Harlequin Special Edition July 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Widow of Conard CountyA Match for the Single DadThe Medic's Homecoming

by Rachel Lee

  She braced herself to see Garrett and his family at services Sunday morning, assuring herself she would be able to carry on as if nothing had changed between them. She hoped Payton had gotten over her irritation about the ladder incident and her embarrassment about the boating misadventure so they could chat comfortably after the service as they had in the past. She would ask about Kix’s kitten; surely that would initiate an innocuous conversation.

  Yet when Jay stood to open the service at seven sharp, the McHale family was nowhere to be seen. A young man with rather stringy blond hair, a smattering of acne and a shy smile sat at Jay’s side with a battered electric guitar plugged into a small, portable amp.

  “Our usual accompanist, Garrett McHale, couldn’t be with us this morning because of illness in his family,” Jay announced, his gaze pausing for a moment on Maggie as he glanced over the small crowd gathered beneath the pavilion on this bright, early Sunday. “I persuaded a talented young friend, Kyle Snow, to fill in. Let’s all welcome Kyle with a big amen, shall we?”

  Chuckling, the little congregation obliged by saying “amen” in unison. Kyle blushed a little, ducking his head to let his hair fall over his face. He strummed quietly along as Jay led the group in the first song, a familiar hymn they sang to lyrics projected on a portable screen set up to one side of the pavilion. Maggie added her voice to the chorus, but she couldn’t help fretting about the illness in Garrett’s family. Was someone really sick, or was it merely an excuse to avoid returning to the resort so soon? Would they ever feel truly comfortable here again?

  After delivering his usual upbeat, encouraging sermon, Jay closed the service as he always did with a song and a prayer and an invitation to his little church in town. Afterward, he lingered to shake hands and exchange greetings with the attendees. Maggie held back until nearly everyone else had drifted away. Only then did she approach Jay, who smiled and held out a hand to her. She returned his warm handshake and complimented him on his sermon before asking a little too casually, “Did you say someone in Garrett’s family is ill?”

  Jay nodded. “Several of them, apparently. Some sort of bug. I asked if he needed help, but he said he had everything under control.”

  “Of course he does,” she murmured, thinking that Garrett would say that, regardless.

  “So have you heard from him since they left last week?” Jay’s tone was as studiously nonchalant as her own, suggesting he knew something had gone on between her and Garrett even if he didn’t know details. That didn’t surprise her, considering that Jay was Garrett’s longtime closest friend, but she would bet there was plenty Garrett had left unsaid.

  “No,” she said. “I haven’t.”

  Jay nodded as if he’d expected that reply. “He tends to get...overwhelmed sometimes. It would be good for him to have someone to vent to occasionally. Someone who cares about him enough to provide moral support when he needs it.”

  “I’m glad he has you to turn to for that,” she said evenly, her hands clenching behind her.

  Jay’s smile was endearingly lopsided. “I don’t think I’m exactly what he needs in his life, though I do my best to give him encouragement when I can.”

  “I think that’s all he wants right now.”

  “Do you?”

  Looking away from the pastor’s kind blue eyes with their echoes of old pain of his own, she cleared her throat. “It would take someone very special to offer him more.”

  Jay reached out to squeeze her shoulder lightly. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Maggie Bell. I believe you are as special as you choose to be.”

  He was giving her credit for more courage than she thought she possessed. But that seemed to be Jay’s special gift—an unflagging belief in others that made them want to prove him right.

  Still, his words stayed with her the rest of that day and haunted her during the long, restless night. She woke Monday morning with a vague thought of perhaps calling Garrett sometime in the coming weeks with a friendly, informal invitation to a movie or a night out for music and drinks. Maybe with some of her other friends. All very casual and uncomplicated, no strings to entangle either of them. Just a pleasant refuge from responsibility. It was the least she could offer—or should she say it was the most? Whichever, maybe Garrett would appreciate the thought behind it.

  Her cell phone rang early Monday afternoon just as she’d finished placing an order for new linens. She glanced at the screen, then felt her heart stutter in response to seeing Garrett’s name there. So much for the courage she thought she’d mustered during the night.

  “Hello?”

  “Maggie?” Rather than Garrett’s deep tone, it was a high-pitched, quavering voice she heard. “It’s Kix. I’m using Daddy’s phone.”

  Hearing the tears clogging the girl’s throat, Maggie spoke urgently. “Kix? Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

  “Everyone’s sick. Payton and Grammy and Daddy and me, too. Daddy’s trying to take care of us all but he’s really sick. He doesn’t know I’m calling you, but I knew you’d want me to. Was I right?” she asked less confidently.

  “You were absolutely right,” Maggie said firmly. “Sit tight, honey. I’m on my way.”

  Kix heaved a deep sigh of relief into the phone. “I’m glad.”

  Reaching for her keys, Maggie hoped Garrett would be glad. But regardless, she was going to help. He and the girls needed her.

  Chapter Ten

  Kix must have been watching out the front windows for Maggie to arrive. The front door to Garrett’s house opened almost before Maggie had stepped out of her car. The first thing Maggie noticed was that the girl’s face was pale and clammy looking, her fire-orange hair limp and tangled. She wore a pair of red plaid shorts that clashed with her yellow-and-pink-striped T-shirt, both sadly crumpled. Her left arm cradled a placid-looking white cat—not quite full grown, but a little older than kitten stage. Tears had left sticky trails down Kix’s cheeks and her lower lip still quivered.

  She threw herself at Maggie, wrapping her free arm tightly around Maggie’s waist.

  Maggie gave the child a reassuring hug even as she asked, “Where are Payton and your dad?”

  “Payton’s in her bed. Daddy fell asleep on the couch.”

  “You said your grandmother is sick, too? Is she here?”

  Kix shook her head against Maggie’s chest. “Meemaw is taking care of her at their house. Meemaw isn’t sick, but she can’t take care of everybody, so Daddy said we didn’t need her here.”

  Kix didn’t feel feverish, to Maggie’s relief. “How long has this been going on?”

  “I got sick Friday at Grammy’s house while Daddy was at work. Grammy took me to the doctor and he said it was a nasty virus that’s going around. Then yesterday Payton got sick and then Grammy and this morning Daddy got it. I feel a little better now, but everyone else is sick and I can’t take care of them all,” she added in a little wail, her eyes filling again.

  “That’s okay, sweetheart. I can,” Maggie assured her.

  Kix sniffled and wiped her face with her free hand. “What if you get sick, too?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Your new kitty is beautiful, by the way.”

  The faintest hint of a smile lightened the child’s uncharacteristically grave expression. “Her name is Sasha. Daddy likes her because he says she’s the most laid-back cat ever. I love her because she likes to be hugged and petted and she sleeps with me and plays with strings and toy mice and she’s the best cat in the whole world.”

  It was good to hear Kix babbling again, even if her voice was still a little unsteady.

  “Nice to meet you, Sasha.” Maggie scratched one soft, pointed ear, then straightened. “Now let’s see what we can do about getting you all well.”

  Though still clean, the house wasn’t quite as militarily tidy as it had been on her previous visit. A stack of unopened mail lay on the foyer table and a pair of girl’s sandals—Kix’s, apparently—had been abandoned on the floor just inside t
he door. Kix led her to the living room. A newspaper was tossed on the floor beside an easy chair. A couple more pairs of shoes lay haphazardly on the floor, along with a few scattered cat toys. Two soda cans and an empty dish sat on the coffee table. The television was tuned to a kids’ program, the volume turned low, but no one was watching.

  Maggie’s gaze turned to the couch. More specifically, to the man sprawled on the couch, his head cradled on a pillow, one arm dangling off the side. As her grandfather would say, Garrett looked like he’d been rode hard and put up wet. His eyes were closed, his dark lashes stark against skin pale beneath the tan. His mouth was drawn into a hard line and deep lines creased his damp forehead. His usually neat, short dark hair stood in spikes around his head, either from contact with the pillow or from swipes of his hand. There was a stain on his gray T-shirt and his feet were bare beneath the hems of his faded jeans. He looked so different from the composed, dignified pilot she usually saw—and yet still very much the strong, virile man she’d fallen so hard for.

  He roused suddenly, squeezing his forehead with one hand as though his head ached, his voice hoarse when he muttered, “Damn it, I fell asleep. Kix?”

  Kix stepped forward. “I’m here, Daddy. And so is Maggie.”

  He froze, then dropped his hand, rising unsteadily on one elbow. “Maggie?”

  She stepped into his line of sight. “Hello, Garrett.”

  She could almost see him struggling to clear his head. “What are you...? This isn’t a good time to visit, Maggie. I’d hate for you to catch what we’ve got.”

  “I’m not here to visit. I’m here to help.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but—”

  “Yes, I know,” she cut in, “you’re doing fine on your own. You have everything under control.”

  “We’re getting by.”

  “Clearly. But now you have help. Go to bed, Garrett. Take some medicine, drink some water and get some sleep. I’ll take care of the girls.”

  He shook his head, then grabbed his forehead again when the movement seemed to make him dizzy. “I can’t ask you to—”

  “You didn’t ask,” she reminded him firmly. “Sometimes I just take charge, remember?”

  His glittering eyes met hers for a moment. “I remember.”

  She smiled. “Go to bed, Garrett. You can resist me again later.”

  Dragging himself to his bare feet, he swayed in place a moment before giving in and heading for the doorway. “I’m beginning to think resistance is futile,” he muttered on his way out.

  With a little laugh, Maggie looked down at wide-eyed Kix, who now sat cross-legged on the floor with her cat. “Your daddy is a Trekkie?”

  Kix gave a little snort. “Big time.”

  “Interesting.”

  Anticipating some entertaining debates about which version of the Trek universe was the best, Maggie waited until she was sure Garrett had gone to rest before turning to his youngest daughter. “Have you had any lunch?”

  Kix shook her head. “Daddy was going to make some soup but then he fell asleep.”

  Maggie nodded. “I’ll check on Payton and then make you some lunch.”

  “I can help you. I’m feeling a lot better than I was,” Kix assured her.

  Resting a hand momentarily on the girl’s head, Maggie smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, why don’t you go wash your face and hands while I check on your sister?”

  “Okay, Maggie.” Looking a bit more like her usual energetic self, Kix gathered the extraordinarily patient Sasha into her arms and dashed off to comply.

  Maggie found Payton’s bedroom easily enough. The first door on the right of the back hallway stood open and Payton was asleep in the bed. Tiptoeing across the floor, Maggie made a quick visual sweep of the room, noting the signs of transition between childhood and young adulthood: colorful stuffed animals were arranged on a shelf beneath a poster of a current teen idol. A tube of tinted lip balm and a few plastic bangle bracelets were scattered on the dresser beside a unicorn figurine. A crumpled pair of shorts and a T-shirt lay on the floor beside a tumbled pair of flip-flops adorned with flirty fabric daisies.

  Standing beside the bed, Maggie studied the teenager sleeping fretfully on the bunched pillows. She’d kicked off her covers, revealing a thin purple sleep cami and lavender plaid sleep shorts. Even though Payton looked touchingly young and vulnerable in her illness, Maggie still saw the hints of the beautiful, strong-willed woman she would become.

  Gently smoothing the mint-green sheets up to Payton’s waist, Maggie smiled when she saw that the girl slept with a stuffed toy. At first glance it appeared to be a once-white teddy bear. Upon closer examination, Maggie realized it was a snowman. The body was made of a thick, velvety material stuffed into a squishy tri-lobe shape. Black buttons served as eyes and the embroidered red mouth wore a permanent smile. A jaunty black felt hat, rather misshapen from years of squashing, and a red knit scarf with somewhat ragged ends were its only garments. From the toy’s condition, it was obvious that it had been well loved for quite a few years. Something about the sight of it cradled next to Payton made Maggie smile wistfully even as her throat tightened.

  Raising her gaze, she saw that Payton’s eyes had opened. They glittered more brightly than usual, perhaps with a touch of fever. Her arms tightened around the toy. “My mom bought it for me when I was little,” she croaked. “On a ski trip to Colorado.”

  Maggie nodded, unsurprised. “You must miss her very much.”

  Payton’s full lower lip quivered just for a moment. “Sometimes.”

  And this was one of those times, Maggie suspected. Did Payton ever feel free to talk about her loss with her father and grandmother, neither of whom had been part of the home Payton had shared with her mom, at least not that she remembered?

  As she emerged a bit more from her heavy sleep, Payton frowned. “Why are you here?”

  Maggie couldn’t help but be amused by how much Payton suddenly sounded like her father. “I came to help,” she said as she had to him.

  “Where’s my dad?”

  “He’s not feeling well. He’s resting. I was going to make some lunch for Kix. Are you hungry?”

  Payton shifted in the bed as if to rise. “I can make something for them. You don’t need to stay.”

  Maggie didn’t take offense. “I know I don’t need to, but I’d like to, if you don’t mind very much. Why don’t you rest a little longer and I’ll go make some lunch. I’ll see if you’re hungry when it’s done.”

  Subsiding into the pillows again, Payton shifted her obviously aching head restlessly as if in search of a more comfortable position. “Whatever.”

  Leaving the door open behind her, Maggie quietly left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen where Kix waited for her.

  Twenty minutes later a hearty pot of soup simmered on the stove. In deference to the hot summer day, Maggie had kept the soup light—a chicken broth base with finely chopped fresh veggies and a handful of rotini, ingredients she’d found in Garrett’s well-stocked pantry. She ladled soup into bowls and set out crackers and cheese while Kix filled tumblers with ice and water. She didn’t prepare a bowl for Garrett; from what she’d seen of him, he needed sleep more than food at the moment.

  Payton’s eyes were closed when Maggie entered her room, but she roused as Maggie approached the bed. “Is Dad still asleep?”

  “Yes. Are you hungry? I’ve made some soup.”

  Payton hesitated only a moment before nodding. “I’m a little hungry.”

  “Do you want me to bring you a tray or do you feel like eating in the kitchen?”

  Setting her grinning snowman aside, Payton pushed herself upright and swung her legs to the side of the bed. “I’ll get up. I’m tired of being in bed.”

  Lingering only long enough to make sure the girl was steady on her feet, Maggie moved toward the doorway. “The soup will be ready for you when you’ve washed up.”

  Maggie had just settled Kix at the table with her
lunch when Payton joined them a few minutes later. She had made a haphazard attempt to comb her hair and had swapped her sleep clothes for clean shorts and a tee, though she’d left her feet bare. She was still pale and there were faint purple shadows beneath her heavy-lidded eyes, but she held her chin high and walked steadily toward her place at the table.

  “I helped Maggie make the soup,” Kix boasted as Payton picked up her spoon. “It’s really good.”

  Payton took a cautious bite, then nodded somewhat grudgingly. “It is good.”

  Maggie smiled at her and pushed the cheese-and-cracker tray a little closer.

  After taking another bite of soup and a sip of her water, Payton asked, “Did Dad call you?”

  Kix shook her head. “I called her,” she admitted. “I found her number in Daddy’s phone. I knew she’d want to come help us.”

  “Why would she want to come take care of sick people?” Payton scoffed.

  “Because these sick people are very important to her,” Maggie replied evenly. “I’m glad Kix called.”

  Leaving the girls to eat, Maggie filled an insulated container with a good portion of the big pot of soup and carried it across the street to Garrett’s mother and grandmother. She’d called earlier to check on them, learning that Paulette was feeling somewhat better and that Esther had somehow escaped catching the virus so far. They seemed to appreciate the soup and the knowledge that Garrett and the girls had someone to help them for a few hours. If they read anything meaningful into Kix calling Maggie, or Maggie dropping everything to respond, they kept their speculation to themselves. Maggie made them promise to call if they needed anything before she returned to Garrett’s house.

  After clearing the kitchen, she joined the girls in the living room to watch a movie from their video library. Maggie sat in the center of the couch with Kix curled beside her, holding her dozing cat. After a few minutes, Payton settled on her other side. “I can see the TV better from here,” she said gruffly.