Home for a Soldier (19 page)

“No.” Grace released a troubled sigh.
“Rory and Doug are friends. It would just create more problems. And I’m not
taking any sides. I’ve offered to arrange for you to see Debbie, that’s all.”

“Okay. When do you want me to come
over?”

“Now,” Grace said. “Can you come
right away?”

“Sure. I’ve just shown a condo on
Mercer Street so I’m not far from you.  I can be there in thirty minutes.”

Grace put the phone down, and
although she had been talking to someone else, the little click sounded like the
snapping of the final bond between her and Rory.

While she waited for Orlando to
arrive, she packed her belongings in a suitcase and two black trash bags. As she
sorted through the roll-top bureau in the living room, she came across the
letter Rory had left for his parents.

Only send it after I have taken my
last breath.

Grace inspected the envelope. The
address was on Park Avenue. She couldn’t believe Rory hadn’t contacted his
family despite living in the same city. After a brief struggle with her
conscience, she pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a large envelope.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan,

 
I’m a friend of Rory’s. He left me this letter to forward to you in the event of
his death. He was injured a few weeks ago, and although his physical recovery is
progressing well, he needs the support of his family. I’ve taken the liberty of
ignoring his wishes and sending this letter to you. If you decide to contact
him, please don’t tell him what I’ve done.

 
Sincerely,
Grace Clements

She asked Orlando to stop by the post
office on the way to his apartment and dropped the letter through the slot.
Whatever Rory wanted his parents to know, they ought to discover while he was
alive. His tense words had made it clear that he regretted the rift, but had too
much pride to seek reconciliation.

Grace believed that she was acting in
his best interest, but breaking her promise to Rory added to the distress of
letting him go.

* * * *

Rory clicked on another medical
website, researching the best ways to cure insomnia. He’d tried everything and
nothing worked. It tore him up not to sleep beside Grace last night after they
made love, but he hadn’t wanted her to witness his battle with tortured dreams.
If only he could make his nights more peaceful, he could sleep next to Grace
without frightening her.

All day, he replayed their reunion in
his mind, every kiss, every touch, every whispered word. Peace filled him for
having given up the battle to keep his distance. He’d been a fool. Punishing
himself didn’t bring back the dead.

He needed Grace. Maybe one day, her
love would heal the scars in his heart.

His eyes flicked to the clock at the
bottom of the computer screen. Six o’clock. She should be home by now. He
carried on with his research. An hour later, worry started to play ugly tricks
his mind.

Maybe Grace had caught her heel in an
air vent and sprained an ankle. Maybe she’d been mugged. Or knocked down by a
car. On and on, his thoughts raced from one potential disaster that lurked in a
big city to the next. In the end, Rory shook his head in frustration. He mustn’t
succumb to irrational fears that another person he sought to protect had
suffered harm.

He crossed the hall to Grace’s room
and entered. Terror kicked in his gut. No trace remained of Grace. No alarm
clock or photograph stood on the nightstand. No clothes hung draped over the
single chair. He yanked open the closet door, found nothing but a row of empty
wire hangers that rattled in the blast of air.

Rory hurried to fetch his cell phone,
dialed a number stored in the memory. “Stu? It’s Rory Sullivan. Sorry to disturb
you in the evening. Do you know where Grace is?”

“No,” Stuart Ashton said. “Isn’t she
at home?”

“Was she in the office today?”

“Yes, but she took the afternoon off.
I thought you might be going away. I assumed you had finally come to your senses
and were taking her to
Newport
for the weekend.”

“My parents might be there.”

“That’s what I meant,” Stuart said
with emphasis. “High time you introduced Grace to them.”

Rory closed his mind to the
possibility that Stuart might be right. “Mind you own business.”

“I’m minding yours,” Stuart pointed
out. “That’s what you pay me for, remember?”

“She’s gone.” Rory’s chest tightened.
“Grace has moved out.”

“I’m sorry.” Stuart’s voice grew
serious. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. She was like a ghost while you were in
the hospital, and when you came back, she started working late all the time.
What the hell are you doing? Can’t you let go of the past?”

“I don’t know.” Rory expelled a long
sigh. “I really don’t know, Stu.” He paused. “Just in case I can’t find Grace
over the weekend, I want you to call me on Monday morning the minute she gets
in.”

“She asked for the week off.”

“Damn.”

“Now you know,” Stuart said in a dry
tone.

“Now I know what?”

“What Grace went through while you
were in the hospital and didn’t get in touch.”

“Shit,” Rory muttered, guilt flexing
like a fist in his gut. “I need to go out and look for her. Will you call me if
you hear from her?”

“Sure.”

After a hurried goodbye, Rory pressed
a button to end the call, his movements jerky over the handset, as if he’d
suddenly turned into an old man.

Grace was gone, and he only had
himself to blame. Despair had taken hold of him, and he’d sought confirmation of
his human worth from her. If she cared for him, despite the barriers he erected
between them, he had to amount to something.

He had made Grace suffer to ease his
own pain. Would she ever forgive him for the hurt he’d caused?

* * * *

The doorbell tore Rory out of his
sleepless daze. He tumbled out from Grace’s bed, where he’d collapsed fully
clothed after returning from New Jersey. Not trusting Doug and Debbie to tell
him the truth if Grace had sought refuge with them, he had taken the train out.
The pair had convinced him that they truly had no idea where Grace had gone.

Reluctant to get up, Rory left the
soft cotton sheets, which had sheltered Grace only the night before, and still
carried her faint floral scent. Stumbling along, he made his way through the
hall, unlatched the lock, and yanked the front door open.

A couple in their late fifties stood
before him. Shock slammed into his chest, and right behind surged an
overwhelming tide of hope and relief.

“Mom. Dad.” Rory choked out the words
as life spun back ten years to that dreadful afternoon when accusations were
hurled across an echoing hospital corridor. A need for absolution conquered the
bitterness in his mind. He stood before his parents, waiting for them to speak
first.

“Son.” His father took a step forward
then stopped. Age hadn’t diminished his ambassadorial elegance. Pewter hair,
patrician features, finely tailored clothing.

“May we come in,” his mother asked,
wiping away a tear. Grief had etched deep lines around her mouth, and the
careful makeup didn’t soften the brittle look.

Rory didn’t respond. The silence of
ten years stood between them.

His mother’s voice faltered. “Please,
will you hear us out?” She extended her hand, as if wanting to touch him, but at
the last moment conquered the impulse and lowered her arm.

Rory nodded once, but didn’t move
aside to invite them in.

“It wasn’t our intent to blame you,”
his father said. “Shock made us blurt things we didn’t mean.”

“It was my fault,” Rory said flatly.
“I killed her.”

“No,” his mother said. “It was an
accident.”

“I killed her.” The words burst out
on an angry growl as the guilt that had tormented him for ten years finally
found a release. “I was meant to protect her, and I failed.”

“
No
”. Rory’s mother stepped
forward and laid her hand on his arm.

That single point of contact radiated
a sense of comfort over him, like a bridge to the distant past, to the carefree
times when they were a family. His instincts screamed at him to hug her. Bend
his head over her shoulder and let the tears flow, washing off the pain of the
past. But instead, he stood still and waited, although all his nerves seemed to
center on the spot where he felt the slight pressure on his forearm through the
rumpled sweatshirt.

“We failed both of you,” his mother
said. “We understand that now. We didn’t have enough time for you. Either of
you. We didn’t put you first, the way parents should put their children first.”

Over the top of her head, Rory met
his father’s troubled eyes. “Will you forgive us, son?” the older man asked.
“Will you let us be your family again?”

“Please, Rory,” his mother pleaded.
Not waiting for a response, she hurled herself against his chest, jolting his
healing scars, and burst into tears.

Rory finally allowed himself to wrap
his arms around her and hold her close. As he listened to her sobbing, the ice
in his veins began to melt.

* * * *

Rory picked up his cell phone and
barked his name, not taking his eyes from the columns of figures on the computer
screen. The gap of ten years hadn’t blunted his easy grasp of financial ratios,
although the new software took some getting used to.

“Rory?”

At the sound of Stuart’s voice, Rory
forgot the investments he’d been reviewing. “Is Grace there?” he hurried to ask.

“Yeah. She returned to work this
morning. Pale and tired, but she’s here.”

“Did she say where she’s been?”

“No, and I didn’t ask.”

“Thanks, Stu. I’ll call you later. I
have some family news to talk over with you.”

“I know. Your father called me
yesterday.”

“He’s on his way here with a stack of
paperwork for me to sign. From tomorrow, you’ll be dealing with me on all
aspects of Green Gables Trust.”

“Welcome back on board.”

“Thanks.” Rory hung up and dialed
Grace’s number at Mayfield Investments.

“Grace Clements.”

“Grace. It’s me. Rory.”

The pause seemed endless. “I’m sorry
I left without saying goodbye,” Grace said finally. “Although that seems to be
the pattern between us.”

The forlorn tone of her voice pierced
him with a sharp stab of guilt, but his rigid muscles eased with relief because
she hadn’t hung up on him. “At least I left you a note when I cleared out in
Vegas,” he reminded her.

“A note which contained nothing but
an address.”

Regret seized him over the truth in
her words, over everything he had done that might have caused her hurt.

“Why did you leave?” he asked.” Just
when I had—”

The doorbell buzzed.

“Can you hold on, Grace, I’ve got to
get the door?”

Rory let his father in and, with a
silent gesture at the cell phone in his hand, retreated into his room,

“Sorry. It’s my father. He got here
earlier than expected.”

“Your father?” Grace asked.

“Yeah. We’re on speaking terms
again.”

“I’m sorry.”

A sound of disbelief rose in his
throat. “You’re sorry that I’ve reconciled with my parents?”

“No…I’m sorry for breaking my promise
to you.”

“You broke your promise to me?” He
spoke the words slowly, casting a net through his mind to recall the promises
she had made.

“Yes. I—”

“Where are you staying, Grace?” he
interrupted, in a hurry to secure the information in case she cut the
conversation short.

“I’m staying with Orlando.”

“Orlando?” Rory asked. All at once,
the recollection flooded his mind. His own terse demand and Graces calm response
.
“I want you to promise that you won’t sleep with another man as long as we
remain married. Will you promise me that?”

She had given a promise, and now she
had broken it.

Disbelief fought with the jealousy
that clenched in his gut, making his body shake with the effort of not roaring
out his protest at the thought of his wife in someone else’s arms.

Grace didn’t give herself lightly. If
she slept with a man, she cared for him, hoped for a shared future. It wasn’t
possible.
No
. His mind screamed out the denial, and yet Grace had just
told him so.

“I’m coming over, Grace. We need to
talk. Sort this out.”

Her sharp intake of breath sounded
too loud in his ears. “Please, Rory, don’t. I’ve never asked you for anything,
but I’m asking you now. Please promise that you won’t try to see me. At least
not for a while. Right now, I need some space and distance.”