Lies That Bind

by Shirley Wine

  Does this woman know what she’s doing? For cripe’s sake, Otto hasn’t stood unaided since that damn accident. Luke sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles as taut as fencing wire, poised to leap to the boy’s assistance.

  Otto scrunched his face in fierce concentration, the tip of his tongue protruding from his mouth as he obeyed Brooke’s calm, matter-of-fact instructions. The knuckles on his hands gleamed white as he pulled himself upright. Once he was steady on his feet, Otto looked up at Luke and smiled a wide beaming grin of triumph.

  Luke swallowed hard to disperse the tears stinging the back of his eyes. ‘Way to go, kid.’

  His voice was suspiciously husky and he studiously avoided meeting Brooke’s gaze.

  ‘That’s great.’ She stayed close to the boy’s elbow. ‘Now take it one step at a time. Remember, rest your weight on the crutches so they support you as you take each step. There are three steps on the grass until you reach the concrete path.’

  Luke, his heart in his mouth, watched the boy’s snail-like progress.

  Brooke drilled him with a steely glance. ‘Hold the gate open for Otto and Dad, will you. Then can you can get Otto’s wheelchair, please?’

  The brisk orders had Luke tamping down an angry response. Does she think I’m a thoughtless cretin?

  Frank shambled along beside Otto, his gait uneven. ‘That’s the ticket, son. Each step makes the next one so much easier.’

  Otto’s progress was painfully slow and Luke found it difficult to watch. With a steady look, Brooke ensured he didn’t voice his questions or doubts.

  One day.

  One freaking day and Brooke had Otto up on his very shaky pins.

  Is she pushing the boy too hard, or does she consider me neglectful? Have I let Otto cling to the comfort of that wheelchair for far too long?

  Luke cursed under his breath, for once in his life thoroughly disconcerted. In his desire to protect Otto had he hindered the boy’s progress?

  ‘It’s great that your uncle has already installed a ramp,’ Brooke said to Otto, her voice confident and encouraging.

  The quiet words jerked Luke from his tortured thoughts. ‘Is there anything you need me to do?’ he asked gruffly.

  Brooke’s slanted him a strained smile and, in that one insightful moment, Luke realised that she was nowhere near as confident as she sounded. Her dark eyes were shadowed by worry and she held her lower lip firmly in her teeth.

  ‘Can you stay beside Otto as he negotiates the ramp?’

  Luke heard anxiety in the terse request and hurriedly stepped onto the ramp on the other side of the boy, taking care not to touch Otto or impede his progress, but close enough to support the boy should he falter.

  Frank shuffled ahead of them and Rose pushed the empty wheelchair in their wake.

  ‘It’s only a few more steps, Otto,’ Brooke said, her voice gently encouraging. ‘You can do it.’

  Otto grimaced and a fine sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, but he continued to put one slow foot in front of the other. Once they were all in the hallway, Brooke pulled the wheelchair forward and clicked on the brake with her foot.

  ‘Here’s your chair, Otto.’

  Brooke supported the boy’s weight, taking his crutches as he gripped the arm of his chair and swung himself into it.

  ‘I did it, Uncle Luke.’ Otto looked up at Luke, his smile wide and triumphant. ‘I walked inside by myself.’

  ‘You did indeed, I’m so proud of you.’ Luke fought down unmanly tears as he gripped the boy’s shoulder. ‘Give me a high five.’

  Their palms smacked together loudly.

  ‘I am so proud of you, Otto, you did well.’ Brooke crouched and looked directly into the boy’s eyes. ‘Remember what we talked about. Baby steps. Use your wheelchair when you need to rest your legs, but whenever you can, use your crutches.’

  She rose and laid a hand on the sturdy steel elbow crutches she’d tucked into the bracket she’d attached to the side of his wheelchair at the clinic.

  ‘For sure.’ Otto grinned at her as he spun the wheelchair around. ‘Come on, Rose and Frank.’

  Luke watched Otto tool his way along the corridor, Rose and Frank keeping pace with him, shaking his head in amazement scarcely able to believe that this was the same boy he’d dropped off in Sweetwater earlier this morning. As the trio disappeared into the kitchen, he turned to Brooke. ‘How will he know when to use the wheelchair?’

  ‘He’ll know.’ Brooke turned to face him, her dark eyes soft with compassionate understanding.

  ‘Do you think Otto’s ready for crutches? His legs are so damn weak.’ Luke’s voice was low and vehement as he turned to her, unable to conceal his misgivings.

  Brooke’s breast rose and fell on a sharp breath and her chin jerked upwards. ‘His muscles are weak because they’ve atrophied through lack of exercise. I consulted Otto’s orthopaedic surgeon before making such a radical move.’

  Luke’s stance with his legs apart radiated suspicion and distrust. ‘And he approved?’

  ‘Otto’s bones have healed and the repaired tendons need to be exercised.’ Brooke’s eyes glittered. ‘The specialist is of the opinion that Otto should already have progressed to walking on crutches.’

  Luke stiffened at her tone. It was obvious that Brooke resented his questioning, but he didn’t—couldn’t—regret the inquisition. Ultimately, he was the person responsible for Otto’s and Rose’s wellbeing.

  ‘Are you suggesting that I’ve hindered Otto’s recovery?’ he asked, his voice low and deadly.

  ‘No. That’s not what I’m saying.’ Brooke gripped her hands together so tightly the knuckles turned white. She faced him, her voice and expression earnest. ‘Instant parenting doesn’t come easy, Luke, and you were thrown in at the deep end. Your first priority was those kids’ emotional wellbeing.’

  Luke rubbed at his chin. ‘They’ve taken their parents’ deaths hard.’

  ‘They would be very abnormal if being orphaned didn’t hit them hard.’ Brooke met his gaze without flinching. ‘But now that Rose and Otto are settled with you here, you need to take care of their physical wellbeing. The bones in Otto’s legs are healed and can bear his weight. What he needs to do now is to strengthen and rebuild the atrophied and damaged muscle tissue. He’s not to overdo it, though. That’s just as bad as not doing enough.’

  Luke studied her earnest expression for several tension-filled moments.

  ‘I suppose it’s my job now to rein him in?’ He laughed, as much from the release of worry as from the rueful realisation that so much of Otto’s rehabilitation rested on him.

  ‘It is.’ She nodded, her smile warm and encouraging. ‘Just keep up what you’ve been doing and you’ll do fine.’

  Brooke’s reassuring words eased the worry that at times threatened to drown Luke under its weight.

  ***

  After lunch, when Luke managed to get her alone, Brooke wasn’t all that surprised. Frank had challenged Otto to a game of chess and Rose had obtained Luke’s permission to visit with Charlotte Daintry.

  ‘Rose likes Charlotte?’ Brooke asked, glancing back over her shoulder as she preceded Luke down the wide central corridor of the house.

  ‘She does, and Charlotte has been a godsend.’ Luke opened the door into a small sitting room and stepped back so she could enter. ‘I appreciate how she’s taken Rose under her wing, although I suspect Isabella is the major attraction.’

  ‘Is she the little girl Matt brought home from Argentina?’ Brooke asked as she entered a simply furnished room that screamed man space.

  ‘Yeah. She’s as cute as a button and Rose just loves her.’

  Brooke looked around the room with unabashed curiosity. Well-worn leather chairs sat each side of the log fire and functional, squat oak side tables were placed within easy reach. One beside the chair nearest the window was almost obscured beneath a teetering pile of books. A shelving unit groaned under the weight of yet more books. A globe sat on the top shelf of
the sturdy bookcase, its parchment covering faded and cracked with age.

  Curious, Brooke stepped closer to examine it.

  ‘It’s an antique,’ Luke said near her ear.

  She gave a start, her heartbeat accelerating when she realised he was so close. ‘I gathered this.’

  Luke reached past her to lift the globe down and stood staring at it, his brow furrowed and his eyes going curiously dark. ‘It belonged to my father.’

  Brooke wondered at the slight inflection in his flat, emotionless words. She watched him through narrowed eyes; did he have an issue with his father, or with the globe itself? ‘Is it as old as it looks?’

  ‘I’ve been given to understand it’s dated around about the cusp of the nineteenth century.’ He spun the globe on its axis, avoiding her searching gaze as he pointed to the area in the South Seas. ‘If you look here there is only the very early, indistinct mapping of our area of the world.’

  Brooke looked where he indicated.

  ‘Australia and New Zealand hadn’t been properly mapped when this globe was made.’

  Something in his voice made her look up. Their gazes clashed and she was held by his intense scrutiny. The turbulent emotion she glimpsed in his eyes had apprehension doing a tango up and down her spine.

  Why is he looking at me like this?

  He turned away, breaking the connection. He reached up and put the globe back on the shelf, his movements jerky. Wary, her mouth going dry, Brooke watched him.

  What is he thinking?

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, giving a start as he spun around to face her.

  ‘How do you do it?’

  Taken aback, she stared at him, stammering, ‘Do what?’

  ‘Manage to look so bewitchingly innocent and work at coming across as kind and caring, and yet we both know this is a long way from the truth.’

  The words hit her like a body-blow. Anger and pride had her lifting her chin. She inhaled a slow, uneven breath. Her hands clenched so tightly her fingernails dug into her palms. ‘I think you need to clarify that statement.’

  He raked a hand through his hair, paced across to the fireplace and stood with his back to her, looking down into the empty grate.

  Brooke remained silent. Luke had started this conversation, and it was a discussion she was not prepared to touch in any shape or form.

  ‘I’ve read the reports, seen the photographs, and talked to Thornton’s widow,’ he said, turning to look at her.

  His heated blue gaze burned away any pretence she may have held that Luke was unaware of her past.

  Disappointment vied with dismay. I will not react.

  She did not owe Luke Calloway anything, and certainly not an explanation. She was damned if she would act in anyway contrite, nor would she give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his accusations hurt.

  ‘Then you’ve also read that I was cleared of any involvement in Brad’s death or his shady schemes.’

  ‘Maybe, but Thornton was a married man.’

  ‘And just maybe I didn’t know that little detail until every man and his dog was informed of it by the press,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Have you considered this?’

  ‘Isn’t that what every woman in your position claims?’

  ‘Tell me, what business is this of yours?’ Brooke turned to walk to the door. She refused to stand there and be interrogated by yet one more judgemental man.

  In two strides he crossed the space, gripped her arm and spun her around with considerable force. ‘You’re Rose and Otto’s physical therapist, and I’d be a damn lax guardian if I wasn’t concerned about what influence you could have on them.’

  Caught and held in his fierce grip, scorched and bewildered by his anger, Brooke sucked in a shuddering breath and went completely still, gripped by paralysing fear and bitter memory.

  Not again, never again.

  She closed her eyes in an attempt to shut Luke out. As suddenly as he’d caught her shoulders, his grip eased. His thumbs moved in a rhythmic motion over the flesh covering her shoulder bones. ‘It’s okay, Brooke,’ he murmured. ‘I won’t hurt you.’

  Luke’s gentle words jerked her back to awareness and she yanked herself free.

  ***

  Guilt and regret caught Luke by the throat as he stared down into Brooke’s milk-white face; her dilated pupils and shallow rasping breath were tell-tale indicators of shock. His mind raced. In his years in the Force he’d confronted fear in many guises, but Brooke’s almost catatonic response to that brief confrontation scared the bejesus out of him.

  I didn’t mean to frighten her—

  And that’s a damned lie, his conscience screamed.

  ‘It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,’ Luke murmured again.

  He didn’t know what to do with the sudden surge of jealous anger that gripped him. Nor could he explain the fierce emotion driving his antagonism. Much to his dismay, he was attracted to Brooke, and he resented the powerful pull. He had no desire to end up like another of her conquests: hanging from rafters in a barn.

  The distance in her dark eyes gradually faded, and as he watched them fill with awareness, he was very uneasy. Brooke edged away from him, wrapping her arms tightly about her midriff, the defensive gesture warning enough for him to back off. To his dismay, he discovered he didn’t have it in him.

  ‘Care to tell me what that was all about?’

  She gave him a stricken glance, spun away and, on decidedly jerky steps, walked to the window where she stood with her back to him, staring out across Whitby Downs’s sunburnt land. From across the room he could see she was trembling.

  Concerned but cautious, he asked, ‘Who hurt you, Brooke?’

  She stiffened and slowly turned to face him. With her chin lifted and her expression carefully blank, she looked directly at him. ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  He moved closer, his hand barely skimming her shoulder. She flinched and pulled away. ‘I don’t want or need your concern.’

  Luke winced. I guess I deserve that.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be concerned?’

  Her scorching look questioned his sanity.

  Luke may have felt more uncomfortable, but he couldn’t remember when. Brooke sliced through his BS with one blistering glance, but it was her reaction that set every latent cop instinct into overdrive.

  Why had he risked broaching the subject of her past?

  With a disquieting flash of insight, he knew that he’d done so because he needed to know, and using the children’s welfare was a flimsy excuse, at best.

  Needed? Where the hell had this come from?

  ‘My working with Rose and Otto does not give you any rights over me, Mr Calloway.’ Brooke’s dark eyes glittered. ‘So you can get that notion out of your head.’

  She turned on her heel and strode to the door.

  ‘Brooke, I’m sorry.’ He lifted a hand and let it fall. That she was right didn’t sit well with him. There would be time enough to find the answers to the questions screaming through his brain. ‘How will I know when Otto’s over-exerting himself?’

  She hesitated, a hand on the doorknob, before she slowly turned back to face him, the tense set of her shoulders visibly easing.

  One day, Brooke, Luke thought, you will tell me what elicited such an extreme reaction.

  ‘I told Otto to take it gently,’ she said in an even and unhurried tone, ‘and not overstrain himself. Once he starts using those atrophied muscles, they will strengthen very quickly and he’ll soon regain mobility.’

  ‘It can’t happen soon enough,’ Luke muttered, rubbing at his neck. Had he imagined that tension-laden exchange?

  Brooke nibbled on her lower lip as she glanced up at him, her hesitation obvious.

  ‘Is there something else?’ he asked, suddenly wary.

  ‘You need to ensure Otto and Rose have a balanced diet.’ Brooke paused, giving him an assessing look, before saying, ‘They
need to rebuild muscle mass, Rose especially. Good nutrition is equally as important as physical therapy.’

  Luke winced. Was she mentally reviewing the lunch he’d served earlier? It was plain and filling … and bachelor fare. It’s wasn’t as if he had Matt’s luck. He didn’t have anyone to cook their meals. Once again, Luke knew he was failing the children who depended on him for their emotional and physical wellbeing.

  ‘I’ve tried to find a housekeeper.’ He raked a hand through his hair, his voice filled with bitterness and frustration. ‘What woman wants to live out here in the sticks with no shopping malls, or all the other conveniences that females are convinced are necessary for human survival?’

  ‘That wasn’t a criticism, merely an observation.’

  ‘Hell, I know my cooking leaves a lot to be desired.’ He paused and then continued in a rush. ‘And I’m really worried about Rose. She’s lost far too much weight.’

  Brooke did not answer immediately, and he sensed that she was weighing her words.

  ‘When I was working with Rose this morning,’ she said, her tone soft and questioning, ‘it did occur to me that she may have an eating disorder.’

  ‘It’s more than occurred to me. I’ve watched her push food around her plate rather than eat it. She thinks I don’t notice.’

  ‘Do you want me to talk to her?’

  ‘I don’t think that will work.’ He punched a fist into his open palm. ‘In case it escaped your notice, Rose lit out of here like a scalded cat after lunch rather than stay here and talk with you.’

  Brooke winced and Luke wished he hadn’t been quite so blunt.

  ‘Maybe that was because I weighed her earlier at the clinic and asked her about her diet.’

  ‘Do you think I have real cause for concern?’

  Brooke nodded. ‘To massage and exercise her shoulder, I need to apply hot packs. Rose is beyond thin. She’s emaciated. She is definitely suffering from an eating disorder, or maybe …’

  Luke could have gone all day without hearing Brooke confirm his own tortured thoughts. Teenage girls, eating disorders … what the hell do I know about either?

  ‘Maybe what?’ Apprehension tied his gut in knots.

  ‘Is it possible that Rose may be vegan or vegetarian? If she is, her weight loss could be as simple as food choice.’