Driftwood Cottage (16 page)

She studied him with a narrowed gaze. “Are you trying to warn me away?”

“No, indeed. Just alerting you to the danger. Don’t count on Mom protecting you, either. She’s almost as bad as he is.”

“Your mother and I have an understanding,” she said confidently.

Connor laughed. “Don’t count on it. She’s been lulling you into a false sense of complacency. I’m just discovering that she’s almost as much of a master manipulator as Dad is.”

“Then I suppose we’re in for an interesting test of wills,” Heather said. Oddly enough, she realized she was looking forward to it.

And
that
was probably a huge mistake.

Connor had been wrong about it being a quiet evening. When he got back to the house, Gram was in the kitchen with his mother, his nieces were in the den with his dad, and everyone else started turning up one or two at a time until the place was chaotic. Though he was momentarily thrown, he realized this was one of the benefits of moving back home. He’d missed these impromptu gatherings, and now they’d be a regular part of his life again. Before, he’d been the visiting brother or uncle. Now he was in the thick of things again.

“What time will Heather be here?” his mother asked.

“Six-thirty,” Connor told her, only to have Trace give him an amused look.

“Not wasting any time, are you?”

“Meaning?”

“Just that things should always start the way you intend them to continue. Draw Heather into the fold from the get-go.”

“Inviting her was Mom’s idea,” Connor told his brother-in-law.

Trace merely laughed. “It might have been her idea,
but you obviously made no attempt to talk her out of it. In fact, you’re the one who issued the actual invitation, am I right?”

“Yes,” Connor said, then scowled. “What’s your point?”

“Everyone in this family seems to see the handwriting on the wall except you,” Trace explained patiently. “Have you even admitted that you’re making this move because you can’t live without her?”

“I’m making this move because I want a different kind of lifestyle,” Connor insisted. “I want to live in a small, friendly community again. I want to be around my family, though right at this moment, I have to wonder why.”

Trace laughed, then glanced toward the door as Heather walked in with little Mick. Connor followed the direction of his gaze and couldn’t seem to tear his own gaze away. Just a glimpse of her was enough to take his breath away. Apparently she caught him staring, because the smile on her face died.

“I rest my case,” Trace said, nudging him in the ribs to get his attention. “You’re a goner, man. Admit it and get on with your life.”

“I’ve never denied being crazy about her,” Connor said defensively as he watched her mingling with his family. And then she moved on to somewhere beyond his view.

Trace rolled his eyes. “Marriage is just a piece of paper, right? How many times have we all heard you say that? If it’s so damned insignificant, then why are you fighting so hard to avoid signing it? That piece of paper is your ticket to happiness.”

Connor wished he could believe that was all it was. Too often, though, it was a surefire path to misery. Passion
turned to hatred. Children suffered. And nothing any of these happily-ever-after relatives of his said was going to convince him otherwise.

Trace gave him a knowing look, as if he could read his mind. “Unless you think Abby and I, Jake and Bree and your folks are all doomed,” he said slyly.

Connor didn’t deny it.

“Well, your sisters and your parents might take exception to that,” Trace told him. “Hell, I take exception to it. Abby and I have our moments, but most of the time we are blissfully happy. If I could get her to slow down long enough to add to our family, I think our lives would be close to perfect.”

“Look, you know I wish you all nothing but the best,” Connor told him. “I hope your marriages last forever. I just think the odds are against it.”

“So it’s better not even to try?” Trace asked.

“That’s the way I see it,” Connor insisted, though he couldn’t deny a moment of envy when Abby came over and wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist and gave him a smoldering kiss. Across the room, Jake was bending over Bree, checking on the two-week-old baby girl in her arms, his expression filled with awe, especially since they’d been half convinced they were having a son. Connor recalled feeling exactly like that when he and Heather had brought their son home from the hospital. Her pregnancy with little Mick had happened by accident. Knowing there’d never be another one filled him with unspeakable sorrow.

“I need some air,” he said suddenly to no one in particular, then walked outside.

To his dismay, he found Heather on the porch. In his
current mood, it was more temptation than he could resist.

Before he could think about what he was doing or why, he tucked a finger under her chin and kissed her, just a quick graze of his lips across hers. She blinked at him in confusion.

“What was that about?” she asked, a hitch in her voice.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t do it again,” she said, rubbing at her lips as if to wipe away the feel of his mouth on hers.

“Probably not,” he agreed, then met her gaze. It was doubtless a bad idea to admit right now that he was lying. Wise or not, there were going to be more kisses if he had his way. And one of these days very soon, he was going to have to figure out just where he intended them to lead.

Having Connor back in town was not going to be easy, Heather concluded a few weeks after the welcome-home dinner that had turned into a major celebration. Oh, the dinner itself had been fine, no more uncomfortable than all the other O’Brien family occasions to which she’d been invited. It was the kiss that had left her shaken and confused.

She hadn’t wanted to feel the surge of hope that welled up inside because she knew better than anyone that a mere kiss meant nothing. As for the move, it might not be anything more than just that, a relocation to Connor’s hometown. Not an hour went by that she didn’t dissect the meaning of it all or stare dreamily out the window
thinking about the feel of his lips on hers. She was clearly out of her mind. Nothing had really changed.

Still, in the three weeks he’d been back, Connor had been finding more and more excuses to spend time with her and little Mick. There’d even been another stolen kiss or two, not the kind that had once taken her breath away, but the kind that stirred her senses and filled her with longing just the same. Her protests had been ignored, most likely because they hadn’t been very convincing. She had no idea what any of it meant.

As a result, though, she’d been more distracted than usual. Laila and Connie had called her on it more than once. It was a good thing she had only to walk downstairs to get to work, because heaven knew where she’d wind up if she had to drive.

Today, though, with the quilt shop closed for the day, she had to head over to one of the big box discount stores to pick up everything from detergent and junior baby food to diapers and toilet paper. She’d left little Mick next door at the gallery with Megan and promised to be back in a couple of hours.

She’d chosen a lousy day to make the trip. It had been pouring rain most of the morning, which made visibility on the winding road even worse than usual. She was tense behind the wheel, clutching it tightly as she watched for oncoming headlights. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to driving on these narrow, two-lane country roads. Give her a traffic jam on the interstate any day.

Worse, there was a car behind her. Though for once the driver didn’t seem to be impatient about her cautious pace, she kept glancing in her rearview mirror as well as ahead, which just added to the tension.

Then, not even five miles out of town, she rounded a curve in the road to see another car coming straight at her in the wrong lane. Intuitively, she swerved to avoid a collision, but on the narrow road there was no place to go. Her tires skidded on the gravel shoulder, then lost traction as the car veered wildly off the road.

Everything seemed to move in slow-motion after that. Though she jammed on the brakes, the car kept moving, skidding across the soaked ground directly toward the trees that lined the roadway.

Panicked, she knew a crash was inevitable. Her last thoughts were of her son and Connor. A prayer that she’d see them again.

She barely heard the sickening crunch of metal as she crashed into a tree, then careened into a second one. The airbag deployed with astonishing force.

The pain was nearly blinding. Her head. Her leg. Her chest. She hurt everywhere.

And then, blissfully, nothing.

I
t was midweek of his third week back in Chesapeake Shores and Connor was arranging law books in his new office, when Mick walked in. Connor studied his father with concern. Not only had he apparently gone out in the pouring rain without an umbrella, but Mick’s expression was more somber than Connor had ever seen it except during those awful days when his mother had first left home. He stopped what he was doing and crossed the room.

“Dad, what’s wrong? You shouldn’t be walking around in weather like this. You’re soaking wet.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, but I think you need to sit down,” Mick said, though he was the one who looked as if he might pass out.

Connor’s entire body seemed to go numb at the dire expression on his father’s face and the gloomy tone of his voice. “What’s happened? Is it little Mick?”

Mick shook his head and put a hand on Connor’s shoulder, as if to brace him for what was to come. “It’s Heather, son. There’s been an accident.”

Connor’s knees buckled as he tried to make sense of
what his father was telling him. It was eleven o’clock in the morning. She should be at work. What kind of accident could she have in a quilt shop, for heaven’s sake? “I don’t understand. Did she fall off a ladder or something like that?”

“She was in her car, Connor. She skidded off the road and hit a tree. The roads are slick today because of the rain, but I don’t know if that had anything to do with it or not. Kevin didn’t mention that.”

“Kevin? What does he have to do with this?”

“I’ll explain in the car,” Mick said. “We need to go.”

Connor tried to sort through what his father was telling him, but the words just didn’t make any sense. Individually he recognized them, of course, but he couldn’t seem to grasp the implication. His father regarded him with sympathy.

“Are you okay?” he asked as Connor suddenly sank onto the closest chair. “Want me to get you some water? Or maybe Joshua has something stronger in his office. I’m sorry to come in here and just blurt this out, but we need to get on the road.”

Connor shook his head to clear it. “I don’t need anything. I’m fine,” he insisted. “Is she…?” He couldn’t make himself complete the question. He settled for asking, “Where is she?”

“She’s at the hospital now, but we need to get there fast. Trace is waiting outside to drive us. Your mother and sisters will meet us there. Gram’s going to look after little Mick.”

The rallying of the troops scared Connor as much as anything. Tears welled up in his eyes. “She’s going to be
okay, right? They said she’ll be okay? Come on, Dad, don’t sugarcoat this. I need to know what to expect.”

“Let’s just go,” Mick said, urging him toward the door. “I’ll tell you everything I know on the way to the hospital.”

Outside, Trace was waiting for them, the motor running. He gave Connor a quick sympathetic glance, then focused on driving. Connor felt as if he were going to crawl right out of his skin unless he got answers fast.

“Dad, talk to me. What the hell happened?”

“Kevin happened to be on his way to work. He was on the road right behind her. He said some driver coming from the other direction on the two-lane road swerved into their lane. It was right out at that curve by Miller’s Creek. I’ve been complaining for years about it being a blind spot, but the state’s done nothing about it. Heather apparently didn’t see the car till the last second. She tried to avoid a collision, skidded off the road and hit a couple of trees.”

“Oh my God,” Connor whispered, envisioning it all. How could this be happening, especially now, when they had a real chance to work things out? “Did Kevin say…?” He swallowed hard. “Did he say if she’s going to be okay? Come on, Dad. He knows this kind of stuff. He must have said something.”

Mick avoided the question. “Just concentrate on the fact that your brother was right there on the scene. She had a trained EMT with her starting treatment even before the ambulance arrived. You know your brother, Connor. He has years of experience with trauma injuries. There’s no question, he did everything he could.”

All Connor heard was what his father hadn’t said. The
evasion hung in the air until he couldn’t stand it another second. “Dammit, Dad, is she going to live or not?”

Mick shook his head, his expression helpless. “I don’t know, son. I just don’t know.”

And with those words, Connor knew that his life could very well be changing forever. “Please give me another chance,” he prayed silently. “Please, God. I’ll do it her way this time. I’ll get down on my knees, propose, the whole nine yards. Just let her be okay.”

He remembered how Kevin had barely gone through the motions of living when Georgia, Davy’s mom, had died in Iraq. He doubted he’d be any better at being a single dad than his brother had been during that terrible time.

“My son needs his mother,” he whispered.

“I know, Connor,” his father said, giving his hand a squeeze. “The whole family’s praying that he’ll have her for years to come. That you both will.”

But even with Mick’s reassurance and as he himself prayed, Connor wondered if after all the church services he’d missed, the mistakes he’d made, God would even hear him.

At the hospital, they found Kevin and the rest of the family in the emergency waiting room. Connor went straight to his brother. Thanks to his EMT experience and his tour of duty in Iraq, Kevin, as Mick had said, knew trauma injuries as well as any doctor around. Moreover, he’d be brutally honest about what lay ahead.

Connor stood in front of him and held his gaze. “How bad is it, Kev?”

Kevin returned his gaze unblinkingly. “Bad,” he said quietly.

Connor tried to hold back a gasp of dismay, but a sob seemed to be wrenched from somewhere deep inside him. Kevin nudged him into a chair, then hunkered down in front of him.

“Tell me,” Connor pleaded.

“She has a pretty severe head injury, more than likely a grade three concussion since she was unconscious. Maybe worse,” he told Connor, his tone straightforward. “I was focused on trying to get the bleeding to stop, but she probably has a couple of cracked ribs from the airbag, and it looked as if her right leg got jammed under the dashboard. I’m pretty sure there were breaks in her tibia and fibula, just below her knee. I didn’t try to move her. I didn’t want to make anything worse. There’s no way I could tell about internal injuries. Her pulse…” He shook his head. “It wasn’t good, Connor, but the EMTs took her vitals and said she was hanging in there during the ride over here.”

“Was she conscious?”

“In and out for a couple of minutes, then unconscious.”

Connor nodded. “What’s happening now?”

“The trauma docs are assessing her, probably taking a CT scan or an MRI of her head. I imagine she’ll be in surgery before long, once they can prioritize which injuries they need to focus on first and determine if any of her internal organs were injured.”

Connor stood up. “I need to see her. Where is she?” He spotted the double doors to the treatment area and headed in that direction. Kevin stepped in front of him.

“Don’t,” his brother commanded. “You’ll only be in the way back there.”

Connor just walked right past him. “There are things I have to say, things she needs to hear in case…” He couldn’t bring himself to complete the thought.

Before he could push his way through the doors, Megan appeared at his side. “Connor, sweetheart, listen to your brother. There will be plenty of time for you to say all the things you want to say,” she assured him. “Let the doctors do their job. Right now, saving Heather’s life is the only thing that matters.”

Mick joined them. “Why don’t you and I go for a walk?” he suggested, putting his arm around Connor’s shoulders.

“I’m not leaving here,” Connor said, regarding all of them with defiance. “Not until we have answers, not until I’ve seen Heather for myself.”

“I’m not suggesting we go far, just get some air,” Mick coaxed. “You need to hold it together for Heather and for your son. We could be here a while. Someone will come for us if anything changes, right, Kevin?”

“Absolutely,” Kevin said. “I’ll get you myself.”

Connor didn’t want to leave, but sitting around in this cold room filled with plastic chairs and frantic people would only increase his anxiety.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” he murmured and followed his father into the courtyard outside. He paced for a few minutes, but the frustration of not having any real information finally got to him.

“Dammit, I need answers,” he said.

“And you’ll have them,” Mick promised. He settled onto a concrete bench, then patted the spot beside him.
“Come on and sit here beside me.” When Connor had complied, Mick met his gaze. “Did you know what a difficult time your mother had the night you were born?”

Connor blinked at the information. “What are you talking about? I never heard anything about that.”

“You were a breech birth, and it wasn’t going well. I was in the delivery room, freaking out, and then they made me leave. I thought I was going to go out of my mind waiting for information. Your uncles sat out here with me, trying to convince me that everything was going to be fine, but that was just a bunch of words. After all, what did they know? Thomas had never fathered a child, and Jeff only had Susie back then. I swear that kid popped out like she was in a hurry. Not a bit of trouble. Susie’s birth was just as easy as Abby’s, Kevin’s and Bree’s. I should have known that night what a handful you were going to be.”

Connor felt the faint curve of a smile on his lips. “Susie hasn’t changed much. She’s still in a hurry, and she’s never caused anyone even a moment’s grief.” His smile widened. “Except maybe Mack.”

“Yeah, those two are quite a pair, aren’t they?” Mick said. “What’s with spending every spare second together and still swearing they’re not dating?”

“They’re both delusional, that’s all,” Connor said.

Mick shook his head. “Crazy, if you ask me. Anyway, my point is that waiting around when someone you love is injured or ill may be one of the toughest things you’ll ever have to do, but you get through it, son, because you have to. People are counting on you to be strong. Heather needs that. So does your son.”

“I know,” Connor said, dragging his hand through his
hair. “I’m just no damn good at waiting. I need to be doing something.”

“Then how about this,” Mick suggested quietly. “You need to think about calling Heather’s family. They’d want to be here.” Before Connor could tell him to forget it, Mick held up his hand. “Look, I know there have been some differences there, but we’re talking about her mother and father. They have to know what’s happened. It’s only right.”

“Heather wouldn’t want them running over here acting all concerned after the way they’ve rejected her and our son,” Connor protested. “And frankly, they’ll be none too pleased to hear the sound of my voice.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mick insisted. “At times like this, families put differences aside. Whatever they decide, you need to do the right thing and at least give them the option of being here for their daughter. I can have Ma or Megan call them, if you don’t want to. Just give me a phone number.”

Connor thought about what his father was saying and deep down, he knew the call had to be made. He also knew he had to be the one to make it.

“I’ll do it,” he said eventually.

“You have their number?” Mick asked.

Connor nodded. “It’s in my cell phone. You go on back with the others. I’ll call and be there in a minute. If you find out anything, if the doctor turns up, come and get me.”

“Or I can wait with you,” Mick offered.

“No, I swear I’ll make the call. You don’t have to stand over me the way you did when I slugged Timmy Frost
and you made me call to apologize and stood right there until I did it.”

Mick smiled. “Don’t think I didn’t figure out that you were holding down the disconnect button the whole time,” he said.

Drawn out of his despair by the memory, Connor laughed. “You knew?”

“Of course. I’d have done the same thing. Why do you think I drove you over to Timmy’s house right afterward and made sure you actually spoke to him face-to-face?”

“I thought that was just part of my punishment,” Connor admitted. “It was humiliating.”

“You learned your lesson, though, didn’t you?” He squeezed Connor’s shoulder. “Now make that call. I’ll be inside.”

Connor paced around the small courtyard, ignoring the patients and family members sitting on the benches on the pleasant morning. He dreaded making this call, not just because of the news he had to impart, but because he feared Bridget and Charles Donovan wouldn’t react as loving parents, but as the two judgmental people who’d hurt Heather so deeply.

Finally, knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer, he placed the call. The phone rang several times before Bridget Donovan picked up.

“Mrs. Donovan, this is Connor O’Brien,” he said, then heard her gasp of dismay. “Please don’t hang up. There’s something you need to know. It’s about Heather.”

“What about her?” she asked, the question tentative. “We haven’t spoken in months.”

“I know that, but it doesn’t really matter right now.
She’s been in an accident. She’s in the hospital over here in Maryland. I’m still waiting for word on how serious her injuries are, but it’s not good. I just thought you and Mr. Donovan should know.” He hesitated, then added, “If you want to fly over, I can make the arrangements and have someone pick you up at the airport.”

“She won’t want us there,” she said, sounding sad.

“Right now, all that matters is that she be surrounded by everyone who loves her,” Connor said. “Please, come. I know you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“It’s…it’s that serious?” she asked in a choked whisper.

“It is,” he said. “Please, come.”

“We’ll drive,” she said decisively. “In the end, that will be faster than trying to arrange for a flight. I doubt I could get Charles on a plane, anyway, not even for this. Tell me where you are.”

Connor filled her in. “Do you have a cell phone?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said and gave him the number.

“I’ll call you the minute I know anything more,” he promised. “And you take down my number in case you have any questions or need directions or anything.”