“You’ve been sitting here swelling up for six hours or more.” She thought through her options. “I have to go upstairs for a minute. Don’t move, Dad.”
His lips white at the edges, he tried to smile. “Can’t go anywhere.”
Who should she call? An ambulance would terrify Dad. Once upstairs, she called Gray. He would help her. She was sure of it. Hadn’t yesterday’s fishing trip been a truce of sorts?
He wasn’t her friend, but he would be decent enough to help, wouldn’t he?
She called Turner Lumber and was put through by Hilary.
The second Gray answered, Audrey said, “I need help. It’s Dad. He fell down the basement stairs.”
“I’m on my way.”
Then, silence. Just like that. Agreement.
Audrey unlocked the front door and left it wide-open, then went back downstairs to keep Dad company.
Not ten minutes later, Gray entered the house.
Audrey had been independent since she’d left home at nineteen to attend college. She’d depended on herself, not others, in life, and certainly not on a man, but she nearly crumpled with relief when she heard his rapid footsteps above and then on the stairs coming down.
Thank God. Now they could get Dad upstairs. Put him to bed. Make him comfortable.
“Heard you had an accident, Jeff.” Gray stood in front of Dad and bent forward to peer into his face. A lock of blond hair fell across his forehead. Audrey studied his straight profile, certain that he could handle anything that needed to be handled. He glanced at her and nodded to let her know he’d registered the pain Jeff was in. “How bad are things?”
“Hip’s banged up but not broken. I can’t make it up the stairs alone.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Audrey wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Gray sound so compassionate. Had aliens come and snatched Gray from his body, leaving this warm man in his place?
“Come on.”
Jeff stood, and Audrey directed Gray to Dad’s right side. Gray managed to get him upstairs, but Dad’s skin was gray by the time they reached the living room.
“Maybe we should take you to the hospital for X-rays,” Gray said, and Audrey made a slashing motion across her throat.
“No!” Dad said. “No hospitals.”
With a puzzled frown, Gray asked, “Are you certain it isn’t broken?”
“Positive. I couldn’t have come upstairs otherwise, even with your help.”
“May I ask for another favor?” Audrey edged Gray out into the hallway. “Would you mind going to the pharmacy to pick up painkillers? We don’t usually keep that stuff in the house.”
“Sure. Is there a reason why Jeff won’t go to the hospital to make sure his injuries aren’t serious?”
“Same reason as for not having the operation. My mom’s death.”
“I figured as much. Just checking. I’ll be back soon.”
After he left, Audrey wrapped tea towels around two freezer packs and took them to her dad.
“Here. Put this one on your hip. The other is for your shoulder.”
She made sure they were placed properly.
“Ten or twelve minutes max, Dad, okay? Time it while I make you a cup of tea.”
“I’d rather have a glass of Gray’s Scotch.”
“Are you kidding? As soon as Gray gets back, you’re taking a bunch of painkillers. No alcohol. Besides—” she smiled even though he couldn’t see it “—you guys finished it off.”
By the time she’d made a pot of tea and had carried it to the living room, Gray had returned.
He got a glass of water from the kitchen and shook a couple of tablets into Jeff’s hand. “I asked the pharmacist for the strongest nonprescription painkillers. He recommended these.”
Gray got into Jeff’s face. “He also strongly urged me to take you to the hospital.”
“Won’t go,” Dad said.
Gray chuffed out a grim laugh. “Yeah. He knows you. That’s what he said you’d say.”
Audrey sweetened Dad’s tea and made sure he drank the full cup before doctoring a second one.
“Stay with him while I make some food? He hasn’t eaten all day.”
Gray nodded, and Audrey left the room.
In the kitchen, she tried to make an early dinner, but her hands shook. What if Dad had really broken that hip? What if he’d gone into shock and she hadn’t come home for another three hours? If the store had been open today, if she had been there instead of at the greenhouse, she would have gotten here a lot later than she had.
Ignoring how clumsy her fingers were, she managed to punch Teresa Grady’s number into her phone. She should have done it earlier in the week when she’d threatened to. She’d been busy. No excuse.
Five minutes later, she’d made arrangements to drive into Denver tomorrow to pick up the therapist. Thank God, she was available.
Audrey leaned her forehead against the cool refrigerator. She felt a hand on her shoulder and straightened.
“You okay?”
She turned to find Gray, expression concerned.
“I just arranged to have an occupational therapist come live with Dad for the next two months. I’m picking her up tomorrow.”
“And?”
“And?”
“Why does that make you look like the world is coming to an end?”
“Because,” she said, “the shit will hit the fan the second the woman steps inside this house.”
“Ah.”
“Yes. Ah. An enormous ah.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and, even though the gesture was brotherly, Audrey felt the heat of his touch to the soles of her feet. Who knew a man’s touch could be so comforting and so disconcerting at the same time?
“You go sit with your father while I make dinner for the two of you.”
“You can cook?”
He spotted the pork chops on the counter. “I can fry a pork chop. What else were you planning?”
“Asparagus and frozen fries.”
“I can do that.” He turned her toward the kitchen doorway. “Go.”
“Will you stay and have dinner with us? Especially if you’re cooking it?”
“Yes. And I’ll help you get Jeff upstairs to bed.”
Audrey closed her eyes and folded her hands as though in prayer. “Thank you,” she breathed.
In the living room, the anger that fear had kept at bay kicked in and overwhelmed her. Dad could have died. He could have broken his neck.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
Dad’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “Come here,” he said, voice rough.
When she approached, he held out his hand. She took it in hers.
“I’ll never go down there alone again. Okay?” he asked, his chuckle weighted with suppressed emotion. He sobered quickly. “I scared myself, Audrey. I’m not ready to die. Even with these useless eyes, I’m not ready to go yet.”
Mollified but still shaken, she hooked her foot around the leg of a footstool and pulled it close. Enough said. Her anger might be appeased, but residual fear and shock hummed through her body. She opened the book about World War II.
“Invasion of Normandy?” she asked, surprised that she sounded so calm.
“Yes.”
While Gray cooked, Audrey read to her father in an eerie facsimile of a domestic scene.
* * *
AUDREY HAD ENJOYED her drive home from Denver with Teresa Grady. It had given her a chance to get to know the woman better. Audrey didn’t doubt for a moment that Teresa would be able to hold her own against Dad.
When she turned onto her street, she noticed a Turner Lumber pickup truck parked in front of the house. Gray?
As soon as she stepped
into the house, she recognized his voice. Had he come to keep Dad company? Or to ease the tension when Audrey brought the therapist home? Either way, she was glad he was here.
She entered the living room. “Hello, Gray,” Audrey said. “Hi, Dad.”
Dad had been laughing about something, but stopped. She had tried to sound normal, but maybe her voice had been too bright. Or maybe Dad had just grown sensitive in the past year to nuances and shifting patterns in the people around him.
“There’s someone else here,” he said. “A shadow beside you, Audrey. Who is it?”
“This is Teresa Grady, your new occupational therapist.”
Her father became rigid, his face turned red, and Audrey felt an instant’s fear. Could something like this cause a heart attack? A stroke?
He said nothing, anger pouring from him in waves.
“I interviewed a lot of people and hired the best.” Audrey stepped farther into the room. “Her credentials are excellent. She’s got a great sense of humor. She’s willing to put up with you.”
Her joke fell flat. She introduced Teresa to Gray. Dad still hadn’t said anything.
“Dad, manners,” Audrey warned. “Please say hello.”
He didn’t.
Ooooh. Obstinate man.
Audrey made a sound of impatience. Teresa touched her arm. “It’s okay, Audrey. I’ve dealt with difficult clients before.”
“I’m not difficult,” Dad barked, sounding difficult.
“We’ll see.” Teresa motioned for Audrey to leave. “Why don’t you start on dinner? I’ll do better without you here,” she whispered. “Trial by fire.”
Gray turned to leave. When Gray said goodbye, Dad grunted.
Audrey stepped into the hallway to thank him for visiting again, but the words stuck in her throat. She clasped her hands over her belly.
How on earth was this ever going to work? And if it didn’t, what was her next step?
She knew she should be eavesdropping to find out how things were going between Teresa and Dad, but she just didn’t have the strength.
Gray took her hands, pried her fingers open and chafed them between his palms. They warmed. Thank goodness.
She opened her eyes. Here in the darkening foyer, his eyes were calm, the gray deep and unfathomable.
“Hey,” he said. “Things will work out.”
While the sentiment might have been lame, she appreciated that he was trying to cheer her.
She shrugged, her optimism, her joie de vivre, temporarily spent.
He opened his arms, and, without hesitation, she stepped into them, needing warm human contact too badly to question taking it from Gray. He ran his hands down her back, and she calmed, breathing in his forest-green essence and taking from it the same sense of rightness she got from her land. The same sense of belonging.
She didn’t realize she was crying until the fabric of Gray’s shirt beneath her cheek became wet. She’d kept this at bay, had maintained her good spirits by the sheer force of her willpower, but God! It felt good to just let go.
Gray gentled his touch, and she leaned into him.
When she stopped crying, she pulled away. Gray kissed her, a sweet touch of his lips to hers, and then he was gone.
It was a good thing because, despite what she’d said the other night about never wanting him to kiss her again, had he pushed it at this moment, she would have been all over him.
Had he sensed that? Had he left because he respected her and wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability? She hoped so. She chose to believe so.
Teresa stepped into the hallway.
Audrey swiped the backs of her hands across her cheeks and straightened away from the wall, forcing her backbone into taking-care-of-business mode.
“Let’s get you settled into your bedroom.”
“Bedroom?” Dad called. “You mean she’ll be living here?”
Teresa rolled her eyes to tell Audrey not to worry, that things would work out. Audrey took comfort in her confidence. She picked up Teresa’s bag and carried it upstairs for her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THAT WOMAN STOOD in front of Jeff. He saw her shadowy outline. He’d hoped that he’d been so rude last night she would decide to leave.
No such luck.
He heard Audrey leave the kitchen and walk down the hallway.
“I’m off to get a couple of hours in at the greenhouse before I open the shop. You two have a good day.”
“What about my breakfast?” Jeff asked.
“Teresa’s going to get it for you.”
“Correction,” Teresa answered. “I’m going to teach Jeff how to do it himself.”
Jeff heard Audrey leave the house.
“You have a lovely daughter,” the woman said.
Jeff grunted, but otherwise refused to acknowledge her presence. Why should he? He didn’t ask to have a stranger living in his house.
“You should hear the way she talks about you. She really loves you.”
He wished he could see the woman. “She couldn’t love me too much or she’d stay here to take care of me.”
“She has to earn a living. As far as I can tell from the conversation we had in the car yesterday, she’s working hard to make her business a success. Just because she works, never doubt her love.”
Jeff grunted again. “What now?”
“Now, we go to the kitchen, and I’ll teach you how to make an omelet.”
“I raised my children as a single parent and cooked for them all of their lives. I know how to make an omelet, woman.”
She was silent for so long he might have thought she’d left the room but for that blurry image of her in front of him. “I have a name. It’s Teresa. My friends call me Tess. Please use it rather than grunting like an animal or calling me woman.”
Jeff felt two feet small. He never treated women with such little respect, but he didn’t want her here. Why couldn’t Audrey and this woman, this Teresa, understand that?
“If that’s too informal for you, you can call me Mrs. Grady.”
After her reprimand, he’d hung his head, but now it shot up. “You’re married? Why are you here taking care of me instead of your husband?”
“I need to earn a living. My husband died a long time ago and left me with nothing. I went back to school to learn a trade. I take care of myself. And I can take care of you. What do you want for breakfast besides the omelet?”
“No omelet. Eight slices of bacon, well done, and two eggs sunny-side up fried in butter, with toast and jam on the side.”
She laughed, and it rang like music through the room. “Dream on, Jeff.”
Her laughter affected him deeply, in places where he hadn’t felt anything for a long time. He fought back, because he didn’t want those spaces filled, didn’t want memories of loving Irene replaced with new ones. “Is this how you conduct business? Making fun of your clients?”
“When they’re behaving like two-year-olds, yes.”
He could sense her moving closer.
“Listen, Jeff, this is the way it’s going to work with me. I understand that you are in a difficult place right now. I am probably the most empathetic person you’ll ever meet, but I’m also tough. I don’t take shit.”
Jeff scowled. “It’s not right for you to swear. I don’t like it.”
“Okay. It was unprofessional. I apologize.” She sounded sincere. “Let me rephrase. I won’t allow you to treat me with disrespect. I will at all times respect you. If you find that I don’t, speak up, as you just did, and I will adjust my behavior.”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought she might have a finger up in the air. What was she doing?
“Secondly...”
Oh. Counting off points.
&
nbsp; “You will try everything I ask you to do. If you don’t succeed, I won’t get angry. I won’t express impatience. Instead, I’ll teach you again. Together, we will try and try and try until you learn to adjust to your new situation.”
“Situation? Is that what you call it?” he roared. “I’m going blind. How about if we skip the euphemisms and call a spade a spade.”
“Okay, let’s deal with that. Do you want to talk about your feelings?”
“What are you? A psychiatrist?”
“No, but I have a pair of ready and willing ears.”
“I don’t want to talk.” He slammed his fist onto the arm of the chair.
“Fine. Then let’s cook.”
He remembered last week’s humiliation, when he couldn’t even make himself scrambled eggs without nearly setting the house on fire.
“I don’t want to cook.”
“Your choice. But this is the way it will work. I’m going to make my breakfast. Not yours. I’m not a maid or a caretaker or a caregiver. I’m a therapist. I don’t do for. I teach, with the goal of helping you to become independent.”
“You would let me starve?”
“If that’s what it took to break through your mulish attitude, yes.”
She left the room, and he heard her in the kitchen, taking things out of the fridge, setting a pan on the stove, running water.
His stomach grumbled.
He sensed, no knew, she wouldn’t give in. She would make herself breakfast and sit out there and eat it without feeding him, practicing tough love on him, as though he was a rebellious teenager.
He heard her cooking, and the house filled with good scents and his stomach rumbled again. Then, nothing, and he knew she was eating.
Heck.
He stood and shuffled down the hallway. When he finally stood in the kitchen doorway, he sensed a shape stand up from the kitchen table.
The woman, Teresa, said, “Okay, we’ll start with something more basic than an omelet.”
He was listening for triumph in her voice, for any trace of I-told-you-so, but there was none. What he did hear was practicality. Quiet acceptance.
She taught him how to make the scrambled eggs that he’d messed up the day before, using tricks to help him adjust to not being able to see.
Because of Audrey Page 14