Finding Home

by Irene Hannon

  “She’ll be home by three.”

  “Will I see you Saturday night?”

  He rubbed his thumb over a spot of dirt on his jeans and switched to evasive mode. “I’ll stop in on my way home from the airport instead.”

  Gram settled back and gave him a smug smile. “You have a date with Cindy, don’t you?”

  The CIA ought to sign her up for its interrogation team.

  He brushed at another speck of dirt on his jeans—this one imaginary. He wasn’t ready to share the decision he’d made over the past few days. The one to take his relationship with Cindy to the next level. “Picking up a dog isn’t a date.”

  “Why do I sense there’s more to it than that?”

  “Wishful thinking?”

  Chuckling, she picked up her brush again and twirled it in her fingers. “Don’t play coy with me, Scott Walsh. You grew up under my roof. I can read you like a book. But if you don’t want to talk about your date with Cindy, fine. I won’t pry. I’ll just keep praying.”

  “You’ve been praying I’d date Cindy?” He frowned at her.

  She chuckled again and leaned forward to continue dabbing paint on the canvas. “My prayers are far more ambitious than that. Give me a minute and we can go for a walk. I have a hankering for a few of those Hersey’s Kisses. I heard from Devon today, by the way.”

  He tried to keep up as she hopscotched from one topic to another. “What did she say?”

  “Not much, but she sounded upbeat. I thought maybe she’d gotten some part she was after, but she said she hadn’t. I couldn’t get much out of her. She did ask me to tell you she’d call you soon, though. Did you send her more money?”

  “No.”

  “Odd. She didn’t mention needing any this time. When I asked about her finances, she said she had something in the works. I’m not sure what to make of that.”

  Neither did he. Was it possible she’d taken his advice and sought a job outside of show business?

  “There. Enough for today.” Gram put her brush in a glass of water and tugged her walker into position. Scott rose to help her up, but she waved him back. “Watch this.”

  Although it was a struggle, she managed to stand by herself.

  Scott gave her a thumbs-up. “I’m impressed.”

  “So is Brett. He said I’m an excellent student. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m planning to ditch this place by Fourth of July.”

  Scott grinned. “Independence Day. I see Devon isn’t the only one in this family with a flair for dramatics. Good for you.”

  “I still have some things to do in this life.” She gripped the handles of the walker and started toward the door. “The good Lord’s going to have to wait a while longer to call me home.”

  As Scott fell in behind her, he sent a silent thank-you heavenward. Not only had his prayers to restore Gram’s spirits been answered, but along the way he’d been graced with a second chance at love.

  He wasn’t going to push Cindy, though. Their situation called for caution and prudence. But he did plan to move forward—if the lady was willing.

  A topic he intended to explore come Saturday night.

  * * *

  “Hey, Mom! I’m going to take Toby out for a walk.”

  As her son’s voice floated up to the second floor, Cindy stepped out of her room and crossed to the railing on the balcony. Jarrod stood in the center of the great room, Toby prancing around at his feet. “Okay, but don’t be long. You have to get ready for the wedding in twenty minutes.”

  “I’m just going to the corner. Then I’ll put Toby in the basement.” The white ball of fur tugged him toward the door, tongue hanging out in eagerness, and Jarrod took off at a trot behind him.

  Cindy smiled. Agreeing to watch the pup had worked out well all around. He’d kept Jarrod entertained Thursday night and all day yesterday while she’d been at work. And starting her morning on Thursday with a quick visit from the pup’s owner had been an excellent fringe benefit.

  Tonight would be the icing on the cake.

  And perhaps the beginning of a whole new chapter in her life.

  A shiver of excitement rippled through her as she returned to her room. Scott seemed ready to follow the example of Elijah and Emma—and she wasn’t far behind.

  She slid the dress she’d selected for the wedding off the hanger. The aqua linen sheath with matching short-sleeved jacket was nice, but she was more focused on her attire for this evening. Scott hadn’t said where he was taking them for dinner, but she had a feeling it would be a bit more upscale than the Orchid. Yet she didn’t want to overdo it...

  Shaking her head, Cindy slipped on the dress. You’d think she was a teenager going out on her first date, with all this dithering over her wardrobe.

  She moved into the bathroom to brush her hair, then began applying her makeup. When she finished a few minutes later, she checked her watch. Jarrod was late. No surprise there. Boy plus dog equaled zero notion of time.

  Cindy walked over to the window in her bedroom and scanned the street, looking down to the intersection at 101. Jarrod was near the corner—but slowly ambling back. Stretching out his last few minutes alone with Toby.

  Just as she started to turn away, a squirrel ran across the open lot at the end of the street. Toby spotted it before Jarrod did, and with an excited bark, he tugged the leash out of her son’s hand and took off in hot pursuit.

  Toward 101.

  And straight toward the car rounding the curve in the highway—visible to Cindy but not to the pup.

  If anything happened to Toby...

  But her concern about the dog evaporated when Jarrod took off after him.

  Because Jarrod couldn’t see the car either.

  Fear roiling in her stomach, she began banging on the window. Calling out. But he was too far away to hear her.

  She had to get the window open.

  Hands shaking, she fumbled with the lock, keeping one eye on the running dog, the approaching car and her son.

  The sash didn’t budge.

  She yanked harder.

  The car rounded the corner and her pulse skyrocketed.

  A moment later, the squirrel ran into its path.

  Toby bounded after it.

  Even through the glass, she could hear the screech of brakes.

  The car began to slide toward the shoulder.

  She banged again on the glass, shouting at Jarrod to stay back.

  Heard a shattering sound.

  Stared in horror as he swerved to avoid the sliding vehicle, then went down when the back of the spinning car clipped him.

  Heart hammering, she tore down the stairs and out the front door, the sound of screams following her.

  Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she realized they were her own.

  * * *

  Scott exited the jetway at Arcata/Eureka Airport, resettled his duffel bag on his shoulder and checked his watch. He’d love to call Cindy and chat about their plans for tonight, but the wedding was in progress. Better to ring Gram and alert her he was on his way. The fifteen-mile drive south to Eureka wouldn’t take long.

  Maneuvering through the throng of exiting passengers, he pulled his phone off his belt, turned it on and saw he had three messages.

  Odd.

  The construction site was shut down for the weekend, so there shouldn’t be any work issues. Gram rarely called, and he’d had a chat yesterday with Devon, who’d been reticent—but upbeat—about her financial situation.

  He checked the messages. All three were from Gram, and all had been left during the past hour while his phone had been off during the flight.

  If Gram herself was calling, she must be okay.

  But something was wrong.

  His pulse ratcheted up several notches as he punched in her number.

  She answered on the first ring.

  “Gram? I just got off the plane. What’s...”

  “You need to get to the hospital.”

  He suc
ked in a breath at her tight, terse tone. “Are you...”

  “It’s not me. Jarrod’s been hit by a car.”

  Please, God, no!

  “Which hospital?” He took off at a fast jog toward the terminal exit.

  “St. Joseph’s.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t have any details. Genevieve called me because she didn’t have your number.” Gram’s voice was shaking.

  “Okay. We need to stay calm.” Like that was going to happen. “Do you have any idea how bad it is?” Scott broke into a sprint toward his car.

  “No, but Cindy’s there alone. Someone needs to be with her.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Will you call as soon as you know anything?”

  “Yes. Hang in there—and say a few prayers.”

  “That’s all I’ve been doing since I heard the news.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  Scott hung up and added his prayers as he sped toward the hospital.

  Twenty minutes later, when he charged into the E.R., the nurse behind the intake desk was the same one who’d been on duty the night Gram had been rushed to the hospital. But this time he ran into a glitch. He wasn’t family—the key to obtaining information about a patient.

  He stumbled when she got to the question about his relationship with Jarrod, then said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m going to marry his mother.”

  That seemed to satisfy her. She hit the release button for the automatic doors that led back to the treatment area. “Room four.”

  “Thanks.”

  Fifteen seconds later, he was on the threshold of the room.

  Cindy sat in the single uncomfortable plastic chair, head in hands, shoulders hunched with tension. There were multiple runs in her stockings from the heels up, and her sport shoes definitely didn’t go with her classy outfit.

  But what freaked him out was the blood. Lots of it. All over her blue dress. Plus a bulky bandage on her right hand.

  No one had told him she’d been injured, too.

  Stomach clenching, he approached her. “Cindy.” Her name came out in a hoarse whisper.

  With a gasp, she jerked and vaulted to her feet, swaying.

  Way to go, Walsh. Scare her half out of her mind.

  He took her shoulders in his hands to steady her.

  “S-Scott? How did you... I thought you were...” Her words trailed off.

  She looked liked she was in shock. Her face was white except for the streaks of mascara on her cheeks. Her skin was cold. And she was trembling.

  Instead of answering her questions, he pulled her close and folded her into his arms, cradling the back of her head with his hand.

  She clung to him, and he heard a sob catch in her throat.

  “How is he?” He said the words quietly, against her hair, praying for optimistic news.

  “His l-leg is broken. I don’t k-know how bad it is. They have him in X-ray now and they’re checking him for i-internal injuries.”

  “What happened? Genevieve called Gram, but she didn’t have any details.”

  “He took T-Toby out for a walk. A squirrel ran by, and Toby got away from him. He took off toward 101. The driver tried to avoid Toby, but the car slid and clipped J-Jarrod.”

  The dog they were watching for him was the cause of all this.

  Scott closed his eyes as a wave of guilt crashed over him, twisting his stomach into a hard knot. “I’m sorry. I should have asked my neighbor to watch Toby.”

  “No.” She backed away slightly and lifted her chin to look at him, her voice stronger. “Jarrod loved having Toby at the house. It was an accident.”

  That didn’t make him feel any better. “What happened to your hand?”

  She dismissed the question with an impatient lift of one shoulder. “I was in my bedroom when it happened. I banged on the window to try and warn him, but he didn’t hear me. The glass broke. I needed a few stitches. Jarrod’s the one who’s hurt.”

  “Walsh?”

  At the question from behind him, Scott turned to find Paul Butler once again on duty.

  The man did a double take when he recognized Scott. “Are you the fiancé?”

  Warmth crept up Scott’s neck, and in his peripheral vision he saw Cindy shoot him a startled glance. “A friend. But I needed a ploy to get in.”

  “Fast thinking.” Paul grinned and edged around him to address Cindy. “Let me take another look at that dressing.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “A nicked artery is nothing to fool with. You lost a fair amount of blood.”

  Scott frowned. No wonder Cindy was deathly pale. “How much?”

  “Enough.” Paul released her hand. “No bleed-through. That’s good.”

  “What about my son?” Once again, panic vibrated through her words.

  “He should be okay. No internal injuries. Aside from assorted scrapes and bruises, his primary injury is a broken femur. Otherwise known as the thigh bone. I’ll let David Anderson, our resident pediatric orthopedic surgeon, explain the treatment to you.” He gestured toward the door as a man with salt-and-pepper hair dressed in surgical scrubs entered. “This is Ms. Peterson, the patient’s mother.”

  Scott moved aside as the man crossed the room, shook her hand and got straight to business.

  “He’ll need surgery so we can realign the bone and insert small rods that act as internal splints. He’ll be off the leg three to six weeks. We’ll remove the rods in about a year. If you agree with that treatment plan, we’re ready to go. Any questions?”

  Cindy seemed dazed by the rapid-fire briefing. “H-how dangerous is this procedure?”

  “There’s a possibility of complications with any surgery, but—” the solemn surgeon finally cracked the hint of a smile “—I do dozens of these every year. In my opinion, it’s no more dangerous than a tonsillectomy.”

  Cindy looked at Scott. He reached for her hand but remained silent. He couldn’t make the decision for her, but he could let her know he was here to support her, whatever she decided.

  “Okay.”

  The surgeon gave a curt nod. “We’ll get started. Someone can direct you to the surgical waiting room. It’s more comfortable than this place.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and exited.

  Paul took the man’s place. “Not the best bedside manner, but he knows his stuff.” He glanced at an unopened container of juice on the tray table beside Cindy’s chair, leaned over and picked it up. “Take this along. With her blood loss, she needs to drink fluids.” He handed the juice to Scott. Putting him in charge of Cindy’s well-being.

  And as they followed an aide through a maze of corridors a few minutes later, as he kept Cindy close by his side, he realized he was fine with that assignment. He wanted to be the one she called in times of need, the one she shared her joys and hopes and dreams with.

  Bottom line, he wanted her. Period. In his arms—and in his life.

  As for any lingering fear holding him back—it had dissipated like an afternoon fog in Starfish Bay as he’d raced to join her at the hospital.

  Because this time he knew he’d chosen the right woman.

  So once they got past this crisis, he intended to lay his cards on the table.

  And pray she’d take a chance on him.

  * * *

  “You need to drink some more.”

  Cindy lifted her head from her hands in the corner of the surgical waiting room they’d staked out. Scott was holding another carton of orange juice—the second one he’d brought her in the past hour and a half as they’d kept vigil, fingers entwined.

  Those were the only two times he’d left her side.

  And she’d missed him during both brief absences. Desperately.

  Gratitude tightened her throat, and she tried to smile. “I must still look pretty bad the way you keep forcing liquids on me.”

  “Not bad. Pale.” He sat and held out the carton.

  He was being kind
. During her quick detour to the ladies room on their way here, her reflection in the mirror over the sink had shocked her. Her complexion had been chalky, and the streaks of mascara running down her cheeks had given her a ghoulish appearance. She’d erased those, but there hadn’t been a thing she could do about her pallor. And she doubted it had improved much during their vigil in the waiting room.

  Her fingers were still quivering, so she grasped the carton with both hands and tipped it against her lips. She hadn’t paid much attention to the amount of blood on her dress until they’d arrived here, but after the other occupants had subtly recoiled when she entered, she’d taken inventory—and discovered the reason she’d felt light-headed earlier.

  She looked like a victim in a slasher horror movie.

  “Thank you. This is helping a lot.”

  “I wish I could do more.” He reached over and smoothed her hair back from her face, which did nothing to steady the tremble in her fingers. “I called Gram on the way back here. She said to tell you she’s praying.”

  Cindy swallowed. “I appreciate that.”

  “She asked about Toby, too.”

  “Oh!” Cindy stared at him. “I’m sorry. I should have mentioned him sooner. He escaped unscathed. Janice is watching him until we can pick him up.”

  “I’ll let Gram know on my next call. Drink some more.” He tapped the container in her hands.

  She did as he asked.

  All the while thanking God for the gift of this man’s presence in her moment of crisis—and in her life.

  Scott remained silent while she finished off the juice, then tugged the empty container from her fingers, crossed the room and deposited it in a trash bin. When he rejoined her, he gently checked her dressing, as Paul had done earlier.

  “I don’t see any bleeding. Does it hurt?”

  “No. They gave me some shots before they stitched it, and I have pain pills for later if I need them.” She looked down at her hand, nestled protectively in his. Feeling more cared for than she had in a long time.

  Barbara had told her once, not long after they met, that she was a capable woman. And she was. But she could get used to having this man, with his quiet strength, in her life. All the time—just as Jarrod had suggested last week, after their tour with Barbara.

  Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes as her son’s other comment from that day replayed in her mind. The one about how it was scary to like somebody too much because if they went away, it would be hard. But as he’d pointed out, it would be worse if you’d never known them at all.