Forever Grace Page 2

  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.

  CHAPTER 3

  ………………

  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 a
s 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.

  ………………

  From his prone position, Sean stared up through the canopy of trees at the cloudy, darkening sky, deck planks digging into his shoulder blades. Out on the lake, a loon called, its haunting voice echoing across the water. A leaf drifted down from one of the maples and landed on his chest. He lifted it, peering at it through the gloom. Wondered how many more would cover him by morning. Or by the time someone came looking for him and found him dead of exposure, lying on his back just feet away from the protection of his cottage.

  He considered making another attempt to rise, but the pain still thrumming along his bolted-and-wired-together thighbone was a serious deterrent. Best to give it a little longer to recover from the last effort. Passing out right now was definitely not in his best interests. He dropped the leaf back onto his chest and returned to staring at the sky.

  The situation would have been funny if it wasn’t so goddamn unnerving. His cell phone still lying beside the bed. The faulty lock on the sliding door barring him re-entry. One of his crutches shooting off between the rails and disappearing into the brush beside the deck. All the deck furniture—which might have aided his efforts to regain his feet—long since stored in the shed because he hadn’t planned on returning to the cottage before spring. The encroaching dark, the rapidly cooling temperature, and the presence of that damned bear scat beside the driveway.

  And the distinct possibility he’d dislodged at least one of the pins holding together his shattered leg.

  A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time, McKittrick. A fine, fine mess.

  From the woods beyond the deck came the snap of a breaking twig, the sound of something pushing through the undergrowth. Something big. Sean tensed. What now? A freaking bear?

  A flashlight beam wavered across the leafy bower above him.

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice called, its tone cautious. Guarded. “Is anyone there?”

  Sean levered himself up onto his elbows. “Here! On the deck at the back.”

  “How badly are you hurt?”

  “Apart from my pride?”

  A pause. “Um, yes. Apart from that.”

  “No worse than I was before I fell off my crutches, I don’t think. But I’ve lost one of the damned things over the side of the deck, and I can’t get up.”

  More crashing of brush ensued. “Which side?”

  “Opposite where you are now. And watch out for poison ivy. I cleared it out this summer, but I’m not sure I got it all.”

  The flashlight beam grew brighter and traveled around the deck. Branches and foliage rustled. A muttered “Hell!” came from the dark, followed by an exasperated “Seriously?”

  “Problem?” Sean asked.

  “You want the good news or the bad first?” The woman sighed and continued without waiting for his answer. “The good news is, I found your crutch. The bad news is that your poison ivy problem is back—and the crutch is in the middle of it. It will have plant oils all over it, so I’m going to have to wash it before you can use it.”

  Sean closed his eyes and lay back again. Wonderful. Just freaking wonderful. And all this because of some kid.

  “I suppose he belongs to you, too,” he growled.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The kid who caused this whole mess.”

  “How is this his fault?” The woman’s voice went tart. “You’re the one who yelled at him and took ten years off his life.”

  “He’s the one who was trespassing.”

  “We didn’t know anyone would be here.”

  “And that makes it okay to wander around my house?”

  “He was sitting on your deck reading,” she snapped. “It’s not like he was doing any harm.”

  “Way to teach him about private property and laws, lady.”

  Silence. Then, “You know, for someone in your current predicament, you’re being awfully snarky.”

  Sean opened his mouth to retort. He snapped it shut again. She had a point.

  More silence.

  A sigh.

  “Do you have any gloves in the cottage?” she asked.

  “No. I threw them out after dealing with the poison ivy this summer. I haven’t replaced them. There’s a bag of old cloths under the sink, but you’ll have to go through the front door to get them. This one’s locked.”

  “You locked yourself out?”

  “The lock button is loose. I haven’t gotten around to fixing it.”

  “I see. And is that Josh’s fault, too?”

  He ignored her. “Front door’s unlocked. Light switch is on the wall beside it.”

  Her footsteps receded, and a few seconds later a light came on inside the cottage. Sean waited. And waited. And waited. He frowned. How long did it take to get a couple of rags? His mouth twisted. It would just figure if she was in there going through his stuff, robbing him blind. Maybe she and the kid had a scheme going. Son distracts a cottager, causing unknown injuries, and then mom steps in to “help” and cleans out the place.

  Sean winced at the weirdness of his own thoughts.

  Whoa. Put a cop on painkillers and stand back from the imagination.

  Another light came on in the cottage, this one in the living room, and the door slid open. Sean looked over at the woman who stepped out, scanning her with a practiced eye. Caucasian. Five feet, five inches tall—maybe six—it was harder to estimate height from a ground position. Straight, long brown hair, average build, wearing black pants and a red, thigh-length jacket, cinched in at the waist. The woman turned to him, the light from inside falling across her face.

  And damned good looking, too.

  Kids, Sean. Even if she’s not married, you don’t do kids, remember?

  His gaze dropped to the bundle she carried. He frowned. “Blankets?”

  “And a pillow.” She crossed the deck to kneel beside him. “This is going to take longer than I thought, so I need to go home and check on the kids before I rescue your crutch and give it a bath. Then we’ll get you upright and back inside.”

  He lifted his head from the planks so she could tuck the pillow beneath him. “Kids, plural? How many?”

  “Four.” She unfolded a blanket and spread it over him.

  Four? He reappraised her as she unfolded a second cover.

  “That’s a lot of kids.”

  “They’re not—” She broke off. “Maybe to some. To me, it’s just the right number.”

  “And your husband agrees?”

  “I’m not married.” A third blanket followed the first two, and the woman pushed to her feet. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t run off anywhere.”

  “Funny.”

  “I try.”

  “One last thing before you go. In my bedroom, behind the door, there’s a shotgun. The shells are in the bedside table drawer.”

  She went still. “You keep a gun?”

  “I bring one with me when I come out here, as a precaution. For bears. There was a sow and her cubs hanging around the area this summer, and fresh scat beside the driveway when I pulled in earlier. They
’ll be trying to fatten themselves up for the winter, and I’d rather not have to fight them off with my bare hands if they decide to come investigate.”

  The woman stayed quiet for few seconds, probably mulling over the bear idea. Good. Maybe she’d take her oversized brood and go home.

  “I don’t like guns,” she said.

  “You’d like cleaning up my remains a lot less,” he pointed out. “I think.”

  Her gaze met his. In the faint light coming from the cottage, he couldn’t make out the color of her eyes, but he could see the tilt of one eyebrow above them.

  “You sure about that?” she asked. But she disappeared into the cottage again, and re-emerged a few minutes later with his 12-gauge in hand.

  Sean raised an eyebrow of his own. She might not like guns, but the way she held it told him she’d handled them before. She crossed to his side a second time, leaning down to place the gun at his side and drop a handful of slugs into his hand.

  “I’ll be back soon,” she said. Warm fingers curled over his. “Hang tight.”

  Sean watched the flashlight beam disappear into the night again.

  CHAPTER 4

  ………………

  AS SOON AS SHE REACHED the shelter of the trees, Grace paused to regroup. Leaning against a birch that flanked the path, she closed her eyes and sucked in the deep, steadying breath she’d needed since a man’s bellow had reached her in her kitchen. Since she had pulled Josh into her arms, the specter of Barry looming in her brain. Since her entire world had teetered for a moment on the brink of implosion.

  She took another breath, in through her nostrils, out through her mouth.

  It wasn’t Barry.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Barry hadn’t found them.

  In. Out.

  They were safe. At least for now.

  Slowly, the rush of blood in Grace’s eardrums subsided until other sounds could penetrate again. The rustle of the wind through the trees over her head, the scrabble of something small in the dry leaves to the side of the path. The faint who-whoo of an owl near the cottage she’d just left.