Now he owed Dan an explanation.
He climbed into the front passenger seat, the knot in his gut getting worse every minute. Finally, he said, "Sorry about the mess down there."
Dan shrugged easily. "Duncan's going to be fine. He and Reed said their only problem was their hostage, not you or Dr. Evans. We'll handle the rest with Milero and the San Reino government."
"I appreciate you letting me go."
Dan shook his head and said, "You said you had to."
As if that were all that mattered.
And then, because explanations might be a moot point now, Sean said, "Did you pull the file?" He'd told Dan who Grace was when he argued that they had to go and get her. But he hadn't said anything else.
"I pulled it," Dan said. "Didn't have much time to do more than glance at about ten years' worth of information. We've been keeping close tabs on the lady. Because of your father?"
Sean nodded. His father had the clout to do that, and later when Sean did himself, he'd taken care of it.
"You want me to pull this out of you?" Dan offered. "I'm willing. Or you could just tell me what you want me to know."
Sean winced. They turned onto a smaller road and the sun nearly blinded him. He shielded his eyes with his hand, dug into his aching head with his fingers and felt the sickness deep inside once again.
"I don't know what I want," he said. Then he admitted, "I haven't told anyone about it in twenty years."
"Just so you know, Jamie knows you were down there and who you went to get. I don't keep things from her now. It's one of the few promises she asked for, and I gave it to her. So if you don't want her to know any more, stop now."
Sean nodded, accepting that. He owed them both. "I think Jamie was too young to remember much of it."
"She was old enough to notice the change in you and your father, and to worry. She knew you were hurt in the blast. She knew your father felt responsible in some way, that it weighed on him for years to come."
"It happened when he was with the UN. The Italians insisted for the longest time that they had everything under control, but as the peace conference got closer and bigger and the threats escalated, they panicked and asked the UN to step in at the last minute. My father ended up in charge of security," Sean said, then got to the heart of it. "Grace doesn't know any of this. She has no idea I was there."
Dan nodded once again, and Sean thought he could almost hear his brother-in-law's thinking process. Sean was obviously involved with her, and she didn't know anything about him or his father being there when the bomb exploded and her whole family was blown to bits.
"I've seen countless news reports since Milero started bragging about having her," Dan said. "But when they flashed that old photo onto the screen, my eyes were always glued to the little girl, to Grace, and I suppose the wreckage behind her. I never looked at the soldier who hauled her out of there. Not until I saw the two of you staring at it in the airport."
Sean sat there still as a statue.
"You're the one in the photo, aren't you?" Dan asked. "You're the one who got her out of there?"
Sean nodded, simply unable to say a word.
"And you're not going to tell her? Not any of this?" Dan asked.
He shook his head yet again. There was no point. He and Grace both agreed. Their relationship had no place to go. She didn't want it to, and he… Well, it didn't matter what he wanted, because it all involved changing the past, which was something he hadn't figured out a way to do.
So he wasn't going to tell her. It would serve no purpose, except to make her hate him, and if they weren't going to be together, anyway…
It was a roundabout way of justifying a lie, a luxury he didn't normally allow himself. But there it was. He'd sunk so low as to telling lies, and yes, he'd done it in the beginning with a fairly clear conscience. He'd done it so she would listen to him and let him protect her, something she wouldn't do if she hated him. He'd done it because he honestly and truly wanted her to be safe and thought he could ensure that. But once he'd held her in his arms, the lies had taken on a life of their own. They'd been purely personal, purely selfish on his part. Because of the look of disgust he didn't think he could handle seeing in her eyes when she looked at him, once she knew the truth.
It was too late, he told himself. It had always been too late.
"What are you going to do?" Dan said finally.
"She thought she saw me get blown to bits on the island. She's been in shock ever since it happened, and I'd take her to a hospital for observation, if I thought she'd go. But she won't, and I'm afraid the media people would find her there," Sean said. And that she'd find out the truth somehow. Surely he wouldn't try to lie to himself about that. Not now. "I hope she just needs some rest, some time to process it all. And then she'll go back to London. Probably right back out into the field. It's what she's always done, how she copes."
And he would have to hope that some of what he'd said had gotten through to her. Hope she'd be more careful and maybe build a life for herself. Maybe even find another man. Someone she could count on. Someone who would love her and wouldn't lie to her.
"I have to let her go," he said, and found himself staring right into the sunlight, feeling more exposed in the harsh light than he'd ever been in his life, more desperate, more lost, more ashamed.
He had to let her go. He'd known that from the beginning. He just hadn't understood what it would mean, what she'd come to mean to him.
Everything, he thought. She was everything to him, and in a day or two or three, he would have to stand here and watch her go.
* * *
Grace woke as they pulled into a gravel driveway amid a tall stand of trees. The drive led to a beautiful old three-story white house with a porch that wrapped around the entire front and along the side she could see. She'd bet it went to the back as well, for a view of the bay. She glimpsed water through the dense trees. Birds flew away, no doubt disturbed by the sound of the vehicle, and she saw a few toys scattered along the porch and the front lawn.
Her throat went a little tight at the sight, the house so solid, so enduring. There were climbing roses encompassing one entire side of it, intertwined along the columns of the porch, as if they'd never let go. There was a child's swing hanging from a massive tree on the left side of the house, flowers everywhere, and a dog, a golden-colored cocker spaniel, who came bounding around the corner.
It was so obviously a home. That was what got to her. Grace had never had anything of a lasting home. Hers had been with her family, wherever their travels took them. Which made this something totally out of her experience.
This was a home. His sister's and the man who had to be about Sean's age and had a tendency to look a bit too stern for her own comfort. He and Sean seemed comfortable with each other, but she found Dan Reese thoroughly intimidating.
He climbed out of the vehicle and shushed the dog, commanding him to stay down. Sean took her hand and helped her out of the tall vehicle. She was standing there edging closer to him, looking for that sense of reassurance that always came from being near him, when the front door of the house burst open and a little boy came flying out.
Dan swore softly. He dropped his cane and ran awkwardly the five strides to the bottom of the steps leading up to the porch, snatching the little boy out of thin air as he tripped coming down them.
The boy, absolutely adorable with blondish-brown hair and big brown eyes, couldn't have been more than two. He obviously thought it was a game. He laughed as he swung into the arms of the man trying to stifle a curse.
"You said a bad word, Daddy," the boy said, obviously delighting in catching him.
"Rich, I swear…"
"You said a bad word."
"You're going to crack your head open coming off the steps like that one day when I'm not around to catch you," he warned, with what Grace thought was admirable sternness in the face of such beauty, charm and enthusiasm.
At that moment, a woman appeare
d in the doorway. A stunning, dark-eyed, dark-haired woman with a baby in her arms.
"Your son can still get the front door open," she complained. "Even with all the locks in place and those silly childproof things, I couldn't keep Houdini in."
Dan walked up onto the porch and kissed the woman, Jamie. He kissed her quickly, deeply, and when he turned around – his wayward son still in his arms, their baby in his wife's – the smile on his face was absolutely dazzling.
Grace didn't find him intimidating at all in that moment. In fact, she felt an altogether painful twist, deep in her heart. What in the world was going on with her? How could it hurt that much just to see the four of them together? She'd seen thousands of families over the years, some intact, some not. It never hurt that much.
This one nearly blinded her. She had to look away, felt ridiculous tears sting her eyes, had no defenses at all that could combat this.
"Come on," Sean said, taking her hand. "Come meet the rug rats."
The little boy yelled "Uncle Sean!" and then Sean grabbed him before the steps did him in again.
"You're in luck, Rich," Sean said. "This lady is a doctor. You can get into all kinds of scrapes while she's here, and I bet she can fix you right up."
"Please, don't encourage him," Jamie said.
Sean just grinned. "Rich, this is my friend, Grace. She's going to be staying here for a few days, and I want you to be very, very nice to her."
The boy grinned. Grace saw that he had a bruise on his cheek, a scrape on his knee, a bandage on his finger. He was obviously in the midst of that into-everything phase. The phase where kids moved too quickly and had no understanding whatsoever of gravity or heights or risks.
"Grace," Sean said, "this hellion is my very first and best nephew, Richard Douglass Reese."
He said it with obvious pride and such affection, a look she'd simply never seen on his face. He was happy in the moment, she realized. Relaxed. Off guard, here with this beautiful little boy and surrounded by his family.
Sean had always been handsome. He absolutely took her breath away now.
She fought the feeling, instead taking the little boy's hand and shaking it. "How do you do?"
Suddenly shy, he giggled again and threw his arms around his uncle, burying his face in Sean's neck.
Grace had to look away completely. Seeing them together… There was definitely a strong family resemblance between the two. It was too easy to imagine this was his son. That he'd stand there just like this one day with his own child, and maybe then he'd smile more often. Maybe then he'd be happy.
Grace wanted him happy, she realized. She wanted him smiling and dazzling and carefree. Not blown to bits on some island an ocean away.
And just like that, she closed the door once again. On all the possibilities, all the nasty little risks associated with loving someone and letting him into her life. It would get easier with time, she told herself. She'd only been trying since she'd woken up on the boat and realized one more time that Sean was indeed real. A bit battered and bruised, but heartbreakingly real. She wasn't going to let him anywhere near her heart again.
So Grace politely shook hands with his sister, smiled at the baby and just as quickly looked away. Jamie showed her to a pretty bedroom in a quiet corner of the house, where Grace sat and stared at the bay and counted the hours until she could go back to her real life. Back to days in a too-hot or too-cold climate, where the pace was frantic, the work never done. No time to do anything but work.
Work had always gotten her through. She was counting on it doing it again, making her forget all about him, all about the idea of loving him, and remember her utter certainty that no matter what, she would lose him, too.
* * *
Sean put her off for three days. She stayed in her room at Dan and Jamie's most of the time and stayed away from him, being unfailingly polite and determinedly distant. He couldn't get through the wall, couldn't get to her, and honestly, he was afraid to try too hard. She seemed too fragile, as if one strong push would send her toppling over the edge.
He didn't want to let her go like this, but it seemed pointless to make her stay. After all, he had no claim on her, no rights whatsoever where she was concerned. He'd have to settle for doing what he always had – worrying from afar and watching out for her as best he could, hoping to God that would be enough.
He walked out onto the back porch of his sister's home that afternoon with her new passport in his hand. There was a wrought-iron patio set there, lined with big, fat floral cushions, and Grace was sitting in one of the chairs, her legs drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. She barely looked at him, just stared at the water, looking so fragile and lost and alone.
It hurt him just to see her now, hurt so much he had to concentrate hard on staying quiet, staying in control, when he wanted to tear something apart with his bare hands. To scream and yell and pound on something. On himself, actually. How the hell was he supposed to deal with this, when the person he absolutely despised for doing this to her was himself?
But at the moment, he buried all that inside of him and sat down beside her. Handing her the envelope, he said, "A present from my brother-in-law."
Grace took it with the merest bit of interest and opened it. He might have seen something flicker across her face for an instant, before she buried that as well.
They were a real pair, he and Grace.
"I suppose you want to go to London?"
She nodded.
"I checked with the airlines before I came over. There's space on an overnight flight leaving tonight, if that's what you want. They're holding a ticket for you."
She seemed torn at first, looking this way and that, anywhere but at him. Come back to me, Grace, he thought. Just for a day. For an hour. So he wouldn't worry so much. So he would know she was going to be okay.
"It's for the best, isn't it?" she said finally. "There's nothing else for me to do."
"I know." And then it was his turn to look away. He stood up, shoved his hands into his pockets and closed his eyes, tried to keep his voice steady and to give nothing away. "I understand."
"Then there's no point in drawing this out."
He nodded, not knowing if he could stand it even now. "You're going right back out into the field, aren't you?"
She hedged, saying nothing except "There are never enough doctors to go around."
Sean's breathing became more difficult, more strained. He bit back a half a dozen things he wanted to say, and settled for simply asking, "Will you be careful, Grace? Please? For me?"
"Yes."
"And if you need me…" He couldn't go on. Absolutely couldn't. Bleak eyes stared out into the water. He was shaking, he found. Absolutely shaking with the need to grab her and hold her and never let her go.
She got to her feet. For a moment, he thought she was coming to him. He braced himself for it, yearned for it, nearly died a thousand times waiting for it.
But she didn't come to him. She stood up and said, "I should pack."
He nodded. "Jamie has some things to do in town. She'll take you to the airport. I'll call the airline for you."
"Thank you. For everything."
He nodded, thinking, cut me, Grace. Go ahead and cut me to shreds. He'd put the knife into her hands himself, felt as if he were already bleeding all over the place. As if he simply couldn't contain the utter misery pouring out of him, but he didn't want her to see it. He didn't want her to know or to ask why.
He just had to let her go.
* * *
She disappeared, and Sean called the airline. Behind him, the door opened and he braced himself as best he could, in. case she'd come back. But when he turned around he saw his sister standing there.
She didn't say anything at first, just walked up behind him and put her arms around his waist, leaning her face against his shoulder. And just her attempt at comforting him was almost more than he could bear.
He wanted Grace. He wanted her so badl
y he felt as if he could tear his own body limb by limb to get to her.
And he had to pull himself together. If he could just make it past the next few moments, he'd be gone. Maybe he'd find the strength to get through that without begging her to stay, knowing it would only make things harder in the end, once she knew, once she left him for good.
Because she would go, once she knew. He had no doubt.
"Would you do me a favor?" he asked his sister.
"Of course."
"Take her to the airport?"
"I thought—"
"I can't, Jamie."
"I don't think I've ever heard you say those words," she said, holding him more tightly. "About anything. I've always known you could do anything—"
"Not this," he said raggedly. "I can't fix this."
"You're in love with her."
He didn't waste his breath denying it.
"Have you even told her? That you love her?"
"She doesn't want me to love her. She told me so, and she has good reasons for feeling that way."
He had to be thankful they'd never crossed any of those uncrossable lines. They'd never said the words to each other, had never actually made love. That had to make it easier, didn't it? Eventually, he'd be grateful for those two small things.
"Sean, please. I've never seen you like this."
"I'll be okay," he insisted. He'd be a hermit. Or maybe he'd bury himself in his work like she did. Maybe he'd start working out with the teams every morning, maybe every evening, too, instead of the three days a week he gave it now, when he was in town. Maybe he'd try to burn off every bit of frustration and energy he had there. Until he was too tired to think and could sleep at night and maybe forget how it felt to have her in his arms.
"I love you," Jamie said. "And I want you to be happy." Sean swore softly, bitterly. He loved his little sister, but she knew him too well, saw too much.
HER SECRET GUARDIAN Page 16
