My Sunshine (36 page)

“What are you on?” the man demanded.

Laura had no idea what he meant. “I'm s-sorry?”

“What are you taking?”

Laura realized that he thought she was under the influence of something and started to laugh. He didn't see the humor. The angrier he got, the funnier it seemed. Pretty soon she couldn't stop laughing.

The attorney Isaiah had called arrived to save the day. He was skeletal and old, with a name that didn't stick in Laura's mind, but he seemed to know the ropes. He quickly explained the reason for Laura's halting speech, and the cop got over his huff. About an hour later Laura was informed that she could leave. She was helped up from the chair, the cuffs were removed from her wrists, and the lawyer escorted her from the office.

Isaiah was pacing back and forth just inside the front doors. When he saw Laura, he came rushing to meet her. She was too numb to do anything but lean against him when he put his arm around her.

The two men carried on a conversation over the top of her head as they exited the building. Laura heard the words, but their meaning didn't penetrate.
Bail, charges, felony, controlled substances.
Her head hurt. She felt sick to her stomach. All she wanted was to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and hear nothing but silence for a while.

At the curb, Isaiah stopped to shake the attorney's hand. “I appreciate your quick response.”

The attorney patted Laura's shoulder. “Mr. Coulter's sister is married to Ryan Kendrick. Any friend of the Kendrick clan is a friend of mine. Not to worry, Ms. Townsend. We'll have this ironed out in no time.”

Laura let Isaiah lead her to his Hummer. She was glad when he grasped her at the waist and swung her up onto the seat. Her legs felt like limp noodles. A few minutes later, as he drove through town, he reached over to squeeze her hand.

“We've rearranged the schedule, honey. Your shifts are covered indefinitely. Until this is resolved, you don't need to worry about anything.”

Laura thought of the kennel dogs. She would miss being with them every day. “Am I still in trouble?” She knew she should ask more detailed questions. Had he figured out how someone had gotten into her trunk without keys? Had he figured out how someone had obtained her security code? Did the police have any other suspects? Was she out on bail? And if so, what exactly did that mean? But her brain had reached overload. “Is it likely that they'll take me back and put me in jail?”

“I hope not.” He glanced over at her. “We've sent all our emergencies to another doctor, canceled all appointments, and closed the clinic for the day.” He glanced at his watch and then at his side mirror. “Tucker's meeting with me at my place in about an hour. We'll get to the bottom of this, Laura. You have my word on it.”

Laura trusted Isaiah Coulter more than she'd
ever trusted anyone. But she also realized that he couldn't pull answers out of a hat. In short, she was still in serious trouble, and unless something happened to cast suspicion on someone else, there was every possibility that she could go to jail.

Oddly, the prospect didn't completely terrify her. Maybe she couldn't talk very well under fire, but that didn't mean she was totally clueless about the law. A prosecutor had to prove guilt. When this case was reviewed, any lawyer worth his salt was bound to see that there were holes in it large enough to accommodate an eighteen-wheeler. She'd been with Isaiah. She'd had no car. She had no criminal record. The blood tests would show that she'd never used drugs. At the end of the day, Laura felt confident that she would prevail.

She just prayed she wouldn't be forced to prevail from a jail cell.

 

Once at the house, Laura allowed Isaiah to baby her. Physically she was fine, but her damaged brain needed a rest. He pushed her down on the edge of her bed and removed her shoes. Then he drew back the covers so she might lie down. A few minutes later he brought in the portable stereo, plugged in a Christmas CD, set it at a low, soothing volume, and served her a piping-hot cup of herbal tea.

“Thank you, Isaiah. I'm sorry for going brain-dead. I'll feel better in a bit.”

He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Hey, no apologies. Getting arrested is scary as hell.”

She gave him a questioning look. “You've been arrested?”

“Once in college. The charges didn't stick.”

As he fed the puppies, he gave her what she suspected was a slightly fictionalized account of the incident. “I was with Tucker in a university bar, just standing there, minding my own business.” He grinned and winked at her. “There was this trellis thing that divided the room. Anyway, a couple of guys Tucker and I knew were pretty lit, and God only knows why, but they decided to rip the trellis apart.”

Laura took a sip of tea. “You weren't involved?”

“Hell, no.” He went to the cage for another puppy. As he sat back down on the foot of the bed, he added, “Neither was Tucker. Problem: When you're close to six feet, five inches tall, you stand out in a crowd. We were near the guys who did the dirty. One of us—I can't remember now if it was Tucker or me—tried to make them stop. From across the room the bouncer and bartender thought we were the ones who did it.” He finished with the last puppy. “My one experience with getting stuffed and cuffed. Not something I'd like to repeat.”

Laura was starting to feel a little better and managed a smile. “Me, neither.”

“You won't,” he assured her. The doorbell rang just then. He straightened from the puppy cage. “There's Tucker now.” He leveled a finger at her. “You rest. Understand? At least an hour. Let your brain defrag.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Laura had just drifted off to sleep when she heard voices lifted in anger. Her first thought was that the police had come for her. Isaiah was cursing. Over the soft Christmas music playing on the stereo, he sounded very upset. As much as Laura appreciated his loyal defense of her, she didn't want him to get in trouble with the law.

She swung out of bed and padded barefoot from her room. To her surprise, no one was in the living area. Following the sound of voices, she moved hesitantly toward the kitchen. As she came around the rock fireplace that divided the living and formal dining rooms, she realized that it wasn't Isaiah talking so loudly, after all, but Tucker. She froze in her tracks. An instant later she had firsthand knowledge that the old adage was true: Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves.

“Are you out of your mind, Isaiah?” Tucker demanded in a hushed yell, clearly pitched low so he wouldn't be overheard. “Surely you don't intend to actually marry the woman. Be smart. Have a fling, wait for the newness to wear off, and then get the hell out.”

“Tucker, for once would you just butt out? It's my life. What I choose to do with it is my business.”

“Not when you're about to flush your future down the john. Laura is sweet. I'll be the first person to admit that. And there's no denying that she's pretty. But, for God's sake, Isaiah, use your head. She's also a brain-damaged misfit who can't pronounce three-syllable words or dole out dog food without messing up.”

“She didn't mess up with the dog food.”

“Would you listen to yourself?” Tucker asked more calmly. “I don't have it in for Laura. You know that. I like her very much. But she isn't the woman for you.”

“Excuse me, but isn't that for me to decide?”

Laura pressed a hand to her waist, feeling as if she might be sick.

“Everything may seem hunky-dory now,” Tucker retorted, “but if you marry the lady, the day will come when you'll regret that you ever met her. She can't stimulate you intellectually, Isaiah. And she sure as hell isn't capable of being your helpmate at the clinic.”

Isaiah tried to interject something, but Tucker cut him off. “Would you just hear me out?”

Isaiah muttered a sentence, but Laura didn't catch what he said. She had no problem hearing Tucker.

“If you marry her and are dumb enough to have kids,” he rushed on, “who'll help them with their reading and math? You, that's who. Laura can't even write a damned grocery list. You'll be bringing in all the bacon and cooking it as well.”

“Laura is a wonderful cook.”

“Damn it, you know that isn't what I mean. Married to someone like her, you'll constantly have to compensate for all her failings.”

“We'll iron out the wrinkles,” Isaiah said.

“Wrinkles? Isaiah, you've got a brilliant future as a vet. With the right woman at your side, the sky's the limit. Laura isn't that woman. When the attraction wears off, what will you talk to her about? You sure as hell won't be able to have an intellectual
conversation with her. When there are public functions you have to attend, what're you going to do, dress her up like a pretty little doll and tell her to smile and keep her mouth shut all evening?”

Laura winced.

“It's not like I'm climbing a corporate ladder,” Isaiah countered.

“Yeah, you say that, and for right now it's true enough. But what if you decide later to enter the research field or want to teach? You want to get a taste of vicious politics, brother? Just visit any university or research center in the country. A beautiful, intelligent, accomplished, and entertaining wife will be a huge asset, and trust me, Laura will never cut the mustard.”

Laura felt as if her heart were breaking.
Oh, God.
As a child she'd sung, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Not true. Words could inflict wounds that ran deeper than the flesh. The worst part was, she could refute nothing of what Tucker said. She
was
a brain-damaged misfit, a woman who'd been doomed to scrub toilets and walk dogs for a living until she met Isaiah.

And the rest was true as well. Isaiah did have a brilliant future ahead of him, and he needed a smart, charming wife who could complement him and help him accomplish all his goals. Laura remembered the night that he'd talked with her about the Chesapeake with autoimmune disease, and how respectfully he'd spoken of his colleague who had devoted his career to research. Isaiah hadn't told her that he wanted to follow in that colleague's footsteps, but in retrospect, when she
remembered the look in his eyes, she knew the longing had been there. She'd just failed to see it, maybe because she hadn't wanted to.

Fearful that Isaiah or Tucker would turn and see her in the dining area, Laura retreated to her room and quietly closed the door. Dry eyed, she sank onto the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the floor. Before her accident she could have been the wife Isaiah needed. But, in all honesty, she knew she wasn't capable of that now. She loved him, yes, and she wished with all her heart that she had more to offer him. But she didn't.

Isaiah would marry her. Laura knew that. He was a kind, caring, and wonderful man, and in his heart he believed they could make a marriage work. But at what cost to him? She didn't want to be an anchor that held him back from pursuing his dreams.

Sometimes a woman had to love a man enough to walk away.

 

Isaiah refused to let Tucker piss him off. He knew his brother meant well. The way Tucker saw it, Isaiah would be making a disastrous mistake if he married Laura. Out of love, he was trying to make Isaiah see that.

“Okay,” Isaiah said evenly, “I've let you have your say. Now will you let me have mine?”

Tucker waved his hand and leaned his hips against the counter. “Sure.”

Isaiah positioned himself across from his brother, his hips resting against the work island. “I love Laura Townsend.”

“That's your dick talking.”

“Would you just shut up and listen? All my life everybody's harped at me to stop and smell the goddamned roses. ‘Don't take life so seriously, Isaiah.' ‘Get your nose out of that book, Isaiah.' ‘There's more to life than work, Isaiah.' ‘You need to find yourself a wife, Isaiah.' Yadda, yadda, yadda. Only me and my dick never ran into a woman we both wanted to stay with.”

Tucker tugged on his ear. “Okay, I hear you.”

“No, you don't hear me. You've never been in love. I may as well be talking Greek.” He swung his hand toward the living room. “That girl in there has changed my whole life. The sex is great. I don't deny it. But I only discovered that just recently, and as wonderful as the physical aspects are, that isn't what I love about her. It was never about that.”

“What is it about then?”

“It's about watching the snowflakes come down, damn it! It's about sitting by the fire at night to read a novel to her instead of poring over a medical tome. It's about having someone who listens to me. You say Laura and I can't have an intellectual conversation?
Wrong.
Her intelligence hasn't been affected by the aphasia. She's probably smarter than you are. And it goes without saying that her education is equal to yours. I don't give a shit if she talks to me using two-syllable words. It's what she's got to say that counts.”

Tucker nodded, his brow furrowing in a thoughtful frown.