CHAPTER 17 
CHAPTER 17 The rain pattered down, running in sheets off the roof and shaking the shrubs as if trying to dislodge loose apples. Wearing a T-shirt, gym shorts, and sneakers, Trav eyed his weights and tried to find the energy to work out but couldn’t. He’d managed only two hours of sleep tonight. Two lousy, unrestful hours. He was so tired that just hearing his own breath irritated him.
He might as well work out. What else did he have to do? He’d just reached the bench when the porch light flipped on next door.
Surprised, he looked at the clock on the shelf over his dad’s workbench. One thirty-five. Odd to see the lights on at this time. He went to the garage door opening and watched.
Mrs. Giano stood on the porch, her tiny form lost in a huge, flowered housecoat. She shuffled to the top step and, one hand on the porch rail, the other clutching her robe tie, she looked out at the yard, peering into the rainy night as if looking for something.
“Don’t,” Trav muttered under his breath. “Go back inside.” When Dad’s illness had progressed, he’d grown confused about night and day, waking at odd hours and thinking it was time to get up. At first, Trav would attempt to put Dad back to bed, but it had irked the old man so much that Trav had quit trying. Eventually, whenever Dad would get up, thinking it was morning, Trav would accept it, escort him to the kitchen, and fix them both a big breakfast.
God, how Trav missed those breakfasts in the middle of the night. Even now, they seemed like some of the most peaceful times he’d ever had, even before he’d gone to war.
Mrs. Giano leaned over the step, swaying uneasily. “Here, Theo!” she called.
She’s looking for Killer. The cat hadn’t come home this evening, which wasn’t unusual, considering the rain. The animal was probably bedded down somewhere dry and safe.
“Theo!” Her voice, thin and reedy, was barely audible over the rush of the rain.
Trav looked up at the window where Grace’s bedroom was. He was slightly annoyed that he knew which room was hers. One night, completely by accident, he’d seen her closing the shade. She’d been dressed in a pink nightgown, clearly ready for bed, so it took almost no deduction to know where she slept. And right now, her room was dark.
Mrs. Giano wobbled down the steps, gripping the railing as if she were trying to keep her footing on a swaying ship. She blinked up at the rain but it didn’t stop her.
“Theo!” she called, clutching her housecoat tighter.
Trav must have made a noise, for she turned his way and, after a second’s hesitation, began to shuffle toward him.
The rain increased, the pitter-pat turning into a faint rumble. He could see her nightgown getting darker and wetter by the second, her curly white hair lying flat against her head.
Damn it. He strode to one side of the garage, shook out a small blue tarp, and, holding it over his head, went to meet her.
She’d just crossed through the gate into his yard when he reached her. He held the tarp over her. “Mama G, it’s a little late for a walk.”
“Late?” She moved from under the tarp and stared up at the sky, squinting into the rain, blinking as tiny drops hit her face.
He moved the tarp back over her. “Let’s go home. Grace will know where Theo is.”
The sharp tick tick of the rain told him it was coming down even harder now. He noticed that Mama G’s fluffy slippers were soaked and bedraggled. He winced, thinking of how cold the water must be.
“I can’t ask Grace,” Mama G said, looking astonished at the suggestion. “She’s taking a nap.”
“I bet Theo is in your house, hiding somewhere. I think I saw him go in there.”
“You did? Maybe I missed him. We’ll look again.” She patted his arm, smiling pleasantly as if she weren’t standing under a tarp in the middle of the night in the rain. “We can have some tea once we find him.”
“Sure.” He escorted her to her house. When they got there, he threw the wet tarp over the porch railing and followed her through the open door. He didn’t dare leave her alone, or she’d wander back outside.
“Theo?” she called, drifting here and there, looking under pillows and in other improbable places.
Trav wiped his feet on the mat and then took a step inside, and there he stood, blocking the door, unsure what to do next. If he yelled for Grace, it would upset Mama G and wake Daisy. Maybe he should text? That was an idea. He’d just pulled his phone from his pocket when Grace appeared on the stairs.
She was dressed in a long silky green sleep shirt, her hair sleep-mussed, faint circles under her eyes.
He’d never seen anyone look so beautiful.
Grace saw him, eyes widening. “What—”
He nodded toward Mama G, who was just now coming out of the sitting room.
“Mama G? How did you get so wet?” Grace hurried down the final steps.
“I’ve been looking for Theo. He shouldn’t be out in this weather.”
“We’ll find him. Here. Take off that wet housecoat.” Grace helped Mama G. “You’re shivering. Let’s get you into a dry nightgown and back to bed.”
“I can’t. Theo is outside and it’s raining. I thought he might be in here, but he’s not.” Mama G’s face creased with worry. “I can’t leave him in the rain. I’ll go find him—” She headed back to the door.
Trav stayed where he was, blocking the way.
Grace caught Mama G’s arm. “Wait! It’s too cold and wet to go outside.”
Mama G pulled free, her face tight with irritation. “I’m going to find Theo and bring him home.”
“He’s at my house,” Trav lied.
Both women looked at him.
Mama G regarded him suspiciously. “What’s he doing at your house?”
“Sometimes he likes to sleep on the blankets in the corner of my garage. I was working out when he came over, so he settled in.” He shrugged. “You know how cats are when it rains. They find a cozy corner, curl up in it, and stay.”
Grace nodded. “If he’s sleeping, we should leave him alone.”
“He’d hate being out in this rain, too.” Trav closed the door and then went to one of the windows off the porch and opened it a little. “There. Once it stops raining, Theo will come back home. If you leave your bedroom door open, he’ll find you.”
“You think he’ll come?” Mama G didn’t look convinced.
“I know he will. He’s a good cat.”
“He is a good cat.” Mama G’s brow relaxed, and she said to Grace, “Theo likes to sleep on my bed. He keeps my feet warm.”
He used to do the same thing for Dad. “Cats are good for that,” Trav said.
“I— Goodness!” Mama G shivered and crossed her arms. “How did these slippers get so wet?”
“Oh dear. We should get you out of those, shouldn’t we? Let’s go find your other pair.” Grace slipped her arm through Mama G’s and guided her to the stairs.
As they went up, Grace sent Trav a quick, fleeting smile. “Would you mind waiting for a moment? I’ll be right back.”
He’d wait longer than a moment. If she asked, he’d wait a lifetime.
The thought shocked him.
He didn’t know this woman, not really.
And yet, at this very minute, with one look, he knew everything she was feeling. She was worried and anxious, sad and relieved, all at once. Her feet were cold, but she didn’t care, and she was embarrassed to have been seen without her robe.
He didn’t know how he knew all of that, or why he was so sure. He just was.
They disappeared up the stairs, Mama G saying in a peevish voice, “I need to put a pillow on the bed for Theo.”
“Of course. He’ll like that.”
Grace returned some time later, this time wrapped in a robe, her hair brushed and clipped up. She looked every bit as sexy as she had before, and he realized it wasn’t what she wore. It was just her.
She stopped in front of him. “I just wanted to thank you. If she’d gotten lost in this weather—” She shook her head.
“I know. Dad used to wander, too.”
“How did you keep him in?” She sent a worried look at the door. “I don’t know how she does it, but she’s getting out.”
He went to examine the bolt. “She’d have to use a chair to reach that.” He looked around. “It doesn’t look like anything has been moved.”
“I don’t think she could move a chair. She’s gotten weaker over the past few months.” Grace tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s frustrating.”
“I bet so. Here. I’ll bolt the door for you now. If she tries to get out, we’ll hear her.”
Grace flashed him a grateful look. “Do you mind? She’s gotten tricky.”
He smiled. “It’s like taking care of the world’s fussiest and smartest toddler, isn’t it?” He bolted the door and turned to find her watching him.
“I know it’s late, but I’m going to make some tea for Mama G and myself. Would you like some, too?”
He didn’t drink tea. He never had. “I’d like that.” And he followed her into the kitchen.
He leaned against the counter as she pulled two tins from a cupboard and set them on the table. Then she filled three mugs with water, put them in the microwave, and turned it on.
“That should do it.” She stood by the counter as the water heated. “Have a seat.”
He sat in a chair by the table.
The microwave dinged and she pulled out the mugs, put them on a small tray, and carried them to the table. Then she opened a tin and dropped tea bags into two of the mugs.
The smell of the tea made him think of his mom. “Earl Grey.”
She smiled, her brown eyes twinkling. “Impressive. But it’s Lady Grey. It’s not as strong.” She crossed to a drawer near the sink and returned with a spoon and a small metal ball on a chain. She spooned some black tea from the other tin into the ball, snapped it shut, and put it into the last cup, the chain hanging over the side. “That’s for Mama G. It’ll calm her down enough to sleep.”
He picked up the tin. “Ava and her teas. I hear she’s making a fortune with these.”
“That one was a gift, so I’m not sure of the retail value. I asked for the ingredients, and she told me. Doc Bolton said he didn’t think they would hurt Mama G or interfere with her medicine, so I use it. I have to say, it works.” Grace winced. “Some days, I have to fight the urge to give it to her every ten minutes.”
He put the tin back on the table. “The uncertainty can wear you out.”
“Exactly.” She picked up Mama G’s tea. “I’m going to take this upstairs. I’ll be right back.”
He watched her go and wished he could tell her everything would be all right. That if she ever needed help, he could come over and— Do what? Moon around your house like a fool? Stay awake all night and wonder what’s wrong? You don’t need that in your life.
No, she needed someone who could offer real support. Someone stronger and less restless. Someone not me.
The urge to leave overwhelmed him. He stood, but hesitated. It would be rude to just disappear. He should write a note. Something short but nice. He’d just say that he was suddenly tired. He was, although he already knew that going home wouldn’t help that.
“Are you leaving?” She was in the kitchen doorway, obviously surprised to find him standing. “We haven’t had our tea.”
“Right. The tea.” He sat back down. “How’s Mama G?”
Grace came the rest of the way into the kitchen. “She took two sips and fell asleep.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I hope she stays that way.” Grace removed the tea bags, then she pushed the sugar and spoon his way.
She sat down and picked up her mug, resting it against her cheek as she closed her eyes. “That feels soooo good.”
He dumped a spoonful of sugar into his tea and stirred it, trying to pull his gaze from her. But he couldn’t. Instead, he tried the tea. It wasn’t too bad. Just for good measure, he added another spoonful of sugar. “You should set up a camera on that front door and figure out how she’s getting out.”
“I’m afraid of what I might find. Mama G believes in ghosts, you know.” Grace gave a little laugh. “I’m beginning to believe in them, too.”
A creak upstairs made her turn toward the door, her expression frozen as she listened.
After a moment, she stood. “Sorry. I keep thinking she might slip away. Would you mind if we moved to the sitting room? I’ll be able to see the front door from there.”
“Sure.” He picked up his mug and followed her.
She pushed aside the lap blanket that hung over the back of the couch and sat down, wincing when he stepped on a creaky board. “Sorry about that. There are a few things that need fixed in this house and that’s one of them.”
He looked from the empty side of the couch to a nearby chair. It would be more polite to sit in the chair, but he couldn’t resist sitting closer to her. He sat down on the couch, using one foot to move Mama G’s knitting basket out of his way, careful to give Grace plenty of room. “What else needs fixed?”
“Let me see. There’s that floorboard, the railing on the stairs is loose, a few slats on the fence are missing, and the sink upstairs has a slow leak.” She pursed her lips. “I think that’s all, but there may be more.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad. I should stop by one afternoon and fix those things for you.”
She waved her hand. “No. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
He shrugged. “It would let me spend more time with Daisy and Mama G.” He laughed at Grace’s surprised look. “I know. I can’t believe I said that, either. But they’ve grown on me. Daisy would make a good mechanic. She’s a fast learner.”
“She’s smart.” Grace sipped her tea, and her eyes sparkled at him.
“What is it?”
“You. You’re so big and bad-ass looking, and yet here you sit, drinking hot tea.”
“Bad-asses like tea too. Ask Ava.”
Grace smiled. “Ava is a lot of fun, but you’re closer to Sarah.”
“She’s been my closest friend since elementary school.”
“She believes in ghosts.”
“Sarah believes in fairies, gnomes, and giants, too. She’s read too many books.”
Grace laughed. “You think so? I think she’s read just enough. Well, except on one topic.”
“What topic is that?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Let me guess. Blake.”
Grace scrunched her nose. “Does everyone know?”
“Pretty much. The people in this town talk. Plus, they’re both friends of mine.”
“That must be awkward.”
“A little. I don’t really understand what’s going on, but they’ll work it out.”
“I hope so.” She eyed him over her cup. “Since people around here gossip, I daresay you know everything there is to know about me.”
He knew some things, sure. People did talk, and because she was new and making changes, she was one of their favorite subjects.
But he didn’t know the really important things, like her favorite color, why she wore her hair parted the way she did, or if she knew how adorable she looked in her too-big robe, her bare feet flat on the sitting room rug.
He lifted his mug to take a drink, and his gaze met hers. Time froze. Something sizzled between them, something too hot and raw to be contained or described. He felt it, and he could see that she did, too.
“Trav?”
“Yes?” God, but she had the most delicious lips he’d ever seen. How had he never noticed that until now?
She flushed. “Nothing.” She looked at him over the rim of her mug. “Tell me about you.”
“There’s not a lot to tell. Most of it would bore you.”
She smiled. “Try me.”
So he did. He told her about his dad. About his friendship with Sarah. About why he liked his motorcycle and the garage. He talked, and she listened and laughed, and every once in a while she’d ask a question that made him wonder why no one had ever asked it before. As he talked, the bitter heat seemed to seep away, eased by the lightness of her laugh and the coolness of her gaze.
A half hour passed and he realized he was talking way too much. Their mugs were empty by the time he paused, his face heating when he realized how much time had passed. “I’ve been talking enough. Tell me about you.” He turned a bit more toward her as he spoke, his foot bumping against Mama G’s knitting basket.
Grace put down her empty mug. “Here. Let me move that.” She bent down and pulled the basket toward her. “There’s not much to tell that you probably don’t already know. I’ve lived—” Her voice caught.
Trav frowned.
She didn’t move but stared at the knitting basket on the floor at her feet.
“What is it?”
She didn’t answer.
“Grace?”
She took a shuddering breath, then reached into the basket and pulled out a long, ragged chain of red yarn.
As little as he knew about knitting, he recognized that it was a mess. There were tangles and knots in the frayed yarn, as if someone had tugged and pulled it in frustration.
Grace raised tear-filled eyes to his. “She’s forgotten how to knit.”
He recognized this moment. He’d had the exact same reaction the day he’d realized his dad could no longer recall how to put together an engine, something he’d done hundreds of times before, something that was as intrinsic to who Dad was as his own name.
Grace’s lip quivered, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She hugged the tattered yarn as if it were a teddy bear, and she a child.
Trav didn’t hesitate. He reached over, pulled her into his arms, and tucked her head in the crook of his shoulder. She hugged the tangled yarn, turned her face toward his shoulder, and with a shuddering sob, she wept.
Trav kept his arms around Grace, his cheek against her hair, wishing with all his heart that he knew how to ease her pain. But there was nothing he could do.
So he kept her there, holding her, rubbing her back, whispering against her hair that it was okay if she cried. That tears were good and helped heal wounds. That if she wanted to talk, he was there, and if she didn’t, that was fine, too.
As he spoke, she quieted, but she made no move to leave the circle of his arms.
Carefully, Trav leaned back, pulling her against him. He found the blanket that rested over the back of the couch and tugged it over her, tucking her in.
And there he stayed.
A short time later, they fell asleep, cozy under the blanket, wrapped in each other’s arms, his shirt still damp from her tears.
• • •
Trav awoke so slowly that for a minute, he didn’t know he was awake. He blinked sleepily at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to fight his way through the edges of a delicious dream.
Something was different. Something important.
It took him a moment to realize what it was. A warm body snuggled against him, a rounded arm slung over his chest, silky hair tickling his cheek.
Heaven.
But it was more than that. It was the flood of early-morning sunshine that lit the room. It was the fact he’d just awoken from a deep, deep sleep.
He blinked awake. Oh my God, I slept through the entire night.
How long had it been since he’d done that? A year? Two?
Grace stirred, snuggling deeper, fitting against him as if made to be there, and he suddenly remembered Mama G’s knitting basket and Grace’s agony from the night before.
He tugged the blanket higher over her shoulder and rested his cheek back against her hair. He would have to leave soon, before anyone else in the house was awake, but for now, he’d stay where he was, holding her for as long as he could.