A Home by the Sea (17 page)

Grace knew the feeling. Anyone who had knitted for any length of time knew the feeling. Knitting soaked up anxiety like a magic sponge. Even watching Caro knit made Grace more relaxed.

“So what's happened with that big project you were working on in D.C.? Wasn't it a digital reference, something very high profile? You never did give me the details.”

Grace forced a smile. “It went to someone else. Probably just as well. Between my grandfather and the café, I'm going to have every minute taken.” She ignored a quick stab of regret. This was the right thing to do, she thought.

Caro pulled out a new ball of yarn, looking
thoughtful. “And what about your mystery man with the roses? He sounds nice.”

“Jilly told you?”

Caro nodded serenely. “I wormed every detail out of her, right down to the phone sex.”

“There
wasn't
any phone sex. We're just—oh, I don't know
what
we are. We're both busy and then I had to leave before we could work things out.”

“But you're going to see him again, aren't you? Why don't you invite him to visit?”

“One day at a time, remember? I don't have much free time at the moment. And don't you and Jilly go into matchmaker mode on me.”

“I wouldn't dream of it. You're quite capable of making your own decisions. In fact, you're the most calm and sensible person that I know.”

The conversation moved on to generalities. Through it all, Caro knitted on. She finished her glove and then pulled out a new workbag.

“What are you making?”

Caro held up her next project, intricate panels of ribbing and seed stitch and cables. “It's going to be a blanket for the sofa, and I'm making it big enough for the three of us. Me, Gage and the baby.” She smoothed the soft teal wool between her fingers. “It matches the wallpaper Gage and I picked out.” Caro looked up, smiling as footsteps crossed the back kitchen.

Caro put down her knitting as her husband and
the electrician walked in. Both of them were dusty, and Gage had an oil streak down one cheek.

They looked exceedingly pleased with themselves, Grace thought.

“There was an exposed line near the sidewalk. Lots of faulty wiring, too. We took care of it.” Gage held up a knotted piece of wire, frowning. “Drew wants to show me a new breaker box in his workshop. It could help get you by here until all the wiring can be updated. But if you want me to stay—”

Caro laughed. “Go check out your breakers. And when you're done, maybe you and I can drive Grace to the hospital to see her grandfather.”

“Absolutely.” Gage nodded, but it was clear he was already thinking about wiring and fuse boxes.

Men,
Grace thought. She looked down as her cell phone rang. It was a local area code, but not a number she recognized. “Hello?”

“Ms. Lindstrom? This is Woodvale Hospital calling.”

Her fingers tightened. “Yes, this is Grace Lindstrom.” Grace tried to prepare for what would follow next.

“Ms. Lindstrom, I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

There was a rustling on the line. And then Grace heard the deep, familiar voice.

Not so strong now. Not nearly as decisive as she had always remembered.

Now he was slow, hoarse, every word rough with pain. “Grace.” Peter Lindstrom took a long breath. “Honey, I—I'm sorry about the problems I'm causing. I don't want to bother anyone.” He gave a shaky cough. “I…I remember you were there at the hospital. I didn't recognize you. But now my head hurts and everything is strange here. I need to g-go home. Will you come and get me?”

P
ETER
L
INDSTROM WAS
awake but agitated when Grace reached his room.

“Grace?” The old man's voice broke. “I'm all confused. You were gone. I remember it was in a big city. Not New York.” Panic tightened his face. “Where were you? You're always going somewhere.”

“Washington, D.C., Granddad. I came straight here as soon as I heard.” She set down her purse and placed a covered cup on his rolling table. “Janie at the ice-cream shop was open early to make some repairs. She remembered how much you like their—”

“Pineapple sherbet!” The vet's eyes lit up as he inhaled the tropical scent. Then his delight faded. But I'm in the hospital, Grace. This morning they wouldn't let me have coffee or real tea. The herbal thing wasn't bad but I always have coffee or real tea. I probably can't have sweets.”

“It's all right. Your doctor approved this.” Grace struggled to speak calmly. She didn't want her grandfather to see how much his appearance worried her. He looked as if he had shrunk, thin and
weak against the pillows. His skin was sallow and his hair in disarray.

She forced a smile. “Go on. I dare you. Besides, this will melt if you don't eat it.”

“I never could resist a dare. It has long been a source of trouble in my life. Marta told me that.” He seemed to struggle to focus. “Why don't you have it, Grace?”

“I've already eaten, Granddad. You go ahead.”

“Well, if you insist…” He managed a faint smile, then straightened up in his bed. “Now this feels like old times.” He took a bite and rolled his eyes. “Just the way I remembered.”

At least he could remember some things. She had to believe that all the rest would return eventually.

Her grandfather continued to eat his dessert, saying nothing until the cup was empty. He always approached his favorite treat like a little boy, stretching out the careful, measured pleasure in a way that reminded Grace how hard his childhood had been. This had been one of his few indulgences in a disciplined and controlled life. He had waited patiently for Saturdays and the fruit sherbet. Trips for ice cream had been a long-standing tradition for them.

Grace shook off her nostalgia. “Sorry, Granddad, I didn't hear you.”

He stared up at the ceiling. “I said I apologize for this, honey.” A frown worked over his face. “I didn't want you to come. Then that nice young woman said you had to know. Sorry.” He closed his eyes. “My
head hurts. I can't remember why. What…what happened to me? Why can't I remember?” He was growing agitated.

“It will all come back to you, Granddad. For now, you need to rest.”

“No. I need to know what happened.”

Grace sat next to him and placed her hand over his, explaining that he had had an accident at the clinic. He wouldn't forgive vague explanations about his prognosis, so she gave the truth but kept the details brief. “Your ribs will take the longest to mend, but like everything else, they will heal.” She rushed on as he opened his mouth to blurt out more questions. “Yes, the animal shelter is in good hands. Your staff took over, along with Caro's grandmother. That's why Morgan hasn't been over to see you yet. She's been busy organizing your friends onto a volunteer schedule so the place will keep running as well as it always has.”

His eyelids closed. He sighed deeply, as if all his burdens had finally been lifted. “I'm…very relieved. I knew Morgie would help. But I wish I could see her.”

Grace kept talking in a soft voice. “I'll be doing my share, too, but Morgan would have a fit if I tried to take over, and she'd be right. She knows exactly what you would want done for the animals…?.”

A tear fought to escape and Grace blinked hard.

She
should know what he'd want done, but she'd never been home long enough to find out. She should
know all the details of her grandfather's daily routine so she could take care of him properly, but she'd been too wrapped up in her own life to notice how much he was aging.

Guilt made her sick as she stared at his pale features. “I'm so sorry I wasn't here to help you more, Granddad. I should have been.”

“You should not.” His voice was precise and determined, sounding just the way she remembered it.

Startled, Grace studied his face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you should have been doing exactly what you were—building your life, filling it with wonderful people who matter to you.” He seemed to rouse, his focus clear suddenly. “The thought of my granddaughter hovering over me day and night, as if I was helpless and needed constant care like an invalid.” He poked a finger at the air. “Appalling.”

“You mean you don't want me here?”

“Of course that's not what I meant. I love to see you. But you have your own life now. I only want you here if it doesn't create a problem for you.” The vet closed his eyes again, sounding very tired. His eye cracked open. “I want your promise on that. You can leave now. I'll be fine.”

“It's not a problem. I have plenty to do here.” Grace had considered her friends' proposition for Harbor House thoroughly during her sleepless nights. This new venture would solve all kinds problems and give her something to do while she cared
for her grandfather, since his recovery could take months. She would be home, where she wanted to be, doing what she loved.

Except Noah was on the other side of the country.

Grace looked down and saw that Peter was sound asleep, looking weak but at peace. And she realized his cool fingers were wrapped tightly around hers, almost childlike.

She didn't expect the storm of love and protectiveness that hit her as she listened to his quiet breathing.

When his grip finally relaxed, Grace walked out into the hallway. Closing her eyes, she sank back against the wall, trembling. Most of what she felt was relief that her grandfather was lucid again, even briefly.

She had so much to be thankful for. But it would be a long road back. And his weakened condition meant a whole new set of responsibilities for her.

“Honey, are you all right?” One of the intensive-care nurses crossed the hall, studying her face. She glanced at the name on the door. “That's your grandfather, Dr. Lindstrom, right? The vet from down the coast?”

Grace managed a nod, wiping her eyes furiously.

“First of all, crying is nothing to be ashamed of. Having a relative in the hospital hits us all hard. But your grandfather is doing extremely well. Don't get upset because he's forgetful. It often happens after head trauma. He's going to look weak and pale
until he gets out of the hospital and starts exercising again. All things considered, he's in amazing shape.”

Grace forced a smile. “I know you're right. I know that he's being well cared for, too. And I'm so glad that he finally recognized me today. But he's so changed. So thin.” She took a deep breath. “I hate seeing him this way. Now I can't seem to stop all these emotions.”

The nurse nodded. “It's traumatic, but don't bury your feelings. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to get angry and kick something, get angry and kick something. The very best thing you can do right now is to find people you love and tell them how you feel. Tell them that you love them. That kind of honesty is the best medicine in the world,” the nurse said firmly. “And I won't even charge you for it.”

“Thanks. I'll keep it in mind.” But Grace didn't want to talk to anyone about how she felt. She couldn't stop worrying about her grandfather or the big changes ahead of both of them. The responsibility of keeping the animal shelter on firm ground made her doubly worried. And Grace's friends had their own problems. She wasn't about to burden them with hers.

Find someone that you love.

Somehow, without knowing it, her hand slid to her pocket. She reacted with raw instinct, no longer fighting the emotions flowing through her. She had to talk to someone. Denial wouldn't help her or her grandfather. She had lost a fiancé—and then lost
him again when she learned the extent of his betrayals. Her career had been her solace during that dark time of pain, but with her grandfather so ill, there would be no more research that would take her away from home for weeks. She still had her restaurant consulting work, and eventually she might find a few jobs in Portland or the upscale restaurants of the Willamette Valley to supplement income from the Harbor House when it opened. Over time she could build up local contacts, but it would be slow.

More changes. More shifting ground beneath her feet.

Overwhelmed by looming uncertainties, Grace closed her eyes. She had always dreamed bigger than one town and one state. Her heart had always led the way, calling her down little paved streets on Paris's Left Bank or the back roads of Asia. She loved the obscure and the exotic. She savored the excitement of waking up every day in a new town, sometimes a new continent, wandering through markets with spices she had no names for.

But she loved her grandfather deeply. There was no question that she would stay and help him, even though he would frown and try to talk her out of it. As long as he needed her, she would stay. It would be hard for both of them to accept the changes to come. He would hate his loss of independence, hate his new weakness. Physical therapy would be a trial. How was she going to manage him and the animal shelter and still do her share at the café?

She gave a little jump at a chime from her cell phone. A text message flickered on the screen.

 

Hey. Haven't heard from you in a while. Everything OK?

 

Threads of warmth worked through her. It was hard to face these new emotions and harder still to share them, but Grace knew the nurse was right. She needed to reach out to someone she could trust.

Even if he was on the opposite side of the continent. She took a deep breath and began to type. Not sure.

 

Your grandfather?

 

Lucid, thank heaven. We just talked. But he's so pale, nothing like the man I remember. And right now…all I seem to want to do is cry. I feel so stupid. Helpless. I think I'm a mess.

 

She pressed the send button, then leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.

She missed his voice, missed his laugh. Suddenly she ached to feel his arms around her. She needed to feel safe, but her world was changing too fast.

 

Not stupid. NOT helpless.

 

There was a pause.

 

At hospital?

 

Yes.

 

Grace's phone rang. She recognized the Washington, D.C., area code of the caller. “Hello?”

“You're not helpless and you're not a mess. You could
never
be a mess. You're the most sane, stable and well-balanced person I know. Let's get that straight right now.”

His voice calmed her on almost a physical level. Grace felt his strength and absolute confidence in her. They flowed out to her, real and true despite the distance. That knowledge made some of the tension leave her shoulders. “You wouldn't say that if you could see me now. My hair is a wreck. I'm wearing a black sweatshirt that's two sizes too big because that's all that my friend Jilly had to loan me. Yeah, I'm a mess.” Her voice fell. “It's really good to talk to you. I miss you, Noah.”

“Me, too, honey.” He cleared his throat and Grace heard a chair creak nearby.

“If you're busy, I can call back later.”

“Now is fine. Tell me what's happened and what I can do to help.”

Grace felt her heart lurch at the tenderness in his voice. She wanted to see him, to touch his face and hear his laugh. She hated being so far away from him. “Noah—I can't leave, not for several weeks.
Maybe longer. It all depends on my grandfather. But do you think…would you consider coming here? One day, two days or even a week. Whatever you want.” She took a ragged breath. “I miss you. Did I already say that?”

“You did. I'll come. Just as soon as I can, I promise. But I've got things to tie up here. I'm not sure how long that will take.”

“Whenever you can get here is fine, no pressure. I'll be ready. I'll even cook for you.” She smiled into the phone, restored to balance. Then she took a deep breath and told him all about her grandfather and the new café and the Harbor House project. If her voice wavered a little during the telling, Noah made no comment. When she was done, she heard the sound of the creaking chair as he leaned back. That's some island you've got. Friends like that will stick by you. And from what I know about your grandfather, he's a stubborn old moose. He'll recover. In fact, he'll probably outlive all of us. Now tell me more about this house you plan to restore.”

 

G
RACE WAS CHUCKLING
ten minutes later when she hung up. She didn't put her phone away immediately. Holding its weight made her feel as if she was still connected to Noah.

She gripped the cool metal, trying to hold tight to this precious new thing they had found. Even if their relationship went no further, Grace wanted him
in her life, whether as a friend, a confidante or as a lover.

But the truth was that she wanted him to be all three.

 

F
OG WAS BURNING
away above the ocean when Grace turned into the parking area at the Summer Island Animal Shelter. She sat without moving, remembering all the other times she had come here. Usually there were three or four cars parked in the rough gravel area, but now she saw at least three dozen. As she turned off the motor, a young couple and their teenage son walked by. The father was lecturing the boy about the responsibilities that came with being a volunteer and how much the animals inside needed their help, now that Dr. Peter was sick.

Two more cars pulled up. A young girl got out of one, and Grace recognized the daughter of an old friend. The girl saw her and waved, then climbed the steps to the front door, followed by a teenage boy carrying a big bag of dog food.