Love Comes Home (13 page)

The three men arrived at Griff's room and heard laughter. Josh stepped in, followed closely by Rod and Dr. Michaelson, to see his son smiling and chuckling at Rachel as she made funny faces while telling him a story.

“So you see—oh, here's your dad.” Rachel hastily stood; a hesitant smile played at the corners of her mouth. She'd acquired a pair of green scrubs, which hugged her form attractively.

“Dad,” Griff exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

Josh rushed to his son's side and gave him a fierce hug. Overwhelmed by love and relief, his voice broke. “I'm so thankful you're okay.”

Griff sniffed. “I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have left the group.”

“No, you shouldn't have. But we can talk about that later.” He put his heart in his smile as he gazed
with love at his boy. He was aware of Rachel as she walked around the bed and hugged Rod. Annoyed that she hadn't reacted that way with him, Josh said stiffly, “Thank you, Rachel, for everything.”

She turned startled eyes on him. “You're welcome, Josh.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, craving for her to show him the same affection she so easily doled out to the rest of his family.
Get a grip, man. You'll never be a priority in her life.
Chief of staff. That was her goal, not him.

He broke the eye contact because it was too painful to get lost in her winter-blue gaze.

He smoothed back a lock of Griff's hair that had fallen over the awful goose egg on his forehead. “Good thing you have such a tough noggin,” he teased, trying to distract himself from the allure of Rachel's presence.

Behind him, he heard Rachel murmur something to his father and then she left along with Dr. Michaelson. Some of the energy in the room left with her and Josh sagged into a chair, acknowledging how much he'd depended on her today. That had to end here and now. She would leave in the morning. And with her she would take a piece of his heart, just as she'd done the first time she'd left.

 

All that had transpired in the past few hours hit Rachel with the force of a dump truck, and a quiver shook her bottom lip. She staggered to the wall.

She'd worked in the E.R. where her mother had died.

And she had survived.

Her mind was a jumbled, chaotic mess. And her emotions were riding a runaway roller coaster.

The first few moments after she'd walked through the swinging doors, choking memories had reared to life. But then she'd realized that nothing was as she remembered it. The tall doctor with the sad, brown eyes, who'd informed her that her mother was dead, wasn't there.

Logically she acknowledged he'd be past retirement age by now. But his face had haunted her nightmares.

But the biggest difference and the greatest healing came when she noticed that many of the triage techniques she'd implemented in her own hospital and others around the country had been duplicated at Sonora Community.

The attending had been more than gracious and overflowing with compliments as he'd explained how the papers she'd written and had published in popular medical journals over the past few years had changed the procedures of Sonora Community's E.R.

Tears welled in her eyes and a cleansing sob broke free as a huge weight was lifted from her chest. Her mother hadn't died in vain. Knowing that helped her to release the anger and bitterness she'd harbored toward the doctors and staff of the hospital.

And she wouldn't have ever had that confirmed if Josh hadn't asked her to stay with Griff.
Thank you, God, for using Griff and Josh to heal me.

Josh's trust meant so much, yet his harsh words came floating back:
I have to protect him from you.

He trusted her as a doctor but not as a woman. She supposed she should be thankful that at least he'd
acknowledged her capabilities as a physician. There was a measure of comfort in his acknowledgment.

She shuddered as she recalled the panic and fear in his eyes out at the lake. When he'd first seen Griff lying there on the ground, she'd seen the flash of agony in his face and had known he'd thought for an instant that his son was dead. His relief was tangible.

His admission that he'd froze came as a surprise. Not that he'd recognized his reaction but that'd he'd admitted as much. She could only imagine what saying those words to her had cost him, showing any weakness to the person he'd accused of breaking his heart. Compassion and tenderness had welled up inside her. Josh was mature enough to expose his fallibility.

But when he'd taken her hand in the ambulance and held on as if she were his lifeline, her already tightly strung nerves nearly shattered, leaving her a bit dizzy with… She couldn't grasp what she'd felt in those moments.

Hunger for more, a certain amount of pride that he'd needed her, hope that maybe he could begin to accept her and her drive to make a difference. She didn't know which emotion was prominent or if they'd just bunched together into a single, unidentifiable glob.

Then he'd done something that had made even that jumbled-up mess of emotions pale in comparison. He'd said yes when asked if they were Griff's parents.

He couldn't possibly know the deep, soul-piercing pain he'd caused her.

The kicker had come when he'd entered the room after Griff had awakened. His very polite and indifferent thank-you had warred with the look in his eyes.

For a long, tense moment there'd been a yearning she hadn't seen in a very long time. An answering need had awakened in her, a longing to reach out to him and hold him close, only to be shot down as the look in his eyes shifted to something hostile and dangerous. As if he'd just remembered who and what she was. The woman he didn't want in his life, the woman he'd accused of breaking his heart. The woman he didn't love.

She'd have to remember that. He didn't love her. His heart mourned for his wife. Thinking him a wounded soul kept her from indulging in self-pity. She couldn't compete with a dead woman. She couldn't compete with his ideals. She didn't want to, she told herself sternly.

She'd made a promise and she intended to keep her side of the deal, for Griff's sake and to prove to Josh she could be a part of Griff's life without causing him irreparable damage. Through Griff she could take care of Josh and fulfill her promise to Mom G. That was the only way it was going to happen.

With that thought solidly established, Rachel headed for the one place that had always made her feel needed, the one place she could lose herself and calm her own frazzled nerves. She headed for the E.R. in hopes they could use some help.

Hours later, Rachel rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension in her bunched-up muscles. The clock on the E.R. wall read twelve-thirty in the morning. She slipped into the elevator, pushed the button for Griff's floor and leaned against the metal wall.

She'd been working for a long time and she was exhausted, but calmer. These hours spent doing what she'd been trained to do reminded her how much she
loved her job, how much meaning her life held. And knowing that she'd conquered her demons lifted her spirits in a way she hadn't felt before.

The elevator opened and she exited. The dimly lit hall revealed a lone nurse sitting at the nurses' station. The woman smiled at Rachel. Rachel pointed down the hall. The nurse nodded and resumed whatever she'd been doing.

Rachel moved soundlessly to Griff's room. She wanted to check on him and make sure he slept comfortably. She was almost certain to find Josh in the room, as well, and she hoped he'd found some rest, too.

As she eased open the door, a muffled sound met her ears. She frowned and stepped into the room. Griff slept peacefully, his face young and innocent in repose. In the chair next to the bed sat Josh. His head was bowed and one of his hands held Griff's hand.

Josh was crying.

T
ears streamed down Josh's cheeks and his breathing came shallow and fast. Immediately Rachel's gaze jumped back to Griff. Her heart pounded with dread until she saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She let out a relieved breath. He was sound asleep.

Her attention turned back to the big man sitting there weeping and her heart contracted painfully in her chest. She tried to reconcile this hurting man to the strong man who'd anchored her when her own torrent of tears threatened to sweep her away. The need to comfort, the need to help, propelled her forward. She reached his side and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “Josh?”

He stiffened. The feel of him recoiling hurt, but she held her ground just as he had when she'd needed to grieve. She owed him this kindness and she stayed because her very essence wouldn't permit her to retreat. She was a healer; she couldn't walk away from someone in need.

Especially if that someone was Josh.

Rachel squeezed Josh's shoulder, the muscles beneath her palm rock hard and solid. He raised his head; the ragged expression on his strong, handsome face tore at her heart. He stared straight ahead.

“What are you doing here?” His lowered voice rang with harshness.

“I came to check on you both.”

“We're fine.”

Right. “It shows.”

He flinched and wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand.

“Josh, what's wrong?”

A long silent moment passed. He was fighting to stay in control. She understood what that was like, the energy and the concentration it took to keep from being vulnerable to the emotions that threatened to overwhelm and destroy. She took a deep breath, wanting to help, to take away whatever it was that was eating at him, even if he didn't want her to. “Remember what you said to me?”

He didn't respond.

She kneeled next to the chair and turned his face toward her with her hand, his stubbled jaw prickly to her touch. His tortured eyes, looking bleak and lost, ripped at her soul. She had to help him.

“‘You have to let it out or it will eat away at you.'” She quoted the words he'd spoken to her that day when she'd cried in his arms. “Josh, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I can't. You don't want to know.”

The suffering in his voice brought fresh tears to clog her throat. She laid her hand on his cheek, her thumb gently caressing.

His eyes closed briefly, accepting her offer of solace. Satisfaction flowed through her. Empathy for his pain tightened her chest. Such a strange mix of emotions.

He pulled away. “I don't deserve your comfort or your concern.”

The utter lack of emotion in his hushed voice sent a shiver down her spine and started the reconstruction of the wall around her heart. She withdrew her hand, stung that even now he would push her away. At least she'd tried. “Don't deserve or don't want?”

“There's no absolution for what I've done.”

The self-recriminations in his tone made her shake her head. “Griff's accident was not your fault. He's going to be okay.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I know that. Griff's the only thing I've done right in my life.”

His cryptic remarks confused her. “That's not true. You help people every day doing your job.”

He shot her a sharp glance. “Yeah, well. A career doesn't make up for a lost life.”

“A lost life…” Realization dawned. “Andrea.”

His gaze grew distant; his body drew inward, closing Rachel out. She'd known Josh mourned his wife, but she hadn't really understood how deep his grief went.

“You must have loved her a great deal,” she whispered past the lump in her throat.

She didn't know what to say to ease his pain. Or her own. Behind her wall of defense, the tiny corner of her heart that held the dream of Josh's love withered. Even if she could stay longer than she intended, she didn't stand a chance against the memory of the love he and Andrea had shared.

He glanced at Griff, then gave a sharp negative shake of his head before abruptly standing and moving by the window.

Rachel rose. Her heart hammered in her chest. What had he meant? That he hadn't loved Andrea or that he wasn't going to talk to Rachel about his wife? She watched him for a long, tense moment. His rigid stance screamed isolation, but the agony marring his handsome features belied his body language.

She'd promised Mom G. she'd take care of Josh. She'd wanted to fulfill the promise through Griff. But she needed to reach out to Josh. He'd unknowingly helped heal her scarred soul. It was her turn to help him.

Grim determination straightened her spine. She didn't want Griff to wake up and see his father so distressed. She closed the distance between them and laid a hand on Josh's arm.

He looked down at her hand, then met her gaze. She sucked in a breath at the torment in his eyes. “For Griff's sake, please let me help.”

His jaw tightened.

“Stubborn man,” she muttered with frustration.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, reminding her of when he'd said the same thing about her. Rachel narrowed his gaze on him as an idea formed. He'd wrapped her in his arms and had refused to let go when he'd said those words.

Not taking the time to rationalize why what she was about to do was dangerous to her heart, she stepped closer and slipped her arms around his waist. His breath hitched and she tightened her hold.

“Rachel,” he groaned, his tone full of warning and longing.

“It's okay. Everything will be okay,” she said into his shirt.

“No.” His hands came down on her shoulders and tried gently to push her away. She refused to budge.

“Everything will never be okay,” he stated in a shattered voice.

“Why?”

He stopped pushing. She leaned back to look up at him. “Why, Josh? Why won't everything be okay?”

“You don't want to know.” His hands dropped away from her and he shifted within the confines of her loosened hold.

Suddenly, holding him seemed awkward and inappropriate. She stepped back and let her arms fall to her side. “Tell me.”

A noise broke from him. Agonizing to hear, full of misery and torture. He didn't answer. He walked to Griff's bedside and stared down at his son. Rachel was almost relieved that he wanted to back away from the heartache of his story, but she could see the suffering in his eyes.

She walked to stand beside him.

He sighed. “You're not going to let this lie, are you?”

“No,” she said softly.

He ran a finger down Griff's cheek. “I love him, you know. More than I love my own life.”

“I know.” She slipped her hand into his, wanting to share her strength. “Let's take a walk so we don't disturb him.”

Josh swallowed and then nodded. They left the room and walked down the corridor. She wasn't sure where to go, but then she realized that Josh had taken the lead. He led them to the hospital chapel. The
softly lit sanctuary was empty. They slid into the back pew.

“Tell me what's eating at you,” she gently prodded.

His gaze shifted from her face to the stained glass window. The misery so clear in his expression tore at her heart. She didn't know what memory was playing behind his glazed, wide-eyed stare, but whatever images he saw were harrowing. His pain made her ache in a way she never had before.
Lord, give me strength to help him.

He closed his eyes, and a violent shudder wracked his body. When he opened his eyes and turned to stare down at her, she drew back at the blank, desolate look.

“I killed my wife.”

Shock reverberated through Rachel. He wasn't serious. He couldn't be. He was only trying to scare her, drive her away. Josh would never kill anyone. She was as sure of that as she was that God loved her and had a plan for her life. Neither belief was tangible, but true just the same.

“Were you driving the car?” she asked, prepared for his answer to be yes.

“No.”

She blinked. “But Mom G. said she'd died in a car accident.”

“She did.”

Those two words left her more confused. “Then how can you be responsible?”

“Because,” he responded fiercely, “she was in that car because of me.”

She frowned. That was so like a guy to not come out with a straight answer. She contemplated him a
moment. Her instincts told her he wouldn't respond to her coddling him, but he would respond to logical and rational reasoning.

Succeeding in a male-dominated profession had taught her to draw her male counterparts out with challenging questions delivered unemotionally. The men in her world wouldn't tolerate an emotional female. She schooled her features into impassivity and said, “But it was an accident, right? How can you be at fault?”

“We'd argued.”

For Josh's marriage to be suddenly cut short in the midst of an argument was undoubtedly a hard blow.

“I should've stopped her. I shouldn't have let her get in the car. I should've never kept…” His voice trailed off and he suddenly looked angry.

“That's a lot of
should have
s,” Rachel stated quietly. “Did you somehow become omnipotent? Do you believe you could have stopped something out of your control?”

His scathing look was razor sharp. “It wasn't out of my control.”

“How could you control an accident?”

“It wasn't just an accident, Rachel. It was so much worse.” He turned back toward the window and fisted his hands. “So much worse.”

Frustrated with him and aching for him all at the same time, she touched his arm. “Tell me what happened.”

“That night I was working late, a double shift. Something I'd been doing a lot then. The nanny called. Said Andrea had locked herself in the bedroom and she could hear things crashing.”

He shook his head as if trying to deny what he was
remembering. “I had to break down the bedroom door. She had torn the place apart. I was…shocked. She threw shoes at me and punched me. I grabbed her and shook her, demanding to know why she was behaving like a lunatic.”

He closed his eyes, and she could only guess at the images in his mind. “She'd been crying. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks stained with her tears. She jerked out of my grasp, screaming at me.”

“Oh, Josh,” Rachel whispered, her chest tightening with anguish for him. “Why was she so angry?”

The misery etching lines in his face made her want to hold him. “She'd found a picture I'd hidden away.”

“A picture?”

With extreme effort she refrained from flinching at the guilt and self-loathing emanating from his eyes.

“The picture of us by our tree,” he said, his voice painful to listen to, the tone ravaged and scarred.

Then the meaning in his words hit Rachel full force and the breath left her body in a rush. He'd saved something of
their
past together. She knew which picture he meant.
The picture of us by our tree.
The tree where they'd found Griff. The tree Josh had carved their initials in, surrounded by a heart.

The week before she'd left for college, they'd driven up to the lake wanting to spend as much time together as possible. Those last few weeks were tense because Josh had been hurt by her refusal of his marriage proposal. That day had been no different.

The entire drive to the lake, they'd fought about her need to become a doctor. He wouldn't compromise. She'd tried to tell him of her mother's death
and the effect it had had on her, but he hadn't wanted to hear.

Finally, in desperation, she'd asked if they could spend a few hours together without thinking about anything but the here and now. And they had. For a few short hours no one else existed. Only their love mattered.

They'd propped the camera on a rock and used the timer to record the moment. But as dusk came, so had reality. They'd driven home in silence, the tension returning. One week later she'd left.

Josh had hidden away that picture. She didn't understand, couldn't begin to make sense of this.

And Andrea… Rachel imagined the pain Andrea had felt, the jealousy she'd experienced when she found her husband had saved a memento of his ex-girlfriend. A sick feeling moved through her. “She drove off in a rage?”

He nodded. The deep grooves around his eyes showed the strain of loss.

“You can't take responsibility for that.”

“It was my fault,” he insisted.

Hurting for him and Griff, she tried to make him see reason. “She was a grown woman. She made the choice to drive while upset. That's not your fault.” Rachel could see the disbelief in the depths of his hazel eyes.

“You don't understand, Rachel. She wrapped her car around that tree on purpose.” He shuddered as if haunted by the memory. “I saw the finality in her eyes as she tore out of the driveway.”

Her mind recoiled from accepting that thought. “You don't know that as fact. Why didn't you tell her the picture didn't mean anything?”

He closed his eyes. His mouth tightened into a grim line as if somehow he could stop the words from coming. She'd pushed him this far; she wasn't going to let him back away from letting out whatever was destroying him inside.

Even as her hand reached for him, she acknowledged that in touching him, she felt connected to him in a way she'd never felt with anyone else.

She rubbed his arm until his hand captured hers. Fascinated, she watched as he brought her palm to his lips. He kissed the tender flesh, then slid his lips to her fingertips before replacing her hand in her lap. She shivered with the impact of those gentle kisses.

“You didn't answer my question,” she stated, her voice shaky.

When he looked at her, the tenderness swirling in the hazel depths of his eyes sent her heart racing. When he spoke, his words made her breathing screech to a halt.