The Magic in Your Touch (6 page)

“Nate?”

 

“My grandmother made this quilt for me. It’s the only thing I took with me when my parents washed their hands of me.” His voice fell to a whisper. “It’s the only thing I wanted.”

 

Bran pulled the fabric from his hands and guided him out of the room. They were almost to the bedroom door when Nate stopped him. “Wait. Bran, did you read that message on the wall?”

 

“Yeah, but you don’t need to look at it. My men took pictures. That’s enough.”

 

“No. It was meant for me. I want to read it. Maybe I can pick up some clues about who might have done this.”

Nathan turned around and gave careful consideration to the message scrawled on the sheetrock, not in paint this time, but in blood. “God is coming. All of Sodom will perish.” He turned and walked out, feeling sick all over again.

* * * Rage welled up inside of Brandon as he settled Nathan into the passenger seat of the SUV. The amount of hatred it took to do something like that was almost inconceivable to him. He had just eased into the driver’s seat and closed his door when the radio sounded.

“Sheriff, you copy?”

 

Bran pushed the com button. “Yeah, dispatch. Go ahead.”

 

“Dewey just reported in from that check he did over at the doctor’s office. Looks like the office got hit, too.”

Brandon hit the stirring wheel hard enough to make the horn sound. “Fuck!” He took one look at Nate’s white face and forced himself to calm down. He mashed the com button again. “Dispatch? Tell Dewey I’m on my way over now. Sheriff, out.”

By the time they were finished surveying the damage to the office, Brandon was ready to explode and Nate was dead on his feet. The office was an echo of the damage done to the apartment: more threats and slurs, scattered files, and ripped furniture. Equipment had been smashed and medicine bottles were lying broken all over the floor. They stayed until Nate started shaking. That’s when Brandon insisted they leave.

He drove them back to the farmhouse, ushering Nate inside and letting Sasha out so she could run. She surprised him by refusing to go. Instead, she walked over to where Nate was sitting on the couch and put her head n his lap. Brandon felt his eyes getting moist as he noticed the dejected look on Nate’s face.

“Are you hungry? I think I’ve got a can of biscuits in the refrigerator.”

 

“No, thanks. I’m still a little nauseous.”

 

“Understandable, under the circumstances.”

 

“Yeah. What time is it?”

 

“Almost eight.”

 

“Oh. What about Amy? And my patients?”

“I’ve got my office trying to locate Amy, but so far there’s no answer at the number you gave us for Mike’s aunt. None of the hospitals in Atlanta have a patient by that name, either. It’s possible they’re on their way back here, but we’ll just have to wait and see. As for your patients, Cindy’s referring them all to a doctor in Chicago until we can analyze the crime scene and get someone to come in and clean it up.”

“I need to call my insurance company. I have renter’s insurance on my apartment, and the office is fully covered.”

 

“You can do all that later. First, we need to have a talk.”

 

Nate sighed. “Why do I not like the sound of that?”

“Because I think you know what I’m about to say. Nate, don’t you think it’s just too much of a coincidence that on the same night you receive a blow to the head, Amy and Mike, the only friends you have in town, are called to the bedside of a sick aunt over seven hundred miles away. The very same night that your apartment is trashed and your office is vandalized.”

“You aren’t suggesting that Amy and Mike had something to do with this?” Nate looked ready to do battle, even as tired as he obviously was.

 

“Of course not. I believe the man who hit you set it up so that Amy and Mike would get that call and leave you with no choice but to go home to your apartment. I think he went there to kill you, Nate.”

 

Chapter 3

Finding out someone wanted you dead was a lot easier when you had somebody to lean on. When Brandon called his office and told them he would be at home for the rest of the day, Nate almost wept with relief. In less than twenty-four hours, Brandon Nash had gone from perfect stranger to pillar of strength. Every time Nathan tried to sink into himself, Bran was there to pull him right back out.

Finally, after hours spent dealing with the insurance company and worrying about why he still hadn’t heard from Mike and Amy, Nate was ragged to the point of exhaustion. He made no protest when Brandon led him upstairs and tucked him into bed. He was asleep before Brandon could close the door behind him.

* * *

During his years at Atlanta Northern, Nate learned how to sleep through almost anything. Sleeping in the on-call room was something every doctor did at one time or another, especially a doctor in charge of critically ill newborns whose condition could take a turn for the worse at any given moment.

Despite all that conditioning, Nate came awake with a start the minute he felt cool fingertips fluttering across his forehead. He opened his eyes expecting to see Brandon, not a five-foot female with red hair and eyes the same color as the sheriff’s.

“Sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just checking to make sure you don’t have a fever. Brandon said you threw-up this morning.”

 

“Yes ma’am, I did, but—”

 

“I know. All that blood would have made me sick, too. I could just about throttle that son of mine for taking you into such a mess in the first place. And you with a head injury, too.”

 

“Your son?”

 

“Yes, of course. Brandon—” She stopped for a minute. “Good grief. I forgot to even introduce myself. I’m Gale Nash, Brandon’s mother.”

 

Gale was a beauty. To look at her, no one would guess she was pushing sixty. She was short and trim, with a pixie’s face and the same dazzling smile as Brandon. Nate fell in love with her at once.

 

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m—”

 

“Nathan Morris, but Brandon calls you Nate.”

 

“Yes, ma’am, he does.”

 

Gale sat down in the chair next to the bed. “So, sweetie, how are you holding up?”

 

“I’m alright.”

 

“No offense, Nathan, but I’m a mother, and I can tell when one of my children is just telling me what I want to hear. You, my boy, are definitely not alright.”

Nate was about to argue when those damn tears started up. Before he knew it, he was being held and rocked against a warm breast that smelled of Channel Number Five and allspice. The comfort of the scents and the feel of being held by a mother, even if she wasn’t his own, was too much for Nate. He sobbed like a man whose heart was breaking.

When he was finally able to pull himself together, Gale handed him a tissue and waited patiently while he swabbed his eyes and blew his nose.

 

“Mrs. Nash, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“First of all, you can call me Gale, or Mom, but not Mrs. Nash. Mrs. Nash is my mother-in-law, a lovely woman, but not exactly how I see myself yet. In twenty years, maybe. Second of all, you don’t have a thing in this world to be sorry for. I’m sure if your mother were here, she would do the same thing.”

Nate shook his head. “No, ma’am, she wouldn’t. My parents disowned me when they found out I was gay.”

Gale reached over and squeezed Nate’s hand. “In that case, I hope you’ll consider us your family. You already know Brandon and Keith. When you’re feeling better, I’ll introduce you to the whole clan. Right now, though, I want you to try and go back to sleep. Those dark circles under your eyes are just screaming for some rest. After your nap, come downstairs and eat some of the supper I brought for you and Brandon. I swear that boy doesn’t know how to fix anything that doesn’t come in a plastic tray.”

As she was leaving, Nate said, “Gale?”

 

“Yes, sweetheart?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“That’s what family is for, Nate.”

* * * Gale Nash sat down at the kitchen table still fuming, madder than Brandon had seen her since the day he and his brothers killed one of Grandpa Taylor’s goats with a potato gun. Not even Sasha, who adored his mom, was brave enough to come into the kitchen with the agitated woman. She wisely chose to take a nap on her doggie bed.

“What kind of mother disowns a sweet boy like that just because he’s gay? I’d like to get that bitch alone in a room for about ten minutes, just enough time to put the fear of God into her.”

 

“Mother!”

 

“Save it, Brandon. I’m not saying anything you haven’t heard before. A woman like that doesn’t deserve a son like Nathan.”

 

“From what Nate has told me, I think it was mostly his father’s decision. I believe his mother and brother probably just go along with whatever he says.”

Gale got up and started unpacking the food she’d brought. “Maybe so, but no man is worth abandoning your own child. Do you think for one minute I would let your father tell me I couldn’t see one of my babies?”

Brandon grinned. He came up behind his mom and gave her a squeeze. He might be over a foot taller than her, but all Gale’s children knew she was the boss.

 

“Not all mothers are like you, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and then went to the cupboard to get some plates. “By the way, have I told you lately how lucky I am to have a mom like you?”

 

“Yes, dear, but I never get tired of hearing it.” She put the last of the food on the counter and then turned to her son. “So, how come Nathan is sleeping in the guestroom instead of in your bed?”

 

Bran almost dropped the glassware he was holding. “Jesus, Mom, I just met the guy yesterday.”

 

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. And don’t give me that bull. When have you ever let not knowing someone stop you from taking him to bed?”

 

“I admit, I have had my share of one night stands, but, for your information, I haven’t been with anybody since I ended it with Jeff. Besides, Nate isn’t like that, he’s—”

 

“Special?”

 

Bran paused before answering. “Yes.”

 

Gale turned her back to him, but not before he saw her smile. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

 

Bran closed the cabinet and went to stand in front of his mother. “You knew?”

“That you haven’t been with anyone since Jeff turned from a prince back into a frog? Of course I knew it. I also know that you didn’t have actual ‘sex’ with any of your one night stands. And I was pretty sure you were attracted to Nathan, but I wanted to be sure.”

“You are absolutely spooky, you know that? How do you know so much about my sex life?” “I’ve told you before, Brandon. Mothers just know these things. Why do you think you and your brothers and sisters were never able to get away with anything?”

Brandon pulled a chair away from the table and straddled it. “So, Madam Psychic, tell me what you see when you look at Nate.”

Gale sat down across from her son. “I see a man who’s almost at the end of his rope, Bran. I don’t think he’s ever really dealt with loosing his family the way he did. I believe these attacks have only served to reopen a wound that never healed in the first place.” She reached over and put her hand on Brandon’s arm. “You did the right thing by calling me, son. That boy is going to need all the love and attention he can get if he’s going to make it through this.”

“He’ll make it.”

 

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

 

Bran shook his head. “Mama, do you remember what I was like when I came back here from Quantico?”

 

Gale shuddered. “As if I could ever forget. I’d heard about post traumatic stress disorder, but I’d never actually seen it up close before. Thank goodness you got over it.”

 

“Yes, but what I haven’t told you is that I still can’t sleep through the night without reliving that day all over again.”

 

The alarm on Gale’s face was the very reason Bran hadn’t told her about the dreams before now. “Honey, you aren’t still sick, are you?”

“Calm down, Mom. I’m fine. The psychologist they sent me to said I’ll probably always have those dreams, even though I’m psychologically sound again. After three years, I’ve learned to live with them. The thing is, last night, I didn’t have a single nightmare.” When he thought about the dreams he did have, he blushed.

Gale’s children didn’t call her old eagle eye for nothing. “Brandon Nash, did you by any chance dream about a certain eligible young doctor last night?” His silence was answer enough. “Well, it’s obvious he’s good for you. I hope you won’t do anything stupid like letting him slip away from you.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. Letting Nate go is the last thing on my mind. And until we catch the creep who’s after him, I plan to keep him here with me.”

 

“When were you planning on telling me about these plans you’ve made for my life?”

 

Bran and Gale looked up at the same time to see a rumpled Nate standing in the doorway. Brandon’s voice was hoarse when he said, “How long have you been standing there?”

 

“Just long enough to know that my living arrangements have changed.” He walked into the kitchen and Brandon got a good look at him.

His hair was matted down in spots and sticking straight out in others. His clothes were wrinkled from being slept in, and his face was drawn and haggard. Even looking like a zombie movie reject, Brandon’s body instantly went into overdrive the minute he saw him.
Gale got up and grabbed her purse. Brandon stood the minute his mother did and pulled her into a hug.

“Thanks for coming, Mom. Oh, and thanks for bringing dinner.”

 

“Anytime, honey.” She walked over and gave Nathan a warm hug and kiss. “You hang in there, sweetie. I’ll call and check on you tomorrow.”

 

“Thanks, Gale. For everything.”

 

She patted his cheek. “That’s what moms are for.” She kissed Brandon again before moving towards the door. “Call if you need me.” Blowing them both kisses, she left.

 

Brandon took Nate’s hand and led him towards the table. “Sit down while I dish up some of this stuff Mom brought.”

 

Nate took a seat, but said, “I’m not really hungry.”

 

“Nate, you haven’t had anything since that two-dollar ham sandwich at the hospital last night. You’ve got to eat something.”