by Cara Colter
The courageous thing to do would be to tell her good-bye.
But he didn’t feel courageous. This house, and
Gracie, had been chipping away at his armor.
And he felt, without his really being aware, he had been stripped of it completely.
He wanted to hold her, just like this, for as long as he could make this moment last.
But he of all people should know that moments like this one, filled with unearthly quiet, moments of nothing that held everything, were way too rare.
And always brief.
And the calm before the storm was called that for a reason. There was always a storm.
And it came.
They heard the truck coming from a long way off, the boom-boom of the untuned diesel engine, the shriek of a corner taken too fast.
They were both up and at her window when Serenity’s
very distinctive truck veered in behind his own, jumped the curb and came to rest in the very center of Grace’s front lawn.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“IF she’s driving like that with the kid in there with her—” Rory didn’t finish the sentence, and he didn’t have to. He bolted for the front door and went out, bypassing her front staircase in a single leap. Grace was hard on his heels.
He arrived on the passenger side of the truck, its engine off but the headlights eerily illuminating the yard while making it impossible to see the vehicle’s interior.
Rory yanked open the passenger door. Serenity must have been leaning hard against it, because she didn’t so much fall as spill out. Despite his surprise, Rory dived and managed to catch her before she hit the ground.
He straightened, staring down at the woman in his arms, shocked to find her there, more shocked by her slightness. Holding Serenity was like holding a wounded sparrow.
Her body was completely limp, and there was no warmth to it. She was unnaturally pale. When he bent and put his nose close to her slightly parted lips there was no smell of alcohol, but she was barely breathing.
He glanced up. “What the hell?”
It was Tucker, wide-eyed with fear, behind the wheel of the truck. Astonished, Rory saw the boy had used duct tape to fasten blocks of wood to the brake, gas and clutch pedals. Ingenious? Or not the first time he had driven the huge vehicle?
“My mama’s so sick,” Tucker said, his voice choked with fear. “I didn’t know what to do. We don’t have a phone.”
“You did exactly the right thing,” Rory said. “Come on. Get out of the truck. Grace, start your car. We’re going to the hospital.”
“Mama said no,” Tucker said plaintively. “We ain’t got no money. We don’t have no medical insurance.”
“I’ll look after it,” Rory said, adjusting the slight weight he carried, moving toward where Grace had her vehicle going. He glanced over his shoulder.
The boy looked at him suspiciously, and then he drew in a deep breath, and his face crumpled. He hid his face in his shirtsleeve.
Rory knew by pure instinct that he could not acknowledge those tears from a boy who had probably spent his whole life trying to be tough and hard and strong.
“Go get in Grace’s car, now. Your mama’s going to be okay,” Rory said. Of course, he had no idea if that was true, but he knew he had to be both calm and firm.
He was a man who could claim a lot of experience dealing with men who were young and who were frightened. Maybe not this young and maybe not this frightened, but it was all the same thing.
He could not show a flicker of doubt, even if, feeling Serenity’s limp form in his arms as he went to Grace’s car and got in the backseat, that’s exactly what he felt.
Grace was already in the driver’s seat, and she glanced back at him, and he saw something in her face. That she was counting on him, too, to somehow make this all right. The truth? He did not want to be counted on to be anyone’s hero.
And yet, at the very same time, a man could come to live for the look on Gracie’s face.
* * *
All night, Grace had felt herself falling.
Falling for Rory Adams.
All over again. Just as she had been foolish enough to do at fourteen.
The sensation of falling had only increased when he had told her about her brother, when she had sensed the enormous burden he had shouldered by himself for way, way too long.
Now that sensation increased again as Grace watched Rory in the emergency room of the hospital. It was obvious he had become an expert on crisis. His demeanor was one of complete calm.
The emergency room unnerved her. She could hear a child wailing, a man in a chair in the waiting room had blood seeping through the white dressing that was wrapped around his head. A mother paced and made reassuring noises to the quiet baby in her arms. A woman slept in one of the chairs, oblivious to the drama around her.
But Rory, his hands full of Serenity, was not distracted. He paused only for a moment in the doorway, scanning, and he seemed to know by pure instinct where to go and who was in charge. He found a nurse, followed her through swinging doors that said No Admittance. Tucker followed.
That left Grace to deal with the thorny issue of admittance. Beyond Serenity’s name Grace knew little about her.
But after a while Rory was back at her side, Tucker stuck to him like an orphaned pup looking for a pack leader.
Between him and Tucker they were able to provide the admitting clerk with Serenity’s birth date and some other basic information.
When the question of health insurance came up, Rory didn’t even hesitate. He guaranteed payment and backed it up with a credit card that made the admitting clerk raise her eyebrows.
Finally, he led Tucker to one of those hard plastic chairs, sat him down, went to a vending machine and got him a soda and some potato chips.
Grace and Rory both watched as the boy wolfed down the food.
“When do you think he ate last?” Grace asked.
“Don’t ask,” Rory said, nudging her. They moved away from him a bit.
“They’re going to have to admit Serenity,” he said. “What are we going to do about him?”
We.
Even in this chaotic, somewhat frightening situation, she allowed herself to savor that.
We. As if they were a team. And if she were on a team? Wouldn’t she pick his? He was a leader. He could be counted on to make hard decisions in difficult circumstances.
He was the kind of man everyone wanted on their side when the chips were down. If you were in a hotel that was on fire and saw him coming through the smoke, you would know you were going to be okay. If you were on a ship that was going down in rough seas, he was the one you would follow to the life raft.
And he knew he was that kind of man, so no wonder he felt so acutely responsible for Graham’s death.
And so it was time for her not to let him take the lead, not to accept him taking full responsibility. She had to be worthy of him.
And that meant she had to be as strong as he was, as responsible for the decision-making process.
“What do you mean what are we going to do about him?” she asked.
“I think we should call the authorities,” he said in a low tone.
“The authorities? No.” She said it firmly, his equal.
Something in her tone made Tucker look up from licking salt and chip crumbs off his fingers. He regarded them both with deep wariness.
“Shh. If he catches wind that we’re going to turn him over, he’ll run like a rabbit.”
“Well, we aren’t turning him over,” she said, stubbornly. The problem with these alpha types? They always thought they knew what was right. They relied only on themselves.
It was too lonely. She was not going to let Rory be that lone
ly anymore.
“Look, you can’t just take somebody’s kid because you want to. It’s not like we’re his family.”
“We don’t know that yet. I might be his aunt.”
“That’s a big might.”
“Let’s just ask him if he has anyone we can call for him,” she asked, hearing the leadership in her voice.
Rory looked doubtful. “If he had anyone to call I don’t think he would have driven a truck that he couldn’t even reach the pedals on to your place in the middle of the night and parked in the middle of your lawn.”
“I am not sending him with strangers.”
“Grace, we’re practically strangers to him.”
A nurse came out and beckoned to Rory. She was young and extraordinarily beautiful, despite a certain no-nonsense look about her. Grace could not help but notice the respect shown to Rory. It was as if people who dealt in crisis recognized each other, belonged to a secret club.
The nurse put her hand on Rory’s arm.
Grace felt a little shiver of shocking jealousy, though the gesture was no more than casual contact.
Still, she felt herself bracing for his reaction. Despite the situation, would he wink? Smile that disarming smile? Touch her back ever so lightly?
But Rory did not reciprocate in any way. If he had noticed the beauty of the nurse it did not show. In fact, with a slightly curt nod, he slid his arm out from under the nurse’s touch and came to Grace.
“They are admitting Serenity,” he said in an undertone. “They have no idea what’s wrong. She’s in and out of consciousness, not well enough to give them any clues.”
“I’ll tell him,” Grace said, and went to Tucker. She squatted on her heels, not wanting to intimidate him by looking down at him.
“Hey, buddy,” Grace said quietly. She saw he didn’t like her calling him buddy.
In her peripheral vision she was aware of Rory standing close, waiting to take it if she needed him to, but letting her have the lead.
She was not quite sure what she had done to earn Tucker’s animosity, but it made her aware they were strangers, that maybe Rory was right. There were people trained to deal with these situations.
But this child, this frightened, hungry, brave little boy might be Graham’s. She might be his aunt. She could not abandon him. She could not. He, a little boy, had driven a truck, that he had no business driving, to her house. Trusting her, overcoming his mystifying dislike, believing she would do the right thing by him and his mother.
“They’re going to keep your mom here for a while,” she said.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s in very good hands. They’ll look after her.”
Tucker looked at her, searching her face for truth. She could tell he was trying very hard not to cry, “What do you want to do, Tucker?”
He looked suddenly frail and exhausted. “I gotta look after the ponies. They never got fed tonight.”
The answer nearly broke her heart. So small, so much weight on his shoulders.
“I’ll look after them,” Rory said. “I think you should go with Grace. She’s got a spare room. You can stay with her tonight and we’ll see how your mom is doing in the morning.”
“You don’t know nothing about looking after ponies,” Tucker said, managing a note of scornful pride despite his fear and exhaustion. “And I’m coming back here after, to be with my mama.”
“How about Slim McKenzie?” Rory said, down on his heels now, too, not missing a beat. “Would you trust him to look after your ponies?”
Something shifted in Tucker’s face at the mention of Slim.
“Yeah, Slim could do it. And then I could stay here with my mom.”
“Here’s the thing, Tucker,” Rory said, his voice tempered with the most exquisite patience, “I don’t think they’re going to let you stay with your mom. But I’ll give you my cell phone, and I’ll tell that nurse over there you’re going to be checking in, all night long if you want to. Is that okay?”
“I don’t want to stay with her,” Tucker said, jerking his chin at Grace.
Again, Grace wondered what she had done to deserve his animosity, tried not to take it personally.
“If you don’t want to stay with me, I’m sure you can stay with Rory,” she said soothingly.
Rory glared at her, came off his heels and took her elbow. He took her off a bit from where Tucker was watching them. “No. That’s just weird. Men do not take little boys they don’t know home with them.”
“I’ll come, too, then.” She could feel it again. Doing this with him. Not leaving him to the loneliness of making every decision by himself, being so responsible. “Do you have two spare rooms?”
“Unfortunately. Why do I have the feeling you’re going to get us all arrested? Or leave us wide open to being blackmailed by Serenity?”
“I think she’ll be nothing but appreciative.”
He snorted, but if she was not mistaken, he was taking to the novelty of having someone share the decision-making process with him.
“Unless you have a better idea?”
But he didn’t. Still glaring at her, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket. “Slim. Sorry. I know it’s late. I have a bit of an emergency I need your help with.” He outlined it, listened to Slim’s calm reply. “Thanks. Okay. Ponies looked after. Let’s go.”
And that’s how Grace found herself at Rory Adams’s super-posh bachelor pad in a condo on the shores of Lake Okanagan.
“Wow,” Tucker said from the backseat when they drove up to the building. “You’re rich.”
“Don’t tell your mother,” Rory muttered under his breath, and Grace gave him a little kick.
They got out of her car, and she tried not to be too overawed by the building. She dealt with wealthy people all the time. But still, this was probably the most sought-after address in the entire Okanagan Valley.
The Monashee was an exclusive building engineered right into a cliff that overlooked the night-blackened and restless waters of the lake. They pulled up at the front entrance; the building looked like ten stories of nothing but glass.
“Holy…” Tucker said, getting out of the car and staring up at the architecture. The holy was then followed by a word that shocked Grace, not because she had never heard the word before, but because she had never heard it come from a seven-year-old boy!
“You don’t say that word in front of a lady,” Rory said, but without heat, without that kind of frightening firmness he had shown those teenage boys on the float. It was obvious Tucker was beyond exhaustion, and Grace appreciated Rory for knowing intuitively how to deal with him.
A valet came and took her car, and Rory ushered them through a lobby that reminded Grace of a very expensive hotel. Deep leather couches sat on handwoven Armenian carpets on highly polished marble floors. A black granite wall had water sliding silently down it.
They got on an elevator that opened directly into Rory’s apartment.
It was an open space, but as different from hers as a camel was different from a kangaroo. Everything was muted opulence: white sleek furniture, Brazilian-cherry flooring, art that was obviously not from the poster bin at the discount store. The entire back wall was a sheet of glass that overlooked the lake.
“Holy…” Tucker said again, but this time, with a glance at Rory, excluded the second word.
“Do you want something to eat?” Rory asked.
The little boy contemplated this, but then shook his head. Rory showed them through to a guest wing: two beautiful bedrooms that shared one extraordinarily glamorous bathroom.
Within minutes, without even taking off his clothes, Rory’s cell phone in his hand with the hospital on speed dial, Tucker was fast asleep in between pure-silk sheets. Unwrapping a toothbrush in the guest bathroom to brush
his teeth seemed to be all he could manage.
Grace gazed at him tenderly for a moment. He looked so small in the huge bed. She resisted the impulse to brush his hair back from his pale forehead and plant a kiss there, and backed out of the room with a whispered good-night.
She recognized her own exhaustion and how vulnerable it made her. When she came out of Tucker’s room and saw Rory silhouetted at his floor-to-ceiling living-room window, she wanted to go to him.
To cast the last of her caution to the wind.
But he sensed she was there and turned to her.
She wanted to say, Come hold me, let’s go back to that moment before that truck ended up parked in my front yard.
Instead she said, “Poor kid was done. He could barely brush his teeth.”
She wanted to comment on the availability of toothbrushes, but suddenly it just seemed like a symbol of all that was different between them.
Who kept a dozen brand-new toothbrushes in the event of unexpected guests, after all?
Exactly the kind of man who lived in a space like this. The kind of man who had nurses touching his arm on the basis of a few seconds acquaintance.
“You must be done in, too.” There was something faintly cold in his voice when he said, “I’ll show you the other guest room.”
And she could understand that completely. She had just hijacked the man’s life. Those spare toothbrushes weren’t for stray little boys, after all.
She had just shown him he didn’t have to be alone with it all.
He needed some distance from that, and so did she.
“Thank you,” she murmured. And she didn’t just mean for the room. No, she meant for letting her look after Tucker.
For letting her have her opportunity to play auntie before all the evidence was in. Though in her heart, she felt she already knew the truth.
* * *
Rory listened to Grace’s bedroom door close and felt as if he had been holding his breath and now it was safe to breathe.
Grace in his space.
When he had seen her coming out of Tucker’s room, he had turned and looked at her, and known how easy it would be to take it a step further.
