My Everything (25 page)

“Why would you need to hire someone?”

“Well, you can’t take care of me, and judging by the number of tubes I’ve got sticking out of me and the way my insides feel, I’m going to need some assistance.”

Her father smiled at her then, an annoying wise father-like smile.

“What?” she asked, confused by the look in his eyes.

“I think Ben might have something to say about that.”

“Oh, god, Ben.” Grace fell back down onto the pillow. “Why would Ben want to have anything to do with me? In case you don’t know, I nearly got his sister killed. She’s okay, isn’t she? Please tell me Angel is okay.”

“Angel’s fine. She’s a delightful girl.” Her father winked at her, grinning now through his tears. “She’s talking about taking up distance running. Reminds me of someone.”

Grace tried to smile. “Sorry, Dad, I’m really exhausted. I don’t think I can talk anymore. Do you mind if I close my eyes?”

“No, Gracia, you rest. I love you, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thanks, Dad. I love you too. I’m glad you’re here.”

Grace lowered the head of her bed and shut her eyes. She felt drained. In her mind’s eye, she pictured herself lying on the pavement with Angel wrapped in her arms, her own life’s blood draining out of her. That’s why she’d thought Angel was wet. It was her own blood soaking her.

Then her body jerked, and she opened her eyes, searching the empty room. Josh had been there with her in Bakersfield. It all came back now‍—‌how beautiful, healthy and peaceful he looked, and Ben and the paramedics working on her. What had Josh said? She closed her eyes again and made an effort to recall every single word of their conversation.

“Grace.”

Ben sounded like he hadn’t slept in a month. His voice made her tremble. Grace was afraid to open her eyes. She didn’t want to face his wrath no matter how deserved. Maybe he’d think she was unconscious and go away.

“Grace, I know you’re awake. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Grace squeezed her eyelids tighter. Her breathing became irregular, not because she was short of breath but because he was in the room. She couldn’t face him and stand by helplessly, or to be more precise, lie there helplessly and watch him walk out of her life forever because of her own stupidity. She’d come back because she loved him. She couldn’t bear to lose him now.

She felt the warmth of his breath against her face. He was close. Very close. Grace opened her eyes just as his lips descended on hers. Hers parted in surprise, and he was there, kissing her like he meant it, like he wasn’t angry in the slightest. More like he was starving.

She put a hand on his chest in a weak attempt to stop him. The nurse in her wondered what kind of man wanted to kiss a woman who had been on a ventilator for two weeks. But Ben brushed her hand away as if it were nothing more than an annoying mosquito, and he kissed her anyway. As her piano teacher used to say,
affetuoso
, with feeling and
con fuoco
, with fire.

Oh, yeah. He most definitely meant it. Her eyes closed involuntarily. Then his lips were gone.

“Open your eyes, Grace,” came that demanding voice again.

This time she complied. If that had been a little piece of heaven she’d glimpsed behind Josh, then the sight of Ben’s face was heaven on earth.

“I won’t mince words,” he said. “You’re too weak to listen to a long speech and I don’t want to waste any time. I love you. I want you to marry me.”

Grace stared at him. She cleared her throat and brushed her bruised lips lightly with her fingertips.

Ben continued in the same voice. “No is not an option.”

“Is yes an option?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“Yes is the only acceptable answer.”

“Then I guess my answer is yes,” she said, grinning a very crooked grin.

“Good,” replied Ben with a matching grin of his own. “Now you can go back to sleep. You’ll need your rest for the next nine months.”

He winked at her and strolled out through the curtained doorway.

“Hey!” she called after him, her voice hoarse. “Hey! Ben McCall, get your ass back in here! On the double! What the hell did you mean by that remark?”

Ben poked his head into the room. “Twins,” he said, and he vanished again.

Grace grabbed the only object in reach, a full pink plastic water pitcher, and she heaved it through the curtain after him. She heard it splat against something, and she hoped it was Ben and not some sick patient.

“By George, I think she’ll live.” She heard Tom speak in a clipped British accent. His words were followed by the raucous laughter of who knew how many people standing out near the nurse’s station.

“Goddamn it, Ben,” Grace panted. “Get your ass in here before I pull every tube and come out there after you!”

“Better get in there,” said Tom. “She’ll do it, man. Grace doesn’t make idle threats.”

Ben slid around the curtain and stood with his hands folded, pretending to look meek and contrite but failing miserably.

“What exactly did you mean by that last remark?”

He walked over to the side of the bed. “I think you’d better lie down.”

“I am lying down.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “Then I’d better lie down.” He lowered the safety rail and gently scooted her over, tubes and all and lay down beside her in the very small hospital bed. He slid an arm beneath her, nestling her into the curve of his shoulder.

Grace sighed with pleasure. This was where she wanted to be, safe and secure in Ben’s arms.

For a long time Ben didn’t say anything and Grace closed her eyes, too exhausted to ask any questions.

“You’re pregnant,” he said, “Probably with twins.”

Grace’s eyes popped open. “Huh?”

“You’re pregnant, love. And, according to the blah-blah-blah levels in your blood, it’s more than one baby.”

Grace felt like her head had just been emptied of every single thought. At last she said, “So let me get this straight. I’m pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“And according to the chorionic gonadotropin levels in my blood, it looks like it may be multiple babies. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“It’s very early.”

“I know.”

“A lot can happen. A lot has happened. Are you sure? Have they done anything that can hurt the babies?”

“No, they’ve been careful.”

“You’re sure?”

“Very sure.”

“About the pregnancy or about me?”

“I want all of you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

What had Josh said?
Name one of them for me
…

“Ben?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can we name the boy Joshua?”

“How do you know one is a boy?”

“I just know.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes. I want to name the boy Joshua.”

“Whatever you want.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a while. Grace was nearly asleep when she heard Ben’s voice again. “Why the hawk?”

“Mmm,” she replied, her voice low, just above a whisper. “Freedom.”

“Freedom from what?” he asked.

Grace searched for the right words. “Gravity, fear, pain, loss, rules, the ties that bind. Freedom to fly above it all.”

“Do you want to be above it all, Grace?”

“No,” she said, “Not anymore.”

My Everything◊J. R. Barrett

Spring

Ben rolled over
in bed and reached for his squalling son. He lifted him deftly out of the small cradle and handed him to Grace. She had already retrieved Jules. He piled some pillows behind Grace’s back and helped her to sit up. Josh soon joined his brother for breakfast.

“Lucky boys,” he said, “Lucky boys.”

“They definitely take after you.” Grace laughed, her grip firm on the month-old twins.

Ben caressed their downy heads. Jules looked like his mother with a shocking amount of chestnut brown curls. Josh was just now beginning to sprout dark brown hair like his own. Ben leaned over the boys to kiss his wife.

“When’s it my turn?”

“When they go to college maybe?” Grace teased him. “They should be drinking out of a cup by then, don’t you think?”

Ben studied his boys. “If they take after me, they’ll each find their own pair to play with by the time they’re fourteen.”

She kicked at him under the covers.

Ben watched his wife as she nursed their sons. Her eyes were closed, and a hint of a smile played about her lips. Despite all that had happened in the past ten months, Grace seemed calm, happy and fulfilled.

He loved the fact that she’d carried his sons and delivered them healthy and whole despite her own long recovery. He loved every little change in her body. He loved her. She was softer now than she’d been before her pregnancy, but not much. Nursing twins used up so many calories that the baby weight rolled off her like rain. Two weeks after the births, she was back to running. During her pregnancy she’d taken up cycling and swimming. She’d tried in vain to convince Ben and her doctors to let her run as long as she promised to keep it under five miles, but the answer was, nothing doing.

After her discharge from the hospital, Ben had flown with Grace and her father back to her home in Nebraska so she could recuperate in her own bed. Ben had learned pretty quickly that the hardest thing about her recuperation was keeping her quiet. The woman refused to stay down for long. Grace was more like her father than she thought. She definitely did things her own way.

The day Ben had dreaded arrived. Grace had insisted upon looking at her scars. He’d hoped he could convince her to wait until the redness had diminished. Her scars didn’t matter to him, but he was afraid for her. She’d been perfect before Roger came along.

He’d reluctantly helped her into the bathroom and watched Grace study them while he held a mirror for her, front and back. She’d examined the entry wound, the exit wound, the small scars from the two chest tubes and the thin crescent-moon line thoracotomy scar that arched from her upper left chest to her mid back. She’d stared for a long time.

Finally Ben had set down the mirror and taken her into his arms.

“It means nothing,” he’d said, smoothing her hair. “You’re perfect in my eyes.”

Grace had remained silent for a few moments. Finally she’d replied, “I don’t have to be perfect. Good is good enough.” She’d cried against his chest and then she’d dried her eyes.

He’d helped her back into bed, and watched her do the prescribed breathing exercises.

She’d bounced back quickly.

It was one of the things Ben loved about Grace. If she fell, she bounced back up. The only thing that ever knocked the fight out of her was a bad migraine, but the headaches seemed to disappear altogether after the first three months of her pregnancy.

When Grace had completely recovered, he’d left her with Harlan and flown to Los Angeles. He’d arranged to resume his partnership with Tom and Aris Security. He’d work mainly from Austin. He’d need to fly back to California at least once a month, but that wouldn’t be a hardship.

Ben had borrowed the Aris jet to retrieve Grace and fly her to Costa Rica. She’d become as enamored with the country as he was, and they’d decided to keep Ben’s property as a second home, but they’d returned to the States, bringing Ben’s dog back with them. Together they’d bought a home in the hill country outside Austin.

They were married there, beneath a manzanita tree.

With the birth of his sons, Ben felt as if he himself had been reborn. The fates or the gods or somebody had conspired to give him a new life, and he didn’t intend to miss a minute of it.

Ben realized he must have dozed because when he opened his eyes both boys had been fed, their diapers changed, and they were sound asleep in their cradles.

Grace stretched her body against his, her erect and very full nipples pressed against his bare back. Her arm lay over his hip and she stroked him. He stirred, hard as a rock beneath her fingers within seconds.

“Is that a gun under your pillow or are you happy to see me?” Grace murmured in his ear.

Ben laughed. He turned toward her, one hand sliding along the silky curve of her hip, the other hand tangling possessively in her hair, exactly the way she liked it. Grace whimpered in response to his touch.

“Can we?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her voice was husky with desire. “Oh yes.”

Ben had been a patient man for over a month. No more. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t want foreplay. Burying himself inside her was all he could think about. Ben raised himself on his arms and covered her with his powerful body. He felt as if he would burst if he didn’t make love to Grace right now.

He pressed his cock against her, and Grace sensuously slid her hands down his flanks and settled her palms against his muscular buttocks, urging him inside. She sighed with pleasure at the sensation of their joining.

Ben thrust carefully at first, worried he’d hurt her, but soon he completely surrendered any illusion of control he had. He rocked against Grace in a strong, steady rhythm, hearing her call his name over and over, watching her tousled mane of hair toss in a tangle of gold against the pillow while her hands clutched at him.