Jane knew something was different before she’d even opened her eyes, but it wasn’t until she felt the soft rise and fall of Henry’s chest against her back that she remembered. She smiled into her pillow and reached down to hold his hand in hers. It had been too long since anyone had held her through the night, and she suddenly realized with terrifying clarity just what she had been missing.
A little voice called out from down the hall, and Jane quickly pulled herself from Henry’s grip, hating to part with the warm covers and the heat from his skin. She took her robe from the hook on the back of her bedroom door and belted it tight at her waist. She looked down to see the soft ivory flannel grazing her ankles, and cringed. This wasn’t exactly a sexy little number—unless you were living in a nursing home. She hurried to her dresser as she heard the sounds of Sophie’s bed covers rustling down the hall and fumbled through her drawers until she found a basic black pair of pajama pants and a slinky long-sleeved T-shirt.
She gathered the robe in her hands, vowing to toss it in the trash immediately and stop buying that kind of junk, stop giving into the defeatist urge, and the strange way her eye always roved to the softest, most man-repellent loungewear available.
She was too young for this.
“What’s that blanket in your arms?” Henry mumbled, lazily grinning from the pillow.
Jane glanced down at the enormous ball of plush ivory fabric in her arms. It wasn’t even flannel, was it? It was more like an unraveled stuffed animal. “Oh. My, um, grandmother’s robe, actually. I was just clearing out the closet and found it.”
“You were just clearing out the closet?” Henry’s grin turned wicked as he became more alert.
“Oh, I… like to get a head start in the mornings, and I was hoping to drop some stuff off at the Goodwill today,” she said lamely.
Henry seemed to buy this, but only for a second. “Wasn’t that the robe you had hanging on the back of your door?”
Jane felt her face grow hot but then she noticed he was chuckling. “Take off those pajamas and get under the covers with me,” he said in a husky voice. “I don’t like waking up alone.”
This surprised Jane, but she came over to the bed anyway. “But you’re alone all the time for work,” she began, and then stopped right there. It hadn’t even occurred to her, but of course. Henry was handsome, available, and not one to be tied down to one place. Or one person. He might be alone, but who said he slept alone?
“I’m alone too much. Being here with you reminds me of that.” He propped himself on one elbow and reached up to brush her loose hair from her neck. Leaning forward, his lips met hers and Jane felt every nerve in her body melt. She closed her eyes, sinking into the kiss, until the little voice shouted again from down the hall.
She pulled back and gave an apologetic smile. “Sophie’s awake.”
Henry groaned, but reached for his T-shirt. Jane watched as he shrugged it on, pulling it over the curves of his biceps and the contours of his smooth chest. Was it wrong to wish that this had been Adam’s weekend to have Sophie? Very, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She loved her child with all her heart, but her sisters were right. She needed a little romance in her life. Maybe she’d finally found it.
She frowned when she thought about Henry’s job, the travel, and his extreme opinions on Briar Creek. If he hadn’t even stuck around for Ivy, what made her think he would stick around for her?
Her spirits were just beginning to deflate when Henry crossed the room and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her in one smooth movement against the wall of his chest. She pressed her lips against his warm mouth as he kissed her, softly, but purposefully, and then just as quickly released her. His breath was heavy as he gazed down at her, and his dimple quirked when he grinned.
Sophie called out again. Jane pulled in a long breath. Duty called.
Jane stepped into the hall and frowned. Sophie’s door at the end of the hall was ajar, but her daughter’s cry was coming from the base of the stairs.
“Sophie?” She hurried down the steps to find Sophie at the front door, pointing through the windows that flanked either side of it.
“There’s someone at the door. Didn’t you hear?”
Jane checked her watch. Half past eight. They’d overslept, but who would be here at this hour without calling first? She hurried to the door, craning her neck to see what appeared to be a woman on the stoop, and unlocked the deadbolt. Her breath stopped when she came face-to-face with Joyce Benson. The guardian ad litem.
“Ms. Benson,” she said in what she hoped was a pleasant tone, even though her heart was pounding. “I’m sorry, but I thought our appointment wasn’t until ten.”
“Is there a problem?” The woman narrowed her eyes in suspicion, and Jane shook her head quickly.
“Of course not,” she replied with a nervous smile. She opened the door wider, feeling her pulse rush in her ears. “I’m afraid you’ve caught us in our pajamas. We slept in longer than usual this morning.”
“Oh? I saw a car in your driveway. Do you have a guest?”
Jane blinked at the other woman, trying to figure out how best to answer that question, and what excuse she could make for Henry being here. If she was quick, she might be able to run upstairs under the pretense of getting dressed and tell him to hide in the closet. But that wouldn’t explain the car. Or the man’s coat hanging on the rack for all to see.
“A friend,” she said hurriedly, sure to give a breezy smile. “Just a friend.”
But Ms. Benson’s attention had already strayed. She looked beyond Sophie and Jane to the stairs, her eyebrows arching with what appeared to be overt interest.
Jane cursed inwardly as she turned to face Henry. “Oh, Henry. This is Ms. Benson. The court sent her to meet with Sophie. Ms. Benson, this is our houseguest, Henry Birch.”
Henry came around and stuck his hand out, and Ms. Benson took it gingerly, her beady eyes homing in on him with growing suspicion.
“Would you like some coffee?” Jane asked desperately. “I’ll go make some.”
Not waiting for their response, she hurried to the back of the house and pulled open a cabinet, but she was shaking so hard she was struggling to think straight. Sophie liked cereal in the mornings, but of course they were out. Suddenly she felt panicked. What if Ms. Benson based her judgment on how nutritious Sophie’s breakfast was? She should give her homemade oatmeal with fresh fruit, but then Sophie would no doubt announce she never ate this and didn’t like it, and oh, wouldn’t that be a mark against her?
What was she worrying about? Jane had one thing and one thing only to worry about and it wasn’t what Sophie did or didn’t eat for breakfast. It was what Henry was doing here for the meal.
She popped a frozen waffle into the toaster and hurried back into the hall, where Ms. Benson was deep in a low conversation with Henry. Jane became aware that she was gritting her teeth so hard her jaw was beginning to ache, and she tried to relax her smile. It was no use.
“I was just telling Ms. Benson about my sister,” Henry offered. Turning back to the court-appointed mediator, he said, “Jane was kind enough to ride in the ambulance with her.”
“And after that you decided to stop by and spend the night?” Ms. Benson pulled out a small notebook and jotted something down.
Jane’s pulse prickled. “Henry’s an old friend,” she explained. “I’ve known him for most of my life, and he’s in town for a while.”
“Oh.” Ms. Benson nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. “So you’re staying here while you’re visiting then?”
Henry glanced at Jane. “I’m… staying at the hotel in town.” His jaw twitched.
Ms. Benson’s beady eyes narrowed. “I see.” She scribbled something in the notebook and turned to Jane. “And may as I ask if you and Mr. Birch have a romantic relationship?”
Jane knew there was no point in lying. “We’re old friends, and we have been spending a bit of time together while Henry is in town.”
“And has any of that time involved Sophie?”
Jane resisted the urge to fold her arms across her chest. “We’ve been helping Henry with an assignment he’s writing on Briar Creek.”
“And does Sophie enjoy her time with Mr. Birch?”
Jane felt her heart warm when she pictured Sophie at the dinner table, pealing in laughter at the stories Henry told. “She does,” she said firmly.
“So it’s fair to say that she will miss you quite a bit when you leave town again,” Ms. Benson remarked, turning back to Henry.
Jane felt herself blanch. No, no, this couldn’t be happening. Her words were being twisted. Something positive and meaningful was being taken out of context.
“Sophie’s really enjoying her time with Henry, but I think she understands—”
“Oh, you’d be surprised, Ms. Madison.” Ms. Benson gave a condescending smile. “Children hold a lot of emotions inside, especially those who have already lived through so much recent change.”
Jane opened her mouth to list all the ways she had tried to not disrupt her daughter’s life—all the ways she had tried to keep it exactly as it always had been, right down to clinging to a loveless marriage for far too long. She stopped herself. Rattling it all off would only make her look defensive, or worse.
She glanced at Henry. Henry who had made no promises to her. Henry who was hell-bent on leaving this town as soon as he could. Henry, who had told her over and over that he wasn’t looking for marriage again.
“Well, let me have a chat with Sophie,” Ms. Benson said. “Go ahead about your day like I’m not here,” she added, giving a suggestive glance in Henry’s direction.
Henry waited until she was out of earshot and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Jane was blinking back tears, shaking so hard she could barely even form a complete thought. Only one thought kept playing over and over.
She might really lose her daughter. And she would have no way of getting her back.
The color had returned to Ivy’s cheeks when Henry poked his head into her hospital room. She beamed at him from the stack of pillows supporting her head, but the smile slipped when she caught his expression.
“Stop looking at me like that. I’m fine.”
Henry didn’t have the heart to tell her that for once, he was worried about more than her. His stomach stirred with fresh guilt as his anxiety kicked up a notch. He’d told himself to stay away from Jane, to keep his distance and let her be, and he hadn’t listened to himself. He’d given in, and now Jane was paying the ultimate price.
Her life was complicated enough without him making it worse.
He dragged a hand over his face and entered the sunny room. Someone—presumably a nurse—had pulled back the curtains to reveal a sweeping view of the Berkshires, bursting with fall colors. Soon the leaves would be gone and ski season would start. People always got a laugh when he told them he’d grown up in Vermont and didn’t know how to ski.
If he stuck around he’d like to learn…
He jolted. Staying had never been part of the plan. Any more than getting involved with Jane Madison had been.
“The nurse came in a few minutes ago with discharge papers,” Ivy said as Henry sat down on the visitor chair near the far wall. His sister eyed him warily. “I know what you’re going to say and… don’t.”
Despite his mood, he couldn’t help but smile. “And what is it I’m going to say?”
“That I work too hard, that I don’t take care of myself, that I need to stop and eat—properly—and that I shouldn’t have had that extra glass of Champagne yesterday and I shouldn’t have skipped my insulin, either.”
Henry tried to keep his expression neutral, but his mind was beginning to race. “My God, Ivy, this has got to stop! Do I have to come over and administer the injections myself like I did when we were children?”
“I knew you’d be mad,” Ivy said, narrowing her eyes.
“Damn straight I’m mad. You have me worried sick! How the hell am I supposed to leave town if I can’t be sure you’re taking care of yourself?”
Ivy shrugged. “Maybe you shouldn’t leave then.”
Henry flashed her a dangerous look. “Don’t say that. Don’t say this is all some cry for attention.”
“Of course not.” Ivy sighed. “What do you think I am, stupid?”
Henry was about to say that, yes, she had been behaving stupidly, recklessly, really, but Ivy continued. “I have to make some changes. Big ones. I don’t know how I’ll manage, but I don’t have a choice.”
Henry nodded once. “I’ve arranged for part-time help starting tomorrow.” Something told him Jane wasn’t just being altruistic in her services, meaning she would hopefully carry through with her word despite the unexpected turn in the day.
He clenched his jaw. Jane always carried through with her promises. It was a hell of a lot more than he could say for himself.
Henry leaned forward on his elbows and massaged the gap between his eyebrows with his fingers. He’d call her tonight. He’d end it now, before more damage was done. If it wasn’t too late.
“Who did you hire?” Ivy asked, tossing the hospital blanket off her legs.
“Jane Madison offered,” he said briskly, refusing to mention when or where this discussion occurred.
Ivy’s expression turned curious. “She was in the store the other day offering to help… but something told me she was really hinting about a job. Ah, well, see? Something good came from this mess.”
“I’ll be paying her until the house sells,” Henry said in a voice that he knew Ivy wouldn’t argue with. “I want to do it. Please just let me.”
Ivy stared at him and then gave a resigned nod. Henry sat back in his chair, feeling slightly better. If what Ivy said was true, then by covering Jane’s salary he was helping both women.
The nurse came into the room pushing an empty wheelchair and took the signed discharge papers from Ivy. “You’re all set to go. We recommend a follow-up appointment with your regular doctor tomorrow.”
“Oh, but I work—”
“I’ll take her,” Henry promised, nailing Ivy with a hard look as he helped her into the wheelchair.
They left the room in silence and stayed that way as Henry pushed his sister to the hospital lobby. “Wait here while I bring the car around,” he instructed before jogging out into the cold morning air. He was relieved when she didn’t try to resist, and when he spotted her through the window a few minutes later, still dutifully sitting in the wheelchair. Henry helped Ivy into the car, ignoring her protests and sighs, and then slammed his own door shut. He slid the key into the ignition but didn’t turn it. Something was weighing on him, and he couldn’t proceed until it was off his chest.
He turned to his sister. “How do I know this isn’t going to happen anymore?”
A look of guilt took over her soft features. “It won’t. I know I said that before, but… this was my wake-up call. I ruined my best friend’s bridal shower—I hate to think of other events ending the same way. It reminds me of…” She trailed off and looked away from him, hiding her face behind a curtain of auburn hair. “It reminds me of Mom. I don’t want to be like her,” she said, starting to cry.
Henry closed his eyes and then reached over to set a hand on her arm. “You’re not like Mom. You have an illness. Maybe she did, too, but she didn’t take control of it. You can.”
Ivy nodded, but refused to meet his eye. “It’s the gossip. The attention. The way people will talk.” She suddenly turned to him, her eyes desperate and wet with tears. “I tried so hard to avoid that all my life and now, it’s happened.”
“And it will soon be forgotten. Trust me. Everyone has enough crap in their own lives to deal with.” He offered her a small smile. “Now, if you started passing out at every social event…”
She swatted his arm and then, unexpectedly, leaned over and gave him a hug. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said quietly, pulling back.
Henry started the engine and kept his eyes straight ahead. The way he’d trained himself to many, many years ago.