The last thing Leah heard as she closed the front door was Betsy giggling and Sam telling her to stuff it. Leah started to turn back. Her grandfather said, "Sam can take care of himself. He's been doing it for years."
"Yes, I know. Ever since Roger left us."
"This Betsy won't know what hit her."
"Don't say that. What if Sam—"
"You worry too much, girl. Sam would never hit a girl. H—he knows better."
Her grandfather was right Sam was the one sane person in their family. He was never the reason they moved on to another town. One place hadn't been able to handle having a four-year-old start school and then need to skip two grades halfway through that first year. Two other towns had had trouble with her grandfather and his experiments that had gone awry.
When they pulled up in front of Margaret O'Grady's large, three-story, white house, Leah twisted about and stopped her grandfather from leaving the car. "Gramps, I think you should be careful what you say."
"I'm not hiding what I love to do. If people can't take it, then the Hades with them."
"No, I mean your colorful way of expressing yourself from time to time. Dr. O'Grady is a lady."
His eyes narrowed on her. "Your grandmother was one of the finest ladies around. I'm not putting on fancy airs for anyone. I think after seventy-five years I have a right to speak my mind." He wrenched open the car door and scooted out, the slamming sound reverberating throughout the interior.
Leah squeezed her eyes closed and gripped the steering wheel. After counting all the way to one hundred, she took in several deep breaths and willed herself to be calm. The next two hours might be the longest two hours that she'd had to live through in quite a while. She loved her grandfather dearly, but sometimes he could be so difficult.
By the time Leah made her way to the front door Margaret had opened it, and was standing in the entrance greeting Harold Trenton Smith with a warm smile on her face and a firm handshake. Her grandfather beamed, his blue eyes lit. He held Margaret's hand longer than necessary, and neither one seemed to care that there was another person around. Leah coughed discreetly behind her grandfather, and he reluctantly released the older woman's grip, stepping to the side.
"Margaret, you remember my granddaughter, Leah Taylor," he said in the most polite voice Leah had heard him use in a long time.
"Why, sure. Please come in, you two."
Margaret gave her just as warm a smile as she gave her grandfather, and Leah responded to the older woman, some of the tension evaporating from the conversation with Gramps. Maybe this evening wouldn't be so bad, Leah thought as she entered the house and followed the pair into the living room.
The second she saw Shane O'Grady sitting on the couch that thought fled, only to be replaced with ones that didn't make sense. Her mind kept dwelling on the way the man sat casually, nursing a drink of ice tea, his long slender fingers curled around the glass, while his gaze tracked her entrance. Sensations—a fluttering in the pit of her stomach and the pounding rapidity of her pulse—bombarded her as she tried to ignore him and this suddenly uncharacteristic reaction to the man.
"This is my son, Shane O'Grady. I thought we would make this a foursome. I do believe he lives across the street from you."
Leah heard Margaret talking, but the world faded away except for the presence of Shane, who placed his glass on the coffee table and stood to shake first her grandfather's hand, then Leah's. Shane's movements were a study in agility and coordination, with not one wasted motion. Dressed in black slacks and a white polo shirt, he looked at ease, yet Leah sensed alertness underneath his facade ready to spring forth if the need arose. She could picture him in an emergency room, handling case after case with expert authority and no hesitation. He commanded people's attention when he was in a room. She began to wonder if the only thing that rattled his bones was a dog named Arnold, who liked to eat newspapers for breakfast.
"Leah and I already met this morning," Shane said to his mother and Leah's grandfather as Shane released her hand.
"You didn't tell me that, girl."
"The subject didn't come up. I didn't realize that Dr. O'Grady was going to be here tonight." She imagined the feel of his fingers against hers as if they were still wrapped about her hand. The imagery caused her to feel warm all over.
"Shane, please," he said, a sparkle in his dark eyes that spoke of a secret between them.
"That's my fault. I forgot when I asked you and Harold to dinner that tonight is my son's regular night to eat with me." Margaret looked at everyone. There wasn't an ounce of meekness in her expression or regret at her "mistake" in her voice.
This woman knew exactly what she did every hour of the day, Leah thought, but couldn't be upset with Margaret. There was a warmth to her that drew a person immediately. Too bad her son didn't take after his mother. Then Leah remembered earlier that day at the clinic. He had been different, civil, polite as if the confrontation over Arnold had never taken place.
Shane waved his hand toward the couch where he was sitting. "Have a seat, Leah."
She caught sight of a gold wedding band on his finger and tensed. He was married. Why had she assumed he was single? Why was she experiencing disappointment at the fact he was unattainable? She certainly had no intention of dating anyone. Where was his wife?
"Would anyone like some ice tea, or something else to drink?" Margaret asked, heading to a bar set in the corner.
"I'll take a swallow of whiskey on the rocks," her grandfather answered, following her to help her with the drinks. "After the day I've had, I believe I need it"
"Ice tea for me." Leah eased into the chair across from Shane before everyone else took a seat and left her to sit on the couch beside him. She tried not to look toward him or stare at his wedding band, but she felt his gaze on her and it made her feel dizzy, as though she had whirled around and around, then suddenly stopped.
While her grandfather and Margaret were fixing the drinks, Leah searched her mind for something to say to break the subtle tension between her and Shane. "Will your wife be joining us tonight?"
He frowned, his brows knitted together. "My wife died three years ago."
The heat of embarrassment blazed in her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I just thought—" She stared at his left hand, any words she was going to say stuck in her throat
He glanced down at his wedding ring, rubbing his finger across the smooth surface. "Oh, I see."
Margaret chose that moment to hand Leah her glass. She immediately took several long sips of her tea. Her throat felt parched and her nerves rubbed raw, and the evening had only just begun. Contradictory emotions swirled inside her. He was no longer unattainable, or was he? He was still wearing his wedding ring after three years.
"I'm glad to see my son welcomed you to the neighborhood."
Leah nearly choked on her tea and ended up coughing, which caused her grandfather to pound on her back. When she found her voice, she said, "I'm not sure welcomed is the right word."
"Oh?" Margaret's eyebrows rose.
"Let's just say her dog and I aren't on friendly terms." Shane leaned back, a frown still furrowing his forehead.
"What has Arnold done now?"
"Nothing, Gramps." Leah saw the look in her grandfather's eyes and hastily added, "What I mean to say is, Arnold is exploring his environment, that's all. You know how he is when he first arrives in a new town."
"And eating newspapers while he's at it" Shane sipped at his tea, his gaze connecting with Leah's in a challenge, daring her to deny what he knew to be the truth.
"That's a new one for Arnold," Her grandfather chuckled. "Now if you had said eating your flowers, I wouldn't have doubted it one bit. He has a particular liking for petunias. That used to drive our neighbors in the last town crazy."
Leah wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Before the evening was over, her grandfather would have their whole life history recited. By tomorrow the town would know what a risk they were, and would probably form a committee to come
calling on them before the week was out. Maybe she shouldn't work on unpacking those boxes in the living room. Maybe she should wait and see what happened before she exerted any more time and energy. Again she realized how tired she was of all their moving in the past few years and desperately wanted to stay put even if Shane was her neighbor. She was sure that with time she could learn to live with him across the street.
"I assure you that Arnold won't bother your newspaper from now on," Leah said, smoothing her short, denim skirt over and over. She didn't have anything else to do with her hands, which were trembling so she didn't want to pick up her glass again.
"Oh, so you admit he did it. That's a switch from this morning."
"I didn't know what I know now." She met his gaze with a direct look and was determined not to flinch, or even blink.
"What's that?"
"A piece of newspaper was dangling from his collar."
Shane tossed back his head and laughed.
His laughter slid deliriously down her spine, making a pool of heat ripple outward from a knot in her stomach. "I still don't know how he got out, though."
"Remember, Leah, he dug under the fence the last time."
"But there are no holes. I checked this afternoon."
Gramps slapped his leg. "I do believe those old movies of Gene Autry that he watched with me went to the dog's head. He always did like the song, 'Don't Fence Me In.'"
"What kind of dog is Arnold?" Margaret asked.
"A beagle." Her grandfather grinned, his attention focused on the older woman, who sat near him in a peach-colored wing chair.
Margaret smiled. "Well, that explains it. It's hard to keep one from roaming."
"Just make sure he doesn't roam into my yard again."
"I got a padlock for the gate. No way will he be able to open it." Leah stared pointedly at Shane, her heartbeat accelerating at the half closed look he was giving her. It shivered down her length, leaving a path as though his fingers had caressed her.
"Let's hope you're right."
The air pulsated with a finely honed tension that sprang instantly between her and Shane. It was as if her grandfather and Margaret weren't even in the room with them. Everything dimmed in her consciousness except the man sitting on the couch across from her. She wanted to look away, but didn't dare. He was challenging her on a level that went beyond their dog problem.
When the phone rang, Leah nearly jumped from the chair. As Margaret went to answer it Leah collapsed back and slid her glance away from Shane. She was shaken to her core by the way his gaze seemed to possess her. She wouldn't let herself be attracted to this man. Her life was already complicated enough with her crazy family, and she certainly didn't want to experience another Roger. The few men she had dated had practically run from her house as if it were on fire. One had actually gotten into a debate with Joey when he was five, and when the date lost the debate, he had abruptly ended the evening before they had even left the house for dinner.
"Leah, it's for you." Margaret's voice, with an anxious note in it, pulled Leah away from her troubling thoughts.
She shot to her feet, her heart pounding against her rib cage triple time. Drawing in calming breaths, she hurried to the phone and took it from Margaret. Leah clasped the ivory plastic hard to still the quivering in her hand. She had done this too many times in her life.
"Yes?"
"Mom." Sam's voice was shaky. He rushed on. "Joey tried to fly again. He isn't moving."
"Where's Betsy?"
"She ran away screaming."
Tears choked her son's voice, and Leah thought her world was falling apart. "I'll be there. Call 911. And don't move him."
As she replaced the phone, Shane came up behind her. His hands on her arms steadied her. The sudden urge to lean back into him swamped her, but there was no time to give into that luxury.
"I'll get my bag. We can make it quicker than an ambulance." Shane gently squeezed her arm before crossing to the hallway.
She was at the door when her grandfather said, "Margaret and I will follow you two."
"What happened?" Shane asked as he took her keys and slid behind the wheel.
"Joey tried—tried to fly." Stunned, she sucked in a breath that was way too shallow. She had to stay calm.
"Fly?"
She nodded, the numbness beginning to take over. "The last time, he jumped off the house. I thought with a two-story one he wouldn't try it again. I can't seem to stay ahead of that kid." She knew her voice sounded flat, expressionless, her emotions frozen, as she tried not to think beyond getting to her son.
"He'll be okay."
"You can't say that"
"I'll take care of him. I won't let anything happen to him."
She wished she could believe those words, not ever having had anyone say something like that to her. She had always been the caretaker, and she didn't see that role changing.
Chapter Three
"Thank God you're here. Betsy's at our house hysterical." The teenager's father, Ned, grabbed for Shane's arm. "All because Madge made her baby-sit that menace." The man, his beer belly barely covered by a white T-shirt, jerked his thumb toward Joey.
Leah rushed past Ned Shiplock toward her son, the menace. Joey was sitting on the ground next to Sam, smiling and gesturing toward the roof of their two-story house. Now that she saw that her youngest was all right, she was going to kill him for scaring her to death one more time. She was amazed her hair hadn't prematurely turned gray.
"Mom. Mom, you should have seen me. All I need is a higher place to launch my flying machine from, and I know it will work."
"Higher place?" Leah tried to keep the hysterical tone from her voice, not wanting to join the ranks of the Betsys of this world, but she didn't quite succeed. "Flying machine?"
Joey gave her the look of a man embarked on a mission of great importance. "Yes, I think this design will actually work."
Here she had a six-year-old talking about designs and launching as if he worked for NASA. The throbbing began behind her eyes, and was quickly spreading to encompass her whole head. She breathed deeply of the hot summer air, trying to calm herself enough not to scream at Joey, not to shake some common sense into her son.
"There will be no next time until you leave home. Is that understood, Joseph Robert Taylor?"
"But Mom, I'll redesign the wing structure so that—"
"No. I want your promise you won't attempt this again without my permission." She was surprised her voice actually was level, the hysteria gone. Between her grandfather and her son, she simply didn't have the energy to get upset for more than a few seconds. She was learning to stay calm out of a deep survival instinct.
Shane knelt next to Joey, opened his black bag, and took out his stethoscope. "Let me check you out before you get up. I'm Dr. O'Grady."
"Yes, I know. I saw you this morning conversing with Mom at your clinic. I've thought about being a pediatrician myself. However, I decided against that a few months ago. I think the action will be in research into human DNA. Now I want to go into microbiology and work on genetic engineering."
Shane blinked, his hand stopping in midair. Then he glanced back at Leah, as though not sure what to say to her youngest. She shrugged, realizing that before the evening was finished she would have to explain her son to Shane, a sure way to discourage any further contact with the man. She should be utterly pleased, but she wasn't and that surprised her.
"I'm just experimenting with flying because I've wanted to fly ever since I was two. I will, too, one day, when I convince Mom it's perfectly safe, that I know what I'm doing. I've studied the mechanics of flying—"
One of Shane's eyebrows quirked. "Safe? You have a nasty cut on your leg, and I suspect several bruises will develop before morning. I'm not sure I'd call that safe."
"These abrasions are nothing. I just had the wind knocked out of me." Joey patted the ground around him until he found his glasses and put them on. They sat crookedly on his face because the f
rame was bent.
"Shane, remember Betsy. The boy is fine. My daughter isn't, especially after he came swooping down from the roof and landed on her. She may be scarred for life." Ned towered over the foursome, his fists on his bulging hips, his foot tapping impatiently.
"As I told you earlier, I'll be with you in a moment, Ned." Shane ran his hands over Joey's legs, checking for broken bones.
"I'm perfectly all right. I would know if I had broken a bone." Joey tried to right his glasses, but they remained lopsided on his nose.
"Still I'm sure your mother would like a second opinion on that. Let's humor her," Shane whispered, winking at Joey as though they were coconspirators.
"You're probably right. She gets concerned about those kind of things."
"Yeah, mothers are like that"
Her youngest son relaxed while Shane completed his examination, even though Joey hated doctors about as much as her grandfather. Leah watched while she listened to Ned continuing to tap an impatient beat that was quickly becoming a form of mental torture. There was still a chance she might follow in Betsy's footsteps after all, and run screaming down the street.
"Well, aren't you through yet?" Ned's whiny voice filled the hot air with a grating sound that was matching his tapping.
"I believe, Joey, your prognosis is correct. You're fine." Shane snapped his black bag closed.
Leah's heart melted as she listened to Shane talk to her son as though they were equals. Her earlier assessment of Shane O'Grady began to change.
"Excuse me. I'm still here, Shane." Ned shifted his bulky weight from one foot to the other.
As if anyone could forget that, Leah thought as she stepped in to take over for Shane.
"I think it's time for bed, young man. What happened to you reading in your room tonight?" Joey's sheepish look told her all she needed to know. "How long did you wait until after I cleared the driveway?"
"Fifteen minutes. Sometimes you come back because Gramps forgets something."
"We will discuss this tomorrow morning after I've had time to cool off. Right now I'm thinking of ways to freeze you until you turn eighteen. Then maybe I might not age before my time."
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