Sanctuary Island

by Everett, Lily

  “Just don’t faint,” he told her.

  Ella waved an airy hand and folded down to kneel beside the mare’s head. “No worries. I’ve never fainted in my life.”

  Grady sincerely hoped this wasn’t an instance of there being a first time for everything.

  Especially since she’d be confronted with worse things than the miracle of life in a second, here.

  Any minute now, Grady was going to have to quit stalling, strip off his gloves, roll up his sleeves, and expose his scars to the open air and the sight of another human being for the first time in five years.

  The mare groaned, a drawn-out, exhausted expulsion of air that shoved Grady into action.

  He couldn’t think about it. He couldn’t watch for Ella’s reaction when she saw the ruin of his hands and arms. He just had to rip off his protective coverings, like tearing off a bandage, and keep moving.

  Holding his breath, Grady ground down on his back teeth and took off his gloves.

  CHAPTER 13

  Thin and white, raised in some places, puckered in others, the scars patchworking the skin of Grady’s large, square hands stole Ella’s breath and every scrap of her attention.

  And he didn’t stop with the gloves. Moving stiffly, almost mechanically, he unbuttoned the cuffs of the green flannel shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders.

  Ella’s gaze traced the marks of his injury up his strong wrists and over the tensed, corded muscles of his forearms. The scars stopped below his right elbow, but on the left side, they kept going, a vicious, slashing pattern of violence that disappeared under the short sleeve of his cotton undershirt.

  “I know they’re ugly, but if you’re going to pass out, try not to fall on the mare.”

  Her eyes snapped to his. The hard-jawed face was shadowed with a wariness that hurt Ella’s heart. Grady appeared braced for some theatrical fit of horror.

  And she did feel horrified, but not because the scars were so ugly. They weren’t pretty … but what caught at her chest and stole her breath was the amount of pain they represented. Imagining what he must have suffered to cause scars like that tightened a vise around her chest.

  She wanted to deny it, tell him the scars weren’t ugly, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her. Just by looking at him, she could tell he was poised on the verge of a total shutdown.

  Her reaction to these scars meant something to him. And even if it was only that he’d clearly been hiding them for a long time, Ella still felt the full weight of responsibility bearing down on her next words.

  The last thing Grady Wilkes wanted was her pity.

  Lifting her chin, she leveled him with a stern look. “I already told you, I don’t faint. Now come on, focus. This horse needs our help. What can I do?”

  The lines at the corners of his eyes smoothed out. In fact, Ella saw a lessening of tension in his entire face, down his neck and into the line of his shoulders, making him suddenly look both younger and more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him.

  Grady blew out a breath, stirring the burnished gold lock of hair that fell boyishly over his forehead. “Okay, you kneel down and hold her head. Keep her from moving around too much.”

  Trying not to think about what was going to happen, or how close she now was to the mare’s large teeth, Ella dropped to her knees and placed tentative hands on the horse’s sweat-flecked hide.

  “You can do this,” she muttered, half to Grady and half to herself. When he nodded once and pressed his lips together firmly, Ella braced herself for something disgusting.

  Grady crouched behind the mare, muttered something under his breath that sounded like “in and up”—oh no—and before Ella could do more than curl her hands loosely around the horse’s head to stop her thrashing, Grady had one arm inside the mare up to the wrist.

  After a tense thirty seconds that felt more like an hour—and Ella could only imagine how the poor horse felt—he gasped and twisted his torso, exerting steady pressure as he pulled backward away from the animal in time with her contraction.

  The mare’s nostrils flared, her large head heavy and warm in Ella’s lap. Ella found herself stroking the velvety soft nose and humming nonsense words as Grady sat heavily on the sand and propped both arms on his raised knees.

  With a quick glance at Ella, he grabbed his flannel shirt from the ground and used it to wipe at his right arm. “I found the other leg and got the foal repositioned. I think she’s going to be okay now.”

  Peering down the length of the horse’s shivering body, Ella couldn’t really see anything. Which, actually, was fine with her.

  She didn’t need to see what was happening to know that nature had taken over, and things were moving quickly.

  “We need to stick close and monitor her,” Grady said, his low, wrecked voice causing a strange clenching tightness in Ella’s body.

  “She’s tired,” he went on, “so I might have to help pull the foal out. But you could probably let go of her, if you want.”

  Ella’s sore ankle was throbbing a bit, folded under her. There was sand in her shoes and a line of sweat trickling down her back that she desperately wanted to itch away.

  “I’m okay, actually.”

  Grady nodded, looking a little surprised, but he couldn’t have been as shocked as Ella, because it was actually true.

  She wasn’t ready to give up her spot holding the horse’s head. Every shudder, every heartbeat, every contraction that racked the mare’s body reverberated through Ella. And every time she bent over the mare’s neck to murmur into the long, sensitive ears, and the horse calmed, Ella felt a wash of something like awe melting her minor aches and expanding her heart until it felt like it would burst through the cage of her ribs.

  The next half hour was one of the most intense of Ella’s life. After letting the mare rest for a few minutes, Grady gently wrapped his flannel shirt around the foal’s exposed hooves and tugged to help the mare deliver the head and shoulders.

  The shoulders were the worst part, and when it was over, all three of them needed another rest.

  Grady threw himself down beside the mare, stretching his back in a big arch like a jungle cat finding a patch of sun. “You’re doing great,” he panted.

  “She is, isn’t she?” Ella could hear the pride and admiration in her own voice, but she couldn’t help it any more than she could stop herself from combing her fingers through the mare’s coarse, tangled forelock.

  Turning his head to stare at her, Grady said, “Yeah, she is. But I meant you, actually. I know you’re not exactly a horse person, but you’re really helping her.”

  Heat flooded Ella’s cheeks. “It shows, huh? No, Merry’s the one whose horsey phase never really went away. I went through it when I was younger, like a lot of girls, but I’ve never actually been around a real live horse until now. It’s not how I thought it would be.”

  “Everything’s messier in real life.”

  Ella nodded, conceding the point. “But that’s not really what I meant. Seeing this whole thing, being a part of it … I don’t know how to explain it. I haven’t felt anything like this in a long time. Maybe ever.”

  He locked eyes with her as a smile spread across his tired face. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Her heart did a slow roll in her chest, and Ella smiled back. “So am I,” she said, and meant it.

  The mare lifted her weary head from Ella’s lap and shifted restlessly.

  “Okay, break’s over,” Grady announced, curling back up to his knees.

  After that, everything seemed to unfold in a blur. Unbelievably quickly, almost between one heartbeat and the next: one moment there were the three of them, Grady bent over and swearing under his breath and Ella’s shoulder muscles coiled in sympathetic pain and the mare pushing with her last ounce of strength … and then there were four.

  Gasping for air and trembling with the aftermath of exertion, Ella couldn’t take her eyes off the tiny, spindle-legged creature shivering on the gritty sand a few feet f
rom its mother.

  “Try to keep her still,” Grady whispered thickly, moving slowly back. “If she stands up too soon, it’ll break the umbilical cord, which is still doing some important stuff.”

  Ella nodded, unable to speak through a throat clogged with emotion. For long, long moments, the small group on the beach worked to catch its breath and come down from the adrenaline rush of the past hour.

  Within minutes of entering the world, the foal had hitched itself over onto its stomach with its legs folded under it. The foal was dark, its fur matted with fluid and roughed up all over its skinny, awkward body. Ella had never seen anything more glorious.

  *

  “What happens now?”

  Ella stared up at him, and Grady saw silvery tear tracks streaking through the smudges of sand and sweat on her red cheeks. She didn’t seem to know she was crying. Her eyes shone with more than the tears.

  Something rushed through him like a torrent, a wave of emotion strong enough to knock him off his feet.

  Through sheer force of will, he kept his balance. “They need to stay connected for about an hour, and then sometime in the first six hours, the foal should stand and try to nurse.”

  Ella cooed a little, deep in her throat, a softness around her eyes that Grady loved.

  In the distance, Grady caught the sound of a faulty engine stalling out and turning over. He didn’t need to look back toward the road to know Ben had finally arrived.

  The veterinarian’s approach through the tall grass was slow and cautious, but when he was only halfway across the meadow, the mare spooked. Pulling her head out of Ella’s lap, she heaved herself to her feet in a weary scramble of long legs and snorting to stand over the foal.

  Grady gave the new mother and baby a wide berth, circling around to help Ella up. He felt the way she stiffened when she finally unfolded her legs, but even when he looked at her sharply, he didn’t detect much more pain than the pins and needles of blood flowing back to her extremities.

  “Thanks,” she said. She was a beautiful, breathless mess, her dark hair damp with perspiration at the temples. One long strand stuck to her cheek, and without thinking, he reached toward her face to smooth it back behind her ear.

  The sight of his ugly, scarred hand next to her flawless skin sent a shock of wrongness through him. He faltered, clenching that hand into a loose fist, but Ella’s gaze never wavered. She put her hand on his wrist, her touch landing as delicately as a butterfly, and pressed his fingers to her cheek.

  Grady felt the fine-grained texture of her skin against the pads of his fingertips like a solid hit to the gut.

  The moment was quiet and suspended, a blossom drifting to the surface of a lake. Grady’s mind was nothing but static, dizzy white noise pulsing with a single thought.

  Want.

  “The cavalry’s here!”

  Ben’s gruff voice startled them apart. Grady dropped his hand from her face, closing his fingers to preserve the lingering sensation of human contact against his palm. Tugging his gloves out of the back pocket of his jeans, he slid them on with a sense of mingled relief and suffocation as he faced his closest friend.

  “You’re late.”

  Ben smirked and shrugged his backpack full of medical instruments off his shoulder. “That’s the cavalry for you—always swooping in at the last minute to do the cleanup and take all the glory.”

  His hands were busy sifting through his tool kit, but he indicated the mother and baby with his chin. “Looks like you two managed just fine without me. Gonna introduce me to your lovely assistant?”

  “Sorry.” Grady stuck his hands in his pockets, not sure where to look. “Ella, this is Dr. Ben Fairfax. Ben, Ella.”

  “You’re Jo’s other daughter.” Ben was still crouched over his open backpack, but Grady noted the way the back of his neck flushed red. “I just had the pleasure of giving your sister a tour of the barn.”

  Ella laughed, the sweet, husky sound rolling through Grady like thunder. “I can’t believe she didn’t demand to come out here with you. This is right up her alley.”

  Ben stood up, clutching a pair of latex surgical gloves and a cup of something Grady didn’t recognize. “She didn’t ask. But I wouldn’t have brought her, anyway. Don’t need the distraction of a civilian fluttering around over how adorable the widdle baby horse is. No offense.”

  The quirk of Ella’s lips made Grady want to kiss her. “None taken. And if Merry had asked to come along, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be having this conversation. She’s hard to say no to.”

  “Yeah,” Grady commented. “I don’t get the sense that she’s the shy, retiring type.”

  Ella snorted. “Merry? Shy? Right. I think she was born without the inhibition gene.”

  Mouth twisting in a mockery of a grin, Ben shrugged. “Hey, maybe she just didn’t like me. Wouldn’t be the first person, won’t be the last.”

  A glance at Ella’s thoughtful expression told Grady she hadn’t missed the dark thundercloud over Ben’s head when he talked about Miss Merry Preston.

  Grady decided to do Ben a solid and practice a little deflection. “So you’re good here, right? I think I’d better get Ella home. Jo will kill me if I let her daughter keel over from exhaustion on her first full day.”

  “Do we have to leave? I want to see the baby take its first steps!” Ella wobbled as she said it, though.

  Grady gentled his voice, but not enough so she’d feel like he was handling her. “It could be dinnertime before he figures out what his legs are for. Don’t worry, the horses are in good hands with Ben, and if you want, I’ll bring you back out to check on them tomorrow.”

  God knew, Grady wouldn’t be able to stay away.

  As if eavesdropping on his thoughts, Ben jabbed an accusing finger in Grady’s general direction. “Don’t get too close, if you do come back. These two need to bond. And they’re not domesticated barn animals—that foal doesn’t need to imprint on a human or get used to humans being around.”

  “Killjoy,” Grady grumped with a sideways look at the pout Ella was working, but he knew Ben was right.

  Ben waved them off, turning the full force of his attention on the shivering foal, and with a last look over her shoulder, Ella began the long trudge back to the car.

  Grady almost started after her, but sighed and turned back, defeated by his need to make sure his friend was all right.

  He didn’t have so many friends that he could afford to ignore any of them.

  Clasping Ben’s shoulder, Grady gave him a gentle shake. “Hey, man. You doing okay?”

  Ben snorted without looking up from his careful inspection of the umbilical cord. The deft motions of Ben’s long fingers reminded Grady that before his friend got his large-animal vet certifications, he’d actually trained as a surgeon. A people surgeon.

  “Not as okay as some I could name,” Ben said with a sardonic lilt. “You dog, you.”

  Damn it. This was what happened when Grady tried to do the manly heart-to-heart thing. He hedged with, “What do you mean?”

  And there went Ben’s left eyebrow. He must have extra facial muscles to be able to make it stick up like that. “Only you, Grady. Only you would think a dangerous, problematic foaling on an open beach was the perfect way to seduce a mainlander into loving Sanctuary.”

  “Hey, it’s not like I planned this! I thought we’d check out some scenery, then take a hike up Wanderer’s Point, maybe go cliff diving.”

  Ben appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a snicker. “And instead, she ended up sweating through an hour of equine labor. Not that cliff diving would’ve been better—I honestly don’t know why Jo asked you and your death wish to play tour guide. Which reminds me, you know I was with Jo when I got your call?”

  “I don’t have a death wish. I have a life wish! And life is better when you take some risks, get your blood pumping.” He paused, fiddled with the hem of his filthy shirt. “Was Jo mad?”

  “Expect to hea
r from her.” Ben spared him a sympathetic grimace. “Jo’s daughters … they’re not what I expected.”

  “No.” Grady thought about the way Ella had pitched in and helped, even though she was clearly afraid of the horse at first. “They’re full of surprises. Like true Hollister women.”

  Ben’s mouth flattened into a straight line. “I hate surprises.”

  “Hate. That’s what we’re going with, huh? Because when you talked about Merry before, I got the distinct impression—”

  “Leave it. Merry Preston wouldn’t look twice at someone like me—and I wouldn’t want her to. Sweetness and light give me hives.” Ben nodded at Ella’s retreating back. “Now get going, before that city girl decides to steal your Jeep and drive herself home.”

  Grady started walking backward, keeping his friend pinned with a grin. “Surprises are good for the soul, man. Don’t knock ’em.”

  Ben waved him away irritably, and Grady took off after Ella with the word “home” echoing through his brain.

  He wondered what Ella would say if he invited her back to his house—aka the Fortress of Solitude, as Taylor called it, since he never invited anyone over. The little shingled cottage was his refuge. The silence and peace he found there were his reward for recovering enough to leave his uncle’s house and buy a place of his own.

  So what if Grady didn’t like a lot of company? His friends knew who they were—they didn’t need dinner parties and invitations to watch the game in his living room.

  But now that Ben had inadvertently injected the idea into Grady’s head, when he closed his eyes, he didn’t have any trouble picturing Ella there.

  His steps slowed, as if his body knew his startled brain needed a few more seconds to catch up.

  At that moment, Ella looked over her shoulder, probably to see what the heck was taking him so long. The sun sparked off the deep red highlights in her dark hair as the wind caught it and whipped it across her neck.