by Bird, Peggy
She glared at him as though she could bend him to her will using only her mind. The spacious dining room echoed with the clink of Beau’s knife and fork as he continued to eat his dinner, the dinner he’d spent the afternoon cooking. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see the top of Eva’s head fly off as she gave vent to the anger seething in her gaze.
“I can’t eat my pork chop without the proper utensils,” she ground out, after several long minutes of pouty silence.
“Sure you can. Just pick it up with your fingers. Those still work, don’t they?”
Yeah, that was probably crossing the line. But after the hell she’d put him through over the last few days, Beau couldn’t help it. The woman would try the patience of a saint! He sighed, intending to apologize, but when he looked up, he was shocked to find her doing just what he’d suggested
Eva sat across from him, holding the pork chop between her dainty fingers and nibbling at it carefully. She studiously avoided his eyes now, which was good. He didn’t want her to realize just how much she’d shocked him. He’d won this match, and he intended to savor the victory for as long as it lasted.
The rest of the meal passed without incident. Eva was through with her childish attempts at goading him into losing his temper, or walking out on her, or both. She was silent, reflective. Beau didn’t get the feeling that she was plotting her next scheme. Instead, she seemed almost confused. Had no one ever stood up to her before? No wonder the woman was on a major power trip.
Eva was used to being spoiled, whether it was because she was confined to her wheelchair or because she bullied everyone into doing her bidding. Learning to become more independent would do her a world of good, though Beau highly doubted she’d agree. Lesson one had gone surprisingly well. At least she hadn’t thrown her steak knife at him.
Chapter Four
Eva found herself smiling as she left her bedroom the following morning, in spite of the humbling experience at the dinner table the night before. She gave Beau points for dealing with Super Bitch. She’d felt more alive in the last few days with Beau than she had in the entire five years since the car accident and with the slew of caregivers that came and went through her revolving front door. He took whatever she dished out and had the temerity to push back.
He wasn’t afraid of her. Eva was used to nurses and caregivers who kept their heads down, eyes averted. They were quick to please but made a conscious effort to avoid her while they worked. Beau was different. It was disconcerting. She almost felt like she should apologize for her heinous behavior and everything she’d put him through.
It was her own fault, really. Her terms had been so restrictive, the poor man couldn’t even run home to pack a bag. It was rash, really, and she was lucky she’d even had an extra toothbrush still in its packaging that he could use. She’d been that terrified he’d never return. He must think her an ogre. Resolving to go easier on her new houseguest, Eva rolled down the hall to see if there was any coffee left in the kitchen.
She wheeled around the corner just in time to see Beau coming down the stairs. His carefully controlled movements on the stair treads showed her he’d been trying to escape notice. He was concentrating on his foot placement and didn’t yet realize she was waiting for him at the bottom.
“I thought I told you that you were forbidden to go upstairs?”
In his surprise, he slid down the next two steps before he caught himself. “Yes, Warden, you did tell me that. What is to be my punishment? Am I now in solitary confinement for a week? Bread and water rations?”
“This is my home! I have every right to protect what is mine, any way I see fit. Do not mock me for laying down a few simple ground rules.”
“Take your shoes off at the door. Turn off the light as you’re leaving a room. Hang up your wet towel after you shower. Those are simple ground rules,” he said. “You can’t leave the estate grounds for one month. Don’t go upstairs because it’s not fair that I can’t get up there, too.
Those are not simple ground rules. Those are the demands of a control freak who gets off on bossing other people around.”
“You weren’t complaining when I set those terms almost a week ago. Have you been sneaking up there all along? What have you been getting into?”
“Relax, Princess. This was the first time I’ve gone up there since I’ve been here. I finished the list of chores you left me—thank you for that, by the way—and since I was a little stir-crazy, I figured I’d see if I could learn anything about my spectacularly close-mouthed host.”
“If I’ve been close-mouthed, it’s just because you’ve never asked,” she snapped.
“Fine. How long have you been confined to a wheelchair?”
“Five years, two months, and”—she cocked her head to the side as she thought for a moment—“seventeen days. Not that I’ve counted.” Take that.
“How—”
“I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you respect my privacy by restricting your movements to the ground floor. This isn’t a jail, for goodness’ sake! You’re being a baby.”
Well aware of the question he’d intended to ask, Eva was not ready to reveal that much of herself. Changing the subject, she offered a concession. “Have you explored the grounds yet?”
“Am I allowed, Your Majesty?”
“Oh, enough with the disparaging nicknames, already! There are five acres to this estate; surely you can satisfy your need to roam free out there somewhere.” She backed her chair up to allow him to pass, glancing up when he didn’t make any effort to move.
“There was a painting up there, it looked a little like the rose garden.”
“A little? I’ll have you know I worked for hours to get that just right!” Eva snapped her mouth shut. She’d said too much.
“No, don’t get me wrong. I thought it was really good. It’s just that the garden is so overgrown that it’s kind of hard to imagine it the way it probably once was … ” He trailed off, inviting her to elaborate.
“It was a thing of beauty.”
“Why don’t you paint anymore?”
Pain lanced through her heart, and she wished she’d allowed him to finish his previous question instead.
“I … lost interest.”
“That’s a shame. I find that books bring me a sense of peace when I feel lonely or sad. I imagine painting could be just as cathartic. But perhaps you have something else that helps get you through the rough times.” Trotting down the rest of the stairs, Beau paused to squeeze her shoulder. “I’m going to get some fresh air. Care to join me?”
“Are you joking? I can’t go outside. I’m stuck in this chair, remember?” Bitterness made her words waspish.
“I’d be happy to carry you out to a patio chair.”
“Just go, before I think up another list of things for you to do—inside.”
Eva watched as he waved jauntily before bounding out the door like an eager puppy. Turning her chair, she gazed longingly up the stairs. He was right. Painting had always calmed her. It was pure stubbornness that made her associate it with all the hurt she’d experienced in her life.
• • •
“I’ve seen you staring at your roses every chance you get. So you’re going to sit out here and enjoy them from outside for once.” He poured a steaming cup of after-dinner coffee from the pot on the wrought-iron table into a delicate china cup and nodded at her to take a sip.
“So I like roses, as did my ancestors,” Eva snapped at him, her fingers wrapping automatically around the thin handle. “Is that a crime?”
He could see by the way she held herself that if she’d been able, she would have chosen this moment to storm off. “The crime is having to view your precious roses from inside the house.”
“Yes, well, you certainly took care of that, didn’t you? I am now exactly five feet closer. I can almost smell them if the breeze blows just right.” She was sneering now.
She sure could be a little viper when pushed. What would she do
if he pushed back?
“Would you like to get closer? I can arrange that.” Beau moved to stand up, as though he’d sweep her up in his arms again to carry her down the lawn.
Eva’s eyes widened in panic and something he couldn’t quite place. A tightening in his gut urged him to push further but he tamped it down. Settling back into his chair, he grinned. He shouldn’t have teased her like that. He was starting to see cracks in the shell she’d built around herself, and he wanted to encourage her to open up, not push her away.
“What is it you love about the roses so much?” Beau took a sip of coffee and turned his attention to the garden to take the focus off Eva.
“They remind me of my mother.” She sighed, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she stared into the distance. “You know that photo of me with my grandfather? He introduced me to a love of reading. My mother and I bonded over the roses.” She darted a quick glance over at him, as if she expected him to tease her for this admission. When he didn’t say anything, she continued.
“From the time I was a little girl, I stood at her knee out there, learning all the varieties. Every spring we’d plan improvements, nothing major, just adding new bushes, testing a new variety. She was so proud of them. Mr. Kirkpatrick, our gardener, would do the heavy work. Mother and I would clip the best ones to bring inside and display. In the summers, every room would smell of roses.”
“It’s another reminder for you of someone you’ve lost. But if you have to look at it every day, why don’t you have it kept up?”
“I lost my temper, fired Mr. Kirkpatrick. It’s nothing more than I deserve.” She shrugged, casting her gaze into her coffee cup as she took a sip.
No one deserved to watch something that meant so much to them, something that carried so many personal memories, fall into ruin. But he kept silent on the matter “I really enjoyed spending the day exploring the grounds. You really do have an amazing setup here.”
At this, she snorted outright. “It’s completely wasted on me! What would I do with stables for horses I can’t ride? A tennis court I can’t play on? An Olympic-size swimming pool I can’t swim in? A putting green I can’t use?”
“I get letting go of the staff that maintained all the outdoor amenities. But surely you had someone who cooked and cleaned? House staff?” Beau prompted.
The more he discovered about her, the more he wanted to flesh out the whole picture.
“My housekeeper, Mrs. Potter, and her son were the last to go.” Distractedly, she set her cup on the edge of the saucer, where it wobbled and fell over. With a cry, she lifted it to inspect it for damage.
“Don’t worry. It’s just a chip,” Beau assured her.
“My mother loved this set,” Eva sniffed. She looked so young, so vulnerable.
“What happened, Eva?” He’d been here a week now. It was time he learned.
“I’d like to go inside now. It’s getting chilly.”
“Tell me what happened and I’ll take you inside.”
“Bastard!” A fiery heat snapped in her dark eyes, and she gripped her chair, though she’d probably rather throw one of her mother’s precious pieces of china at him.
“No, actually,” Beau replied. “My mother died when I was five years old, just after giving birth to my twin brothers. But up until that day, she was very happily married to my father.”
Her fingers loosened on the scrolled metal. “You grew up without a mother? What was that like?” She met his gaze with more curiosity now, less venom.
“It was lonely, sad.”
“But you said you had twin brothers. So you weren’t lonely.”
“One lived for a few hours. The other died the following day. It was a difficult pregnancy, and they were born way too early. My pop and I only had each other. He traveled a lot, for the store. I used to wonder why he never seemed to want to stay home for long. Now I realize he was trying to outrun the grief he felt over a loss he never seemed to get over.”
Beau ran a finger along the rim of his cup, looking up ruefully. “He’s older, my pop. And he’s still traveling. I worry for him, for his health. He’s all I have. I want to hang on to him as long as I can. I’m trying to convince him that I can handle the buying for the store so he can stay put, rest. Maybe if he’s home long enough, he can finally find some peace and closure.”
Beau laughed at himself as he stared down into his coffee cup. Spew much? A therapist could buy a summer home on his “daddy issues.”
“We were on our way to the airport,” she offered without preamble. “My brother had just graduated college, and we were going to spend the summer traveling in Europe. It was so early, barely dawn. Hardly any cars on the road at that hour. Except a semi, coming toward us from the other lane. The driver fell asleep at the wheel. My dad tried to swerve around it, but the trailer of the semi jackknifed, took up the whole road. There was no way to avoid it.”
Eva stared out at the overgrown rose garden, but Beau could see her thoughts turned inward, painful and frightening. He wasn’t even sure she knew he’d taken her hand in his. Her trembling fingers were icy to the touch.
“My parents were killed instantly. I suppose I should be grateful about that. Colby died on the operating table. Kate, little Kate, struggled for a few more days. Then she left me, too. And I was all alone.”
“Did you have any relatives to help you? Any friends?”
“I had a fiancé. Darren. He was there for me when I woke up. He was there right up until the doctors said I’d never walk again. And then he left. Everyone leaves.”
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Then she finally realized he was holding her hand, and she yanked it away. “Yes, well, it gets easier. I was meant to be alone, it would seem. Now that you’ve learned all my nasty little secrets, will you take me inside? I don’t appreciate being held hostage against my will.”
Leaving the coffee service behind to clean up later, Beau swept an arm under Eva’s knees and waited for her to grab his neck for balance before lifting her from her chair. The sliding glass door that led out to the flagstone patio was still open. He frowned down at the track. There had to be a way to cover it, even temporarily, so that Eva could have access to her little entertaining area out here. It had the best view of her rose garden this close to the house.
“My chair was back there. Where are you taking me? Beau!”
Her tiny fists thumped at his chest as he carried her through the living room and out into the hall. With a purposeful stride, he entered the library. Intending to set her down in one of the wingback chairs in the center of the room, Beau changed his mind at the last second and dropped into the seat himself, Eva draped across his lap.
“I demand that you take me back to my chair this instant!” She struggled in his arms, as much as her upper body would allow.
Beau winced when he took a sharp elbow to the gut. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. Look where you are. Take a deep breath. Smell that? Leather and old paper, ink.”
“This is ridiculous. Why did you bring me in here?”
“You need a sanctuary. You need a place where it’s safe to be yourself, to let it all out and grieve for those you have lost. You can’t get to your roses, and I feel terrible about that. But you can get to your books.”
“Don’t tell me what I need! I need to be left alone. I need you to go back to Syracuse and leave me with my grandfather’s books and my mother’s ruined rose bushes. Stop making me—”
“What? Feel? You cover up the hurt by pushing people away. You replace the grief with anger. You spend so much time feeling sorry for yourself when you could be reliving the happy memories.”
“I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I see their faces in my head, and it hurts.” She was clutching his shirt now.
“Then just breathe. Close your eyes and breathe. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
“I can’t remember the sound of their voices. Every day it’s like a little more of them
fades. But I’m still here. I’m always here.”
She cried then. Great, heaving sobs that broke his heart and made his entire body ache to hear. He held her tight, not uttering a word as she finally released tears five years in the making. He rubbed her back, comforting her as he would a small child. He cradled her as the shudders became less pronounced, the sobs turning to sniffles and finally to rhythmic breathing that indicated she’d fallen asleep. Standing up once more, he brought her to her room and tucked her in for the night.
Chapter Five
“I need your help.” Eva appeared in the doorway of the library the following evening.
Beau closed the book he’d been reading and gave her his attention. This was the first time she’d spoken to him since she’d broken down in his arms last night. She chewed on her lower lip, fingers tangling in her lap. He waited for her to continue.
“I’ve been doing it myself, but there is only so much I can do on my own,” she rambled.
Good Lord, she didn’t mean—
His shock must have registered on his face because her bashful countenance turned into a disgusted scowl. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I need a bath! I can’t do it on my own. I need help with, well, everything.” Her shoulders slumped, and she averted her eyes.
They had never discussed this part of his duties as caregiver. And this was exactly why. It was damned awkward. Beau swiped a palm across his eyes. The poor woman had been giving herself sponge baths for an entire week. And Eva did not strike him as the type that was used to giving up luxuries like nightly bubble baths.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll go run the water. Do you prefer it on the hotter side, or cooler?”
“It’s a bath, not a dip in the pool. I like my bathwater hot. And don’t forget the bubbles. The frangipani ones,” she added.
What the hell was frangipani? A fruit? A candy? He’d figure it out when he got in there. Beau slipped past Eva and hurried toward the bathroom. Turning the taps, he adjusted the water and waited for it to fill the tub. Towels, they needed towels.