Forever Grace

by Linda Poitevin

  Grace closed her eyes. Clenched her teeth. It wasn’t hard to picture her slim, quiet, owl-eyed nephew as his father’s verbal punching bag. She’d always known Barry had a temper. Hell, everyone knew Barry had a temper…

  But she hadn’t known about this.

  Hadn’t so much as suspected.

  “I found him sitting in the car in the garage this morning when I got up,” Julianne continued, her words almost inaudible. “With the keys in the ignition and the garage door closed. Just sitting there, staring out the windshield.”

  “Barry?”

  “Josh.”

  Bile rose in Grace’s chest, burning her throat. She felt behind her for the bed and sat down on its edge. “Are you serious? He’s only ten years old! How does he even know…?”

  “Television. Internet. He knows, Grace, and I may not find him next time.”

  Air shuddered into Grace’s lungs. She strove for calm. Tried to ignore the vibration trembling through her. She could only imagine how much worse Julianne felt. “All right. First things first. You need a place to stay. You have the key to my townhouse—”

  “Really?” Julianne’s voice wobbled. “You’d let us stay with you?”

  “Of course. That shouldn’t even be a question. I’ll call Sarah—she’s the neighbor across the street—and let her know you’ll be staying there. Let yourself in and make yourselves at home. If you don’t know where something is, feel free to toss the place until you find it.” Grace carried the cell phone into the hotel bathroom with her and pulled back the shower curtain on the tub. “I’ll head to the airport as soon as I’m dressed. I’ll catch the first flight out.”

  “God, no. Don’t do that. You have a client—a job—”

  “I have a sister,” Grace interrupted, “who is far more important.”

  Julianne sniffled some more at her end.

  “There’s one more thing, Jules. My friend Lucien Tremaine’s phone number is in my address book in the kitchen drawer. You met him at my Christmas party last year. He’s the best family lawyer out there—a veritable bulldog. Call him. Tell him you’re my sister, and tell him everything you’ve told me.”

  “It’s too early for lawyers. I haven’t even told Barry I’m leaving yet.”

  “That’s why you need to call Luc. You’re taking Barry’s kids, Jules. He won’t take this sitting down, and he’s got a lot more clout than you have when it comes to the system. You need someone to walk you through this. Someone on your side.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Julianne’s voice cracked.

  “That’s why you have me, sweetie. Now promise me: straight to my place, and call Luc.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good girl. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime, all right?”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Grace.”

  “And you’ll never have to find out, because I’m there for you. Together always, remember?”

  A childhood pact made under the covers when their parents had died and they’d begun the endless shuffle from relative to relative, only just avoiding being thrown into the system.

  “Together always,” Julianne whispered back, and Grace’s lips curved in response to the smile in her sister’s voice.

  In the dark of the bedroom, Grace wiped away the tears cooling her cheeks. She listened to the gentle breathing of her niece, letting the stillness seep into her. She and Julianne had managed to uphold their pact, and regardless of what happened to her sister now, Grace would move heaven and earth to make sure Julianne’s kids had the same opportunity.

  “Together always,” she whispered to her sister.

  Then she turned onto her side and closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER 7

  ………………

  SEAN’S HANDS CAME DOWN ON Grace’s shoulders, tugging her inexorably closer. Her heart thudded wildly, threatening to break out of her chest altogether. She knew she should object, knew she should pull away, but his bottle-green gaze had turned so intense. It seared into hers, holding her captive. His hands slid down her arms, spanned her waist, drove the last remaining oxygen from her lungs. His head descended. Desire licked through her veins. Need hollowed her belly.

  “Oh, Grace,” he whispered, burying his face in her hair, wrapping her against him.

  A hand cupped the soft flesh of her breast, thumb circling the nipple, teasing, tormenting. Grace closed her eyes and arched against him.

  “More,” she gasped. “Please…more.”

  “Baa,” Sean replied.

  Grace’s eyes shot open. Baa?

  She stared up at the shadowed ceiling, struggling to regain her bearings and calm her breathing. Reality slowly filtered in. She was in bed. Alone. Her skin tingled with remembered sensation, but it wasn’t real. She’d dreamed it. Dreamed it all.

  She sat bolt upright, sweat-soaked sheets falling away from her. Dear God, she’d dreamed about Sean McKittrick? Heat flooded her—part mortification, part something she didn’t want to think about.

  And what the hell was baa?

  “Mooo!” came a deep male voice from the other side of the wall behind her head. Grace froze. Her gaze darted to the portable crib in the corner of the room, then to the door standing partially ajar. Her heart dropped into her belly. Annabelle.

  She scrambled from the bed, tripping over the covers wrapped around her feet and narrowly avoiding a flat-on-her-face fall. How on earth had the child gotten out of the crib? She’d never—

  Utter horror stopped Grace dead in her tracks. Wait. Sean hadn’t—he wouldn’t—oh, Lord, please don’t tell her he’d come in to get Annabelle and seen her all tangled up in the covers and dreaming of—

  Her last functioning brain cell snorted at her. Really, Grace? A man who can barely stand up on crutches, coming into the room and lifting a wriggly two-year-old out of her crib without you hearing a thing? Really?

  She put her hands to her overheated face and stood swaying in the middle of the floor, willing her lungs to draw air. Her pulse slowed. Reason returned. Mortification subsided.

  It didn’t quite disappear altogether, but it was enough.

  She opened the door and tiptoed down the still-dark hallway toward the glow of lamplight and the first pale streaks of dawn. Reaching the living room, she found her niece comfortably tucked into the crook of Sean’s arm, intent on the book he held. Annabelle removed the pacifier from her mouth with one hand and pointed to a page with the other, looking up at Sean. He’d put his shirt back on but only half buttoned it. From where Grace stood, the deep vee opening allowed a rather tantalizing glimpse of crisp, curling, sandy-colored hair and the muscles that had featured so prominently in…

  She swallowed on a suddenly parched throat.

  “Whassat?” Annabelle asked Sean.

  “That’s a dog,” he responded. “Woof, woof!”

  “Oof! Oof!” Annabelle repeated. “Whassat?”

  “A goldfish. I don’t think he makes any noise, though.”

  “Fiss!” Annabelle pursed her lips and made a little popping sound as she imitated the gaping mouth of a fish.

  “I see.” Sean chuckled. “I stand corrected.”

  As if suddenly aware of Grace’s presence, he looked over his shoulder. “Ah. Good morning.”

  It took all of Grace’s willpower not to put a hand up to smooth her uncombed hair. “And an early one, at that.”

  He grinned. “I can’t say you didn’t warn me.”

  “Mamaaa!” Annabelle squealed. She scrambled down from the couch and ran—as only sturdy two-year-olds can run—over to Grace to be picked up.

  Grace swung her into her arms, and the little girl removed Sussie long enough to give her a wet kiss on the cheek. Pulling back after returning the favor, albeit a little less damply, Grace put on a mock stern face.

  “And just what,” she asked, “is Sussie doing out of bed?”

  Annabelle giggled. “Sussie story.”

  “Sussie wanted a story, did it?”r />
  “Man owie,” Annabelle added, pointing to Sean. She struggled to get down. Grace set her on the floor and watched her run back to the couch.

  “Owie,” she said again, patting Sean’s cast. “Kiss better.”

  Grace scooped her up after the tenth wet lip-print marked the white surface covering Sean’s knee. “That’s quite enough, Miss Annabelle. If you make that thing any soggier, it will fall apart. Now it’s time for Sussie” —she tapped the pacifier clutched in her niece’s chubby little hand— “to go night-night, all right? Can you put him to bed all by yourself?”

  Annabelle regarded her pacifier, and then to Grace’s relief, she nodded agreement. Dealing with the Sussie issue had been hit-and-miss since their arrival at the cottage, with misses resulting in meltdowns that had likely sent wildlife into hiding for miles around. It wasn’t Grace’s preferred way of starting the day.

  Annabelle gave a forlorn sigh. “Sussie night-night. Annbell down?”

  Grace set her down for a second time, and she thundered down the hallway. Grace winced. Perhaps she should have added a caution about noise…not that it would have had much effect on the ebullient toddler. Oh, well. The others would have woken up eventually, right? Scraping back her hair and stifling a yawn, she looked down to find Sean watching her, hands locked behind his head. The opening of his shirt gaped wider, affording her a better view of what had warmed her cheeks earlier. Damn, but the man was in good shape.

  Suddenly and acutely aware of her own state of undress, particularly with regard to certain body parts that felt more unfettered than usual, she crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat. “Sorry about the early morning company. That’s the first time she’s managed to escape on her own.”

  “No worries. She’s a cute kid. Very helpful, too.” He indicated the pile of books beside him. “I think she emptied half the bookcase.”

  “I can see that. And I suspect my mornings just got a whole lot more interesting now that she’s figured out the Houdini act.” Grace sighed, then switched subjects. “How’s your leg this morning? Did you sleep at all?”

  “I dozed.” He shrugged, and hard, smooth muscles shifted beneath fabric. “And it hurts like blazes, but no worse than yesterday.”

  She tore her gaze from his chest for a third time. “That’s good news. And somewhat surprising, after the way you abused the poor thing yesterday. When did you break it, by the way? The cast looks new.”

  Or at least, most of it did. The foot portion was a little on the disheveled side after their trek through the woods.

  “Three weeks ago,” Sean replied. “But the cast is only two days old.”

  “Let me guess.” Her voice turned dry. “You ruined the first four or five doing back flips and somersaults.”

  Green eyes crinkled at the corners. “Not quite. I needed surgery, and then we had to wait for the incision to heal.”

  “Ouch. That must have been one nasty break. How did you—” Grace broke off, remembering of the rules she’d set the night before, even as a shutter descended over his expression, stirring deeper curiosity. No questions, no answers, and no contact after today. She forced a smile and another topic change. “Sorry. Forget I asked. Coffee?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble. And my crutches, if you wouldn’t mind. Annabelle moved them for me.”

  Grace followed the jut of his chin to where his crutches lay on the floor by the kitchen table. She carried them back to Sean.

  “So, I take it the three older ones belong to your sister, and Annabelle is yours?” He positioned the crutches on either side of himself and scooted forward on the cushions until he sat on the couch’s edge.

  “Her calling me mama, you mean?” Grace swallowed against the sudden ache in her throat. “I haven’t been able to convince her otherwise, unfortunately.”

  “Ah. Well, I’m sure that will change once her mother’s back in action.”

  The careless words ripped through her with their unexpectedness. She struggled for air, reminding herself he didn’t know—couldn’t know. It made no difference to the pain. No difference to the stark images that reared up in her mind. Her sister in a hospital bed, unresponsive, unaware, surrounded by machines and wires and tubes.

  “Grace?” Sean’s voice reached out to her, warm with concern.

  Respond, a voice deep in her brain urged. Say something.

  Her throat worked, but no sound emerged.

  Sean struggled to rise from the couch, his gaze becoming alarmed. “Grace—”

  She turned and fled.

  CHAPTER 8

  ………………

  What the hell?

  Sean stared after Grace for a full thirty seconds before he thought to lever himself up from the couch, tucking a crutch under each arm. Then he stood, staring some more. Did he go after her as instinct urged? Stay out of it as she had suggested last night?

  She’d made it clear, more than once, that she didn’t want to talk. Wouldn’t talk.

  But her behavior just now made it equally clear she had a great deal to talk about. Hell, he’d never seen anyone turn that white that fast and still manage to remain on her feet. No, something was definitely going on with her. The question was, did he push, or leave her alone?

  With a sigh, Sean gritted his teeth against the pain of being upright—damn, he wished he had his painkillers with him—and swung into action. He made his way down the hallway. The first door on the right stood partly ajar, and he tapped gently before nudging it open with the tip of his crutch. Grace stood with her back to him, Annabelle stretched out on a dresser top before her. The toddler grinned at him, waving a stuffed giraffe.

  “Man owie!”

  Grace’s shoulders went stiff. She didn’t turn. “Did you need something?”

  Her voice wobbled, and Annabelle patted her arm. “Mama cry.”

  He’d figured as much. Sean cleared his throat. “I just wanted to check on you. You seemed—”

  “I’m fine,” she interrupted. “I’m just changing Annabelle, and then I’ll be out to make coffee. We’ll get you back to your cottage as soon as it’s light enough.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Hell, he didn’t quite know how he had upset her, though at a guess, he’d say it had something to do with her sister.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Grace —”

  “I’m fine, Mr. McKittrick.” A sniffle undermined her declaration, but she fired a fierce, tear-bright glower over her shoulder that warned him in no uncertain terms to back off. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Tight-lipped, Sean withdrew from the room, closing the door awkwardly behind him. He turned to find Josh standing in the gap of another half-open door.

  “Is Aunt Grace all right?” the boy asked.

  “She’s fine,” Sean said, knowing Grace would have his head if he suggested otherwise. “She’s just changing Annabelle.”

  Josh hesitated, then nodded an acceptance not reflected in his solemn gaze. Sean started to scowl, but swiftly wiped his brow clear when the boy took a step back. Damn it to hell, but the kid was jumpy. Josh’s gaze slid past him to Grace’s bedroom door.

  Jumpy and smart. He knew full well something was up with his aunt. And Sean knew full well the boy would be in that room like a shot as soon as the way was clear. He needed to stall him, to give Grace room to recover.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said gruffly.

  Josh’s gaze flew back to his.

  “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when I found you on my deck yesterday.”

  “I was trespassing.”

  Sean’s mouth quirked. “Technically, yes. But you weren’t hurting anything, and I didn’t need to be that harsh. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too, sir. For making you fall.”

  Sir? Who the hell taught their kids to say that anymore? Sean coughed to cover his surprise. “You didn’t make me fall. I made me fall.” He waved one of the crutches aloft. “Truth is, I’m a to
tal klutz on these things. Ask your aunt. If she hadn’t caught me at least twice along that path last night, I would have been sleeping in the shrubbery.”

  A tiny smile pulled at Josh’s mouth.

  Sean returned the gesture, then balancing carefully, he held out a hand. “Friends?”

  Josh’s smile disappeared. He withdrew into the bedroom behind him. “I should get dressed,” he said. “Aunt Grace needs my help.”

  Just like that, Sean found himself staring again, this time at the painted panel of a closed door. What was it with this family? He scowled. Grace’s reticence, Josh’s jumpiness and the distinct alarm in his eyes just now…everything about them was off. Not a lot off, just a little. Just enough to make him curious.

  ………………

  Grace leaned her forehead against the door, listening to the sound of Sean’s crutches retreating down the hallway, wrestling with the urge to drag out the suitcases and begin pitching their belongings into them. Breathe, Grace, she told herself. Think this through.

  That they’d aroused Sean’s curiosity, she had no doubt, especially after that exchange with Josh and her own flight from the living room. It still didn’t mean she needed to go off the deep end reaction-wise. Sean was just a neighbor. A guy who happened to live in the cottage next door. That didn’t mean he had any connection to Barry, and it sure as hell didn’t mean she had to uproot the kids again.

  Besides, where would they even go? She didn’t have unlimited funds, and the more they moved around, the more they exposed themselves. Their weekly trips into Perth for groceries were nerve-wracking enough, even though she followed the careful instructions given to her by Paul Kingsley, Luc’s private investigator: never go on the same day of the week, never go at the same time of day, never go to the same stores, and never get drawn into conversation. Err on the side of caution.