Because you weren't thinking straight, Maggie reminded herself. And so, when Libby had come to the hospital last night, Maggie had assured her there was nothing which needed doing.
Besides, she reminded herself, it was no big deal. She might as well get used to trekking up and down the stairs; she could hardly lock herself in the apartment for the next few weeks, so she might as well start right now by learning how to manage.
She got Tripp's leash and hooked it to his collar, but before she'd even reached the door he'd wrapped himself around her crutch. If he did that on the stairs, she'd go down again for sure. Maggie unhooked the leash and tied it around her waist.
The staircase looked steeper from the top, and the idea of going down was far more threatening than coming up had been. Tripp bounded halfway down and stopped to bark impatiently at her. Maggie balanced herself carefully and swallowed hard, and remembered what the therapist had said this morning about the proper way to tackle stairs.
She tried not to think about the last time she'd come down this flight of steps, out of control, bouncing, rolling, and coming to rest with a broken bone. And that was with the use of both feet, and with both hands free…
Stop it, she told herself, and before she could psych herself out of making the effort, she took the first step.
By the time she got to the bottom, she was trembling with exertion and her skin was damp. But she'd made it, and the first time, she told herself, was much the hardest.
She could do this.
She sat down on the bottom step, untied the leash from her waist, and snapped it to Tripp's collar. He danced away, pulling the leash out of her hand. Maggie grabbed for it and missed; the dog zoomed playfully down the hall and out of sight. She called him, without result, and irritably hauled herself upright once more to follow.
He was nowhere in sight, and the side door was standing half-open. She must not have closed it firmly when she came in. Maggie was annoyed with herself, but not seriously concerned; there was no one around, and she sometimes let Tripp run in the grassy area just across the drive. Surely he'd stop there, delighted with his freedom.
She was at the door when she saw the dog dart across the drive and under the wheels of a black Mercedes.
She heard the sharp squeal of brakes and closed her eyes, but the sight was imprinted on her retinas. Tripp was so small, so fast, so hard to see. How could anyone avoid hitting him? And he was so tiny and fragile that if a tire had so much as grazed him…
She tried to run, for an instant forgetting the crutches that handicapped her. Her weak foot went out from under her, the crutches slipped, and she fell heavily against the side rail of the little porch.
A car door slammed, and Karr took the steps in a single leap, bellowing, "How the hell did that dog get loose?" He stopped when he saw Maggie clutching the rail and trying to regain her balance. "You. I ought to have known."
The words were tart, but his touch was firmly gentle as he slid an arm around her waist and lifted her upright, holding her till she was balanced on her good foot. "Hang onto the post for a second," he ordered, and retrieved her crutches.
"Is Tripp—" Maggie couldn't finish the sentence, and she couldn't bear to look at the driveway.
"He appeared to be fine when I last saw him," Karr said drily. "He ran practically between the wheels, and the last glimpse I got, he was headed at top speed into the woods. A sensible choice, I must admit; if I'd had my hands on him at that moment I'd have made him into a fur scarf."
Sheer relief made Maggie snap, "Don't you think you came close enough to doing just that?"
"I was expecting him to be upstairs where he belongs," Karr pointed out.
Maggie bit her lip. That had been a fancy piece of driving; she had thought there was no way he could escape hitting the dog. She ought at least to tell him she appreciated his skill…
"Dammit, Maggie, what are you doing back here, anyway? I came to the hospital just as I said I would—but you weren't there, and nobody seemed to know where you'd gone."
The desire to apologize evaporated, and Maggie put her chin up. "I came home. Where did you think I'd go?"
"You're right. I ought to have known." He perched on the rail, arms folded across his chest, and added calmly, "I suppose you've been upstairs? But of course you must have been, to get the dog."
Maggie studied him warily, but he sounded as if he was merely making conversation. He didn't seem to be defensive, and for a wonder, he'd stopped issuing accusations, too.
Maybe they could talk about this in a civilized manner after all, she thought, and nodded.
"And how did you get along?" Karr asked politely. The question seemed to be no more than a superficial query about her health.
"Just fine." She kept her voice cool.
Karr slid off the rail and came over to her. Both Maggie's hands were occupied with the crutches, so she couldn't stop him from cupping her chin in one hand and raising her face to the light. "You're a liar, too," he said harshly. "You're absolutely gray with the effort." He released her abruptly. "Dammit, Maggie, don't you have any sense at all? What if you'd fallen again? You're shaking, and you look like hell—like you're going into shock."
"Of course I'm in shock. My dog's gone—"
"He'll come back. The toupee's not so dumb that he doesn't know a good thing when he sees one."
"But he's dragging a leash. He'll get hung up and strangle himself!" Maggie was trembling in earnest now.
To his credit, Karr didn't point out that it was Maggie's own fault that her dog was on the loose. He swore, under his breath, and put his arms around her, crutches and all.
Maggie leaned against him, grateful that for a moment or two she didn't have to think about her balance. He would keep her from falling. But within seconds she realized that it wasn't only support he was offering; his warmth was comforting, too. She hadn't realized how cold and clammy she felt, and how safe she was in his arms…
She nestled closer and burst into tears.
Karr's lips brushed her temple in a caress that wasn't quite a kiss, but wasn't an accident either. The contact scorched Maggie all the way to her core.
"Look," he said finally, "I'll make you a deal, Maggie. I'll find your damned dog, if you'll go somewhere that you'll be safe."
Maggie considered the offer and almost turned it down. He'd seize any excuse to get her out of Eagle's Landing. And surely he'd go looking for Tripp in any case—when she'd mentioned the leash, he'd looked just a little sick himself.
But the thought of tackling the stairs again left her cold. The lesson had been a hard one, but the fact was she didn't have stamina enough right now to manage the climb, and she wasn't going to regain it anytime soon. And if she couldn't go up and down with relative ease, without fearing every moment that she would fall again… Karr had hit a nerve with that mention of safety. What if there was a fire, and she couldn't get down the stairs in a hurry?
It broke her heart to admit it, but she simply couldn't manage Eagle's Landing under these conditions. So she might as well surrender gracefully—while Karr was still willing to provide her with a place to live. She'd have to look for something permanent, of course, as soon as she was fit again—but right now she simply had no alternative but to accept what he offered.
"All right," she mumbled. The words seemed to stick in her throat. "Whatever you say."
She had forgotten how beautiful his smile was, and how it seemed to light up his entire face. How long had it been since he'd smiled at her, anyway? A couple of days, she thought. She hadn't realized how much she had missed it.
She was still a bit bemused at the effect a simple smile could have on her as Karr settled her in the Mercedes and got behind the wheel.
"Aren't you going to look for Tripp?" she protested. "I'll be fine right here in the meantime."
Karr shook his head. "I'm going to give him a chance to wear himself out first. Once he stops running he'll be a great deal easier to find."
"But what if he—"
"Maggie, you're going. Now."
There was no arguing with the steel thread in his voice; he had sounded just like this yesterday as he issued his ultimatum. But even though she knew it would be prudent to back off, Maggie heard herself saying, "What's the matter? Don't you trust me to keep my part of the bargain?"
His eyebrows rose very slightly. "Do you really want me to answer that?"
She didn't. "So where do you suggest I go?"
"Well, that's a problem. When I mentioned the apartment yesterday, I forgot that the tenants' association has voted not to allow pets."
"I haven't got one any more," Maggie pointed out, drearily.
"You will have. I'll find the little mutt if it takes all week—I promise."
Maggie would have thanked him for the determination, but she was afraid she'd cry if she tried. "The condos, then?"
Karr shook his head. "I checked this morning, but there are only second-floor units left."
"Then what?" She wasn't even thinking about the question; her mind was still on Tripp. "Your townhouse has stairs, too, doesn't it?"
He shot a look at her, and the warmth in his gaze seemed to set her blood on fire.
"Been giving some thought to that offer, have you?" he asked lazily. "Is that why you didn't stop by that afternoon—because you were scared you'd end up staying?"
Maggie glared at him, annoyed at herself for letting that bedroom voice of his conjure up all kinds of exciting, unexplainable sensations. Why had that comment popped back into her mind—and at such an inconvenient time? "You're a dreamer, Elliot." Karr laughed. "And here I thought you weren't taking my offer seriously."
"I'm not. So where are you taking me? Libby has stairs too."
"And she starts to work next week. You shouldn't be alone."
That was obvious. If she couldn't carry something like Tripp's leash, how was she going to manage a plate, or a book? But what were the options? There was no one she could ask for such a favor.
They were well into Eagleton by then, in a neighborhood of large houses-mansions, really, set far apart and well back from a tree-lined boulevard, across from a manicured park.
"This is gorgeous," she breathed.
"Haven't you been here before? It's one of the oldest neighborhoods, where the families who started the town all gathered together. It's still called Society Flats, sometimes."
The house he took her to was smaller than many of the others. A neatly-kept brick Georgian, it had a circular drive and a huge old maple tree which gracefully framed the front entrance.
"Do I know who lives here?" Maggie asked uncertainly as the Mercedes pulled up to the front door.
"Not yet." Karr came around to help her out. "I've found you a private-duty registered nurse who's agreed to take you into her home till you're healed."
Maggie refused to move. "Karr, don't you think that's overkill? Having someone around to give me a hand is one thing, but I don't need a full-time nurse, for heaven's sake. And I certainly can't afford—"
He didn't seem to hear her. "By the way, she's also my mother." Sliding one arm under her knees and the other around her back, he lifted Maggie out of the car. "And I'm rather fond of her. So you'll treat her more gently than you do me—won't you, darling?"
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Your mother?" Maggie wriggled a little, but to no avail; Karr held her easily, well off the ground. "Why's your mother taking in private patients?"
"Well, not because she couldn't find a job in a hospital somewhere; I assure you she's an extremely competent nurse. But of course you can ask to see her diploma if you're not convinced of her skills."
"Don't be ridiculous. You know perfectly well that isn't what I meant. It can't be for the money, that's all, or she wouldn't be living in this kind of neighborhood. So why would she bother with—"
"Well, you never know," Karr said thoughtfully. "You're right, this is an expensive neighborhood. So I suppose she might be having trouble making ends meet, and since I'm far too self-centered to help her out…"
Maggie would have kicked him if she'd had full use of her body. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard you say all week."
"You don't think I'm cheap and selfish? My goodness, that is progress."
At the range of six inches, his smile was even more devastating; Maggie felt a little dizzy, and it took effort to keep her voice level. "At least not where your mother's concerned. But don't get a big head over my approval—I know perfectly well the only reason you're treating me decently at the moment is that I could sue you for my fall."
"Now wait a minute. How are you planning to shift the blame to me?"
"Illegal eviction," Maggie said briefly. "And my attorney agrees. Now will you at least put me down and give me my crutches so I can walk in like a lady, under my own power?"
"Tell the truth—you're afraid if you keep talking to me like that, I'll drop you." Karr set her carefully on her one good foot and slid both hands to her waist to steady her.
"No, I figured the alternative was that you'd throw me over your shoulder and haul me in like a sack of potatoes."
He grinned. "What a gracious capitulation!"
The front door opened, and a tall, slender woman with soft gray hair looked out.
Oh, great, Maggie thought. From Mrs. Elliot's point of view, it must look as if her son's arms were around Maggie for a great deal more reason than mere physical support.
But Karr didn't seem to notice. He stood there for a long moment looking down at her, and then helped her balance against the Mercedes while he got her crutches.
The walk to the house looked immensely long; the stairs at Eagle's Landing had robbed Maggie of more energy than she'd expected, and she couldn't quite suppress a sigh. Before she realized what he intended, Karr had set the crutches aside and picked her up once more.
"Put me down," she demanded, but it was a half-hearted protest, and Karr ignored her.
He swept her across the threshold, leaned down to kiss his mother's cheek, and said, "Where do you want me to drop the baggage?"
"On the couch, I think." Brenda Elliot's tone was almost businesslike, but her voice held some of the same soft huskiness that made Karr's so distinctive. "We'll start getting acquainted, if you're not too exhausted, Maggie."
"Well, I like that." Karr sounded aggrieved. "I carry you in, but Mom's worried about whether you're exhausted."
Maggie summoned a rather shaky smile. "I really appreciate this, Mrs. Elliot."
"It's nothing, my dear. And I'm Brenda, please." She studied Maggie's face and turned to Karr. "I thought you were bringing her straight from the hospital, but she looks a little gray. Have you let her wear herself out?"
"Let her? I'd like to see anyone stop her," Karr complained. He strode across the marble-floored central hall to a big living room, and set Maggie gently down on a luxuriously long couch. "But that figures—she acts like a fool, and I get the blame."
Brenda paid no attention to his protest. "I baked your favorite cookies, Karr. Can you stay a while?"
He shook his head. "Sorry to kiss and run, Mom, but I have to go rescue a toupee from his fate."
Brenda blinked once, as if she wasn't sure she was hearing correctly. But she didn't ask for an explanation, Maggie noted.
She waited at the front door till Karr brought Maggie's crutches, and then came into the living room.
"He means he's going to look for my dog," Maggie explained.
"Well, that's a comfort. With Karr, you never quite know." Brenda pulled up a hassock and perched on the corner of it, studying Maggie's face and the pristine white cast that stretched from her toes to well above her knee. "The orthopedics people had a good time with you, didn't they? No one ever answered my question, you know. Have you done something foolish to wear yourself out this morning, or are you feeling generally awful?"
Maggie bit her lip. "I was foolish," she admitted.
"Well, that's good."
"It i
s?"
"Of course. If you've overdone things, a rest should take care of it. If there wasn't a good reason for the way you look at the moment, I'd be far more concerned." She stood up. "May I get you a soft drink or a cup of tea?"
"Oh, please, don't wait on me. I'm not used to it—"
Brenda Elliot smiled, and suddenly she looked very much like Karr. The resemblance took Maggie's breath away.
"I don't plan to," Brenda said gently. "But just now you need a rest. So how about some tea and a good chat? If we're going to be housemates for a month or so, the sooner we get to know each other the better."
Until the comfort of Brenda's words washed over her, Maggie hadn't realized how tense she'd become. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to simply relax and let someone take care of her. "That would be lovely," she said simply, and leaned back, letting the peaceful quiet of the room wash over her. She could almost feel each muscle slowly loosening as the tension drained away. "Do you take in patients often?"
"Oh, no. You're my first in years—but Karr says you're extremely special. I'll be back in just a minute."
Extremely special?
Maggie could hear him saying it, his husky voice edged with irony, and her anxiety reappeared in a flood. It was just as well Brenda hadn't waited for an answer, Maggie thought. She hadn't a clue what to say.
Brenda Elliot had not only a dry sense of humor that Maggie quickly came to appreciate but a finely-tuned perception where her patient was involved. She seemed able to detect Maggie's aches even before Maggie herself was fully aware of them.
"Time for a pain-killer and a nap," she decreed after their cup of tea, and showed Maggie to a pleasant ground-floor bedroom at the back of the house. "We remodeled this room and added the bath when Karr's grandmother—my mother-in-law—couldn't live alone any more. These days I use it mostly as an office, but I've moved my things out so you'll have room to work. Is Karr bringing your things over?"
"I don't know. I didn't think to ask him."
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