Forever Grace

by Linda Poitevin

  She made herself inhale. Exhale. Swallow. Caution, Grace, not paranoia.

  It was a fine line between them these days.

  Annabelle tugged at her pajama leg. “Raff,” she said, holding up the stuffed giraffe.

  Grace dredged up a smile. “It’s a beautiful giraffe,” she agreed.

  No, she wouldn’t panic.

  “Raff owie.”

  She’d stay calm…

  “Raff owie.”

  …get Sean back to his own cottage…

  “Raff owie, mama. Raff owie!”

  …and then they’d all go back to life as usual, because…

  “Raff owie, raff owie, raff owie!” Annabelle wailed, wrenching Grace’s thoughts back to the immediate.

  She crouched beside the little girl to calm her, but too late. The toddler evaded her and flopped onto the floor with a screech that all but shattered Grace’s skull. She regarded her niece wearily. Great. This was just what she needed.

  A tap sounded at the door, and she reached up to twist the handle. Josh stood outside, dressed and looking remarkably awake, given the hour.

  “Want some help?” he asked.

  Grace debated the offer. Normally she’d just plop Annabelle into the crib and wait out the tantrum, but even that seemed too much work this morning. She waved her nephew in.

  Josh sat down on the floor beside his little sister and stroked her hair. “Hey, Annabelly,” he said over her commotion. “What’s the matter?”

  Ah, the magic touch of an adored big brother. Grace watched in bemusement as Annabelle stopped mid-shriek and sat up, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

  She held her toy out to Josh, telling him, in between hiccups, “Raff—owie—’eg.”

  “Giraffe has an owie on his leg?”

  Breathing in great sobs, Annabelle nodded. “Raff owie ‘eg.”

  Josh looked over at Grace. “I think she wants it to have a cast on its leg. Like Mr. McKittrick. Can I use a Band-aid from the first-aid kit?”

  If it would bring peace back to the house? Grace nodded. “Please,” she said. “Be my guest.”

  Josh popped back to his feet with the nimbleness of youth and held a hand out to his sister. “Come on, Annabelly. Let’s go fix Mr. Giraffe.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Grace called after them. “As soon as I’m dressed.”

  The door closed behind the pair. Despite her words, she remained where she was, still crouched, for a long minute. They’d all been keeping it together so well, learning to function as a family, ignoring the specters hovering over them: the very real possibilities that Julianne would die and that Barry would find them. Grace grimaced.

  Sean’s presence, however, clearly illustrated they hadn’t been keeping it together well at all. Josh’s reaction to him. Her own knee-jerk paranoia. And worse, the growing, hardening lump in the center of her chest every time Sean asked a question and she held back, too afraid to answer because she knew—with absolute certainty—that she would begin to unravel if she did.

  With a groan, Grace pushed to her feet. Just a little while longer, she told herself. As soon as it was light enough, they’d get Sean back into his own cottage and out of their lives, and then she’d call Luc. Find out how Julianne was doing, tell him about his neighbor’s appearance, and dispel her last, lingering doubts about said neighbor.

  But first…

  She reached for the jeans she’d discarded on the floor by the bed the night before, then took a clean, long-sleeved t-shirt from the dresser. She pulled it over her head and lifted her hair free. Then she tightened her jaw, swallowed hard, and wiped away another stealthy tear.

  First, she needed to get Sean to stop asking those damned, well-meaning questions. And the only way she could do that was to give him just enough in the way of answers.

  CHAPTER 9

  ………………

  SEAN LOOKED UP FROM POURING coffee into two mugs as Grace entered the kitchen. She wore jeans again today, and a blue long-sleeved t-shirt that hugged a little more closely than the yellow one of the day before. He held up the coffee pot.

  “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Her step faltered, and she jammed her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. Then she shook her head. “Of course not. But do you think you should be doing so much?”

  Balancing on his crutches, he twisted to set the pot back on its pad. “I’m supposed to be fending for myself altogether, remember?”

  “And you really think you can do that?” she asked as he teetered.

  “It’s all a matter of practice.” He righted himself with a grin. “Now, how do you take your coffee?”

  “Just black, thanks.”

  He slid a cup across the counter and watched her perch on a stool, head bent and face hidden from him. He sighed. “Look, Grace, I’m not trying to be nosy, but—”

  “She’s in a coma,” she said softly.

  Sean stared at the dark, bowed head, not sure he’d heard right. “I beg your pardon?”

  “My sister. The kids’ mother.” Grace looked up to meet his gaze, her deep chocolate eyes raw with grief. “She’s in a coma.”

  “Jesus,” he breathed. He set his crutches against the counter and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the chipped laminate surface. A glance toward the hallway assured him none of the kids were there. He pitched his voice low anyway. “Grace, I had no idea. I’m sorry. How long?”

  “A little over a month.”

  “Will she—do they—” He didn’t know how to continue. How the hell did one phrase a question like that?

  “They don’t know. There’s minimal brain activity, but they say as long there’s any at all, there’s hope.”

  “Do the kids know?”

  She pressed her lips together. Nodded.

  “So that’s why you’re hiding out here.”

  She flinched, her eyes widening. “H-hiding?”

  “For the kids’ sake. I don’t imagine they’re up to facing school and friends right now.”

  A quick recalibration took place behind her expression—so subtle, he almost missed it. So fast, he didn’t have time to react before she shook her head.

  “No. No, you’re right. They’re not. We don’t talk about it. I think we’re afraid if we do…” She trailed off and looked away, blinking back a sheen of tears.

  Sean reached out to cover her forearm with his hand, pressing gently. “Hey,” he said. “Positive thoughts.”

  Grace sniffled. He nudged her coffee mug closer to her.

  “Drink,” he said. “You’ll feel better. Or at least more awake.”

  She picked up the mug and rewarded him with a watery smile. A little thrill of triumph ran through him. He smiled back, resisting with every fiber of his being the sudden urge to sweep back that dark curtain of hair. Whoa there, McKittrick. Down, boy. He cleared his throat.

  “So, tell me—what can I do to help?”

  Grace’s smile vanished. “What?”

  To be honest, the question had surprised him as much as it had her, but he pushed away his misgivings. It was the human thing to do, after all. Nothing more, nothing less. He shrugged.

  “I mean it. What can I do to help? I know I’m a little laid up at the moment, but there must be something. Color pictures with Sage, entertain Annabelle, read stories.” He gave her his most disarming grin. “I happen to have it on good authority that I do a superior baaa.”

  Grace turned bright red and choked on the coffee. Sean tried to pat her on the back and nearly fell over in the effort, and Grace ended up lunging forward to grab a fistful of his shirt to steady him.

  “Please don’t fall again,” she said. “I don’t think either my nerves or your cast can take it.”

  “Not to mention the damned leg in the cast.”

  Balance restored, Sean clenched his jaw against the wave of pain following the unexpected movement. He closed his eyes and let his head hang between the outstretched arms clinging to the counter. “Freak
ing hell, that hurts.”

  “Are you all right?”

  He let out a hiss of air. “I will be. Just give me a sec.”

  He hadn’t taken any of Grace’s codeine tablets this morning, anticipating a return to his own heavier-duty and much-needed medication. Now he questioned the wisdom of that decision, especially in the face of the trek he still had to make back to his own cottage. He shuddered at the thought. Oh, yeah. Codeine was definitely in order before he did that. At least it would take off some of the edge. Not much, but some.

  He finally unglued his eyelids to find Grace regarding him ruefully.

  “I think that answers your question about helping, don’t you?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  Grace glanced over her shoulder, then back at him. “Bull,” she said. “I appreciate the offer, Sean, but you’re in no shape to be helping anyone right now. You need to be off that leg and looking after yourself.”

  She’d called him Sean.

  He was still absorbing that—and trying to wipe a second silly grin off his face—when Josh and Annabelle came down the hallway. Annabelle spotted Sean and broke into a trot, making a beeline for him.

  “Raff owie,” she announced, holding a stuffed toy aloft.

  Sean looked to Grace for translation.

  “Her giraffe is hurt,” Grace said. “She wants you to look at it.”

  Sean accepted the animal and chuckled. One entire foreleg was covered in adhesive bandages sporting Spiderman in varying poses. He glanced at Josh. “Your handiwork?”

  Josh ignored him, looking sideways at Grace. “She kept saying big owie,” he said. “It took six bandages before she was happy.”

  “A small price to pay for peace,” Grace assured her nephew, tugging him in to drop a kiss on his head. “Especially this early in the morning. Thanks for looking after her for me.”

  “Raff owie,” Annabelle said again.

  Sean handed the bandaged critter back to her. “Giraffe has a very nice owie,” he agreed. “Josh did a good job.”

  “Man owie.” Annabelle patted his cast, then pushed aside the pant leg flapping along its length. Blue eyes gazed up sadly. “Man owie. No spyman.”

  “She’s sad because you don’t have—”

  “Spiderman,” Sean finished. “Yes, I got that.”

  “Josh can draw one on your cast for you,” a new voice offered. “He’s really good at it.”

  Lillian, the pigtailed girl from the night before, climbed up on the stool beside Grace. Her other sister—Sage, he remembered—hid behind her, peering at him with those great, dark-fringed eyes. They both wore expectant expressions. Josh, on the other hand, retreated to a position behind his aunt, who stepped in smoothly to cover his obvious discomfort at the suggestion—and to rescue Sean from having to find a polite way of declining the offer.

  “Maybe another time, Lilly,” she said. “Right now, Mr. McKittrick needs to sit down and put his leg up while Josh and I try to get his cottage unlocked for him.”

  Saved by a breakin operation. Sean reached for his crutches.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Grace snorted. “And what, watch? In your bare feet?”

  Damn. He’d forgotten about the barefoot thing.

  “Besides, I need Josh’s help and I can’t leave the girls alone,” she pointed out, “So you’ll be far more help if you stay here to watch them for me.”

  She downed the rest of her coffee in one long swallow, set down the cup, and added dryly, “That way I know you’re all safe.”

  “Funny,” Sean muttered.

  “Truth.” She slid off the stool and nudged Josh. “How about it, kiddo? Feel like crawling through a window for me?”

  Sean followed them to the mudroom, hampered by the unforgiving throb in his leg—and by Annabelle’s insistence on clinging to one of his fingers as he gripped the crutches. Grace shot him a sympathetic look as she slipped into her jacket.

  “We’ll be as quick as we can,” she said. “I’ll bring back your pain meds for you, and then we’ll get you home where it’s quiet.”

  He nodded. He had no more argument left in him. “That would be nice.”

  She tugged open the door, and she and Josh stepped outside into the early morning light.

  “Side window,” Sean called after them. “The small one. It opens onto the bathroom.”

  Grace responded with a wave of one hand. Then Lilliane closed the door and the gazes of all three girls turned to him.

  Annabelle produced a second small stuffed creature from the pouch on the front of her pajamas. She held it up hopefully. “Bunny owie?” she asked.

  CHAPTER 10

  ………………

  “AUNT GRACE?” JOSH’S VOICE CAME from behind her as they trudged along the path to Sean’s cottage. “Do we have to move again?”

  Grace stopped walking. She took a deep breath and turned to her nephew. Meeting his worried gaze, she wrestled with the desire to protect him from more worry—and the knowledge that she couldn’t. With all Josh had been through, all he’d known, he’d see through false reassurances in a heartbeat. She couldn’t afford to have him question her honesty. But she could—and did—weigh her words with care.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I hope not, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen, but I can’t promise anything, Josh. You know that.”

  His wire-framed gaze slid away from hers, dropping to the path between them. Grace reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

  “As soon as we get Mr. McKittrick back into his cottage, I’ll call Luc. He’ll know what we should do.”

  “Will you tell me what he says?”

  “Of course. No more secrets, remember?”

  It had been their special pact, hers and Josh’s, when Juli brought the kids to live with her. She’d seen how damaged Josh was, then, and how much he needed to talk. As much as she’d needed to hear what had been kept hidden from her. No secrets. Not if she’d wanted to help her sister.

  And even that hadn’t been enough.

  Her nephew nodded. He lurched forward and slid his arms around her in a fierce embrace, his face buried against her shoulder. Grace hugged back, equally fierce, and swallowed against the lump lodged in her throat—a tangle of grief, worry, responsibility, and overwhelming love. Josh stepped back.

  “I’m good now,” he said, blinking too fast.

  Without comment, Grace dropped a kiss on his forehead and then turned back to the path.

  Getting Josh into Sean’s cottage turned out to be remarkably easy. The bathroom window consisted of double-paned vinyl sliders, loose enough in their tracks to be pushed up with the flats of Grace’s hands and then wiggled free. Josh was light enough for her to boost, and in short order, he had his head and shoulders through the opening. The toughest moment came when the rest of him disappeared with an ominous, hollow thud.

  “Josh? Josh, are you all right?”

  No answer.

  Grace stretched up on tiptoe, clinging to the windowsill and straining to peer inside. “Josh!”

  “I’m okay,” came a muffled response. “I just fell into the tub.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. No. I’m fine.”

  Relief made her arms shaky. She released the ledge and settled back on her heels again. “All right. Good. Now go open the door for me, and then we’ll get Mr. McKittrick.”

  She replaced the windows in their tracks, and then went around to meet Josh at the door. He sported a large, purpling goose egg on his forehead. Grace swept his hair back to examine it, wincing.

  “Ouch. That has to hurt.”

  Her nephew shrugged. “Not too much.”

  “Still. Put some ice on it when we get home, all right?” Grace stepped into the cottage and found what she was looking for just inside the door. She scooped up the single, untied running shoe, then hesitated. Should she get a sock, too? He’d be more comfortable…

 
She shook her head at the idea of going into his room and through his personal things. Not a chance. He’d endured an entirely shoeless journey last night; he’d survive a sockless one today. His pain meds, however, were another story.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” she told Josh, who waited on the deck, rubbing his forehead.

  As she’d suspected she would, she found a pill bottle sitting in the open on the kitchen counter. With no kids in the house, Sean had no reason to hide it. She returned to the door, checked to be sure it remained unlocked, and as a last thought, took the key from the hook above the light switch. She needed Sean McKittrick out of their cottage and into his own, and she was taking no chances on any more delays.

  ………………

  “Success!” Grace called out as she and Josh stepped back into their cottage. She slipped off her shoes and headed for the giggles she could hear in the living room. “You can finally go home and get that rest you came for, Mr. McKitt—”

  She stopped short, surveying the room in dismay mixed with a tinge of horror, taking in the collection of stuffed animals scattered across the floor and piled around Sean on the couch. Lilliane and Sage followed her gaze and exchanged looks. Their smiles faded. The mound of toys beside Sean shifted as Annabelle wriggled out from under them. There were so many, Grace hadn’t even seen her niece in their midst.

  So many, in fact, that it looked as if every stuffie the girls collectively possessed was there. And that was a lot of stuffies.

  Seventy-two of them, to be exact. Of every size and type imaginable. Grace knew, because she’d counted them when she’d packed the entire lot for transport to the cottage, not having had the heart to deprive her nieces of that small comfort in the midst of the chaos they’d faced.

  “Bunny owie.”

  Annabelle joined her, holding up a yellow rabbit in one hand. Grace took it from her. A neat cast of masking tape covered one of the hind legs.

  “Fwog owie.”

  The toddler pressed a smiling green frog into Grace’s other hand. It, too, wore a cast.

  Grace’s gaze went back to the living room disaster area. Little bits of masking tape decorated the coffee and end tables. She looked at the animals piled around Sean. Then at him.