by Peggy Jaeger
In a much lower, less lethal tone, but one still forged in steel, I said, “Look. There’s nothing I can say that’ll ever change your opinion of the legal system or lawyers. After everything you’ve said, I finally realize that.”
His gaze raked my face, his brows drawn so tight together, it was a wonder he didn’t have a headache from the tension.
“So I’m done trying. Now, why are you here?”
I don’t know if he was surprised I wasn’t arguing with him any longer, or if the awareness of people staring and listening to our exchange as they went about their business in the courthouse filtered through him. Whatever the reason, he relaxed his shoulders and flexed his neck from side to side. The jagged breath he inhaled told me how much pulling for calm was costing him.
“I’m leaving,” he said.
“Oh.”
As far as responses went, it was about as pathetic as they come.
He was going home. Going back to his life, back to his world. I shouldn’t have been surprised or upset about it. I had, after all, told my sisters he would.
Somehow, in the back corner of my mind, I’d hoped he wouldn’t. I’d hoped he’d…stay. With me. For me.
“When?” I asked, thankful my voice continued to remain calm and cool.
“Right now. Something’s come up at home and needs my immediate attention.”
I nodded, not sure of how else to respond. I knew what I wanted to say, what my heart was begging me to say. How I wanted him to see me for the woman I was and not the profession I worked in. How he’d awakened my heart and soul again when I’d locked it away after Danny’s death. I needed him to hear what he meant to me, how much I wanted to be with him, how precious he’d become to me. He needed to know he could stay with me for a night, a day, or forever if he wanted.
And I desperately wanted to tell him I loved him, but the fear that he didn’t reciprocate that love stopped the words from releasing. The unemotional way he’d come to tell me he was leaving was all the proof I needed that he didn’t feel for me what I did for him. Not even close. The dispassion in his voice, the cool glaze in his eyes, all confirmed it. If he’d ever felt something for me, it sure wasn’t strong enough to compete with his disdain for my lawyer status.
“Everything at the museum is completed?”
“Almost. Dr. James has it under control. She doesn’t need my help.”
We were as stiff and awkward as two strangers meeting for the first time under less than perfect circumstances.
I swallowed the tears bubbling up from deep inside, shoved them back down, and held them there with all my will. I wouldn’t cry in front of this man. He wouldn’t see me break.
“Okay. Well…I guess this is goodbye, then.” Ever Nanny’s dutiful oldest granddaughter, I offered him my hand.
His gaze dropped to it, then dragged back up to meet mine. Those corrugations on his forehead returned, and the corners of his eyes slitted as he cocked his head.
Ignoring my hand, he took a step in closer. “Cathy, I—”
I took two back.
He stopped short, head jerking back as if I’d slapped him. The bulge at his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the color in his cheeks losing a little more shade. His gaze held mine as he lifted his hands in an I-give-up gesture and stepped back.
“I wanted to…tell you…say…thank you…for everything. I—I couldn’t have done this without you. Without your help.”
“My grandmother was more helpful than I was,” I said. “She was the one who told you about Robert’s things. She’s the one you should thank.”
“I already have.”
Okay, this was news.
“I went to the nursing home yesterday and brought her lunch from Maureen. We talked for a couple of hours, actually. She’s delighted all the stuff she kept of Robert’s is actually going to be displayed in the museum. She thinks he’d be pleased to have his personal possessions added to the collection.”
I’d bet cash money she was right about that.
“Thank you for that. And for visiting her. I know she appreciates the company.”
He rocked back on his feet, the uncomfortable, tense silence returning.
We stood there, staring at one another.
I was the one who finally broke. “Well, I don’t want to keep Lucas waiting, so I’ll say good-bye again. I’m looking forward to reading the book. Get home safe and sound.”
I didn’t put out my hand this time.
“Cathy.”
I waited. He continued to stare at me, something remarkably like regret filling his eyes.
But for what was the question.
“I don’t want to leave this way.”
“What way?”
“With you angry and upset. It wasn’t my intention.” He blew out a breath. “When I heard the case you were presenting, it, well…it brought back everything again.”
“I can’t and won’t change what I am, what I do for a living, because it makes you uncomfortable,” I said.
“No. I know that. I’m not asking you to. It…it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
He shoved his hands into his bomber jacket and dropped his chin to his chest. A few minutes ago, he’d been a fierce force of anger. Right now he was ravaged by sorrow and remorse. I desperately wanted to comfort him, take him in my arms, and tell him everything was going to be okay.
But I knew it wasn’t. As long as he couldn’t get past his loathing of the system I’d dedicated my life to, there was no way things were ever going to be okay between us.
“For what it’s worth,” I said, “I’m not angry. I’m just…disappointed.”
He lifted his chin, those piercing crystal eyes filled with sadness.
“Good-bye, Mr. Frayne.” I turned, stalked away from him, and never looked back.
Chapter 20
“You’re quiet this morning, lass,” Nanny said as I drove her to Maureen’s after mass. “Are ya not feelin’ well?”
“Just tired. Work has been crazy busy.”
I mentally crossed my fingers. Not twenty minutes after receiving communion and here I was telling a lie. There had to be a special place in purgatory for people like me.
Purgatory sounded pretty good right now because I’d spent the last three weeks in my own private version of Hell. Sleepless nights spent roaming my empty, lonely house; long, quiet evenings with no one but myself for company; mornings where sadness would cause me to burst into tears in the shower.
Pity party, table for one, rang through my head often when I found myself moping and pining.
“Ya look like you’ve lost a few pounds, too,” Nanny said, her wise eyes scrutinizing me across the cab.
“My pants aren’t complaining.” My attempt at levity fell flat.
“Cathleen Anne Eleanora.”
Uh-oh.
“I’m fine, Nanny. Really.” I flicked my gaze her way, then cut back to the road as I pulled down the lane to Inn Heaven. “No worries. I’ve just been too tired to cook when I get home.”
That part at least wasn’t a fib. I’d had no appetite for days. In fact, a generalized queasiness and overwhelming exhaustion typically engulfed me for most of the day. Hot tea helped, as did a few antacids every now and again.
“Make sure Number Four gives ya some provisions to take home.”
I didn’t want to discuss why I looked like something the family cat hacked up after a night carousing, which was where this conversation was heading, so I said, “Thanks,” hoping to put an end to it.
Silly me. This was Fiona Bridget Mary Darcy Sullivan O’Dowd Heaven Scallopini. Nanny was like a dog with a bone when something tickled her granny-radar.
“I’ve been meaning to ask ya,” she said as I pulled around to the back of the inn, “have ya heard from Mac?”
Suddenly, talking about why I looked like hell didn’t seem all that bad.
“Um, no.” I parked and sprang out the door to help Nanny, grateful for the few moments of silence.
/> “Hold onto my hand,” I told her as I slipped on arm around her waist. Even though Maureen’s groundsman kept the walkways and stairs de-iced and snow-free, it was always in the front of my mind that a slip and fall for Nanny could be catastrophic at her age.
“I’m not feeble, Number One,” she scolded but held my hand regardless.
“Not a word anyone would ever associate with you, Nanny, but it’s February in New Hampshire, and I’m not taking any chances.”
Once she was at the top of the stairs, she pulled out of my embrace.
“Hey.” Maureen kissed Nanny’s cheek and helped her from her coat. “How was mass?”
“It wouldn’t kill ya to find out on your own, young lady.”
My sister’s grin was pure devil. “Sorry, Nanny, no can do. Guests to feed. Rooms to clean. A business to manage. Hey.” She bussed my cheek and rolled her eyes behind our grandmother’s back.
It was no secret Maureen’s aversion to attending weekly church services began when Eileen was buried. She’d never discussed why she’d turned away from the religion she’d been raised in, but I’d always secretly suspected she was furious with God for taking her twin and needed to blame someone for the horrible loss.
“Colleen’s got a wedding in Concord, so it’s just us today.”
The kitchen was oven warmed, the tangy sweetness of Maureen’s fresh cinnamon rolls wafting about the room.
“It smells like Heaven in here,” I said, shucking out of my coat.
“Aye, it does.” Nanny planted herself in her usual chair at the table and said, “I’ll take one o’ them rolls, lass, and a cuppa.”
They were in front of her before she put a period on the sentence.
She took a large sip and sighed. “There now, that’s fine, ’tis.”
“I’ve got a box of scones ready for you to take back, Nanny. I figured you were getting low.”
“Aye, I am. Tilly’s been sneakin’ into me room at night, pilferin’ ’em. Can’t seem to get enough to eat no matter how much she stuffs in her face durin’ the day. Not gainin’ an ounce, she isn’t, either. And speakin’ of not enough to eat”—she turned those wise eyes to me—“have you got some provisions for this one to take with her? She’s not been eatin’ right of late, and it’s beginnin’ to show.”
Maureen peered at me across the table as she placed a tray of rolls, freshly baked bread, and a stick of butter down on it. Her beautiful blue eyes narrowed a bit at the corners, and she pressed her lips together in a very Nanny-like purse.
I flicked a quick look at Nanny, who was regarding her tea, and mouthed Don’t ask to my sister. If Maureen was ever blessed enough to have children, I knew for certain they’d cower under the force of her questioning perusal.
“I’ll put some things together.”
For the next hour, the three of us sat and chatted, with Maureen rising at times to help serve.
During a lull, I told them something I’d been musing over the past week.
“I’m thinking of getting a dog.”
“Are ya, now?” Nanny’s eyes went on hyper-alert, the brilliant blue in them glistening as she focused her attention on me.
“I miss having a dog. George was such a part of my life for so many years, and I miss coming home to love and licks and someone to care for.”
Maureen asked a string of questions about the breed I was interested in, and then had to leave to deal with a guest issue.
Alone now with Nanny, the intense, inquisitive stare she was tossing my way was very similar to Frayne’s. There was a Nanny-quisition coming.
I girded my loins.
“Is it a dog you’re wanting, lass, or a man and a family of your own?”
That perception trait of Maureen’s could be laid firmly at this little Irishwoman’s DNA door.
“Well, George was family.” I lifted my shoulder in what I hoped was a careless shrug.
“You’re a smart, no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is woman, Cathleen Anne. But I am as well, so don’t be thinkin’ you can bullshit one who was raised in th’ muck and mire.”
To hear an epithet come from my grandmother’s mouth was akin to Halley’s comet lighting up the sky: a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. Maybe that was the reason I divulged the true reason I was considering bringing a dog into my home again.
With a heavy sigh, I took a sip of my tea, swallowed and then said, “Finding a dog is a lot easier than finding a man to love and make a family with, Nanny. Especially living here. The field of available men isn’t exactly wide open.”
“Nonsense, lass. Two of me four husbands hailed from Heaven. There’s plenty o’ men you could choose from.”
“Forty years ago, that may have been true. Nowadays, not so much. Getting a dog seems…simpler. There’s no emotional baggage to sift through, no issues other than training them not to pee indoors. ”
Nanny squinted at me, and I have to admit, I wiggled in my chair under her scrutiny. I was almost forty years old, yet my grandmother still had the capability to make me revert to a naughty six-year-old, anticipating a come-to-Jesus lecture.
“I’m not blind, ya know, lass.”
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t remind her of her recent cataract surgery, necessary because she’d—literally—turned as blind as a dingbat.
“Any fool could see there was somethin’ goin’ on between you and Mac Frayne. Had the look of a man besotted whenever you were in a room together. More than me commented on it at the home when you both came t’ visit.”
Heat rushed up my neck and cheeks.
“And by the look o’ that flush boundin’ up your face, you’re equally smitten. Don’t try to deny it,” she added when I opened my mouth. I slammed it shut again. “Now, tell me what happened between the two of you. One minute Mac was at the home, telling me about Robert, the next, he’s gone. What happened?”
So I told her. Everything. From Frayne’s family tragedy, how he’d helped me with George, his distaste about my being a lawyer, and the argument we’d had in the courthouse the day he’d told me he was leaving.
And Nanny listened without saying a word, which had to be difficult for her, since she’d never shied away from interrupting, offering an opinion, or making herself heard at any time during my entire lifetime.
Maureen rejoined us as I recalled that last day. When I was done I felt…lighter, somehow.
“You’re in love with him,” Nanny said, nodding once I’d finished.
Since it wasn’t a question, I didn’t feel compelled to respond.
“Do ya’ know how he feels about you, lass?”
“In all honesty, no. Yes, he was attracted to me, I can’t deny that. But did he feel enough for me to get over what he thought about what I do?” I shrugged. “I think it’s obvious he couldn’t.”
Maureen squeezed my hand.
“Men can be such dolts. And clueless, as well, to what’s right in front of them.” Nanny shuddered and shook her head.
I laughed. Leave it to her to speak the truth.
As I got her settled back into her room at the nursing home a while later, the box of scones from Maureen hidden in her bedside table drawer, Nanny pulled me down into a fierce hug.
“If I’ve learned anythin’ in all me years,” she said, “it’s love finds ya when you’re least expectin’ it to show up. There’s someone for ya, darlin’ girl. Someone to build a family with and who’ll make ya feel like a queen. I’ve no doubt of it.
I smiled down at her, wishing I could feel as confident as she. “Your lips to God’s ears, Nanny.”
“No worries, lass. I’ve a direct line, I have.”
Those twinkling eyes pulled a smile from me. A peck on her cheek and then I left her to her latest romance novel.
****
“I think I’m coming down with something,” I told Martha a few days later. “I have zero energy, and I can’t shake this queasy, upchucky feeling.”
“Your color’s off, for sure. I’d even say you look
a little green around the edges.”
I’d been feeling weird for a while, but today a bone-zapping fatigue was begging me to put myself to bed.
“Your schedule’s clear until Monday afternoon. Why don’t you go on home and get some rest? I can manage everything here for the rest of the day.”
A hot date with my pillow sounded like bliss, and forty minutes later, I was snuggled deep under it, about to drift off when my garage doorbell rang. I was prepared to ignore it, but it rang again.
I tugged on my ancient bulky bathrobe, and as I stumbled down the stairs, I had to hold on to the bannister for dear life to ward off the dizziness spinning in my head. On wobbly legs, I threw open the door, took one look at Mac Frayne’s face, and then everything around me went black.
A man was speaking, the words muffled, like when you’re trying to hear someone talk underwater.
“No…I caught her before she fell…okay. I’ll be here.”
Frayne.
My eyes flew open, and I found myself flat on my back on my kitchen floor, one of the cushions from a kitchen chair propped under my head.
“Cathy.” Frayne tossed the cell phone on the table, dropped to his knees, and took my hand. “Are you okay?”
“What happened?” I tried to sit up, but I slammed my eyes closed again and turned to stone because the room started spinning.
“You fainted.” His hand grazed over my forehead and trailed down to my cheeks. “You don’t feel warm, but you look ill. Have you been?”
With my eyes closed, I told him I hadn’t been feeling well for a few days. Maybe a little longer, now that I thought about it.
“This is the first time I’ve fainted, though.” To test the dizzy-waters, I slowly opened one eye, then the other. Frayne’s face above me was carved with concern. His eyebrows were a hair from touching in the center of his forehead, his lids tight at the corners. That delicious, delectable mouth I’d more than once fantasized about kissing in the past few weeks was drawn tight.
Something wasn’t right about his face, though. I was able to see all of it.
“You got a haircut.”
He continued to stare down at me. A tiny tug lifted one corner of his mouth. “Well, your vision’s not impaired. Do you want to try and stand up? I can help you.”