Random Acts (2 page)

A realization crept into her consciousness. Jenny’s frail condition pained Patrick. Why hadn’t she noticed right away? Mayport was a small town. Everyone knew each other, and Patrick lived next door to Jenny and her grandmother. He knew Jenny. Probably better than she did.

“I’m sorry.” She pressed her palm to her forehead and blinked back the tears. She turned around, unwilling to break down in front of him. She reached over and ran a strand of Jenny’s soft auburn hair—the same shade as her own—through her fingers. “I’m trying to make sense of it.”

He cupped her shoulder, sending a warm tingle across her flesh. She resisted the urge to lean into him for comfort.

“Sometimes these things don’t make sense. We have to trust in God’s plan,” he said in a soothing voice.

Danielle lowered her head and gritted her teeth. Trust didn’t come easily to her.

“Would you like to say a prayer?”

Danielle’s mouth worked, but the words wouldn’t come. A flush of goose bumps blanketed her skin. She tilted her head. The heat from Patrick’s hand radiated up to her cheek. She had long ago given up on prayer and on God. Yet, something subtle chipped away at the armor surrounding her heart. Who was she to deny her sister the benefit of a prayer? Even if in her heart of hearts she didn’t believe it would work.

“Okay,” she whispered through a too-tight throat. Her acquiescence stemmed more from superstition—or maybe feelings of helplessness—than fear of God.

“Heavenly Father—” Patrick bowed his head, one hand still on Danielle’s shoulder, the other rested on Jenny’s forearm, “—please place Your hands upon Jenny. Guide the doctors and nurses responsible for her care. Heal her body. Watch over her and protect her. We lay this in Your hands. Amen.”

Patrick kept his head bowed in prayerful silence. She tried to do the same, but the beeping monitor invaded her peaceful thoughts. His comforting touch now seemed too intimate. Too close. Too much weight on her thin shoulder.

Danielle ducked away from him and snatched her overnight bag from the floor near the foot of the bed. Working her lower lip, she hoisted the strap of the bag over her shoulder. “I need to see Gram. Make sure she’s okay. The nurse said the physician wouldn’t be available to meet until later this afternoon. I may as well go now.” The words spilled out as Danielle tried to make sense of the earth shifting under her feet.

In order to restore order, she needed to do something concrete. Create a list. Check things off. Because standing over her sister’s broken body saying prayers to a God who had long ago forsaken her, brought her back to a dark place she didn’t care to revisit.

“I’ll take you home to Gram,” Patrick said, concern softening his rugged features.

An unexpected smile tugged at the corner of Danielle’s mouth. She had forgotten the familiar way in which he referred to her grandmother. Although Gram had never come out and said it, Danielle suspected she’d always had a special place in her heart for Patrick—the kind teen who had taken her grandchildren under his wing even though his own mother had given him grief for it.

“Come on.” Patrick reached for her overnight bag. She let the strap drop from her shoulder. Handing the bag over to him, their fingers brushed. A warm tingle surged up her arm, threatening to undo all the years she had worked to forget about the boy next door. To forget the fantasy of a silly teenager.

Patrick had run off and married someone else, hadn’t he? That fact had always sobered her up quickly.

He held out his palm, inviting her to walk ahead of him. She lifted her index finger and returned to her sister’s side. She pressed a gentle kiss to Jenny’s warm forehead. “Rest well, baby sis.” Tears pricked the back of her eyes.

“She’s going to be okay.” Patrick’s voice sounded husky behind her.

Danielle’s eyes slid shut and she nodded, unable to speak around a lump of emotion. Faith gave people hope. She wished a person could learn faith from a textbook. She had always been a good student. But some things just were. Or, in her case, weren’t.

She leaned in close so only her sister could hear. “Please be okay. You can’t leave me and Gram.”

When she turned around, she found Patrick studying her with kind eyes. Heat swept up her neck and warmed her cheeks. Had he heard her childish plea? Inwardly, she shook her head. No one heard her whisper.

Not even Patrick’s God.

Chapter Two

“You’re not going to make me sit in the back, are you?” Danielle shot Patrick a sideways glance as they approached his police cruiser, a hint of mischief sparking in her blue eyes. A wry smile graced her pink lips. A brisk wind gusted across the hospital parking lot and she tugged her jacket closed. She seemed a lot more sophisticated and thinner than he remembered, but she still had the same quick wit.

He opened the front passenger’s door. “Promise me you won’t play with the siren.”

She arched a brow. “No promises.”

Once they were both settled in the car, he turned the key in the ignition. “Did you want to stop for lunch before we go to Gram’s? You’ve been on the road a long time.”

“No. Thanks,” she added, if by way of afterthought. “I’m anxious to see Gram. She must be beside herself.” Without waiting for an answer, she pulled out her cell phone and checked the display. She let out a long sigh through tight lips. “I wish I could leave the office for one day without—” she raised her phone, “—
this
.”

“Indispensable, huh?” He suspected she didn’t take many days off. The way Gram talked, it sounded like she rarely left the office.

She pressed a few buttons on one of those fancy touch-screen cell phones. “I’d like to think so.” A mirthless smile touched her pink lips. “But haven’t you heard? Lawyers are a dime a dozen.” A thin line creased her forehead. “If I walked out the door today, there would be twenty lawyers lined up for my job in the morning.” She shook her head. “There’s no such thing as job security anymore.”

He opened his mouth to say something but her finger shot up in a hold-on-a-minute gesture. She lifted the phone to her ear.

Danielle was still fiddling with her cell phone when they arrived at Gram’s house. From what he’d gathered, she had a lot of projects at work in need of attention, and nothing short of an emergency would have drawn her back to Mayport.

He had a hard time believing it had been less than twelve hours since he had dialed Danielle’s number and heard her sleepy voice across the line. Her sweet voice, much like an old song, had immediately taken him back. Nostalgia and longing had flooded a part of his heart he thought had died with his wife.
What if?
What if things had been different back then? What if this was their second chance? He mentally shook his head.
You’re tired. You’re on edge from last night.
He refused to give credence to anything he was feeling right now. Besides, he had someone more important in his life now.

As he eased the cruiser up the rutted driveway, the car rocked back and forth. For the first time since they had left the hospital, his passenger’s head snapped up. An annoyed expression marred the delicate features of her narrow face. She planted her free hand on the dashboard for balance. “The driveway’s a mess.”

“The snowplow guy did a number on it last winter.”

“This place is getting too much for Gram to maintain.” Danielle ran her finger along her chin. He followed her gaze to the white farmhouse at the top of the drive and tried to see it through her eyes—crumbling roof tiles, dingy siding and unkempt landscaping.

“Maybe I should encourage her to put the house on the market. Downsize. Get some money for the house while she can.”

“Don’t tell my mother,” Patrick said dryly.

“Bunny’s still selling real estate?” Tilting her head, Danielle cut him a sideways look “She’d have the For Sale sign planted in the yard by sundown. And knowing your mother—” an unexpected flicker of amusement danced in her eyes, “—she’s probably already drafted a copy of the real-estate listing.” She tapped her lips with the edge of her cell phone and stared off in the distance. “Let’s see. Park-like setting. Real charmer. Needs TLC. Must see inside. Oh—” she lifted a finger, “—and great neighbors.”

He touched a finger to his nose and pointed at her. “You nailed it. You couldn’t ask for better neighbors than yours truly.” He patted her hand and was rewarded with a genuine smile. “I think you missed your calling,” he said in a light teasing tone before getting out of the car.

Danielle climbed out her side and slammed the door. “I really appreciate the ride.” She turned and twisted her ankle in a deep rut. He grabbed her forearm to steady her.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” Red crept up her neck. He remembered how easily she blushed. “These silly shoes.” She glanced down at the high heels poking out from underneath her jeans. “You’d think I would have grabbed tennis shoes on my way out the door this morning.”

Patrick shrugged. A nonanswer. But tennis shoes did seem more practical than high-heeled boots. Somehow he guessed Danielle was more about fashion than practicality. She certainly presented herself as put together. Totally professional.
Attractive
. Yet, the rough-and-tumble Danielle, the freshman girl who had moved in next door when he was a senior in high school, had been the one to catch his eye. Not that he didn’t enjoy the updated version.

He closed his eyes briefly. There he went again, pining for the old days. He yanked open the back door of his cruiser and grabbed her bag. “I’ll take this in for you.” He hiked the bag’s strap up onto his shoulder.

“Please, you’ve done enough. I’m sure you have to get back to work.”

“I am working.”

Danielle’s shoulders seemed to drop a fraction. “I know…I mean, I’m sure you have other work to do.”

“Listen, I know it’s hard for you to be back here.”

Her eyes widened, then immediately narrowed. “My job keeps me busy in Atlanta.” Her words framed a challenge.

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” He tilted his head, trying to catch her averted gaze. “You didn’t have the easiest childhood here.”

“A very astute observation, Officer Kingsley. Are you a psychologist now or just a fan of Dr. Phil?”

Patrick stifled a small chuckle. “Dr. Phil, huh? Listen, I didn’t mean to…” His words trailed off.

“I really do appreciate your being here for Gram… even though it is
your job
.” She put undue weight on the last two words. “But I’m okay.” She reached for the bag. “Really, I can carry my own bag. I’m not some helpless damsel in distress.” She batted her long eyelashes for emphasis.

He twisted his lips, studying her. “Suit yourself.” He pulled the strap off his shoulder and held out the bag. When he released the strap, her hand dropped with the weight of it.

She put the strap over her shoulder and suddenly seemed impatient. “I’ll see you later.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Patrick said, “I’ll collect my daughter.” Her eyes widened in surprise. He tipped his head toward the house. “Come on, I’ll get the door for you.”

The gravel crunched under Danielle’s feet. “I didn’t think Gram would be up for babysitting.” A hint of irritation threaded her tone. Apparently sensing it, she lifted a hand, a look of contrition settling on her pretty features. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just tired.”

“I understand.” He turned the handle and pushed on the door with his shoulder. One of these days he was going to fix the side door for Gram. It had swelled in its frame, making it difficult to open and close. “But I wouldn’t exactly call it babysitting,” Patrick said, holding the door open for her. “It’s more like keeping each other company.”

Danielle followed Patrick into the house. He disappeared into the family room while she drew up short in the kitchen. The familiar smell, a musty mix of Lemon Pledge and stale air, always made her breath hitch in her lungs. Gram sealed up the house tight at the first threat of frost. “No sense heating the outside,” she’d say.

The smell never failed to evoke the powerful memory of her first visit. Exhaling slowly, Danielle tried to calm her nerves. The familiar tingling had already started in her fingertips. Distracting herself, she soaked in the details of the room. The orange, stained linoleum and matching counters were a testament to the flower-powered seventies, dated even when she’d first laid eyes on them. All this was in stark contrast to the builder upgrades she had chosen prior to moving into her high-end townhouse in Atlanta.

Danielle tossed her overnight bag onto the chair. Hard to believe she was once a frightened fourteen-year-old girl whose mother had unceremoniously dumped off her and her sister to run away with the boyfriend
du jour
. At the time, Danielle had carried a white kitchen-garbage bag with all their belongings, the thin plastic stretching under her grip. Her baby sister had clutched a Superstar Barbie dressed in a fashionable pink gown with matching boa. Thinking about the doll made Danielle’s heart ache. At ten, when most girls were tiring of dolls, Jenny had clung tightly to her only prized possession.

“Are you going to come in?” Patrick’s question snapped her out of her reverie. Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and took a big bite. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and a hint of a smile lit his green eyes. When he returned to the living room, she closed her eyes, savoring the secret thrill zinging through her body.
Man, he’ s handsome
.