Charity's Angel (6 page)

"Yes. But don't feel you have to. What happened was an accident. You weren't to blame. Besides, it isn't as if I'm stuck this way for life," she added with a forced smile.

Charity was torn between relief and regret when Gabe left. Regret because she didn't really expect to see him again. And relief because she didn't have to keep the happy face in place anymore—at least not until Diane and Brian came to visit in a few hours.

She watched the door close behind Gabe and closed her eyes against the sudden hot sting of tears. Tears she was determined wouldn't fall. She hadn't cried since waking up after surgery—not when they'd told her she'd been shot, and not when it had become obvious that she had no feeling in her legs.

Crying would be an admission that she was frightened. And if she was frightened, it would be an admission that she might never walk again. As long as she kept telling herself and everyone else that her paralysis was a temporary setback, she could keep from going completely crazy.

But sometimes, when she was alone, it was hard to keep the doubts at bay. There was nothing to keep her from staring at the lifeless lengths of her legs, wondering if she'd ever be able to feel them again.

Opening her eyes, Charity blinked to clear the tears from her vision. It was only natural that she'd have moments of doubt, she told herself. The important thing was to make sure that they didn't last. A positive mental attitude was vitally important to her recovery—that's what everyone said. If she heard it again, she was going to scream.

Fut one of the doctors or nurses with their cheerful smiles in this bed and take all the feeling from their legs and see how long they kept a positive mental attitude. No, that wasn't fair. They were just trying to help.

She sighed, turning her head to look at the roses Gabe had brought her. Their rich scent was already filling the room, making the air less sterile. She reached out and eased one fat blossom from the vase, lifting it to her nose.

She wondered if he'd meant it when he said he'd visit again. Probably not, but it had been nice of him to say it. The rose held against her cheek, she let her eyelids drift shut.

❧

In fact Gabe showed up the next day. Charity had been staring at the television mounted near the ceiling opposite her bed. But her interest in game shows was slight, to put it mildly. Diane had brought her a stack of books, but she could only read so many hours in the day. She was discovering that one of the worst things about being in the hospital was the boredom.

A small movement near the door drew her attention. She knew she had.to be going over the edge when even the thought of a technician taking another blood sample was a welcome diversion. But it wasn't a technician, and she felt her heart skip a beat when she saw Gabe's lean frame.

"Is the coast clear?" he hissed before she had a chance to say anything. Clear fpr what? She nodded and he disappeared back out the door. Her curiosity piqued, she dragged herself higher against the pillows, for once hardly noticing that her legs were unresponsive.

When he ducked back through the door, he was carrying a box. The flat white shape was unmistakable even if the rich scent of oregano and tomato hadn't already told her what he was carrying.

"Pizza!"

"Shh. If they catch me, there's no telling what they'll do to me. They might even make us share." He pushed the door shut with his foot. He set the box down on the rolling table at the foot of the bed and lifted the lid.

"You brought pizza." Charity's lowered voice was reverential.

Gabe grinned, pleased with her reaction. He'd had his doubts about the advisability of visiting her again. She'd said he was welcome but he hadn't quite believed her. He couldn't help but think that every time she saw him, it must be a reminder of what had happened. But there'd been nothing but welcome in her eyes.

"Pizza with the works, just like the lady ordered," he said. He reached into the sack he'd brought, coming up with two plates and a handful of napkins.

"It smells heavenly."

He lifted out a thick slice dripping with cheese and set it on a plate, which he handed to her with a flourish.

Charity picked the pizza up and bit into it, closing her eyes in ecstasy as the rich taste filled her mouth. Her tongue came out to catch a bit of sauce on her upper lip and Gabe was startled by a sudden flash of awareness.

He dropped his eyes, not wanting her to see what might be written there. He set a slice of pizza on a plate for himself, though he wasn't particularly hungry.

Careful, London
, he cautioned himself. The attraction he'd felt for Charity had to be put aside—one of those sweet, foolish dreams that wasn't meant to be. She might welcome his presence now when any distraction was welcome, but there'd come a time when he was only a reminder of a painful and frightening episode in her life. If that time came when she was walking again, he'd bow out of her life without regrets.

He suppressed the doubting voice that suggested that the regrets were likely to be fierce and hard to shake off.

"Something wrong with your pizza?" Charity's question brought Gabe's head up to meet her quizzical expression.

"I always consider the first bite very carefully," he told her condescendingly. "There's an art to these things."

"Of course there is," she agreed. "And the most important aspect is how fast you can eat. Otherwise, someone else gets more. Another slice, please, gargon." Grinning, she handed him her empty plate.

Gabe pushed away the uneasiness he felt and settled down to a serious competition. At the moment the most important thing was to see her smiling.

"I cant believe that guy had the nerve to visit you!" Brian Williams scowled at his youngest sister, who returned-the look calmly. It was a source of unending wonderment to her that this certified genius who was revolutionizing the computer industry had a temper more suited to a guard dog.

There was none of the stereotypical computer nerd about Brian. No glasses, no hump-shouldered posture from too many hours at a keyboard, no ink stains on his shirt pocket. He actually looked more like an athlete, which he was, than a computer whiz.

"I don't see any reason why Gabe shouldn't visit," Charity said calmly.

"No reason?" Brian's blue eyes expressed his amazement. "Would you explain it to her?" he appealed to Diane and then gave Charity the explanation before Diane could say anything. "The man shot you. It's his fault you're in here. His fault you can't walk."

"Temporarily," Charity corrected, her voice tight. "Temporarily can't walk."

Brian paused, realizing how tactless his words had been. "Of course it's temporary," he said gruffly. "But that's not the point."

"No it isn't," Charity agreed. "Even if the paralysis were permanent, it still wouldn't be Gabe's fault. You weren't there, Brian. You don't know what the situation was. He risked his life to keep those men from shooting any of the hostages."

"Yeah, right. So they didn't shoot them. He did," Brian said with heavy sarcasm.

"It was an accident. I've told you that before. I'm the one who got in the way. If I'd stayed where I was, this wouldn't have happened."

"You were trying to save that woman's life," Brian said, leaping to her defense.

"And he was trying to save all our lives.'' She lifted her hand when he would have continued. "I don't want to hear any more about it, Brian. I know you're worried about me and I appreciate it, but I like Gabe and if he wants to visit, he's welcome."

Brian shut his mouth with an audible snap, glaring at her. Charity returned the look calmly. After a moment he looked away, muttering something about stubborn women and people who didn't know what was good for them.

"I'm going to get a cup of that stuff they call coffee," he announced abruptly. Charity watched him leave the room and turned to look at Diane.

"Don't start," she warned. "There's nothing wrong with Gabe coming to see me."

"Of course not, Char." But Diane's beautiful eyes showed her concern. "We just don't want to see you hurt. After all, Mom and Dad aren't here and we're the only family you've got."

"If you're trying to tell me that Mom and Dad wouldn't approve of Gabe, I don't buy it. Mom would have baked him some of her inedible whole-wheat oatmeal surprise cookies and Dad would want to know his opinion of teaching Latin in high school."

"Probably," Diane admitted, smiling reluctantly. The truth was, their parents had never met anyone they didn't approve of. They could have found something good in Jack the Ripper.

"It wasn't Gabe's fault," Charity said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I know. I really do," she emphasized, catching Charity's disbelieving look. "I just worry that...well, you've got to admit you're sort of vulnerable right now." She spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. "I don't want to see you hurt, Charity. Neither does Brian."

"You think I might be reading too much into Gabe's visits?" Unconsciously Charity reached for the teddy bear Gabe had brought only that afternoon, saying he'd thought the bear looked like it needed some company. She kneaded her fingers in the soft, dark fur.

"This is the guy you mentioned the day before. . .before this happened." Diane's graceful gesture encompassed Charity's useless legs. "When we were having tea and I was bugging you about not dating. You said there was a man you found attractive. I remember the name, Gabriel London."

Charity frowned, trying to remember the conversation. That quiet afternoon seemed a hundred years ago. Yes, she remembered mentioning Gabe, but it had been just in passing. He'd popped into her head for some reason when Diane was urging her to date more.

"Just because I mentioned him, said he was attractive, doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to think the man is in love with me," Charity protested. "I know he's only visiting because he feels guilty."

"I'm sure he likes you," Diane protested.

"Sure he does. That's my problem, remember? Men always like me." Charity rolled her eyes to show that it didn't bother her a bit. "The only reason he isn't telling me about his girlfriend is because he feels sorry for me."

"Does he have a girlfriend?" Diane asked, and Charity knew she was hoping he did. If Gabe was already involved, there'd, be less chance of her getting hurt.

"I'm sure he does." She shrugged, ignoring the small ache the idea brought to her heart. "A man like Gabe isn't likely to be running loose." She plucked restlessly at one stuffed ear, wishing Diane would stop looking at her with that worried expression.

She wasn't a child who still believed in fairy tales. She knew perfectly well that once she was walking again, Gabriel London would walk right out of her life. But in the meantime, there was nothing wrong with enjoying his company. He made her laugh. These days, that counted for quite a lot.

It wasn't as if she were going to do something stupid ... like fall in love with him.

❧

"You cant go back to your apartment, Char. Be reasonable."

Gabe paused outside Charity's room. In the week he'd been visiting, he hadn't run into her sister or her brother, but it looked as if that was about to change.

"I don't see why not," Charity said, and Gabe wondered if it was his imagination that put an audible strain in her voice.

"How about the fact that there's a flight of stairs leading up to it? You can't manage those in a... in a wheelchair." Diane stumbled over the word.

Gabe winced at the mental image of Charity in a wheelchair. His hands clenched into fists in the pockets of his light jacket. There was still no feeling in her legs. The doctor claimed that it was just a matter of time. Her body had taken a tremendous, shock, it needed time to heal. She couldn't be impatient.

Easy to say if you weren't the one facing a wheelchair, Gabe thought fiercely. It wasn't right that Charity should suffer like this. It was his mistake, his misjudgment that had put her there. If he'd just shot a split second sooner or later...

"Since I don't plan on going anywhere, I don't see that it matters." Gabe dragged his attention back to the conversation on which he was eavesdropping.

"You can't just shut yourself up in that apartment," Diane protested.

"Well, I'm not likely to be taking any long trips anytime soon," Charity pointed out, her voice beginning to sound a little ragged around the edges.

It was the sound of that stress that brought Gabe into the room. He'd gotten to know her in the past few days. He'd admired her determined cheerfulness even while he wondered what it cost her to smile when she must be screaming with fear and anger inside. He couldn't stand to hear the strain in her voice that said she was close to losing that control.

"Hi. Not interrupting, am I?" Both women turned to look at him as he pushed open the door. The brother wasn't there, he saw at a glance. A man the size of Brian Williams would be a little hard to overlook.

"Gabe." Charity's smile told him she was grateful for the interruption. "I thought you said you wouldn't be able to get in today."

"Well, there was a break I hadn't expected so I thought I'd drop by."

"I'm glad you did. I don't think you know my sister, Diane. Diane, this is Gabriel London."

"Actually, we've met," Gabe said, his eyes meeting Diane's and seeing the uneasiness there.

"You did?" Charity glanced at her sister, surprised that Diane hadn't mentioned meeting Gabe. "When?"

"The night you were brought in," Diane said. "Gabe was in the waiting room. With a friend of his," she added. "A very pretty woman."

Gabe wasn't sure just what the glance she threw Charity was meant to convey, but he didn't want Charity to get the wrong idea about Annie.

"My partner," he said easily. "She and her husband are friends of mine, as well." That should clear up any lingering impression that Annie was more than a friend, he thought. Though why it should seem important, he couldn't have said.

"Oh." The flat syllable could have meant anything, but Gabe had the feeling Diane Williams didn't like hearing that Annie was nothing but a friend, and a married one at that. He could ponder the reasons she might feel that way later.

"I thought I heard you talking about going home," he said to Charity. "Are they releasing you?"

"In a couple of days. There's really no reason for me to stay in the hospital. It's just a matter of waiting now. I can do the physical therapy as an out patient."

"Are you going back to your apartment?"

"She can't. There's about a thousand stairs leading up to her apartment. Maybe you can make her see reason," Diane said, willing to apply to any port in a storm.

"I'm not coming to stay with you," Charity told her, irritated. "The carpets in that apartment are about six inches thick. If I have to learn to use a damned wheelchair, I'm not going to do it on those carpets."

"I'll tear the stupid things up."

"I'm sure your landlord would love that. Besides, quite frankly, a week of living with you and we'd be at each other's throats. I love you dearly, Diane, but you are not my idea of a great roommate."

"I have a cleaning service," Diane said huffily.

"No cleaning service in the world could keep up with you." Charity reached out and caught her older sister's hand. "I really do appreciate the offer, but I need peace and quiet right now and those are not things I associate with you."

Diane looked as if she wanted to argue but couldn't. "Well, fine then. Don't stay with me. But you'll go back to your apartment and shut yourself in like a hermit over my dead body."

"I don't want to be a hermit," Charity said. "But it's the most practical arrangement. When Brian gets back from Europe, he can help me get upstairs and then he can take me to physical therapy a couple of times a week. He might as well use those muscles for something besides lifting barbells."

"I don't like it," Diane said sullenly.

"I don't, either." It was obvious that they'd forgotten Gabe's presence, from the surprised expressions they turned on him.

"Don't you start," Charity wailed in exasperation.

He shrugged. "Sorry. But I don't think it's a good idea. An apartment whose access is only by stairs is dangerous. What if there was a fire?"

"Exactly," Diane said in triumph, glad to have an argument Charity couldn't dismiss.

"Do you have a better idea," Charity asked sarcastically.

"Actually I do. You can move in with me."