Miracle of Love

by Victoria Chancellor

  "Who's we?" Brian asked suspiciously.

  "You need to be there too."

  "Oh, no I don't. I don't think your mother wants me to see her when she goes ballistic."

  "Sure she does. Someone has to be there to commiserate with her. After all, Erina and I will be on one side. You need to hold her hand and agree that she's raised an idiot for a son."

  Grant imagined that Brian was shaking his head. "How much are you going to tell her?"

  "We're going with the story. Nothing more."

  "She's not going to believe it. She'll check back on the calendar. She'll get your travel records. Hell, she'll probably have her own background check done on Erina."

  "And what do you think she'll find? When you did your initial check, you found nothing, right? Not here or in Ireland."

  "That's right, which is just going to tell your mother that Erina is an impostor."

  "She'll come around when she sees Colin."

  "You're bringing that baby to dinner?" Brian almost shouted.

  "No, of course not. He'll probably still be in the hospital on Monday, although he should get to come home Tuesday. He ran a degree of fever, so I'm going to make sure he's well before they release him."

  "You've gotten real attached to the boy, haven't you?"

  "Yeah. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was mine, Brian. I mean, he looks like me, and there's this kind of bond I felt the first time I held him."

  "That's because he's a little kid and needed help. Don't read more into this than there is."

  "I'm trying to retain some objectivity," Grant said, exasperated at himself for the softness and domesticity he was experiencing for the first time. It was Erina's fault too; she inspired that kind of thinking. Of warm, cuddly nights sleeping together, making love while the waves crashed to shore. Of eating meals together, snuggling on the couch while they watched television, laughing as they walked along the beach. All those American ideals, those middle class values that he'd missed so far in his life. He wanted a family--but only if that was Erina and Colin.

  "Okay. I'll call your mother and make plans for dinner on Monday."

  "Thanks, Brian. I'll call if anything comes up."

  "Think you could squeeze in some contract signing while you're in town attending to your other business?"

  "Of course. After we get finished with our appointment at Sam's office, we can stop by the office. That reminds me: Erina agreed to be fingerprinted for a more intensive background check."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. It surprised me a little too, how fast she agreed. But Brian, she'll do anything to protect her baby."

  "Sounds like she's thought of everything."

  "Or maybe she's just a devoted mother."

  "Um hmm," Brian said. "Do you want me to call the PI we use for securities checks?"

  "Yes. If possible, he could be at the office when we come by. He could fingerprint Erina and get the information he needs."

  "I'll call him. What do you want me to tell him?"

  "Just to put a rush on the check. You can say that we're thinking of hiring her for a critical position."

  "Okay, but I doubt if he'll find anything."

  "You may be right." Grant wanted some proof, anything that would tell him who Erina really was, where she was born, where she'd lived. "We'll see you at Sam's office then. After we get finished at my office, we can ride to Mother's together, if you want."

  "No way. I'm taking my own car in case she throws me out for aiding and abetting the enemy."

  "Hey, I'm not the enemy. I'm her only son, remember?"

  "Yeah, I remember. I just hope she does when you present your very young Irish love to her."

  "She's not my love. I'm just doing the right thing by Colin." Grant ignored the leap in his pulse. He did not love Erina; he did, however, want her. And she was so vulnerable, so lovable . . . But he didn't love her.

  Really? A little voice inside his head questioned his judgment.

  "Whatever you say. I'll see you on Monday."

  "Thank, Brian."

  Grant hung up the phone. He couldn't ignore the dichotomy of his logic; he wanted Erina, he was willing to marry and live with her, but he didn't love her.

  Of course he didn't. He had to trust her to love her, and she still hadn't told him why she'd made up her story. Until she told him the truth about where she was from and how she'd gotten into his condo, he couldn't give his heart to her.

  Someday, she'd tell him the whole story. She'd admit how and why she picked him to save the life of her child. And then he'd decide if he could fall in love.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Colin looked so much better on Friday morning. Erina and Grant arrived at the hospital just before ten o'clock, due mainly to the fact she overslept that morning. She wanted nothing more than to sit with her baby, rock him, sing to him, and enjoy his healthy pink color. After Grant watched her with an intense, possessive look on his face, she told him to go back to his work or his condo if he wanted to; she'd stay at the hospital during the day and play with Colin.

  She didn't want to think about how Grant had made her feel last night on the balcony.

  Grant smiled and said he'd be back to take her to lunch around twelve thirty. She welcomed the respite, but wondered again at his mood. He was very serious about sacrificing his bachelor status for her--or for Colin, actually. But he also wanted her, and she didn't have enough knowledge of men to understand why he wanted her so much and why he was willing to marry. Was it really to save Colin or did he want her in his bed that badly?

  "There's no explainin' some things," she said to Colin as she nursed him in the chair beside the bed. Her baby looked up at her with his clear, dark blue eyes as though he listened to her every word. Perhaps he did. She knew next to nothing about infants; she'd been frightened to death when she learned she was pregnant. Mrs. Abernathy had been a wealth of knowledge, a rock of stability during those trying months. And after Colin was born, early and with his heart problem, Mrs. Abernathy had helped her get to the doctor when all Erina had wanted to do was lie abed and cry.

  Colin's eyes drifted shut and he quit nursing. Erina adjusted the nursing bra and rose from the chair. Gently, she lay Colin down for a nap. With little sleep last night, she could use a nap too. She didn't want to leave Colin, so with a grimace, she curled up into the chair, tucked her fist underneath her chin, and closed her eyes.

  #

  "Erina, wake up."

  She heard the words, but it took a minute to register where she was and who was speaking. When she opened her eyes, she saw Grant, smiling and holding a . . . rocking chair?

  "What's this?" she asked sleepily. He placed the chair, which was adorned with a big blue bow, near the bed.

  "It's for you. I noticed the other day how you liked to rock Colin back and forth. I did a little shopping while you were napping."

  "What time is it?"

  "About twelve thirty."

  "Oh." She rubbed her eyes and sat up straight. "That's a lovely chair," she said, reaching out to touch the smooth, dark wood.

  "The salesperson said it was comfortable."

  "You carried it all the way up here for me?"

  "Of course. Well, for you and Colin actually."

  "Thank you." He was doing it again: performing such good deeds that she could swear that he was an angel sent to protect her son and provide for her.

  But angels didn't kiss like Grant Kirby. She felt her cheeks grow warm at the memory.

  "Come and try out the rocking chair," he said, breaking into her thoughts.

  She stretched and rose from the hospital chair, noticing for the first time that her neck was stiff and her hand was asleep. When she slid into the big rocker, she felt right at home. There was plenty of room to hold Colin, even when he grew too old to rock, and she could rest her elbows on the arms of the chair. She pushed with her foot and set the chair in motion.

  "I like it very much," she said, smiling, looking up
at Grant.

  He bent down and kissed her lips. The touch was brief, the kiss fleeting, but it warmed her as much as his thoughtful gift.

  "Let's have some lunch while Colin is sleeping. I've hired a private nurse to look in on him. That way he won't be alone when you're gone."

  "Really? I didn't know you could hire private nurses to work in the hospitals."

  "I didn't either, but then I asked what would happen if you couldn't be here during the time when Colin was awake, and the nurse told me that they had to divide their time among several children. She suggested a private nurse since Colin is in a private room."

  "That's very thoughtful, but why wouldn't I be here?"

  "In case we went to lunch," he said, steering her toward the door, "or if we have to go to Houston or to meet with Mrs. Henshaw."

  "Oh, that." She didn't want to spoil the day thinking about how the social worker thought she was an uncaring mother. And she didn't want to think about what she might have to do if someone decided to investigate her lack of documentation.

  They stopped by the nurses' station and Erina met the private nurse, Mrs. Bea Parker, a very competent looking woman who reminded her of Mrs. Abernathy. She wore a white uniform with a gray apron and looked very much like a grandmother.

  "I'm sure you'll be fine with Colin," Erina said warmly.

  "I'm looking forward to meeting the boy," Mrs. Parker said.

  "He's sleeping now, but he should waken soon. There are bottles for him in the refrigerator. The nurses know which ones."

  "We'll do fine. Have a nice lunch."

  Erina smiled as they walked down the corridor toward the elevators. She was proud of her grasp of these new terms, at how she could use them with ease when she didn't even know them a week ago. Yes, she was fitting in very nicely in this century.

  "I've set up an appointment for you and me to meet with Sam Reynolds in Houston on Monday," Grant said.

  "Are you so sure then that we'll need his help?"

  "I'm pretty sure. I also called Mrs. Henshaw this morning. She can't wait to meet with us and find out the 'truth.'"

  "She wouldn't recognize the truth," Erina said mostly to herself.

  "I'm not sure I'd recognize the truth at the moment. That's why she's going to get our version--the one version we can agree on."

  "Grant, I don't think that's wise." They stopped at the elevators and waited for the doors to open.

  "You know, I really like the way you've begun to use my name," he said with a grin. "How about seafood for lunch? There's a great place where you can sit out over the water and watch the waves. Sometimes even a few surfers."

  "Grant, we should talk about this story."

  "We will. Before Monday, I promise. After all, you'll need to get all the facts straight before you meet my mother for dinner on Monday."

  "Your mother!"

  #

  That afternoon, the nurse took Colin for a round of tests to see how he was recovering from his surgery. He had no more fever and that was a good sign. Grant finally convinced Erina to come back to the condo with him for a short time while Colin was out of the room.

  Being a father was kind of fun, Grant thought as he unlocked the door to the condo. He had a reason to get out of bed each morning besides just showing up at the office. He looked forward to Colin's smiles more than those of his office or property management staff. And Erina--well, he wanted to make her happy too.

  "Now close your eyes. I have a surprise for you."

  "What are you doin'?"

  He stood behind her and placed his palms over her eyes. "Just walk forward." She took a few tentative steps. "That's it. A few more. Now turn left."

  She followed his instructions until they stood at the doorway of the guest bedroom.

  "Okay. Now you can look." He removed his hands and moved to stand beside her. "What do you think?"

  "Oh, Grant, it's beautiful," she said, awe in her voice. She walked into the room and ran her hand along the carved posts of the crib, then traced the length of the rails. "When did you do this?"

  "This morning. I decided Colin needed his own baby furniture."

  "But there's so much!"

  He probably had gone a bit overboard. But hell, what did he know about babies and their needs? He did know he needed a baby car seat for Colin, which he'd kept in the Jeep so they could bring him home from the hospital safely. The salesperson, a young matron who looked as though she'd raised a few of her own, assured him that this furniture was the best. It would last for years, she'd said with a smile, and through several children.

  More children with Erina. The thought filled him with longing. If they did need to marry, would she want it to last? Would he? He was beginning to think they could have a good life together--if only she'd tell him the truth. He certainly wanted her and she wanted him. Her response last night had been endearingly honest. She reacted innocently, even though she'd had a child.

  He would teach her about making love, he thought with a fierceness that was foreign to him. The idea of making her his, legally and physically, filled him with a primitive urge. He'd never understood the possessive actions of some men before, but now he did. The attraction he felt for Erina was as elemental as breathing. How had he lived so long without experiencing this emotion?

  "You shouldn't have," she said, turning to him with a smile. She seemed completely unaware of his inner turmoil. But the fierce longing must have shown on his face, because she stopped smiling, her eyes widened, and she took a deep breath. Awareness sparked between them.

  He took a step into the room. Her bed was there, just waiting for them. He didn't have any protection in the condo, but that wouldn't matter between them. In this room crowded with baby furniture and a chaste double bed, he'd make love to Erina until she cried out her need for him. And she'd have his child--their child.

  "Erina," he whispered, wanting her desperately. His body was primed and ready.

  "Grant, no," she said, taking a step backward, coming up against the changing station. The sturdy piece tottered against the wall.

  But he could make her respond, he thought. He could . . . What was he thinking? He was responding to her like a cave man! This wasn't like him at all. He took a deep, cleansing breath, then wiped his hand across his heated face. "I'm sorry, Erina. I don't know what came over me."

  "I'm thinkin' maybe I shouldn't be in your home any more," she said softly.

  "No! I'm not going to harm you. I just . . . damn, I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I admit I want you--very badly in fact. But I'm not going to force myself on you."

  "But you will try to seduce me."

  "I know I shouldn't. I tell myself to leave you alone, but you've got to understand that I know how you responded to me last night. That makes me want you so much more."

  "That was a mistake. I couldn't sleep and I was thinkin' of other things, and--"

  "The reasons don't matter. What happened was real. I wouldn't be much of a man if I didn't want to feel that way again. But I'm not going to put you in that sort of situation."

  He closed the gap between them, noticing that she watched him but didn't try to run away. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Erina, I'll always stop if you say 'no.'"

  When she looked up at him, confusion and trust warring in her dark blue eyes, he almost took back his words. Almost. Finally, trust won out and he pushed his physical instincts aside--for the moment.

  After they married, she'd come to him willingly. She'd be free to make love to him then, by her own words last night. She did want him, but she wanted to follow her religious beliefs more.

  Just the kind of woman who would make an excellent mother, a wonderful wife. What more could he ask for?

  The truth, a voice taunted him. She may have convictions, but she did show up in your condo with a whopper of a story. As soon as Colin was well, Grant vowed, he'd get some professional help for Erina. She'd be able to tell him where she was really from, what had happened in her past.


  He pushed his doubts aside for the moment. They needed to get back to the hospital, and besides, nothing could be accomplished by discussing her fictional background. He hoped that some day soon, though, they'd be able to establish a deeper relationship--one based on trust.

  "Now Colin will have a room to come home to," he said with a false cheerfulness. "Maybe we'll find out this afternoon what day he can come home."

  "Are you sure you want us here? You've gotten very involved in our problems. Each day we cost you more money. Are you absolutely certain that you want us in your home?"

  "Erina, I'm certain. I want you--both of you."

  #

  She dreamed that night, the past and the present meshing together until she wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep, or if she'd returned to her own time.

  She was in her room above Mrs. Abernathy's shop, but she sat in the rocking chair Grant had bought. Colin rested in the new crib, happy and healthy. Below, she heard Mrs. Abernathy singing in the kitchen. The smell of corned beef and cabbage drifted up the staircase and through her open door.

  Looking down in her lap, she noticed the quilt she'd been working on for several months. She was adding more embroidery, strands of the silk floss stretched across her hand. And the quilt was even more finished than the last time she'd dreamed of it.

  Why did she dream of the quilt? It was only a work of "borrowed" scraps from various dresses that she'd sewn. Miss Bettie Brown's gold ball gown, a green silk brocade day dress for Mrs. Menard, a silvery-gray velvet coat for the Kempner's daughter. A bit of lace left over from the milliner's shop around the corner.

  But whenever she dreamed of the past, the unfinished quilt was always there.

  She set the rocker in motion, a feeling of sadness washing over her just as the sun broke through the salt-glazed windows and landed on her lap. What was wrong? She couldn't quite put her finger on the problem, but whatever it was, she felt a deep sense of loss. It wasn't Colin; he was fine and healthy.

  The feeling intensified until she got up from the rocker and, holding the quilt to her chest, walked to the window. She looked outside. Suddenly, a cloud passed over the sun. Daylight turned to dark; Post Office Street turned into the beach below Grant's window. The waves pounded against the brick of her building as she looked down, way down, twelve floors. But she only lived on the second floor!