Last Of The Joeville Lovers
Anne Eames
MONTANA MALONES THE MOST WANTED MALONE BROTHER Tall, dark and very rich rancher Josh Malone's bachelor status was legendary. No one had ever been able to tempt the most wanted man in Montana to settle down. Until a tragedy changed Josh Malone's life forever… . Suddenly the man who was used to calling his own shots had to depend on the very headstrong, very beautiful Taylor Phillips.He knew she was as passionately attracted to him as he was to her, but once-burned, twice-shy Taylor refused to give in to the desire burning between them. Until what they both wanted most of all suddenly became theirs… .MONTANA MALONES: Three sexy brothers whose lips are sealed with their secrets… till passion pries 'em loose.
Whatever Made Him Think He Could Take Things Slowly Where Taylor Was Concerned? (#ufff4abfe-4a42-55ac-b69a-491344f619a4)Letter to Reader (#ua9453314-4bf6-5f83-9e51-b1d607af80c2)Title Page (#uf1c7366f-1a1e-5b54-b5b1-b7c6731a0c8a)About the Author (#u0e4b94c7-1041-5b92-a48e-a2c45ad8b76c)Acknowledgments (#u4087d25e-e133-53c9-b4c1-145dc848c8c7)Chapter One (#uf22402ab-07fd-5ede-bbec-313945907afd)Chapter Two (#u44479934-1c89-5f4b-b606-73a07350d2b9)Chapter Three (#u04982ad9-1926-53f5-8419-e851fefbec00)Chapter Four (#u522be48b-f93a-5f00-b1ba-f52cb248d5cd)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Whatever Made Him Think He Could Take Things Slowly Where Taylor Was Concerned?
Now that he knew they could make love, he wanted her.
Tonight. Badly.
He shook his head and muttered under his breath. One kiss and he wanted it all. And it wasn’t simply physical; that was the problem. He cared too much for this woman.
He’d seen it coming and he’d done nothing to stop it. He’d seen the look in her eyes and known she was beginning to care too much.... The evidence was in the generous and giving heart of Taylor that he had seen every time he’d looked deep into her eyes.
He growled in frustration. He couldn’t saddle her with this. No matter how willing she might be to accept him as he was. She deserved more. Much more. And until he could give it to her, he had to bring to a halt feelings that were getting far too out of hand.
It had been nearly impossible to ask her to leave tonight. And he doubted if he could ever muster the courage to do it again....
Dear Reader,
MEN! This month Silhouette Desire goes man-crazy with six of the sexiest, heart-stopping hunks ever to come alive on the pages of a romance novel.
Meet May’s MAN OF THE MONTH, love-wary secret agent Daniel Lawless, in The Passionate G-Man, the first book in Dixie Browning’s fabulous new miniseries, THE LAWLESS HEIRS. Metsy Hingle’s gallant hero protects an independent lady in danger in the last book of the RIGHT BRIDE, WRONG GROOM series, The Bodyguard and the Bridesmaid. Little bitty Joeville, Montana, has more tall, dark and rugged ranchers than any other town west of the Mississippi. And Josh Malone has more sex appeal than all of ’em put together in Last of the Joeville Lovers, the third book in Anne Eames’s MONTANA MALONES series.
In The Notorious Groom, Caroline Cross pairs the baddest boy ever to roam the streets of Kisscount with the town virgin in a steamy marriage of convenience. The hero of Barbara McCauley’s Seduction of the Reluctant Bride is one purebred Texas cowboy fixin’ to do some wife-wranglin’—this new groom isn’t about to miss a sultry second of his very own wedding night Yeehaw! Next, when a suddenly wealthy beauty meets the owner of the ranch next door, he’s wearing nothing but a Stetson and a smile in Carol Grace’s The Heiress Inherits a Cowboy.
Silhouette Desire brings you the kind of irresistible men who make your knees buckle, your stomach flutter, your heart melt...and your fingers turn the page. So enjoy our lineup of spectacular May men!
Regards,
Senior Editor
Silhouette Books
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian. PO. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Last of the Joeville Lovers
Anne Eames
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ANNE EAMES
This is Anne’s sixth novel for Desire. Her books have appeared on the USA Today bestseller list, and she has been a Golden Heart finalist and Maggie winner.
Anne and her husband, Bill, live in southeastern Michigan.
With special thanks to my pilot buddy, Barry;
to Dana and Christopher Reeve for their inspiration;
and most important, to my favorite cowboy
and love of my life, Bill.
One
“Don’t you dare stop now!” From her position on the floor, Taylor Phillips stared down into the tired cowboy’s eyes and saw beads of sweat streaking down his temples.
“How much longer till you’re satisfied?” Josh asked, pumping yet another time.
“At least a minute...five if you can hold out that long.” He groaned and kept moving, but without much enthusiasm.
“Having problems, Joshua Malone? I thought you told me you were in good shape” She knew she was goading him. She also knew that if she could elicit a little anger, he might find more energy and push his own limit.
Finally, with one last growl, he slumped on the floor beneath her. “Enough.” A dumbbell rolled free from his hand and coasted along the mat.
Taylor’s smile was one of triumph. She checked her watch then stood and extended an arm to Josh. “Not bad. Four minutes longer than yesterday.” Using his good arm, he grabbed hold of her hand and hoisted himself up.
“Where did you learn to be a physical therapist? The University of S and M?” He wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his T-shirt, then massaged his left shoulder.
Taylor laughed at his barb and made notes in his chart, resisting the temptation to write her thoughts: rich kid has to work hard. Poor baby. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him staring at her with that sexy smirk of his, one that he’d probably practiced in front of the mirror and that she’d heard worked on many an unsuspecting female in Bozeman. She wondered if he had a clue how much she enjoyed ignoring his overt moves on her. His shoulder had healed weeks ago. She knew why he kept coming around.
With her head still down she was finishing her notes when the sound of Max’s footsteps crossing the tile floor forced her to look up. His face was grave, a cordless phone pressed to his chest.
Josh ignored the ominous body language and tried to engage his father in playful banter. “Hey, Dad...did you teach Taylor to be this tough?”
His expression unchanged, Max didn’t acknowledge his son’s question. “Josh...you’ll have to excuse us a moment. There’s an urgent call from Ann Arbor.” Max turned back to Taylor. “It’s your father,” he said and handed her the phone.
Taylor stared at it, her pulse quickening. Her father would never call her at the Malone ranch when he knew she would be working in Max’s clinic...especially at this hour of the morning...unless....
She punched a button and spoke into the receiver, trying to steel herself for bad news. “Dad?” The sound of his voice at once confirmed her fears. Something was gravely wrong.
And it had to do with her mother.
Taylor walked around the corner to the office where Max’s daughter-in-law, Savannah, sat cross-legged on the floor. Her young son, Billy, knelt beside her, watching as she changed his baby brother’s diapers. Savannah’s quick smile faded as soon as she saw Taylor’s face.
Taylor dropped into a chair in front of the desk and listened intently to her father. “Who’s her doctor?” she finally asked. When her father answered, she stood and paced to the window behind the desk. “I’ll catch the next flight out. Tell her to hang on, Dad. I’m on my way.” Her knees started to shake and she was thankful when he said goodbye.
She switched off the phone and stared at miles of wildflowers leading to the MoJoe Mountains and the mirrored blue waters below, her thoughts turning inward. She had always known this day might come. And she had always known what she would do if it did.
“Taylor?”
She turned and saw the concern on Savannah’s face.
“What can I do to help?” she asked, as Max and Josh walked through the doorway.
Max stepped forward. “Let me call the airlines and get you a ticket.”
Taylor nodded, still stunned by the news. “I’ll have to go home and pack a few things. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone—”
Max closed the space between them, the pain on his face evident, reminding her that her mother and Max had been friends years ago, that she wasn’t some anonymous critical patient. “We’ll manage here. Put it out of your mind.” He bracketed her shoulders with a gentle touch. “But I don’t think you should drive.”
She started to protest when Josh broke in. “I’ll take you to the airport.”
Savannah adjusted her restless six-month-old on one hip and frowned at her watch. “If I remember correctly, the last time I thought about going back to Detroit, the only flight left before noon. If that’s still true, there won’t be time for you to go home first. I’m not sure if you can even make the flight.”
One way or the other, she would be on that plane. Clothes or no clothes. She tried to remember what still might be hanging in her childhood Ann Arbor home. Then Savannah offered a better solution.
“Between Jenny and me we have plenty of things you could borrow. Why don’t we go work on that while Max checks on the flight.”
Taylor let herself be led out of the office and down the hall to the living quarters, feeling as though she were a sleepwalker in a bad dream. In no time at all, Savannah deposited baby Chris in his playpen, told Billy to keep his little brother company, and then proceeded to pull two bags from the closet.
“I have an extra blow-dryer and curling iron. I’ll pack them and some personal stuff in this carry-on...but I think Jenny’s clothes might be closer to your size.” She handed a hang-up bag to Taylor and turned her toward the door.
“Thank you,” she mumbled and picked up her pace to the kitchen where she knew she would find Jenny preparing lunch. With any luck, possibly Ryder or Shane might be there, too. Savannah’s or Jenny’s husband would make a better traveling companion than Josh. She’d managed to ignore the youngest brother for the few months she’d worked here, except recently when he dislocated his shoulder. Therapy was one thing; spending a couple of hours in a car with him was quite another.
She could always drive herself, she thought as she heard laughter coming from the kitchen. She held out her hands and noticed her trembling fingers and knew that wouldn’t be wise. Finally she let out a pent-up breath and pushed through the swinging door to the lively kitchen. If she had to go with Josh, so be it. Reaching her mother on time was all that mattered.
Hannah, the barrel-shaped housekeeper, and Jenny were laughing at something and they turned in unison when she entered the room, their smiles disappearing when they saw her.
“My mom is very sick and I have to leave for the airport.” She heard the quaver in her voice and bit her bottom lip. She blinked hard, fighting to clear her vision, and eyed Jenny. “Savannah thought you might lend me some clothes—”
Jenny padded from behind the counter, wiping her hands on the apron that stretched across her rounded belly. “Of course.” She hooked Taylor’s arm and headed for the side door. “Come on to the cabin with me. Pick out whatever you want. I won’t be needing any of it for months.”
They started across the gravel drive and cut through the stables, Jenny moving briskly for a woman six months pregnant expecting twins. Since Taylor had accepted this part-time job, she and Jenny hadn’t exactly been bosom buddies, but they weren’t adversaries, either. Taylor suspected her shunning of Joshua had something to do with Jenny’s coolness. But whatever the strain between them, Jenny showed none of it now as she rushed Taylor along.
Neither Ryder or Shane was anywhere in sight, and the horses were all outside in the corral. Sunlight streamed through the open doors, and the smell of fresh-strewn hay rose up to meet her. Outside again, they crossed to the cabin steps and Taylor followed Jenny past the screen door and into the cozy living room beyond, too numb to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. Together they filled the hang-up bag with a couple of simple summer dresses, skirts, knitted tops and jeans.
“Thanks,” Taylor said, zipping closed the bag, eager to be on the road.
When they returned to the main house, Max was staring out the back window of the kitchen and Josh was on the phone. He hung up and said, “There! Got everything covered for the rest of the day.” He faced Taylor and rubbed his hands together. “Ready to go?”
Taylor hid her disappointment the best she could. Even if Josh wasn’t her first choice, he was doing her a favor. “Yes, I think so.”
Savannah held up a pair of shoes in either hand. “Thought you could use these...if they fit.”
Taylor checked the size and nodded, then glanced over at the sad figure in front of the window. Max seemed as dazed as she felt. Savannah found a pocket for the shoes and zipped the bag closed, the sound snapping Max from his reverie.
He walked quickly to Taylor’s side, acting as though he only now realized she had returned. “I got you a seat...out of Bozeman...but you’ll have to hurry.” He lifted his wrist and read the time. “The plane leaves in less than two hours.”
Josh gave him a dismissive wave. “Not to worry, Dad. I’ll use my plane and get her there with time to spare.”
Max gave him a stern look. “I thought you said it needed repair.”
Josh shrugged. “Nah, just a few minor adjustments. I took care of it yesterday.”
Taylor grimaced. Just what she needed—to squeeze into some small crop duster and put her life in the hands of this gamesome cowboy.
Max’s expression looked as if he mirrored her thoughts as he touched Taylor’s arm, but then he changed the subject. “Tell your mom I—” he paused and glanced at the other worried faces in the kitchen “—tell her we’ll all be praying for her.”
Taylor held his gaze a moment, certain he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. The women gave her a quick hug, and Josh tugged at her elbow. He winked and ushered Taylor outside, where his dusty red pickup was parked at a reckless angle. She settled quickly into the passenger seat and strapped herself in as Josh tossed her bags in the back and slid behind the wheel. He turned the key in the ignition and looked over at her.
“Don’t look so worried. I’m fast, but I’m safe.”
She bit her tongue and rolled her eyes. She wanted to say she’d heard that about him from too many coeds, and also at the hospital where she and Max worked when they weren’t at the clinic, but she decided now wasn’t the time.
Without waiting for a response, he threw the gearshift into reverse, spun into a half circle and sent gravel spitting in all directions as he barreled down the drive to the main gate and cut sharply onto the road heading north toward his hangar. Taylor gritted her teeth and clung to the armrest, telling herself speed was imperative, and that the roads were dry and safe.
Whatever anxiety she’d felt escalated when they stepped into Josh’s small Cessna and then taxied to the short grassy runway. She wanted to ask him how long he’d been doing this, but decided it was too late and she really didn’t want to know.
The takeoff was smooth and uneventful, and she started to relax. If her mind wasn’t elsewhere, she would have enjoyed the mountains on the horizon and the patchwork fields of vivid color below. It was a beautiful day in May by anyone’s standards. The sun shone bright in the awesome big skies she’d come to love. On a wistful sigh she remembered that when she was a little girl in Ann Arbor this was just the kind of day her mother had described. It was Mom’s stories of her own youth, growing up in Montana and getting her nursing degree from Montana State, that had compelled Taylor to enroll at her mother’s alma mater and see for herself the grandeur of this magnificent part of the country.
Taylor leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Mom had been right. It was gorgeous out here. But at times like this, she wished Michigan wasn’t so far away.
Please, God, give Mama the strength to hold on.
She felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and she dug for a tissue in her purse, wiping her face quickly and blowing her nose.
“I hope everything works out okay,” Josh said.
She wadded the tissue and shoved it into her jeans pocket, realizing for the first time that she still wore her white jacket from the clinic. “Me, too,” she said, and shrugged out of it.
“Would you like some music? I have tapes and headphones.” He half shouted over the steady roar of the engine.
She eyed him curiously, surprised at his suddenly somber demeanor. “No, but thank you,” she said after a moment. He looked distracted by private thoughts and she wondered where he was.
“Has your mom been sick for a while?” Josh glanced over, then back to the vast blue sky.
She wished he would stop talking. She wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter. Still, she was indebted to him for his help, so she answered him with as few words as possible. “Mom was in an auto accident when I was in nursery school. Got pretty banged up. Broke one arm and leg...and lost a kidney. She was in the hospital a long time and then physical therapy after that.”
“Is that how you became interested in PT?”
“Yeah, I guess it was.” She exhaled loudly, deciding to mollify him and hoping a little conversation might pass time. She felt a slow smile curve her lips as she thought more about his question. “I remember playing nurse with my dolls. I was so proud of Mom and loved to see her in those white uniforms. But after helping her with her exercises when she got home... well, I saw how much it made a difference. She recovered completely and was able to return to work. I thought—” she felt the lump at the back of her throat again “—I hoped it would never come to this, though.”
“This?”
“She’s in renal failure... the other kidney—” She turned back to the side window and swallowed hard.
“Is she a candidate for a transplant?”
“She’s on the list, but the timing...” Taylor heaved a sigh and decided to tell Josh what was really on her mind. Maybe saying it out loud would give her more confidence. “If there isn’t a donor by the time I get there, I’m giving Mom one of mine.”
She glanced at him, half expecting him to argue the dangers. His jaw muscles knotted and he didn’t comment for the longest time. Then he said, “I wish I could’ve done something to help my mother.”
Taylor stared at him, waiting for more, but nothing came. It was common knowledge at the hospital that Max was widowed, yet she’d never been sure what had happened. How could Josh have helped her? There had been gossip about a possible suicide, but no one seemed certain. It had occurred years before her arrival on campus, and Dr. Max Malone wasn’t one to provide grist for the rumor mill. His private life was just that.
Whether in the classroom or seeing to patients at the hospital or his home clinic, Max was all business. He had a tender and caring heart, but beyond that, he was pretty tight-lipped. If Mom hadn’t told her stories of the techniques he’d pioneered in orthopedic surgery at the University of Michigan Hospital, Taylor might never have known what a remarkable doctor he was. She’d been truly lucky to have such a man as her mentor.
Suddenly Josh pasted on a toothy smile and looked her way, putting aside whatever had been churning behind his troubled blue-gray eyes. “You’re a brave woman, Taylor Phillips.”
She chuckled softly. “I don’t know about that. I try not to think of the surgery and afterward. I just know I have to do something.” He winked at her in that roguish way of his and returned his attention to the skies ahead, falling silent once again.
Why did he play these constant games? For a while she’d thought she’d seen a glimpse of the real man, but the curtain had closed. Once again he took on the air of a carefree playboy and she felt a wave of disappointment, not certain why. Curious, she studied his sun-streaked sandy hair, which hung carelessly over the collar of his aviator jacket, and she wondered if he worked at this unruly look or if it came naturally with his behavior.
He banked the plane unexpectedly, and she jerked against her seat belt. Annoyed she turned her head and muttered caustically under her breath. “Fast with cars, planes and women. What a man!”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. I—” The single engine sputtered and the nose dipped radically. She gripped her armrests. “What was that?”
He leveled the plane, seeming unconcerned. “She’s an old plane. Don’t worry about it. Everything’s okay.”
She spotted the airport just ahead and wished they were on the ground safely.
“Next time I take you for a ride, I’ll have my new plane and you won’t look so worried.”
She crossed her arms and tried to relax, glad the engine noise had returned to normal and that they had begun their descent.
A new plane, she thought. Must be nice. Here she would be paying on student loans well into the twenty-first century, and this guy’s talking about buying a plane as if it were no bigger deal than a pair of boots. She’d been right to think he was a self-centered, spoiled—
“Will you call and let us know how your mom is doing?”
Taylor stared at him a moment. Who was this man? And why was she even wasting time trying to figure him out?
Josh glanced over when she didn’t answer.
“Y-yes. Sure.” She closed her mouth and watched the smooth landing, shrugging all thoughts of Joshua Malone from her head and worrying once again about the days ahead.
She would make her plane without a problem. If only there wasn’t a layover in Minneapolis—it would take at least another seven hours until she reached her mother’s side.
Please, God. Don’t let me be too late.
Josh helped her down the steps and carried her bags across the tarmac to the terminal. Taylor seemed a million miles away and he understood. He wished he could think of appropriate words to comfort her, but he remembered hearing all the platitudes after his mother’s death and how he’d felt. So he remained silent and walked alongside her to the gate.
He stayed with Taylor until her row was called, then he wished her good luck and watched her move gracefully down the jetway.
A feeling of anxiety stirred behind his rib cage. He didn’t know why or when the game had changed, but he knew it had. Taylor Phillips was no longer just another challenge. He was starting to care about this woman—what made her tick, what would happen to her in Ann Arbor, and when would she return?
He spun on his heel and strode toward the exit.
How had he let this happen?
Two
The men’s room door opened ahead of Taylor as she neared the entrance to Intensive Care, and the sad figure of John Phillips emerged. At first he didn’t notice her, his head down, shoulders rounded, no doubt from fatigue as well as worry.
“Dad!” She moved quickly to him and welcomed his warm embrace. He squeezed her tight, and for the longest time said nothing. Over her father’s shoulder she said gently, “It’s going to be okay, Dad. I’ve made a decision.”
He stepped back and eyed her curiously, his face looking more lined than she’d ever remembered. Taylor took him by the shoulders and stared into his weary dark eyes, hoping to instill a measure of hope in him. “I’m going to give Mom one of my kidneys.” He started to shake his head, but she stilled it between her hands. “There’s no point arguing with me. While I’m seeing Mom, would you try finding her doctor...have him paged, if need be.” She looked around them and added, “Where’s Michael?”
“Your brother’s in the chapel.” He stared at the tile floor. “Sweetheart—”
“Please, Dad. Just find the doctor. Let’s not waste time.” She kissed his cheek as if he’d agreed and then punched the metal square on the wall. The large double doors to ICU swung open and she raced to the desk beyond.
“I’m here to see Angela Phillips. I’m her daughter.”
“Room six to the right...but you can only stay a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” She tore around the corner, found the room and came to an abrupt stop in the doorway. Tubes ran to bags and monitors in all directions. She’d seen it hundreds of times before, but none had been her mother...except for that one time years ago after the car wreck. Then, like now, Mom seemed so frail and vulnerable, so unlike the vibrant and energetic woman she had always been.
Angela’s eyelids fluttered, then opened to narrow slits when she rolled her head toward the door. Taylor let out a cleansing breath and raced to her mother’s side.
“Taylor—” Angela reached out a shaky hand, IVs channeled through a heplock into a puffy vein. “I’m so glad you made it—”
In time. Those were the words that hung between them, but Taylor refused to believe them.
“Mom, you have to fight this.” Then she forced a smile. “You’re getting a new kidney. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Angela closed her eyes and a sweet smile curved her lips. “I can’t let you do that, dear.”
“Who said it was me?”
Angela squinted at her with a knowing look.
“Well, I’m going to do it, so there’s no point discussing it.” Taylor glanced at the monitors and read the numbers. They would have to improve before surgery, but now that Mom knew there was hope, surely she would fight harder.
She had to.
Taylor couldn’t imagine life without her mother. They had always been so close, even when separated by miles. The weekly Sunday night phone calls were followed by long, chatty letters. There was nothing they didn’t share.
“Taylor?” Angela whispered, as she closed her eyes again.
Taylor leaned across the railing and kissed her mother’s clammy forehead. “I’m right here, Mama.” She kept her face near, and Angela’s lips barely moved.
“You have to do something for me—”
“Anything, Mama.” She swallowed hard to keep from crying. She had never seen her mother this sick, not even after the accident.
Angela squeezed Taylor’s hand and she watched tears escape from behind her mother’s closed lids. “Please don’t hate me—”
“Don’t talk silly,” she said, interrupting what she guessed were delirious words. “I could never hate you, Mama. You know how much I love you.”
Angela nodded her head ever so slightly. “There’s something in the attic that you have to find for me...but you can’t let your father see....”
Taylor looked nervously behind her, relieved that her father had not yet returned. What on earth was her mother talking about? Was it the drugs?
“Under the old love seat in the attic...loose boards...two journals I wrote...long ago.” Her words were coming in short bursts and Taylor thought of making her stop. “Don’t let anyone see them.” She opened her eyes slowly and held her daughter’s steady gaze. “Please?”
What on earth could this mean? Her parents never kept secrets from each other. She was sure of it. They had always treated each other with such tenderness and respect; there was always such contentment between them. It had to be the drugs.
“Taylor? Will you get them for me?”
Hallucinating or not, she couldn’t say no. “Yes, Mama.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and smoothed her fair hair away from her sallow face. “Get some rest now, okay? I’ll be back later.”
Angela closed her eyes and seemed instantly asleep. Taylor checked the monitors again and there was no change. She pressed her lips to her mother’s temple and whispered in her ear, “Fight hard, Mama. I love you,” thinking she probably didn’t hear.
Her eyes still closed, Angela whispered back, “I love you, too.”
With one last lingering look, Taylor backed quietly out of the room.
Michael and Dad were leaning against the far wall, arms folded as if to ward off a sudden chill. Michael met her halfway for a frightened hug as her father pulled himself from a stupor.
His head shot up and his eyes grew round. “Is she—?”
“She’s resting.”
He exhaled a loud breath and Taylor realized what he’d been thinking.
“Did you find her doctor?”
He nodded, then clasped her hand between both of his. “I told him what you said.” He averted his eyes and she could see them glazing over. “He said she’s too sick for a transplant.” He looked back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It’s just too late.”
“No!” Taylor backed away and glared at him. “Mom’s a fighter. She’ll get better and we’ll do the surgery.” She lowered her voice and raised his chin with her finger, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Dad...you can’t give up or Mom will see it on your face.”
“You’re right,” he said, but without much conviction. “Let me go in and kiss her good-night. The doctor suggested we go home and let her rest. They’ll call if there’s any change.” He stumbled toward the door, paused, straightened his shoulders some and walked toward the woman who had been his wife and best friend for nearly thirty years.
Michael laced Taylor’s fingers in his. “Where are your bags?”
She stared after their father, unable to look Michael in the eye. Maybe she could fool Dad with her false hopes, but Michael could always see right through her. He was only twenty, five years her junior, yet it had been years since she’d thought of him as a kid. She met his sad gray eyes and remembered his question. “My bags are downstairs behind the information counter, but—”
“I know you want to stay, but if you don’t leave, neither will Dad. I’m worried about him. I can’t remember when he slept last.”
She didn’t want to leave, but she knew Michael was right. And then there was the matter of her mother’s request. Was there really something in the attic beneath loose boards? If there was and she could tell Mom she had found it and removed it, maybe it would buoy her spirits. It was grabbing at straws, but that was all she had at the moment.
Her father joined them in the hall, his chin back on his chest.
Taylor took his arm, and Michael moved to the opposite side. “Let’s go home, Dad. She’ll be better in the morning.” Her words sounded hollow to her own ears, yet like a gentle breeze, they fanned a low flame of hope.
After a fitful night of half expecting the phone to ring, at dawn Taylor sat up with a start when she heard her father tell Michael that he was taking a shower and to listen for the phone.
All night she had thought about her mother’s request and wished she could go exploring upstairs. But the night had been too still and the house too small for her to hide her movements, so she had waited. Now, as soon as she heard the water running, Taylor checked that Michael’s door was closed before darting up the attic stairs.
It had been years since she’d ventured up here, and the dusty smell of cardboard boxes and stored treasures reminded her of lazy afternoons with Mom, times when they had retraced the steps of old shoes and hats left behind by Grandma and Aunt Helen. Taylor stopped at the top step and eyed the old rocker in front of the window. A floor lamp with an arched neck and Tiffany shade waited next to the rocker for someone to pull its chain. Cross-stitched throw pillows rested at the foot of it all, where Taylor used to sit by the hour and listen to her mother’s stories of the Big Sky Country of her youth.
Particles of sunshine filtered through the aged organza curtains and spotlighted the old love seat on the opposite wall. The curved cherry wood trim on the back was in better shape than the willow green brocade upholstery. She could almost hear the cushions ripping if she dared sit on its fragile surface. She walked cautiously toward it, having no intention of sitting on it at all, wishing she didn’t have to touch it. If there were loose boards beneath it, she hoped they revealed nothing. Yet the sound of her own fast breathing told her there would be something there. Something she wasn’t sure she wanted to discover. Something that might tip the scales of their balanced little family, a good and loving family that was at the core of who she was.
Taylor stopped at one end of the small sofa, her arms still at her side. She closed her eyes and pictured her mother’s worried face when she’d made this strange request. There was no going back to the hospital without telling Mom all was safe.
Before she could lose her nerve, she lifted an armrest and moved the sofa silently away from the wall. Wide cracks bracketed two boards beneath and she fought the urge to run from this once-cozy space. Instead, she stooped and tugged at the planks, listening for the water to shut off downstairs, hearing nothing but the hammering of her own heart in her ears.
There, below the floor, were two cloth-covered journals, their delicate calico prints suggesting a woman’s loving touch. Taylor retrieved them quickly, replaced the boards and repositioned the love seat in the clean spots left by the claw-footed legs.
With the books tucked safely under her bulky sweater, she descended the stairs, raced to her old room, and pressed her back to the closed door before releasing the breath she’d been holding.
There. She had Mama’s journals. Dad would never see them, would never know their content.
But what did they say that would hurt him so much?
There was a soft rap on the door and Taylor jumped. “Taylor?”
Quickly she hid the books in her carry-on bag and then took a cleansing breath.
“Be right there, Dad.” Suddenly she felt as though she were part of some conspiracy. Would he see a guilty look on her face? She glanced at the mirror and practiced a calm she didn’t feel, then opened the door.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
His concern doubled her guilt and she struggled to conceal it. She’d had no reason to ever deceive her father before, but Mom had said he must never know. “I—I’m fine, Dad. Maybe we should leave for the hospital now.”
His weary gaze lingered on her face a moment and her pulse raced. But then he turned and headed for the door, Michael right behind him. “Yes. I think we should get going.”
When they arrived at the room, they were blocked by a wall of white and aqua jackets surrounding Angela’s bed. Orders were barked and obeyed. Taylor stood on one foot then the other trying to see the monitors, but the view was obstructed by a burly intern whose pinched brow and intense eyes gave her reason to worry. She squeezed Michael’s sweaty palm and felt her father’s hand dig deeper into her shoulder.
It was at times like this that Taylor wished she knew less about medicine, that she was a little girl again... who thought her mother was invincible.
Her ear was trained on the beeps from the monitor, picturing each peak, praying for the next. And then she heard the sound she feared the most—a constant hum
Injections and paddles followed the dismal sound, but to no avail.
The time of death was called by the senior physician.
The trio huddled in the doorway, Taylor in the center. She closed her eyes and pictured her mother’s soul winging its way to heaven and tried to draw comfort from the fact that she was in a better place now, free of all pain. It helped a little, and surely as time passed her faith would help her again.
But in the deep recesses of her mind, there was a dark dread that in the months to come Mom’s death would only be part of her grieving. Grandmother used to say trouble came in threes. If she was right, Taylor didn’t speculate on number two and three. At the moment one seemed more than enough.
It came as no surprise to any of them when the family read Angela’s letters Wednesday afternoon. There was one for each of them that they would later share, and there was one that listed the whereabouts of valuables and papers of importance. Angela had anticipated this day and had planned every last detail, including prepayment of expenses. She’d asked to be cremated after a private family viewing, and if they decided to have a memorial service, she hoped it would be the next day at the hospital chapel.
Simple, clean, fast.
That’s what she wanted and that’s what she got, the family somewhat relieved that decisions had been made, all too numb with the loss of a young, vital woman.
Phone calls kept them busy until late evening, when her father and Michael each retreated behind closed doors, leaving Taylor alone in the kitchen. She cleaned up the bowls of half-eaten soup and wiped the counter, noticing her mother’s hair appointment marked on the calendar next to the phone. It was for next Thursday.
Later, she told herself. She’d call the shop tomorrow.
The idea of telling the sad story one more time today left her weak in the knees and she slumped into the nearest chair. She’d held it together all day, as much for her father and Michael’s sake as her own. Right now she could use a good cry, alone in her room.
But there was one more call she had to make.
Not only had she promised Josh she’d call, but she knew Max would want to know. Josh. She remembered their conversation on the plane and his faraway look when he’d spoken of his mother. The pain had shown on his face, even after all these years. The knot at the back of her throat pushed again as she forced herself out of the chair and to the phone.
Hannah answered on the second ring and said she was the only one home. Taylor rushed through the bad news, surprised when the tough old housekeeper started sniffling and then blew her nose. They didn’t know each other that well; the reaction seemed out of character. And what seemed even stranger were her parting words.
“Call Max after the funeral tomorrow, will ya, sweetie?”
Taylor paused a moment, then said, “Sure.”
When she hung up the phone and padded into her room, she wondered why she should call Max again. Maybe to talk about when she would be back to work.
The room down the hall from the hospital chapel was filled to capacity with food and those who had come to pay their respects.
Taylor accepted the sympathetic touches and hugs from hundreds, faces blurring together, kind words washing over her like rain that wasn’t wet, not touching her, not penetrating the cloak she wore around her pain. Dad stood to one side of her, his eyes red rimmed, his composure a thin facade. Michael no longer fought the tears. He bit his top lip and nodded acknowledgment to mourners, never saying a word, his light blue collar spotted with dark droplets.
Mercifully the day ended and the grief-stricken family returned to their little bungalow near the hospital. They reminisced about good times and dug out old photo albums, but eventually the men found solace in their rooms while Taylor sipped her lukewarm tea and stared at the phone on the kitchen wall. As much as the Malones had come to mean to her, Montana and the life she had made there seemed part of a distant past, as surreal as the events of the last couple of days.
Still, she had told Hannah she would call. So she did.
Hannah only said hello this time, before shuffling off to get Max, whose voice sounded as strained as her own.
“I’m so sorry about your mother,” he said.
She could hear the pain in his voice and knew his words far transcended politeness. He cared about her mother; they had been friends. “I know.” She swallowed, hoping to keep the conversation short. “The flowers were beautiful. Thank the rest of the family for me...please?”
Max said nothing, the tension at the other end of the line nearly palpable. It was as if he were wary about speaking his mind, that there was something else he wanted to say and couldn’t. She decided it must be about work.
“I talked to Dad and Michael. We agreed it would be best for all of us to get back to work. They started an addition to someone’s house last week that needs a roof before it rains, and—”
“Take as much time as you need. I don’t want to rush you.”
“You’re not. I want to...have to keep busy.”
Max didn’t argue. In fact, he said nothing. “Max? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
The pause, followed by a long sigh, told her there was. “Max?”
“You have enough on your plate—”
“Please. What is it?” She knew it wasn’t good, yet she had to know.
“It’s Josh—”
She sprang out of the chair and paced toward the sink. “What about Josh?”
“I didn’t want to trouble you with this, Taylor, but...well, he had an accident with his plane—”
“Is ..is he—”
“It looks like he’s going to pull through.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, but before she could relax he told her the rest.
“He’s banged up pretty bad, and—” Max paused, then blurted it out “—Taylor...he’s going to need our help. He’s paralyzed from the waist down.”
Three
As difficult as the flight had been to Detroit, the return was even worse. The hope Taylor had nursed five days ago had been replaced with a large empty hole, one she doubted would ever be filled, a wound so fresh and deep that she couldn’t quite comprehend the days and months ahead. Her work, and a lot of help from above, would be her salvation.
And why did this have to happen to Josh? Was this number two of three, as Grandma had warned? If it was, then what else was in store for her? She shook her head and squared her shoulders, dismissing the silly adage as she strode down the hospital corridor, nodding at familiar faces, her gait saying she had no time for idle chatter.
She stepped into the elevator and punched the button for ICU, then punched it again when it didn’t respond, as if the second prompt might speed things along. Others wandered in and she stepped aside. One young man held a large stuffed animal, and his face reflected the joy and pride of a new papa. She stared at the floor and wondered when she might feel joy again.
First Mom, now this. Josh’s dimpled smile flashed in her mind’s eye. So young, so carefree...so handsome. He had everything.
That wasn’t true, she reminded herself. He’d lost a mother, too. At least she had hers for twenty-five years, which was almost twenty years longer than Josh could say. And then another thought crossed her mind: why did people wait for a tragedy to think kindly about certain people? Why did they—she—not see the pain in their eyes before and realize that they carried baggage from the past, too? Like Josh...
The elevator stopped and Taylor excused her way to the front, wondering what she would say to Josh when she saw him. She hadn’t been very nice to him in the past, based mostly on rumors and supposition...and her own prejudice against young people with easy money.
Today would be different; she would look Josh in the eye and start again. There was a good man inside there somewhere; she was sure of it. After all, he was Max’s son. He had to be. And now, more than ever, Josh would need help to see him through.
As she neared ICU she remembered the pastor’s recent eulogy. “When you’re feeling your lowest, reach out to someone else in need...it’s impossible to feel sad when you’re making someone else smile.”
Taylor held tight to that thought and identified herself at the nurses’ station, then pressed the metal plate on the wall for the big double doors to swing open. Why it had to be Josh whom God had chosen to help occupy her days of mourning, she didn’t know. But she made a silent vow that she would do her best to bring a smile back on that handsome face of his.
She stepped into the room and suppressed a moan. Both legs were in traction; a trapeze hung over his chest. Monitors and IVs surrounded him, reminding her of her mother’s plight just days ago. With an ache in her chest, she stepped into the room. Josh’s head was facing the window and she thought he was asleep, but when her shoes squeaked on the tile floor, he looked at her, and amidst a maze of cuts and bruises a big smile washed over his pale lips.
“Hi, gorgeous.” His speech was a little slurred, his tongue sounding thick with drugs. Still, he smiled. “This is much better,” he said.
She moved slowly to his side, wanting to touch him, yet feeling shy for some odd reason. “What’s much better?” she asked, pretending not to notice the extent of his injuries.
“A beautiful nurse! In the movies, there are always young, pretty nurses. I had just about given up.”
Still full of it, she thought, then chuckled. “I’m not a nurse. I’m a—”
“Yeah, yeah. A sadistic physical therapist.”
His smile was firmly in place, a fact that amazed her. She had only to enter his room to achieve her goal. Without thinking, she returned his easy smile.
“Guess that shoulder business was just a sample of what I’m in for, huh?”
Taylor straightened his covers, needing something to do with her hands and having trouble holding his gaze. “You got that right, cowboy. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“I love it when you talk tough.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see how tough you are in the months to come.”
“Months?” He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Weeks. Once I get out of this place, you wait and see. I’ll be the best success story you’ve ever told.”
She glanced at his elevated legs, hoping he couldn’t read her worries about his paralysis, about the severity of the damage that may have been done. When she looked back at his sleepy face, his smile had disappeared.
“You will be my therapist, won’t you?”
“Yes. Of course. You were one of my favorite patients to abuse.” She swallowed hard and decided it was time to leave. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said, and turned to go.
Josh reached out and snagged her hand, his fingers shaking. “I’m glad.” He held her gaze a few seconds too long, then, as if sensing her discomfort, he waved his free hand in the direction of his legs. “It’s temporary, you know. Traumatic something-or-other. Nothing hard work can’t cure.” He tried to move and winced. “I’ll just have to pretend it’s training camp for football. Used to have a pretty grueling schedule, you know. Two-a-days...that’s what they called them. With lots of running and weight lifting in between.” He stopped talking suddenly and studied her face. “But the coach never looked as good as you.” He shot her a roguish wink.
Taylor shook her head, seeing the fear and uncertainty behind all his bravado. “You never quit, do you?”
“Nope,” he said, eyeing her closely and still holding her hand.
The feel of his lingering touch sent her pulse racing. She wondered if he was still thinking of physical therapy; she sure wasn’t. She caught herself quickly and placed his hand on his chest with a gentle pat. She must remember her objectives: to be his physical therapist and part of his healing process as well as her own.
“You need your rest,” she said. “I’ll be back later.”
“Promise?”
She forced a lazy smile. “Promise.”
“Today?”
“If you’d like.”
“I’d like.”
Taylor left the unit, rounded the corner and then stopped, pressing her back to the cold concrete wall and breathing deeply through her mouth. She’d always prided herself in being able to control her emotions. Yes, she had cried over her mother’s death and she surely would again, but she knew Mom was in a better place now and that Dad and Michael would take care of each other.
But who would take care of her? She longed for a hug and a shoulder to lean on. That must be why Josh’s gentle touch had shaken her so.
She pushed off the wall and headed for Max’s office.
Vulnerable. It was only natural that she would feel vulnerable for a while. She would be wise to remember that whenever she was with Josh. He needed her help; she needed to keep busy.
That’s all there was to it.
Josh stared out the window, wishing he was on the other side, feeling the sunshine on his face. And more importantly—the ground beneath his feet. He tried focusing on a list of calls that had to be made, chores that had to be delegated. His first crop of wheat needed attention.
Yet the farm was a hazy image eclipsed by a beautiful face, one surrounded by waves of hair fairer than his precious wheat, framing eyes bluer than his beloved Montana sky.
He bent an arm behind his head and pictured her fragile smile, and suddenly guilt prickled in his chest. Damn. He’d been so glad to see her, he hadn’t even mentioned her mother’s death. What an insensitive oaf she must think he is. A self-absorbed oaf. Who better than he knew how it felt to lose a mother? Next time...when she returned....
He closed his eyes and his head grew fuzzy, the drugs numbing more than his pain. His thoughts were again a jumble and it was hard to concentrate. Wheat fields blurred with blond hair, and yellow combines turned into oak caskets. Then, mercifully, images of mothers and deaths were overtaken by the fluids dripping into the back of his hand and everything went blank again.
Max rose to greet Taylor, stepping quickly from behind his cluttered desk. He gave her a gentle embrace and then sat back on the edge of his desk. “How are you holding up?”
Taylor bit her top lip and nodded, not meeting his dark eyes.
“I wish I could have been there. I’m so sorry—”
She held up a hand, stopping him. This was the worst—hearing someone say they were sorry and seeing the sadness in their eyes. Sometimes she wished everyone would pretend nothing had happened, that they would give her a few days, even hours, to mend.
She was being unkind, she thought, and expelled a long breath.
When the silence became uncomfortable she changed topics. “I just came from Josh’s room. His spirits seem good.”
Max nodded and looked at the floor.
“How bad is it? Can you tell me?”
Max exhaled loudly. “Too soon to say, but we’re optimistic.”
“Spinal cord?”
“Not severed.”
Taylor dropped into the chair behind her, only now realizing how much she had dreaded another answer. Max took the seat next to her, tugged at a leg of his scrubs and crossed an ankle over one knee. “I keep reminding myself how much worse it could have been. If Shane hadn’t been on his way over to the farm when the plane went down—”
“You mean he actually saw the crash?” Bile rose in her throat just thinking about it.
Max shook his head. “Hannah and Jenny had done a lot of baking that morning, and Shane volunteered to drive some things over to the farm. Thank God he was in his Explorer and had his cell phone.” Max rubbed his temples and Taylor saw the fatigue and worry on his face. “Josh tipped his wings when he spotted Shane on the road below... the way he likes to do whenever he sees one of us...or at least that’s what Shane thought he was doing. Then the plane cleared the trees and—” Max sucked in air and finished “—we all heard the impact. The ground shook and I knew...”
Taylor reached out a hand and touched his arm. “We don’t have to talk about this now.”
“No. It’s okay.” He patted the back of her hand. “Shane called 911 and got to the site soon after. But all he could see was fire and smoke. Then he said he thought he was seeing a mirage. Heat waves rose from the ground and he saw Josh’s jacket. He drove as close as he could and dragged Josh far enough away before the explosion.”
“And Shane?”
“Just scrapes and bruises when he hit the ground.” He uncrossed his legs and braced his elbows on his knees. “And an unwarranted dose of guilt.”
“Guilt?”
“He can’t get it out of his head that he might have done the damage to Josh’s legs when he dragged him.”
“But, Max, the alternative—”
Max slapped his knees and stood. “I know. I’ve told him that. But until Josh walks again, Shane won’t listen to reason.”
Taylor pushed out of her chair and faced Max, feeling the effects of the worst week of her life. “Then we’ll just have to make sure Josh walks again, won’t we?” She tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth wouldn’t move.
Max smiled for her. “If anyone can do it, Taylor, it’s you...but it will mean a lot of extra hours. I know the timing couldn’t be worse—”
“The timing couldn’t be better. I need to work right now.”
He held her gaze and looked as if he wanted to say more. There was so much pain on his tanned face, the gray at his temples more pronounced than she remembered.
“I have a patient in postop. Will you be around a while?”
She nodded. “Either in PT or with Josh.”
“Good. There’s something we need to talk about.” He looked guilty suddenly, and she couldn’t imagine what was on his mind. “I—I know this is a terrible imposition, but I was hoping you might move out to the ranch when Josh goes home. He’ll need a lot of one-on-one time, and I doubt he’d work as well with me.” Taylor opened her mouth to speak, but Max stopped her. “Just think about it. No need to decide now.”
Taylor stood rooted in place and watched Max amble down the hall toward Recovery.
Move out to the ranch? The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Yet the idea of too much time alone in her small apartment had worried her. The move could help her as well as Josh.
Then why was she experiencing this shortness of breath? What was she afraid of? She knew and liked the family, and there was plenty of room for her in that big sprawling home.
Finally she puffed out her cheeks, burst out a long breath and headed for the Physical Therapy Unit. It was best not to think about the future right now.
Hard work. Lots of it. That’s what she needed.
Time would clear the cobwebs.
The patient load was lighter than usual, giving Taylor too much time to think. Each moment there was a break in the schedule, she thought of Josh upstairs, and confusion swirled in her head. Less than a week ago she didn’t even like the man. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him the few days a week she’d worked at the ranch clinic. Now she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts.
He was hurt. He needed her help. Staying at the ranch during his therapy made sense. Logic, logic, logic. It wasn’t working this time.
The last patient left and she strode toward Josh’s room, drawn there with a force she was too weary to analyze. When she arrived at his bedside, he opened his eyes and smiled his easy smile again.
“You’re back.”
“I said I would.”
“A woman of her word.” He patted the edge of his bed and she sat gingerly. “Hear any good jokes lately?”
She laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. “Afraid not.”
His expression grew serious. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish again.” He turned off the TV with the remote on his bed railing, then met Taylor’s eyes. “I meant to say something before about your mother—”
Taylor averted her gaze, bracing herself for another “I’m sorry about your loss.” But Josh surprised her.
“I know how you feel.” He took her hand as he had before and the reaction in her limbs was the same. “Anytime you want to talk...maybe reminisce...you know where to find me.” His stroke on the back of her hand felt good. Sincere. “I don’t have as many memories as you do,” he added, “but I’ll tell you a few of mine if you’ll tell me some of yours... when you’re ready.”
Taylor’s gaze drifted lazily over the length of his battered body and then returned to his drooping eyelids. In spite of all that had happened to him, his concerns were for her. This didn’t quite mesh with her earlier impression of this man. Had he always been this sensitive and she’d missed it? Or was it that her guard was down?
Whichever, she was glad when he closed his eyes, glad that he didn’t see the moisture brimming in her own.
She tiptoed from the room and stopped at the front desk, where she’d left her two bags from the airport. They were light, and the distance to her apartment was short, so she decided to walk. The cool evening breeze revived her, and she thought that sometime soon she should make arrangements to get her car from the ranch. Yet in her grief even this little detail seemed to overwhelm her.
She entered her quiet second-floor apartment and just stood in the middle of the warm dusky room, bags still in hand, not knowing what to do next. Time passed, she wasn’t sure how much, before she remembered something important. She walked to her bedroom, opened one bag and found what she was looking for. Gently she lifted the two calico-covered journals and pressed them to her chest.
At last the tears spilled freely. She dropped on the bed and let them come. There was no one watching; she no longer needed to be brave. And when the tears had run their course, she opened her nightstand, slipped the books inside and gently closed the drawer, knowing it would be some time before she was ready to face such personal pages. Someday she would read them. Every word. Then she would know her mother’s fears.
A chill trailed through her as she crawled into her cold bed and closed her eyes. The old love seat in the Ann Arbor attic, with its loose floorboards beneath, were her last waking thoughts.
John Phillips traipsed up the attic stairs and braced his weight on one arm of the old love seat. A hand-crocheted throw lay folded neatly over the opposite arm. He remembered the hours of contentment on his wife’s face as she’d pulled each stitch of it while patiently awaiting the birth of Taylor.
Memories. There were so many good ones.
Yet there were bad times, too—one nightmare that cut so deep he had been certain at the time that the pain would never leave him, but with the help of God their marriage had more than survived. It had found peace and love again.
Weary to the bone, he lifted the end of the love seat and hunkered down to remove the loose planks. His fingers paused over the cracks in the wood, remembering the time years ago when he’d discovered the journals and the days after when he’d decided not to tell Angela.
Finally he would destroy the only remaining evidence of that dreaded time in their lives. He lifted the boards and stared at the empty space below. Stunned, he sat down with a thump. It had been years since he’d looked here. Perhaps Angela had destroyed them long ago. He rubbed his chest as if it would slow the pounding of his heart. Surely the children hadn’t found the journals. Had they?
No. It was unthinkable. If they had, they would have said something. He would have seen the questions in their eyes, a change of some sort.
When his pulse slowed, he returned the boards and love seat to their original place, picked up the handmade throw and took it with him down the stairs, clutching the treasure to him and reassuring himself that the secret was safe at long last.
Four
The scrapes and bruises on Josh’s face and arms disappeared over the next couple of weeks, and although no feeling had returned to his legs, his smile seemed as optimistic as ever.
Taylor watched him flex his biceps as he pulled himself up to the bar over his chest. He had long ago abandoned hospital garb in favor of his own white T-shirts, which fit snugly over his well-worked torso. Thankfully his shoulder had healed well. The effects of hard work with his upper body was evident. And distracting. Yes, she was glad to see him working out, though she’d seen other patients do the same, and their results hadn’t left her weak in the knees.
“So...when do I get out of here?” Josh asked.
She made herself look at his face, which was no small feat. “That’s not for me to decide,” she said with a forced calm. He pulled himself up and down on the bar some more, showing off his strength. In the past she’d thought hunky bodies meant empty brains. It seemed where Josh Malone was concerned, she was usually wrong. Her visits at his bedside had proved it time and again.
“Well, I can get myself in and out of a wheelchair without a problem. Don’t you think I could do the rest at home just as easily?”
Shane and Jenny sauntered into the room before Taylor could answer, buying her time to compose her racing thoughts. If Josh went home, was she ready to move to the ranch? To work so closely with him day after day?
Shane backhanded Josh’s shoulder. “You causing problems again, little bro?”
“Me?” He looked offended, then smiled. “I just want to get out of here and start walking, that’s all.”
Jenny planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. “You’d better pretty soon.” She smoothed her cotton top over her ever-growing belly and locked her fingers below the big bulge. “Does it look like we can wait forever? Remember your promise, Joshua!”
Taylor watched the family interplay from the foot of the bed and thought of Michael and her father. She missed them more than ever and envied the easy camaraderie of the Malones.
Josh cocked his head and frowned at Jenny. “What promise?”
“You know very well what promise...to be our backup plan if these babies decide to come quickly. Who else can fly us here to the hospital?”
Shane tugged his wife closer. “I could try. Couldn’t do much worse than Josh.”
“Very funny,” Josh said, yet his expression didn’t register amusement. He seemed distracted by something and Taylor wondered what. Was he afraid to fly again? She sure would be.
Shane punched his shoulder. “Come on. Lighten up. Since when did you take yourself so seriously?”
Josh stared at his legs and Shane looked as though he’d been stabbed in the gut. He shuffled his feet and then continued. “That Cessna dealer called last night. Said your new plane will be ready soon.”
Taylor studied Josh’s reaction, but she couldn’t be sure how he felt about the news, and he didn’t comment.
Jenny tugged at Shane’s arm. “We’re going to be late for my appointment if we don’t get going.” She bussed Josh’s cheek again and stepped back, taking Shane’s hand. She hesitated at the foot of the bed, and Taylor met her questioning look. In that brief instant she thought she saw a challenge in Jenny’s eyes that seemed to be saying, Will you be there for him when he needs you most? How much do you really care?
“See you later,” Jenny said, talking to Josh, but still sizing up Taylor.
Taylor picked up Josh’s chart and pretended not to notice.
Though later that night, on the slow walk home, she asked herself the imagined question, How much did she really care?
Just before leaving the hospital she’d told Max she would move out to the ranch—temporarily, of course—and he’d seemed glad. Too much time alone at her apartment had left her indulging her grief far more than she thought she would at the ranch, surrounded by others.
With a heavy heart, she entered her building and trudged up the stairs, knowing there was something else on her mind.
It was time to begin reading her mother’s journals.
Today was my first day back to work since Taylor was born and what a day of emotion it was! Dropping my precious little toddler off at the sitter’s was like ripping my heart from my chest. Those sad blue eyes when I said goodbye filled me with such guilt. I was tempted to scoop her up in my arms and take her home with me, but I didn’t, which made me feel so very selfish.
Why can’t I be like other women who are happy being full-time moms? I love my time with Taylor, but I missed nursing and the company of adults who talked in complete sentences.
When I got to the hospital everyone seemed pleased to see me. There was even a “Welcome Back” banner hanging in the nurses’ lounge. I called the sitter twice to be certain Taylor was doing well and was grateful to hear she was making new friends and adjusting quickly.
I was a little worried about getting back into the routine at the hospital, but it was as though I had never left. Max was busier than I ever remembered him. Students rushed after him from one postop patient to the next, hanging on his every word. It was good to see him again and something of a surprise. When he returned home to Montana the last time, I didn’t expect to see him again. I missed him like crazy, but it was for the best that he left when he did. His three sons are still young, the youngest only a few years older than Taylor. How he manages to live with weekend visits, I’ll never understand. He occasionally talks of the boys with a faraway look of tenderness on his face, but then it always turns sad and he changes the subject.
Poor Max. I can’t imagine days away from my family. Even though today passed quickly—and I must confess I loved being back—ten hours away from Taylor was long enough. And oh, the joy in my heart when she flung her chubby little arms around my neck and said, “Mommy, Mommy!”
John was rather cool with me over dinner and didn’t want to hear about my day. I wish he could understand why I needed to go back. I wish he could trust that I won’t let my other job hurt our little girl. In time I hope he’ll see I made the right decision.
Taylor closed the journal and returned it to the drawer, then brushed the tears from her cheeks. As much as it hurt to know she would never feel her arms around her mother’s neck again, she drew comfort from Mom’s words of love and knew she would treasure every page. Theirs had been a special relationship that would remain in her heart forever.
She closed her eyes and let the exhaustion of the day begin to claim her, making one last mental note. Someday she would have to assure Dad that Mom’s working had never hurt anything.
As she fell asleep, she wondered why he ever thought it would.
Ryder and Shane loaded the last box into the back of Shane’s Explorer, and Taylor squeezed into a space behind Ryder’s seat that had been left for her. Josh had gone home with Max earlier in the afternoon, a fact that had excited him and unnerved Taylor.
The men in the front talked shop and tried to include her from time to time, but Taylor was glad for some time to gather her wits. Now that the move was actually taking place, she had second thoughts. She reminded herself that she would have private quarters, that she would still have other patients at the clinic, that many others would be around. Yet in the end, all her thoughts were on Josh and the many hours they would spend alone. And the same old questions haunted her.
How much did she care?
How much did she dare?
When Taylor entered the side door of the ranch, Savannah and Jenny stopped talking with Hannah, and they all stared at her in a way women look when they’ve been caught gossiping about the person who just walked in. Savannah was the first to step forward, but not before a quick wink at Jenny.
“Here, let me take one of those bags,” she said, lightening Taylor’s load. “Come on, Jen, let’s show her the lucky room.” Savannah started up the back stairs that led from the kitchen and Taylor followed, hearing Jenny right behind her.
“Lucky room?” Taylor asked.
“Did I say that?” Savannah kept moving and didn’t look back. “I meant pretty room. Actually it’s more than a room.” She stopped at the threshold and let Taylor precede her.
Stunned at what she saw, Taylor stopped and took in her new surroundings. An old four-poster bed fit snugly between a pair of cross-paned windows, covered in Priscilla-style curtains. A large archway led to a cozy sitting room, complete with a fireplace. Next to her was a private bath, the aroma of scented soaps and potpourri drawing her into the room. She set her load on the floor and pivoted toward the girls.
“It’s beautiful.” She glanced around, taking in the many antiques and oak-framed watercolors that graced the walls. “I might never want to go home.” She chuckled and looked back to the women, whom she caught smiling at each other before they walked in.
Jenny waddled to a window and gazed out. “Brings back many memories...this room.”
Savannah deposited Taylor’s bag near the closet. “We both stayed in this room when we first visited the ranch. I’m sure you’ll be quite comfortable here.”
Jenny’s gaze turned from the window to Taylor and hung there, in that disconcerting way of hers. “Well, I have to get dinner ready. The men are probably in saying hello to Josh, but they should be up soon with the rest of your things.” She left the room and Savannah moved closer, finally pulling Taylor into a quick embrace.
“Welcome to Joeville, Taylor.” She stepped back and cupped Taylor’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here for Josh. I’m sure he’ll test your patience, but we’re all so grateful you can help.”
She couldn’t promise anything, she wanted to say. Suddenly she felt as though the pressure of making Josh walk fell squarely on her shoulders, that the entire family expected nothing short of his full recovery.
Ryder and Shane burst through the doorway with the rest of her things and Taylor expelled the breath she’d been holding.
“I’ll do my best,” she said to Savannah.
Savannah eyed her and smiled. “I know you will.”
When Savannah peeked her head in a couple of hours later, Taylor had found places for all her belongings and was shutting the drawer on the nightstand where she’d hidden her mother’s journals beneath a scrapbook of family photos.
“Dinner’s in five minutes. Hope you’ve worked up a good appetite. Jenny’s outdone herself.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right down.”
Savannah disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived and Taylor dropped onto the side of the bed. The time to face Josh and the task ahead was about to begin. Tonight they would both rest, but tomorrow it would all start—the hard work, the hours together, the nearness of their bodies, the touching that came with the job. She’d had good-looking male patients before, yet this apprehension had never occurred. Was it because Josh was Max’s son, and that she owed her mentor so much? Was she worried about letting Max down?
Yes.
She pushed off the comforter and puffed out her cheeks.
Who was she kidding? If only it were that simple.
The scent of pot roast and cooked onions rose up to greet her as she descended into the kitchen.
Hannah stopped with her back to the door of the dining room, a tray of iced tea glasses filled to the brim. “Do ya like iced tea, girl? We got other stuff if ya prefer.”
Taylor smiled. “Iced tea’s perfect. Thank you.”
“Well come on, then. Don’t be shy. None of ‘em will bite ya.” Then she cackled. “If they do, they know I’d bite ’em back.”
Taylor laughed and followed Hannah, knowing a heart of gold beat beneath the crusty old housekeeper’s heavy chest. For a moment she forgot her anxiety.
Until she noticed the only empty seat at the long table.
Next to Josh.
And then the Ferris wheel in her stomach started again.
Everyone greeted her as she entered, giving her far too much attention and making it difficult for her to hold eye contact with anyone, until her gaze fell on ten-year-old Billy, his smile so wide that she couldn’t help but smile back.
“I think it’s way cool you’re gonna stay here, Taylor.”
She took her seat, avoiding Josh and keeping her focus on Billy, which for the moment felt safer. “Thank you, Billy.” He beamed back at her and she knew she had discovered the biggest lady-killer of all the Malones.
Max turned to Hannah as she was about to leave the room. “Won’t you join us tonight?”
Hannah waved a chafed hand. “Nah. I gotta plate fixed by the window in the kitchen...where I can watch all my critters. Besides, I’m all tuckered out. Be callin’ it an early night soon as I get my fill.”
When she’d left, Max looked back at little Billy. “Since you’re in such a talkative mood, young man, why don’t you lead us in grace tonight?”
His eyes rounded with panic. “Me?”
“Weren’t you telling me you learned a new way to pray at Sunday school this week?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/anne-eames/last-of-the-joeville-lovers/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.