by Pat Warren
Bart narrowed his gaze. “You tell me. Does he?”
“I guess only he could answer that.” She was silent several moments, sipping coffee, thinking over what she’d heard and what Bart had said. “He does seem happier here than back in Boston. But if that’s so, why doesn’t he just quit the law and move here? I have a feeling you’d welcome him.”
“Damn right I would. I’d try to coax him here if I thought that was best. But no man’s comfortable with a decision he didn’t come to on his own. I was in Joel’s position once. A hotshot Boston lawyer, fancy suits, fast cars. Didn’t have time for my family, my friends. I was on the fast track heading nowhere. I didn’t wake up until my wife threatened to leave me if things didn’t change.”
“That’s when you moved here?”
“Right. Elizabeth’s father owned this ranch and he was in poor health. We moved here with Terry when he was only seven, same age as Joel. The place was getting rundown because the old man had run out of steam and money. I took over and worked like three men. By the time he died, we were on our way. He was grateful enough to leave everything to us.”
“Those must have been hard years.”
“Not as hard as lawyering in Boston. I never really loved law the way Jason does. I like the outdoors, a more simple life. But, like Joel with Jason, I wanted to please my father, who started the Merrick firm. I didn’t realize until it was almost too late that I was a round peg trying to squeeze into a square hole. Elizabeth straightened me out. A good woman can usually do that for a man.” His eyes flickered over her face, and he wondered how much she was reading between the lines.
“Joel spent a lot of time here in his teens, I understand.”
“Sure did. He worshiped Elizabeth. Lois and Jason are good parents, provided you do as they see fit. Elizabeth and I believed that a child has to find himself, to walk his own path in order to be all he can be. Naturally, I’d have been pleased if Terry would have wanted to ranch here with me. But from the time he was small, he wanted to be a doctor. So I let him go, with my blessing. I didn’t want him feeling the guilt I carried around with me for years over disappointing my father.”
Hannah watched him closely and knew he was speaking from the heart. “I’ve met Jason. I was surprised that he’s disappointed in Joel simply because he didn’t stay in the firm. I’ve seen Joel in action in a courtroom, and he’s very good. And I’ve watched him while we’ve been here. Do you feel he’d be better off living in Montana?”
“Not necessarily. I think he should be where he feels he’s happiest. If it’s Boston, fine. If here, that’s okay, too. But he’s got to decide. Jason’s influence runs deep in that boy. He has it in mind that he’d be a quitter if he gave up the law and chose ranching, like I did. Jason still thinks of me as a quitter.”
She’d had a little taste of Jason’s philosophy. “Jason seems to want to control the entire family.”
Bart chuckled. Hannah was all right. It had taken her only one Merrick dinner to get old Jason’s number. “That he does. It’s not enough he’s got two out of three sons turned into clones, he’s still after Joel.” He shifted his gaze to Hannah. “What Joel wants, I believe, is the kind of family life we had here before Elizabeth died. What Joel needs is a good woman to help him decide where he belongs.”
She kept her eyes on his. “If that’s so, I hope he finds the one right for him.”
No one would ever accuse Bart Merrick of subtlety. “Are you sure he hasn’t already found her?”
“If he hasn’t, it’s not for lack of trying. Rumor has it he’s dated nearly every woman under the age of thirty in Boston.”
“A man has to kiss a lot of frogs before he finds the one who turns into a princess,” Bart said, unabashedly revising the fairy tale as he gave her a wink. “Besides, I don’t know as though we can trust those rumors. He’s young, handsome and he’s got a bank account. Naturally, people are going to speculate, but not necessarily truthfully.”
The kitchen wall phone rang just then, cutting off Hannah’s need to reply. As she watched him rise to answer it, she was glad for the interruption. She hadn’t pegged Bart as a matchmaker. Then why did she get the impression he was trying to pair them? Or was he just poking around, looking for answers?
“Slow down, Marcie,” Bart said into the phone, “I can’t make out what you’re saying.” He listened as the distraught woman repeated her message. “All right, I’ve got it. I’ll tell Joel and Hannah. They’ll get the plane gassed up right away.” He hung up and turned around.
“That was Marcie. Will’s had a heart attack.” Bart reached for his jacket.
“Oh, no!” Hannah whispered, her hand fluttering to her throat.
“I’ll go get Joel.” Bart hurried out the back door.
* * *
Massachusetts General was a very large, very modern, efficient hospital. Joel felt uncomfortable there anyhow. He hadn’t had much experience hanging around hospitals and was glad of it. He’d sweet-talked the nurse into allowing both of them into Will’s intensive-care unit cubicle, provided they didn’t disturb him. As he stood at the foot of Will’s bed, where the older man was hooked up to half a dozen monitors and tubes and machinery, he realized that no amount of rehearsal could prepare a person for the trauma of a life-death situation.
It was painful watching someone you cared about on the brink of death. Struggling with his emotions, Joel decided he didn’t want to think about his life without Will in it. He’d played a big part when Joel had been a child, serving as a surrogate for the father who was always working or away on business, and constantly critical when he was home. Will, like Bart, had never been that driven, that intense. Will should have had children, Joel had often thought, for he’d have made a marvelous father. Joel had been crazy about Emily, too.
It wasn’t fair, he thought, stepping a little closer to the bed. Good people shouldn’t be snatched from us before we’re ready to say goodbye. Yet he knew deep inside that the day would never come when he’d willingly bid his old friend farewell.
Joel looked at the frighteningly still form on the bed. Will was sleeping, his breathing a bit labored even with the oxygen cannula running beneath his nose. His normally ruddy cheeks were as devoid of color as the stark white pillowcase. Something was attached with tape to his neck with wires running beneath the sheet. A bloodpressure cuff on his arm tightened at regular intervals, the readout on the machine changing as it did.
A hell of a way for a man to be seen, Joel thought.
He shifted his gaze to Hannah, who’d pulled a chair close to the bed on the opposite side. The nurse had warned them that Will needed his rest, so they were both quiet. He’d seen Hannah struggle not to cry several times, her control over her emotions finally winning. But now he saw silent tears slide down her cheeks as she pressed her hand to her lips to keep from making a sound.
On the long flight home, she’d sat quietly staring out the window. She’d withdrawn, and he’d felt he should try to get her to talk about her feelings. He hadn’t had much success. All she’d told him was that she’d loved three men in her life. Both of the other two had left her. She couldn’t lose Will, too.
If it were possible to keep someone alive by sheer force of will, Hannah was going to do it. She didn’t touch him, didn’t want to wake him, didn’t say a word, but instead let her eyes speak for her. Maybe in that netherland where he’d gone, he could hear her, she thought. Maybe he knew she was here, helping him fight to stay alive.
The doctor had said the heart attack had been serious, but that he’d managed to get help quickly. The next twelve hours were critical. He had a chance, albeit not a very good one due to his age, his weight and the fact that he’d already suffered a mild heart attack two years ago. Will hadn’t told her about that one.
He couldn’t die, Hannah thought, he simply couldn’t. Not now when she’d uprooted herself and traveled hundreds of miles to be with him. He’d been the main reason for her move, to be with someone who w
as more like family than anyone else she knew. He was the reason she’d succeeded in law school, the driving force behind her need to excel. He was like the grandfather she’d never known.
Immediately, she felt contrite at thinking only of herself when Will was struggling to live.
“Please don’t die, Will,” she whispered softly. “I need you so much. We all do.” She bent her head and took his hand into hers, choking back the tears. “I’m so sorry I haven’t had you over for that dinner yet. You were going to bring the wine, remember? And you asked me to go ice fishing, but I turned you down. I want to go, Will. Please get better so we can go together.”
She bent her head in prayer. Please, God, don’t take still another person from me.
Joel swallowed around a lump in his throat, then walked over and placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. He couldn’t do anything but pray for Will. And he couldn’t do anything for Hannah except let her know he was there for her, as well.
It was eight in the evening. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
Hannah leaned back against the soft leather upholstery of Joel’s Mercedes. “Out of danger. The three most beautiful words I’ve heard lately, wouldn’t you say?”
“I agree.” Joel pulled out of the hospital parking lot and turned onto Charles Street. It was barely six in the morning, still dark out, the streetlights on.
Bone weary but enormously relieved, Hannah closed her eyes. She’d catnapped a little in the chair in the small waiting room next to the intensive-care unit, but she’d been too worried to really sleep. Now she felt tired but not really sleepy. “Are you sure we can trust Dr. Bailey?”
“Franklin Bailey is a well-known cardiologist, the best in the city. If he can’t call ‘em, who can?” Joel came to a decision and swung onto Embankment Road, heading for Beacon Hill.
“Marcie was pretty cute on the phone,” Joel said, recalling their conversation. He’d called from the hospital and told her not to expect either of them in the office today. She’d been with Will when they’d arrived, but noting her exhaustion, they’d sent her home. “She said, “Thank God he’s going to be all right. I’m too old to spend this much time on my knees praying.’ She also said she’d hold the fort while we got some rest.”
Hannah brushed back her hair, realizing she must look bedraggled from lack of sleep and from being in the same clothes for what seemed like days. “I’ve got so much I should do, but I don’t think I have the energy right now.”
“What you need is a good meal first and…”
“No, a shower first, then maybe something to eat.” Straightening, she glanced out the window. “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to my apartment.”
“You’re right. I’m taking you to my place, where I plan to fix you the best breakfast you’ve ever had.”
“Oh, Joel, I’d really rather just go home. I’m not very good company when I’m tired and…”
“No arguments, Red. If I don’t feed you, I know you won’t eat, and you can’t afford to lose more weight. Besides, the only meal I know how to make with pizzazz is breakfast. How does a cheese omelet and fresh coffee sound?”
Her stomach gurgled at the thought. “Pretty good, although I’m not sure I can handle more coffee.” They’d been drinking what passed for coffee from a -machine most of the night, which was probably why she felt a little wired. “You’ve been away. How do you know you have eggs and such in your apartment?”
“Because Bessie was there today. She’s worked for my mom for years and comes to my place once a week. She knew I was coming home and so she’s stocked the fridge. I leave money for her, and she shops when I get too busy. Bessie’s a sweetie and knows all my favorite foods.”
A maid who cleaned and shopped for him. Probably did his laundry, as well. Must be nice. “That’s great, but honestly, I can feed myself. I need a shower badly…”
“I’ve got a big bathroom with lots of towels.” He glanced over at her as he swung into the parking lot of his apartment building. “And I’ve got your suitcase in the back. You can clean up while I cook.”
Too exhausted to argue, Hannah gave in. “Such a deal. How can I refuse?”
She might have known his apartment would be wonderful. Ten stories up, with wide windows that looked out on the Charles River Basin. Big, comfortable furniture, warm woods, thick wool carpeting you all but sank into. Yet very masculine, using shades of blue from Wedgwood to navy, and browns from tan to rust. Finally, a bowl filled with yellow mums was on the entryway table. That had to be Bessie’s touch.
He’d given her the tour, then carried her bag into his bedroom, pointing out the connecting bath before making his way to the kitchen. She’d closed the door with a heavy sigh.
Such an intimate thing, taking a shower in someone else’s home. Her hair smelled of his shampoo, her skin wore the scent of his masculine soap. His towel was damp from her body. His fragrance was the one that lingered, exciting her senses.
She dressed in his room, unable to ignore his big kingsize bed with its navy quilt. How many women had he brought here? she wondered. None of her business, Hannah told herself as she pulled on the last clean thing in her bag, green sweatpants and shirt. Curiosity got the better of her, and she looked around, searching for the key to the man out there fixing her breakfast.
On his dresser was a framed snapshot of the Merrick clan—parents, kids, spouses, grandchildren and petstaken on a recent summer day at Hyannis. Standing next to his father, Joel looked unusually sober, or was he just squinting into the sun? Another photo was of a much younger Joel astride a black stallion, a big grin on his face. Probably taken in Montana on Bart’s ranch.
Brushing her hair, she wandered to his nightstand and found a Grisham novel and a black address book. Hannah smiled. What would she find in that? No, she wouldn’t snoop that far. Leaving her hair to air dry, she finished repacking her bag and left the bedroom.
“I’ve got everything ready to go,” Joel told her. “I’m just going to take a quick shower before I put it all together. Help yourself to orange juice in the fridge.” He left her there.
The juice was cold and tart and just right. Hannah carried it into the living room and stood looking out the windows. A cold and dreary day, but inside, it was warm and cozy. She swung around and checked a couple of titles in an overflowing bookcase, then walked over to turn on the stereo. Elton John came on, low and sad. She was just checking out the fireplace when Joel came back out.
She turned around, then stopped. He was barefoot, wearing a pair of gray drawstring pants and a white T-shirt, his black hair still wet from the shower and curling onto his forehead. Her breath backed up in her throat. He was beautiful.
Noticing her look, Joel frowned. “What?”
Hannah shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Why was her voice so husky? Oh, Lord, she never should have let him talk her into coming here. She’d been shocked emotionally by Will’s near-fatal heart attack and sleep deprived until she had no defenses left. And she needed plenty to deal with her chaotic feelings for Joel Merrick.
Following him into the kitchen, she decided she’d eat quickly and grab a cab home. They’d been together too much; that was all. She was, after all, a woman with normal needs that would surface at the most inconvenient times. That didn’t mean she’d act on them. Impolite though it was, she’d eat and run.
“Can I do anything?” she asked as he poured batter he’d already prepared into the omelet pan.
“Not a thing. Just sit down. Everything’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.” He slid the split bagels under the broiler. “Sure felt good to shower, didn’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Hannah poured herself a cup of coffee. She didn’t need more caffeine, but it might snap her out of this strange mood.
Joel placed small smoked sausages on a serving plate, then dished up hash browns. But his mind was on the woman sitting so nervously at his table. They’d spent a good deal of time together recently and had eve
n slept together twice, though not in the way he’d have liked to. He didn’t know if it was fatigue or jet lag or just her presence here in his home, where he’d pictured her many nights as he’d lain in his bed alone. But somehow, today, right now, his awareness of her, his need for her, was at the straining point.
And he could tell she was as affected as he.
In minutes, he had the rest of the meal on the table. He sat down opposite her. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“You made enough for a starving family of four.” He’d gone to so much trouble. She’d been hungry on the way over. What had happened to her appetite? It had been replaced by another kind of hunger, one that was making her edgy.
The fork fell from her hand onto the tabletop with a clatter. Embarrassed, she picked it up and sent him an apologetic smile. Terrific, now she was clumsy, too. She took a bite, found it wonderful and told him so.
“Thanks. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. Sometimes I have it for dinner.”
“Me, too. I guess people who live alone do that sort of thing.” Inane. Her comments were absolutely inane. Next thing, she’d begin babbling. She tore her bagel in half and took a bite, hoping to forestall that possibility.
Funny how his soap smelled different on her, Joel thought. The warm scent drifted to him, and his palms began to itch.
A safe topic—that’s what they needed, Hannah decided. “Do you think we should call the hospital and make sure Will’s still doing okay?”
“Sure, we can. I’ll call when we finish.”
“This omelet’s wonderful.” It really was. If only she were hungry.
“It’s the cheese. Dofino.”
“Ah, yes.” She couldn’t keep this up another minute. Slowly, she set down her fork. “Please don’t think me terrible, but I think it’s all caught up with me. I’m not so much hungry as tired.” She looked up, tried a smile. “Thanks so much for all this, but I really need to go home.”