Nathan's Child (10 page)

Ordinarily, too, it was a nice break because she was getting so little done that being allowed out of the studio for twenty minutes or so was a treat.

Today she grumbled as she assembled Elaine's lunch and bundled it into the basket of her bicycle. It wasn't far to the shop, only a few blocks. But it was quicker to ride Lacey's bike there and back, and today—for once—Carin was actually in a hurry.

She pedaled off toward the shop, focusing on the new painting that was taking form in her mind. She didn't see Miss Saffron's cat dash across the road.

She didn't see Zeno race after him—not until he was right in front of her. She slammed on the brakes, jerked the handlebars and swerved just in time to see Nathan, his hand on the small of the back of an absolutely gorgeous blonde woman, going into the grocery store.

Carin, gaping, wobbled wildly, swerved madly and hit a pothole.

The bike flipped. So did the lunch.

So did Carin.

And then she went splat.

“
C
ARIN
!
Good God, Carin! Are you all right?”

Asinine question. Of course she wasn't all right!

She'd flipped right over the handlebars of the bike! If he shut his eyes Nathan could see it still, in slow motion, Carin sailing through the air, arms flailing in an attempt to get her balance—and lay now in a crumpled heap in the road.

“Go inside. Tell 'em to call the doc.” He didn't look to see if Gaby followed his directions or not. He had already hurdled the stair railing and was sprinting down the street toward Carin.

She was conscious. She was moving. She was scraped. He saw blood and he could hear her swearing a blue streak, saying words that would have shocked him if he hadn't been tempted to say them himself.

“Don't move,” he instructed as he crouched beside her. “Damn it, Carin! Stay still!” he commanded when she struggled to get up.

“Bloody, bloody—! Oh, hell! Owwww!” She was scrabbling on the ground, trying to pick herself up, but one arm wasn't cooperating. And Nathan was afraid to touch her for fear of making things worse.

She had an abrasion on her cheek. Her legs were scraped, her hands bloody. And her arm—oh, God—her arm!

“Stop moving, damn it!” Nathan snapped at her. “You've broken your arm.”

Carin looked at him, stricken, white as a ghost. Only her lips and lashes had any color. “I haven't! Oh damn! Oh hell! Oh—” She swore desperately. “I can't have broken my arm!”

“You have. Stop moving.”

“You're not a doctor! What do you know?”

“I know you aren't supposed to have an elbow halfway down your forearm.”

She jerked her gaze down and really looked at it for the first time. Then she looked back at Nathan, went even whiter, and her eyes started to roll back in her head.

“Damn it, Carin! Don't faint!” He did his best to get her head down, trying to avoid her arm, easing his around her, feeling her whole body tremble. He had no doubt that she was in shock. “It'll be okay. Gaby's got 'em calling for the doc.”

“Gaby,” she mumbled and shook her head as if she was dazed.

“My agent,” he explained. “That's her name.” It seemed stupid to be talking about Gaby now. He wanted to see how badly Carin was hurt.

But people began appearing to stand around—Lyle from the grocery store, Emmalyn from the bakery, Otis who ran the hardware store. And Miss Saffron, holding her damned cat. Zeno was there, too, looking worried.

“Is she all right?”

“Carin, you ok?”

“Oh, Carin!” It was Elaine. “You're hurt! You're not dyin'?”

Carin saw her and dredged up the faintest of smiles. “Not dying,” she affirmed. “Your, um, lunch.” She managed a weak wave of her hand on the unbroken arm toward the contents of the bag that had been in the basket of the bike.

“Forget the lunch.” She stopped at the sight of Carin's arm. “Your arm! It's your
right
arm!”

The significance of this seemed to hit Carin at the same time it hit Elaine—and Nathan. Her right arm.

“I can't paint!” There was panic in Carin's tone now. “Oh, my God, I—”

“Here's the doc,” Nathan broke in as Maurice pulled up in his Jeep and Doc Rasmussen climbed out.

He ran quick, practiced hands over her and turned to Maurice. “Call Hugh. Tell him we need to get her to Nassau.” As he spoke he put a temporary splint on Carin's arm.

“Hugh's already in Nassau,” she said weakly.

“We'll get him back here,” Nathan promised. “Call McGillivray and tell him to get his ass home.”

Maurice shook his head. “Be lots faster if Molly takes her.”

“Who's Molly?”

“Hugh's sister,” Carin answered. “Yes, Molly can do it.”

Nathan noticed she wasn't arguing about having to go to the hospital. But he wasn't sure about Hugh McGillivray's sister. He'd met Molly McGillivray one day when he'd needed some work done on his boat's motor.

Lacey had said she knew who could fix it—and had taken him to see a girl she'd introduced as Hugh's sister.

Nathan had hardly believed it. Hugh had dark hair and blue eyes and was, even Nathan had to admit, pretty damned good-looking. The girl he'd met had carrot-red hair, freckles enough for a dozen Irishmen, and looked like a seventeen-year-old boy! She'd been wearing cutoff jeans, a baseball cap, and a T-shirt advertising a bar. With a smear of grease on her cheek and a wrench in her hand, she looked like a poster child for Tomboys R Us.

She'd fixed his engine in no time flat.

Now he said, “How many sisters does McGillivray have?”

“Just Molly.”

Nathan had been afraid of that.

But Doc Rasmussen nodded. “Let's get her in the car. Call Molly and tell her we're coming. Maurice, you can drive us.”

Nathan would have objected, but Carin, of course, was already trying to rise on her own, with Doc doing his best to support her.

Nathan stepped in. “Here,” he said and scooped Carin into his arms before she could protest. “Open the door, Maurice.”

Carin was still trembling as, slowly and carefully, Nathan carried her to the car and eased her into the front seat. He felt a shudder run through her before he got her settled. “You okay?”

She nodded shakily. Her head fell back against the head-rest and she closed her eyes for a brief second before opening them again and meeting his gaze. “Yes. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Nathan said gruffly. “Doc can ride with you. I'll take my own car.”

“You don't need to come,” Carin said quickly. “You need to be here. For Lacey. She's out fishing with Lorenzo and Thomas. Of course you know that. You set it up.” She sounded aggrieved.

Nathan wasn't going to get into that with her now. “I'll see you at McGillivray's.”

“Lacey—”

“Lacey will be fine.”

 

She woke up in the hospital.

At least she supposed she was at the hospital.

She felt dazed and fuzzy-minded and her mouth tasted terrible. She looked around. She was in a private room, which didn't seem right. There was no way she could afford a private room. Even dazed and confused, she knew that.

She moved her gaze slowly—it was almost the only thing she could move—trying to take it all in.

Her arm was in plaster halfway to her elbow. There were ominous metal screws sticking out of the plaster. One leg was raised on pillows. Her hands were bandaged. Her lips felt cracked. There was something stuck to her cheek.
Every muscle in her body hurt. Even when she blinked, she could feel it.

“Look who's awake.”

Her head jerked around and she almost screamed at the pull of the muscles. And very nearly screamed again at the sight of Nathan, unshaven and bleary-eyed, standing over her.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” Even her throat hurt. Probably because they'd stuck some tube down it while they had her knocked out.

“Watching you.”

“Well, don't.” If there was ever a time she didn't need him around it was now. She knew she sounded petulant and probably even childish. “Just let me alone.”

“Thought you might like to know how Lacey is.”

Her gaze snapped back to him. She started to sit up. “What's wrong with Lacey?”

“Nothing's wrong with Lacey,” he said quickly, his tone soothing. “You were worried when we left, so I thought I'd stay around and let you know she was fine. I figured you'd want to know.”

“Yes. Of course. Thank you. Where is she?”

“At Maurice and Estelle's. Hugh will bring her by later.” His jaw tightened briefly. “We ran into him at the airfield and he insisted on coming to the hospital with us. When you were out of surgery, he flew home. He'll tell Lacey.”

“And he's bringing her?”

“Later today. And he'll take her home again.”

Knowing that Lacey was all right eased Carin's mind. That didn't help, though, when it came to her arm. She looked at the cast with the pins, and then at her leg. “What did they do to me?”

“Rasmussen called in an orthopedic surgeon, who set your arm. He put a couple of pins in it, said it would heal faster that way. Your ankle is sprained. X-rays came back
negative for breaks on that,” Nathan reported. “You've got some abrasions. Lots of grit in your skin. They picked that out while you were unconscious.” He nodded at her face and at her gauze-wrapped hands. “It should heal up pretty fast. Doc said a couple of months and you'd be good as new.”

“A couple of months?” Carin tried not to wail the words. “My show…”

“Don't worry about your show.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered.

“Ah, good. You're awake, dearie.” A nurse appeared in the doorway, a bright white smile on her ebony face. “How you be feeling, then?”

“Just ducky,” Carin muttered. But it was actually nice to see someone other than Nathan.

“Pain medication wearing off?” The nurse shook a pill out into a tiny paper cup and gave it to Carin. “You just take this. You feel better soon.” She held a glass of water so Carin could sip it and get the pill down. “You get lots of sleep now an' you heal right up,” she went on. “Don't worry 'bout a thing. Your husband, he take care of things for you.”

The water went right up Carin's nose. She coughed and snorted and gasped and every muscle in her body screamed.

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear. You drink too fast. Go slow. You got to go slow, dearie,” the nurse said, completely misunderstanding the reason for Carin's coughing fit. The nurse put the glass out of reach and waited until Carin had stopped choking. “There now. You go slow.”

“He. Is. Not. My. Husband.” Carin wheezed out the words. She shot Nathan a fulminating glare.

The nurse looked surprised, then as her gaze turned to Nathan, she looked accusing.

In return Nathan looked both implacable and inscrutable. Whatever he had told the doctors and the hospital staff, it had apparently involved him being a close relative.

Now he shrugged, as if to say, Want to make something of it?

Clearly the nurse didn't. “You want more water now you stopped choking?” she asked Carin.

“No. Thank you,” Carin added after a moment, banishing the rude child. She gave the nurse a wan smile and was rewarded with a pat on the hand.

“Don't you fret now,” she said. “Whatever he is, he cares about you.” Then, giving Nathan a smile, too, she headed for the door. “You need anything, you push that button,” she pointed to the one by Carin's hand. And then she was gone.

And the two of them were alone again.

“Go away,” Carin said after a moment.

Nathan didn't bother to answer. He didn't bother to move, either. He just sprawled in the chair by her bedside, looking tired. His dark hair was ruffled and uncombed, as if he'd run his hands through it. Dark stubble shadowed his cheeks and jaw. He was wearing a rumpled long-sleeved blue shirt and a pair of jeans faded at the knees to almost white. They were what he'd been wearing when she'd seen him right before she'd gone sailing over the handlebars of her bike.

“What time is it?” she asked wearily, when it was clear he wasn't going anywhere. There was some light coming through the window, but not much. It looked to be getting dark.

Nathan glanced at his watch. “Just past seven.”

“I've been out six hours?”

“Eighteen. It's seven in the morning.”

She stared at him. “Seven in the morning. Tomorrow? I mean, I've been here since yesterday?”

Nathan nodded. “Yep.”

“And you've been here…”

“Since we brought you in.”

No wonder he looked as if he'd been run over by a truck.
And Carin didn't even want to think what she must look like. “You should go home,” she said.

“I will.” But he still made no effort to move.

“Don't you have a hotel room?”

“Didn't need one. They let me stay here.”

All night? He'd sat beside her bed all night? Carin was mortified and felt oddly teary at the same time.

“Well, you didn't need to,” she told him.

“I promised Lacey I would.”

And what could she say to that? Her fingers curled around a handful of sheet, and she shook her head, overwhelmed, exhausted, hurting even though the pain killer was beginning to take effect. It made her feel woozy. Her eyes shut.

“Go to sleep,” she heard Nathan say. His voice seemed to come from far away. “Get that rest the nurse was talking about.”

She strove to open her eyes. “You—” But of their own accord her lids closed again. “You should go…”

The last thing she heard was Nathan say, “Don't worry about me.”

 

Nathan was doing enough worrying for both of them.

Whatever “opportunity” he'd been waiting for, he'd never imagined this one. The sight of Carin flying over those handlebars was one he would take to his grave. And the vision of her chalk-white face and the way her eyes went all glassy from shock still had the effect of a punch in the gut every time he called them to mind.

He hadn't left her side except for the time she'd spent in the operating room. Then he'd paced the hallway cursing and muttering, calling himself seven dozen kinds of a fool for being so damn “patient” so damn long.

He should have just hauled her off to a justice of the peace as soon as he'd arrived. It was what his father and Dominic would have done.

It was fine to let people go their own way if they didn't matter to you. But Carin mattered!

He loved her.

The moment he realized it was frozen forever in time as if he'd framed a shot, clicked the shutter and captured the mind-boggling amazement that came with it.

He had told himself he'd come for Lacey. He had a daughter; he wanted to know her. And Carin? He hadn't let himself think about Carin.