Miracle of Love

by Victoria Chancellor

  She opened the window and leaned out. Dizziness assailed her. She tried to draw back inside, but felt drawn even farther over the railing. Railing? There was no balcony in her apartment. But the wind called to her, the waves urged her on, and then she was falling, falling, all the way to the sandy shore.

  She awoke with a gasp, her heart pounding, her body covered in sweat. The sense of tumbling through space was so fresh in her mind that she had to hold on to the mattress to stop the spinning sensation. Finally, her heartbeat slowed and her breathing returned to normal.

  Moonlight filtered through the drapes at the window, illuminating the guest bedroom at Grant's condo. The new furniture lined the walls, the crib at the foot of the bed in which she slept.

  She hadn't gone back in time, but the dream had been so real. Why was she mixing the past and present, and why now? She'd never placed much importance on dreams, although she'd known others who experienced everything from night terrors to silly fantasies they swore would come true.

  Somehow, these dreams of the past seemed different. Maybe that was how she would return--just go to sleep one night and wake up in the past. But would she know she'd returned, or would she think it was only a dream?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "Are you sure I look okay?" Erina said, fidgeting in the seat of the Cherokee as they drove out of Galveston on Broadway.

  Grant was certain she'd asked the question twice before. Ever since buying a new outfit specifically for the trip to Houston, she'd fretted over how she would appear to the attorney and to Grant's mother.

  "You look great," he said. The blue, tiny-flowered dress she'd chosen was modest, but clung to her curves in all the right places. Her long black hair was pulled back with a lacy bow, but a few tendrils escapes around her temples and in front of her ears. It wouldn't take Sam Reynolds, Brian Abbott, or his mother any great stretch of their imaginations to believe that he'd fallen for Erina O'Shea at first sight.

  "As a matter of fact, if you looked any better, I don't think I'd want you to leave the condo."

  "What do you mean? Is there something wrong? Am I dressed inappropriately to meet your mother?"

  "No, not at all. And she'd not the one I'm concerned about. It's Sam and Brian who'll probably be a bit too charmed by your appearance." As the words left his mouth, he recognized the possessive and protective attitude he'd developed about Erina. She was charming, beautiful, and projected an innocent sexuality that had turned him into a lusty fool. Would she have the same effect on Sam and Brian?

  If she did, they better have the good sense to keep their thoughts to themselves. Erina was his.

  Damn, he did sound like a cave man. He'd never been that way around a woman before. As a matter of fact, if a woman got possessive with him, it was time to leave the relationship. He'd never wanted to be "tied down" until now.

  Erina seemed to be pondering his words, then said, "Are you sayin' I'm sexy?"

  She sounded so surprised and confused that Grant burst out laughing before he could stop himself. "Darling, you are definitely sexy. Where did you come up with that, though?"

  "From the magazines. They claim that women are supposed to be sexy, but I didn't know . . . that is, I never thought of myself that way."

  "Well, you are, but just for me."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because Sam and Brian are too old for you."

  "I thought you believed you were too old for me too."

  "I am, but I'm not as old as those two."

  "My da was fifteen years older than my mother, yet she died when I was just a babe. I don't think age has much to do with . . . things."

  "Older men are usually attracted to younger women, but you're younger than most."

  "In my time, I'm considered quite mature."

  "Well, in the 1800's, I think the average life span was about 50 years. So if you'd lived back then, you'd be almost middle aged at 20. But you don't live then, you live now. And 20 is very young."

  "Will your mother and the attorneys think poorly of me because I've had a child?"

  "No." They'd better not. Not when he'd claimed the child as his.

  "I'm havin' a hard time believin' you," she said, looking out the window. "What's this?" she asked, her tone indicated she was quite startled. She edged forward on the seat, as much as the seat belt would allow, and looked with wide eyes out the windshield.

  "The bridge over the bay," Grant answered, wondering what kind of story she'd come up with next. "Surely you noticed it when you drove the island the first time. Or did you fly into the local airport?"

  "No, I got off the ship. I haven't been off the island before, but I know that a railroad bridge was built from Houston to transport the cotton to Galveston. But nothing like this!" Her knuckles had a death grip on the dashboard.

  "It's perfectly safe. We're not that high."

  "I think maybe we're higher than your condo."

  "I doubt that. Just sit back and relax. If you're going to get this frightened over a bridge, then you're going to have a heart attack when you see the traffic in Houston."

  "Traffic?"

  "On the interstates and highways that go around and through town. They're notoriously crowded."

  "Oh."

  He could tell she wasn't too concerned about traffic. Maybe she'd been in Houston traffic before. Or maybe she really doesn't know what you mean, a little voice said. He pushed aside the idea that she hadn't crossed a large bridge or driven in traffic. At least her convincing aura would help with their story, both with Sam and his mother.

  "How long does it take to drive to Mr. Reynold's office?"

  "About forty-five minutes. Just sit back and relax. We're driving through the salt marshes now, but soon we'll be on solid ground."

  "This road seems very solid," she said, glancing out the window at the tall grasses and water on either side of the highway.

  "It is. I meant the rest of the ground. Not much is built out here because of the land. Kind of like around my condo. There are salt marshes there too."

  "Yes, I've seen them. I like the beach though."

  "If it gets a little warmer we should start exercising along the beach. We can take Colin for walks."

  "I'd like that." She was quiet for a moment, then said, "But I'm not sure how long Colin and I will be here."

  "Let's not get into this right now, okay? You know I want you to stay. Unless there's somewhere else you need to be, I don't see why you can't stay in Galveston."

  "Oh, I think we'll be stayin' in Galveston," she said softly, "but I'm not sure in what time."

  He ignored that remark. Traffic picked up as they passed the outlet mall. He didn't need to think about Erina's fantasy right now; he needed to concentrate on getting them to Sam's office--and convincing everyone that Erina was Grant's fiancee and Colin was his son.

  #

  Erina sat on the edge of the chair in Sam Reynolds's office, wondering if she would be able to get through this meeting without bursting out with the truth. But as she listened to Grant tell the story so convincingly, she began to believe it herself. He sounded so sincere! If she didn't know he was spinning a yarn, she would have wept from the depth of emotion he evoked.

  She glanced at Brian Abbott, Grants friend and attorney, and wondered what the man was thinking. He displayed little on his face--at least to her. She suspected he was much more open to Grant. He probably thought all this was her idea, a way to get Grant to marry her so she could take his money. As though he felt her eyes on him, Mr. Abbott looked at her. His eyes narrowed even as he smiled slightly. She imagined he was assessing her, trying to decide who and what she was.

  Well, she didn't blame the man. If her friend had suddenly decided to marry an unknown person and declare themselves the parent of a child, she would be suspicious too. She smiled at Mr. Abbott and scooted back into the chair as Grant began to explain how she'd arrived in the United States.

  "On a private plane," Sam Reynolds said.

 
; "That's right. She didn't go through customs because she didn't realize she needed to."

  "Grant, that's a bit hard to believe. Surely the pilot or your friend knew that she needed to enter the US legally."

  "Yes, I think they mentioned it. They would have mentioned it, wouldn't they, Erina?" he asked, turning to her.

  "Yes, I suppose so," she answered carefully.

  "But then Colin became ill suddenly. All Erina could think of was finding me fast and getting Colin to the emergency room."

  "I can understand how that crisis would preclude any formalities, but what about later?" Mr. Reynolds asked, looking between Grant and her.

  She looked to Grant.

  "Since Colin was admitted to the hospital, Erina has been with him constantly, and I've been there quite a bit too. We haven't had time to contact INS."

  "What is INS?" Erina asked.

  "Immigration and Naturalization service."

  "And these are the people I need to see?"

  "Yes," Mr. Reynolds answered, "but when you do see them, I'll be with you. You don't need to contact them now."

  "So you'll represent Erina?" Grant asked.

  "Yes, and you knew darn well I would," Mr. Reynolds said, shaking his head. "I still don't know the whole story, but I'm convinced that with Colin's critical medical condition, we can successfully represent this case to INS. The worst thing that could happen is that Erina will need to go back to Ireland for a short period and re-apply--"

  "No," Grant stated. "She's staying here. If necessary, we'll marry immediately. They won't deport the wife and son of an American citizen."

  "Now Grant, don't jump the gun," Mr. Abbot said in a cautious voice.

  "Don't worry about this, Brian. We'll do what's necessary."

  "That's what I'm afraid of," Erina heard him murmur.

  She'd been right about Mr. Abbott's disapproval of her, but apparently he was also unhappy with Grant. She prayed that she didn't come between the two men. Surely Grant wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their friendship. She had a feeling Mrs. Abbott was like a second father to Grant.

  "As soon as we receive Erina's documents from Ireland, I'll courier them to you," Grant was saying to Mr. Reynolds.

  "You do that. And make sure that everything--I mean everything--is in order." .

  "It will be," Grant assured him.

  Erina had no idea how he could make such an outrageous claim. Everything they gave to the attorney would be a lie. She'd need to attend mass and confession after this one, and she'd have to take Grant with her. She just hoped she would be forgiven for telling such a story.

  Grant got up from his chair beside her, then reached down and helped her to her feet. She felt a bit shaky. All these lies . . . But she didn't have a choice, she told herself. She had to do this to save Colin because no one, including Grant, would believe the truth.

  Brian Abbott walked with them past Mr. Reynolds' secretary and out the door of his law office, which was located in the tallest building Erina had ever seen. She'd been terrified to get into the elevator to come to the twenty-seventh floor, although Grant assured her that the ride was perfectly safe. Now they had to ride back down to the ground. Erina didn't want to think about the chances that the elevator could fall.

  "I think that went pretty well," Grant said as they stood waiting for the doors to open.

  "I think you're full of--"

  "Watch your language in front of a lady," Grant warned quickly.

  Brian Abbott looked at her. "I just hope that these documents you're getting will be authentic enough to get past INS and child welfare."

  "I've been told they will be," Grant said. "I mean, why wouldn't they be?"

  "Yeah, why indeed?" Mr. Abbott said sarcastically.

  "Brian, you need to be with me on this. Either that, or just back out now. You don't have to be involved if you're not comfortable, because I'm going to help Erina and Colin, whether you like it or not."

  "Hell, Grant, you don't know what you might be getting into. What if there's something criminal? Did you think about that?"

  "No, what I'm thinking is that I'm helping Erina and her son, a baby that needed medical attention or he was going to die. There's nothing criminal about that."

  "No, but--"

  The elevator doors opened and Erina walked in first, her cheeks blazing. She wanted to tell Mr. Abbot what she thought, but did she dare? Not if her outburst would hurt Grant. For him, she'd hold her tongue and let him vent his suspicions. As long as Grant didn't listen to him. As long as he didn't desert her . . . and Colin.

  "Brian, I need to know if you're going to support me on this," Grant said, pushing a button that would send them pummeling down to the ground floor. Erina placed her palm against the wall to provide some stability while the elevator descended.

  "I think you're a damn fool," Mr. Abbott growled in a low voice. "There had to be another way to help her and the kid."

  "Just what other way?"

  "Did you try money?"

  "Okay, that's it," Grant said, reaching for his friend, grabbing a handful of shirt and tie.

  "Grant, no!" Erina cried out, tearing herself away from the wall to hold on to Grant's other arm. "You mustn't fight with Mr. Abbott. He's your dear friend. I won't have you fightin' him, do you hear me?"

  Grant looked at her as though she'd suddenly sprouted another head. His eyes blazed and his cheeks were flushed. His eyebrows, darker than his sun-streaked hair, drew together over his eyes. She looked at him, pleaded silently with him. Soon his expression calmed and he let go of Mr. Abbott's shirt.

  She turned to the older man. "Now Mr. Abbott, you can think what you will of me. I'm a poor Irish girl and I know I'm not the kind that you'd have Grant marry, but I'm not deaf and I'm not stupid. I didn't ask for his money or his name. All I ever asked for is help for Colin."

  She turned to Grant. "And you . . . well, you need to remember that I have a mind and a voice. I'd thank you not to speak about me as though I were a child. I'm a woman grown.

  "Now I'm not goin' to be the cause of an argument between the two of you. So settle your differences right now. I'm none too fond of meetin' Grant's mother with both of you bickerin' in the background."

  Grant stared at her a long time. He smiled, then laughed. After reaching over and holding her hand, he turned to Mr. Abbott. "Any more questions? I think Erina is in charge now."

  "Damnation. I'm convinced that you can pull of any story you want," he said with a bit of admiration and a shake of his head. His expression sobered. "But do you think your mother's going to be as easy?"

  "Leave Mother to me," Grant said, "and Erina. You're there for Mother's moral support and a possible shoulder to cry on."

  "Whatever you say, son. I just hope you have a miracle up your sleeve in case she decides to have you investigated," Mr. Abbott murmured as the elevator doors opened.

  A miracle. Erina was afraid one miracle in a lifetime was all she was going to get.

  They stopped by Grant's office so he could sign some important papers. Erina was again impressed; she didn't know much about businesses, but this one looked prosperous. The desks were dark wood, but there were many windows and glass partitions, some etched with designs of flowers and birds. She could tell the people who worked for Grant were curious about her, but they smiled shyly, their gaze darting between her and Grant.

  She sat on the edge of a leather chair in his office. The decor seemed almost too bare. There were no photographs of family like Sam Reynolds had on his desk and shelves. Several works of art hung on the wall, but Erina couldn't understand what they represented. To her, they were just the pretty colors of a sunset in slashes across a pale lavender background.

  But she could watch Grant while he bent over some contracts that Brian Abbott was explaining to him. The men talked so quietly that Erina couldn't understand what they were saying, but she was sure this was the business that Grant's company did and not a personal issue. His face appeared different
when he discussed business. She'd seen the same expression when he talked on the telephone. Did he dislike what he did, or did he need to concentrate fully on the documents?

  She couldn't tell because he seldom talked about his business. One thing she knew was that he wasn't in any hurry to rush back to this office, despite the pleasant people and surroundings. He stayed in his condo in Galveston, took her back and forth to the hospital, and bought baby furniture for Colin when he could have been working.

  With a sigh, she shifted on the chair. Grant made her feel like she'd never imagined; hot and achy, lost to his kisses and craving his touch. She was also drawn to the kindness in him, but there were many things about him she didn't know. Perhaps after dinner tonight, she'd understand more. Surely when she saw him with his mother, she'd get a better idea of the kind of family he'd grown up in.

  Because if she stayed in this time, she knew she'd think of Grant and family often. She'd think of them walking along the beach with Colin . . . and maybe even more children. Children with blond hair and dimples. She gripped the arms of the chair and suppressed a sigh.

  "Erina?" Grant said, looking up from his desk. "Are you getting tired? I'll be finished in just a few minutes."

  "I'm fine. I'm just thinkin' about . . . Colin."

  "Why don't you ask my secretary to help you phone the hospital? You can talk to Colin's nurse and find out that's he's okay."

  "She can do that?"

  "Of course. You can call anywhere you'd like."

  "Excuse me then," she said to both Grant and Mr. Abbott.

  She watched Grant's secretary, a charmingly efficient woman named Margaret, dial the telephone and connect to the hospital. Within a few seconds, she handed the phone to Erina. "Mrs. Bea Parker is on the line," she said, smiling.

  "Mrs. Parker?"

  "Hello, Ms. O'Shea. Little Colin is fine. He's lying in his bed, trying to reach the mobile above his bed."

  "He does love to look at the colors and shapes."