little confused tonight," he said, looking out the windows even though he couldn't see a thing.

  She suspected he was looking at her. The knowledge made her even more concerned about her appearance, her values and her desires as a woman. "I feel a bit uncertain. You seem . . . different."

  "I think we should sit down and talk," he said. "I do have several things on my mind."

  She slipped away from his arm and walked to one of the chairs facing the couch. "What's the matter?"

  "Nothing," he said, slipping off his suit coat and placing it over the arm of the couch. He sat down facing her. "But I think things could get bad if we don't take some action."

  "The social worker and her threats?"

  "Exactly. While I was in Houston today, I talked to an immigration attorney."

  "Is that someone who could help get papers for me and Colin?"

  Grant shifted on the cushion. "Not exactly. I told him about you and Colin and he gave me some suggestions."

  "What did he say?"

  "If I can get your papers, he can help."

  "But I can't get them! They're in my apartment--in 1896."

  "I was afraid you were going to say that."

  "What else can I be sayin'?" Why didn't he understand that if she had any way to prove that her entry into the United States was legal, she would? If she could produce Colin's birth certificate, she would. "What about the records that the city or the state keeps? Can I get a copy from them?"

  "If there is a birth certificate for Colin, it wouldn't do any good now, would it? I mean, no one is going to believe he's a hundred years old."