by Peggy Jaeger
I nodded because my butt was uncomfortable on the floor.
Frayne slipped one arm around my waist and grabbed my hand with his other. “Go slow. I don’t relish seeing your eyes roll back again. Once was enough for a lifetime.”
Together, we managed to get me upright. In full disclosure, though, I have to admit I leaned against him a bit more than I needed to, relishing the feel of his chest against my side, his hand steadying mine. If I could have done it without being obvious and thereby mortifying myself, I would have snuck in a quick graze of my nose against his neck.
Once I was standing, he hooked his foot around the leg of a kitchen chair and helped lower me into it.
“Okay? Not dizzy?”
“I’m good.”
He dragged a sister chair close to mine, and from the way he was scrutinizing my face, he didn’t believe me.
“I’m fine. Really. I must be dehydrated or something. I’ve never fainted before.”
He rose and took the filtered water jug from the fridge, poured me a glass, and then wrapped my fingers around it.
“Drink.”
“When did you get so bossy?” I asked between sips. And why is it so comforting? “Who were you speaking to?”
“Maureen. I called her because I didn’t know if I should call an ambulance or not. She’s on her way over.”
“I’d bet cash money she’s bringing Colleen with her.” I reached for the cell phone.
Frayne was quicker. Holding it out of my reach, he asked, “Who do you want to call?”
“My sisters. They don’t need to come, fuss, and hover. I just need some sleep and I’ll be fine. I’m never sick. On the random chance I am, though, it usually blows over quick if I rest. Which I was doing when you started pounding on my door.” I took a big sip of the water, which tasted divine. “Why are you here?”
He put the cell back down on the table out of my reach. “I finished the book.”
“Oh. Wow. Good for you.”
“Thanks.”
“So, you’re here because…why?”
He sat back in the chair and swiped a hand through the sides of his temples, all the while keeping his attention focused on me. “I wanted you to read it before I send it off to my editor. Get your insights on what I’ve written.”
“Okay, wow again. That’s, well, an honor. I guess. Why?”
I hadn’t realized I’d missed that head tilt and penetrating, quizzical stare as much as I had until he tossed both my way. I might not be feeling at my peak, health-wise, but I was still a woman and his stare fired an arrow of longing straight through to my core.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want my”—I flapped a hand in the air—“insights?”
“A number of reasons.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “First, you know the history of this town more than my editor, so you’ll be able to detect if I’ve got any inaccuracies timeline-wise. Second, you were an integral part of my research. If it weren’t for you, I might never have found the link to your grandmother, which led me to Robert, who eventually pointed me to Josiah’s true beginnings. And third—” He stopped, his eyebrows slamming together.
“Third?”
I wasn’t sure, but I think the color in his cheeks darkened.
“Well, third is…you’re one of the smartest and most honest people I’ve ever known. You have an uncanny ability to put into words what people are thinking and feeling. That trait is probably part of what makes you so good at what you do, and because of it I think you’d tell me the truth about whether or not the book has any merit. I’d really appreciate your opinion of it.”
“Did you just compliment my being a lawyer? Or did I hallucinate that because I’m sick?”
This time both sides of his mouth pulled up. In the next instant, it went straight again, a serious, thoughtful expression glazing his eyes.
“Cathy.” He stretched a hand across the table and pulled one of mine into his. “I want to apologize for that last day. At the courthouse. I was—well, rude doesn’t describe it enough. I caused a scene where you work, where people know and respect you, and I’m sorry for that.”
I had a great deal I wanted to say in reply to that. Sometimes just listening is the best course, though.
“I hadn’t planned on leaving that day. But—”
The kitchen door flew open, interrupting what he’d been about to tell me.
Maureen, armed with a shopping bag I instinctively knew was filled with food burst through the door, Colleen close at her heels. Both had lines of worry etched on their faces.
“Mac told us you fainted,” Maureen said. She dropped the bag on the counter and shrugged out of her coat. Then, she took my face in her hands, lifting my chin and examining me with a thorough rake from eyebrows to chin. “How long have you been sick? Have you seen a doctor? Do you want me to call yours?”
I slid a hand up and over one of hers, squeezed it, and said, “Stop.”
The uber-concern she was expressing could be laid directly at her twin’s door. The first indication we’d had Eileen was sick was when she’d fainted one day in the inn. A quick trip to the emergency room and a complete physical by her private doctor had led to the breast-cancer diagnosis. Colleen had fainted a few months ago from stress and exhaustion. Maureen’s fear another of her sisters had a life-threatening disease burst bright and harsh in front of her mind.
“I’ve got some kind of stomach flu or virus. That’s all. It needs to run its course.”
“But you fainted.”
“Because I haven’t been drinking and I’m dehydrated. That’s all.”
Her breath caught, and she was one tear away from losing control. I pressed her hand again. “Mac made me drink water, and I feel better already. Promise.”
“Have you eaten anything?” Colleen asked from over Maureen’s shoulder.
“Not much. I feel like I’m gonna barf most of the time.”
She nodded. “I brought you a box of saltines. They’ve been a lifesaver with my morning sickness. If you’ve got a tummy bug, they might help you, too.”
I thanked her.
Maureen took a breath and finally let go of my face. “I brought chicken soup.”
“Nanny’s recipe?”
“Of course.”
“My grandmother’s soup has weird healing powers,” I told Frayne. “The only one she’s ever shared the recipe with is Mo, so none of us knows what’s in it.”
“An extra dose of love,” Maureen said, quoting Nanny. “Want me to heat some up?”
“Not now. I’ll take a few crackers, though.”
“I’ll make you some tea,” Mac offered.
Who of the three of us was more surprised when he rose and opened the cabinet where I stored the tea bags was debatable. Colleen’s eyes narrowed as she watched him pull a bag from the box. Maureen’s expression went from concerned to thoughtful in a nanosecond when he filled the kettle with water, and I was dumbfounded he remembered where I kept everything.
While the water boiled, he turned, leaned against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, and found three pair of inquiring eyes zeroed in on him.
This time I was certain his cheeks darkened.
“The warmth from hot tea helps with nausea,” he said.
“That’s true.” Colleen nodded. “Slade has been researching nausea cures for the past two weeks. Bland foods, like crackers, and plain tea go a long way in helping me get out of bed in the morning.”
Absentmindedly, she rubbed a hand across her still flat stomach.
“I’ll leave the soup in the fridge for when you want to heat it up.” Maureen began unpacking the bag she’d brought. “There’s some herbed bread, roasted chicken and potatoes, and a container of oatmeal for when you’re up to eating solids again.”
“You’re still my favorite sister,” I told her and then grinned when Colleen tossed me a pout.
“You might change your tune when it’s time for Slade and me to
choose godparents,” she said.
While Mac steeped my tea, my sisters fussed.
I loved these two beyond words, but I wasn’t used to this kind of attention. It made me a little uncomfortable and a whole lot of anxious.
“Don’t you have an inn to run?” I asked Maureen. “And it’s Friday,” I tossed to Colleen. “Don’t you have a wedding rehearsal or something you should be at?”
“Charity’s taking care of everything.”
Mac handed me a mug and said, “Drink.”
“People around here have gotten wicked bossy all of a sudden.” The grouse was mumbled, but everyone in the room heard it.
“It’s payback for all the times you bossed us when we were kids.” Maureen finished putting the provisions away and closed the refrigerator. “You know what Nanny says about payback.”
“ ’Tis a goddess bitch, t’ be sure.” Colleen’s brogue was better than any actress’s could ever be.
Without thinking why I shouldn’t, I shook my head and immediately regretted it. A tsunami of queasiness bubbled up from my empty stomach at the movement.
“Here. Take small bites of this.” Mac opened the crackers and handed me one square. “It’ll help.”
This time I didn’t complain about being told what to do. I’d have obeyed an order to stand on my head if it would bring me relief from this bilious feeling.
They all watched me take a few bites, chew, then swallow. The notion popped into my head that this was how animals felt at feeding time in a zoo.
After a time, the nausea abated a bit, so I sipped some more of my tea.
“I feel almost human,” I told them. “And I’m going back to bed, so you can all leave now.”
Mac was right next to me when I stood, poised, probably, to catch me if I went down again.
I swatted his hand away. “I’m not gonna faint.”
I’d forgotten how persistent he could be. Ignoring the hit, he slid an arm around my waist and said, “Humor me,” while he led me back up the stairs, my sisters tagging behind us.
Once I was settled in bed, the comforter drawn up around my ears, my cell phone sitting on my bedside table courtesy of Colleen, I said, “You look like the three bears inspecting Goldilocks, standing there like that.”
The three of them were at the foot of my bed. Mac had his hands shoved in his pants pockets, Maureen’s hands were clasped together as if she were praying, and Colleen was rubbing her tummy again.
“Go. Please,” I pleaded. “Let me sleep. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
I closed my eyes to underscore my desire for them to leave me in peace.
Two sets of lips kissed my cheeks as my sisters told me they’d check on my later.
The one set of lips I craved to do the same, hadn’t.
****
It was dark when I opened my eyes again. Hunger clawed at my belly, loud and insistent noises coming from under the bed covers.
I sat up gingerly, thrilled to discover the dizziness was a mere memory. When I went down the stairs this time, I was in no danger of face planting on a riser.
The light in the kitchen was on, and an amber glow flickered from the living room. The smell of a wood fire filled my senses. Someone had lit the fireplace. From the doorway, I discovered who.
“You’re still here.”
Frayne was sitting on the couch, a laptop nestled on his lap, an open bottled water on the table next to him.
“And you lit a fire.”
He tossed the laptop aside, rose, and wrapped his hands around my upper arms. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Starving. Why are you still here?”
His grip tightened a hair before he released me. “Do you want some of Maureen’s soup?”
“It’s really Nanny’s soup, and you didn’t answer my question.”
“Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ll get us both something to eat and we can…talk.”
I didn’t argue, mainly because I was ravenous.
“Want tea or water?” he asked as he pulled a pot from an undercounter cabinet.
“Water. I can get it,” I added when he turned. After I did, I got us bowls and spoons, then pulled out the loaf of herb bread Maureen left, wrapped, on the counter.
While I set everything on the table, Mac stirred the soup. We didn’t speak until our bowls were filled and we were seated at the table. I got such a profound sense of déjà vu seeing him sitting across from me. The week he’d spent with me was front and center in my mind as I asked him again, why he’d stayed.
The simple shrug he gave me wasn’t as casual as I think he’d meant it to be.
“Your sisters were busy. I wasn’t. It made sense for me to stay and make sure you were okay. They were very worried about the fact you’d fainted. Especially Maureen.”
I gave him my theory on why.
“I can understand her concern, then. She equates the episode with something tragic.”
I nodded and sipped some soup.
“This is delicious,” Frayne said.
“Whenever one of us had so much as a sniffle when we were kids, Nanny would insist on feeding us this. I swear, it shortened our sick time by half.”
“I envy you your grandmother. Your whole family, in fact.”
I let that sit for a minute. “You mentioned earlier you want me to read your manuscript.”
He nodded. “I’d really value your opinion and any thoughts on improving or changing it you may have.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say you value my opinion.”
“Why?”
“You’ve made plain on more than one occasion what you think of me and my profession. And it hasn’t been favorable.”
“Not you, Cathy. Never you.” He reached across and took my free hand.
I jumped in surprise but left my hand in his.
“You’re nothing like any lawyer I’ve met before. You truly care about your clients and on more than a professional basis. You don’t do what you do for riches, or commercial glory, or even public celebrity, but because you have a deep-rooted need for justice and fairness and for what’s right. You want people to be the best they can be. It’s an amazing trait to possess, and you do.”
The soup wasn’t the only thing warming me right then. His words, delivered with sincerity, meant more to me than I could ever have imagined they would.
“That’s a pretty big reversal since the last time we spoke at the courthouse. What’s changed in the past three weeks to make you feel this way?”
He dropped his chin to his chest for a moment, then lifted it again. “I can’t begin to apologize for how horrible I was to you. I acted like a total prick, and I know it. I knew it at the time but couldn’t pull back my anger. It was too…” He shook his head. “It was just impossible to.”
“Why?”
When he answered me, those shadows in his eyes I’d hated seeing once again showed themselves. “I got a phone call that morning from Marci. She’d found out something and wanted to make sure I knew about it before I happened to see it online, or before a tabloid reporter called me for a sound bite.”
Intrigued, I asked, “What was it?”
He pulled in a bracing breath, as if he needed it, then slowly exhaled. “The girl who killed Cheyanne and Mabel was arrested for texting while driving again. She hit a stopped school bus this time.”
“Oh, good Lord.” I squeezed the hand he held, then wrapped my other one around both of them, cocooning them. “Were any of the children hurt or…”
“Thankfully, no one died. Six of the kids did need hospitalization for various injuries. Concussions, one broken arm, and one broken collarbone among them. The girl texting walked away without a scratch.”
“She was arrested, though, right?”
“Yeah. I wanted to head back and speak to the prosecutor, give a victim impact statement or something. Let the court know what the girl had already done, the pain she’d caused.”
“That usually doesn’t happ
en until after a trial and before sentencing.”
“Yeah, the prosecutor mentioned that. I was furious, and I felt so…useless. Because so many children were involved in the accident though, the prosecutor had been getting calls left and right from parents who were pushing him to take her to trial and send her to jail. And he was going to do it.”
“Why do I hear a but? Did she plead out?”
“No. The judge refused to grant bail this time because the prosecutor argued her behavior was a pattern of abuse and simply taking away her driver’s license wasn’t enough. He had her put in juvenile detention, which is a joke because she was just shy of eighteen.”
“What do you mean, was?”
His gaze went hot, the skin dropping down around his lips crevassing into two, deep lines. “She killed herself.”
“Oh, Mac.”
“Apparently, she couldn’t stand being incarcerated with the potential for a prison sentence for her actions. She hung herself with her bed sheet the night she was admitted.”
I didn’t have any words of comfort for him. Nothing I said could ever bring back his family, and saying I was happy that this girl was now dead sounded awful, in addition to being untrue.
Mac, God bless him, echoed my thoughts.
“When I found out she was dead, I waited for the feeling of elation, of vindication to come. She can’t hurt anyone else, kill anyone else’s family, destroy any more lives.” The expression in his eyes moved from anger to sadness. “It never came. All I can feel is such a profound sense of waste and loss.”
“That’s because you’re a good man. You’re not the kind to harbor vengeance.”
“I thought I was. Deep down.”
“Trust me, you’re not. Hate like that isn’t in you. I may not know many things, but I know that.”
His fingers pressed against mine. “Thank you for believing that.”
I went to stand, but he held on to my hand, keeping me in place.
“I’m disgusted with myself for how I treated you in the courthouse. I projected my anger about this girl and how the judicial system handled everything concerning her onto you, which is wrong. You had nothing to do with any of it. But I made you a target for my anger, and for that I’m so, so sorry. I can’t even ask for your forgiveness because I don’t deserve it.”
