Celia watched Remo go, her heart flipping unevenly for a reason she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Was she nervous about being left alone for a minute or two? She didn’t think so. She was well accustomed to being the sole provider and protector for her son. Was she scared overall? Absolutely. But she was also sure her day-to-day life carried an underlying fear, and she faced it willingly because it was worth it. So whatever it was that caused the dance in her chest, it was directly related to Remo’s receding back. Directly related to Remo himself.
As he took a final step, then turned and disappeared through a nearby door, Celia had to swallow against the sudden lump in her throat, and shove down an urge to chase after him again. It was then that she clued in. She wasn’t scared for herself and Xavier. Not any more than usual, anyway. At the moment, she worried about Remo. And not just because she felt personally responsible for dragging him into the current mess, but because—even though she’d just met him—she didn’t want anything to happen to him.
It was undeniably strange for Celia to feel her bubble of protectiveness grow so rapidly. She knew she always felt that way about her son. Like she wanted to shield him from even the slightest harm. She’d never experienced it for anyone else. But it was definitely there for Remo. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Xavier waiting in the family room, she might not have been able to stop her feet from moving in Remo’s direction. It was more difficult than it should’ve been to spin and walk back toward her son. But thankfully, once she was standing in front of Xavier—who’d moved out of the wheelchair and into a cozy corner of the couch—the worry over Remo’s well-being faded to the back of her mind.
“How’s the book?” she asked.
“Good.” He closed the item in question and peered past her shoulder. “Where’s Remo?”
Celia stepped into the room and sank down beside him. “You like him, huh?”
“I asked him to be my best grown-up friend, and he said yes. Is that okay?” He frowned, then added, “Don’t you like him?”
“Of course I do. Kinda hard not to like someone who rescued us from a car crash, right?”
“Yep. But I think I’d like him anyway.”
“Yeah, me, too, kiddo,” Celia admitted.
Xavier snuggled a little closer. “Mommy?”
She looked down at the top of her son’s head, surprised. The moment he’d started kindergarten, he’d dropped into calling her “Mom” unless he was sick.
“What’s wrong, baby?” she asked.
He twirled his thumb into her pants, making the cotton pucker as he answered in a small voice, “My dad was there.”
Celia’s heart dropped. “What?”
“At the accident,” he said.
“You’ve never met your dad, bud.” As soon as she said it, she was unequivocally sure it was true. “How do you know he was there?”
“I heard you.”
She worked to keep calm. “You did? What did I say?”
“You told me to pull down the back seat and hide in the trunk. And I did. There were some bumpity-bumps, and you were saying something about my dad. Then the car went BOOM and everything was spinny and I was stuck until Remo got me.”
With the mini flood of words, a fuzzy memory trickled in and Celia closed her eyes and rested her chin on her son’s head while trying to grasp it. She could recall spying the flash of headlights. The fact that she knew the encroaching car and its driver. The fear as the vehicle bumped hers. And then came the patch of slick road. Oil mixed with water, maybe? She wasn’t sure. But as her tires had hit it, she’d realized she was going to lose control of her car.
You can’t have him. It doesn’t matter if you’re his dad or not, you don’t deserve him.
She distinctly remembered thinking those exact words immediately before losing control of the car. Had she said them aloud? Yelled them with as much desperation and gusto as she’d felt them? Maybe she had, even if she hadn’t meant to.
She dragged her eyes open and looked down at her son’s head. He was engrossed in his book again, distracted in that easy way that kids tended to be. But Celia knew he deserved an explanation of some kind. What could she offer him at that moment, though? She’d clearly created some kind of mental block where his father was concerned. She had no recollection of his face or his name. All she had were the feelings associated with him. Dread and fear. An absolute need to stay away from him.
It was so incredibly maddening, to reach into her memory and find nothing but a black hole. Trying to do it almost hurt. It made her eyes burn, and she had to draw in a steadying breath to keep in the tears.
So what do I tell Xavier about his father in our everyday life?
Celia considered it. She wasn’t a liar. But her son was only five. There had to be a balance, for when he asked questions. She couldn’t see herself simply brushing off his concerns or trying to change the subject, but she could imagine skirting around the issue a little. Telling him that his dad wasn’t in the picture because the world was full of gray areas, and in this case, the gray area was about positive role models. Was it a cop-out? Maybe a little. But she could practically hear herself saying it, and could practically see Xavier’s solemn nod in response.
Swallowing, she opened her mouth to offer a similar excuse now. But whatever she’d been about to say stayed stuck in her mouth. Because—quite suddenly—they weren’t alone. In the doorway stood a statuesque, sixtyish woman. Her dark eyes were both shrewd and kind, and she had them directed at Celia, who was momentarily too surprised by her presence to react properly.
And why does she look so familiar?
Puzzled, Celia stared at her for a second. The woman’s hair was long and gray, and hung in two braids that nearly hit her waist. She wore a uniform emblazoned with the hospital logo and a lanyard hung from her neck. There was a card fastened to it, and when it swung sideways the name Wendy flashed into view.
Do I even know a Wendy?
Before she could mentally posit an answer, the woman—Wendy—stepped into the room, speaking as she moved.
“Well...” She greeted her with a smile. “As my grandma used to say...look what the cat drug in.”
Belatedly, Celia realized that in spite of the apparent friendliness, the woman’s familiarity might stem from another blocked memory. And if that were true, then there was a strong possibility that her presence was a bad thing.
She started to stand, planning to make herself a human shield if she had to. But she didn’t make it all the way to her feet before her son looked up, noticed the woman, too, then let out a decidedly un-Xavier-like noise—something pretty close to a squeal of excitement.
“Nana Wendy!” he said excitedly, then tugged on Celia’s arm. “Mom, Mom! That’s the lady who got me the extra pudding from the secret room!”
“Nana Wendy? Xavier, what...” Celia trailed off as Remo appeared behind the woman.
His expression was as puzzling as everything else. He looked...sheepish. Almost embarrassed. He seemed to be deliberately avoiding Celia’s gaze. Even after Xavier tossed back his hospital blanket and sprung out to throw himself at Remo’s legs, and the big man scooped him up for a bear hug, he addressed the older woman without a word of introduction. And the resulting conversation made Celia even more curious than she’d been in the moments leading up to it.
“I told you I’d meet you here,” Remo stated, his voice tinged with the same feelings that were reflected on his face. “I didn’t tell you to ambush my new friend and his mom. In fact, I think I might’ve specifically said, ‘Don’t ambush them.’ Maybe I even added in a please.”
“Oh, Remo. You know I always do the opposite of what you want.”
“Yeah, and that’s precisely why I added the please.”
Wendy dismissed the comment with a wave. “That only made me nosier. And now I see that my nosiness was warranted. Your new friend’s mom is extraordinarily pretty. Interesting that you didn’t mention that.”
“Didn’t seem relevant.” As he said it, Remo brought one of his hands up to the back of his neck, his cheeks ruddy.
Celia’s own face was warm. And she still felt a little clueless. Wendy was obviously someone Remo had recruited for assistance, and she was also clearly someone who knew him well.
“A pretty woman is always relevant, dear,” the older woman said.
And then it hit Celia. As she looked from Remo to Wendy, she actually kicked herself a little for not immediately clueing in.
They had the same squarish jaw. The same defined cheekbones. And even though her irises were coffee-colored rather than azure, there was no denying that the shape of them was identical. The matching height and strong, hold-the-weight-of-the-world shoulders were a dead giveaway, too. “Nana Wendy” absolutely had to be Remo’s mother.
Remo spied the sudden understanding in Celia’s face, and for some inexplicable reason, knowing that she knew made his neck heat. He had an urge to loosen a tie he wasn’t even wearing.
It wasn’t that asking his own mother for help was embarrassing. He wasn’t the kind of man who thought relying on family was a source of shame.
It also wasn’t the fact that his mom had pointed out Celia’s good looks. Twice. Remo was already more than acquainted with that particular fact.
This was something else. He felt like a teenager, about to introduce his high school crush to his mom. Which he supposed he was doing. Minus the teenager part, of course.
Remo shifted Xavier from one hip to the other, and noted that his mom was staring at him with a single raised eyebrow. It was a look Remo knew well. She was waiting. With impatient mom-patience. It made him realize that he hadn’t actually done any introducing yet.
He cleared his throat. “Celia, this is my mother, Wendy. Mom, this is Celia Poller.”
His mom’s eyebrow went up a little more—a final chastisement—and then dropped as she smiled widely and stuck her palm out. “It’s absolutely lovely to meet you, even under the circumstances.”
Celia’s face was flushed, but she took his mom’s proffered handshake. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“And you met my new buddy earlier,” Remo added.
His mom shot a wink toward Xavier. “The pudding monster.”
“That’s me!” the kid agreed enthusiastically. “Are you really Remo’s mom?”
“I sure am.”
“But you’re not that old!”
“I like you better every second.” She poked him in the stomach, prompting the kid to let out a giggle. Then she turned her attention back to Celia. “Are me and the little guy ready to get going to my place?”
“You and the little guy?” Celia echoed, turning a concerned look toward Remo. “What’s she talking about?”
“I didn’t get quite that far, Mom,” Remo said.
“Quite what far?” his mom replied. “You mean as far as letting her know that I’m the resident getaway car?”
Celia drew in a sharp breath, and Remo fought a groan.
“Mom, seriously,” he said. “My goal is to make her feel safe. Not like an escaped convict. I was going to explain the plan before you got here, then you were going to arrive and be your kind and sweet self.”
His mom lifted her eyebrow again. “Oh. You wanted me to turn on my grandmotherly charm?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” he replied.
She let out a sigh, then dropped her voice into a phony-sounding quaver. “All right, sonny boy. Hand over the kid.”
Rolling his eyes, Remo lifted a giggling Xavier off his hip and held him out toward his mom, who took him with a grin.
“Well, thank you muchly,” she said, then spun to carry Xavier to the couch, speaking in a pseudo whisper as she moved. “I think your mom and my son need to have a chat out in the hall.”
“They already talked for a long time in the hallway,” Xavier informed her. “What else can they say?”
“Who knows? Grown-ups are weird.”
Remo fought another eye roll, then gestured for Celia to follow him out the door. Once they were safely out of earshot, she spoke first.
“You want me to let your mom take Xavier?” she said.
“It’s our best option.”
“I can probably think of six better ones off the top of my head.”
“But how many are you sure would work while still making sure no one gets hurt? You said no collateral damage, remember?”
“And you think your mom isn’t collateral?” she replied, her voice shaking. “And you also think that separating from my son is something I’d even consider?”
He reached for her hands, and was grateful when she let him clasp both rather than pulling away. “I think you’d do whatever needed to be done to keep him safe. And this is it. Your ex or his men or whoever’s watching the hospital...they don’t know who Xavier is, do they?”
She bit her lip, then exhaled. “No, I don’t think so. Xavier’s never met his dad.”
“Which means they’re looking for you. They won’t notice a grandmother and her grandson. Especially since they’re just going to walk out the front door like they’ve got nothing to hide. Trust me on this, Celia. Nothing—no one—could be a safer choice for getting Xavier out of here without incident.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Remo closed his eyes for a long beat, then sighed and opened them again. “Do you remember when I told you about my father?”
Celia’s gaze softened. “Yes, of course.”
“The day that it happened, my mom brought me here. We went through Emergency, got my arm set in a cast, and then...we stayed.”
“What do you mean?”
“We had nowhere to go. My mom’s parents died when she was younger, and she had no siblings and no aunts or uncles. We sure as hell couldn’t go anywhere near my dad’s side of the family. My mom told me later that she thought about going to a shelter, but she was so tired, and she had access to everything she needed here. Stolen, of course, but still...” He smiled; he couldn’t help it.
Celia’s expression, though, was incredulous. “You stowed away in a hospital?”
“It was easier than you’d think. Although that might’ve been because my mom was—still is—pretty resourceful. She found a resident’s room and rigged it so she was the only one who could open it, then stuck an out-of-order sign on the door.”
“But...how long did you live like that?”
“If you ask my mom, she’ll tell you a couple of days, but I’m sure it was weeks. I swear we were here long enough for me to actually get my cast taken off.”
“So what happened? You didn’t get caught?”
His nodded. “Oh, we did get caught. A doctor found us. But lucky for us, she’d been in the emergency room when we came in, and she’d seen the havoc wreaked by my father. So she didn’t turn us in. She helped my mom get a job in the cafeteria, where she still works now. She put us up in a room in her house until we could afford our own place. She’s an admin here now, actually.”
“That’s pretty incredible,” Celia said.
“Things could’ve turned out worse,” he agreed.
“And what happens after they leave?”
Remo didn’t let his relief at her implicit agreement show. “We stay here for another half hour while a misdirect is created on our behalf. Tanya—the administrator I mentioned before—is giving us a hand. She’s ‘officially’ moving you to a different room, and in thirty minutes, she’s going to make an announcement over the speaker on your floor that will tell anyone who’s listening that’s what happened. But a little bit after that, she’ll let your new nurses know she made a mistake, and that you were actually discharged. And I’ve got a doctor friend coming by with a round of antibiotics and some bandages and stuff so I can keep you from keeling over.”
“I’m not going to keel over.”
“Yet. But if you get an infection...”
She made a face, then sighed. “It’s all so complicated.”
“And it will work,” he assured her.
“So then we walk out the front door, too?”
“Not exactly.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Should I be worried?”
“Not unless you hate riding on a gurney,” he replied. “You become a body under a sheet, I become your transporting attendant.”
“Great. So in order to avoid death, I pretend to be dead.”
“Oldest trick in the how-to-escape-a-hospital book.”
Her gaze dropped to their still-clasped hands, and when she spoke again, her voice was nearly a whisper. “I’m scared, Remo.”
He let her hands go and pulled her into an embrace instead. “I know you are. And my mom knows, too. That’s how you can be sure that she won’t take a risk.”
Celia continued to rest her head against his chest for a long moment before she leaned back and looked up at him. “All right. Let’s get it over with before I change my mind and decide your mom’s plan to live in hiding in the hospital is a better idea.”
He bent and gave her a light kiss, then released her. “Ready when you are.”
She smiled and turned back toward the room where her son waited. Before she could get more than a step away, though, Remo called out to her.
“Celia?”
She paused and swung her face his way. “Yes?”
“Please don’t ever tell anyone that story about us living in the hospital. The only people who’re aware of it are me, my mom, and Tanya. And now you.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” She put her hand over her heart in a seemingly unconscious gesture, then turned away again.
Remo watched her for a moment, then lifted his own hand to his chest in a move that mirrored hers. There was a warmth there, just under his rib cage. And he was strangely certain it was only going to grow.