Forever Grace (2 page)

“And being on your own out in the middle of nowhere seemed like a better idea how? You’re in a full leg cast and on crutches, Sean. What happens if you fall?”

“Then I imagine I’ll figure out a way to get up. Look, I’m not planning to go on any hikes, Gareth. I’m just going to read and nap and hang out in the hammock on the back deck. I’ll be fine.”

“You could have at least taken the nurse with you.”

“Are you nuts? Have Perky Pam at the cottage for three weeks with me? God, no.” Sean shuddered again, remembering the cheerfully efficient private nurse Gareth had insisted on hiring for him. Nice enough. Cute, even. But the woman had never stopped talking.
Ever.
He shook his head. “I’d have had to kill her, and that’s kind of frowned upon in my line of work.”

“So is stupidity, I would think.”

Sean eyed the path to the cottage once more, inclined to agree with Gareth but not about to tell him so. Especially when his gaze settled on what looked like awfully fresh bear scat just off the driveway. Great. Just freaking great.

“Gareth. I’m thirty-eight years old, I have my cell phone, and I’m a cop. If anything goes wrong, I’m pretty sure I can figure out what to do. Now, I know you’re used to getting your own way, being a Hollywood star and all —”

“Screw off.”

Sean grinned and continued as if he hadn’t heard, “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to get settled sometime before dark.”

“You really are annoying sometimes.”

“Back atcha, Connor.”

Gareth’s annoyed sigh echoed down the line. “Fine. Have it your way. But keep your cell phone on you at all times, and call me every couple of days so I at least know you’re still alive.”

“Anything else,
dad
?”

“Damn it, Sean—”

“I’m sorry,” Sean interrupted. He needed to get off this damned leg before it collapsed under him. Time to stop needling his cousin. “I know you’re worried, but I really am all right. They put the cast on yesterday, the incision has healed beautifully, and they said I handle the crutches like a pro. And yes, I’ll call every few days. You have my word. In the meantime, say hi to Gwyn and the kids for me, all right?”

“I still don’t like this,” Gareth muttered. “But fine. Just look after yourself.”

The connection went dead, and Sean slid the cell phone back into its clip on his belt. Then, the sweat of exertion already turning his shirt clammy, he took the duffel bag from beside the four bulging grocery sacks in the trunk, slung it across his back, and settled his crutches into his armpits for the first of several trips down the slope to the cottage.

WITH SAGE KEEPING ANNABELLE OUT
from under foot, and Lilliane and Joshua helping to carry groceries, Grace had the minivan emptied in short order after their jaunt into Perth. Spirits and energies had remained high all the way back to the cottage, possibly due to the sugar rush of their final stop. The ice cream had been an enormous hit all around, especially with Annabelle, who had delighted in smearing the cold confection over most of her body.

Grace glanced into the living room and grinned at the sight of quiet little Sage patiently trying to wipe the toddler’s sticky face as she sang, “This is the way we wash our face, wash our face, wash our face…”

“Aunt Grace?”

She looked down at Lilliane, whose arms strained under the bag of potatoes she carried. She shoved the cans of stew and ravioli she was holding onto the shelf, and relieved the eight-year-old of her load.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she said, smoothing her free hand over her niece’s dark hair. “You’re an amazing helper. You, too, Josh.”

Her nephew shrugged. “We’re a family,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Grace forced a smile and reached past him to flick on the kitchen light switch. The early evening gloom retreated. “You’re right. It
is
what we’re supposed to do. And now
I’m
supposed to make dinner, which is already late, and
you
are supposed to go and find something fun to do until it’s ready.”

Josh and Lilliane exchanged a glance.

“Ravioli again?” Lilliane asked with studied casualness.

Grace laughed. “How about I take another shot at the sausages and fried potatoes? I promise not to burn them this time.”

Another glance was exchanged.

“If you’re sure…” said Josh.

She ruffled his hair playfully. “I’m sure, smarty pants. Now go, before I change my mind and put you to work peeling potatoes.”

“Do you want me to do that for you? I can.”

Grace held back a sigh. “I was only kidding. You’ve done enough today, Josh. Now go find something
you
want to do.”

“Can I go next door to read?”

“Do you think you’ll have enough light?”

“Sunset isn’t for another half hour.”

“All right. Just make sure you’re listening for me when I call, and use the side door so Annabelle doesn’t see you leave.”

Joshua nodded agreement, picked up the book he’d left on the counter earlier, and slipped into the mudroom behind the kitchen. A few seconds later, Grace watched through the kitchen window as he disappeared along the path leading to the neighboring cottage, where he liked to go when he needed a break from all-female company.

Luc, her friend and lawyer who owned their cottage, had said his neighbor only put in an appearance during the summer months, so letting Josh hang out and read on the deck would be fine. She’d been a mess of nerves the first few times, hating that he was out of sight and reach, but now that their little family was settling into a routine, she’d begun to relax. It did Josh good to have the independence, and he was still near enough that he could hear her call to him.

And she could hear him if anything went wrong.

She opened the window a few inches, then turned and smiled at Lilliane. “You, too, kiddo. Go find something fun to do. You’re officially off duty.”

Too-serious brown eyes regarded her. “What about you, Aunt Grace? Are you ever off duty?”

Grace shrugged off thoughts of how bone-weary she was these days. She gave her niece a wink. “Didn’t you know? That’s what kids’ bedtimes are for. And cartoons. In fact, why don’t you put a cartoon on now? Something Annabelle likes, so she’ll leave you alone for a while.”

Lilliane rewarded her suggestion with a smile. “I’ll put on
Snow White
. It’s her favorite.”

“Lovely,” said Grace. Then, as her niece joined Annabelle and Sage in the next room, she took a paring knife from the drawer, slit open the bag of potatoes, and gritted her teeth in preparation for yet another onslaught of
Some Day My Prince Will Come.

Sean came awake to the screech of a blue jay outside his bedroom window. He listened to its scolding for a few minutes, a grin on his face. Noisy, yes. But it still beat the hell out of being roused from a nap by Perky Pam’s, “Wakey, wakey! If you keep sleeping now, you’ll never sleep tonight, you know!”

And Gareth had wanted him to bring her along to the cottage? Ha. Not in a million years.

Sean stretched leisurely. By the time he’d finished hauling the groceries in from the SUV, turned himself into a pretzel in order to get the cottage’s water supply back on, and finally been able to take the long-overdue painkillers, his leg had felt like someone had run it through a grinder. He was much relieved to find that sleep and medication had worked a small miracle to ease the discomfort.

First, because he really needed time to recuperate away from the well-meaning questions and concerns of so many. And second, having to admit to his cousin he’d made a mistake in coming here—or even worse, ask for a rescue—would
so
not have been cool. Gareth would have never let him live it down.

Flexing the foot of his injured leg, Sean gauged the pain level. Definitely better. Tolerable, even. And, judging by the deepening shadows in the bedroom, he’d slept a good three hours, which meant he could take another painkiller soon. He grinned again, feeling quite vindicated in his decision to make the trip out here. A couple of weeks of tranquility were exactly what he needed.

He levered himself upright, swung the cast off the bed, and reached for the crutches. In short order, he visited the facilities, took another capsule, and made himself a cup of tea in a spill-proof travel mug that he tucked into a pocket for transportation. He eyed the bottle of Scotch sitting on the counter as he passed by.

Soon, he promised himself. As soon as he was off the pills. Two days, maybe three, and he’d start cutting back. See if he couldn’t wean himself off them by the end of next weekend, so he could at least enjoy a good, stiff drink—his first since the weekend before getting in the way of that damned bullet.

For now, however, tea, his hammock—if he could manage to get into the thing without killing himself—and a lakeside evening would do quite nicely.

He flicked off the kitchen light switch, then traveled across the living room to the sliding glass door onto the wooden deck. Thud, swing. Thud, swing. He grimaced. Damned if he wasn’t getting the hang of this crutch thing. He flipped the lock on the door and slid it open, then maneuvered awkwardly through the gap—in time for a child’s angry wail to shatter the early evening silence.

Sean’s head shot up. He stared through the shadowed woods at the cottage next door, its partial outline visible through the leaves and gathering shadows. A
kid
? What in—

The scrape of a shoe against the deck caught his ear. He swiveled, teetered, regained his balance. He gaped at the boy who had frozen, half out of Sean’s hammock, eyes wide and terrified behind wire-framed glasses. For a long few seconds, neither of them moved. Sean recovered first, just as another screech echoed through the trees.

“Who the
hell
are you?” he snarled, thudding toward the boy. “And what in God’s name is that racket?”

The boy bolted from the hammock and dived past him, headed for the stairs. Sean threw out an arm to stop him. His fingers brushed against a nylon jacket but closed on air. One crutch fell away to land with a hollow thump on the wooden deck. Sean struggled for balance as the boy’s footsteps thundered down the stairs and onto the dirt path through the trees dividing the cottages. Sean’s free arm pinwheeled madly. He tipped forward. Back. Further forward. Then, losing the battle, he pitched full length onto the deck floor, white-hot agony tearing through his thigh.

“Son of a goddamn
bitch
,” he bellowed.

GRACE MET JOSHUA AT THE
cottage door, heart lodged in her throat. She grabbed his shoulders, stopping him in mid-flight, the roar of a man’s voice still echoing in her brain. “Josh? What happened? Who is that? Is it—?”

She broke off, glancing over her shoulder at the girls, clustered in the kitchen behind her. Pale, wide-eyed, silent. Even Annabelle had given up her tantrum, seeming to sense the sudden change in atmosphere. Grace swallowed hard and made an effort to pull her shredded nerves back together. She mustered a smile.

“It’s all right, girls,” she said. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Right, Josh?”

It had to be nothing, because the alternative was unthinkable. If Barry had found them, if he was out here with them in those woods, in the middle of nowhere—

“It’s not him,” Josh panted. “It’s someone else. I think he must own the other cottage. He startled me and I got scared. I ran.”

Relief turned Grace’s entire body to liquid, but somehow she managed to stay upright and pull her nephew into a fierce hug. “Of course you got scared,” she said. “I’d have been terrified if someone yelled at me that way. And you were right to run.”

Joshua shook his head against her, his nose scraping her collarbone. When had he grown so tall?

“No. He yelled after I left. His leg was hurt and he was on crutches. I think he fell.”

Grace pulled back, her gaze searching his. “Seriously?”

Guilt and lingering fear stared back at her from behind Josh’s glasses. He nodded. “I think so.”

“Shi—” Grace caught back the curse halfway through. She released her hold on her nephew and braced one hand on her hip, running the other through her hair. She forced herself to think past the instinct to pack up and flee. It wasn’t Barry, she reminded herself. And if Josh was right and it was the cottage owner, Luc had said he was a decent guy. Or seemed to be. Or—

She drew a steadying breath. Whatever. The bottom line was that she had no reason to panic. Yet. Not until she’d at least assessed the situation. She reached past Joshua for her jacket, hanging on one of the hooks by the door.

“All right. I’ll go over and make sure he’s all right. Josh, you can serve dinner for everyone. It’s on the stove keeping warm.” She flashed him a grin. “And no, I didn’t burn it.”

She shrugged into the jacket and lifted her hair free. Instructions poured from her mouth. “Lilliane, you set the table for Josh, and Sage, you keep Annabelle out of trouble until dinner is ready. Josh, make sure you cut Annabelle’s food up for her, all right? Do you think you can get her into her booster seat?”

Josh nodded, already stripping off his coat. “Aunt Grace, should I have gone back to help him?”

“No, sweetie, you were right to come and get me.” She ruffled his hair. “I’ll be back as quick as I can, but don’t worry if I’m gone for a little while. If you need me, just call and I’ll come running.”

“Even if you’re helping the man?” Lilliane asked.

“Or if you meet a bear?” Sage added.

“I’ll drop the man on his head if I need to. Or throw him at any bear that comes along.” Grace gave her nieces a wink that earned her a giggle in return. Then she turned to Josh and lowered her voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “You lock the door behind me, and if anyone comes but me, you know where my cell phone is. Luc’s number is in it. He’ll know what to do. Got it?”

“Got it.” Josh’s too-serious gaze met hers. He held out a flashlight. “It’s cloudy out there. It’ll be dark by the time you come back.”

Grace dropped a kiss on his forehead, took the flashlight, and smiled over her shoulder at the others before she stepped out the door into evening’s rapidly fading light.