“You’re soaked through. What did you do—walk all the way from South America?” she scolded, her voice bright and brittle. “Get that coat off before you catch pneumonia.”
Gage shrugged out of his denim jacket, letting her take it from him and put it on a hanger from the coat closet.
“I’ll hang this in the bathroom to dry.”
“Thanks.”
She’d lost weight, he thought, watching her walk away. She hadn’t had it to lose. She looked fragile, breakable as a china figurine. And just about as brittle, he thought as she walked back down the hall toward him.
“How was your trip?” she asked as if there was nothing to differentiate this visit from any other he’d made. Her mouth was curved in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“It was fine. I’d have been here sooner but I didn’t get the news about—”
“Your shirt’s a little damp,” Kelsey interrupted him. She reached out to pat the sleeve of his light cotton shirt as if confirming its dampness, but Gage thought there was a plea in the nervous little gesture. “Would you like something to change into?”
One of Rick’s shirts?
“No!” He drew a deep breath and forced himself to repeat the word with less force. “No, thanks. I won’t melt.”
“I didn’t think you would.” She gave him another of those quick, meaningless smiles. “How about some coffee? And I baked cookies this morning—chocolate chip. One of your favorites, if I remember right.”
“Kelsey—”
“There’s some cake if you don’t want cookies.”
“I don’t—”
“Or I could make you a sandwich.” Her hands twisted together in front of her, her eyes shifting uneasily from his face to a point somewhere past his shoulder. “Did they feed you on the plane? Even if they did, it probably wasn’t very good. You must be starving. I’ll make—”
“Kelsey.” Gage reached out to catch her hands, stilling their frantic movements. He ignored her compulsive move to pull away. “I’m not hungry.”
“You’d probably like something hot,” she said as if he hadn’t spoken. “I made soup last night, and there’s plenty left over. I cooked too much. You know I always cook like I’m feeding an army.”
“Kelsey.” Gage tightened his grip on her fingers, willing her to look at him. “I didn’t fly six thousand miles to get a hot meal.”
“I know.” There was a pause, and then she finally lifted her eyes to his, letting him see the raw pain. When she spoke, it was in broken little half sentences, her voice nearly cracking on every word. “I know you didn’t. It’s just that...I’m not sure I can...” She stopped and closed her eyes. “It hurts so much,” she whispered finally.
Something hard and painful twisted inside him. He released her hands and put his arms around her, drawing her against him.
“I know.”
Kelsey let her head rest against Gage’s chest. For the first time in over a month, she let herself lean on someone else, let his strength shore her up, emotionally as well as physically. Gage was here. She didn’t have to be quite so strong anymore.
She felt hard-held walls tremble inside her, threatening to give way. She’d built those walls deliberately, needing them to hold back the pain and the fear that had nearly overwhelmed her in those first dark hours after she’d learned that Rick was gone.
Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she forced them away. If she started crying now, she didn’t know if she’d ever stop. With a sound that hovered perilously close to a sob, she drew away, forcing a shaky half smile as she looked up at him.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’d have been here sooner, but it took a while to get word to me and then it took another week for me to get to an airport.”
“I didn’t know how to get hold of you, but I knew Cole would.”
Cole was Gage’s younger brother. He’d known Rick and Kelsey on a casual basis.
“He got a message to me but it took a while. I’m sorry I wasn’t here right away.” His blue eyes were dark with worry.
“There wasn’t anything you could have done.” Kelsey pushed a lock of pale gold hair back from her face, trying to look as if she didn’t want to collapse in a sobbing heap at his feet. “There wasn’t anything anyone could do,” she said, shrugging a little.
“What happened? Cole’s message said it was a car accident.”
“Yes.” Kelsey shivered a little, and Gage immediately apologized for the question.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” he said quickly.
“No, that’s okay.” Kelsey ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “Why don’t we go in the kitchen and I’ll make some coffee.”
“Where’s Danny?” he asked as he followed her into the big kitchen.
“I put him down for a nap a few minutes ago. With luck, he’ll sleep for another hour or so. You won’t believe how much he’s grown since Thanksgiving.” For the first time, her smile was genuine. Her son was the only bright spot in her life, the only thing keeping her sane.
Gage leaned one hip against the oak counter. She felt him watching her as she got out the coffee and measured it into the filter. That was one of the things that always surprised her about him—his ability to let a silence stretch. Rick hated silences—had hated, she corrected herself painfully.
“How’s Danny doing?”
“Better than I am.” She understood that he was asking after more than his godson’s physical well-being. She shrugged a little as she poured water into the coffeemaker and turned it on. “He’s too young to understand what’s going on. He misses R-Rick.” She stumbled a little over the name but recovered and went on, her voice steady. “But it’s been over a month, and that’s a long time when you’re not quite two. I’ve tried not to let him see how upset I am, tried to keep everything as normal as possible for him. I think he’s doing all right.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“I hope so.” Kelsey sighed and looked around the kitchen, feeling a little lost without something to occupy her hands. She’d discovered that if she just kept busy enough, she didn’t have time to think as much. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? I’ve been doing a lot of cooking lately, and there’s plenty of leftovers.”
Gage wasn’t interested in food but he guessed that she needed something to do so he nodded. “A bowl of soup sounds great,” he lied. “They fed us a dry sandwich somewhere over Omaha, but that was a long time ago.”
“I’ll put some on to heat.” Kelsey opened the refrigerator and pulled out a square plastic container.
Gage watched her move around the kitchen, getting out a pan and pouring the soup into it. Memories teased the corners of his mind—of other times when he’d sat at the oak table that dominated one end of the big room and watched Kelsey cook; of Rick’s teasing her about buying the house because of the kitchen and the fact that it sat on an acre of land. The decrepit condition of the house was the only reason they’d been able to buy it. Kelsey had been left a sizable chunk of money by her grandmother, which had enabled them to make the down payment. Should have been enough to buy a small town, Rick had groused, not one falling-down house on an acre of overgrown land.
“It’s a good area. Land this close to Solvang is expensive,” Kelsey told him.
“The roof leaks like a sieve, every window is cracked or broken and it looks like a family of gorillas has been living in it for the past fifteen years. But Kelsey likes the kitchen and she wants the land.” Rick rolled his eyes in Gage’s direction.
“Roofs and windows can be fixed,” Kelsey answered serenely. “Why do you think I married you?”
Rick gave her an affronted look. “I thought you loved me for my mind.”
“It’s a perfectly nice mind,” she assured him, patting his hand in a kindly way. “But I like your strong back and ability to swing a hammer even more.”
“Do you see what a heartless woman I married?” Rick asked Gage.
“I’ve always admired practicality in a woman,” Gage said with a grin.
“How are you at putting on roofs?” Kelsey asked, eyeing him speculatively.
Gage shook the memory away. That had been the first summer after Kelsey and Rick were married. Gage had had two months between jobs and he’d spent most of that time putting a new roof on this house.
Kelsey set the soup on the stove and then got two coffee mugs. She pulled the pot out before the coffee had finished dripping, and drops of liquid sizzled on the burner as she filled the mugs. She slid the pot back into place and then carried the mugs to the table. Gage sat down across from her, cupping his hand around the thick china, feeling the warmth of it against his palm, wishing it could drive out the chill he felt deep inside. They sat without speaking for a few minutes, only the steady drip of the coffeemaker and the almost inaudible hiss of the rain outside breaking the silence.
“Rick had gone to Los Angeles,” Kelsey said abruptly as if no time had passed between his question and her answer. “He had a client there who needed to meet with him after work. He bought Rick dinner and they worked late. Rick called me around nine. He...told me not to wait up for him.”
She paused to regain control of her voice. When she continued, her tone was flat, emotionless, as if she were reciting something that had happened to someone else. In an odd way she felt as if it had. She’d gone over the facts in her mind a thousand times but she could never quite connect them to Rick.
“I went to bed. It was about five o’clock in the morning when the police came. They said he was coming up the Pacific Coast Highway. It was raining. They think he might have braked for an animal that ran across the road. The car went off the road. It was in a place where there was a drop to the beach. The car hit some rocks.... He was killed instantly.”
Her fingers gripped the coffee mug with white-knuckled force, belying the calm of her recitation. Gage stared at the tabletop, searching for something to say and finding his mind blank of everything but denial. He simply couldn’t equate the story she’d just told him with Rick. Not his best friend, not the man who’d been as close to him as any of his brothers.
“I know it’s hard to take in,” Kelsey said. She reached across the table to touch the back of his hand. Gage lifted his eyes to her face and realized that she was trying to comfort him.
He shifted his hand to hold hers. “All the way home, I kept hoping I’d get here and find out that it was all a mistake, that Cole had gotten it wrong.”
“Every morning, when I wake up, there’s a few seconds where I think it’s all a horrible nightmare,” Kelsey whispered, staring at their joined hands.
They sat without speaking, linked by the touch of their hands, linked by their grief. Gage didn’t know how much time passed before the rattle of the lid on the soup pan broke the silence.
“Your soup’s hot,” Kelsey said, relieved to have a distraction.
While Gage ate soup he didn’t want, they talked of trivial things, avoiding, by unspoken agreement, the topic uppermost in both their minds. There didn’t really seem to be anything else to say. Rick was gone, and both their lives were forever changed.
* * *
Gage woke from a restless sleep, aware that something was not right. He hadn’t been sleeping well, but it wasn’t because it was a strange bed. He’d stayed with Rick and Kelsey before, which made this bed as familiar as any. Because his work as a structural engineer kept him out of the country most of the time, he’d never bothered to establish a home base and he’d learned to sleep anywhere, including a lot of places where a bed was an unheard-of luxury.
Kelsey had insisted that he stay in the guest room, just as he usually did, but this was one time when familiarity was not a comfort. His mind had churned with thoughts of how much everything had changed since he’d last slept in this room. It had been after midnight when he dozed off, and a glance at the clock told him that it was almost two o’clock now.
He lay in the narrow bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling, trying to place what had awakened him. Had it been a sound? Maybe little Danny was awake and not happy about it. If that was it, perhaps he could deal with whatever the boy’s problem was before he woke Kelsey. It was doubtful that she’d been getting much sleep lately.
Gage swung his legs out of bed, reaching for the jeans he’d draped over the foot of the bed. Out of habit, he shook them out before stepping into them. Years of working in less hospitable climates had taught him to be wary of multilegged creatures who might find his clothing an inviting vacation spot. The rasp of the zipper sounded loud. The house was so quiet now that he wondered if he’d imagined the sound that had awakened him. But he was awake now and he might as well investigate. On his way out of the room, he tugged on a flannel shirt.
Barefoot, he padded down the hallway to Danny’s room. Easing open the door, he stepped inside and walked silently over to the crib. Whatever had awakened him, it obviously hadn’t been Danny. The boy slept with the sweet abandon of childhood, flat on his back, arms flung out to his sides, eyes scrunched shut, his mouth slightly open.
Smiling a little, Gage reached down and tugged loose the cartoon-printed blanket that was twisted beneath Danny’s small body. He eased it up over the child and then reached out to smooth a lock of white gold hair back from the boy’s forehead.
He’d been in California when Daniel was born and he’d never forgotten the way he’d felt when Rick had asked him to be godfather to the tiny newborn—elation and panic in equal measure. He’d tried to refuse.
“I can’t.” Gage looked at Rick as if he’d grown a second head.
“Sure you can,” Rick said firmly.
“There’s no one else we’d rather have,” Kelsey added.
Gage transferred his panicked gaze to her. She sat on the sofa, holding her son. Ridiculous, Gage thought, letting something that small out of the hospital. Not to mention letting Kelsey come home the day after giving birth. Surely it couldn’t be good for her to be out of bed so soon. Why hadn’t Rick insisted she stay in the hospital or at least stay in bed for a week or two? But then, obviously Rick had lost his mind or he wouldn’t have suggested something as crazy as this.
“I can’t,” Gage said again. He looked at Rick, his eyes demanding an end to this scene. Rick was one of the few people who knew the truth. He should understand how impossible this was. But there was no yielding in his friend’s eyes.
“Give it up, buddy. You’re going to be a godfather, whether you like it or not.”
“There are people better suited to the responsibility,” Gage said, trying to sound casual. Was it possible that Rick had forgotten? That he didn’t remember why Gage was the last person on earth he should ask to be a godfather to his son?
“No, there isn’t,” Kelsey said firmly. She stood up, and it was all Gage could do to keep from demanding that she sit down—that she lie down, for God’s sake. She closed the small distance between them and looked up at him with those clear gray eyes that always seemed to see so much more than they should. “Gage Walker, meet your godson.”
She held out the blanket-wrapped bundle, and Gage took it from her before he had a chance to realize what he was doing. He would have thrust the baby back immediately, but she foiled his intention by returning to her seat on the sofa.
Against his will, Gage looked down at the baby. Daniel Richard Jackson was asleep, his face screwed up in that peculiarly intense expression of newborns, as if life, even sleeping, required all his concentration.
Gage shifted his hold, automatically cradling the tiny body in the crook of his arm. It had been years since he held a baby. Not since—his thoughts shied away from the last time he’d held a baby. He didn’t want to think about that.
Godfather. The word seemed to carry a huge burden of responsibility. Maybe it didn’t mean what it had in times past, but he knew, if he agreed to the title, he’d feel obliged to assume the responsibilities that went with it. And Rick knew it, too, damn him. Knew, a
s well, that there was no way that Gage could turn him down. Double damn him.
As if sensing his friend’s capitulation, Rick laughed.
“Hey, don’t look so glum. It isn’t like I’m going to keel over and leave you to raise my kid.” He grinned, his eyes holding understanding and a trace of laughter. He knew exactly what was going through Gage’s mind and he was making it clear that he wasn’t going to let Gage off the hook. “I have every intention of being around for a very long time.”
The memory brought a bittersweet edge to Gage’s smile. Would Rick have been so blasé about choosing his son’s godfather if he’d been able to see into the future and know that he wasn’t going to be around; that Danny was going to need someone to provide more than an occasional birthday present and a pat on the head?
“Dammit, Rick, you should have thought about this,” Gage whispered, his eyes on the sleeping child. “You knew better than anyone what a lousy choice I was. Why didn’t you choose someone else?”
There was no answer, only the soft hiss of the rain falling outside. And underlying that, a repetition of the sound that had awakened him. This time he recognized it for what it was. With a quick glance at Danny, Gage left the bedroom, pulling the door almost shut behind him. He hesitated in the hallway. Maybe he should just go back to bed and pretend he hadn’t heard anything.
Even as the thought occurred to him, he knew he couldn’t do it. He could no more walk away from the sound of Kelsey crying than he could leap tall buildings in a single bound. With a muttered prayer that he wasn’t making a mistake, he turned toward the front of the house.
Gage paused in the doorway of the living room, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Kelsey was sitting on one end of the sofa, her arms wrapped around her knees and her face buried in the pale blue flannel of her robe as if to muffle her sobs.
“Kelsey.” He spoke her name quietly, but her body jerked as if he’d shouted. She lifted her head from her knees but didn’t look in his direction.
“Gage! Did I...did I wake you?” Her breath hitched in the middle of the question. “I’m sorry.”
Another Man's Wife Page 2
