When It's Right (5 page)

Straight ahead, a wide set of stairs led up to the bedrooms. On the left of the stairs, a set of double doors opened into what looked like a library. Bookshelves lined the wall behind the desk. She wondered what kind of books her grandfather preferred. She loved to read. Maybe her grandfather would let her borrow his books. To the right of the stairs, the dining room led to an archway into the bright kitchen. The smell of chili and chocolate chip cookies filled the air. Her stomach couldn't decide if it wanted to grumble for food or turn over altogether. She hoped she could keep the food down so she could take her meds. She needed them. Bad.

Her grandfather and Dee stood near the entrance to the dining room. Dee, with her sweet voice and smiling face, broke the tension of everyone watching them.

“I thought we could eat first. Then I'll take you up to your rooms. Justin, there's a room next to your sister's with a door between. You can keep it open so you can see her if you like.”

Gillian got a nod even though he was still plastered to her thigh.

“Then let's take our coats off and sit down for a good meal.” Dee and Bud headed into the kitchen and left everyone else to follow.

Gillian helped Justin off with his coat. She smoothed back his hair and leaned down. “Fever check.” She pressed her lips to his forehead. He put his hands up and held her face as she kissed him. “You're hot. I think you need more medicine after you eat something.”

Blake thought his heart had already taken a beating, but seeing her kiss Justin to check his temperature made it flip over again.

“You smell like him,” Justin said. A tear slid from his big round eyes.

Gillian stood and wiped away the tears with her thumbs. She pulled the jacket off. “I know. I don't like it either, but I couldn't buy a new jacket. I tried to wash it, but there isn't enough soap and water in the world to get the smell out. I'll burn this thing as soon as I can afford my own.”

Blake ripped the offending coat from her grasp, walked to the fireplace, and tossed it in to burn. He turned from the fire and saw her for the first time. Her mouth hung open in surprise, but the rest of her held his attention. About five-­foot-­three. Dee was right, she couldn't weigh more than a fairy. Her jeans, which she should have filled out nicely, hung on her hips. The simple white T-­shirt didn't hide her soft curves. A bandage wrapped around her upper right arm peeked out from her sleeve.

Annoyed, she pulled off her glasses, revealing one eye nearly swollen shut and as darkly bruised as her cheek and jaw. His only thought was that she'd been right. The man had needed killing.

The jacket had hidden her hair, but now it hung halfway down her back. More blonde than brown, though the dancing flames highlighted the red and gold and brown throughout. It had been pulled back tight around her head, but now that it was loose, it seemed to take on a life of its own. It literally bounced up and filled out with soft waves.

They waited for him to explain his behavior, but words failed him. She literally took his breath away. Justin watched him with guarded eyes, standing half hidden behind his sister.

“There you go, little one,” he said to Justin, then looked at Gillian. “I don't like seeing children cry or women hurt.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the sofa, walked toward her, and held it out at arm's length, saying, “Until I get you a new one.” He stood as far away from her as he could while still giving her the chance to take the jacket.

“I can't take your coat.”

“Sure you can. You don't want to be cooped up in the house. Besides, if you decide to run—­not that anyone here will give you a reason to do so—­you'll need the coat.”

Gillian's eyes narrowed. She wasn't stupid. She'd need a coat here. Still, she didn't want to outright admit he was right about her plans if this didn't work out. She snatched the coat from his hand and took another step away.

He hated she felt the need and wished he had a quick solution to put her at ease.

She held the jacket to her chest, tilted her head, and smelled it.

So, not so indifferent and afraid of him. He hid a smile. It was a start, but it was still a long way from what he wanted.

Embarrassed she'd been caught, her eyes went soft and her steady gaze fell away for a second.

Trying to keep things casual, he said, “Let's eat, I'm starving.”

He grabbed their bags and moved past a stunned and bewildered Gillian to set them by the stairs. He looked up the long staircase. “How are you going to get up those on your own? You barely made it up the porch steps.”

“I'll manage.”

He turned back to her and stared. “Is that your real hair color?”

“Is that yours?” she countered.

“I was born with brown, and the sun took care of the rest.”

“My mother used to say that all my indecision is in my hair.”

His gaze swept over her, taking in the cast on one arm that went up to her elbow, the bandage wrapped around her wrist on the other, the line of stitches that started at her hairline behind her ear and went down her neck and under the collar of her shirt. Blake thought about that picture of her lying on top of the car after going through a window and wondered just how bad the glass had sliced her up.

“How much damage is hiding under your shirt?” He imagined there was a lot she was still hiding.

“Enough,” she said to his softly asked question.

“She looks like a sewn-­up rag doll.” Justin went around the back of her and pulled up her shirt. “See.” His mouth turned down into a sad frown. “You're bleeding again.”

Gillian grabbed the edge of her shirt and pulled it down. Not fast enough though. Blake got a glimpse of the bruising on her side that went up to her ribs.

“Bruises like that. Hurts to breathe, right? Let me have a look at the cuts.”

“No.”

“But you're bleeding.” He tried to take a step toward her, and she took two back. He stopped. “I won't hurt you.”

“Let's go eat. Justin needs to take his medicine and get some rest. It's been a long few days.” Her words came out with a deliberate calm that did not match the wariness in her eyes.

“And what about what you need?” he asked.

“I need to be left alone.”

Frustrated she wouldn't let him help her, he held his hand out wide and indicated the kitchen. “After you.” She shook her head no. Stubborn, mistrustful woman. He let her have her way and walked ahead of her. He'd get a look at her back if he had to sneak up on her to do it.

He'd need more patience than he had at the moment to earn her trust. The reckless boy inside him wanted to push, but he'd done that in the past without thinking of the consequences, and others had paid the price. Never again. He rustled up some calm. If he pushed too hard and upset her, or, God help him, she decided to leave, Bud would have his head. And quite possibly kick him off his land.

 

Chapter 7

G
illian walked into the kitchen with Justin securely wrapped around her leg. Another spectacular, too-­pretty-­to-­touch room. Windows dominated two sides, while the third was engulfed in cabinets and the cooking area, which contained a large stainless steel refrigerator and cooktop, a breakfast bar with a white marble countertop, and wrought-­iron stools with tan suede seat cushions. Beautiful. Clean. Nothing like she was used to.

Her grandfather sat at the head of the long farmhouse table, drinking a mug of coffee. Dee bustled about, putting dishes and bowls on the table. Blake moved to the table and took his seat at the other end, like he'd done it every night of his life. He'd probably been eating in this kitchen for years. It struck her how much he belonged here. She didn't, and it was another blow to her heart that she couldn't ever remember feeling like she belonged anywhere.

“I hope you're all hungry. There's lots. We've even got fresh baked cookies for dessert.” Dee smiled down at Justin as she put another bowl on the table.

Justin looked up at Gillian. She read the question in his eyes. “It's chili.”

“I don't like chili.”

“You can try it, at least.” Tired to the bone, she didn't want to deal with a tantrum tonight. She wanted to sit down or fall down. At the moment, falling down raced toward the lead.

“You don't like chili?” her grandfather asked Justin. “Well now, I think my Dee could find something you do like. She's got the best-­stocked kitchen in the whole state.”

Justin peeked out around her leg at the big man. His smile was nice, not mean. Sometimes their father smiled so mean it scared you. Gillian patted Justin's back to reassure him.

“That I do, honey. What would you like? How about a nice grilled cheese sandwich? I have some leftover bacon from this morning we could put inside,” Dee suggested.

Blake objected from the table. “Hey, you said there wasn't any more bacon this morning.”

“You should be thanking me for that. I was saving your heart.”

Blake fake pouted, and Dee gave him a placating smile. They seemed so easy with each other. Like a family should be. Yep, he fit, and she didn't, because she had no idea how to do that
thing
that came so easy to them.

Justin looked up at her. “Speak up,” Gillian said. “She's willing to go out of her way to make you something. If you want it, then say so.”

He nodded his head yes at Dee.

“Excuse me, I didn't hear you,” Gillian reprimanded.

“I would like the sandwich.”

“And what do you say?” Gillian coaxed him even more, trying her best to teach him the manners their father never used. Treating others with respect and kindness was important. She hoped the lessons she taught him now lasted far into his adulthood.

“Please.”

Tears threatened in Dee's eyes. “Grilled cheese with bacon.” Her words came out around a lump in her throat. “I've got some soda and milk in the fridge. I was expecting that might be what you wanted, Gillian. I'll get some juice for you, Justin, tomorrow. What kind do you like?”

Again he looked up at Gillian. Here was some of that pride she was going to have to swallow. Sure enough, it tasted sour. She needed her grandfather's help to feed Justin until she could work again. Until then, they were depending on the roof over their heads and the food her grandfather provided.

“Orange juice,” she suggested.

“I don't like orange juice.”

“Then I suggest you tell her what you do like.” Gillian pulled him off her thigh and kneeled on her good knee in front of him, her braced leg out to her side. “I'm here with you, Justin. I promise you that I won't let anyone hurt you. But you have to learn to speak for yourself. What did I tell you before we came?”

“What you always say?”

“And what is that?” She put her hands on his little chest, and he put his hands on her shoulders.

“We have to try. If it doesn't work, at least we tried. Then we'll find a better way.”

“That's right. If we don't try, we don't know if we can.”

“Amen to that,” Blake interjected from the table. As if she needed the reminder he was there, listening to every word, staring at her.

“Try doesn't mean one way, it means all the ways,” Justin recited.

She kissed him on the head. “You're so smart.”

“Fruit punch and grape juice,” he said to Dee.

Uncomfortable with everyone staring at her, Gillian glanced at her grandfather. “I brought his school records. I need to enroll him in kindergarten here.”

“There's a school bus. We'll get him registered and on the route. They'll pick him up out front at the road and drop him off. You'll like the school. They remodeled a few years back. They've got a great play-­yard and nice teachers,” he added.

“Monday, buddy. You're off to school.”

“Oh man.”

“No ‘oh mans.' Please go take your seat at the table.”

Her heart fluttered when he bounced over to the table and looked at the two seats between his grandfather and Blake. She waited to see what he'd do. He took the seat next to his grandfather and kicked his feet back and forth under the table. He wasn't afraid of the men. Her grandfather smiled. Justin actually smiled back, and she relaxed, pleased with his first courageous step into their new life here.

Still kneeling on the floor on one knee, she wondered how stupid she was to have gotten herself stuck in this position. Of course Blake noticed. The man hadn't stopped staring at her. Why? He liked her? He didn't? He thought she was here to take advantage of her grandparents? What? At least he kept his distance.

She rolled back on her heel and used her thigh muscles to lift herself up. When she was back on her feet, she swayed, and put her hand to her head. Blake popped up out of his chair so fast and came toward her that she barely had time to back up three steps before he got to her.

“I'm fine. I just stood up too fast.”

“You aren't fine. Everyone in this room can see you aren't fine. Sit down before you fall down,” Blake ordered.

“After you.”

After a tense stare-­down, he went back to the table and took his seat.

“Stubborn.” Just to rile her, he used his foot to push out the chair between him and Justin. She might have wanted him to back off, but she was still going to have to sit next to him.

She took the seat. She wanted to lean back and rest, but she couldn't because of her back. She put her forearms on the armrests and slouched her back to relieve some of the tension and pain.

“Don't you have any pain meds to take?” Blake asked.

“I did.”

“Where are they? I'll get them.”

“They burned in the fireplace along with the jacket.” She continued to stare at her plate and breathe as evenly as she could without hurting her ribs.

Blake sat back. He put both hands over his face and ran them through his hair. “Shit. I'm sorry, Gillian. I never meant . . .”

Justin looked at his hands in his lap. “He swore. That's bad.”

Gillian put her hand over Justin's, trying to reassure him that Blake's swearing wasn't the same as their father going into a rage. “It's fine. Don't worry about it.”

“You have to eat two helpings of vegetables,” Justin said, staring at Blake.

Blake didn't say a word but piled two big helpings of salad on his plate. He speared a tomato and a bunch of lettuce with his fork, dragged it through some ranch dressing, and stuffed it in his mouth. Justin smiled and relaxed beside her.

Stunned that Blake would go along with her rule for herself and Justin, she glanced at Blake, thinking she should say something to thank him for putting Justin at ease, but for the life of her, no words came to mind. She stared, trying to figure him out. The whole time, he took one bite after another of his salad, doing his penance for swearing without a word or outward sign he resented it. In fact, he cocked up one side of his mouth in amusement when she stared at him too long, so she quickly looked away.

Dee set the sandwich in front of Justin.

Gillian nudged his arm when he tried to pick it up. “What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

Dee smiled across the table. “You're welcome. Please, everyone. Eat.”

All the food got passed around the table, from her grandfather to Dee to Blake, who served Gillian up a huge bowl of chili, cornbread, and a large plate of salad with dressing. “Eat. All of it.”

She shut her mouth with a hard click of her teeth so she wouldn't cuss him out for ordering her around in front of Justin.

She took the first bite and sighed. So good. “Thank you, Dee. This is amazing.”

“You're welcome. I'm glad you like it.”

Gillian did, so she ate her fill, ignoring the crackle of awareness with the too-­gorgeous-­for-­his-­own-­good man beside her.