Raising Connor

by Loree Lough

  “She’s like a different person,” Hunter was saying, “moody and grouchy all the time. The only one who can coax a smile out of her these days is Connor.”

  “That happens sometimes after a serious brain injury,” Maureen explained. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. Things should get back to normal soon.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Then we tell Dr. Norris.”

  Dr. Norris…who would order a flood of misery-inducing tests and procedures. The thought made her shiver. If behaving as though she liked having him hover like a Jedi warrior would keep her out of the claustrophobic MRI machine, she’d imitate the Cheshire cat from dawn till dusk.

  Brooke hobbled out of the bathroom, eased into the recliner and exhaled a satisfied sigh. “Nothing like a little mascara to make a girl feel all shiny and new.”

  Hunter and Maureen traded confused looks.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “I’m still full from that big country breakfast Maureen made.”

  The nurse tapped something into her laptop, shut its lid and gathered her things. “Well, time for me to go,” she said. “Heads up—I could be a little late tomorrow. We’re short-staffed thanks to summer vacations, so I have to start my rounds in northern Baltimore County tomorrow.”

  Hunter walked her to the door. “How many patients are you seeing now?”

  “Twenty-two, six more than usual.” She aimed a finger at Brooke. “You’re done for the day, missy. No more exercise.”

  “Don’t worry,” Brooke said, working the kinks out of her neck.

  Now the finger pointed in Hunter’s direction. “And you…remember what we talked about.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Do or do not,” she said on her way out the door. “There is no try.”

  “What was that all about?” Brooke asked once she was gone.

  “Oh, just routine ‘how to care for Brooke’ stuff, is all.”

  Yeah, right. And my real name is Brooke Shields. She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. “In between Deidre’s soap operas,” she told him, “I saw a commercial for the Dr. Phil show. It’s about liars today.”

  But Hunter was in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher, and couldn’t possibly have heard her over all the racket. “Just as well,” she whispered around a yawn. She had no proof that he was working toward taking Connor, and felt like a first-class ingrate talking to him that way after all he’d done—and was still doing—for her.

  She was dreaming about work when the doorbell woke her three hours later.

  “That’ll be the family,” he said on his way to the foyer.

  “Good thing I put mascara on this morning, then.”

  He grinned. “You’re just as beautiful without it.”

  “Hunter, before you let them in…”

  One hand on the doorknob, he looked at her.

  “Later, tomorrow morning, maybe, will you do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  If she hadn’t overheard part of his conversation with Felix, Brooke would have bet the farm that he meant it. Get a grip, girl. Remember…he’s the wolf, and you’re wearing white.

  “Remind me to call my boss? I want to make sure I’ll still have a job when Norris finally gives me the go-ahead to get off my lazy behind.”

  In place of a response, Hunter opened the door. Within minutes the living room was full of Stone men, women and children. How they’d managed to arrive at the same time boggled her mind.

  “Happy Fourth of July,” Gabe said, bending to kiss Brooke’s cheek.

  Laughing, she looked over his shoulder at his wife. “Fourth of July? Has he been working the graveyard shift so long that he doesn’t know what month it is?”

  Now Jesse stepped up to greet her. “He’s crazy, but not that crazy. Deidre told us she was planning a big July Fourth shindig and that you were really looking forward to it…before the house fell on you.”

  “And our baby brother here,” Rafe put in, looking at Hunter, “thought better late than never.”

  As they helped her outside, Brooke wondered why Deidre had said such a thing, when her lack of enthusiasm about the party had annoyed her grandmother.

  The matter was quickly forgotten as she settled into a webbed lounge chair and had a look around. It must have taken Hunter hours to turn the yard into a red, white and blue extravaganza. No wonder he’d been adamant about keeping her in the front half of the house these past few days.

  As the brothers fired up the grill, their wives disappeared into the kitchen. “I feel like a sloth,” Brooke told Deidre, “sitting here doing nothing while everyone else has a job to do.”

  “Your job is to get better,” Constance said through the open kitchen window.

  Half a dozen voices called, “That’s right!”

  Deidre snickered. “You might as well go with the flow and enjoy your life of leisure while it lasts…you helpless cripple.”

  “Good thing these guys aren’t politically correct cops,” she said, laughing.

  The kids captured Brooke’s attention. Half of them were playing T-ball and badminton, while the other half chased a giggling Connor, who’d gathered up birdies and Wiffle balls. Beth, the O’Toole family’s party girl, would have loved this. Maybe Brooke would continue the tradition her sister had started and fill in the rest of the journal with the description of this day.

  After a hearty meal of burgers and dogs, potato salad and coleslaw, Hunter rounded up his nieces and nephews and led them to the side yard.

  “There’s an awful lot of whispering and giggling going on over there,” she called to them.

  When they reappeared the kids were single file, wearing colorful hats and carrying toy instruments. Jesse put marching music on the stereo—the kids’ cue to parade around the yard tooting plastic horns and clanging tiny cymbals as Connor, the grand marshal, pounded a red drum.

  When dusk cloaked the little yard, Gabe brought out sparklers that glowed golden on every youthful face. The kids squealed happily, drawing circles and curlicues into the darkening sky as Brooke leaned closer to her grandmother. “This day has been perfect. One of the best in my memory,” she admitted. “How did you keep it a secret?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Deidre said as Hunter approached. “I only found out last night, when Hunter called to tell me what time to be here!”

  Brooke looked up into his face. “You did all this? For me?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  Strange choice of words. But she shrugged off the suspicious thought.

  Constance joined them on the porch and linked arms with Hunter. “So tell me, when are you leaving on vacation? Ocean City will be beautiful this time of year.”

  He quirked a brow and stared at his feet. “Bright and early tomorrow,” he said, impatience lacing his voice.

  A dizzying array of emotions tumbled in Brooke’s head. If anyone deserved a break, it was Hunter. She’d miss her shadow, who’d anticipated and filled her every need. And it would break her heart if she learned that the phone call Deidre overheard and what she’d gleaned from his whispered conversation with Felix held even a glimmer of truth.

  But knowing that he was leaving frightened her. She’d come to rely on him, and felt like a hypocrite for taking all that he had to give without offering the one thing he wanted: forgiveness.

  “Well, Brooke,” Jill said, breaking into her thoughts, “are you all packed and ready to go?”

  Packed? Brooke sighed. She should have known he’d find a way to include her in the trip.

  “No,” she said, feeling more ungrateful than ever. “Not yet.”

  One hand on her hip, Constance faced Hunter. “Oh, dear. We’ve let the cat out of the bag, haven’t we?”

  He looked sheepish and annoyed and flustered, all at the same time. “The plan was, break the good news right after you guys cleared out.”

  Jill gave his biceps a playful slap. “Are you out of your mind? A girl needs more th
an a few hours to plan her vacation wardrobe.” Facing Brooke, she added, “Fortunately, you’ll only need lightweight, summery stuff for your fun-filled week at our bayside condo.”

  “You sound like a real-estate commercial,” Gabe said. Chuckling, he hugged her. “Way to sell it, hon!”

  Brooke smiled, but it wasn’t easy. What if Hunter was planning to spring the adoption news on her at the beach?

  One by one, his brothers and their wives joined those already on the deck as Hunter explained, “Don’t worry, I’ve cleared it with Dr. Norris.”

  Brooke looked at Jill. At Constance and Deidre. At everyone but Hunter. If he’d done this to impress his family, he had succeeded, and the proof was written all over their admiring faces. She considered saying she wasn’t ready for a four-hour drive, for two weeks at the beach. But why spoil everyone’s enjoyment when they’d gone to such trouble to give her a proper July Fourth celebration?

  “How large is your condo?” she asked Jill.

  “It sleeps four comfortably. Why?”

  Brooke did a quick scan of the Stone family. “Will we all fit?”

  A moment of silence before the tinyback yard erupted with laughter.

  “We aren’t going,” Jill said.

  Jesse elbowed Hunter. “Because we weren’t invited.”

  Hunter sat in the chair beside hers. “It’s just you and me, pretty ballerina” he said, pulling Connor into his lap, “and baby makes three.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  WHEN THE SPARKLER boxes were empty, Hunter’s family cleaned up the yard and kitchen. By nine o’clock the Stones were gone, leaving no evidence that twenty-plus people had frolicked in the yard. How peculiar it seemed that Hunter’s family had so eagerly pitched in to help him give her back the holiday she’d missed.

  With Connor asleep upstairs and Hunter driving Deidre and Felix home, the house was eerily quiet. Her grandmother had worked up a good head of steam when the motor of her ancient sedan failed to turn over. Something told Brooke that the interior of his pickup was anything but quiet.

  The thought prompted a slight grin, which was quickly supplanted by the angst roused by the going-to-Ocean-City dialogue. “If you know what’s good for you,” she mumbled, gathering her pajamas and robe, “you’ll follow doctor’s orders to the letter.” Because until she could stand on her own again—literally and figuratively—Hunter would feel duty-bound to take care of her.

  Not long ago she’d bristled when other men tried to protect or make decisions for her. So why had she allowed Hunter—the guy who’d been the target of her ire for years—to coddle her?

  If only the social worker, Charlotte Matthews, hadn’t been transferred. Dealing with Mrs. Damian had made Brooke feel a little like a lion tamer. Compliments, cooperation, cajoling—nothing bridged the communication gap between her and the always-angry woman who, in her opinion, was the reason she hadn’t received notice of the guardianship hearing before now. And with her only ally in the court system out of reach…

  Those weepy, whiny women she’d looked down on before the plane crash, before her accident, didn’t seem quite so mawkish as she struggled to slip out of her T-shirt and slacks and into pj’s and a robe. Stop thinking about how much you hurt and how tired you are, she thought, and be thankful that you survived.

  Brooke looked into the mirror above the vanity. “Barely.”

  She heard the front door open and close.

  Hunter was back.

  Faced with carrying out her half-baked decision to get the beach house nonsense out of the way and find out what he knew about her missing paperwork, her resolve fizzled with the last of her energy.

  Brooke hobbled into the living room and found Hunter stretched out on the sofa. Beside him on the end table, two big slabs of cheesecake.

  “I didn’t think there was any left,” she said, helping herself to a slice.

  He sat up and took the other one. “I squirreled this away even before the kids’ parade ended. Hid it behind a package of liverwurst.” Wincing, he said, “I can’t believe you eat that stuff.”

  “Ever tried it?” she asked around a bite of cheesecake.

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know you don’t like it?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve read the ingredients.”

  “My dad was a huge Dale Carnegie fan,” she began, “and one of his favorite quotes was ‘The person who goes farthest is generally the one who is willing to do and dare.’”

  “Which goes hand in hand with ‘The sure boat never gets far from shore.’”

  It didn’t surprise her that Hunter was well-read, but that he knew Carnegie surprised her. And wasn’t it odd that this shift in the conversation had relaxed her? Or maybe it’s the cheesecake, she thought, grinning.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Brooke waved the question away. “So this Ocean City trip… When did you get that bright idea?”

  “Yesterday.” He shrugged. “Gabe and I were talking, and he suggested the beach, I called Dr. Norris to make sure it was okay.” He took another bite of cake. “How long since you’ve been there?”

  “I’ve never been there.”

  He sat up straighter. “What? A Maryland native who’s never been to the OC? I don’t believe it.”

  “Mom and Dad said they didn’t believe in beach vacations…a nice way of saying they couldn’t afford it.”

  “I don’t think Beth ever mentioned what they did for a living.”

  “Mom stayed home. Dad was in construction.”

  He stopped chewing. “You’re kidding.”

  “Commercial construction. A senior project manager for high-rise buildings all over the country.”

  He nodded. “I spent a summer between my junior and senior high school years working for Harbor Construction. I’m embarrassed to say I couldn’t handle the heights.”

  “But you’re on ladders every day!”

  “Two, three stories up, at most. Those buildings were hundreds of feet tall. And when I was involved, they were just skeletons. I-beams that felt like they were just floating up there in the sky.” He shuddered. “I prefer to keep my feet on the ground.”

  “Funny. But I’ve always seen you as fearless.”

  “Why?”

  Because as a younger man, he’d wanted to be a cop, knowing full well that every time he put on his uniform might be his last. That took courage. But she couldn’t admit it without opening old wounds.

  Surprise number three: it never occurred to her that the day would come when she felt protective of him.

  “I have no idea where my luggage is,” she said. “Do you have a duffel bag or backpack I can borrow?”

  Brooke had heard it said that people could smile with their whole bodies, but until this minute, she’d never witnessed it herself.

  Brooke smiled back. “Go home, Hunter.”

  His smile dimmed, and so did the happy light in his eyes.

  “You said you wanted to get an early start.” She pointed at the clock. “It’s nearly midnight, and I hear it’s a four-hour drive to the ocean.”

  One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Three and a half, if traffic isn’t too nuts.”

  “I’ll get my things together. Connor’s, too. So that when you get here in the morning with the bag, all we’ll need to do is—”

  “Stuff it,” he said with her.

  He added their plates and forks to the dishwasher and filled it with soap. “Will this keep you awake?” he asked, closing the door.

  “I’ll be fine. What time will you be here?”

  Hunter glanced at the clock. “Is six too early? I’ll grab some breakfast, and we can eat on the road.”

  “I’ll be ready,” she said as he stepped onto the porch.

  She heard his key in the lock, the jiggle of the knob as he made sure the bolt was set, heard his merry whistle growing fainter as he walked toward his house. Heard her heart beating double time and hoped she wasn’t making the biggest mistake
of her life by trusting him with her life…and Connor’s.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  HE PARKED A sleek red convertible in the driveway, exactly like the one she’d told him about months ago. Brooke didn’t know which touched her more—that he’d remembered, or that he’d rented it because the truck’s shocks might jostle her still-healing body.

  As they crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, it began to rain. “Good thing I didn’t let you talk me into putting the top down,” he said, turning on the windshield wipers.

  Brooke grinned. “Nobody can be wrong all the time.”

  They shared a moment of companionable laughter as Connor squealed at the sight of every sailboat that skimmed the water’s surface.

  “I brought some basic groceries,” he said as they left the bridge behind them. “Once we’re settled, you can make me a list and I’ll get the rest.”

  “I can help.”

  He shot a warning glance in her direction, which softened when she added, “I won’t have a very good time if you do everything for me.”

  “Brooke, one of the main reasons for this trip is to give you a chance to rest and relax.”

  “You’ll have your hands full with Connor, chasing him up and down the beach. If you don’t let me help, you won’t get any rest. Then I’ll feel guilty. And get grumpy.”

  He chuckled. “Let’s play it by ear, okay?”

  They continued chatting like old friends as the rain pecked the rag roof. As Assawoman Bay came into view alongside Coastal Highway, the skies cleared and the sun came out of hiding.

  “Connor, look,” she said, pointing, “a rainbow!”

  But the baby slept on, and she exhaled a sigh of disappointment.

  Hunter reached across the console and took her hand. “He’s not even two yet,” he said, giving it a gentle squeeze. “He’ll have lots of chances to see another one.”