CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

“WANT TO get going? Looks like rain.”

After what must have been half an hour on the grass, Myah sat up from their comfortable recline to nod at Keir. By the time they took the short walk to the house, the warm air had turned moist with rain.

Skye helped her pack up chicken, salad, steak and grilled vegetables while Keir showered. How they ended up with so many leftovers was a real fish and five loaves mystery, but she’d have dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow. She had been ecstatic that Dylan got along so well with the other kids, but never anticipated the gut-wrenching wails to stay. For ten minutes he sobbed in the backseat, missing his friends, calling for Neely and Adjo, and searched around for a red haired Ca de Bou.

Myah muttered she once again sat on top of the Worst Mother in the World list. She reached back to wipe his face and cold-clogged nose, and hoped he’d exhaust himself soon so as not to irritate his chest and head.

“I don’t know how Awan kept all these children in line. I have problems with just one.”

“He’s got a special touch.”

“He seems like the main caretaker.”

“Awan had a very strict childhood in his homeland, torture and all that for the Christian faith, so he likes that his children can play free. I think it pacifies him to watch them enjoy themselves.”

She faced front and looked at Keir. It had relaxed her to see Dylan use him as a jungle gym. Keir had made his limbs available while carrying on a casual conversation with his brother-in-law. Of course, she nearly flipped when they roughhoused and when he dangled Dylan upside down by his ankle, but remembered her father had done it with Darren, and her brother-in-law with her nephew.

Really. She could never have been a boy.

She eased a smile and played with the hair curved at his ear and neck. “Thanks for letting me meet them.”

He looked content. Her heart warmed before she focused her attention on his surprisingly steady driving. Well, when one had a ten-and-two o’clock death grip on the wheel, it was bound to be steady.

“Why doesn’t this buck as much as when I drive it?”

He threw her a devious smile. “Because I know how to handle her.”

The comment garnered heat and chills. From the look on Keir’s face when his eyes returned to the road, he felt heat and chills for a different reason. His clenched jaw ticked and his eyelids blinked more frequent than usual. She rubbed from his forearm to his wrist, letting him know he could do this.

He was doing it but looked ready to jump out of his skin the entire time.

She squeezed his hand and kept him busy. “Your brother is smart and funny and kind. I’m surprised he’s not involved with anyone again.”

“No time to date.”

“Hm. So this sabbatical is what, to sow his wild oats or something?”

Keir’s gaze looked distant. “Find himself.”

They were quiet for a minute before he spoke again through the defroster vent’s hum.

“He’d always taken care of me, tried to look out for Skye, married Caitlin right out of high school. Hart’s never had time to himself. I think he’s just realized it.”

Ingrid went through something similar, but Myah discovered the overbearing posture made up her sister to the bone. Ingrid would stretch herself to help others no matter what.

When they arrived at her sister’s place, Myah rang the bell and held Dylan while Keir stood behind with the small overnight backpack. She preferred to give Keir and Ingrid more time with each other, but didn’t want to prolong his driving experience now that he had a pretty good head start.

She had no idea he’d be this uncomfortable. There had to be more to his story than nerves behind the wheel of a small vehicle. He tried to hide it, but she’d seen the terror. He was messed up.

“Well, hello-hello.” Ingrid held the door as wide as her grin, her eyes danced between them. “Myah, don’t look now, but there’s a white man stealing your bags. Quick. Run inside, I’ll call the cops.”

“Ingrid!”

“Wha-at?”

Straight-faced Ingrid reached for Dylan while Myah turned to Keir to apologize. He eyed her sister with an uncertain squint on his face.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “You two are so stiff. Do you think you’re going to go through life not knowing you’re different colors?” She led the way to the living room and unzipped Dylan’s coat.

“Not a cool way to break the ice, sis.”

“Sure it is. Keir liked it.”

Her sneaky sister and boyfriend appraised each other and snickered. Myah rubbed her tired eyes and spent the next minute in introductions of her niece, nephew, and brother-in-law. Closing in on ten minutes, she dragged herself and Keir out of the comfy warmth to the light sprinkle of rain and gusty breeze.

“That was something else,” Keir stated after a minute in the car.

“She’s adopted.”

His lopsided grin evaporated her ire. He leaned over for a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry, I like ‘em.”

“Okay, not adopted, just dropped on her head as a weeee child.” Her horrible accent made him glance heavenward. “I have to try something since you won’t speak Welsh to me. I heard you all back there forgetting you were in mixed company.”

“We don’t know how to speak Welsh.”

“The accent, I mean.”

He turned on the headlights and wipers under the increased spatter of rain. His odd leer with a raised eyebrow caught her attention. “Didn’t I tell you, gal, you can’t handle this.”

She squealed at the thick lilt. He may have left as a child, but his father’s accent had been enough to keep him going. She fanned her face. “That’s all I need for now. Thank you.”

She snuggled into her seat, sore eyes and weary limbs, but held his hand strangling the gear shift. He really did know how to handle this car better than she. And he was a PTSD wreck. He should drop his doctor and find someone who could get the job done, unless, of course, this was the improved Keir.

“You don’t look alike.”

She glanced at him. “Who, Ingrid? Yeah. She got Mom’s face. You know, Dad was fifteen years older than my mother. Ingrid said they were great together. I would have liked to see that.” The increased drum of rain lulled her mind to wonder how things would have been if her birth mother were still alive. Would she even be in Chicago? Work at DRU-Med?

The heavy downpour plastered the windshield and soon she struggled to see the road. Keir cranked the defrost and fiddled with the wiper switch.

“What in the..?” The wipers turned off, then on, but he continued to turn the knob at the end of the lever. His face grew grim as he divided his attention between the road and studying the stick.

Um.

“Myah, where’s the wiper power?”

“Oops.”

“Oops? Oops, what?”

Not the best time to tell him. “I might have forgotten to mention that it doesn’t work. The intermittent wipe is as good as it gets.”

His head lifted and turned to her in agonized, slow disbelief. The good news was his fear seemed to have disappeared.

“Please don’t be upse—”

“Are you kidding me? Are you telling me you’re driving around in a deathtrap?”

“I only discovered it during the last thunderstorm. I don’t have enough to fix it. I—” Saying she didn’t have the time to fix it may get her kicked out of her own car.

He clenched his hair, then looked around. “I don’t believe this. You do know we’re in spring, right?”

She knew it was bad. Very bad. She’d barely made it home during the last heavy rain. This... She squinted out the windshield, couldn’t see a thing beyond a few yards, and Keir had already slowed the car to a crawl. If the high or medium wiper setting worked, they may have been all right on the local streets. No way would they venture onto the highway.

Keir edged to the right lane and took a bad turn into the parking lot of a strip plaza. They only knew they ended in a parking spot by the grassed median outside her door. He cut the engine and turned to her, threw up his hands while shaking his head. Words stuttered but didn’t come out.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. She turned away to watch the sheets of rain pummel the hood.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? And you knew about it.”

“All right, car police, I said I was sorry. I can’t get everything fixed at once. Financially, some things need to wait their turn.” She cinched her jacket tighter around her chest, folded her arms, and slumped to the side of her seat.

“I’ll take a look tomorrow.”

“No. I won’t take advantage of your expertise.”

Again, words sputtered. His incredulous face made her scowl. “That’s exactly what you should take advantage of. Honest, My. Money’s not worth this.”

After a stew of fifteen seconds, his sigh let her know he’d lost some of his edge.

“Let’s get out of here, it’s getting stuffy. There’s…ah…” He squinted out the fogged window. “I think there’s a restaurant here. We can have a tea while we wait for the rain to let up.”

A hot drink. Great. She’d given him a headache. The air had grown musty but she didn’t want to leave. “Does your head hur—?”

“Not the time, Myah.” His dead flat tone matched his irritated stare out the windshield. Thirty more seconds passed in silence until he finally released his seatbelt.

He hopped out of the car, and she watched horrified as he came round to her side instead of running for cover. She didn’t have time to grab the umbrella behind her seat before he opened her door.

They were drenched by the time they made it inside the mom-and-pop establishment.