He sighed heavily. “I know you have family. Sisters, a father, assorted animals...”
“Yes.”
“And you’re close to them?”
“Yes.”
“Then why haven’t you told them about the accident and your injuries?”
She clasped her hands in her lap, stared down at them. She feared he would think her answer bordered on the absurd, but she said it anyway. “Because my father, who has always watched over me as if a black cloud loomed on every horizon, warned me not to drive in the snowstorm.” She frowned. “He more than warned. He practically threatened.”
“Turns out he was right,” Keegan pointed out.
“Yes, and that makes it all worse. But there’s another reason. My father is a renowned cardiologist in Fox Creek. He always kept track of my asthma. Sometimes I felt like he was monitoring every breath I took.”
“That can be tough, but it’s hard to find fault with a caring father,” Keegan said.
“I know that, but you’re supposed to see this from my point of view. I want to live my own life without the strict regimen of always taking my illness into account. I love my job, but sometimes I think my decision to work in nature was a direct rebellion against my father’s constant worrying.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
“He continually advises me to come home and live at Dancing Falls. If he learned about how I disobeyed him and ended up, well—” she glanced at her walking boot “—like this, we’d only argue, and who knows where that might lead.”
“And you don’t want to take that chance?”
“No. I can’t. My relationship with my father is a long story about an even longer battle fighting for my independence. Being the baby of the family has its rewards, for sure, but if the baby has an ongoing physical condition, then the rewards are too often outweighed by the obstacles.”
His hand came to rest on her nape. He gently massaged the tense muscles. “And your father never let you forget you had asthma?”
“Right. He has worried about me my whole life. He’d probably keep me in a bubble if he could.”
“But you’ve been here a week. You’ve been outside, around a dog. You’ve experienced stress, which I’ve heard is a trigger for asthma. The temperatures have been bitterly cold. And you haven’t avoided any of my scraggly trees.”
She smiled.
“And at least to me, you seem to handle your condition very well,” he added.
“I do handle it well now. But when I was a kid, I was reckless, and I had a number of problems. My father can’t seem to forget those times. He was furious when I joined the Forestry Service. If it hadn’t been for my mother, I probably wouldn’t have pursued the career I love.”
“And doesn’t your mother support you now?”
“She would, I’m sure, if she could.” Carrie drew a deep breath and told Keegan about her mother’s illness.
“I’m sorry, Carrie,” he said.
She looked into his eyes. “Don’t misunderstand. I love my father. He is a wonderful, caring man who is burdened with responsibilities no one should have to face. And he feels he’s the one person who must protect everyone, save everyone, even from themselves.”
Keegan nodded. “And if you’d told him about the accident...?”
“He would have ignored his own welfare, set out on that cold, bitter day in the middle of a blizzard and come to get me. Instead, you found me, and, Keegan...?” She grasped his hand. “You have allowed me to be myself, the person I want and need to be. My father can’t do that. To him, I am sickly. I need care and guidance.”
“To be fair to your father, I know that asthma is an ongoing condition that has no cure.”
“True, but it can be controlled, and I control mine. I take a daily medication and have my inhaler with me at all times. The problem with my dad stems from my childhood when I wasn’t so careful. Unfortunately he has seen me in distress too many times, and he can’t forget that I’m older and not so careless now.” She inhaled and blew out a deep breath. “We have had some serious fights about this topic.”
“I can imagine.”
“My sisters are more understanding, but even they treat me like an invalid sometimes.”
Keegan’s eyes, the greenest she’d ever seen, stared into hers. “I hope I haven’t treated you that way. I certainly don’t think of you in those terms.”
“No. You’ve been wonderful—for the most part.”
He laughed. “Great. A qualified compliment. But the truth is, the day before I met you, I didn’t care if I was wonderful to anyone, except maybe my son, and he doesn’t count since he’s so far away.”
“He counts,” she said with a bit too much conviction. “You call him twice a week, and he knows he can call you.”
“Yeah, he knows. But he doesn’t.”
“Maybe that will change,” she said.
“Maybe. So how long are you going to wait before telling your family? Can you keep up the lie for three more weeks until you’re cleared to drive?”
“No, probably not. I can’t stay with you that long.”
She watched his face for any sign of agreement. After a moment he said, “But your car isn’t ready yet.”
“No, it isn’t, so there’s not much I can do right now. When it is fixed, I’m still hoping to drive myself back to Michigan by using the walking boot.”
“Carrie...”
“Only if it’s safe,” she added. “Otherwise I guess I’ll have to call Larry, my supervisor, to come and get me. I won’t be able to do much work in the field, but I can at least monitor some experiments I’d been working on.” She grinned at him. “That’s two...”
“Two what?”
“Questions. Any more?”
“The rest are personal,” he said. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that. Let’s call it a night.”
“Sure, and, Keegan...”
“What?”
“I have a hunch we’ll have a terrific New Year’s Eve, so get a good night’s sleep.”
He stood from the sofa, leaned over and kissed her forehead. “My, Miss Foster, that sounds intriguing. My reporter’s mind is running on all cylinders.”
Oh, dear, she might have given him the wrong idea. “Don’t get too carried away,” she said. “You’re still a grumpy hermit, and I’m still a freeloader with a broken leg.”
She fluffed her pillow and stretched out on the couch. All at once the wrong idea was starting to sound like it might just be the right one. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a wonderful day.
* * *
CARRIE WAS DRESSED for the day when Keegan emerged from the bedroom at eight wearing his faded pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved thermal shirt. He didn’t usually sleep so late, but Carrie was glad he did this day. He would be well rested and cheerful when she told him where they were going.
“You look nice,” he said in a yawn. “Got plans?”
He was making a joke, but she hoped she did look okay. She wore comfortable boot-cut jeans to accommodate her walking boot and a light blue sweater with a few sparkles around the neckline. She didn’t want to scare Taylor by showing up in her usual sweatpants and T-shirt.
“I might,” she said, answering his question.
He clasped his hands behind his back and stretched. “Am I included, because I don’t remember you going over any schedule for the next few hours.” He headed to the kitchen and turned on the coffeemaker. “On the other hand, I can’t imagine who else you have made plans with.” Looking over his shoulder, he added, “Jeanette?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “What’s for breakfast? Can I help?”
“I’ll make eggs.” He brought the toaster to the dining table and plugged it into
the nearest outlet. “Sit. You’re on toast duty.” He supplied her with bread, a knife, butter and jam before he went to work on the eggs. “I noticed you avoided my question. Are we back to having secrets?”
She slid two pieces of bread into the toaster. “Keegan, get serious. I’m pretty sure you and I have many secrets yet.”
Even with a view of just his profile, she could tell he was smiling. “True that,” he said.
“But don’t jump to any conclusions,” she said. “I plan to tell you everything when the time is right.”
“And since you’re dressed so fancy, with all those sparkly things, am I to assume that the same is required of me? Because if it is, I’m not going to like it.”
“No. You can dress in your customary Paul Bunyan clothes...” The ones she secretly adored. “But you might want to shave.” So when you give me a hug of appreciation, I won’t feel the whiskers.
They ate, as was Keegan’s habit, with the TV tuned in to a news channel. He made comments about the questionable political scene, frightening world events and the many mistakes he was sure leaders were making. “Another day in paradise,” he said, picking up the dishes.
“You should have stayed a reporter,” she said. “That way you’d have an outlet for all these complex opinions you have. Truthfully, they’re wasted on me. I happen to like most everything about the world we live in.” In case she sounded too naive, she added, “Well, there are some things I would change.”
He gave her a warm grin. “I just might be starting to appreciate your optimism.” He hung up the dish towel he’d been using. “I’ll get dressed now for what I’m guessing is a New Year’s Eve celebration of drinking beer and soda at a local pub in faux, not-even-breakable crystal glasses.”
She smiled. “Not even close.”
He reappeared after a shower and shave wearing a roomy brown-and-tan-checkered shirt over a clean brown Henley tucked neatly into his jeans. His hair, still damp, showed signs of attempted styling. Still, strands fell over his forehead looking adorably messy and touchable. “What am I ready for?” he asked.
“A drive,” she said. “And we’d better get going. It’s a two-hour drive, and we have to be there by one o’clock.”
He plopped down in his easy chair and rested his hands on his knees. “Okay, that’s it, Carrie. I need more to go on, so spill.”
“I know you do, and I’ll tell you everything when we’re in the car. Can’t you just trust me for right now?”
His features looked uncertain, as if he were actually debating an answer to her question. What if he told her that no, he couldn’t trust her? Luckily he nodded as he rose slowly from the chair. He moved forward as if his next steps might lead him into a pit of quicksand.
Carrie sympathized with him. A life as a reporter in the most dangerous locales must have made him cynical about trusting anyone.
“Let’s go,” he said. “As far as we’ll get anyway.”
She pointed him east toward a major interstate highway when they left the campground. Carrie kept up an animated conversation about the scenery, the weather, speculation on what Duke and Delores were doing today, what plans her family might have, and general questions about how Keegan had spent previous New Year’s celebrations.
After more than an hour had passed, he said, “I’m not going another mile without knowing our destination Carrie. It’s not that I think you’re part of some guerilla army planning an ambush, but my past has taught me to expect what might be in the road before I get there. So tell me where we’re headed.”
She sighed, knowing she had to tell him now. He’d been more than cooperative. She consulted the GPS on her cell phone. “Okay. Take exit twenty-three and head south toward Riverside Drive.”
“Riverside Drive? That’s the address of the airport. We didn’t drive all this way just to watch planes take off and land, did we? ’Cause I have to tell you, Carrie, I’d rather be watching football.”
“No, of course not. We’re only here to watch one particular plane land.”
“What plane? What are you talking about?” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Who’s coming in on that plane?”
She’d been so sure, so confident of her plan. But suddenly his eyes, suspicious, alert to a potential problem, his mouth, curled downward into a frown of anticipated trouble, made her think that just maybe Taylor’s arrival wouldn’t go as she’d hoped.
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and stared at his profile, trying not to concentrate on the muscles in his temple throbbing. “The plane is coming from Seattle, Keegan. It lands at one fifteen, and Taylor is on it.”
He swerved off the road but quickly righted the Tahoe. “What did you say?” His glare made her want to shrink into the seat. If they hadn’t been going sixty miles an hour, she might have considered jumping out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE MUST HAVE MISHEARD. That was the only explanation Keegan could come up with. Carrie didn’t even know Taylor. She didn’t know how to contact him. And even if she did, Marta would never agree to... He ground his teeth. Marta had surprised him before. She could do it again.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the road, Keegan tried to think. There was no point in turning around. His son was coming in. He had to deal with it.
After a few moments, a meek voice croaked, “Surprise.”
He risked a glance at her face, centered with the sweetest smile he’d ever seen on a person. Yet that flirty grin was completely inappropriate for the conniving little princess who had interfered in his life in the most dramatic and personal way.
He had to say something. They were only about a half hour from the airport. Soon they would be greeting an arriving plane, one that had brought his son all the way from Seattle. “You’re serious?” he said for lack of a better opener. “Taylor is coming here?”
“Yes. Aren’t you happy? I mean, he’s your son...”
“I know who he is, Carrie! And because he is my son, mine! I know you had absolutely no right to play any part in my relationship with him. Where do you get off thinking...” He couldn’t go on. Her eyes were glistening with moisture, and he figured she was seconds away from a full-on deluge.
“I just thought this would make you happy, help to repay you for all you’ve done for me.”
“So you repay me by pulling the rug out from under me? By sabotaging any plans I may have had to see my son this summer? By interfering in a family situation that is delicate, to say the least?”
“Keegan, it’s only delicate because you two...”
“No. Don’t tell me anything about me and my son.” He blew out a long breath. “You can’t work people according to your whims, Carrie. We’re not trees or plants that you can water and fertilize until they come out the way you want them to.”
“I know that! But aren’t you being just a bit ridiculous?”
Ridiculous? She thought he was being ridiculous? She was forcing a meeting between him and Taylor without giving him any warning, without realizing the possible consequences. And he was being ridiculous?
“I mean,” she went on. “You don’t have any plans for the weekend. And as far as your family situation is concerned, I’ve heard your conversations with your son. I would have to see DNA results to know you two were even related.”
“That’s just my point!” he said. “We’re not buddies. I love the kid, yeah, but he’s one type of person and I’m another. He’s into sports, music and books and...” Realizing he was totally incapable of describing his son’s interests, Keegan clamped his mouth shut. “I don’t even know what he’s into, frankly,” he said after a moment of fuming over his own insecurities, this woman’s interference, and who knew what else.
“Then you’ll use this weekend as a time to get acquainted with him,” she said, as if all the problems of the world could
be settled with a plane ride and a few days of forced bonding.
“Did you also purchase a return ticket?” Keegan asked. “Taylor is in school. His grades are important...” At least I think they are.
“Naturally, I did. He’s going back on Tuesday. Marta would never have allowed him to come unless I assured her when he’d be back.”
So now she’s even claiming to know what’s going on in Marta’s mind. “That’s another thing,” Keegan blustered. “How did you talk her into this? Marta is the most protective mother you’ll ever meet. She doesn’t allow Taylor to cross the street without an escort.”
“He’s thirteen, Keegan,” Carrie said. “I’m sure she allows him more freedom now than she did when he was a toddler.”
“She’s never let him come to see me,” he said.
“How many times have you asked?”
He hadn’t. At least not often and not for over a year since he’d moved into the campground. What kid would want to spend even an hour in such a forsaken, miserable place as Cedar Woods?
“He wanted to come,” Carrie said. “He asked his mother. I talked to Marta. Taylor still had some time left on his winter break. We all agreed...”
“Oh, so you all agreed? How nice. Didn’t any of you think, for even one moment, that another person was involved? And maybe that other person should have a say in this little adventure?”
“That’s not how surprises work, Keegan,” Carrie said.
“You convinced Marta to go along with this surprise? I can’t believe it!”
“She was fine with it,” Carrie said. “Everyone is fine with it, except...” She pointed up ahead. “Take the next left toward the sign that says Short-term Parking. I think we should park and be in the terminal when Taylor comes out of the gate area.”
He had totally lost control—of this woman, his son, this entire situation. And he was stuck, so he put on his left blinker and slowed for the turn.
Rescued by Mr. Wrong Page 12