Kathy pulled up on her door handle and was bouncing out of the car before Maggie had even finished speaking. Andy crawled more leisurely out of his side of the vehicle.
Beside Maggie, Ian released a nearly inaudible sigh. He hesitated briefly before opening his door, too.
Sidelong, Maggie watched him, saw the time it took for him to move his usually limber body out of the car. Once out, he straightened slowly. A muscle jumped in his jaw.
Maggie's gaze shifted quickly forward again. Ian would never admit he wasn't one hundred percent. She knew that. She knew him. But she'd read the nurse's instructions. Ian's activities were severely restricted, at least for this first week.
Her brain veered from what such restrictions implied. Ian was going to be fine. He was going to recover completely and return to the overly-powerful, much-too arrogant man she'd never liked. A sort of younger, more fashion-conscious, version of her father.
But in the meantime, he was going to need help. He needed someone to do housework, to deal with the kids, and to drive. Knowing Ian, he needed someone around just to make sure he didn't try to do any of those things himself.
Yes, someone. For at least a week, he and the kids definitely needed someone.
As she sat there, Maggie felt unhappy nerves stir in her stomach. Not her. Oh, no. She'd already done enough for this man. She had a life to live, her business to run—cats to feed. She couldn't hang around Ian for a week.
Meanwhile, Kathy was already at the front door of the house, rattling the handle and looking for someone to unlock it. Andy was waiting beside the car, watching Ian march stoically around the nose of it.
Maggie drew in a breath and thought quickly. Didn't the kids have a regular babysitter? Yes, Mrs. Granby. Perfect. She could be the 'someone.'
Maggie opened her car door.
"Thank you," said Ian.
Maggie's head snapped around. "Excuse me?"
Slowly, stiffly, he was coming toward her. Half of his mouth lifted in a pained attempt at a smile. "For the ride home. Taking care of the kids. Everything. Thanks."
Maggie stared at him. Oh, why did he have to keep being...surprising? "Uh. You're welcome. I'll...go open the door."
She immediately wondered why she'd said that. She didn't need to open the door for him. She could hand him the keys, say goodbye, let Mrs. Granby take it from there.
Ian's gaze dropped to Maggie's hands. "Are those my keys?"
"Oh. Why...yes. They are." Maggie felt her face redden. The truth was she'd had to go through Ian's trousers, the pair he'd been stripped of at the hospital, in order to find the set. Knowing she had no reason to feel embarrassed about that, Maggie lifted her gaze to Ian's. "Obviously, I needed them."
"Obviously." If Maggie weren't hallucinating, Ian was blushing, too. But he held out one hand. "You can give them back now, though."
Maggie kept her gaze on his eyes, which were doing that old commanding-demanding thing.
Just give them back, a part of her brain advised. Ian was an adult—and not her problem.
But her hands tightened around the hard metal keys. "It's not as if you're going to be driving."
His lips thinned. "I know."
Maggie's lips parted. "You know?"
His voice went quiet. "I get it, Maggie. I understand my restrictions. Believe me, I know." One corner of his mouth kicked up as he held out his hand again. "The keys?"
Maggie just stood there. He understood? He wasn't going to go all stupid and macho?
"Thanks." Ian used Maggie's consternation to pluck the keys from her hands. "And yes, I do think I can handle unlocking my front door."
For a minute Maggie could only stand there and watch Ian march, ever so stiffly, over the stepping stones and toward his front door.
Was this for real? Did he actually intend to follow instructions? Ian? Frowning, she strode down the stone path after him.
The door was open and Kathy was walking through by the time Maggie caught up with them.
"We cleaned up last night." Kathy gestured around the living room. "Aunt Maggie said she'd look like a wimp if the place was a complete shambles."
"Mm." Ian bent to pick up an empty pizza box.
Maggie swiped it out of his hands before he had a chance to discover the box wasn't quite empty. "We didn't catch everything."
"Mm," Ian said again.
Maggie felt her face warm. So, she was a wimp. It had never been easy for her to discipline her nephew or niece. Usually, she hadn't needed to. Discipline had been somebody else's job.
And, on the subject of 'somebody else'..."Uh, Ian, about those keys..." This would be a good time to settle on Mrs. Granby as the 'someone.'
"What? I told you I'm not going to drive," he said, looking around the room.
"Yes, but—" Maggie stopped, caught by the way he was looking around. He was clearly taking it in, that he was back. Still alive.
She felt a strange emotion swirl inside her but shook it away. Fine, he had some conception of what had happened to him. That wasn't her concern. Her task was to square away who was going to help out for the next week. She wanted to hand over the baton.
But Kathy spoke first. She was frowning at her father, her index finger between her teeth. "You're not going to work today, Daddy, are you?"
Maggie held her breath, but Ian merely bent over the coffee table and picked up a TV guide. He regarded it a moment, then tossed it back onto the table. "No, I'm not going into work today, sugar."
Maggie released her drawn breath.
From the open front doorway, Andy spoke. "You're not?"
Andy's voice expressed incredulity mixed with fear, but Ian only turned with a casual shrug. "At the moment I feel like I could sleep a week. At the very least, I'm ready for a long, long nap."
Andy frowned as he stepped through the front doorway. "So you're real tired?"
"Exhausted. That hospital was busier and noisier than a train station. It was impossible to catch a decent night's sleep."
Kathy asked, "You're going to be home all day?"
"All day, pumpkin."
The girl tilted her head. "But you can go back to work, right? Eventually?"
Ian hesitated. Oh, it was only the tiniest split of a second, but Maggie caught it. A definite hesitation. "Sure, hon. I'll be able to go back to work." His smile crooked. "My work consists mostly of sitting at a desk and talking on the telephone. Not terribly taxing, physically. No reason in the world it should be a problem."
Except that he'd hesitated, Maggie thought and wondered about that.
Andy appeared to wonder, too. His frown deepened as he stepped further into the room.
Ian spread his arms. "But I'm not thinking about work right now. I'm just glad to be home."
Kathy laughed. "And we're glad you're here." She moved to give her father an embrace. The girl was easy with embraces, Maggie thought, the way her mother had been.
"If you take a nap," Kathy said, speaking into her father's jogging jacket, "does that mean we have to go back to school today?"
Ian laughed. "No. We'll all take a vacation. For today. How about that?"
"Fine with me." Kathy skipped backward. "It's almost eleven. There's a rerun of my favorite show—"
"You want to watch TV?" Ian gasped, mock insulted. Then he laughed. "Go ahead. Enjoy it while you can."
"Thanks, Dad." Kathy turned around. The next minute she was running up the stairs.
Those left in the room, Ian, Andy, and Maggie, remained silent. It was almost as if they were waiting for carefree Kathy to get out of earshot.
"How long?" Andy asked.
"Excuse me?" Ian said.
Andy widened his stance. "How long do you have to stay at home?"
Ian looked, briefly, nonplussed. "I'm not sure." He lifted his hands. "All I'd planned today was to get out of that damn hospital."
Andy looked decidedly dissatisfied with this answer. Maggie thought it was a perfect segue, however, into her own desired subject
matter.
"On the other hand," she interjected, "there are some details that ought to be nailed down."
Ian turned from his regard of his son to land his dark eyes on Maggie.
She grimaced, realizing her words had probably come out bossier than she'd intended. "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean— It's just— Well, how are you planning to get around this week, Ian? Have you thought about that?"
His blank look told Maggie he hadn't thought about it. Which kind of amazed her. Ian always planned everything.
Meanwhile, Andy's brows curled tighter. "That's another thing I don't understand," he muttered. "How is driving a hard physical activity?"
Ian's gaze flicked briefly to Andy, then returned to Maggie, as if he found her easier to focus on. "How will I get around," he repeated.
"Yes. You're going to need someone to go shopping, clean, get the kids to school..."
"But why can't he drive?" Andy asked again, a little louder.
Maggie and Ian kept their gazes on each other. "I can get someone," Ian told Maggie. He snapped his fingers. "Mrs. Granby."
Maggie felt a spurt of relief. This was exactly what she'd wanted Ian to conclude.
Then Andy spoke again, too loudly to ignore. "But why can't he drive?" His eyes narrowed. "I'm not stupid. It's because they aren't sure he isn't going to have another one, right? That they didn't really fix it. They're afraid he might lose it right there on the road."
A deep silence followed this pronouncement. Andy looked unhappily smug. Ian looked utterly blank. And Maggie felt like she was made out of stone.
She had to hand it to Ian. He recovered first, turning slowly to his son. "It's just a precaution."
"Because they aren't sure," Andy insisted. He was beginning to sound belligerent, a veneer for the fear Maggie suspected was lurking underneath.
She tried her best to address that fear. "They wouldn't have let your father out of the hospital if they didn't think he was going to be okay."
Andy jerked his head to one side, rejecting. "Things could go to pieces in one second."
"They could." Ian spoke slowly, as if carefully considering his words. "But they most probably won't."
"But they could!" Andy's voice rose. "And what are you going to do about it? What kind of a plan do you have for that?"
Ian stared at his son, apparently at a loss. Maggie, too, wondered what Andy was getting at. Did he want to know if his father had a will? If someone had been named guardian?
Andy made himself clear. "Someone should be with you," he told his father. "All the time."
Ian opened his mouth, but Andy didn't give him a chance to reply. "You could have another one. It's— You're a known quantity," he told his father, accusing. "Someone should be with you, to give first aid, call 911." Andy paused. "As a precaution."
Ian closed his mouth. His gaze shifted. Leave it to a child, Maggie thought, to force a person to confront the unpleasant realities of life. She felt an unhappy shifting inside her own psyche, imagining Ian collapsing again.
"Mrs. Granby," she said aloud, though the elderly woman was seeming less and less effective. "She could stick around, be the someone, Andy. Help you feel more secure."
"Yes." But Ian's brows flinched downward. "As Maggie said, I'll need someone around anyway, to do the driving, the grocery shopping, and so forth."
"Mrs. Granby is a terrible driver," Andy said. "And she doesn't work nights, remember?"
"Ah." Ian's expression showed he had not, indeed, remembered. "Then Sandy Black—"
"She moved to New Mexico." Andy shook his head. "Don't you remember that, either? Last week was the last one she could stay with us while you were out of town, and she couldn't even stay Thursday night."
"Oh, yes." Ian's gaze shifted, and he frowned. Maggie could practically see him drifting, like a swimmer who'd been confident of reaching the buoy but found it floating further away from him. She knew how important it was to Ian to present an aura of competence, to be in charge. And here he was, forced into playing a far different role.
She'd never liked him in the competent, I'm-in-charge mode, so it was mysterious the burst of empathy she felt as she watched the role slip away from him.
"I'll stay."
Two pair of male eyes turned to stare at her. Maggie realized the words must have come out of her mouth. She was the one who'd just offered to stay...to be the 'someone.'
"No," Ian said.
"Yes," Andy breathed.
Oh, God, Maggie thought.
Father and son returned their regard to each other.
"Aunt Maggie is perfect," Andy pronounced.
"Your Aunt Maggie has been put out enough," Ian disagreed. "I can call...an agency."
"An agency?" Maggie thought about that. Ian could call an agency. The rates were something he could afford even if his health insurance didn't pick up the tab.
"It makes sense." Ian looked over at her.
It did...and yet Maggie couldn't quite feel satisfied with the scheme. "Do you think an agency could send somebody out here in..." She made a show of looking at her watch. "The next five minutes?"
Ian's lips pressed together.
Andy chortled.
Maggie thought of her nursery, where she was paying Pearl, her once-in-a-while worker, to run things while she was gone. Dollars going out Maggie could ill afford to spend. But she could do it for one more day.
Ian kept his gaze on Maggie. "Okay," he said. "I give in. For today, since you're offering, please stay."
"All right!" Andy said, emphatic, if sotto voce.
Maggie met Ian's gaze and nodded. He was right. For today it made sense, but tomorrow...? She had a business to run. A real nurse from a competent agency was the logical choice as the 'someone.'
Tomorrow she would pass the baton.
But today—? She felt a small, deeply buried part of herself relax. For today she was still involved.
Maggie blinked at her own, wayward thought. She wanted to be involved? No, no. She wanted to pass the baton...tomorrow.
CHAPTER FIVE
Maggie—Sophia's bossy older sister, Maggie—was babysitting him. On his first night home, Ian lay staring at the pine boards of the ceiling above his bed, unsleeping despite his exhaustion. He wondered if his life could get any lower than this.
A woman who didn't even like him, who'd never liked him, was actually sleeping under his roof out of worry for him.
Now that was pathetic.
Ian sighed. True, Maggie had been uncharacteristically nice to him over the past few days...but only because it would have been impossible for her to behave otherwise. The truth was that the only reason she'd agreed to share his roof tonight was because she believed, like Andy did, that Ian was a known quantity. He could pop off at any moment.
Ian scowled at the pine boards of the ceiling. Please. They'd fixed him at the hospital. He was okay now.
All right, he'd gotten into the habit of holding his breath every few minutes to check. Was that pressure he felt building around his chest? A twinge? But he knew this was only... It was just...silliness. Of course it was. He didn't need a babysitter. Worse yet, a nurse. God. He'd had enough of those over the past three days at the hospital.
He'd had enough of doctors, too, for that matter. Now in the still of night, with no distractions, Ian's last conversation with the cardiologist came back to him, the part he'd been trying to forget.
It hadn't been enough for Dr. Bloch to outline Ian's many physical limitations. He'd had to throw a black shadow on the future, as well. "We'll want to keep a watch," he'd advised. "Pay close tabs, considering the possible genetic factor." In Ian's hospital room, the doctor had looked over his half-frame glasses at him. "Don't suppose you've had any sudden revelations on that score?"
Ian's jaw had tensed. "It was a closed adoption," he reminded the doctor. "I doubt even my parents, if either of them were still alive, would have known the medical histories of my birth parents."
"Hm." The doctor se
emed vaguely disapproving, as if Ian had any control over these facts. As if he should have, at some earlier point in his life, taken an interest in his damn birth parents.
Then the doctor had brought forth a smile again as he'd hung the clipboard over the hook at the foot of the bed. "You're doing great. Plan on going home tomorrow."
Now Ian scowled at the ceiling. Even with the doctor's admonition, he had zero interest in his birth parents. Had they ever given a damn about him? They'd given him up at infancy, hadn't even tried to keep him. He stared at the ceiling for about five more seconds, then threw the sheet to the side and groaned to a sitting position.
God, he was stiff. But he forced himself to get up and then paced across the room, determined to work the kinks out of his joints. That was his real problem, see, that he'd lain around all weekend doing nothing. It had made him stiff, both physically and mentally. He was stagnating. Yes, stagnating and—and brooding.
What he needed was something to do.
For this reason he'd put a call in to his boss Howard yesterday evening, instead of to a damn nursing agency. There was absolutely no reason Ian should be sitting around here, morbid, when there were those problems with the Raleigh site he still needed to straighten out. Bad enough he hadn't had a chance to deal with it all on Friday.
True, he'd need a ride to work, but he could easily call a cab for that. And yes, he'd need a way to get the kids to school, too, but—he could send them in cabs as well! He had time to figure out something more practical for the rest of the week.
Once Ian had got everything thus back to normal, Andy would stop fussing over this ridiculous idea Ian needed a caretaker. Aunt Maggie could go home.
Ian rolled his shoulders. He could feel himself relaxing already, the brooding thoughts slipping away. This was what he needed. Work.
Be damned with a nurse.
~~~
"Are you driving us to school this morning, Aunt Maggie?" Kathy sat at the kitchen table in Ian's house and poured some cereal into a bowl. "We don't have too long before we have to leave."
"Uh..." Maggie stood at the kitchen counter with a cup of hot water—naturally Ian hadn't a single bag of tea in the house. "I'm not sure." She felt precariously perched between doing the right thing and overstepping the bounds. Ian had not yet appeared and given any information about the caretaker he'd promised to hire, the one who could drive. The one to whom Maggie would pass the baton.
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