He shifted slightly on the hospital bed, then hissed out a breath when the fire ripped through his body. Moving was never a good idea. Not at this stage. Not until he’d healed a little more. Which meant Shelby was totally on her own.
Before he could rail at the unfairness of the situation, his hospital door opened and an old lady stepped in. She was of average height, with white hair and blue eyes. She wore a jacket over dark pants and pearls around her neck. Pearls? In a hospital in New Zealand?
“Hello, Mr. Gilmore,” the woman said. “I’m Marsha Tilson.”
“I don’t give a shit who you are, lady. I’m not in the mood to give autographs, so get out of my room.”
Instead of leaving, or even seeming upset, the old woman pulled the visitor’s chair closer and sat down.
“How are you feeling?”
He raised his good arm and motioned to the pulleys and casts, the drip lines and the beeping monitor. “How do you think?”
Her expression turned knowing. “You’re not taking your pain medication. I understand why. I hope you understand your logic is flawed.”
She was American. Probably mid-sixties. With her lack of accent, he would put her from the West Coast, maybe. Or Nevada or Colorado. The one thing he was sure of was that he’d never seen her before.
“Get out,” he said, turning away from her. “Just get the hell out of my room.”
“I will. I promise. But first I need five minutes of your time.”
He sighed. What the hell. It wasn’t as if he had anything else going on today. He closed his eyes and hoped he could fall asleep while she talked.
“I’m the mayor of Fool’s Gold. That’s a town in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Our town is in California, not too far from Sacramento. We’re at twenty-five hundred feet, so we get all four seasons, but none of them are especially brutal. There’s good skiing up the mountain. Not that you’ll be doing that for a while.”
He turned back to face her and opened his eyes. “I really appreciate your support.”
She lightly touched the fingers sticking out of his cast. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gilmore, but we both know the truth. You’ll never ski professionally again. While that’s very sad, you did win two gold medals at the Olympics a few months ago, and over the years have won nearly every major event in your sport. So if you had to go out, better to do so on top.”
“Thanks for the tip,” he said. “I feel much better now.”
“You don’t, but you will.” She drew in a breath. “I’d like to offer you a job. Not now, of course. You have some healing to do. But later. We’re going to be starting a search and rescue group in Fool’s Gold. I’d like you to run it. You’ll be outdoors much of the time, yet connected to a community. The best of both worlds, so to speak.”
He pushed the button to raise his bed and ignored the white-hot pain that shot through him when he moved.
“Get out,” he told her. “I don’t know you and I sure as hell don’t want to talk to you about a job.”
“Mr. Gilmore,” she began, then paused. “Kipling. Our town is a unique place. Friendly, warm and we take care of our own. We always have. Maybe it’s our history, maybe it’s just dumb luck. Regardless of the reason, you would be safe there. More important, Shelby would be safe there.”
Kipling stared at her. “What do you know about my sister?” he asked, his voice a growl.
“I know that she loves her mother and that she’s having to deal with a father who enjoys hitting helpless women. I know you’re not scared for her. Because being scared doesn’t come close to describing what you’re feeling. You are terrified, and while you’re in this hospital you can’t help her. I, however, can.”
Kipling closed his eyes. What was happening? Was it real? Could he trust this old broad and how did she know about the situation with Shelby?
“I know a couple of people,” Marsha Tilson continued. “Gentlemen who have served our country with honor and distinction. I have already spoken with them and they are willing to take care of Shelby’s problem.”
He stared at her. “How?”
“Shelby’s mother doesn’t have much time. My friends will explain to your father that he needs to make his wife’s last weeks pleasant. They will make sure that Shelby is safe, and when her mother finally passes, they will assist with the details of the estate. Then they will bring her to Fool’s Gold, where she’ll be given a safe place to stay while she decides what to do with the rest of her life.”
“And my father?”
The old lady gave him a spooky smile. “We won’t break the law, Mr. Gilmore. But it’s possible your father will get a taste of his own medicine.”
“You keep Shelby safe and I’ll follow you to hell, Ms. Tilson.”
“Mayor Marsha, please. That’s what everyone calls me.” She rose and lightly touched his hand. “You don’t have to be alone in this, Kipling. Nor do you have to go all the way to hell. Just come to Fool’s Gold when you’re able. We’ll be waiting for you.”
She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to him. “My cell number is on the back. You can reach me anytime. Let me know when you’ve moved back to the States for your physical therapy and I’ll come visit. We’ll talk about the search and rescue team you’ll want to put together.”
He glanced from the business card back to her. “Is this for real? You’ll take care of my sister?”
“I will. You have my word. I’ve already called my friends and they’re on their way to see her right now. Once they arrive, your sister will never be alone with your father again, Kipling.”
She reached for the button on his morphine drip. “May I?” she asked.
He nodded.
She pressed the button. Seconds later the drug entered his system and the pain began to ease.
“Be well, Kipling,” she said. “When you’re ready, come to Fool’s Gold. I think you’re going to like it there.”
He nodded and she left. A few minutes later, one of the nurses came in.
“I saw you had a visitor,” she said with a grin. “Was that your granny? Oooh, what a handsome man she was with. A few years younger, judging by appearances. She’s, what, sixty? And he didn’t look a day over fifty. You have to respect that. He reminded me of that actor fellow. Now what was his name?”
The nurse kept up her cheerful chatter, but Kipling wasn’t listening. Instead he turned the business card over and over in his hand and hoped Mayor Marsha Tilson of Fool’s Gold had been telling the truth. That Shelby was safe and that his old man would get what was coming to him.
* * *
SAM CARRIED TWO suitcases to the car. While he was happy to get his house back to himself, he always felt a little sad when his parents left. Yes, they drove him crazy—but they were still family.
His mother was waiting for him when he returned to the house. She took both his hands in hers and smiled up at him.
“You’ve grown into quite the man,” she began.
He held in a groan. There was no telling where this was going. “It was great to see you, Mom. You and Dad. The lecture went well. I was proud of you.”
She studied him. “Were you? I sometimes wonder. I know...” She drew in a breath. “I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she told him.
He drew back his hands. “I know that.”
“Which is not the same as saying I don’t.”
“No.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Mom, you and Dad are great, but I don’t get how you can just talk about what you do and be the way you are in public.”
“I can see that. You’d never have sex onstage.”
“I wouldn’t even think about sex while onstage.”
“You’re missing out,” she began, then shook her head. “No, you’re not, are you?”
“Not as far as I can tell.” He searched for something supportive to say. “I know you help people with what you do. They’re grateful. And you do have a lot of information. I want to hear about your work, but I don’t want you going through my closet or telling me about how you and Dad did it last night.”
She nodded. “Last night was actually very traditional,” she began. “With your father on top and—”
“Mom!”
“I’m sorry.” She led him over to the sofa and urged him to sit, then she did the same and angled toward him. “Sam, I remember your first asthma attack. It was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen and I have to say it was still the worst experience of my life. Watching you unable to breathe, seeing you turn blue. I would have given my life for you.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. You and Dad.”
“We know. It’s just you were so sick for so long. And then when you started to outgrow your symptoms you wanted to test yourself. I was frightened.”
He wasn’t sure what this had to do with her sexual oversharing but he was willing to go with it.
“I worried. We both worried and yet we had to let you be. But in my heart, you were always that little boy, gasping for breath.”
“Mom,” he started, but she held up her hand.
“I don’t try to embarrass you on purpose,” she continued. “I’m open and excited to share every part of my life with the people I love. I want to know everything about you.”
Which would be the problem, he thought. “I’m not comfortable with that,” he told her.
“I know. I think I’ve always known, but as your mother, I thought I had special privileges.”
“You do.”
“Not in that way. I can demand your attention and tell you what to do, but in truth, you’re a grown man and I need to respect that. Your boundaries aren’t my boundaries, but they are still important. I’ll do better in the future. Change is never easy and old habits are very seductive. But I will do my best to remember that you don’t need me commenting on every aspect of your sex life, or even going through your closets. I want things to be different between us.”
He sighed, then pulled her close and hugged her. “Not too different,” he told her. “If you weren’t asking about my scrotum, you just wouldn’t be my mom.”
She laughed and hung on tight. “I’ll still ask. Just not so much and maybe not in a crowd.” She drew back. “You’re a very good man.”
“Thank you.” He stared into her eyes. “Dellina?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
But her gaze was shifting as she spoke and he could feel her starting to squirm. His mother was so honest, she had a horrible time lying, or even withholding the truth.
“You talked to someone and she’s the only one I can think who would take you on.”
“Fine. Dellina mentioned that I was driving you away. That I needed to respect you and pay more attention to your needs.” She waved a hand. “Some version of that. Don’t be mad at her. She’s got your back.”
“I know.”
Not many people were willing to say something like that—especially to Lark. But Dellina had. His friends hadn’t ever taken on Lark, mostly because they enjoyed the show. But Dellina had been worried about him. He liked that. He felt an odd tension inside his chest. Affection, he told himself. Gratitude. Nothing more.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I HAVE A PLAN,” Fayrene said.
Dellina dropped small faux makeup kits into bright pink goodie bags. She had a party for twelve nine-year-olds later in the week and wanted to get ahead of schedule by filling the bags now.
“I don’t want to hear it,” she told her sister.
“This time it’s different.”
“It’s not. You have some crazy idea to get Ryan to see that marriage is the only possible road to total happiness. Which very well may be true, but all these plans are nothing more than you being scared to tell him the truth.”
Fayrene put one hand on her hip. The other held a very relaxed Caramel, who snuggled against her. “You’re not very supportive.”
“I love you and I want you to be happy. I also know that in the end it all comes down to trusting the man you love. Just tell him you want to get married now. He adores you. Every day he doesn’t propose is proof of how much he cares. He’s doing what you asked. You’re making a big mistake trying to trick him into betraying his resolve.”
Fayrene’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. “I want him to propose.”
“He did. You asked him to wait. He’s not going to change his mind. Just admit what’s in your heart.”
Fayrene shook her head and flounced out.
Dellina waited until the front door slammed to continue filling goodie bags. But as she started to work again, she felt an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. Her weekend with Sam had been extraordinary. Being with him was fun and comfortable and exciting. Defining their relationship was impossible, yet she found herself wanting to do just that. Could she do it? Admit what was in her heart? Maybe the more pressing question was what, exactly, she thought her feelings might be.
* * *
SAM CONTINUED TO study the invoices in front of him. He’d asked Dellina for paperwork from all the suppliers, including the gifts purchased. He compared that to what she’d billed and found that was where the problem occurred. Despite their conversation on the topic, she was reluctant to bill more than what she’d estimated, even when the estimate was significantly less than the final cost. The times he’d changed his mind, switching items, she billed the correct amount, but when the item didn’t change but the final price was more, she absorbed the difference.