Falling for Grace (Four Winds) (11 page)

"Mmm…so nice…"  Rafe's voice in her head brought her up short, but before she could react, voices from the stairs caught her attention.

"Oh, that looks worse than it is.  We'll have him bandaged up and metal free in no time."  A cheery man wearing scrubs was coming down the stairs, followed by two men with a stretcher.  Grace stood on shaking knees, clutching Rafe's limp hand in hers.

"Can I stay with him?"  She suddenly felt desperate, and didn't want to lose sight of him.

"Afraid not.  You can go see if there are a couple of cots next to each other in the main room, though."  He gestured down a hallway.  "Get some rest.  We'll bring him out shortly."  Handing her the back pack that he'd removed from Rafe's shoulders, he strode off to follow the men with the stretcher.

Feeling deflated, Grace turned in the direction the surgeon had gestured and looked for the main room.  She finally found a gymnasium with cots in it, but they were all full of men, women, and children, in various stages of despair.  Like her, all of these people had probably lost their homes and all of their possessions.  Realizing that Rafe was more important than her clothes, Grace found a vacant corner and sunk down in it dropping the backpack next to her.

People were subdued, but there was a desperate energy pulsing through the cavernous room, nonetheless.  Everybody here had escaped the floodwaters and winds with only what they could carry, and nobody knew what they would go home to once this was over.  Grace looked around to see that most everybody was in their own little world, quietly staring into space, or resting with their eyes closed.  She suspected that few were actually sleeping.  There were a couple of clusters of people talking in hushed tones, but for the most part, it was quiet.

Rummaging around in the backpack, she found cans of tuna, a couple of tubes of crushed crackers, and some fruit, in addition to a change of clothes in the garbage bag.

Not feeling the least bit modest, Grace immediately changed out of her smelly, soaked jeans, into a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt.  Dumping her wet clothes in a pile next to her, she bit into an apple and opened a can of tuna to eat with her fingers.  She hadn't realized how hungry she was, but walking four blocks through all that water, carrying Rafe part of the way had really taken it out of her. 

She munched on cracker crumbs, staring distractedly into space until she felt a pair of eyes on her.  Looking up, she saw a young girl, no older than about five, staring at her apple.

"Do you want one?  I think I have an extra."  Grace dug in the bag, finding another apple, and held it out to the girl.  She looked over her shoulder at an exhausted looking woman, who was watching her with a glazed look in her eyes, before reaching for the piece of fruit.

"Thank you."  The little girl spoke softly, as she looked at Grace through lowered lashes.

"I like your manners.  You must be a sweet little girl," Grace said.

The little girl puffed up under the praise, and she raised glowing eyes to Grace.

"What's your name?"  The tiny voice was difficult to hear over the noise of the big room.

"My name's Grace.  What's yours?"

"Abigail."

"Well, Abigail, it's a pleasure to meet you."  She held out her hand to the little girl to shake, and Abigail did, a self-important look on her face.  Grace patted the floor next to her, and the little girl sat.  They finished their snack in silence, and Grace felt the adrenaline of the day recede.  Her limbs felt heavy, and her eyelids began to droop.

"Hey, I'm going to lie down and take a little nap.  Is that okay?"  Grace glanced over to the girl's mother, who was watching her intently.  She offered a smile and received a relieved smile in return.

Abigail stood and ran back to her mother without another word, and Grace laid down, resting her head on the scrunched up backpack for a pillow.  She was asleep almost instantly.

She dreamed of Rafe.  She knew it was a dream, because she had opened her eyes and everything was green, as if a green filter had been placed over the lights in the room, bathing everything in a green glow. 

In the dream, he was holding her tight, as she lay on the cold floor of the gymnasium, his head nuzzled in the back of her neck, his body pressed tightly along the length of hers.  She felt warm and secure, and…cherished.  Grace felt cherished by Rafe, as if he would do anything in his power to protect her.  She squirmed around in his arms, until she was facing him, still pressed against his long, lean body.

"Rafe?"  His green eyes penetrated hers, his gaze holding a longing that ripped at her pounding heart.  The white-hot heat in her belly took over her sensations.

He smiled at her encouragingly.  "Yes, Grace?"  His voice was soft, warm, and reminded her of a warm bath, filled with bubbles, tickling her skin.  In fact, she wished she was in a warm bubble bath right now: candle light, soft music, no tornado ripping ceilings off.  His smile widened, and his pupils dilated.  If Grace didn't know any better, she'd think he'd somehow read her mind.  Of course, this was a dream, he probably did.

"What does all of this mean?"  She wasn't sure what she was asking.  If she was talking about the dream, the storm, her feelings, the heat in her belly, the voice, or Rafe in general, with all of his…otherworldliness.

He kissed her forehead, a warm, wet kiss that made her shiver.  "It means that you're mine."  He closed his eyes and snuggled his head into her shoulder, inhaling deeply, as if trying to smell her insides.  His arms tightened around her, and his breathing evened out, as he fell asleep.  Grace shivered again, unable to contain her emotions.

What did
that
mean?  She's his?  But she wasn't.  She was her own person.  Not someone else's possession.

She remembered the kiss they had shared, right before the tornado.  It had been unlike any single experience she'd ever had.  His words right before, about his intentions to be more than friends, his hands on her face, in her hair, on her shoulder.  Was this a dream?  It seemed so real…She could feel Rafe's breath on her shoulder now, deep even breaths, his legs wrapped around hers.  But the green haze was still covering everything, so this had to be a dream.  Besides, Rafe couldn't read minds, and just now, he had definitely reacted to the bathtub thing.

Grace snuggled deeper in Rafe's embrace, feeling his heart beat next to her chest, and soon went back to sleep.

Grace awoke to find the backpack pillow had been replaced with a muscular thigh, and someone was lazily stroking her hair back from her face.  Keeping her eyes closed, she enjoyed the sensations that the large hands evoked.  Smooth fingertips, running along her hairline, tickling across her scalp, tingling nerve endings, pooling warmth in her chest and belly…

She opened her eyes to see Rafe's head leaning back against the wall behind him, eyes closed, with a small smile gracing his lips.  Without thinking, she raised her arm and stroked his strong jaw, making his head droop forward, and his eyes open.  His green gaze made her stomach flip.

"Hey there.  Did you sleep well?"  His voice was low and husky, laden with…desire?

She looked around herself.  She was still on the floor of the gymnasium, with her head in Rafe's lap.  She looked down at his leg, neatly wrapped in bandages.  Remembering how he'd passed out, she started to sit up, alarmed.  His hand moved to her chest, to keep her down.

"Relax, I'm okay.  And you're helping to stop the bleeding, by cutting off a little circulation."  He chuckled to himself.

"Why aren't you laying in a bed?"  Surely, one of these people would let an injured man have a bed.

"Because these people need a bed just as badly as I do.  I'm alright."

Grace wasn't so sure.  She mumbled something under her breath about machismo, and Rafe chuckled again.

"Besides, I like you here, laying your head in my lap."  His eyes crinkled around the edges in a good-natured smile.

"Aren't you sleepy?  Why don't you lie down for a little while?"  She started to sit up again, but his hand on her chest kept her down.  Again.  She sighed, and gave up, settling back into his lap.

She watched his face.  He looked tired, his skin had paled considerably, and there were dark smudges under his eyes.  His long hair was unbrushed, and wild-looking.  She shuddered, imagining what she looked like.  Probably worse.

"You never answered my question.  Did you sleep well?" 

She nodded.  "Surprisingly, yes.  Considering I'm on a gym floor."

He nodded.  "Good."

"You've got to be tired, Rafe.  You look awful."

His bark of laughter turned heads in their vicinity, but people quickly looked away.  "Thanks, Grace.  I'll be sure and return the compliment, sometime."

"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."

"I guess I am tired.  I feel pretty heavy, still."

That was an odd way to put it, Grace thought to herself.  "You want to lie down next to me?"

He closed his eyes, considering it, and she watched a wave of longing cross his face, before he nodded.  Grunting softly, he scooted himself down, so that he was completely on the floor, and Grace moved next to him.  His arms came around hers in a protective gesture, and he sighed.

"Yes, this is nice, too."

Grace lied still, just enjoying the feel of his arms around her, his body pressed against her back, his legs tangled in hers, his breath on her neck.  She marveled at the intimacy of their posture in this crowded gymnasium.  Nobody seemed to notice, or care however.  Everybody was lost in their own worlds.

Chapter
Thirteen

The next day, Grace was on the phone with the insurance company for hours, trying to sort through the mess that had become her living situation.  Insurance would pay for a motel room, but there were none available, so she sat on hold with one adjuster after another, trying to reconcile her situation.

She listened to an awful Muzak rendition of a popular Guns and Roses song, as her thoughts turned towards her mother.  She wished her mother could give her the comfort that she craved in times like these.  An offer to stay with her, until the island was clean enough for her to return, even if she didn't accept it, would be welcome. 

But the truth was, her mother didn't watch the news, and probably had no idea a hurricane and its destruction had just visited her daughter.  Jeannie was too wrapped up in Carl, and Grace knew that it would take a larger act of God than a hurricane to uncoil Carl's grasp around Jeannie's heart.

Grace sighed, as she listened to the music switch to an automated voice tell her to be sure to ask an agent how much money she could save if she bundled all of her insurance needs.

She wanted to know love.  She couldn't deny that.  And Rafe made her feel good.  Real good.  But Carl made Jeannie feel good, too.  And Jeannie had sacrificed so much of herself to be with Carl that she couldn't remember which end was up half the time.  Grace didn't want that from her relationships, ever.  And Rafe wouldn't be a casual fling.  Something told her that Rafe would want everything she had to give.  And even that wouldn't be enough.  His very persona was all-consuming.  Being around him captured Grace's total attention, to the detriment of all else.

She was scared of what she felt around Rafe.  That much was an absolute truth.  She couldn't even think of him without intense feelings welling up inside her.  She got dizzy, her heart would pound, butterflies in her stomach took flight. She needed to get out of this shelter and put some distance between them before, like a moth and a flame, she got too close and let him consume her.