She wasn’t completely sure that she loved him. Only that she didn’t want to. No matter what, she couldn’t imagine anything permanent in their future. When he left for the last time, she’d smile him on his way or die trying. Even if her heart left with him.
Maybe this break would give her time to sort through her feelings and get her equilibrium back. But his departure left her more unsettled instead of less. If only he weren’t flying.
A breeze drifted through the screen and pulled her toward the window. She craned her neck in search of a plane, but nothing except fluffy white clouds filled the vivid blue sky.
After checking on David again, she made a low-voiced call. At the other end of the line, Gran fretted over the fire at the cabin and expressed concern for David and Clay. Gracie asked if she could get along without her for a while.
“Of course, dear. David and Clay need you more than I do today.”
“What about Granddad? Since I took the truck this morning and left your car at the cabin last night, you don’t even have a ride to the hospital.”
“Dylan volunteered to take me to the car when he goes to meet the insurance investigator.”
“He’s still there?” Maybe he wasn’t going to leave after all. Stop that, she ordered her racing heart. Of course, he was leaving.
“He brought his bags down earlier, but hasn’t left yet. He said he had to make some phone calls first.”
She tried to swallow her disappointment, but it stuck in her throat like a fish bone.
“I’ll stall your grandfather as long as I can, but if you aren’t at the hospital by noon, I’ll send for the ambulance.”
“He won’t like that,” Gracie warned.
“No, but he’ll be so glad to leave the hospital that he’d let me roll him home like a bowling ball if I need to.”
Gracie smiled, imagining the sight as she replaced the receiver, but her smile disappeared as David’s agitation returned. She checked the time. Too soon to re-administer the sedative.
When he spoke, he slurred his words. “Is it true? Did they find Lana this morning?” Reaching for Gracie, his fingers gripped her wrist.
“Yes,” she said in a calm voice.
With each labored breath, he shrank a little more. “Where’s Clay?”
“He’ll be back soon.” She leaned closer to him. “Is there something you want? Anything I can do?”
“No, no.” Distress marched across his features. “I wanted to tell him... I should have done something.”
She made shushing sounds. “It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t anything you could have done to prevent it.”
“I should have told someone.” His head thrashed from side to side. “She made me promise not to tell, but I should have anyway.”
“David, please.” Taking his wrist, she checked his pulse. “You know Lana wouldn’t have wanted you to break a confidence. You couldn’t do that, as a doctor or a friend.”
“But if I told the police chief about the baby…” His breathing labored again. “He’d have questioned Matthew. When he died the next week… It was already too late.”
Baby? Lana was pregnant when she died? With her heart pounding, she froze, hoping he’d reveal more. Hoping he wouldn’t. Resuming the soothing noises that comforted him, Gracie straightened his covers and smoothed his limp silver hair from his forehead. But her brain had stalled at the startling announcement.
Dylan didn’t want to believe his father had indulged in a fling with Clayton’s mother. He’d be devastated to discover the affair had lasted for years. Her heart hurt for him just thinking about it.
David continued to mutter and argue with himself until he drifted into another fitful sleep. Gracie considered telling Clay when he came back. Surely it was David’s place to tell him, not hers. If the old man seemed stronger, less distressed later, maybe they could tell Clay together. But that seemed unlikely.
The decision was taken out of her hands by the arrival of Ethel Brady. “Clay sent me to sit with the doctor. He said you’d be reluctant to leave, but he told me where to find David’s heart medication and the sedative, so you can leave him in my hands.”
Gracie remained planted. “He’s been rambling. Talking out of his head.”
The nurse moved around the room with the precision of a drill sergeant. “I’ve sat by bedsides plenty of times. I know when to listen to a patient and when to ignore one. And I also know your grandmother could use some help today. Did you know Chester’s been released from the hospital?” Ethel took Gracie’s arm and escorted her to the door. “You run along now.”
Only in East Langden did anyone still treat Gracie like a ten-year-old. She found herself on the porch outside without having a chance to argue the point further.
Dylan propped his back against Gracie’s door, stretched his legs out in front of him, and waited for her to return. The door was unlocked and he could go inside, but it was a gorgeous day. He had plenty to think about, and after talking to the authorities at the cabin all afternoon, he smelled about as bad as he had after the fire. Better to wait on the landing than invade her apartment without invitation.
He should be long gone. But during a phone conversation where he brought Uncle Arthur up to speed on the details about the cabin, insurance claims, the recovered bones, and local speculation about Lana, he’d realized he didn’t want to leave Gracie or East Langden at all.
Not even to go to the NBA finals. Not even to see his best friends. Or his sister. Or his former girlfriend. He especially didn’t want to see Maya Griffin again.
With his next phone call, he’d told Gilmore to take the tickets and enjoy himself. The Brotherhood told him to enjoy himself, even though they gave him a predictably hard time about ditching them. And then he’d called Maya to cancel their plans. To say the drama queen had thrown a fit was an understatement, but then, it wasn’t his goal in life to fulfill her expectations. Basically, he’d hung up on her while she was still screaming in his ear.
The conversation with his sister still weighed on him. Natalie sounded wistful, fretful, and emotional. He blamed her mood on their mother’s death and her rampant pregnancy hormones.
MacDuff scratched the other side of the door, whining to be let out. Dylan obliged, grabbed the dog’s leash, and led him into the garden. They returned upstairs, and Dylan settled into place again. The dog rested his chin on Dylan’s thigh.
After running in circles all day, he was happy to land at his starting point. Almost like being back home.
The news from the police chief and fire investigators had been worse than expected. They now assumed Dylan had been the target. More in the way of a warning than a murder attempt, since Dylan had been present and no personal attack had been made.
Even so, it had been too close for comfort, and there was no justification for involving Gracie. Except that he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for including her in the first place. Like he could have kept her from getting involved if he’d wanted to. But he hadn’t wanted to exclude her. And here he was about to drag her further into the mess.
He shouldn’t be camped on her doorstep now that reporters had descended on the area. A news chopper had been sighted, swooping over the charred cabin. Several tabloid bloodsuckers had been snooping around, too. Fleming had forced them away from the fire scene. None of the officials had issued more than a cursory statement, but Dylan knew the media would keep at until they tracked him down. He could handle the attention, but he wouldn’t make it easy for them. And he didn’t want them bothering Gracie.
His heart kicked up a beat as he spotted her, striding across the lawn from the B&B with her singular combination of unconscious elegance and purpose. Would she be glad to see him? Would he be able to tell if she were?
“You’re still here.” She climbed the stairs, her smile both welcoming but wary.