Forever Grace
Page 18
“Again?” Gareth drawled. “This sounds interesting.”
“Mommy, Uncle Sean said a bad word!” Maggie piped up, her eyes round.
Grace giggled into Sean’s wet shoulder, and he felt his heart lighten. He tucked the tissue into her hand and stuck his tongue out at his step-niece.
“Traitor,” he told the little girl, adding a wink.
“And he stuck out his tongue!” Nicholas added indignantly.
“I’m sure Uncle Sean is sorry,” Gwyn said. “Go back to your blocks.”
“But—”
“Blocks,” she repeated, and argument ceased. She patted Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll put on some tea, and you can join us for lunch. It will give you a chance to get your bearings again.”
Sean felt Grace’s concerted effort to pull herself together. She lifted her head, blew her nose, and summoned a watery smile.
“Thank you,” she said, “but I can’t. I have to get back to the others. They’ll be worried.”
“There are more?”
“Three,” Sean said.
His cousin stared at him. “Three more children.”
“My other nieces and my nephew,” Grace volunteered, still sniffling. She stepped back, leaving a chill along Sean’s body in her wake except for where one hand remained on his arm to steady him. “I’m looking after them while my sister is in hospital.”
“I see. And Sean is…helping?” Gareth’s voice remained neutral, but his expression could only be described as sardonic. Sean scowled at him, knowing full well this was payback. Gareth took every opportunity he could to remind him how wrong he’d been about Gwyn. No doubt he saw this as another chance to rub it in…especially if he imagined something going on between Sean and Grace.
“He’s been a tremendous help, yes.” Grace wadded up the used tissue. Her gaze flicked to Sean’s famous cousin, hovered, turned uncertain. She gave a small shake of her head, as if denying whatever thought had formed.
“He’s been giving me cooking lessons,” she added. “Without him, I think the kids would have mutinied.”
She glanced up at Sean, her chocolate eyes and the increased pressure of her hand on his arm signaling her intent to let go. He recalculated his balance, then accepted the crutches she reached for.
“How very kind of him,” Gareth said. This time, there was no mistaking the underlying sarcasm.
Grace shot Sean an uncertain look. Sean shot his cousin a glower. Gwyn poked her husband in the shoulder.
“Behave,” she told him. Then, without flinching, she reached out to pluck the soggy tissues from Grace’s fingers and replace them with fresh ones. “The kids can come for lunch, too. Can we send Gareth to get them, or will having a strange man turn up on the doorstep freak them out? Maybe Katie could go with him for reassurance.”
Grace used the new tissue to blow her nose a second time. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’m fine, and you came to visit with Sean, not to get involved in a drama. I’ll get Annabelle out of your hair and—”
“Nonsense,” Gwyn said. “We brought enough to feed a small army, and our crew will be delighted to meet new friends. How old are yours?”
“Josh is ten, Lilliane is eight, and Sage is five. And the little escape artist there”—Grace nodded toward Annabelle—“is two. But really—”
“Perfect. And we insist. Right, Gareth?”
“Oh, we do,” Gareth agreed, directing his words to Grace but a sideways glance at Sean. “In fact, we would like nothing more than to get to know you and your kids.”
Sean swallowed a groan. He knew that look from his cousin. The raised eyebrow, that glint in his eye. Both said Sean was in for some serious harassment later on. He would have to correct Gareth’s misinterpretation of Grace’s presence in his life…soon.
Gareth, however, had already turned his attention elsewhere. “Katie, would you like to come with me to fetch Ms.—” He stopped. “Hold on. Here we are dragging you and your kids along for lunch, and we haven’t even been properly introduced. Sean?”
Sean glanced at Grace. Would she want her name shared, or—? Grace gave the slightest of nods, indicating agreement—and trust. A small core of warmth formed in Sean’s chest. Gareth cleared his throat, and Sean wrenched his attention back to the present.
“Of course. Grace, this is my cousin Gareth Connor and his wife Gwyn. Gareth and Gwyn, my neighbor Grace Daniels.”
“Delighted to meet you, Grace Daniels.” Gareth held out his hand.
Beside him, Grace’s breath hitched a little as she accepted the handshake. She glanced at Sean uncertainly. “Gareth…?”
“Yes,” Gwyn answered the unfinished question, her voice wry. “He’s that Gareth Connor, but we try not to let it go to his head.”
“She makes me clean toilets to keep me humble.” Gareth wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and tugged her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
Sean chuckled. “Still haven’t won the housekeeper argument, huh?”
“I’ve been allowed a once-a-month service,” Gareth said. “It’s a start.”
A small body pushed past Sean to the center of their group.
“I’m Nicholas,” Gwyn’s son announced, planting himself in front of Grace. He pointed at his siblings. “And that’s my big sister Katie, and that’s Maggie. She’s my twin. But we’re not identical twins. A boy and a girl can’t be identical, because a boy has a —”
“That will do, thank you, Nicholas,” Gareth interrupted. “I’m pretty sure Ms. Daniels is familiar with the male anatomy.”
Nicholas frowned. “The what?”
“How little boys are built.”
“Oh. Can I come with you and Katie to get Grace’s kids?”
“That’s Ms. Daniels to you, Nicholas,” Gwyn said.
“Grace is fine with me,” Grace offered. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”
“Or I could call her Auntie Grace,” Nicholas said. “Because that’s what she’ll be when she marries Uncle Sean, right?”
“M-marr—” Grace stuttered, turning red.
Sean inserted himself into the conversation. “Grace and I are just friends, Nicholas. We’re not getting married.”
“Why not? She’s pretty. And nice. And you look at her all lovey-dovey like Gareth does with Mommy.”
Grace made a strangled noise beside Sean. Her blush turned neon.
Looking very much like he might explode with pent-up laughter, Gareth set a hand atop Nicholas’s blond head, turned him firmly around, and said, “That’s quite enough, Nicholas.”
“What’d I do?” the boy asked in genuine perplexity. “Katie told me—”
“Enough,” Gareth repeated. “Katie told you quite enough, and now she and I are going to go and get Grace’s kids. I’d like you to stay and help entertain Annabelle. Can you do that for me?”
“But I—”
“Nicholas.”
Nicholas shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and heaved a sigh. “Oh, all right.”
Head down, he shuffled away.
“And on that note,” Gareth’s voice quivered with amusement, “I think I’ll go fetch the rest of our lunch party. Katie?”
Already dressed and waiting, the eldest of Gwyn and Gareth’s kids slipped past Sean and out the door. Gareth slanted a look of mixed exasperation and amusement at his wife.
“I keep telling you that girl is entirely too observant for her own good,” he said. “Never mind anyone else’s peace of mind. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He turned to Grace. “Josh, Lilliane, and Sage, right?”
Grace nodded. “I’ll stand on the deck so they can see me through the trees.”
“Let Sean do that,” Gwyn said. “I’ll put you to work in the kitchen.”
Sean quirked a smile at Grace’s look of inquiry. “Makes sense to me. My kitchen is smaller than yours. I’d just get in the way with these things.”
Grace followed Gwyn toward the kitchen, and Sean trailed Gareth onto the deck. He
caught hold of his cousin’s sleeve before Gareth stepped out of reach. “Grace and me…it’s not what you think.”
Gareth glanced toward the two women in the cottage, and then met Sean’s scowl with a slow, delighted grin.
“Actually,” he said, “I suspect it’s not what you think.”
CHAPTER 30
………………
Organized chaos.
That was the only way Grace could think to describe the lunch scene. Kids seemed to be everywhere—no, kids were everywhere. With seven of them crammed into Sean’s small cottage, along with four adults, how could they not be? Gwyn, however, was a marvel. Raising her voice just enough to be heard over the commotion, she divided the kids into teams, putting Nicholas and Sage to work clearing the living room coffee table, having Lilliane and Maggie set places there for the kids, and asking Josh and Katie to put out dishes for the adults at the dining table.
Sean was relegated to Annabelle-care, and once instructions were issued, Gwyn’s husband Gareth—the Gareth Connor—stepped in to supervise completion. Grace couldn’t help but follow him with her gaze, marveling at the presence of a Hollywood mega-star at a cottage in the middle of—
“He doesn’t bite, you know.”
Grace jumped at Gwyn’s voice. She blushed. “I—uh—I—”
Gwyn chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. He has that effect on everyone.” She handed Grace a casserole dish wrapped in a dishtowel. “Thai chicken and rice. It has a bit of heat to it, but not much. My kids aren’t fans of spicy food.”
“Mine, either.”
“If you want to set that on the table and come back, I have a second one to go out, along with some veggies and a salad.”
Grace eyed the sizable dish already in her hands. “You brought an awful lot of food for a lunch.”
“I made extra so Sean would have leftovers for a few days. I don’t know why I bothered, really. He’s a far better cook than I am, and I should have known he’d be coping just fine. He’s just been so good to me and the kids since Gareth and I got together…I wanted to do something nice in return.”
“Sean told me you and your husband wanted to take him in while he recovered. That seems nice.”
“I’m not sure nice is how Sean would define it.” Gwyn sent an amused look to where Sean sat on the couch, paging through a back-country hiking magazine with Annabelle tucked into the crook of his arm. “As good as he is with kids, he makes no bones about not wanting to be around them too much. Or about not wanting his own.”
Grace almost choked at the thinly veiled warning. Gwyn grimaced.
“Too direct?” she asked.
“Um…” Grace had no idea how to answer. Gwyn sighed.
“Sorry. I have a habit of being rather blunt,” she said. “I’ll butt out now. Besides, it’s not like you have to worry, because the kids aren’t yours to begin with, right? How long is your sister in hospital for?”
Sudden tears blurred Grace’s vision, and the casserole in her hands tipped precariously. Gwyn leapt forward to take it.
“Oh, Lord,” she muttered. “I’ve put my foot in it again, haven’t I?”
Grace shook her head, swallowing hard, aware of Sean’s concern from across the cottage and Gareth Connor’s frown as he tried to steer the kids clear of the conversation. She pulled herself together, mustered a smile. “No. No, it’s okay. Really. I’m fine. It’s just a delayed reaction to losing Annabelle, I think.”
Gwyn regarded her for a moment, and then, with an acceptance that brought a fresh welling of tears, turned Grace toward the bathroom and gave her a little push. “We’ll watch the kids and finish up here. You go wash your face and take a few deep breaths. It helps. I promise.”
………………
“Is Aunt Grace okay?” Lilliane perched on the couch beside Annabelle and looked up at Sean, worry shadowing her brown eyes.
His heart gave a little squeeze at the trust there as well. “She’s fine,” he reassured the girl, ruffling her hair. “She just had a bad scare with losing your sister, and she needs a few minutes alone.”
“It wasn’t her fault that Annabelle got lost. She had a headache, and she needed to lie down. We were supposed to be watching Annabelle, but we forgot. And we didn’t know she could open doors.”
Sean’s mouth tilted up at one corner. “It was no one’s fault,” he said. “It was just something that happened.”
“But what if it happens again?” Lilly frowned.
“Tell you what. Tomorrow, while Annabelle is napping, I’ll bring over a new latch for the door, how’s that? We’ll put it up really high, where she can’t reach. Will that help?”
“It will help loads,” Nicholas said, joining them. He patted Lilly’s shoulder comfortingly. “When I was little, Mommy had to put a latch on our door because I kept getting out of the house, too.”
A snort reached them from the kitchen.
“I had to put a latch on everything to keep you contained, you little monkey,” Gwyn said, making her son giggle. “Now, everyone come and get your plates, before things go stone cold and I need to reheat everything again.”
Six kids traipsed obediently into the kitchen, and Sean twisted around to lift Annabelle down from the couch.
“Here,” said Gareth. “Let me.”
He hoisted the willing toddler into his arms, then stooped and handed Sean his crutches. But he didn’t move away. Sean braced himself for the harassment he felt certain was coming.
Instead, Gareth said simply, “Spill.”
Sean didn’t pretend not to understand. “It’s not my story to tell.”
“But there is a story. And not a pleasant one, I’m guessing.”
You have no idea.
“Yes,” he responded to Gareth’s statements. “And no.”
“Will she be all right?”
She will if I have anything to do with it.
The sheer ferocity of the thought caught Sean off guard. So did the twist of his stomach at the idea of any other possibility. His jaw went tight. “She’ll be fine.”
Gareth regarded him for a long moment, still holding Annabelle. Then he tipped his head toward the bathroom door behind which Grace had disappeared. “Why don’t you check on her? I’ll get Annabelle settled.”
As Gareth carried the smallest of their company over to the table, the other kids began making their way back to the living room. Sean pulled himself up onto his crutches and moved out of their way, and the six of them settled around the coffee table he’d once thought too big but that only just accommodated them. Funny how that had worked out.
He crossed to the bathroom door and tapped gently.
“Grace? It’s Sean. Can I come in?”
Grace wiped her face dry and stared into the mirror at her reflection. Hell, her under-eye circles had circles at this point. She’d never looked—or felt—so tired in all her life. Or so helpless. Or so completely overwhelmed.
More tears spilled over onto her cheeks.
Crap. She’d already spent a good ten minutes hiding out in Sean’s bathroom. At this rate, she’d never make it out for lunch. She took another of the deep breaths Gwyn had recommended, although so far they hadn’t done much more than make her lightheaded. The thoughts that kept her pinned in the little room kept spinning through her head: How on earth was she going to manage? How could she be a good parent to those four kids? With all they’d been through, all their trauma, how could she hope to be enough for them?
She put a hand to her chest, pressing against the tightness of panic. Ever since she’d told the story to Sean yesterday, she’d been slowly unraveling at the seams, just as she’d feared. As if talking about it had suddenly made it bigger. More real.
Infinitely more terrifying.
She was so not ready for this. So not capable of handling what was already happening, never mind what was still to come.
A tap sounded at the door.
“Grace? It’s Sean. Can I come in?”
CHAPTER 31
………………
“BETTER NOW?” SEAN HANDED ANOTHER wad of tissues to Grace. She sniffled from her perch on the edge of the bathtub and nodded.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “And I’m so sorry for all of this.”
“Don’t be.” Seated on the closed toilet, he shifted his casted leg to another position, trying to ease the pins and needles in his foot. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure. I’m surprised you’ve held up as long as you have.”
He kept his voice pitched low, so it wouldn’t carry beyond the door to the others. If Grace had a lot to deal with, so did those kids.
“I’ve had no choice.” She blew her nose. Her resolute gaze met his. “I have no choice.”
“You can let me help.”
“You have helped.”
“I meant help more.” He reached forward to take one of her hands in his. “Grace, I’ve been thinking. Last night—”
“No.” She pulled away and stood up, but she couldn’t go anywhere, because his outstretched cast blocked the door.
He didn’t move. “We can’t just ignore—”
“Yes,” she said. “We can.”
Frustration reared in him. “Damn it, will you at least let me finish a sentence?”
“I can’t.” Her voice was ragged. “Look, I won’t deny there’s chemistry between us, Sean, but I told you last night, I don’t have room for this right now. Not with the way things are. Not with the kids.”
He caught her fingers and twined them in his, feeling her warmth. Her fragility. Remembering the way her fear for Annabelle had cut through to his own core. He scowled. “What if it’s more than just chemistry? What if—”
“What if you’re just caught up in my circumstances? What if half of what you feel is some misguided sense of responsibility? Sympathy for them”—she nodded at the bathroom door—“and for me? What if what I feel is utter terror at the thought of raising four kids on my own?”