Читать книгу Navy SEAL Rescuer - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 12

THREE

Somehow, in the four hours since Catherine had dropped her grandmother off at the hospital, Eileen had faded, her bright orange hair muted, her skin sallow and yellowed. Head back against the waiting-room chair, eyes closed, mouth slack, she looked almost skeletal.

Catherine hurried across the room, touching her grandmother’s cool dry wrist, relieved to feel blood pulsing beneath the skin. “Eileen?”

“’Bout time you showed up.” Eileen’s eyes flew open, her sharp green gaze unchanged by her illness, her eyebrows and lashes sparse from chemotherapy. Looking into her face made Catherine sick with grief and fear. She didn’t let it show.

“I’m ten minutes early.”

“Then, why have I been waiting for a quarter of an hour?”

“You must have finished early.”

“Can’t see how that could have happened. I get the same amount of treatment every time. Unless they shorted me some this go-round. Maybe I need to track the nurse down and ask.”

“You know they wouldn’t do that,” Catherine said wearily.

“I suppose that I do, but chemo always makes me grumpy and waiting makes me grumpier. Let’s get out of here.” Eileen put a hand on both arms of the chair and pushed herself to standing. Upright, she looked even frailer, faded jeans hanging from narrow hips, her clavicle protruding from a sagging T-shirt. She started walking toward the exit, wobbling a little with every step, but Catherine didn’t bother to offer assistance. Eileen wouldn’t accept it.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Eileen,” she said, resisting the urge to put a hand on Eileen’s elbow and hold her steady.

“Yeah? So, spit it out.”

“I had some trouble with the car. I had to ask a neighbor for a ride.” She braced herself, knowing exactly what Eileen’s reaction would be.

“We don’t have a neighbor.”

“Sure we do. He bought the Morris property, remember?”

“Yeah. I remember, but I’ve never seen him, so I was wondering if he actually lived there. Is he cute?”

“Eileen, you are so predictable.”

“Well? Is he?”

“No.” He wasn’t cute. He was drop-dead gorgeous.

“Then why are your cheeks pink? And...what’s this?” Eileen touched the bruise on Catherine’s jaw, her eyes narrowing.

“We can talk about it at home. Darius is waiting at his truck, and I’m sure he has better things to do with his day than sit in a hospital parking lot.”

“I may be sick, but I’m not senile. You’re avoiding my question.”

“Just putting off the answer for a while.”

“Why?”

Because I don’t want you to worry.

Because I’m afraid stress will accelerate the course of your disease.

“Because this isn’t the place to discuss it. Half the people here know me, and I don’t want them going to the press.”

“They’re idiots, and all the press hounds are idiots, too.” Eileen scowled, shooting a hard glare at the guy who held the door open for them. A total stranger, but Eileen wasn’t picky about who she blamed for Catherine’s troubles.

The press.

The community.

The police.

The only people she didn’t blame were her church friends.

Blazing sun reflected off black asphalt as Catherine helped Eileen down the curb and into the parking lot. Darius stood a few yards away, leaning against his truck, a phone pressed to his ear. He smiled as they approached, shoving the phone into his pocket and offering Eileen his hand.

“You must be Eileen. I’m Darius Osborne.”

“Nice to meet you, Darius Osborne. I hear you gave my granddaughter some help this afternoon. Thank you for that.” Eileen clasped his hand and smiled sweetly.

Very un-Eileen like, but, then, Eileen had been on a matchmaking mission since Catherine’s release from prison.

“I was happy to help, Miz Eileen.” Darius opened the truck door, but Eileen held back.

“Doesn’t look like this truck has a backseat.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t.”

“Then, Catherine can get in first. I’ll get carsick if I don’t have a window seat.”

“Since when do you get carsick?” Catherine asked.

“Since I started getting chemo. Now, how about we stop discussing it and get out of here. I’m getting tired and feeling sick.” She knew how to get her way. Catherine would give her that.

“Fine.” Catherine climbed into the truck, ignoring a fancy sports car that slowly rolled by. Gawkers. She dealt with them every time she came to town.

“Give me a hand, will you? I’m not as spry as I used to be.” Eileen reached out, and Catherine clasped her hand as the sports car U-turned and headed back toward them.

She wanted to yank Eileen into the car, but was afraid she’d break brittle bone or tear tight tendons.

“Let me help.” Darius lifted Eileen easily, helping her into the seat and closing the door, sealing them in as he turned to face the approaching vehicle.

“Strong guy,” Eileen said.

Catherine ignored her, watching as the car slowed and a blond teenager stuck his head out the window.

“Murderer!” he shouted, his buddy laughing in the seat beside him.

This was why she hated coming to town, the staring, the whispers, the constant reminder of what people had said about her in the weeks and months following her arrest. What people were still saying.

“Go back to prison, witch!” he called again, and Darius shifted, pulling back his jacket and revealing a shoulder holster and gun. The teen’s mouth dropped open, his eyes widening as he jerked back, closed his window.

“That’s one way to get rid of them,” Eileen commented gleefully, but Catherine hadn’t enjoyed the show.

She’d been taunted before, targeted before, but she’d never felt as afraid as she did now. If she let herself, she could still feel hands around her throat, squeezing and choking.

She shivered.

“Ready?” Darius asked as he got behind the wheel.

“Whenever you are, doll,” Eileen responded, and Darius smiled.

“You’re my kind of gal, Miz Eileen.”

“If only I were four decades younger.” She sighed, and his laughter filled the truck, rumbling through Catherine as she sat tense and stiff between the two.

She wanted to relax. She really did, but she was pressed leg to leg, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder with a guy who carried a gun and looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Where are you from, Darius? You didn’t just suddenly appear in the old Morris place, I know that.” Eileen leaned past Catherine to study Darius more thoroughly. Probably sizing him up as grandson-in-law material.

“Born and raised in South Carolina, ma’am.”

“You’re far from home.”

“I did a stint in the navy. Came back stateside a few years ago. My job brought me here.”

“You with the police?”

“I’m a security contractor.”

“A bodyguard?”

“If you want.” He shrugged, his shoulder rubbing against Catherine’s. She wanted to lean away, but that would only call attention to her discomfort.

“What about your parents? They still in South Carolina?”

“My father has never been in the picture. My mother passed away eighteen years ago.”

“Sorry to hear that, son. It’s hard to lose a parent. Catherine knows all about that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Eileen elbowed her, but Catherine didn’t plan to offer details.

“Catherine was five when her parents passed. How about you, Darius?”

“I was fourteen.”

“That makes you what? Thirty-two or -three?”

“Eileen, stop.”

“He’s our neighbor. I’m trying to get to know him.”

“You’re giving him the third degree, and I want you to cut it out.”

“I don’t mind. Like your grandmother said, we’re neighbors,” Darius cut into the argument. Neither woman looked like she was up to a verbal dispute. Eileen’s sallow complexion and frailty tugged at his heart, reminding him of the way his mother had looked at the end of her illness, but Catherine worried him more. Pale skin, pale lips, dark circles beneath her eyes, she looked worn and overwhelmed.

“She still shouldn’t be giving you the third degree,” Catherine muttered, and Eileen huffed.

“I’ll do what I want to do. At my age, I’ve earned the right.”

“Fine. Do what you want. Just leave me out of your matchmaking schemes.”

Catherine’s bluntness made Darius smile. Melody had always been sweet and ingratiating, almost too eager to agree with other people. He frowned, not sure why he was thinking about his ex-fiancée. She was four years in the past, and he’d stopped mourning what they might have had a long time ago.

“You can’t blame your old gran for wanting to see you with someone before she dies.”

“Don’t talk like that, Eileen.” Catherine sighed, patting her grandmother’s knee.

“You don’t want to talk about that, then let’s talk about you and those bruises you have on your face and neck.”

“I told you—”

“We’d talk at home, but you know what’s going to happen when we get home. Same thing that happens every time I have chemo. I’m going to climb in bed, and I’m going to sleep for the rest of the day. You’re hoping by the time I wake up, I’ll have forgotten, and maybe I will have, so let’s talk about it now.”

“Eileen—”

“You know, don’t you, Darius Osborne?” Eileen turned her attention to Darius, and he felt like a kid in the principal’s office.

“It’s Catherine’s story to tell, Miz Eileen.”

“Well, she’s not telling, so you may as well.”

“I wasn’t telling because it’s not a big deal, but if you’re going to keep pushing, then I guess I don’t have a choice. Some kid came by the house, trying to scare me. He got a little carried away.” Catherine touched her neck, and Darius was sure she didn’t believe that any more than he did. A little carried away didn’t result in welts and bruises.

“Did you call the sheriff?”

“Of course.”

“And he’s looking for this kid?” Eileen asked.

“Yes, they even brought out a K-9 unit,” Catherine offered quickly.

“Hopefully, that will be enough, because I can tell you right now, Catherine Marie, I’m not happy about this. You’re out there at that old house by yourself way too much. What if he comes back and gets a lot carried away?”

“No worries. I work for a company that’s ready to install a security system. We just need to get the word from you and Catherine,” Darius cut in.

“You work for a security company?”

“Yes, and my boss is at your place now. By the time we get back, he should have a quote ready for you.”

“No quote necessary. You go ahead and tell your boss to get started,” Eileen said, and Catherine stiffened.

“We need to get a couple of quotes before we decide.”

“Why? So we can spend two or three weeks making a decision?”

“So that we can make an informed one.”

“Like we made about central air? We still don’t have that, by the way.”

“Eileen—”

“I’m dying, Catherine. I want to be comfortable in my home while I do it.”

“You’re not dying,” she responded, a catch in her voice.

“I’m dying, but maybe not for a while. I still want the air-conditioning, though.”

“Fine. We’ll get that, and we’ll put in a security system. Happy now?” Catherine sounded anything but happy, and Darius wanted to tell her that it was better to be safe than sorry, better to be overprepared than under. He figured she knew it though, and he kept silent.

“Very. Now, let me be. I’m exhausted.” Eileen settled back into her seat and into silence, and Catherine fell silent, too. Darius could feel her tension, though. It radiated out, swirling through the cab until the air was thick with it.

Sweat beaded her brow, her breathing was hitched and uneven, her fist white-knuckle tight.

“Are you okay?” he asked, but she didn’t respond, just stared straight ahead, her body so taut he thought she might break.

He pulled into the breakdown lane, letting the truck idle as he shifted, looked into her pale face. He recognized a panic attack when he saw one. He’d had plenty of them in the first year after he’d returned from the war. “Take a deep breath.”

“I’m fine.” But she inhaled deeply, her body shaking with the emotions she’d been holding in. As aloof as she seemed, she wasn’t unaffected. Not by her grandmother’s illness and not by the attack.

“Would it help if I let you drive?”

“I don’t know.” She inhaled again, and he got out of the truck, gestured for her to do the same.

“Let’s give it a try, okay?”

She nodded, sliding across the seat and nearly tumbling out onto the pavement. He caught her, his arms latching onto a slim, firm waist. Heat seeped into his palms, searing through him so unexpectedly he almost released his hold before she caught her balance.

“Thanks. I’m fine now.” She stepped away, and he climbed back into the truck, Eileen’s soft snores filling his ears as Catherine got behind the wheel and put the truck into Drive.

Seconds later, they were moving again, Eileen still snoring softly. He took off his jacket and tucked it around her frail body.

“Thanks for that,” Catherine said softly, her gaze straight ahead.

“You love her a lot.”

“She raised me. She’s as close to a mother as I remember having.”

“Then, you’ll do what’s best for her.”

“You’re talking about the security system again.”

“Yes. I noticed you said you’d have a security system installed. You didn’t say that you’d have it installed today.”

“You’re very persistent, Darius.”

“Only when I have to be.”

And right now, he had to be.

No matter what Catherine wanted to believe, no matter how she felt, she and Eileen needed security at the old farmhouse. He was going to make sure they got it, then he was going to go back to his vacation, back to his empty house that desperately needed renovation and back to being alone.