At Angela’s suggestion, Jess had decided to start outpatient therapy. After a thorough medical workup. Counseling—private and group—would begin to address her interpersonal problems, the substance abuse, and her eating issues. The team was also carefully evaluating Jess for the most effective prescription medicine to treat the chemical imbalance at the root of her mood disorder. It was all voluntary and too early to tell for sure, but so far things were going well. Even if, according to Jess, “Nobody’s going to let me wear my princess crown in this place. That’s been made more than obvious.”
Lauren smiled. She’d never been more proud of anyone than she was of Jess. It had been incredibly hard to admit to the Houston Grace administration that she’d taken the missing drugs. And a huge relief when the hospital decided to be lenient in light of her decision to pursue treatment. Nursing school was put on hold for now. Their parents were finally accepting all of that and slowly becoming less concerned with what other people thought. In fact, Mom seemed determined to educate herself about bipolar illness with the same zeal she had given to meteorology. Their parents’ enlightenment would go a long way toward encouraging Jess. Lauren was proud of them, too. But she hadn’t told them about Eli. There hadn’t seemed much point.
She stopped in the foyer, catching sight of the flying pig weather vane lying against the hall tree. It had been there since the day Eli arrived on her porch holding it in his hands. That day he kissed her. It had only been nine days since the storm, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d heard Eli was taking family leave to be at Drew’s side as much as possible while he was hospitalized. She’d communicated with him through a few short texts. It sounded like he was on better terms with his father. He was glad Jess was getting treatment. Lauren said she was happy to hear Drew’s condition had improved. Sporadic messages. Nothing too personal. They hadn’t actually talked since that stormy night when they’d both said such difficult things to each other. The truth—both sides of it—had driven a wedge between them. Which was why Lauren was a little nervous today. Since he’d texted that he was going to—
“Hey.”
“Eli.” Her heart sailed like a Barclay shingle.
He was dressed in a black polo shirt and faded Levi’s and looked far more handsome than Lauren even remembered. “Come in. The mess is cleaned up. No dog. Hannah’s living the good life at my folks’ rented high-rise condo. There’s a dog walker.”
Eli’s brows rose. “How’s that going?”
“Fine, actually.” She smiled despite the fact that her insides had begun to tremble. “She’s like a new dog. Mom thinks it had something to do with barometric pressure. Attitude adjustment in the eye of a tornado. I think it had everything to do with Emma and Shrek.” Unexpected tears rose. “I’m so very sorry about what happened. It’s my fault.”
Somehow he’d closed the distance between them. It only made her heart ache all the more.
“I don’t blame you for not trusting me,” she continued. “I waited far too long to do something about Jess’s problems. You were right. And so were Fletcher and Angela. I did everything wrong.”
“Lauren . . .”
“It’s true,” she insisted, her shakiness even worse now that he’d lightly grasped her elbow. “I kept saying I was leaving it all in God’s hands, trusting him to fix it. But I ignored all his whispers about what needed to be done. I grabbed on to his promise of hope as an excuse not to take any kind of action . . . to do nothing.”
“No. No one could ever accuse you of doing nothing.” His eyes held hers. “You love your sister. That’s huge, Lauren.”
“And I ‘helped’ her by lying for her, tiptoeing around her moods, monitoring her eating, going through her trash . . .” Lauren grimaced. “You said it yourself. Enabling only makes things worse. I knew that. I aced my nursing school psych exams—I’m a trained peer counselor, for goodness’ sake. But I couldn’t see it, didn’t want to see it. Not when it came to my sister.”
“But you did it, Lauren. You made her treatment happen. You stepped up.” He smiled at the surprise on her face. “Fletcher told me you called a breakfast meeting.”
Lauren rubbed a tear away. “I shouldn’t have let Jess drive Emma. I’ll never stop being thankful she’s okay.”
“Me neither.” Eli glanced toward the kitchen. “Let’s sit down.”
She followed him into the room, caught sight of the open pantry door. Her mother’s list. Run from Water. Hide from the Wind. It felt like they weren’t hiding anymore.
“Actually, I came over here to apologize too,” he told her as they settled into chairs. “I never should have said those things to you on the phone after Emma was found. There’s no excuse for that. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t even Jess’s. Emma ending up here . . .” He glanced toward the ceiling, and sunlight shone on his face through the holes in the roof. “It was my fault. I was furious with my father about that restraining order, and I took off without thinking. I knew there was a storm coming. I saw the sandbags. But I was halfway to Mimaw’s before I even remembered I had to pick Emma up from that party. I forgot my own daughter. And I wasn’t even going there out of concern for Drew. Not really. I was going there to stick it to my father, to best him. Show him how much of a man I was.”
Lauren had a strong sense that something had changed in Eli. Something big.
“Since that night, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” His lips tugged upward. “Frightening, right? But I know now that I waged the whole ugly battle with my father because I couldn’t deal with what happened to Drew last Christmas. I was protecting myself as much as I was protecting Drew—maybe more. You were right, Lauren. I gave up hope.” Eli’s smile was gone. “My brother dove into that sea trying to save me. He didn’t give up. I’m alive because Drew kept hope. I owe him at least that much. I think . . . God agrees.”
Lauren was afraid to breathe.
“Yes. God. We’ve been talking, he and I. That night at Mimaw’s and a lot since. At church this morning too—Emma’s pretty happy about that.” Eli sighed. “Apparently God wasn’t going to let me drown, either.”
She smiled at him, tears brimming. “I shouldn’t say I told you so.”
“That’s all right. As long as you say something else, too.” He traced his fingertips along her cheek. “Tell me I haven’t ruined things between us. Say you’re willing to still see me. I care about you, Lauren. I need you. You’re . . .”
“I’m your music? Is that what you were going to say?”
“It worked last time, right?”
“It did.”
“Well then . . .” Eli leaned close enough that she could feel the warmth of his skin. “You’ll give me another chance—is that a yes?”
“More than yes.” She slid her arms around his neck. “That’s an ‘Aye, captain.’”
They were both still laughing a little when their lips met. But the laughs didn’t last long. Because in a heartbeat Eli’s arms were around her too. And then he was kissing her throat, her cheek, her nose, before capturing her lips again. And again. Eli Landry, healer, pirate, father to her favorite little girl, wonderful hero, and—
“Excuse me, folks.”
They drew apart, inspected the ceiling. And saw the grinning roofer peering down at them.
“Sorry to interrupt. But I need to get these shingles off if I’m going to get your roof going.” His grin widened. “Personally, I understand your priority too. But we never know when these things will hit—hurricanes, tornadoes. You know what they say: ‘Get a kit. Make a plan. Be informed.’ I think a roof fits in there somewhere.”
“Good point,” Eli told him. “We agree. Let’s get this thing covered as soon as possible. But . . . maybe check those shingles on the north side for one more minute? Just one?”
“Gotcha.” The roofer winked. Boots thunked in the other direction.
“Where were we?” Eli murmured.
“Here, I think.” She kissed his lips lightly, then stretched he
r arms around him as he pulled her close in a hug. Warm, strong, like he’d never let her go. His lips brushed Lauren’s temple, and her heart thudded in her ears. Or maybe it was his heart; it was impossible to tell the difference.
“For the record, I only agreed with that guy so he’d give us a break,” Eli confessed. “I’m not really worried about the next storm.”
“Me neither,” she whispered back, nestling closer. “Not now.”
Or ever.
Whatever happened, Lauren knew where to find the truest shelter.
Thank you, Father, for always being there.
DECEMBER
“Your brother,” Darcee teased, lifting Drew’s earbud away from her tinsel-embellished red hair, “has been trying to make me a Christian music fan. Or save my soul—I suspect that’s his real plan. All those weeks I spent here at Mimaw’s, this guy made sure I had something to listen to. Drew Landry never quits.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Eli raised his voice over another round of carols—with a splash of washboard—starting up somewhere beyond the huge Christmas tree. “He can be pretty persuasive. Right, Bro?”
“Ye-eah.” Drew nodded. “Betcha.”
“Especially with my mother encouraging him.” Darcee winked. “That’s spiritual persuasion on steroids. Lucky me.”
Eli smiled. More than lucky . . .
He watched as Darcee shifted her weight onto her tripod cane and raised her hand to meet Drew’s enthusiastic knuckle bump. His brother’s wheelchair was strung with battery-operated twinkle lights and plastic holly. Eli would bet that Drew’s crooked grin could power Cyril’s entire string of emergency generators. He must have told everyone a dozen times that Darcee was coming back for the Mimaw’s Christmas party. The only thing that made him smile more was that he’d be spending Christmas in River Oaks. With his family and Florine in attendance. It would be the official start of his weekends at home.
Eli drew in a breath of air scented by pine garland, spiced cider, and Cajun meatballs, thinking a completely corny thought: right now, he and Drew could be a pair of poster kids for happiness because—
His chest warmed as Lauren arrived beside them with a plate of cookies.
“Here you go.” She held it out for Drew and Darcee. “Careful; the gingerbread boys are still pretty warm. Emma and Vee are in a baking frenzy. Dough, frosting, raisins, and peppermints piled up everywhere. Hannah’s not complaining; she’s had a couple of broken cookie legs tossed her way. Shrek has a new rawhide bone. They’re hoping this party never ends.” She laughed. “Whew, time for a break. I’ve been running like a reindeer.”
“Hey there, Prancer.” Eli tugged at the sleeve of Lauren’s candy-striped shirt, then slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her close. “Come here.”
Her face was flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, blue eyes lit with happiness. She’d tucked a sprig of mistletoe in her wavy mane of hair. Eli thought it was a great idea.
She smiled. “Cookie?”
“No. Just you.”
Lauren set the cookie plate on a chair, then returned to his side. “In case you didn’t notice—” she nodded toward the sound of carolers—“that’s your mother and Florine singing the duet. Jess has the kazoo. And on the washboard . . . that’s the judge.” She laughed at the look on Eli’s face. “Seriously. Your dad. I’ll bet you never thought it was possible.”
“No way.” Eli chuckled. He wouldn’t have believed that of his father. But a lot of things had changed. Including the Barclays’ reservations about him—perhaps the greatest when-pigs-fly miracle of all. It hadn’t been easy. But once they accepted that so much had been colored by Jessica’s illness, everything was different. It helped that Emma was a huge hit. And old Shrek was always a slobbering charmer. But in the end it was about what Lauren and Eli felt for each other; there was no denying it. In these past months, he had thought it wasn’t possible to love her more than he already did. Every day proved Eli wrong. Today especially.
“I talked with Gayle for a few minutes,” she told him. “She was calling from Alamo Grace. She thinks she’s going to like living in San Antonio. It feels like a new start. She thanked me again for organizing the drive to pay off her car loan. And she said to tell you again how much she appreciated your father’s help with the attorney. And your deposition explaining the thyroid condition.”
Eli nodded. The grand jury had dismissed the case after considering the combination of self-defense and the medical condition escalating Gayle’s response. Leo was still in jail; much of his time would be spent in therapy. Gayle hadn’t filed for divorce. Maybe hope was whispering to her, too. “I’m glad things are going better for Gayle.”
There was a chorus of oohs and aahs in the distance as Darcee’s parents arrived, their granddaughter toddling beside them in a glittery holiday dress and white tights. They’d been helping with child care while Darcee continued her physical therapy.
“There’s my mama cue.” Darcee ruffled Drew’s hair and limped forward, the cane helping with her still-healing leg. She met Emma coming their way, each greeting the other with a high five.
“I’m all finished baking,” Emma reported, climbing into Drew’s lap and twining an arm around his neck.
Eli’s heart tugged at his brother’s happy smile as his niece kissed his cheek. Lauren slid her arm through Eli’s, watching them too.
“It’s nice outside,” Emma reported, tipping her head in that coy way she’d learned for her critically acclaimed role as Annie. “Really nice. No clouds, no rain. Practically perfect.”
Drew nodded. “Yeah. Perrr . . . fect.”
“Uh . . .” Eli shot them a knowing look. “You haven’t been out there.”
“Cyril said,” Emma informed him.
“Yeah.” Drew’s lopsided smile reappeared. “Cyril. He knows.”
Lauren laughed around a bite of gingerbread. “What’s up with you two?”
“Conspiring,” Eli said, his pulse picking up speed. “To get rid of us, probably. Make us go outside so they can eat our cookies, maybe?”
“We’ll behave. Cross our hearts.” Emma did the Annie head tip again, subtle as a truck full of sandbags. “But maybe you two should go out for a walk. You know, hang out, talk about stuff?”
Drew nodded, cookie crumbs on his chin. “Talk and . . . stuff.”
Lauren laughed again. “I don’t care what they’re up to. I’m game—let’s go.”
“I . . .” Eli’s nervousness returned. Then Lauren secured the mistletoe in her hair. It was all he needed. “Sure. Let’s go for a walk.”
Drew and Emma beamed, did a thumbs-up duet.
He and Lauren had gotten as far as the door when Jessica found them.
“What’s up?” she asked, catching Lauren’s hand.
Eli thought once again how much better Jessica looked—more rested, softer. And healthier with the benefit of those few extra pounds. She smiled more. She was doing well on the trial meds, though she complained they made her feel spacey sometimes. But then that was Jessica; it wouldn’t be normal if she didn’t grouch now and then. On the plus side, she was able to go back to work part-time and had signed up for limited classes last fall—in psychology. She thought she might like to be a counselor someday. Maybe help troubled adolescent girls. Angela had made an impression, clearly. And Jessica had recently started coming to church with Eli and Lauren. Not every Sunday, but most. And not always inspired. But listening . . .
“No,” Lauren was telling her, “we’re not leaving yet. We thought we’d take a walk. We’ve been booted out by popular demand.” She laughed at the look on her sister’s face. “I’m kidding. We’re going to get some fresh air and then help the Viettes clean up after the party.” She tapped Jessica’s purse. “You’re taking off?”
“Have to. I wanted to say hi to Darcee, but I can’t stay longer. Fletcher’s picking me up at six. The Tacky Country Christmas Cotillion. I told you, remember? With a costume contest.”
Lauren grinn
ed. “Princess and astronaut.”
“Do you believe it?” Jessica rolled her eyes. “I could die. But Fletcher thought it would be funny, and I thought . . . why not.”
“When is he flying out to California?” Lauren asked, concern in her tone. Fletcher’s mother was having health problems.
“Tuesday. Charly’s scheduled for more testing at the end of the week. Fletcher wants to be there for her—and for his dad.” Jessica’s brows scrunched. “Mr. Holt’s pretty stressed.”
“I can imagine.” Lauren sighed, then found her smile again. “You’d better go get ready for the party, princess.”
There was a flurry of hugs and they parted ways, Jessica toward her car and Eli and Lauren down the gravel road.
“Tacky Country?” Eli asked, taking Lauren’s hand.
“Cotillion. It’s a charity benefit for the Make-A-Wish foundation.”
“Ah . . .” Eli smiled; he had a wish of his own. “Do you think Fletcher will ever tell your sister how he feels about her?”
“I think he’s taking things slowly. Jess has made a lot of changes—and so much progress. Fletcher would never pressure her. You know how patient he is. Fifteen years’ worth.” Lauren smiled. “Besides, flak jacket or not, it’s probably a little scary to risk putting your heart out there like that.”
Eli couldn’t agree more.
- + -
“Somehow,” Lauren laughed, scooting closer to him on the bench, “we always manage to end up in this chicken coop place.”
Life Support Page 30