Forever Grace

by Linda Poitevin

  What she hadn’t expected was the all-new sense of loss that came with it. The realization, as Sean’s hand glided over her belly and the curve of her hip, that this was it, this was all she would get. And she wanted so much more. Within a heartbeat, the act of sex she’d sought had become something else. Something more. Something so bittersweet that it had taken away her breath.

  Grace closed her eyes.

  She loved him. She loved him, but nothing could come of it because she wouldn’t risk the kids—couldn’t risk them. Not for him, not for anything. So right in the middle of losing Julianne, she would have to give him up, too.

  She waited for the tears, but none came. At last she decided that perhaps she’d just done all the thinking and feeling one person could manage in one day. Perhaps some part of her brain—wiser than the rest of her—had shut itself down out of sheer self-preservation, knowing she had reached her limits. Surpassed them. With another sigh, she rolled over to face the wall and let sleep reach up from the depths of exhaustion to claim her.

  Tomorrow she would deal with Juli and the kids and the rest of her life.

  Tonight, it was enough to allow the memory of strong arms to hold her and grant her the illusion of security.

  ………………

  They met again over pancakes in the morning, a discombobulated bunch held together by the cheerful chatter of their youngest member. Sean flipped pancakes at the stove. Grace carried them to the table as they were done. The three eldest ate in silence.

  It was a day like any other, but not. The thread of hope they’d all guarded—silently, carefully—had disintegrated, leaving them in the same life they’d been living for the last month, but one that had irrevocably changed. They all felt it. All but Annabelle. It left Grace floundering, at a loss as to what to do, what to say…

  How to fix it.

  She returned to the kitchen with the empty platter and watched while Sean loaded it up with fresh pancakes. His fingers closed over her wrist when she would have turned away.

  Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze to his. They’d exchanged only the most mundane words so far: good morning, would you like coffee, how many pancakes will the kids eat, are you hungry? Somehow, it made the new awareness between them bearable—even as the thought of losing him became increasingly less so.

  Sean pitched his voice low. “They’ll be okay, you know. Kids are stronger than we give them credit for.”

  She nodded. Having survived the loss of both her own parents at a young age, she knew that. Knew—in her head—that as awful as this time was for them, they would survive. Her heart, however, was a whole other matter.

  “I just wish I could make it all go away,” she murmured, looking over at the table. “They’re all so young. Childhood isn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “You’re right. It’s not. But it will get better.”

  “Will it?”

  Sean cupped her chin and lifted until her gaze met his again. “I have absolute faith that it will,” he said, giving her a smile that warmed her a little. “Because you’ll make it better. Just give yourself time and—”

  “And?”

  He hesitated, then shook his head. “Trust yourself,” he said. “Give yourself time, and trust yourself. You can do this.”

  It hadn’t been what he’d started to say, she was sure, but she accepted the words with a nod. Partly because she wanted to believe him, and partly because she didn’t want to think about what she’d hoped he’d say. Give yourself time and let me help you. Let me be there for you. She turned away to carry the platter to the table.

  Sean left after breakfast. She saw him to the door, waiting as he shrugged into his jacket, at a loss for words. What could she say to the man who had helped her cope with the magnitude of yesterday in the way that he had? The man who had so readily been there for her children in one moment and then for her in another? Thank you seemed inadequate on some levels and just plain wrong on others.

  The please stay that hovered was even more wrong.

  Digging her fingers into her ribcage, Grace shored up her resolve. No strings, she’d promised him, and she would keep that promise. No matter how much it made her battered heart bleed.

  Sean zipped his jacket and tucked his crutches back under his arms. “I’m going to make some calls today,” he said. “To find out where things stand with the investigation.”

  “You can do that?” The idea surprised her. She hadn’t considered the possibility.

  Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I’m fairly certain they’ll let me into the loop,” he said. “Me being a cop and all. I would have done so sooner, but my cell phone died, and I had to wait for Gareth to bring me the charger. Why don’t you send Josh to get me when Luc leaves? I’ll come over and make dinner, and I can fill you in then.”

  Her head was shaking before he finished. “You don’t need to do that—dinner, I mean. We’ve asked enough of you.”

  A sandy brow shot up, then moved down to meet its partner. “Seriously?”

  She couldn’t hold his gaze. Not when he scowled that way. Not when her words she needed to speak were the polar opposite of what she wanted to say. “I meant what I said last night, Sean. About no strings. You don’t need to feel obligated to—”

  “Grace.”

  She closed her mouth with a snap. Stared at the floor. Flinched at his impatient sigh.

  “You really are the most impossible woman,” he growled. His voice had dropped to a level curious ears wouldn’t be able to hear. “Send Josh to get me when Luc leaves. I’ll make dinner. I’ll fill you in on what I find out about Barry. Then, after the kids go to bed, we talk.”

  His hand brushed back her hair, a gentle gesture so unexpected that she raised her gaze to his without thinking. Banked heat glowed in the green eyes.

  “We talk,” he repeated. “And we clear the air between us, because we can’t keep this up. I won’t keep this up. Understand?”

  She hesitated, and then, because there really was no other response she could make, she nodded. He was right. There were words that needed to be said, decisions that needed to be made. Maybe by tonight, she would be strong enough to make them.

  Sean leaned in to feather a kiss across her lips, startling her into going rigid.

  “And that,” he drawled, opening the door beside him, “is a part of what we’ll talk about. Tell Luc I said hi.”

  ………………

  The crunch of tires across gravel heralded the arrival of a vehicle just after lunchtime. Grace swept the last of the crumbs from the counter into the sink, then draped the dishcloth over the tap to dry. The kids looked up in unison from the kitchen table, where they’d hauled out their art supplies to make thank you cards for the nurses who had cared for their mother. It had been Lilly’s suggestion, and Grace still carried the lump in her throat from it.

  “That’ll be Mr. Tremaine,” she said. “I’ll go out and meet him.”

  “Do you want us to clear the table?” Josh asked.

  “No, it’s fine. We can have tea in the living room.”

  Wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans, she went to the door, opened it, and stepped out onto the porch. She closed the door behind her again, thankful for the warmth of the fall day that would let her and Luc remain outside for a few minutes. She had questions for him—things they needed to discuss—that the kids didn’t need to hear. On the other side of the van, out of sight, a car door opened, then slammed. Grace smiled, descending the stairs to the grass and walking out to meet her friend. Despite the circumstances that had brought him here, it would be good to see a familiar face again. Very good.

  Footsteps moved across the gravel. She reached the halfway point to the driveway as a man stepped out from behind the van. Her eyes widened. Her smile dropped into oblivion. The blood in her veins turned to ice.

  Barry.

  CHAPTER 34

  ………………

  Grace spun around in a race to the cottage.
To safety. To the kids.

  Their father was faster.

  Heart pounding, she skidded to a stop as Barry faced her from the foot of the stairs, baseball bat swinging from one hand, blocking her way.

  “Hello, Grace,” he said. “Long time, no see.”

  Somewhere in the trees beyond the lawn, a blue jay scolded loudly and a red squirrel trilled an indignant response. Both sounds faded into the silence of the forest. The vastness between the cottage and civilization. Between them and help. Grace’s stomach twisted. Heaved. She swallowed against the bile of sheer terror.

  He’d found them. Barry had found them, and no one knew he was here, and now she was all that stood between him and Juli’s children. Her children. Calm descended. She unclenched her hands, shifted her stance, stilled her mind. Her heart rate slowed. This was what she’d trained for, she thought. All those hours of practice, all that discipline, it had been for this moment. This fight.

  She could do this.

  She had to do this.

  Barry advanced toward her.

  ………………

  Sean picked up his cell phone from the counter on the third ring. He glanced at the unfamiliar number on the display, then flicked the answer icon with his thumb. “Hello?”

  “Sean, it’s Luc Tremaine, your cottage neighbor. Is Grace with you?”

  Sean frowned. “No. Why?”

  “I tried to call her to tell her I’ll be late, but she’s not answering. And I think we might have a problem.”

  A chill snaked down Sean’s spine. “What problem?”

  “The cops have just cleared my condo. There was a breakin this morning while I was at the funeral home for Julianne, but there’s nothing missing. At least, I thought there was nothing missing, but I’ve just realized I might be wrong. I keep a file for the cottage. There’s a map in there that I photocopy for people who are driving out there for the first time, and—”

  “The map is missing?” Sean interrupted.

  “Yes. Barry’s been seen a couple of times at the hospital, and it’s possible he may have followed me home from there yesterday.”

  “How long ago? The breakin. How long ago was it?”

  “Two hours, tops. Long enough to find the map and get out to—”

  “He’s here,” Sean said hoarsely. “I heard a car go by five minutes ago.”

  “Oh, my God. Grace…the kids…”

  Sean shoved aside the gut-deep terror wrenching at him. Crystal-clear thinking took over. The training of a cop. “I’m on my way to her,” he said. “Call 911 and tell them what’s happening. Give them directions. Give them my name and tell them I said it’s a code 10-33. Have you got that?”

  “Ten thirty-three,” Luc repeated. The code for officer needs assistance that would guarantee the fastest possible arrival of the cavalry. “Got it. And Sean, for God’s sake, be careful. He’s—”

  “Call,” Sean snapped.

  He dropped the phone on the counter, swiveled, and started for the sliding door. His crutch caught on the metal sill as he stepped through, and he stumbled. He stopped on the deck. Regained his balance. Closed his eyes. He couldn’t screw this up. He drew a breath through his nostrils, exhaled through his mouth. Grace needed him. The kids needed him. Fingers clamped securely over the crutch handgrips, he started out again. Grim concentration marked every swing of his body between the crutches, every planting of their rubber tips on the deck, the stairs, the ground.

  Hang in there, sweetheart. I’m coming.

  ………………

  From just inside the trees, Sean watched Barry Walsh circle Grace for the third time. She turned with him, just out of reach of the bat in his hands, her stance relaxed, watchful. Ready for his attack. An untrained opponent would have gone at her by now. Would have taken a swing and been disarmed. But Walsh was far from untrained and, within the force, had the reputation of never having lost a street fight. He would also know about Grace’s martial arts experience. He wouldn’t underestimate her.

  Sean willed her not to underestimate him.

  Walsh began a fourth circuit, then made a sudden feint to the left. Grace ignored it. Walsh scowled and the bat swung a little faster. Sean’s lips curved in a tight smile. So there, you bastard.

  A fifth circuit. Another ignored feint.

  Sean ached to leave the shelter of the trees, to let Grace know he was there, but he didn’t dare interrupt her focus. One crack in her vigilance and Walsh would be on her in a flash. She was good. She was very good, and much as it killed him to stand by helplessly, she was best left to finish what Walsh had started—her way. Sooner or later, he’d get impatient and take that swing at her, and then she’d have him. Of that, Sean had absolutely no doubt.

  Strength and control emanated from her. He could feel the energy from here. She owned this, and he didn’t think any woman had ever looked more beautiful.

  Two more feints in quick succession. Walsh’s scowl deepened. Darkened. He was getting edgy.

  Go for it, you prick, Sean urged him. I dare you.

  And then, the unthinkable. Movement from the cottage. The opening of a door. Josh stepping onto the porch, calling his aunt’s name in a quavering, terrified voice. Distracting Grace for the split-second Walsh needed to swing the bat.

  Sean burst from the trees with a yell. Grace’s attention snapped back to her opponent, too late to stop the blow but maybe—maybe—soon enough to save her life. Bat and bone connected. Grace dropped without a sound. Sean yelled again.

  “Walsh!”

  Barry Walsh’s head snapped up. He stared across the lawn. His gaze narrowed. “I know you,” he said.

  Sean slowed his pace, not daring to risk a fall. “Josh,” he called. “Get back in the cottage and lock the door. Whatever happens, you stay inside, understand? The police are on their way.”

  Grace.

  Tears streaming down his face, Josh nodded and stepped back toward the door. Walsh’s voice stopped him.

  “Hold up there, son. He doesn’t give the orders, I do.” He lifted the bat and rested it over one shoulder. Then he placed a booted foot on Grace’s prone figure. “McKittrick, isn’t it? You’re famous after getting yourself shot up like that. How’s the leg?”

  Sean continued across the grass, trying not to look at Grace. He divided his focus between the man standing over her and the boy on the porch. “I meant what I said, Walsh. Backup’s on the way. They’ll be here any minute. Josh, inside.”

  “Josh, stay where you are,” Walsh snapped. Then he snorted. “I just made the drive out here, McKittrick, remember? I know how long it’ll take them, and I’ll be long gone before then. Josh, get your sisters. Put your shoes and coats on, and come get in the van. Bring the keys.”

  “Don’t do it—” Sean began.

  “Would you just shut up?” Walsh scowled at him. “I came for my kids, and I’m taking them. I don’t care if I have to break down every door in the place and drag them out screaming, so why don’t we save them the additional trauma and let them do as I ask? Josh, your sisters.”

  Josh hesitated, and his father’s furious gaze swung to him. “Did you hear me? Now!”

  The boy visibly jumped, then scurried backward into the cottage, tripping over the doorsill. He disappeared from view. Walsh turned his attention back to Sean.

  “You may as well stop there,” he said. “You and I both know you don’t stand a chance in hell.”

  “I just want to check on Grace.”

  Walsh prodded her in the back with his boot. “She’s still breathing. That’s good enough for now.” He looked up. “I said stop.”

  Sean stopped. On the ground, Grace’s eyes opened. Her gaze met his, glazed with pain but otherwise clear. Focused. Determined. With a monumental effort, Sean didn’t react. He looked up at Walsh again. He had to keep him talking. Keep him distracted. He couldn’t know that Grace was still conscious.

  “You know you won’t get far.”

  “I know I’ll have a pretty g
ood head start,” Walsh shrugged and his eyes turned flat. Expressionless. “And I don’t need to go far, anyway. Not for what I need to do.”

  Grace flinched at the words, and her brother-in-law looked down. Sean’s blood ran cold. He started forward again, drawing Walsh’s scowl back to him. Walsh hefted the baseball bat and nestled the end of it against Grace’s head.

  “What part of stop do you not under—”

  In the blink of an eye, Grace grabbed his pant leg, gave a vicious pull, and toppled him to the ground. He landed with a grunt but even as she climbed to her feet, he rolled away and regained his, too. He still held the bat.

  And Grace’s left arm hung useless at her side.

  Sean gauged the distance, dropped one of his crutches, hefted the other in both hands, and swung hard. He connected with the baseball bat. If he’d had both legs under him, it probably would have been enough to disarm the other man. Instead, the impact knocked the crutch from his grasp and him to the ground. Walsh kicked away his would-be weapon and only way of getting upright again, and then it was just him circling Grace once more.

  A disabled Grace whose breath came in pained gasps.

  They all knew there could be only one outcome this time.

  Then the cottage door opened, and there came the unmistakable sound of a cartridge being chambered in a shotgun.

  ………………

  Through a haze of pain, Grace saw her brother-in-law step back. He looked over at the cottage, but she didn’t think for an instant that his attention had left her. Even if it had, there was little she could do. Not with a broken arm. All she could do—all they could do, because Sean was just as much a part of this as any of them—was keep Barry distracted. Delay him until the police got here. Keep him from taking the kids and—