Forever Grace (23 page)

Gwyn chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it. He has that effect on everyone.” She handed Grace a casserole dish wrapped in a dishtowel. “Thai chicken and rice. It has a bit of heat to it, but not much. My kids aren’t fans of spicy food.”

“Mine, either.”

“If you want to set that on the table and come back, I have a second one to go out, along with some veggies and a salad.”

Grace eyed the sizable dish already in her hands. “You brought an awful lot of food for a lunch.”

“I made extra so Sean would have leftovers for a few days. I don’t know why I bothered, really. He’s a far better cook than I am, and I should have known he’d be coping just fine. He’s just been so good to me and the kids since Gareth and I got together…I wanted to do something nice in return.”

“Sean told me you and your husband wanted to take him in while he recovered. That seems nice.”

“I’m not sure
nice
is how Sean would define it.” Gwyn sent an amused look to where Sean sat on the couch, paging through a back-country hiking magazine with Annabelle tucked into the crook of his arm. “As good as he is with kids, he makes no bones about not wanting to be around them too much. Or about not wanting his own.”

Grace almost choked at the thinly veiled warning. Gwyn grimaced.

“Too direct?” she asked.

“Um…” Grace had no idea how to answer. Gwyn sighed.

“Sorry. I have a habit of being rather blunt,” she said. “I’ll butt out now. Besides, it’s not like you have to worry, because the kids aren’t yours to begin with, right? How long is your sister in hospital for?”

Sudden tears blurred Grace’s vision, and the casserole in her hands tipped precariously. Gwyn leapt forward to take it.

“Oh, Lord,” she muttered. “I’ve put my foot in it again, haven’t I?”

Grace shook her head, swallowing hard, aware of Sean’s concern from across the cottage and Gareth Connor’s frown as he tried to steer the kids clear of the conversation. She pulled herself together, mustered a smile. “No. No, it’s okay. Really. I’m fine. It’s just a delayed reaction to losing Annabelle, I think.”

Gwyn regarded her for a moment, and then, with an acceptance that brought a fresh welling of tears, turned Grace toward the bathroom and gave her a little push. “We’ll watch the kids and finish up here. You go wash your face and take a few deep breaths. It helps. I promise.”

“Is Aunt Grace okay?” Lilliane perched on the couch beside Annabelle and looked up at Sean, worry shadowing her brown eyes.

His heart gave a little squeeze at the trust there as well. “She’s fine,” he reassured the girl, ruffling her hair. “She just had a bad scare with losing your sister, and she needs a few minutes alone.”

“It wasn’t her fault that Annabelle got lost. She had a headache, and she needed to lie down. We were supposed to be watching Annabelle, but we forgot. And we didn’t know she could open doors.”

Sean’s mouth tilted up at one corner. “It was no one’s fault,” he said. “It was just something that happened.”

“But what if it happens again?” Lilly frowned.

“Tell you what. Tomorrow, while Annabelle is napping, I’ll bring over a new latch for the door, how’s that? We’ll put it up really high, where she can’t reach. Will that help?”

“It will help loads,” Nicholas said, joining them. He patted Lilly’s shoulder comfortingly. “When I was little, Mommy had to put a latch on our door because I kept getting out of the house, too.”

A snort reached them from the kitchen.

“I had to put a latch on
everything
to keep you contained, you little monkey,” Gwyn said, making her son giggle. “Now, everyone come and get your plates, before things go stone cold and I need to reheat everything again.”

Six kids traipsed obediently into the kitchen, and Sean twisted around to lift Annabelle down from the couch.

“Here,” said Gareth. “Let me.”

He hoisted the willing toddler into his arms, then stooped and handed Sean his crutches. But he didn’t move away. Sean braced himself for the harassment he felt certain was coming.

Instead, Gareth said simply, “Spill.”

Sean didn’t pretend not to understand. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“But there is a story. And not a pleasant one, I’m guessing.”

You have no idea.

“Yes,” he responded to Gareth’s statements. “And no.”

“Will she be all right?”

She will if I have anything to do with it.

The sheer ferocity of the thought caught Sean off guard. So did the twist of his stomach at the idea of any other possibility. His jaw went tight. “She’ll be fine.”

Gareth regarded him for a long moment, still holding Annabelle. Then he tipped his head toward the bathroom door behind which Grace had disappeared. “Why don’t you check on her? I’ll get Annabelle settled.”

As Gareth carried the smallest of their company over to the table, the other kids began making their way back to the living room. Sean pulled himself up onto his crutches and moved out of their way, and the six of them settled around the coffee table he’d once thought too big but that only just accommodated them. Funny how that had worked out.

He crossed to the bathroom door and tapped gently.

“Grace? It’s Sean. Can I come in?”

Grace wiped her face dry and stared into the mirror at her reflection. Hell, her under-eye circles had circles at this point. She’d never looked—or felt—so tired in all her life. Or so helpless. Or so completely overwhelmed.

More tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

Crap. She’d already spent a good ten minutes hiding out in Sean’s bathroom. At this rate, she’d never make it out for lunch. She took another of the deep breaths Gwyn had recommended, although so far they hadn’t done much more than make her lightheaded. The thoughts that kept her pinned in the little room kept spinning through her head: How on earth was she going to manage? How could she be a good parent to those four kids? With all they’d been through, all their trauma, how could she hope to be enough for them?

She put a hand to her chest, pressing against the tightness of panic. Ever since she’d told the story to Sean yesterday, she’d been slowly unraveling at the seams, just as she’d feared. As if talking about it had suddenly made it bigger. More real.

Infinitely more terrifying.

She was so not ready for this. So not capable of handling what was already happening, never mind what was still to come.

A tap sounded at the door.

“Grace? It’s Sean. Can I come in?”

She tried to suck back the tears, she really did. Tried to breathe. Tried to hold herself together for the kids’ sakes. She tried—and then she pulled open the door, buried her face against Sean’s shoulder, and burst into yet more tears.

“BETTER NOW?” SEAN HANDED ANOTHER
wad of tissues to Grace. She sniffled from her perch on the edge of the bathtub and nodded.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “And I’m so sorry for all of this.”

“Don’t be.” Seated on the closed toilet, he shifted his casted leg to another position, trying to ease the pins and needles in his foot. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure. I’m surprised you’ve held up as long as you have.”

He kept his voice pitched low, so it wouldn’t carry beyond the door to the others. If Grace had a lot to deal with, so did those kids.

“I’ve had no choice.” She blew her nose. Her resolute gaze met his. “I
have
no choice.”

“You can let me help.”

“You have helped.”

“I meant help more.” He reached forward to take one of her hands in his. “Grace, I’ve been thinking. Last night—”

“No.” She pulled away and stood up, but she couldn’t go anywhere, because his outstretched cast blocked the door.

He didn’t move. “We can’t just ignore—”

“Yes,” she said. “We can.”

Frustration reared in him. “Damn it, will you at least let me finish a sentence?”

“I can’t.” Her voice was ragged. “Look, I won’t deny there’s chemistry between us, Sean, but I told you last night, I don’t have room for this right now. Not with the way things are. Not with the kids.”

He caught her fingers and twined them in his, feeling her warmth. Her fragility. Remembering the way her fear for Annabelle had cut through to his own core. He scowled. “What if it’s more than just chemistry? What if—”

“What if you’re just caught up in my circumstances? What if half of what you feel is some misguided sense of responsibility? Sympathy for them”—she nodded at the bathroom door—“and for me? What if what
I
feel is utter terror at the thought of raising four kids on my own?”

“We don’t know that’s what it is.”

“And I can’t take the chance that it isn’t. I don’t know how I’m going to handle what’s already going on in my life, Sean, but I do know that anything more will break me—and them. So please—just don’t.”

He thought about how much he’d missed the kids that morning. How quiet his cottage had seemed without them. He thought of the men his own mother had paraded through his life when he was young. His absolute determination never to be one of those men in another child’s life.

And then he hesitated.

Closing his eyes, he turned her hand over in his and pressed his lips—gently, briefly—to her palm. Felt her shudder. Heard her indrawn breath.
“Don’t,”
her whisper echoed in his heart. He swallowed against the lump it left behind. Releasing her hand, he pulled himself up to stand beside her.

He hated to let it go at this, but now wasn’t the time. Not with the others waiting and Grace so defensive. And not when he needed to work through her words, to see whether he could refute her logic—or whether he should.

“We should get back to the others,” he said.

Her face pale and drawn, she nodded. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Sean turned the doorknob, then hesitated, every fiber of his being screaming for him to reach out to her. To let her know he was there for her.

“Can I at least still help?” he asked. “As a friend?”

A tear sparkled on the edge of her lashes. It fell when she nodded and gave him a wobbly smile.

“I’d like that.”

Lunch was delightful. Despite Grace’s misgivings about staying on after her meltdown, Gwyn and Gareth managed to make her feel relaxed and welcome—and more normal than she’d felt in what seemed a lifetime. Warmth radiated between the two of them, drawing her in and filling the entire cottage. Annabelle was thrilled with her new audience—particularly Gareth; Lilliane and Katie became fast friends within the space of an hour; and Nicholas and Maggie collectively took quiet little Sage under their wing, accepting her shyness without question or comment.

And Sean…Sean laughed and joked and shared in telling boyhood stories of summers with Gareth’s family in Wales. He handed her the salt and pepper, made sure all the dishes were passed to her, and stooped to retrieve her napkin when she dropped it. Later, when Gareth offered her cream and sugar for the coffee Gwyn had poured, he shook his head on her behalf.

“She takes it black,” he said, and then he turned to lift Annabelle into his lap so he could clean her sticky fingers and face.

Grace’s cheeks warmed as she caught the look that passed between Gareth and his wife.
It’s not what you think
, she wanted to tell them.
We’re friends. That’s all.

But Nicholas arrived with a question, Lilliane wanted seconds on the fruit salad dessert, and the opportunity to speak up passed. It was just as well, she decided. She wasn’t likely to even see Sean’s family again, so there didn’t seem to be much point in expending energy on explanations. They’d figure it out for themselves sooner or later, or else Sean would set them straight.

Her gaze lingered on her neighbor as he swiped a damp facecloth across Annabelle’s nose, making her giggle. Friends. The word made a part of her heart ache with heaviness. Another time and place, other circumstances, and—

She cringed internally at the traitorous thought. She looked over at Josh and Sage and Lilliane, guilt twisting through her heart. How could she even go there? They deserved so much more from her. So much more from life…

A hand waved in front of her nose, making her jump.

“Earth to Grace,” said Sean. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry, I must have zoned out for a minute. Lack of sleep, I guess.”

Green eyes held hers for a moment, looking inside her, seeing more than she wanted them to see. More than friendship. She sat up straighter. Forced a smile. Made herself glance away to the others.

“What did I miss?”

Gwyn and Gareth exchanged another of their looks. Grace gritted her teeth. Did they
have
to keep doing that? She was becoming downright paranoid about what they might be thinking.

“Sean and I were thinking of taking the kids down to the lake to skip rocks off the dock. Josh said he’d run home for Annabelle’s coat, if that’s all right with you.”

She’d missed all that? Grace held back a sigh. No wonder people were exchanging glances over her. She turned to Sean. “Is your leg up to it? Maybe I should go instead.”

Sean set Annabelle on the floor. “I’m fine. I haven’t been anywhere today, so the exercise will do me good.”

A flurry of activity followed as coats and boots and various other articles of clothing were produced and donned. Gareth volunteered to watch Josh traverse the woods to get Annabelle’s outdoor wear, Sean helped Sage with the zipper on her coat, and Grace helped Gwyn begin clearing the table. By the time everyone had trooped out the door, the silence they left in their wake seemed positively deafening.

“Well,” said Gwyn. “
That
was an adventure.”

“And probably not what you’d anticipated when you came out for a visit,” Grace replied with a twinge of guilt.

“No, what I’d anticipated was having three kids whining about being bored after the first hour.” Gwyn’s voice was wry. “So before you go thinking you intruded, please let me say thank you for saving my sanity. And possibly my children’s lives. Now, would you rather wash or dry?”

Grace opted for the novelty of drying—something that rarely happened in her life now that she’d taken to letting nature do that chore for her. She and Gwyn worked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then, without warning, Gwyn tossed the dishcloth into the sink, spraying soap bubbles everywhere. She turned to face Grace, wet hands on hips and lips compressed.