Winter's End Page 13

  “By choice.”

  “Yes.”

  “So stay.”

  Her heart jack-hammered.

  He moved forward, swallowing her space. “There’s no rule that says you have to go. Stay a while. Give us some time.”

  “I don’t understand.” Oh, but she did. She saw what he was asking, what his eyes were saying and she was tempted until truth struck. How could she risk her heart to a man who shrugged off God? Would he brush her off when things got tough? How would she handle that?

  She wouldn’t handle it. Kayla recognized the thinness of her tough-girl image. Letting Marc in smacked of danger. Kayla had spent eighteen years making sure she was in charge. After her run of foster homes, Kayla worked to maintain her independence as a protective wall.

  No one got through that wall.

  Marc grasped her upper arms. “Look at me. Please.”

  She glanced up. The warmth in his eyes gave her unexpected pleasure. He flashed her a smile, gentle. Sweet. “Think about it.”

  “I can’t.” Her shaky voice betrayed her indecision.

  He angled his head and read her hesitation. “You can. We’ve got months yet.”

  “I plan ahead, Marc. I’ve sent out applications, set wheels in motion.”

  His look stayed calm, but his jaw tightened. “I won’t beg, Kayla, but I’m not afraid to ask, either.” He finished his coffee in a chain of swallows. “Bring your coffee along. We should check Dad.”

  She stared at his retreating back. He turned, humor lighting his eyes, a glimpse of what lay behind the wall of anger. Seeing that, she followed him, trying not to think about what just transpired.

  Kayla had plans. Not one of them included life on a farm resembling Antarctica seven months of the year.

  She wanted waving grasses and twining vines. Cozy gardens, a bucolic setting for a porch swing, perfect for a summer evening’s read. Dahlias and roses, brown-eyed Susans, mauve-rose coneflowers.

  Today’s snow struck the west windows with tiny bounces, miniature hailstones mixed among the flakes. The steady ping…ping…ping sounded austere.

  Kayla had had enough of that by the time she was eleven years old. At twenty-nine, it was long since time to move on.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You have to tell him.” Christy met Kayla’s gaze. “Or transfer your assignment.”

  That wasn’t about to happen. “I can’t.”

  “Because?”

  “They mean a lot to me.”

  “You’re too involved in this family, Kayla, through no fault of your own. You need to back away.”

  “Pete’s slipping,” Kayla argued. “To throw someone else into the mix wouldn’t be right. Yeah, I’m involved. I probably should have removed myself when I learned who Anna was, but I didn’t. Now it’s too late.”

  “It’s not.” Christy moved to the coffeepot and filled her mug. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks.” Kayla refused to think of how cozy she felt having coffee with Marc. She needed to move beyond the emotional and deal with the professional aspects of her dilemma. “I need to stay on this case, Christy. We could be talking days, two weeks at the most. It would be unfair to Pete to change things, and running from the problem doesn’t help.”

  “Then be honest with Mr. DeHollander about your relationship with his deceased wife.” Christy brushed off Kayla’s surprise. “I can’t see what harm that would do. She died peacefully. That’s all he needs to know.”

  “He’ll ask more.”

  “Cite medical confidentiality.” Christy tapped a finger, unhappy. “I’ll be glad when this is done. I should pull you right now…” Her voice trailed. She frowned again.

  “But you won’t because it would make things harder on the family.”

  “My nurses don’t need to bear everyone’s burdens.” She scowled. “Our job is tough enough. But I think the benefits to the patient outweigh the detriment to you.”

  “I agree.” Kayla stood and turned.

  “Kayla.”

  “Yes?”

  “The son? The one who didn’t like you, didn’t trust you? The one who was angry at his father for smoking and causing irreparable harm?”

  “Yes?”

  “He’s doing better? Not as confrontational?”

  Kayla remembered the feel of his hand at her waist, his mouth on hers. The look in his eye that offered more than she dared take. “Um, no. He’s much better, thanks.”

  Christy nodded. “It just takes time, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Kayla cleared her throat. “Time.”

  “All right, then.” Sipping her coffee, Christy nodded. “Keep me informed, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  She wasn’t lying. Marc wasn’t a problem, he was an opportunity, one she didn’t dare consider.

  Kayla stepped outside. Not so cold today. The sun shone brighter and the sky held breaks in the clouds, a pattern of blue and white, a promise of warmer days.

  She’d been in the North Country long enough to understand the shift. The weather would break soon. It would turn cold and wet as opposed to bitter cold and snowy, like that was some sort of reprieve.

  She sighed as she stowed her gear. The higher sun felt good. The wind that ruffled her feathered hair was brisk, not bone-chilling.

  For a brief moment she wondered if winter would seem as long in the arms of someone you loved.

  Of course it would.

  She’d gotten a response from a service just south of D.C. Her résumé had been well-received and they’d offered her a position.

  She refused to think of Marc’s request. He was under a lot of pressure. His father’s death loomed. It wasn’t unheard of for two people to bond in times of hardship.

  Soon she would be out of his home, no longer part of the routine. A sense of normalcy would return to DeHollander Hereford Holdings. Eventually he’d find a nice girl to settle down with. A brood of kids would dash in and out of the old house, toys scattered everywhere. She pictured cookies on the counter and supper in the oven.

  The smell of roasting meat mingled with the scent of chocolate, providing a homey feeling. Glancing right, she realized she was passing the Greek restaurant as they prepared noonday specials.

  Decisive, she edged thoughts of Marc away, but didn’t try to fool herself it was far enough.

  “How’re we doing, Mr. D.?” Kayla inquired, keeping her voice soft. His pallor had increased. His respirations weren’t as deep. They increased in strength and number as he struggled to wakefulness.

  “Kayla.”

  She leaned forward. “I’m here. What’s the progress report?”

  “Rounding third.”

  She nodded and squeezed his hand. “I’d have to agree. How do you feel?”

  He scowled. “Not ready.”

  The succinct words surprised Kayla. “Why not?”

  His frown deepened. He tried to speak, then licked his lips. Kayla eased the dryness with a smidge of ointment to his mouth. “Don’t hurry. We’ve got all day.”

  “One of us does.”

  His dry humor made Kayla smile. She patted his hand and met his eye. “Can I help?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Pete shook his head. “Something I should have done and didn’t.”

  “Your wife?” Saying the words, Kayla knew she needed to reveal her relationship with Arianna.

  Pete glared at the wall. Kayla drew a breath and plunged in. “Mr. D.? I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  Kayla hesitated, then sat. “It’s convoluted. The short of it is, I knew your wife. I took care of her when she passed away.”

  Pete’s shoulders jerked. His head snapped forward. “What?”

  “You have to stay calm if you want me to explain this.” Kayla used her no-nonsense voice. It worked. Pete settled back. Long seconds later, he nodded.

  Kayla faltered, then began. “Nearly three years ago I had a p
atient who meant a great deal to me.”

  Pete watched her, his gaze sharp.

  “Her name was Anna Hernandez.”

  He frowned, then nodded, silent.

  “I was working the medical ward when Anna was admitted. She was dying of complications from HIV.”

  “AIDS.”

  “Yes.”

  “How did she…?” Pete shook his head. “Never mind. I can figure that one out. She was in Potsdam?”

  Kayla nodded. “We were both alone. We bonded.”

  Pete watched her. His hand plucked the comforter’s edge, restive.

  “She taught me about faith. About forgiveness. She’d found her road back to God, but said it was too late for anything else.”

  Sadness darkened Pete’s features. “It was never too late.”

  “I see that now,” Kayla replied. “She said she left her family because she feared she’d hurt them.”

  “Ari wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  Kayla couldn’t agree. “There was a new baby in the house.”

  Pete acknowledged that. “Jess scared her.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I’m sure she did,” he continued. “Jess wasn’t a rough baby, but she was a reminder of things Ari couldn’t face.” He pressed his lips in consternation. “My wife couldn’t forgive herself. Because of that, she decided I couldn’t forgive her, either.” He lifted anguished eyes to Kayla. “But I did. I saw her behavior for what it was, a few weeks that meant nothing once she was back on her meds. But there was Jess to consider.”

  Pressure rose in Kayla’s chest. “What do you mean, Mr. D.?”

  “She didn’t tell you?” He glanced around to be sure Marc hadn’t come in. “That Jess isn’t my biological child?”

  Kayla shook her head. “I just realized who Anna was last week. The picture,” she explained, waving her hand across the bed. “She never mentioned names and she looked…different.”

  Pete mulled that, then nodded acceptance. “After Marc was born, Ari never got pregnant, but the problem was mine, not hers. We decided not to push things because she had enough on her plate. They’d straightened out her meds, she was doing a great job with Marc…” He shrugged. “Why rock the boat?”

  “But that changed?”

  “She got restless. Two or three times a year she’d stop taking her meds and then I’d have a rough time straightening things out. As time went on, it was more often. She stopped going to church, stopped practicing her faith and then dumped the meds altogether.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Me, too. I knew I should have gone to church with her, but I was too busy making the farm a success. For what?” He eyed Kayla. “The farm was fine. We had everything we needed. I always wondered if I’d just gone to church with her, been her husband seven days a week instead of six, if we’d have ended up the same way.”

  “You think it could have made that much difference?”

  “I’ll never know, will I? But yeah, I think so.”

  Kayla glanced at the family picture. Arianna was beautiful, her smile wild and free. Kayla nodded. “Does Jess’s father know about her?”

  “I made sure of it. I also made sure he understood he had no rights whatsoever.” Pete’s face darkened. “I let him know what his life would be like if I went public since he was Ari’s therapist. The only reason I didn’t was to protect my wife and daughter. Oh, yeah, he knew.” Pete’s breath came out in a rush. “And he knew better than to come around looking for what was mine. He left a short while after and we haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Mr. D.” Kayla placed a hand over his. His agitation pushed his heart rate up. His skin had warmed, tingeing color beneath the waxy surface. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know that Arianna was surrounded with loving care when she died. She’d accepted Christ and was looking forward to heaven. Her deep faith inspired mine.” Kayla pressed his hand. “Her only regret was she didn’t have the forgiveness of her family.”

  “She had mine.”

  Kayla leaned forward. “You tell her that when you see her, all right?”

  Pete looked suddenly drained. Defeated. “I will. Won’t be long now.”

  “No. But you’ve got someone waiting for you.”

  His expression softened. “You think it’s me she’s waiting for?”

  Memories of Anna’s sorrow plucked at Kayla. “You were her only love. She told me so.”

  His eyes misted. “Well, then.” He sniffed. Kayla handed him a clump of tissues. He nodded, abrupt, his eyes less troubled. “Well, then.”

  The sound of the back door ended their discussion. Jess burst in. She pulled off her coat as she walked, dropping it on a small bench. “Daddy. How are you? You look better.”

  Pete smiled. “I was debating with Miss Kayla. She got me riled up. Gave me some color.”

  Kayla flashed him a look of understanding. “It was a fine line.” She turned a soft smile to Jess. “I didn’t want to push him into overdrive, but a little gumption is never a bad thing.”

  “I’ve got gumption.” Jess grinned at her father. “Dad says so all the time. ‘A chip off the old block,’ right, Dad?”

  Pete didn’t miss a beat. “The good looks came from your mother, but the gumption was all me, kid.”

  Kayla stood.

  “Are you going?” Jess looked up, surprised and disappointed.

  “No.” Kayla reached for her bag. “Your dad and I had such a nice talk that I didn’t get his vitals.”

  “Not much different, there,” he retorted. “Bad and growing worse.”

  “Dad.”

  “Jess.” He smiled up at his daughter. Kayla saw a look of love pass between them. Biology disregarded, Jess and Pete DeHollander were father and daughter. “We can’t skate around the truth, Jess. No matter how much we might want to.”

  “I know.” The girl didn’t cry. She gave her father a dazzling smile instead. “I keep talking to God about how to handle this, what to do.”

  “The best place to turn.” Pete nodded agreement.

  “Then I wonder if God is doing this so Marc has to take me to church,” Jess continued with wisdom beyond her years. “Maybe He’s calling you home so Marc has a chance to find his way.”

  Pete reached a hand to Jess’s cheek. “Sometimes I wonder which one of you will be in charge.”

  Jess laughed. “Me, too.” She gave her dad a gentle hug. “We’ll take turns.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” Pete leaned back while Kayla checked his blood pressure. “I love you, Jess.”

  Jess hugged him again. “I love you, too, Dad.”

  Their embrace grew lengthy. Kayla refused to cry even though her throat tightened and her cheeks ached. Without a word she headed to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. No doubt Marc would want some when he came in from the barn and she could do with some herself.

  The image of father and daughter imprinted itself on her brain. Jess DeHollander was Pete’s child, regardless of biology. It was there in every word, every action the man took.

  But Pete would be gone soon. He was moving to his heavenly reward, and that left the secret in Kayla’s hands. Would it do any good for Marc and Jess to know the truth before Pete died?

  None she could see. But how could she tell them afterward, in their time of grief? Was not telling them an option? What if Jess’s father showed up, making demands?

  Kayla pressed the heel of her hand to her brow.

  “You okay?”

  Marc’s voice startled her. She swung and faced him.

  Worry creased his brow. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen.” He headed to the cupboard, pulled out a container and shook two pills into his hand. “You might be coming down with something.”

  He poured a glass of water and handed everything to Kayla, then watched as she downed the pills. “Sit.”

  She forced a smile. “I’m fine, really. A lot going on today and I did too much thinking. You know how da
ngerous that can be for a blonde.”

  His lips quirked. He gave a one-shoulder shrug of agreement. “For this one, anyway. Sit.”

  He pulled out a chair. The look on his face suggested she follow directions. She sat.

  His hands dropped to her shoulders. She straightened, then relaxed as his fingers kneaded. “Are you always this tight?”

  “Hmm? I—No. I don’t think so.”

  Think? How could she think when the gentle pressure of his hands soothed the aches of a long day, the stress of intimate knowledge of interfamily relationships?

  “Right here.” The heel of Marc’s hand pressed a point between her neck and her right shoulder. Kayla jerked. Marc steadied her with his other hand. “This is where you tense under pressure. You carry your anxiety along the top of your back.”

  The movement of his hands indicated the muscles in question. Kayla dropped her head forward, allowing him better access. “I tense them when I’m anxious or flustered.”

  “Or mad.”

  Kayla sighed, resigned. “Yes.”

  “No argument? You flatter me.” He eased his hands from her shoulders and moved to the coffeepot.

  Kayla flexed her neck and rolled her shoulders. Better. Much better. She eyed his back. “Where do you carry your stress, Marc?”

  He didn’t turn. Deliberate, he fixed his coffee, then stood quiet, staring at fields of snow through the window beyond.

  Kayla rose and moved to his side. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  He turned then. One arm slipped around her shoulders as if it belonged there, his hand grasping her upper arm in a half hug. He dropped his mouth to her hair and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m not upset. Just thinking. Planning. Hoping.”

  He gave her shoulder a second squeeze before releasing her. He nodded to the mug. “Good coffee. That northeast wind sucked through every layer I had.”

  “Really?” Kayla looked up, smiling. “You always seem impervious to the cold.”

  “Used to it,” he affirmed. “But I’d rather have the cold, dry winds of winter than the wet, cutting winds of spring.”

  “Does it bother the cattle?”

  “Naw. They’re hearty. I breed to maintain that vigor. When you live up here, it’s important to have stock that can withstand whatever winter has to offer.”