by Susan Sands
The old plantation would require a lot of work still, but after an extensive evaluation of the property, he didn’t expect to find any more serious problems with the place.
After he left the grocery, Grey headed back toward Evangeline House, but couldn’t get through due to a traffic delay. By the looks of things, there’d been an accident. The red lights of an ambulance ahead, along with several police cruisers blocked the right lane.
Slowly, he approached an officer waving traffic around the scene. As Grey inched closer, he recognized the station wagon he’d helped load only an hour before. It was sitting askew in the lane with the driver’s door open, the windshield shattered and a deep indention in the hood. Cammie wasn’t anywhere that he could see.
He swallowed convulsively, the blood roaring in his ears so loudly he was deafened by it. “Oh, God.” The ambulance pulled away while he’d been several cars back.
Rolling his truck window down, Grey managed to find his voice, “Do you know if the driver is alright?” He asked one of the young officers on the scene.
“Looks like she got the business end of a twelve-pointer. Quite a bit of blood, but I don’t think she’s critical.” Grey must have reacted because the officer asked, “Hey buddy, you okay?”
“Uh, yeah.”
He headed straight for County General, calling his father on the way.
He asked his dad for a couple favors during the call. His father reassured him. “Son, she’s going to be fine. I’ll take care of the car and its contents. Don’t worry.”
His dad owned the local towing company, and Grey wanted to get the car picked up as soon as possible and all the food back in refrigeration. Even with her accident, he didn’t want her to lose all the frozen Cornish hens if possible. At least he could try and do that.
By the time he arrived at the hospital, she was back in the triage area and he wasn’t able to go back and see her. Ben appeared through opened elevator doors. “What the hell happened? Someone called the nurses station upstairs and said Cammie hit a deer in Mom’s car.”
“I drove up on it. I was a few minutes behind the ambulance, but she’d already been taken back by the time I made it here.”
Ben approached the desk, “Excuse me, can you give me an update on Cammie Laroux’s condition?”
The woman spoke quietly to Ben in a husky tone while thrusting her chest toward him, as if he would become turned on while asking about his sister’s accident. Female reactions to Ben boggled his mind. Ben then turned to Grey. “She’s okay. Only a bloody nose and a bruised collarbone. Thank God.”
Grey exhaled hard, not knowing what he’d have done if Cammie had been seriously injured.
“I’ll call the rest of the family before they hear it from someone else and the story gets worse.” Ben excused himself to use his cell phone.
Grey sat down hard in one of the faded chairs. His hands were trembling.
“I’m going to head back and check on her myself. Want to come with me?” Ben asked.
“Sure.” That was an understatement.
“The nurse says she’s got a cut on her forehead, a fat lip and will be sore for a few days, but was lucky to be in Mom’s tank, even without the airbag.”
“I guess the deer wasn’t so lucky.”
“Junior says it wasn’t pretty, though he plans to mount the rack for his showroom.”
“Sounds like Junior.” Cammie’s taxidermist brother-in-law wouldn’t pass up that kind of opportunity. He dealt with dead animals all the time, and the county often called him to clean up when such matters needed dealing with.
As they reached the treatment room, Grey sucked in his breath at the lump on Cammie’s head. “Oh, wow. Hey, how are you feeling?”
“Like I hit a brick wall at fifty miles an hour, but fine otherwise.”
“Dad did a quick clear out of the station wagon and managed to save the hens before they thawed. He’s dropping them at Evangeline House with Rose and her daughter. She says to tell you not to worry, they have things under control.”
Cammie’s relief was evident by her exhale and soft, “Thanks for thinking of the food. It would have been such a waste to lose those hens. What about Mom’s car?”
“Retired, I’m sorry to say.”
Ben sighed. “Lots of good times in that old wagon.”
“For all of us,” Cammie agreed, then asked, “Can I go now? I want to see Mom before I head home.”
“Simmer down. They’re finishing your release forms now. Junior says that buck had quite a rack on him.” Ben said.
“Tell Junior I’m fine, thank you.” Cammie said.
“He did ask.” Ben grinned.
“After he checked out the rack, I’m sure.” Grey had to agree with Cammie’s assessment of Junior’s priorities.
Thankfully, Cammie moved carefully, though better than he expected as she rose from the bed, even though her clothes were pretty bloody.
“How’s your chest?” Ben asked.
“What a thing for a brother to ask.” She winked at Ben, but winced at the movement.
“The nurse said you’d hit the steering wheel pretty hard and would be sore for a few days, weirdo.”
“I was kidding. It feels like somebody stomped on me, but I’ll be alright,” Cammie reassured him.
“I don’t want Mom to see the blood all over you shirt. It would upset her. You can come back tomorrow. Go home now and get some rest.” Ben shuffled her hair, but gently.
“I’m fine,” Cammie sighed, exasperated.
“Go home. I’ll stay here with Mom, and Grey can take you,” Ben said.
Grey hurried to reassure them. “Of course. I’ll be happy to.” He was more than happy to help; his relief was so great that Cammie wasn’t hurt more severely than she was.
Cammie opened her mouth to protest, but Ben cut her off. “You’ll do as we say unless you prefer to be admitted for a night’s observation.” She stared at her brother in angry silence.
The matter was settled.
“I’ll bring my truck around,” Grey said.
The nurse was already insisting Cammie have a seat in the wheelchair. Grey headed toward the exit and decided to let Ben handle that fight as well.
*
Grey treated her as if she would break. “I’m okay, you know,” she said.
“You’ve just been in a car accident and you have stitches in your eyebrow.”
He stood too close, in her estimation, close enough for her to detect a wisp of his breath on her brow and the scent of spicy soap as he reached across to buckle her in. He tried to keep his weight off her, she knew, but he indented just a tiny pressure for an instant when the buckle clicked, causing her to inhale suddenly, which caused him to startle. “I’m fine. I’m not going to die. In a few days I’ll be good as new.”
“And today, you have to take it easy. I promised Ben that I would see to it.”
“I know. I’m sorry to be such a pain in the butt.” She was trying not to complain that he was the one taking her home.
“Are you hurting?” He did seem concerned.
“Not too bad. The nurse gave me some pills for that.” Her breastbone and head had begun to throb at the hospital, but the meds were starting to kick in. She could feel a distinctly warm sensation stealing around her middle.
“Do pain pills still make you, uh—silly?” He asked, smiling.
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t quite put her finger on—something, but had the uneasy feeling she was about to find out what it was.
“I seem to recall a wisdom tooth removal surgery and your first exposure to narcotics.” He turned, starting the ignition, a huge grin spreading as he obviously recalled details.
That grin brought back the incident in foggy remnants including her begging him to kiss and touch her. “Of course I remember having my wisdom teeth out, but I’d forgotten about the pain pills.” What a liar. She now remembered her first orgasm as clear as day. Before that, she’d either completely blo
cked out the event, or shoved it into the disremembered storage place in her brain with the countless other Grey-related items. Dear God, would she react that way to the drugs again? “I haven’t had any pain meds since then.”
“Did you already take the pills?”
“About a half hour ago.” She swallowed her panic as she fought the sensuous relaxation creeping in, easing her pain and inhibitions.
“Uh-oh.” He obviously still held close a clear memory of how the medication affected her.
“I remember enough to know that I want to be alone when they take effect.” Cammie couldn’t help but notice the way his faded blue jeans encased his muscled thighs.
“Let’s get you home—and stop looking at me like that.”
She still had every reason to hate his guts. But he really had aged well over the last ten years.
*
Cammie was a near-puddle; soft, pliable and boneless in his arms, by the time they reached Evangeline House. Grey lifted her gently and carried her toward the house, but she protested. “I wanna go to the back yard.”
“I’m carrying you upstairs to your bed.”
“No! I wanna go and lie in the gazebo, like we used to. You remember, don’t you?”
Boy, did he. Their make-out spot. He glanced around. The weather was mild with no rain forecasted. Maybe the fresh air would do her some good and sober her up a bit. He could work for a while then carry her up later. The gazebo was nestled in the center of the yard, shaded by oak trees and well-appointed with clean, comfortable cushions on wrought iron furniture.
He laid her on the chaise and had to disentangle her arms from his neck, as she’d locked them tight around him. Though the rest of her body was extremely relaxed, her arms seemed reluctant to disengage. He opened the nearby storage chest to pull out one of the blankets kept inside for chilly evenings.
Tucking it around her feet and placing a clean pillow under her head from the storage box, Grey tried to speak to her. “Cammie?”
“Hmmm?” She opened her eyes and seared him with a sleepy, sexy gaze as she stretched like a lazy cat, arms over her head, her still-bloody shirt accentuating her breasts. Fortunately for him, the blood removed any lingering lustful thoughts. Concern for her wellbeing was squarely at the forefront of his mind now.
“I’m going up to the house to get you a clean shirt. Any one you prefer?” He would check to see if Rose was there to handle it, and hopefully he could get to work on the house. Plus, the idea of aiding her in changing her blouse brought back in sharp relief his struggle between good and evil intentions toward a drugged and weakened woman.
“Doesn’t matter,” She slurred and waved him on his way.
“You alright for a few minutes out here?” She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
He sprinted from the gazebo toward the back porch, which was roughly twenty-five yards or so. Did she have to look so hot in a blood-covered t-shirt? Most slurry, fawny women would have him running the other direction for far different reasons. He should really let someone else handle the garment change. Cammie was riling up his manhood in the worst way—a dishonorable way.
It must have something to do with the other time she took those pain pills. Way back when they were young and so hot for each other. Back when their bodies ached through denim for the slightest brush of bare flesh, when the heat of the other’s proximity caused a painful longing to press just a little closer.
He entered the house in a near lather. “Rose?” She wasn’t in the kitchen, but he did notice it looked as if a hurricane had come through.
But no Rose. He called all around. Upstairs, downstairs, and no Rose. Damn. He would have to handle Cammie’s blouse change himself. He headed toward her room as if he’d grown up here as well. He had, in some ways, he supposed. They’d begun “going out” in middle school.
He’d gone inside her bedroom when Maureen had initially hired him to work on Evangeline House. His emotional response had surprised him. So many things inside were the same as they’d been years ago.
Her pom-poms were stuck at the corner of an old cork board filled with faded photographs overlapping each other at the corners. There were lots with her sisters, girlfriends, clubs; but not a single one of either Grey or Deb. Obvious gaps stood out where pictures had been removed.
He had a flash of nostalgia again as he crossed the threshold of her bedroom in search of a blouse.
Finding her suitcase empty, he started with the top dresser drawer. There weren’t any clothes in it, but something caught his eye just before he shut it. It was an old, navy blue bandana he’d worn as a teen. He recognized the pattern because his mother had bought several yards of the fabric and made him and his dad both each at least a dozen neckcloths.
As if unable to stop, he touched the fabric. There was a small item, something hard and round wrapped within. He shouldn’t snoop, of course he was trespassing, but he had to know what was inside. Carefully unrolling the somewhat weighty item, it fell with a thud, clank and then rolled underneath the bed.
“Damn it.” He stooped down to his hands and knees.
“What in the world are you doing up here—under my sister’s bed? And where is Cammie?”
Those were all very good questions. He managed to identify the object as his high school ring, tried to ignore the hard punch in his gut, and decided to leave it be. “Oh, hey, Maeve. I came up to get Cammie a shirt and I dropped something.”
“Okay. But where is she?” Maeve was no-nonsense.
“She’s out in the gazebo,” he said, willing himself to focus on the moment and not think about the high school ring still under Cammie’s bed like a tiny ball of emotional dynamite.
“Why isn’t she here in bed after her accident?” Hands on her hips, she resembled Cammie, though not quite as much as the other sisters because of her oddly dark blue eyes.
“Because she insisted I take her out there. I’m not quite sure why. Hey, can you help me find her something to put on? Her shirt is pretty bloody.”
“Oh, my Lord. Ben said she was okay.” Maeve’s eyes teared.
“She’s fine, Maeve. She has a small cut on her eyebrow and it bled some. Uh—she’s also a little woozy from pain meds. So, don’t pay much attention to what she says.” He made a circling motion with his index finger next to his ear and grinned.
“You’re scaring the snot outta me, Grey. Go on down and check on her. I’ll get her some clothes and be down in a sec.”
“Okay.” He headed down the stairs, his class ring still at the edge of the bed and the edge of his thoughts. Stopping by the kitchen, he filled a glass with ice and water for Cammie.
She was sound asleep by the time he’d made it back to the gazebo, her mouth wide open. He’d only been in the house a few minutes, but it seemed an eventful space of time.
The back door slammed and Maeve tottered toward them on her espadrilles, calling out to her sister. “Cammie, are you there? Honey, you scared the bejeezus out of us!” Maeve bent over her sister. “Dang, that must have been some smack on the head to bleed so much. What’s wrong with her? Is it okay for her to be asleep?”
“They cleared her to sleep, so I’m assuming she didn’t have a concussion. She’s medicated and very relaxed.”
“Let’s get her inside and put her to bed. I’ll worry about changing her shirt later. Can you carry her?”
“I managed to get her out here from the truck. I figure I can tote her back inside.” He bent to gather her now-limp form in his arms for the second time today. At least she wasn’t squirming against him just now.
Grey couldn’t say he was put upon just now. In fact, this would most likely be the only time he’d hold Cammie close again in this lifetime. He wanted to savor it. She still smelled the same. How could that be? Did she wear the same perfume? Or, after all these years could he recognize her by scent? How sad and desperate that sounded.
He laid her down on top of the bed, pulling up the quilt—the same one he remembered from whe
n she was a teen, handmade by her grandmother. Maeve had disappeared into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth. He quickly bent down to pick up his ring from under the bed before her sister returned.
What to do with it?
Grey quickly slid it in the top drawer of the bedside table just as the water shut off in the next room.
“Okay, I can take it from here. Thanks so much for bringing her home and handling things until I made it back.” He’d been dismissed.
Cammie stirred, opened her eyes, and reached out, her fingers encircling his wrist. “Hey, you.” Her smile, though sleepy, was dazzling.
Grey’s breath whooshed out, so unexpected was his response to her touch. He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”
“Good to see you awake, honey.” It was obvious by the narrowing of her eyes that Maeve hadn’t missed the sexy tone Cammie’d sent his way.
“Oh, hey, Maeve. I’m alright. A little sleepy.” Cammie yawned, then refocused her attention away from Grey toward her sister.
He took the opportunity presented by her change in focus. “Glad you’re feeling better. Guess I’ll head downstairs and get something accomplished this afternoon before it’s time to get Samantha home.”
“Thanks for taking care of me.” Cammie glanced toward him, but her earlier sexual haze seemed to have lifted.
“Let me know if you need anything.” he was backing out of her bedroom as he spoke the words.
He needed a beer and a cold shower to calm his nerves—and everything else.
*
Maureen Laroux thought about the ten year old letter again—for about the thousandth time. She may never know if she’d done the right thing where Cammie was concerned. Her bright, beautiful daughter had moved on, become successful, and achieved things she might never have attempted had she known the whole sordid truth surrounding the mess with Grey Harrison and his deceased wife. Not that Cammie had lacked ambition or drive, she simply had been so deeply wrapped up in a future with Grey that she would’ve stuck with him had she thought they had even the tiniest chance of a happy ending.
Cammie would’ve held out hope, no matter how dismal. She probably wouldn’t have left home—or might’ve tried harder to stop him from marrying Deb after the miscarriage. At the time, Maureen had been determined Grey wasn’t to be trusted, that he would hurt her daughter even more in the bitter end. Once a liar, a cheat, always one. That was the way of men in her experience.
