Midnight Kiss

by Marcia Evanick

  “Of course. As soon as the pumpkins were delivered, we recruited every available pair of hands. Only a skeleton crew was left on the floor to handle the bedridden.” Mary Harris raised her arms and encompassed the entire room. “Have you ever seen them so happy?”

  Thane scowled as he looked around at the chaos. Why hadn’t anyone asked him to help with the pumpkin painting? He would have helped. He searched for Autumn; she had to be in there somewhere. The night before, they had shared the half-dozen white cartons of Chinese food he had shown up with while watching Igor “Yes, master” and the Mummy groan their way to stardom. Autumn had curled up next to him on the couch, tucked her bare feet under her, and proceeded to tell him everything that was going to happen next in the movie. He had loved it. When he had heard Autumn’s sweet voice on the telephone two hours before, their heated good-night kiss was still fresh in his memory.

  A commotion on his right broke into his musing. Thane’s gaze landed on Harold as the older man shook his paintbrush at his roommate, Ned, splattering blue drops everywhere. “. . . and I’m telling you, your pumpkin looks like a wimp.”

  “It is not. You’re just jealous because Beatrice likes mine better.”

  Thane quickly excused himself to Nurse Harris and hurried over to the table before someone chucked a pumpkin. He had just regained order when Claudia VanZant stood up and announced she couldn’t possibly paint the pumpkin given to her. Thane slowly made his way around the crowded room, offering compliments to beaming residents. He was two chairs away from the demanding, immaculate Claudia when he spotted Autumn. She was coming from the opposite direction. He knew Autumn had to be somewhere in the middle of the pandemonium; after all, she caused it.

  Autumn bent and pressed a kiss to Lillian’s rosy cheek. “Lil, that’s wonderful. I really like the eyes.” She straightened up and looked toward Claudia. Her heart missed a beat when she spotted Thane talking to the eighty-two-year-old prima donna, the closest thing to royalty Maple Leaf had.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with your pumpkin, Claudia,” Thane said.

  “It’s not the shape of the pumpkin.”

  Thane was still amazed at Claudia’s French accent. She had been twenty-one when she had left her homeland to marry an American. Sixty-one years was a long time to carry an accent. “Then what exactly is wrong with it?”

  Claudia smoothed a wrinkle out of her smock and closed a leather case containing her personal camel-hair paintbrushes. “It has no personality. How can you expect me to bring out the essence of Halloween on a lifeless orange blob?”

  Thane glanced toward Autumn for help, suppressing the idea to apologize for his lack of artistic understanding.

  Autumn read his silent appeal and picked up and studied the offending pumpkin. After a moment she turned to Claudia. “You’re absolutely right.”

  Claudia nodded her approval.

  “I have one pumpkin left, but I’m not sure it’s for you.”

  “Pourquoi?”

  In a low whisper, Autumn explained, “It was at the bottom of the box, and quite frankly it’s ugly and misshaped.”

  Claudia bent her head and considered the information. Her long red-lacquered nails drummed on the table for a full minute. “Bring this ugly duckling to me, please.”

  Autumn hurried off and quickly returned with the pumpkin. Claudia took it in her hands and closed her eyes in concentration. “Perfect, ma cherie. I can feel the haunting brutality of being a pumpkin pouring from it.” In a surprisingly swift movement Claudia sat down and reopened her case to select a fine-tipped brush.

  Thane looked at Autumn as Claudia started to paint the lopsided pumpkin. He reached out and gently ran a finger down Autumn’s cheek where a red paint streak marred its perfection. “Every time I see you, you have a dirty face.”

  Mesmerized by the intimacy of his gesture, she bit her lip to stifle a groan. “Did I have a dirty face last night?”

  “No, I guess it’s every other time I see you that you’re covered with either paint or dirt.”

  She rubbed the back of her hand across her cheek. “Sorry about that. Darlene got carried away with her pumpkin’s mouth.”

  Thane captured her hand. “Don’t apologize. Paint becomes you.” He smiled at the flush stealing up her cheek. “Speaking of pumpkins, I have a bone to pick with you.”

  “About what? I asked your permission this morning.”

  “You asked to paint a few pumpkins.”

  “This is a few pumpkins.”

  Exasperated. Thane said, “There has to be fifty pumpkins here.”

  “That is a few.”

  “Not if you’re counting earthquakes, elephants, or children.”

  Autumn glared. “It is a few if you’re counting stars, grains of sand, or fishes in the sea.”

  Thane chuckled. They were both right. He held up his hands in surrender. “Next time I’ll make sure I have a complete definition of what you have in mind before granting permission to one of your ventures.”

  Autumn studied his playful expression. “Why did you agree to it? I’m sure the inspectors wouldn’t count pumpkin painting high on their list of desirable activities.”

  “Do you believe, because you asked so nicely?”

  “No.”

  “How about I had just finished talking to a doctor in Norfolk where the inspection team was yesterday? If the team is over there, we should be safe here for a couple of days.”

  “Here I thought you were being nice.”

  “I am nice,” Thane said. “I’m just not stupid.” He glanced around the room and smiled. “Where did you come up with fifty pumpkins on two hours’ notice?”

  “A farmer.”

  Astonished, Thane asked, “A farmer donated all these pumpkins?”

  An impish light gleamed in her eyes. “With a little incentive.”

  “What did you promise in return?”

  “A maple rocker his wife had been eyeing.”

  “I didn’t realize bartering was still practiced in America.”

  “In my shop it is.”

  Thane’s gaze zeroed in on the small cluster of intriguing freckles scattered across her nose. “Let me guess. The farmer didn’t have the cash so you made use of something he did have.”

  “Hmmm . . .”

  He looked around the noisy room and grinned. Nurses were busily cleaning up proud residents, and even the kitchen staff was helping to steady a shaking hand. Reko was flexing his muscles by lifting a giggling Esther back into her wheelchair. “Want to hear something scary?”

  “What?”

  “I’m beginning to like you.”

  Autumn checked to see if they were attracting attention. Nobody seemed to be paying the least bit of notice to them. She smiled. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

  Thane shook his head and started to back away slowly. “I don’t know about you, but it’s scaring the hell out of me.”

  Half an hour later Autumn stood staring into the mirror on her grandfather’s wall. All the paint had been scrubbed off her face, leaving behind a glow of anticipation. Thane was coming over again that night to view more videos.

  “Have you heard one word I’ve been saying?” Paddy asked.

  “Yes, Paddy. First, you want to know if Thane has had any leads yet. Second, you want me to check with the local police to see how long they can lock up the ‘slobbering scoundrel.’ And your last comment was on Lillian’s new dress.”

  “You have been listening to this old man, haven’t you?” A tiny grin curved Paddy’s lips. “She did look ten years younger sitting there all in pink and smiling this morning.”

  Autumn turned away from her reflection and smoothed a wrinkle out of the blue bedspread. “Maybe someone has captured her eye.”

  “You think so?”

  “From what I hear, every female heart has been afluttering since the nocturnal Romeo started to leave his calling card.” Hearing her grandfather’s muttered curse, she impishly added, “I even heard
they had to set Darlene’s pacemaker down a notch.”

  Paddy’s heated Irish oaths filled the room.

  “It’s a real shame you never taught me Gaelic.”

  “You’d be blushing if I did, lass.” He crossed his arms and demanded, “I want the rogue caught.”

  She busied herself fluffing his pillow and straightening the top of his bureau. “I’m sure Doc Clayborne is doing the best he can.”

  “What’s taking him so long?” He smacked his frail, weak legs. “Even with these useless things I could have cracked this case by now.”

  Autumn noticed his stubborn look. “Don’t even think about it.”

  He innocently asked, “About what?”

  “You know perfectly well what! If I find out you’re putting your nose where it doesn’t belong, I’ll move you out of here.”

  “Doc says I can’t go back home.”

  “I know that. But there’s an all-male home in Rawlings.”

  Paddy thundered. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Try me.”

  “Oh, lass.” Paddy mumbled sadly. “You would really put this old tired man in prison where he can’t get even a glimpse of a shapely ankle to carry with him to the grave?”

  Autumn knew a sham when she heard one. “Yes, I would. And if I hear you’re not behaving, I’ll even make sure you have male nurses.”

  Paddy crossed his arms and tried to stare down his granddaughter. He failed. “Your coldheartedness has to come from the Flannery blood running through your veins. An O’Neil would never threaten such a dire fate.”

  She gently pushed back a wisp of white hair that had fallen across his brow. “It’s only because I do love you and don’t want to see you get hurt that I’m bringing it up, Paddy.”

  A heavy groan sounded as he opened his arms and embraced Autumn. “I know, love.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “You’re just like your grandmother. She always used to try to scare me with untold horrors too.”

  “What was the worst?”

  “Sleeping on the couch,” Paddy answered with a chuckle.

  Autumn laughed and shook her head. She stood up and straightened the plaid lap blanket covering Paddy’s legs. “I see we both knew your weakest point.”

  “I might be old and feeble, but I’m not pushing up daisies yet.”

  “Face it, Paddy, the good Lord just isn’t ready for the ruckus you would cause on the other side of those pearly gates.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go, but first I want your word you won’t try anything foolish.”

  “Have I ever done anything foolish?” Seeing her look of amusement, he hastily said, “Don’t answer that.”

  “Paddy . . .”

  He crossed his fingers under the lap blanket. “Okay, I won’t do anything.”

  Autumn tilted her head and studied her grandfather, not sure if she should believe him or not. Knowing she couldn’t do anything about it right then, she allowed the subject to be dropped. “Behave yourself and I’ll see you this weekend.”

  Chapter Five

  Autumn studied Thane’s enthralled expression as he watched Bela Lugosi claim another victim. She had probably seen Dracula half a dozen times, and it was more fascinating to see someone watch it for the first time than to view the movie itself. She could tell when the good parts started by the way Thane sat up straighter and inched forward on the couch. Right before the poor victim bit the dust, Thane’s hand stopped in midair as it reached for another handful of popcorn.

  She glanced around the living room and bit back a sigh. The room was bathed in shadowy darkness, with the only light coming from the television. She was sitting mere inches from a handsome, healthy male who was more interested in some movie made before either one of them was born than in the intriguing possibilities the night held. Last night’s good-night kiss had been hot, wild, and entirely too short. She had never considered herself a highly passionate person until Thane took her in his arms. Something magical and rare happened whenever he touched her. The feeling was so fleeting and intangible that it begged to be explored. With an impish smile she decided to tempt the fates.

  She lightly brushed the toe of her sock against his leg as she moved closer. Thane threw her a glance before turning back to the movie.

  Autumn shifted toward him, tucking her feet under her and leaning against him.

  Thane’s arm absently came out and hugged her to his side. “It’s okay. It’s only a movie.”

  She ducked her head and hid a smile. He thinks I’m scared of vampires. During the next gruesome scene she squirmed closer and enjoyed the feeling of his arm tightening protectively around her. The next scene earned her a fleeting kiss on top of the head as she buried her face against his chest.

  Autumn was debating whether climbing onto his lap would seem a little extreme for the scene in which they pulled out the wooden stake and mallet, when Thane finally caught on.

  Thane glanced down at the woman in his arm pressed to his side like flypaper and frowned. Something wasn’t right. The previous night she had gleefully described in gory detail every scene that was about to happen in the movie. Tonight she appeared bored with Lon Chaney’s werewolf and disinterested in the blood-sucking count. So why the scared-little-girl routine all of a sudden?

  A wicked grin lit up his face as the answer dawned on him. Autumn wasn’t scared; she was snuggling under false pretenses, the sneak. He gently cupped her face and pressed it against his chest. “Don’t look!”

  Autumn squirmed as a button dug into her cheek and air became scarce.

  In a sudden movement Thane plucked her off the couch and deposited her surprised body on his lap, while keeping her face buried in his shirt collar. “This movie is sick, Autumn. We can’t show it at the home.”

  She tried to lift her face to see what was happening.

  Thane kept his hand on the back of her head. He suppressed a chuckle as her lips moved against his neck to try to mutter something. “Autumn, why didn’t you tell me there was nudity in this film?”

  Nudity! She brought up both hands and tried to push against his chest. What was he watching? There was no nudity in Dracula.

  Thane groaned and raised his eyes toward the ceiling as her bottom wiggled. “Geez, look at the size of them. I hope she doesn’t catch a chest cold. It could kill her.”

  Autumn felt his arms tighten around her like steel bands. Her hands slipped upward around his neck.

  A moan caught in the back of his throat as Autumn’s chest flattened against him. The jig was up, in more ways than one. Any second now Autumn would be feeling exactly what was up, considering she was sitting on it. “Look, isn’t that our Darlene Freeman? I didn’t realize she was an actress before she went into her other profession.”

  A throbbing vein snaking down his neck pounded under her mouth. She ran the tip of her tongue over it and felt him shiver. His hand fell away from the back of her head and leisurely caressed her back. Every resident of Maple Leaf could be streaking his or her way across the silver screen and she wouldn’t have cared. Thane Clayborne was turning into putty beneath her mouth.

  The gentle grazing of her teeth broke his control. He shifted positions and stretched out across the couch with her beneath him. His gaze turned tender as he looked down into her face.

  Autumn settled naturally under his body. She watched as his hand started to reach out to caress her cheek, only to jerk back. Without breaking eye contact she slowly pulled the hand between them. “What do you see, Thane, when you look at this hand?”

  Thane glanced at his large scarred hand being cradled by Autumn’s small smooth one. “Scars.”

  She held the hand up and ran her thumb over a faded scar. “I see a hero,” she said sadly. “I see a man who risked his life to save a child. You should be proud. Not many people possess such courage, Thane.”

  If he hadn’t been searching for the right words to tell her what he really thought, he would have heard the sadness and shame in her voice. His gaze followed
her thumb as it stroked the longest scar. The faded marks didn’t bother him. He knew he was lucky to have as much movement and control in his hand as he did. Scars were as natural to a surgeon as screaming babies were to a pediatrician. Three major reconstruction operations and months of intense therapy had given him a normal hand, if he discounted the scars. He didn’t want a normal hand; he wanted his gifted, talented hand back.

  Autumn frowned as Thane sat up, pulling her with him. “Thane?”

  He slumped his shoulders, rested his forearms on his knees, and stared at the floor. “I lied. I stopped seeing the scars two years ago.”

  “What do you see?”

  “Failure.” His voice broke. “My failure.”

  Autumn studied his bent head. “I don’t understand.”

  He stood up and turned the volume on the television all the way down. Without looking at Autumn he walked over to the large picture window and stared off into the peaceful darkness. “The other night at dinner I told you about how I loved to bandage up people.”

  “You mentioned people, dogs, and inflatable dummies.”

  Thane turned and saw her anxious, lovely face in the flickering glare of the television. Why was this woman so easy to talk to? “By the time I was twelve, I knew exactly what I wanted to be, an orthopedic surgeon.” The faint sound of her indrawn breath seemed to echo across the room. “Out of over a thousand students I ranked number one in my high school graduating class. I was with the cream of the crop in medical school. My internship was labeled brilliant. I was the youngest orthopedic surgeon ever to head the entire department at Shenandoah General.” His voice was low and filled with anguish as he turned back to the darkness. “I had it all.”

  Autumn allowed Thane a few moments of silence. “Until a five-year-old boy stepped in front of a speeding car.”

  “In that split second everything I had ever worked for was beyond my reach.” He watched her reflection in the dark glass. She seemed to be on the verge of saying something a couple of times, but something held her back. Her hair was a mass of curls begging to be tamed. The gold blouse she wore hung to midthigh over a pair of black stretch pants, and a pair of gold socks kept her toes warm. She looked young, innocent, and entirely too inexperienced to understand his feelings of failure.