Forever Grace (7 page)

Respond
, a voice deep in her brain urged.
Say something
.

Her throat worked, but no sound emerged.

Sean struggled to rise from the couch, his gaze becoming alarmed. “Grace—”

She turned and fled.

What the hell?

Sean stared after Grace for a full thirty seconds before he thought to lever himself up from the couch, tucking a crutch under each arm. Then he stood, staring some more. Did he go after her as instinct urged? Stay out of it as she had suggested last night?

She’d made it clear, more than once, that she didn’t want to talk. Wouldn’t talk.

But her behavior just now made it equally clear she had a great deal to talk about. Hell, he’d never seen anyone turn that white that fast and still manage to remain on her feet. No, something was definitely going on with her. The question was, did he push, or leave her alone?

With a sigh, Sean gritted his teeth against the pain of being upright—damn, he wished he had his painkillers with him—and swung into action. He made his way down the hallway. The first door on the right stood partly ajar, and he tapped gently before nudging it open with the tip of his crutch. Grace stood with her back to him, Annabelle stretched out on a dresser top before her. The toddler grinned at him, waving a stuffed giraffe.

“Man owie!”

Grace’s shoulders went stiff. She didn’t turn. “Did you need something?”

Her voice wobbled, and Annabelle patted her arm. “Mama cry.”

He’d figured as much. Sean cleared his throat. “I just wanted to check on you. You seemed—”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted. “I’m just changing Annabelle, and then I’ll be out to make coffee. We’ll get you back to your cottage as soon as it’s light enough.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Hell, he didn’t quite know how he
had
upset her, though at a guess, he’d say it had something to do with her sister.

“I’m fine.”

“Grace —”

“I’m
fine
, Mr. McKittrick.” A sniffle undermined her declaration, but she fired a fierce, tear-bright glower over her shoulder that warned him in no uncertain terms to back off. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Tight-lipped, Sean withdrew from the room, closing the door awkwardly behind him. He turned to find Josh standing in the gap of another half-open door.

“Is Aunt Grace all right?” the boy asked.

“She’s fine,” Sean said, knowing Grace would have his head if he suggested otherwise. “She’s just changing Annabelle.”

Josh hesitated, then nodded an acceptance not reflected in his solemn gaze. Sean started to scowl, but swiftly wiped his brow clear when the boy took a step back. Damn it to hell, but the kid was jumpy. Josh’s gaze slid past him to Grace’s bedroom door.

Jumpy and smart. He knew full well something was up with his aunt. And Sean knew full well the boy would be in that room like a shot as soon as the way was clear. He needed to stall him, to give Grace room to recover.

“I owe you an apology,” he said gruffly.

Josh’s gaze flew back to his.

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when I found you on my deck yesterday.”

“I was trespassing.”

Sean’s mouth quirked. “Technically, yes. But you weren’t hurting anything, and I didn’t need to be that harsh. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, sir. For making you fall.”

Sir
? Who the hell taught their kids to say that anymore? Sean coughed to cover his surprise. “You didn’t make me fall.
I
made me fall.” He waved one of the crutches aloft. “Truth is, I’m a total klutz on these things. Ask your aunt. If she hadn’t caught me at least twice along that path last night, I would have been sleeping in the shrubbery.”

A tiny smile pulled at Josh’s mouth.

Sean returned the gesture, then balancing carefully, he held out a hand. “Friends?”

Josh’s smile disappeared. He withdrew into the bedroom behind him. “I should get dressed,” he said. “Aunt Grace needs my help.”

Just like that, Sean found himself staring again, this time at the painted panel of a closed door. What was it with this family? He scowled. Grace’s reticence, Josh’s jumpiness and the distinct alarm in his eyes just now…everything about them was off. Not a lot off, just a little. Just enough to make him curious.

Grace leaned her forehead against the door, listening to the sound of Sean’s crutches retreating down the hallway, wrestling with the urge to drag out the suitcases and begin pitching their belongings into them.
Breathe, Grace,
she told herself.
Think this through
.

That they’d aroused Sean’s curiosity, she had no doubt, especially after that exchange with Josh and her own flight from the living room. It still didn’t mean she needed to go off the deep end reaction-wise. Sean was just a neighbor. A guy who happened to live in the cottage next door. That didn’t mean he had any connection to Barry, and it sure as hell didn’t mean she had to uproot the kids again.

Besides, where would they even go? She didn’t have unlimited funds, and the more they moved around, the more they exposed themselves. Their weekly trips into Perth for groceries were nerve-wracking enough, even though she followed the careful instructions given to her by Paul Kingsley, Luc’s private investigator: never go on the same day of the week, never go at the same time of day, never go to the same stores, and never get drawn into conversation. Err on the side of caution.

She made herself inhale. Exhale. Swallow.
Caution, Grace, not paranoia.

It was a fine line between them these days.

Annabelle tugged at her pajama leg. “Raff,” she said, holding up the stuffed giraffe.

Grace dredged up a smile. “It’s a beautiful giraffe,” she agreed.

No, she wouldn’t panic.

“Raff owie.”

She’d stay calm…

“Raff owie.”

…get Sean back to his own cottage…

“Raff owie, mama. Raff owie!”

…and then they’d all go back to life as usual, because…

“Raff owie, raff owie, raff owie!” Annabelle wailed, wrenching Grace’s thoughts back to the immediate.

She crouched beside the little girl to calm her, but too late. The toddler evaded her and flopped onto the floor with a screech that all but shattered Grace’s skull. She regarded her niece wearily. Great. This was just what she needed.

A tap sounded at the door, and she reached up to twist the handle. Josh stood outside, dressed and looking remarkably awake, given the hour.

“Want some help?” he asked.

Grace debated the offer. Normally she’d just plop Annabelle into the crib and wait out the tantrum, but even that seemed too much work this morning. She waved her nephew in.

Josh sat down on the floor beside his little sister and stroked her hair. “Hey, Annabelly,” he said over her commotion. “What’s the matter?”

Ah, the magic touch of an adored big brother. Grace watched in bemusement as Annabelle stopped mid-shriek and sat up, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

She held her toy out to Josh, telling him, in between hiccups, “Raff—owie—’eg.”

“Giraffe has an owie on his leg?”

Breathing in great sobs, Annabelle nodded. “Raff owie ‘eg.”

Josh looked over at Grace. “I think she wants it to have a cast on its leg. Like Mr. McKittrick. Can I use a Band-aid from the first-aid kit?”

If it would bring peace back to the house? Grace nodded. “Please,” she said. “Be my guest.”

Josh popped back to his feet with the nimbleness of youth and held a hand out to his sister. “Come on, Annabelly. Let’s go fix Mr. Giraffe.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Grace called after them. “As soon as I’m dressed.”

The door closed behind the pair. Despite her words, she remained where she was, still crouched, for a long minute. They’d all been keeping it together so well, learning to function as a family, ignoring the specters hovering over them: the very real possibilities that Julianne would die and that Barry would find them. Grace grimaced.

Sean’s presence, however, clearly illustrated they hadn’t been keeping it together well at all. Josh’s reaction to him. Her own knee-jerk paranoia. And worse, the growing, hardening lump in the center of her chest every time Sean asked a question and she held back, too afraid to answer because she knew—with absolute certainty—that she would begin to unravel if she did.

With a groan, Grace pushed to her feet.
Just a little while longer
, she told herself. As soon as it was light enough, they’d get Sean back into his own cottage and out of their lives, and then she’d call Luc. Find out how Julianne was doing, tell him about his neighbor’s appearance, and dispel her last, lingering doubts about said neighbor.

But first…

She reached for the jeans she’d discarded on the floor by the bed the night before, then took a clean, long-sleeved t-shirt from the dresser. She pulled it over her head and lifted her hair free. Then she tightened her jaw, swallowed hard, and wiped away another stealthy tear.

First, she needed to get Sean to stop asking those damned, well-meaning questions. And the only way she could do that was to give him just enough in the way of answers.

SEAN LOOKED UP FROM POURING
coffee into two mugs as Grace entered the kitchen. She wore jeans again today, and a blue long-sleeved t-shirt that hugged a little more closely than the yellow one of the day before. He held up the coffee pot.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

Her step faltered, and she jammed her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. Then she shook her head. “Of course not. But do you think you should be doing so much?”

Balancing on his crutches, he twisted to set the pot back on its pad. “I’m supposed to be fending for myself altogether, remember?”

“And you really think you can do that?” she asked as he teetered.

“It’s all a matter of practice.” He righted himself with a grin. “Now, how do you take your coffee?”

“Just black, thanks.”

He slid a cup across the counter and watched her perch on a stool, head bent and face hidden from him. He sighed. “Look, Grace, I’m not trying to be nosy, but—”

“She’s in a coma,” she said softly.

Sean stared at the dark, bowed head, not sure he’d heard right. “I beg your pardon?”

“My sister. The kids’ mother.” Grace looked up to meet his gaze, her deep chocolate eyes raw with grief. “She’s in a coma.”

“Jesus,” he breathed. He set his crutches against the counter and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the chipped laminate surface. A glance toward the hallway assured him none of the kids were there. He pitched his voice low anyway. “Grace, I had no idea. I’m sorry. How long?”

“A little over a month.”

“Will she—do they—” He didn’t know how to continue. How the hell did one phrase a question like that?

“They don’t know. There’s minimal brain activity, but they say as long there’s any at all, there’s hope.”

“Do the kids know?”

She pressed her lips together. Nodded.

“So that’s why you’re hiding out here.”

She flinched, her eyes widening. “H-hiding?”

“For the kids’ sake. I don’t imagine they’re up to facing school and friends right now.”

A quick recalibration took place behind her expression—so subtle, he almost missed it. So fast, he didn’t have time to react before she shook her head.

“No. No, you’re right. They’re not. We don’t talk about it. I think we’re afraid if we do…” She trailed off and looked away, blinking back a sheen of tears.

Sean reached out to cover her forearm with his hand, pressing gently. “Hey,” he said. “Positive thoughts.”

Grace sniffled. He nudged her coffee mug closer to her.

“Drink,” he said. “You’ll feel better. Or at least more awake.”

She picked up the mug and rewarded him with a watery smile. A little thrill of triumph ran through him. He smiled back, resisting with every fiber of his being the sudden urge to sweep back that dark curtain of hair.
Whoa there, McKittrick. Down, boy.
He cleared his throat.

“So, tell me—what can I do to help?”

Grace’s smile vanished. “What?”

To be honest, the question had surprised him as much as it had her, but he pushed away his misgivings. It was the human thing to do, after all. Nothing more, nothing less. He shrugged.

“I mean it. What can I do to help? I know I’m a little laid up at the moment, but there must be something. Color pictures with Sage, entertain Annabelle, read stories.” He gave her his most disarming grin. “I happen to have it on good authority that I do a superior
baaa
.”

Grace turned bright red and choked on the coffee. Sean tried to pat her on the back and nearly fell over in the effort, and Grace ended up lunging forward to grab a fistful of his shirt to steady him.

“
Please
don’t fall again,” she said. “I don’t think either my nerves or your cast can take it.”

“Not to mention the damned leg
in
the cast.”

Balance restored, Sean clenched his jaw against the wave of pain following the unexpected movement. He closed his eyes and let his head hang between the outstretched arms clinging to the counter. “Freaking hell, that hurts.”

“Are you all right?”

He let out a hiss of air. “I will be. Just give me a sec.”

He hadn’t taken any of Grace’s codeine tablets this morning, anticipating a return to his own heavier-duty and much-needed medication. Now he questioned the wisdom of that decision, especially in the face of the trek he still had to make back to his own cottage. He shuddered at the thought. Oh, yeah. Codeine was definitely in order before he did that. At least it would take off some of the edge. Not much, but some.

He finally unglued his eyelids to find Grace regarding him ruefully.

“I think that answers your question about helping, don’t you?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

Grace glanced over her shoulder, then back at him. “Bull,” she said. “I appreciate the offer, Sean, but you’re in no shape to be helping anyone right now. You need to be off that leg and looking after yourself.”