by Neesa Hart
“Hair too long, eyes bloodshot, three-day-old beard,” she guessed.
“I probably didn’t smell that good either.”
“Thanks for the word picture.”
He slanted her a wry smile. “No problem. I’ve been told by some very high-priced PR consultants that I have a rare gift for communication.”
“Let me guess. You started winning awards, and the media wanted to talk to you. All of a sudden, the lab rats who’d been paying you subsistence wages for all that research decided your image wouldn’t help build their war chest full of grant dollars. They decided to bring in some pros to spiff up your image—which they didn’t give a rip about until you put them on the map.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Jerks,” she mumbled. “Where were they when you were working yourself into an early grave?”
He shrugged, his feelings less defined. “It’s different now. I’m different.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Since Grace.”
He nodded. “Since Grace came to live with me,” he spread his hands in an ineffectual gesture, “every day’s a new challenge. I don’t doubt that it’s making me a little crazy. Before, everything was black and white. Research either revealed answers or it didn’t. Data was quantitative. Lab results could be measured and analyzed. Now, everything’s in constant flux.”
Liza swept her menu and silverware aside so she could prop her elbows on the table and studied him, her expression intent. “Anna told me that one of your biggest concerns is the way Grace has withdrawn from you. You said she was in the car crash that killed her mother?”
“Yes. Grace was in the back seat, thank God. If she’d been in the passenger seat, she probably would have died, too.”
“How did it happen?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. They were headed out of town—on the way to see Mara’s fiancé. Mara lost control of the car and smashed into a parked tractor trailer. The front end of her car was demolished.”
“Mara died at the scene.”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes. “At least, that’s what the paramedics told me. The truck had broken down, so the driver had left it on the roadside and gone for help. It was late. As far as I know, no one stopped to help for at least an hour.”
“Oh, Eli.”
“The truck driver returned with a tow truck and discovered the wreck. Grace was conscious and in shock, and Mara was dead. I have no idea what Grace experienced in the interval between the accident and the truck driver’s return. She won’t discuss it.”
“Poor thing. I can’t imagine.”
“Neither can I,” he admitted. “And she’s lost. I look at her, and I know she’s lost. Grace used to be the happiest child in the world. I loved being with her.” He felt a familiar burning in his throat. “We had a unique bond. Grace is the greatest miracle in my life. I lived for her smile.”
“What about now?” Liza prompted.
“She quit smiling.” He shook his head. “She quit laughing. She’s almost quit talking to me. At times, I think she quit living.”
“That accident had to have a terrible effect, Eli. I know it’s hard to be patient, but it’s going to take time for her to recover from that.”
“I know. And I wish I knew exactly what happened that night. Grace won’t talk about it with anyone.”
“Wounds that deep are slow to heal. I know it sounds clichéd—and I wish it didn’t. But you know it’s true.”
“It doesn’t make me any less frustrated.”
“I know. I wasn’t being trite.”
He flashed her a slight smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“You didn’t.” Liza’s eyes registered a warm sympathy that encouraged him to give up his secrets.
He wiped a hand over his face. “And I know it doesn’t help any that Grace has lived with her mother since our divorce. As if the grief of losing her mother wasn’t enough to cope with, she’s having to adjust to living with me.”
“It’s an adjustment for both of you, I’m sure.”
He nodded. “It is. I’m not used to being this accountable for where I am, and what I’m doing. I’m having to adjust to Grace’s insecurities about living with me.”
“It’s not just you, Eli,” Liza assured him, “any child who has lost a parent fears losing the other. It’s normal for her to cling to you a little.”
He’d give his soul to feel like Grace was clinging to him rather than pushing him away. “I’d do anything for Grace, but I’ve run out of plans. I’m counting on Breeland to give her a fresh start. It’s my hope that if we can get out of the city for a while, and away from the memories, maybe she’ll start to open up a little. I can give her more time while we’re down there. I’ve taken a three-month leave of absence from the lab. They’re not even supposed to call me down there.” He gave Liza a piercing look. “This is my last hope. I’m counting on it, and I’m counting on you.”
She didn’t look away. Instead, she laid her hand on his shirt sleeve. “Since I’m going to meet her in the morning, why don’t you tell me about her,” she prompted.
He looked at her fingers for a second, then covered them with his own. “Because I’m not sure I know her.”
Liza’s fingers fluttered beneath his, but she didn’t withdraw her hand. “I think you might surprise yourself, Eli.”
3
And he had, he thought, as he paced the floor of his apartment the following morning. Responding to her gentle prompting, he’d managed to tell Liza all about Grace. Her favorite color. The dress she liked to wear for fancy occasions. How she liked to get up and pour cereal for both of them on Sunday mornings. The name of her stuffed elephant. The way she twirled the curl at her left ear whenever she felt nervous or apprehensive.
Which, he noted, she was doing now. She sat at the dining room table, with her thin legs crossed at the ankles, and watched him pace. With her perfectly combed hair and unnatural stillness, the twitching of her index finger on that curl gave the only sign of her agitation. Eli forced himself to relax.
He smiled at her. “Did you have fun with your grandparents?” She’d been asleep when he’d picked her up the night before.
She nodded—that solemn, polite nod he had grown to hate. “Yes, sir.”
“Grandmother was going to take you shopping at Bergdorf’s. Did she?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you buy anything new?”
“No, sir.” She twirled the curl again.
Eli exhaled a long breath. He crossed the room in a few quick strides to sit next to her. “Sweetheart.” He cupped her face in his hand. She tensed, but didn’t pull away. He considered that an excellent sign. Once, she had flown easily into his arms, but since her mother’s death, she’d developed an aversion to being touched. “Someone’s going to come by this morning. I’d like you to meet her.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “She’s not another doctor, is she?”
He winced. In his desperation, he’d dragged Grace all over the city from specialist to specialist, looking for anything, anyone, who would help him find the child he remembered. He’d gladly give ten years of his life just to hear her laugh again. “No,” he said. “She’s a friend of mine.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed. He could see her processing the information. “What kind of friend?”
Interesting question, he thought. “A good friend. A nice friend.”
“I don’t know any of your friends.”
The statement made his chest hurt. In the months since Grace had come to live with him, he’d had no idea how to fit her into his life. And she’d noticed. He had a strong feeling she didn’t like it, either. “I thought you’d like to meet this one. Her name is Liza.”
“Oh.” Grace hesitated for a long moment. “Do you like her?”
Eli nodded. “Very much.”
“Then I’ll try to like her, too, Father.”
He resisted the urge to try to hug her. She’d rebuff him anyway. She always did,
now. He had never realized how thoroughly he could miss a person until Grace had withdrawn from him. “I don’t think you’ll have to try,” he assured her. “She’s very—” The buzzer rang from the lobby. Eli had already phoned downstairs to tell the doorman to let Liza up. He shrugged. “She’s here.”
“Martin’s not here to let her in,” Grace informed him, in a voice way too old for her ten years. “Today’s his day off.”
“I know. So why don’t we go meet the elevator?”
She hesitated, then slid out of her chair. “Yes, sir.”
Eli resisted the urge to fidget while he waited for the elevator to arrive. He had not, he realized, been nervous about anything since the day he’d delivered his first scientific lecture to a room full of his colleagues. In two days, Liza and Grace had turned him into a wreck. When the elevator doors slid open, his chest tightened again. Liza, clad in yellow jeans and a bright blue tee-shirt, smiled at him. “Hi.”
He nearly drowned in his relief. He had half believed that he’d imagined the effect she had on him. During the night, he’d even begun to question his own sanity. “Hi,” he said. “Sleep well?”
She gave him a wry look. He’d left her at the door of her hotel room with a kiss that had sent steam shooting out his ears. If she’d been half as affected as he, she’d been up most of the night. “Yes,” she said, “although I spent most of the evening on the phone with the faculty at Breeland. I’m afraid your phone bill will be atrocious.”
“I think I can handle it.”
“I hope so. I’m certainly not paying for it.” She turned her attention to Grace. “Hi,” she said, sticking out her hand the same way she’d greeted Charlie the day before. “I’m Liza.”
Grace edged closer to Eli. After several long seconds, she took Liza’s hand. “I’m Grace.”
“Nice to meet you.” Liza pointed to Grace’s shoes. “Hey, cool shoes. I’ve never seen purple ones.”
Grace glanced at her feet. “Oh, my father bought them. I’m not sure where he got them.”
“He’s got good taste.”
Grace glanced at Eli. The uncertainty in her gaze threatened to undo him. He indicated the door. “Why don’t we go in? It’ll give us a chance to talk. Would you like something to eat, Liza?”
Grace led the way down the hall. Liza gave him a dry look. “Are you kidding? They brought me a twenty-five-course breakfast at the hotel. I usually just eat cereal.”
Grace had pushed open the door to the apartment when she turned to look at Liza. Liza seemed to sense the importance of keeping the conversation going. “The truth is, I’m a sugar freak,” she continued. “Actually, I’m a Froot Loops girl, but I’ll settle for Captain Crunch in a pinch.”
Grace’s eyes widened. She seemed captivated by the idea of an adult consuming anything so frivolous. Eli didn’t doubt it. Mara had lived on yogurt and tofu, while he lived on frozen dinners and shredded wheat. Grace leaned slightly closer to Liza. “I like Lucky Charms,” she whispered.
Liza tilted her head in apparent thought. “The cereal part, or the marshmallows?”
“Definitely the marshmallows,” Grace confessed. “I just eat the cereal because I have to.”
“Me, too.” Liza eased her way into the apartment, with Grace close on her heels. Eli stood at the door an instant longer and considered the very real possibility that he was going to fall on the floor in gratitude. He watched Liza set her bag on the coffee table, then sink onto the leather sofa. Grace, who continued to watch her with a mixture of caution and fascination, slid onto the cushion next to her.
“Anyway,” Liza was saying, “I had heard, forever, that I should be eating something really healthy, but I just decided one day that there was no point in denying myself Froot Loops. And,” she leaned closer to Grace, “when I eat Lucky Charms, I don’t even eat the cereal at all. Just the marshmallows. I throw the rest away.”
Grace glanced at Eli. She was playing with her curl again, he noted. He strode across the room to sit on the coffee table facing them. “Grace,” he said quietly, “I don’t think I told you that Liza is a dancer.”
Her fingers stopped twitching. “You are?” she asked Liza.
Liza nodded. “Yes. Your father tells me that you are, too.”
Eli kept his gaze trained on his daughter. She rubbed her palms on the legs of her jeans as she thought about Liza’s comment. “Sometimes,” she said quietly.
“Are you very good?” Liza asked.
Grace looked like she might panic. “I don’t know. I guess so. A little, maybe.”
“Hmm.” Liza leaned back against the sofa. “I don’t know if I’m very good either.” Eli gave her a sharp look, but she continued to focus on Grace. “I used to think it really mattered whether or not I was good at it.”
“Of course it matters,” Grace insisted. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”
“That’s what I thought. Everyone said it mattered, so I believed them.”
Grace shook her head. “I bet you’re really good at it.”
“Maybe.” Liza lifted one shoulder. “Some people say I am. But that’s not what counts.”
Grace frowned. She was looking at Liza like she had a screw loose. “Of course it counts.”
“No, it doesn’t. What counts is whether or not I like it.” She leaned closer to Grace. “Do you like it?” she prompted.
Grace hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Really?” Liza looked at her intently.
Grace looked at her hands. “I suppose I do,” she confessed.
“Me, too.” Liza drummed her fingers on the end of her knee. “What do you like about it? The most, I mean.”
Grace thought it over. “I like the way the music makes me feel.” She frowned as she concentrated. “I like to move when the music makes me move. It flows through me, you know. Sometimes,” she paused. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m flying.”
Liza smiled at her. “So do I.”
“Really?” Grace raised anxious eyes to hers.
“Really. I feel better when I’m dancing than when I do anything else.”
Grace leaned back against the couch. “Me, too.”
Eli held his breath. Liza nodded. “That’s why I like to teach people to do it.”
“You’re a dance teacher?”
“Yes. I work at a school in Georgia. I teach girls to dance there.”
Grace started fiddling with her hair again. She looked at Eli. “Did you know that Liza taught people to dance?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
Grace’s breathing seemed too shallow. She turned her attention back to Liza. “Could you teach me?”
“Would you like me to?” Liza asked.
Grace paused, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Are you willing to come to my school?” Grace drew in a sharp breath, but Liza laid a hand on her small knee. The child didn’t flinch, Eli noted. “Your father could come with you.”
Grace looked at him again. “Would you?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m starting a new class in a couple of days,” Liza told her. “Do you think you could make it by then?”
Grace continued to watch Eli. “I don’t think it would be a problem,” he said.
“Will there be kids my age?” Grace asked.
“Lots of them,” Liza assured her. “And most have never had a dance lesson.”
Grace met her gaze again. “I think I’d really like to learn ballet. I like it best.”
“I teach that,” Liza assured her.
Grace chewed on her lip as she seemed to consider the information. “Would I get to wear toe shoes?”
“We’ll go get them today,” Eli told her. His voice sounded hoarse.
Grace wavered a second longer, then nodded. “I think I’d like to go if it’s okay with my father.”
Liza smiled at her. “Then we’d like to have you.”
Eli saw what he thought, miraculously, was the hint of a smi
le ghost across Grace’s lips. He glanced at Liza, but she was absorbed in something Grace was telling her. So he let the thrill of that slight victory fill him.
* * *
The outdoor temperature neared 100. Even in the air-conditioned room, a blanket of humidity choked out most of the oxygen. Liza adjusted her navy tank top and tried not to squirm in her chair. Though she understood the necessity for it, she hated this part of orientation. She’d arrived in Terrance with Eli and his daughter just in time to catch the welcome speech from the president of the alumnae association. She’d hoped their flight from New York would get in late, sparing her the rhetoric, but fortune hadn’t been so kind.
Instead, she’d made it back to campus with sufficient time to change and make it to the lecture hall for the final speech of the day. A quick scan of the room told her the students were as bored as she was.
Trickles of sweat traced sinuous paths down her back beneath her tank top. The air conditioner couldn’t compete with too many hot bodies in a too small space. The group in this room was the sixth and last to hear the welcome speech and administrative details. The oldest students in the program, they were here to serve as mentors to the younger girls, and their maturity level helped them through the laborious welcome speeches. Liza listened to the chairman drone about the golden days of Breeland while she scanned the room.
Eli Liontakis, looking like a poster boy for the island of male models—that place where men don’t sweat, their clothes don’t wrinkle, their hair always has enough wave to make women want to touch it—strolled into the back of the room.
Blast his eyes.
He’d had her seriously off kilter since last night and he knew it. She’d managed to distract herself today by paying close attention to Grace, but always lurking at the back of her mind was the memory of the way he’d looked at her outside the door of her hotel room.
