by Clare Revell
Faith slid her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She had no idea what to say, but hoped this would do instead. “I’ll do the paintings within a week. I promise. And I’ll pray for him.”
~*~
For the next three days, Faith worked eighteen hours a day, sketching and painting her way through the manuscript. The only times she surfaced was to walk Patches or grab a few hours’ sleep. She saw Joel as he left the house, and he’d joined her for the morning walks each day. Sometimes they spoke, other times just walked in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company.
What was it about him that made her feel so at ease? Men were to be feared, their hands and tempers watched constantly, but Joel was different. Each day as she painted, she prayed for him asking God to be with him and Bradley.
Sunday came and she attended church with Grace, and ended up sitting next to Joel.
As the service finished, he glanced over to Elliott. “I’m heading over to Oxford. So I won’t need dinner.”
Elliott slid into his jacket. “Want some company?”
“Actually…” Joel turned to Faith. “I was wondering if you’d like to come and see who you’re doing all this work for. Meet Bradley.”
She hesitated. From what she’d heard, from what Joel had said, the little boy’s injuries were severe, and she’d never been great with sick people. But maybe seeing him would give her the incentive she needed to finish the pictures. “OK. I’ll come.”
Joel smiled. “Thank you. We’ll eat on the way, if you’re hungry.”
“Maybe on the way back. I’m not really hungry.” She glanced at Grace. “I’ll see you later.”
Joel stood, and Faith followed him from the church, her stomach knotting.
What was she doing? She had no idea how long it would take to get to Oxford from Headley Cross.
Did she really want to be alone with him in a car for however long it took?
Was it safe? Could she trust him?
~*~
The hospital smelled the same as they always did. Not that anyone would ever find out about her numerous trips to the ED. She’d been careful to use different hospitals, not to mention give a false name, each time. Faith glanced at Joel as they put on sterile gowns. All the light had drained from his eyes, making him appear drawn and haggard.
He sucked in a deep breath and visibly shook himself. “Ready?”
As I’ll ever be. She nodded and followed him into the small sterile room. Machines beeped and hissed. A tiny figure lay on the bed, covered in white bandages.
The nurse glanced up. “Hi, Joel.”
Joel moved over to the bed. “How’s he doing?”
“No change.”
Faith wrinkled her nose at the odor. This area smelled different. Something was rotten. With a jolt, she realized it was the infection.
Joel sat next to the bed, and reached out a hand, taking hold of the small bandaged one. “Hi, Bradley. I brought someone to meet you.” He glanced up at Faith. “It’s OK, come and say hi.”
Trembling steps took her closer to the bed. She didn’t want to. She just wanted to run, but that wouldn’t do anyone any good.
“This is Faith. She’s doing the drawings for your book.” Joel held her gaze. “They say hearing is the last sense to go. So, I have to believe he can hear me. We sit and talk for hours, with me finally getting the last word in.”
She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Hi, Bradley,” she managed. She perched on the edge of the chair. “I’ve done about a third of the paintings. Hope they’ll be OK.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Joel said. “The one I’ve seen was pretty good. I brought it in to show him the day you drew it.” He pointed above the bed. “He likes it.”
Faith followed his finger. Her pencil drawing was taped to the head of the bed. “It’s still there so I think he does.”
Joel’s sad gaze returned to the child. He began talking quietly, telling his son about church that morning, and the football match the day before.
Her heart broke for him as she watched. The child was dying. All the more reason she had to finish the paintings as quickly as possible, without dropping the quality of her work.
~*~
Five days after she started, she put the finishing touches to the last picture, just before breakfast. At least Grace wouldn’t need to nag her to eat this morning.
She couldn’t believe she had gotten them done, but if she didn’t see another airship ever again, it’d be too soon.
Grace handed her a mug of coffee as she walked into the kitchen.
“Thanks. I’ve finished. Just hope he likes them.”
“He’ll love them. Toast is on the side.”
Faith grabbed the toast, slathering it with butter and marmalade. “I hope so. Just pray it’s in time.”
Grace finished her coffee. “Well, I have to get to work. The delivery lorry will be here soon, and there’s a shed load of orders to do, as well. Want to give me a hand?”
“Seem to remember saying I don’t know how to arrange flowers.” She winked. “You may run a successful florist business, but…”
“Oh, pfft woman. It’s easy.” Grace paused. “Well, it wasn’t at first, but if I can learn to do it, so can you, sis.”
Faith gave in, before Grace wore her down. It was a habit. Giving in meant she didn’t get hurt. “OK. I’ll come over after I’ve seen Joel and given him these.”
She gathered the folder of pictures and headed next door, her heart leaping at the thought of seeing Joel again and speaking to him.
Elliott opened the door. “Morning, Faith.”
“Hi,” she said, covering her disappointment. “Is Joel in?”
“He’s in the shower. He won’t be long if you want to come in and wait.”
“No, it’s fine. Can I leave these here for him?” She held out the folder. “Tell him I said hi, though. I’m helping Grace in the shop today.”
Elliott grinned. “That will be four coffees, then.”
Faith laughed. “Yeah, she said you were the tea-boy. See you later.” She handed over the folder and went across to the shop to help Grace. Selling flowers would be a welcome relief from painting. Even if she didn’t know the first thing about them.
~*~
Clad only in slacks, Joel leaned on the sink and stared in the mirror. He knew by the amount of times people asked him if he was OK that he looked as bad as he felt. He just hadn’t realized how gaunt he actually appeared. He splashed water on his face, as the front door closed. He opened the bathroom door as Elliott walked past. “Who was that?”
“Faith left these for you.” Elliott waved a folder. “She’s finished.”
“Already?” Joel grabbed the towel and dried off quickly, excitement filling him.
“She also said hi. She’s over the road helping Grace this morning.”
He slung the towel to one side and slid into his shirt, before he took the folder. He flicked through it, padding barefoot after his brother to the kitchen. His eyes burned with the tears that seemed to haunt him constantly these days. “Wow. These pictures are perfect.”
Elliott looked over his shoulder. “They’re amazing.”
“I should go and thank her.” He set the folder on the table and headed to the door.
“Joel, button your shirt and put something on your feet, first.” There was a hint of amusement in his brother’s voice. “You can’t walk into a florist dressed like that.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” He slid into his shoes and fastened his buttons, before grabbing his keys. He left the house, and ran across the road to the florist. The bell above the door tinkled as he pushed it open.
Mandy looked up. “Grace is out the back, Mr. Wallac.”
Joel winked. She’d confused him for his twin brother again. “I’ll go find her.” He headed around the counter to the back of the building.
Grace glanced at him as he came into the kitchen. “Hi Joel. I’ll be out the front if you need anything.” Sh
e took the order book and headed out front.
“Tactfully done, sis,” Faith called after her.
Grace laughed and shut the door behind her.
Faith turned to him.
Joel knew from the way she looked at him she was concerned by his appearance. He prayed she wouldn’t say anything. “The pictures are amazing. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. Think I set a new record for painting.” She paused. “Joel, have you eaten?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, before his insane desire to grab hold of her hand took over. Tempted for an instant to lie, he opted for the truth. He hated lies. He wasn’t about to start now. “Not today. Actually not in several days, well, not properly.”
“Well, you should.” Her voice had a light scolding tone to it. “I worked my fingers to the bone for you the last few days and found time to eat. Let me get you something.”
He was hungry, but Joel was torn. He wanted to get to know her better, but Bradley— “I’m afraid I don’t have time. I’m needed in Oxford.”
“Not even a few minutes? Beans on toast and coffee—something quick and simple.”
“I—”
She overrode over his objections, and took hold of his arm, steering him to the door. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Ten minutes won’t hurt you. Certainly can’t make you worse.”
Joel sighed. “OK, just ten minutes. Then, I really need to head to Oxford.” Her touch burned through his clothes sending rivers of fire and need through him. It had been years since anyone showed him any kind of affection. Was this purely a reaction to that and nothing more? Something nagged at him telling him it was deeper. But he didn’t have time for deeper. He barely had time for coffee.
Faith led him through the shop. “Going to yours for a few, Grace. I’ll be back.”
Joel ate the beans on toast, not really tasting it. He couldn’t remember the last hot meal he’d eaten or even the last time he’d sat to eat at all. Between the pretty woman opposite him and the grief weighing on his mind, he couldn’t even enjoy this one.
“Looks like you needed that.” Faith’s voice cut into his thoughts.
He looked up. He could get lost in those sparkling brown eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed them before? “Like I said, it’s been a while. I can’t thank you enough for doing those paintings. I’ll drop them off on my way to Oxford.”
Her smile lit her face, making her eyes glow. “You’re welcome.” Her perfectly manicured finger tips ran over his hand.
Joel sat there for a moment, feeling guilty for the warmth spreading through him, the way his heart pounded and senses flared at her touch. Her perfume filled his senses and all he was aware of was Faith. His phone rang, snapping him back to reality. Straightening up, he pulled it out of his pocket. “Excuse me. Hello?”
“Mr. Wallac, its Therese from ITU...” His heart froze as she spoke. “I think you should be here. Bradley crashed, we got him back, but—”
The bottom fell out of his world, his throat tight, and his heart threatening to burst from his chest. Somehow he kept his voice level. “I’m on my way.” He looked at Faith. “I have to go. I’m sorry. It’s the hospital. Bradley’s…he’s not doing so well. They need me there now.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. Can you get the pictures to the publisher?” He pulled a card from his wallet. “This is the address. They’re in the kitchen…you’ll need a key…”
“Grace has one I can use. Go. I’ll let Elliott and Grace know where you are.”
“Thanks.” Joel stood and ran to the car. Why had he gone against his better judgment and not gone straight back to the hospital? He drove fast, praying the whole journey that he’d get there in time.
Having set a personal best time of an hour and fifteen minutes, Joel gowned, masked and entered ITU to find an army of doctors standing around the bed. The monitors beeped erratically. Joel ignored them and took his son’s hand. He shuddered inside. All the bandages were off now, Bradley’s burned body open to the air. Tears ran slowly down his face. “I’m here,” he whispered. “Everything’s OK now, Bradley. Daddy’s here.”
Dr. Brock’s voice hung in the air. “Bradley’s body is shutting down. His systems are failing one by one. We spoke when he was admitted about choices and the decisions you’d need to make. The time has come to make that call.”
Joel looked up, his heart breaking as he made the hardest decision he’d have to make in his life. He couldn’t let his son suffer anymore. Lord, he’s Your child, too, I just borrowed him for a little while. I know it’s time to give him back, to let him run and play in heaven. Thank You for the time You gave me with him, but I can’t bear to watch him suffer any longer. Take him home.
“That isn’t fair on him. It’s time to—” His voice wavered and broke. “—let him go.”
He looked down at his son as the doctor reached out and turned off all the machines. Joel began to recite the prayer he’d taught Bradley when he was a baby. He struggled to get the words past the lump in his throat. “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, look upon a little child...”
The alarms went off. Joel glanced up as every single line on the monitor flat-lined.
Tears streaming, his voice cracking, he continued praying. “Pity my simplicity. Suffer me to come to Thee...”
~*~
Joel sat on the bench in the darkness. He turned the phone over and over in his hands. Tears ran unabated down his face, his whole body numb with grief. Slowly, he dialed. The phone was answered quickly despite the late hour. Had she been waiting for his call? “Hi Faith, it’s Joel. Sorry it’s late, but…”
“It’s fine, Joel. Elliott told us. I’m so sorry. How are you doing?”
“I’m…” Joel bit his bottom lip, trying to find the words. “He…uh…he died just after I got there.” He broke off, trying to swallow the huge sob that threatened to choke him.
“Where are you?”
“Victoria Park. I couldn’t face going home. El was here for a bit, but he has to work early tomorrow. He also wanted to see Grace before he turned in for the night.”
“He’s still here. He’s sitting in the lounge with her. Stay where you are and I’ll be right there.”
The phone went dead in his hand, and he let it fall. He watched the swings and roundabout, seeing Bradley playing on them. Then Faith was there, her arms going around him, her perfume filling his senses, and he clung to her and cried for all he had lost.
4
A week passed. Faith tried to work on her new contracts. She had four covers to do, including the cover for Joel’s new Dirk Shepherd book. She’d done that one first, but couldn’t get Joel out of her mind. There was something about him that stirred her, making her want to see him again. She tried to convince herself it was mere infatuation. They’d spent part of each day together, walking Patches both morning and evening.
Faith studied the cover she’d just finished and laughed. It was Joel. His image teased her, as it wasn’t what she should have drawn at all. The spec called for a blonde cowboy, hat tipped on his forehead with a seductive smile, not a dark-haired man with a depth of sadness in his eyes. She’d give him that one when he came over for dinner that evening with Elliott. She and Grace decided that way both brothers would eat properly for once.
He took the picture when he arrived and smiled. “Thanks, I think.”
Elliott grinned. “Great likeness. Hey, if the writing ever dries up, you can make a living as a cowboy.”
Joel pulled a face. “Not that fond of cows, but thanks for the thought.” He tucked the picture into his jacket, then hung it in the hall. “Something smells good.”
“It should be,” Grace said, heading back to the kitchen. “Someone’s been slaving over a hot stove all afternoon. And it wasn’t me.”
Joel looked at Faith. “You cooked?”
She tilted her head. “Well, it was either me, Patches or the house elf. And as the elf is on strike and Patches i
s a rubbish cook, then yeah, it was me. Just hope it tastes as good as it smells.”
Dinner was spent lost in his eyes. She took in every move of his hands and angle of his head and the light in his eyes. She could tell Grace was amused by this, and spent a vast amount of time kicking her sister under the table to prevent her from commenting on it.
Grace returned the kicks with interest.
“That was wonderful. Thank you.” Joel grinned at Faith over the coffee. “Answer me something though. Do I have a rival for your attention?”
“A rival?” She looked at him curiously. Surely he didn’t mean Grace and their game of footsy.
“There’s a red car stalking you. It’s parked outside your house again.”
“Not a rival; just a secret admirer who can’t take no for an answer.” She laughed, trying to put him off the scent. Rick had arranged for a car to pass the house and park outside periodically. She’d agreed, and not just for her peace of mind or to shut Rick up.
If Damien found her, Grace was at risk, too. And she didn’t want that. Any sign of trouble and she’d pack and leave, this time not asking for help or telling anyone. She’d just go.
Joel didn’t drop it. “Would you like me to go outside and tell him you’re spoken for?”
“And just who is this person who’s speaking for me?”
“Well.” Joel paused, his eyes twinkling at her. “You’re fun to be with, not to mention great company and a great cook. You’ve made one of the worst weeks of my life more bearable.”
Faith laughed. “For an author you’re making a real hash of this.”
Joel reached out and took her hand. His fingers moved gently over it. “Maybe so but I really like being with you. I want to spend more time with you.”
She hesitated. He wasn’t thinking straight, surely? He was grief stricken, his mind and his judgment clouded. The last thing she wanted was to play on that and make him think she was interested. She was, but this wasn’t the time to forge a relationship, no matter how much her heart raced at his touch. It wouldn’t be safe for either of them.
