8

Elliott glanced over his shoulder. “Shana!” he yelled. He shook Grace again, in a desperate attempt to rouse her, fighting the memories of the last time he’d found someone in this state. Then he’d been twelve. Fear knotted his stomach. Panic flooded his veins. No one else was going to die like this. Not if he had anything to do with it. “Hey, come on, I need you to open your eyes for me, Grace.”

Grace moaned and her eyelids fluttered.

Elliott shook her harder. At least she’d responded. “Come on, time to wake up.”

Her eyes opened and struggled to focus. “Elliott?”

“Yes, it’s me. How many did you take?”

“Huh?”

“The pills,” he repeated. “How many did you take?”

“I don’t have any pills. I need something for my head, but...don’t think I took…” Her words slurred and he struggled to hear what she said. She pushed up, color draining from her face. “How’d you get in?”

“I broke in. It’s almost ten. Shana and Mandy were on the doorstep when I came over with coffee.” He frowned as her pale skin turned pasty. “You OK?”

She shook her head, twisting as she threw up.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Don’t…” she gasped.

“No choice. Pills that aren’t yours, an empty wine bottle and throwing up.”

“My bed…” She clasped her head. Her eyes closed.

Elliott caught her and laid her on the floor. He checked for a pulse, whispering a prayer of thanks as he found a strong one.

Shana appeared. “Did you find—what happened? Is she OK?”

“No, she isn’t. I’m calling an ambulance. Can you and Mandy manage here today?”

“Sure. I’ll send the paramedics up when they get here.”

“Thanks.” Elliott picked up his phone and dialed.

~*~

Grace pushed the doctor’s hand away. Her head still pounded and the light shining in her eyes just made it worse. Her throat hurt from where she’d thrown up. At least they weren’t going to keep her in, or refer her to the psych tank.

“Please don’t,” she managed. Speaking caused ripples of agony to shoot down her throat. “It’s just a migraine. I lost my meds. Otherwise, I’d have taken the wretched pills days ago. And I don’t have a GP here, yet.”

“What do you normally take? I’ll get some and write you a script.”

She named the medicine, adding, “Nothing else works.”

The doctor wrote on the chart. “I’ll send the nurse in with some.”

“Thank you.” She leaned back on the pillows as the doctor left. She could hear the sounds of the busy emergency department. All she wanted was sleep and someplace very dark and very quiet. Neither of which she’d get here.

Elliott poked his head around the curtain. “May I come in?”

Grace pushed down her irritation. “You’re still here?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Well, don’t,” she snapped. “According to you I’m a homeless, alcoholic, junkie loser.”

Elliott crossed over to the bed. “Now, stop that. I know you didn’t drink anything last night because you didn’t smell of it. The doc said you didn’t take any of the pills either. I was wrong to think you had and I’m sorry. I found you surrounded by pills, the empty bottle in your hand and assumed…” He paused. “I’m really sorry.”

She rubbed her temples. A man who apologized couldn’t be all bad. Even if he had inadvertently caused her the worst few hours she’d had in several years. She swallowed gingerly. “I found the wine, threw it away. I lost my balance when I was looking for pain killers. I found those pills in the bathroom. But I didn’t take any. However I guess the loser, homeless bit still stands…”

He dropped into the chair next to her. “Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself?”

“I left my job because I couldn’t hack it, OK? This was just a convenient excuse to go on leave. They’d probably have fired me otherwise. Now, I’ve put every penny I have into that house and the shop. If that shop doesn’t break even, I can’t afford to keep it running next month. As it is, I’m not paying myself a proper wage. I just pay myself enough to cover expenses.” Her voice squeaked and grated and she grasped her neck, trying to ease the pain from the outside. “The uniforms, signage and so on are just a waste. I can’t afford a new house, too.”

Elliott shook his head. “Just take a deep breath for me and stop a second.”

Grace did so, looking at him.

“OK. The rebuild isn’t going to cost you a penny. The insurance will cover everything. Including the fixtures and fittings. So right now, the only outgoing you have is the shop, right?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“OK. Now, which distributor do you use to supply the shop?”

“Can’t remember.”

The nurse came in. “Here you go.” She held out a cup with two pills in and a sealed bag. “The doctor says you can go once you’ve taken these. You need to see your GP in two days for a follow up.”

Grace took the meds. “OK.”

Elliott frowned. “She can go?”

The nurse checked the chart. “Yes. Take care, Miss Chadwick.”

“It’s a migraine,” Grace whispered as the nurse left. “Started Sunday. I get them occasionally, but this one is stress related. Thing is I lost the meds with the house and everything else. And I don’t have a GP yet.”

“I’ll give you the number of mine. Once you’re dressed you’re coming back to my house,” he said firmly.

“I can’t. I’ve taken up enough of your time. Why did you ask about my supplier?”

“A couple from church runs a flower distribution center a few miles outside of town. I’m sure they’d be more than happy to supply your shop at a reasonable rate. I’ll get you their number.”

“OK, thank you.” She rubbed her head. “I need to sleep.”

“You can do that when we get to my place.”

“I can’t do that.”

“It’s not up for debate. You need rest and quiet and you won’t get that over the shop. You’ll be down every few minutes to see what they’re doing. Joel’s working, so you won’t be alone, but you won’t know he’s there. You can have the couch. I’ll let you dress.”

Grace sighed as he left. Why was he being so caring?

She had to admit he was right about one thing. If she were in the flat, she wouldn’t rest. And while it was only his couch, nothing more, Joel would be there, too. Perhaps it’d be safe. Trust had to start somewhere, right?

~*~

Elliott let himself in just after seven. He’d finished work a lot later than usual, but wanted to make up some of the time he’d lost today. No point being the boss if he didn’t set a good example, was there? He hung up his jacket and toed off his shoes. The house smelled of fish. At least he didn’t have to cook.

He slid his feet into slippers and padded down the hallway to the kitchen.

Joel smiled as he opened the door. “Hey, El. How was your day?”

“Had better. How’s Grace?”

“Still sleeping. She hasn’t stirred since she laid down. Whatever the doc gave her did the trick.”

“Just her normal meds, I think.” He took the plate from Joel and shoved it into the microwave. “Thanks for cooking and watching her.”

“Least I can do.” He leaned against the dresser. “Are you really all right?”

Elliott closed his eyes, seeing Grace lying on the floor, then the other image replacing it. He wouldn’t lie anyway, but there would be no point lying to Joel. His twin knew him almost better than he knew himself. “I saw her lying there and it brought it all flooding back. I thought…” His voice cracked, before he pulled his emotions back under control. “Sorry.”

Joel hugged him. “Don’t apologize, El. You were only twelve when you found Mum. There was nothing you could have done. No one blamed you. Not then and not now.”

Elliott still struggled with the guilt, although he wouldn’t admit that to anyone, not even his twin. “At least Grace is all right.”

“You really like her. So, have you told her how you feel?”

“No, and I’m not going to either.”

“Why not?” Joel shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the one who’s divorced and you’re asking me?”

“Don’t let my failed marriage put you off women.”

“Joel, I watched Caroline destroy you little by little, and you just expect me to open myself up to the same kind of hurt?” He shook his head and took the plate out of the microwave.

“No, El. I expect you to let God give you the kind of life He wants for you. Not to run scared and hide.”

Elliott opened the drawer and picked up a fork. He perched on the stool at the table. “I am not hiding.”

“Of course you’re not. When was the last time you dated a woman?”

Elliott bowed his head while he said grace. He took a mouthful of dinner before answering. “No idea.”

Joel smirked. “You need to get out there and live, El.”

“You can talk. You haven’t dated anyone since your divorce was finalized—years ago.” He took another bite and changed the subject. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And think about it, please.”

“Marriage?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, dating. Join an agency or pick some random woman off the street or from the church directory. Just don’t give up.”

“I’ll think about it.” He took another bite, too hungry to discuss his love life, or the lack thereof. The problem was he had come to care for Grace, far more than he was comfortable with and way more than he was ready for or prepared to admit to anyone.

“Hi.” A quiet voice came from the doorway.

He turned and smiled. “Hello, you feeling better?”

“A little.”

“Come and sit.”

Grace slowly crossed the room and sat beside him.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Joel asked. “I saved you some fish if you fancy it.”

She shook her head. “Just water, please.”

The phone in the hall rang, and Joel went to answer it.

“You should at least have juice,” Elliott said. “How long has it been since you ate or drank anything?”

Her face creased in thought. “Last night.”

Elliott stood. “Then you need to eat. I’ll make you some tea and toast.”

“Don’t let yours get cold. When you’re finished is fine.”

He sat again. “OK.”

She rubbed her temples and pushed back against the wall. “I’m sorry for worrying you and the others. I didn’t mean to. I felt so awful—just wanted something to take away the pain, but stupidly lost my balance and knocked my head on something before I could take one of Aunt Tilja’s pills.”

“You should never take someone else’s medication,” he chided gently. “How often do you get migraines?”

“Too often. Normally I take the meds as soon as I get the aura and then go to bed. But that wasn’t possible this time. And, Aunt Tilja and I had the same migraine medicine. I just hoped...”

“I’ll make you an appointment to see my GP, get you set up with more meds. His name is Jackson Parker. You’ll like him. He also goes to our church.”

Grace gave him the look he’d come to know so well. Her do-you-have-to-keep-bringing-church-into-the-conversation look. “Thank you.”

He rose to make her toast. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

“I can’t. The shop…”

“The shop is fine. I checked this afternoon. Shana locked up and she’s opening tomorrow. She and Mandy have everything covered.” He looked at her. “Next argument?”

“It wouldn’t be right,” she whispered.

“What wouldn’t be right?” Joel asked, coming back into the room.

“I told Grace she needed to sleep here tonight,” Elliott said. “She shouldn’t be on her own in case she passes out again.”

Joel nodded. “It’s a good plan, and I promise I’ll protect you from any wicked scheme my twin brother may have.”

Elliott groaned. “That isn’t going to help, you brat.”

Joel grinned. “Takes one to know one. And that was Guy on the phone. He’s had a look at the laptop, and it’s fixable, despite the mug of coffee spilled on it. He’ll have it done by Friday.”

“Oh, thank you,” Grace said. “How much will it be?”

“He said no more than thirty quid, maybe not even that much. And he says the files are salvageable, too. So no harm done, really.”

Elliott looked at Grace, pulling the conversation back to her staying the night. “You can have the couch. I would offer you my bed, and I’ll have the couch, but you’d only say no and run a mile.”

She rubbed her head. “I need to sleep, but I can’t…”

He brought over a mug of tea and plate of toast. “Yes, you can, soon as you’ve eaten this. I promise, you’ll be perfectly safe and besides, you can’t get in the flat ’til Shana comes back with the keys in the morning.”

She sighed in defeat. “OK. The couch it is.”