What Happens in Charleston...

by Rachel Bailey

  While she continued to sing, albeit in a softer voice, Matt picked his son up, moved him to the center of the bed and pulled the covers over him. This little boy was the most precious thing in his life and it killed him inside that he couldn’t simply kiss him and make him better the way he’d been able to do until now. The doctors weren’t even keen to let him be a donor because of his damn allergy. He brushed the hair off Flynn’s pale face, pulled himself together, then crossed to the other side of the room with Susannah.

  “I just spoke with the doctor,” he said, digging his hands into his pockets. “They expect the results to be here in the morning.”

  Her long lashes swept down and her shoulders stiffened, as if bracing herself for tomorrow’s outcome. “I’ll meet you here first thing. My suitcase is in your car—just drop me at whichever hotel is closest.”

  Matt took a deep breath. The hospitality his mother had taught all her children wouldn’t allow him to take her to a hotel. Not when she’d traveled interstate to help his son. But how comfortable would she be staying in a house alone with a man she barely knew? And should he ask a woman home who, with no effort, had brought his body back to life?

  The most logical answer was to take her to his mother’s house. His mother enjoyed hosting guests and, Pamela, the housekeeper who’d always been so much more, would appreciate having someone else to fuss over.

  But he couldn’t do that.

  His mother—his entire family—believed Grace was Flynn’s biological mother. He couldn’t tell them why Susannah was here, or that she was being tissue matched to the youngest Kincaid.

  When they ran into various members of his family, which they inevitably would if the tissue match was positive and she stayed longer, he’d use a cover story. But running into someone when he was by her side and staying in his mother’s house were two totally different situations. Could he trust Susannah not to slip up under those circumstances? He didn’t know much about her and had no idea how well she lied.

  Best not to put her in a testing situation. Which only left one option.

  He cleared his throat. “You can stay with me.”

  “No, I’ll be fine at a hotel,” she said, waving his suggestion away with a hand. “Honestly.”

  “Nonsense. My mother would be horrified if I made you stay at an impersonal hotel when I have plenty of room.”

  A line appeared between her eyebrows. “I—”

  He rolled his shoulders back, not prepared to negotiate on this point. “I won’t take no as an answer. My sister Kara will be here in about ten minutes to stay with Flynn for the evening, so we’ll go then.”

  Her head tilted to the side. “You have a schedule?”

  “Of course. Flynn is the only grandchild in our family. Everyone is concerned.” It was breaking his heart that he couldn’t be at the hospital full-time, but the family business was in serious trouble, both from lost business and potential hostile maneuverings, and Flynn loved his aunts, uncles and grandmother, so Matt had compromised by sharing the time with his family. From the corner of his eye, he saw his sister already in the anteroom next door, a little early as usual. “Kara made a timetable—her organizational skills are superb. Here she is.”

  The moment Kara stepped into the room, he wrapped her in a bear hug. “Thanks.”

  She held up an overstuffed bag. “We’ll have fun—I made play dough and bought him his own set of highlighters for coloring. Hopefully that means he’ll stop pinching mine.” She grinned.

  He grinned back. He could always count on Kara. “You know you’re my favorite sister.”

  She laughed and rolled her eyes at Susannah. “He says that to all of us.”

  Susannah smiled as she looked back and forth from Kara to him. “How many sisters are there?”

  “Three,” Kara said. “We outnumber the brothers—there are only two of them.”

  As soon as she said it, she stiffened and Matt felt the same tension fill his muscles. There had been two brothers. Until his father’s death, when they found they had a half brother they’d known nothing about. A secret big enough to become a betrayal of the entire family.

  Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he touched a hand to Susannah’s elbow. “Kara, this is Susannah, an old friend of Grace’s.”

  Susannah didn’t flinch at the way he’d introduced her, which he appreciated. He’d have liked to discuss their story before she met any of his family, but fortunately she seemed able to roll with the punches.

  Kara reached out to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Susannah. Are you here to see Flynn?”

  “Yes,” Susannah said, no trace of artifice or nerves. “I was in town and gave Matthew a call. He mentioned Flynn was unwell and I wanted to visit.”

  A warmth glowed in his chest that stemmed from appreciation and respect for her quick thinking.

  “Grace would have liked that,” Kara said.

  “Actually,” Susannah said, “Matthew mentioned that you’d made a schedule to ensure someone is with Flynn. I’ll be here at least a couple of days, maybe longer, depending on how a few things pan out, and I wouldn’t mind helping out if you need someone else.”

  The tight band around his chest constricted. The more time Susannah spent with Flynn, the more his son would become attached—laying the groundwork for a disaster when she left.

  “That would be fabulous,” Kara said. “Nights and weekends are no problem, but sometime during business hours would work well if that suits you? Our mother and Lily are the only ones who can easily arrange their days, so the schedule gets a bit tight then.”

  Matt rubbed the tight muscles at the back of his neck. How could he refuse an offer that would give his family a break? They were all going above and beyond for Flynn and he was more grateful than he could ever say. He dropped his hand from his neck and stuffed it in a pocket. It would only be a few days and he’d talk to Flynn if things got out of hand. He took a small step back to let them make the arrangements.

  “I can start tomorrow,” Susannah said.

  “Great.” Kara pulled an electronic organizer from her bag and began tapping buttons. “Just give me a number I can contact you on.”

  Before Susannah could revisit the idea of staying at a hotel, he cut in. “I’ve invited her to stay at my place while she’s here. You can reach her there.”

  There was a flicker of a question in Kara’s eyes before she seemed to dismiss it. “Perfect, I’ll be in touch. But now, there’s a gorgeous little boy just waking up, so I’d better go over and say hello.”

  Twenty minutes later, after he’d said goodbye to his son, he and Susannah were in his car, on the road to his house.

  He squared his shoulders, ready to open a difficult conversation. “I apologize for lying about your relationship back there.”

  “Matthew,” she said gently, “this is your family, your life—yours and Flynn’s. I’m here to help. You do whatever you need to do and I’ll fit in.”

  He wasn’t used to such unqualified support. Grace had often been quite contrary, and his family was loving but opinionated—everyone having their two cents’ worth at family lunches. Susannah’s willingness to let him choose the path here, without question, was as welcome as it was novel.

  He glanced over—her delicate features were relaxed and open, confirming there was no undercurrent to her words, and he had a feeling that what you saw was what you got with Susannah Parrish. “I appreciate that.”

  “Though, it would help if we talked about it so we’re on the same page.”

  “Agreed,” he said as he smoothly took a corner. “I should have mentioned it before we ran into Kara, but we covered well.”

  “So, I’m an old friend of Grace’s?”

  “It’s not strictly a lie.” He could feel her gaze on him and, after stopping at traffic lights, he turned to her. Her eyes were the blue of a summer’s sky, and just as endless. It was the first thing he’d noticed when she’d approached him in the airport. A man could lo
se himself in eyes like those. He frowned and dragged his gaze back to the red light. “You and Grace spent time together several years ago.”

  “They don’t know anything about Flynn’s surrogate?”

  “They don’t know your name, so my family won’t suspect it’s you. Grace wanted details kept to a minimum since it reminded her too much of what she perceived as her failure.” Nothing he’d said to her had been able to sway her from that assessment of herself. She’d been an excellent mother to Flynn. Genetics paled into insignificance compared to that.

  The light turned green and he smoothly pressed down on the accelerator. “And if we tell them you’re the surrogate, without telling them you’re also the biological mother, they’ll wonder why you’re here since a normal surrogate wouldn’t be needed in this situation.”

  “So we keep it simple?”

  He’d put a lot of thought into this since the moment he’d known he’d have to call her. It was the only plan that seemed reasonable. “It’s our best option.”

  “What if the tissue matching is positive and Flynn needs the transplant? Won’t that make it harder to hide?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge if we have to.” And he was praying like crazy that they never had to. He swallowed hard and his hands gripped the wheel tightly. “But my family—no one—can ever know that Grace isn’t Flynn’s biological mother.”

  He’d made a vow to Grace that he would not break. In fact, he was doubly bound to keep that vow—since he’d as good as killed her by making her take the fatal plane flight, the only means he had left to honor his college sweetheart was to protect her secret. He owed her this, and so much more.

  The drive through Charleston brought back a multitude of memories from when she’d lived here. Susannah glimpsed the grand old houses the city was known for, standing tall and elegant as they passed; the bustle of downtown; the majestic trees draping the sidewalks. Sweet nostalgia filled her soul—she’d rarely been back to her hometown since the move to Georgia three years ago and she’d missed it.

  A few blocks from where the Peninsula met the sea, Matthew pulled into the driveway of what looked like an overgrown stone cottage with large windows on both stories and a creeping vine covering large portions of the downstairs walls.

  After opening the door, he stepped back to allow her to enter and Susannah took an uneven breath. She was merely staying with Flynn’s father so she could be on hand if she was needed. It was a practical plan that made complete sense.

  So why did it feel dangerous?

  Some fanciful part of her was reacting as if an attractive man was inviting her back to his place because he was interested in her. Which was ridiculous. Just how ridiculous, she realized once she’d stepped over the threshold. The first thing that greeted her was a large framed photo of Grace, smiling beatifically, with baby Flynn in her arms. And, as he guided her through the house, she found more photos covering the walls. Photos of Grace with Flynn, with Matthew, or the three of them together. Large and small; snapshots and portraits; laughing faces and soft, dreamy expressions.

  This was not the house of a man who would ever invite another woman home. This was the house of a man still deeply in love with his wife.

  Matthew stopped in front of a door, opened it and switched on the light. In the middle of the large room stood a four-poster bed, with lace fringing and a quilted cover in soft pinks and mauves.

  “This is the guest bedroom. The bathroom is through there,” he said, pointing to a door leading directly from the bedroom. “I’ll give you a few minutes to freshen up, then, when you’re ready I’ll find us something to eat in the kitchen.”

  She’d eaten lunch on the plane, but nothing since. At his words, her stomach rumbled. “I can fix something if you want.”

  His gaze flicked to her stomach then back to her face with a faintly amused quirk at the edge of his full bottom lip. “No need. Pamela, my mother’s housekeeper, keeps a stock of home-cooked meals in my freezer.”

  “That’s sweet of her.” For reasons she wasn’t prepared to examine too closely, she was glad that Pamela and the Kincaid family were looking out for Matthew and Flynn.

  “She’s done it since Grace passed. I think she’s worried I’m too busy to cook.”

  “And you’re not?” she asked, thinking of all he had on his plate.

  A rueful smile twitched on his lips. “Usually I am. I say a prayer of thanks often for Pamela’s thoughtfulness.”

  “If I end up staying a few days,” she said, seeing the answer to something that had been playing on her mind, “I’d like to pull my weight. I’ll do the cooking.”

  “Susannah, I think what you’ve offered to do for Flynn more than ‘pulls your weight.’” He smiled even as he frowned, and the unusual combination tugged at her. “Don’t worry about it. Kitchen is down the stairs to the left—I’ll see you in ten.”

  She watched his tall frame stride down the hall, entire body taut with the responsibility that sat astride his broad shoulders. How exhausting must it be for Matthew to be the sole caregiver for Flynn when he still grieved for his wife? If only she could—

  Stopping the thought before it went any further, she slipped back into her temporary bedroom and changed her clothes then splashed water on her face. This little family unit wasn’t part of her life. She’d be leaving soon. She twisted her long hair up into a knot and secured it with a clip.

  Feeling refreshed, she followed the stairs down to the kitchen to find Matthew minus his tie and with sleeves rolled to a couple of inches above his wrists, stirring a pot on the stove. Those masculine wrists and the light covering of dark brown hair on the glimpse of his forearms were mesmerizing, and for timeless moments she couldn’t drag her gaze away.

  “I hope you like chili beans,” he said as he looked up. “I’m reheating one of Pamela’s specialties.”

  “Love them,” she said, giving herself a shake to recover her equilibrium. She leaned closer to the pot. “Smells good. Can I do anything?”

  He passed her an oven mitt. “The corn bread’s ready to come out of the oven.”

  “I was serious, by the way,” she said as she slid the tray of bread onto the marble kitchen island. “If I need to stay, I won’t feel comfortable with you housing and feeding me unless I’m doing something. Besides, I’ve taken a week’s leave and even with visiting Flynn sometimes at the hospital, I might go crazy with boredom.”

  “Well, I’d hate to cause someone to lose their sanity.” An eyebrow arched in faint amusement. “I’m only willing to consider the possibility that the tissue matching will be positive, so, as far as I’m concerned, you’re staying awhile. You can do some of the cooking. I’ll leave the keys to Grace’s Cadillac and a credit card. You’ll need ingredients—we have the basics but you’ll probably want more.” He reached for a bowl, spooned a generous amount of beans and passed it to her. “If you’re in Kara’s schedule, you’ll need the car to get to the hospital.”

  He picked up the second bowl he’d filled and the plate of corn bread, and indicated a breakfast table at one end of the large kitchen. “Is here okay with you?”

  “Casual is good,” she said, settling into the solid wooden chair. She tasted the chili beans and sighed. “It’s possible that anything warm and home cooked would taste divine after a day of packing and traveling, but this is really good.”

  “We were raised eating Pamela’s cooking.” He glanced at the bread in his hand, a faraway look in his eyes. “It tastes like home to me.”

  They ate a few minutes in silence and the day’s events played over in her mind.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He glanced up, eyes wary. “Sure.”

  “Why does everyone sing Elvis songs to Flynn?”

  A frown creased his forehead as he looked down at his bowl. “Grace was a big fan. She sang them to him instead of lullabies....”

  “And now he asks for them,” she finished for him.

  “Yes.”


  It was one word, simply said, but it held an eternity of pain. It hurt to even watch so she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and found a mischievous smile.

  “I heard that not everyone sings them properly.”

  He glanced up sharply, his brilliant green eyes filled with confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “He said that Aunty Lily sings her Elvis numbers too fast and occasionally dances to them, which is apparently inappropriate.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That sounds like Lily.”

  And Daddy sings them sad.

  The words pierced her heart. Of course he did—they reminded him of his beloved wife singing lullabies to their baby. It was amazing he could sing them at all. Unsure of what to say in the presence of so much grief, she ate another mouthful of chili.

  “Susannah, there’s something I want to ask of you, but…” Fine lines appeared around his eyes as pained reluctance overtook his face.

  “Anything,” she said softly. “Please, just ask and I’ll do it.” That’s why she’d come. To help.

  “It’s not that kind of favor.” He carefully placed his spoon in his bowl and steepled his hands together under his chin. “You’ll be going home soon.”

  He paused so she said, “Yes,” to fill the space.

  “When I came back into the room this evening, and Flynn had fallen asleep, curled into your side…” He reached for his wine and had a mouthful, giving himself more time. “Flynn doesn’t normally become affectionate with strangers, but he did with you for some reason, and if you spend more time with him—”

  “You’re worried that when I leave, he’ll be hurt,” she said, cutting in. She’d been tormented by the same thought.

  “Basically.” He picked up his spoon and stirred the food around his bowl before dropping the spoon back in and meeting her gaze. “I know I can’t shelter him from every hurt, but if it’s in my power to protect him, I will.”