Falling for Love (13 page)

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be flippant about what happened to you.”

“No, you’re right. In my case, I’d equate the storm to a tornado—an F5, in fact. Metaphorically speaking, the wreckage it left was similar to the pictures you see on TV.” As she spoke, Laura walked around the room, examining the furniture, viewing the yellowing wallpaper and imagining what it would take to breathe new life into the musty, faded lobby.

“Do you find it exciting to be without power for days on end?”

“In some ways. I made coffee on a gas grill this morning, and it was damned good, if I do say so myself. In fact, my uncle confirmed it.”

He crossed his arms over the sage cable-knit sweater he wore. The color made his gray eyes seem green. “Anyone who can make coffee on gas grill can survive the other stuff, you know.”

“I have every intention of surviving.” As she brushed the dust off her hands, she realized she’d moved past the fury and into the acceptance stage at some point during her stay on Gansett Island. “What were you doing out in the storm?”

“Looking for coffee, ironically enough.”

“Did you find any?”

“Nope.”

“Got a gas grill?”

“As a matter of fact I do. I’ve got coffee, too. But because I’m not as clever as you, I didn’t think of combining the two.”

The silly compliment pleased her more than it probably should have. “Then allow me.” Feeling lighter than she had since the F5 shattered her life, she gestured for him to lead the way.

After spending most of the day in bed, Grant and Stephanie shared a lukewarm shower and ventured into the storm to visit his new niece and then check on the marina. They refilled the generator’s gas tank and battled their way down the main pier to check on the boats.

“I’ve got some things I need to do here,” Stephanie said when they stepped back into the dark building that housed the restaurant and office. She flipped on a flashlight. “Would you mind too much if I stayed here tonight? I can plug some lights into the generator.”

“Yes, I’d mind.”

“Seriously, Grant—”

“Seriously, Stephanie. I don’t want you here alone.”

All she could think about was the ticking of the clock and the thousand dollars she needed to come up with to pay the lawyer before the end of the month. Not to mention the more time she spent with Grant, the harder it became to remember she was leaving soon and would probably never see him again. She crossed her arms, prepared to dig in. “I’ll be fine.”

“What if I won’t? Did I ever tell you I’m afraid of wind?”

Stephanie smiled at the ridiculous comment. “No, I don’t think you mentioned that.”

“Besides, you’re the only one who can get the dogs to go outside.” He tilted his head, making a pout face that was rather adorable. “I
need
you.”

“I really do have things to do.”

“Whatever it is, bring it with you. Pack up what you need. I’ll wait for you.”

He was all but impossible to resist. “Fine!” Exasperated, she spun around to head back to her room behind the kitchen to get her things. She tossed some clothes and a few of the files pertaining to Charlie’s case into a backpack. As the wind howled and beat against the wooden walls of the cavernous building, Stephanie was secretly glad not to have to spend the night there alone, even if the admission made her feel like a wimp.

Grant jumped up when she returned and led her out to the truck. They rode back to Janey’s place in silence.

“What’re you thinking about over there?” he asked as he navigated around branches on the road.

“Baby Hailey. Isn’t she so beautiful?”

“Of course she’s beautiful. She’s my niece.”

She snorted with laughter. “Your ego knows no bounds.”

“They seem really happy,” Grant said wistfully.

“Yeah.” Stephanie wondered what it would be like to be Maddie with a husband who clearly worshiped her and two gorgeous children. Had anyone ever worshiped her? Hardly. Charlie had loved her and done his best to protect her, but their relationship these days was all about undoing the injustice of the past.

Because she and her mother had moved from town to town, from apartment to apartment, Stephanie hadn’t had many friends growing up. In fact, she couldn’t think of a single person, other than the stepfather who’d gone to jail for her, who had ever truly loved her. Now that was a depressing thought.

Grant’s hand landed on her leg, infusing her with warmth. “You okay?”

Stephanie snapped out of her morose thoughts to discover he’d pulled into Janey’s driveway and cut the engine. “Sure. Let’s go in.”

They ran through the driving rain and collided on the front porch, dissolving into laughter.

“That was a graceful landing,” Grant said when they were inside.

“I can’t see over this huge hood.” Stephanie shed the overly large jacket and handed it to him to hang up to dry. “How much longer is this storm going to hover over us, anyway?”

“Mac said at least another day. It’s stalled over the island.”

One more day, she thought wistfully. What then?

They tended to the animals and met in the living room, where Grant lit the fire. “Are you hungry? I can roast you a hot dog.”

“As appealing as that sounds, I’m still full from the fireplace soup you cooked earlier. I wouldn’t mind some wine, though. Do we have any?”

“Let me check.” He took the flashlight and headed into the kitchen, returning a minute later with a bottle in hand. “Merlot. I’ll add it to our tab.” They’d been keeping a list of all the canned goods and frozen food they’d consumed during the blackout. “I heard someone say today that the island is nearly out of gasoline, there’re no more eggs or milk at the grocery store and all the ATMs are out of cash. Shows how much we rely on the ferries and all the supplies they bring.”

“What’ll we do if we don’t get power back before we run out of food?” Stephanie asked as he opened the wine, poured her a glass and joined her on the sofa.

“I suppose we’ll have to get out our fishing poles.”

The thought of running out of food sent a jolt of fear through her. “You think it’ll come to that?”

“No, silly,” he said, laughing. “I don’t think it’ll come to that. Between what we have here, what we have at the marina, what we have at Mac’s—all of which is being kept cold by generators—we’ll be fine.”

“Oh.” She took a sip of wine and let it warm her on the inside. “Good.”

Grant sobered as he studied her. “Could I ask you something?”

Wary, she glanced at him. “I guess.”

“Was there a time in your life when you didn’t have enough to eat?”

The question caught her completely off guard. Because she didn’t know where else to look, she studied her wineglass.

“Steph?” His voice was so soft, so gentle, so loving.

A deep breath shuddered through her as memories she’d locked away years ago surged to the surface.

“It’s okay,” he said, running his hand over her thigh. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“She tried her best, but she was an addict.” The words spilled from her lips, almost against her will. She kept her gaze fixed on her wineglass, sensing that if she let her eyes meet his, she’d lose her composure. “All she cared about was her next score. There was nothing she wouldn’t do or sell or overlook to get what she needed. It wasn’t her fault. She had a disease.”

He slipped an arm around her.

Stephanie rested her head on his shoulder, transfixed by the dancing flames in the fireplace.

“Did she forget about you?”

“Sometimes.”

“For how long?”

Stephanie shrugged. “A few days. A week once.” She felt and heard the breath catch in his throat.

“How old were you?”

“Six, maybe seven. The first time.”

His arm tightened around her, and his lips skimmed the top of her head. He all but vibrated with what she assumed was rage.

She appreciated that he didn’t say anything. What could be said, anyway? It had happened, and she’d survived. As she watched the fire and sipped the tasty wine, she was glad she’d come home with him. For one more night, she didn’t have to be alone or lonely or hungry for things others seemed to take for granted.

She’d give him one more night, and then she had to get back to reality.

Grant stared at the wine bottle, wishing he hadn’t chosen such a bad time to quit drinking. Hearing that Stephanie had not only been abused by her mother but neglected, too, was more than he could take. And then what happened to the stepfather who’d come to her rescue…

As he held her close, it occurred to him that she was a true survivor. Sure, he’d taken his share of lumps in the last couple of years as his relationship with Abby hit the skids and his career tanked. But compared to what Stephanie had endured, he had no real problems.

“What’re you thinking?” she asked in a small voice that told him his brooding silence had worried her.

“I’m thinking about how much I admire you.”

“For what?”

“After all you’ve been through, it’s a wonder you can put one foot in front of the other.”

“What choice do I have? There was no way I was going to let myself end up like my mother, and besides, I have to work to pay for Charlie’s lawyers.”

“I could help you with that, you know.”

She sat up and moved out of his embrace. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I’ve got it covered.”

“Let me rephrase—I
want
to help you.”

She was shaking her head before the words were even out of his mouth. “It’s my problem. I didn’t tell you about it because I expected you to do something.”

“I know that.” Grant turned to her and reached for her hand. “But I also know people, Steph—people who might be able to help you.”

The look that crossed her face was full of yearning until he watched her rein it in. “I appreciate that you want to help—”

“How much have you spent on lawyers in the last fourteen years?”

The question took her by surprise.

“How much, honey?” he asked, softening his tone.

“Close to half a million,” she said almost sheepishly. “Almost every dime I’ve ever made except the small amount I needed to live on.”

“How in the world did you come up with half a million dollars working in restaurants?”

“That’s not all I did.”

Grant wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. “What else?”

She looked at him defiantly. “Whatever I had to. For one thing, I discovered strippers make a
lot
of money.”

He ached for what she’d endured all on her own. “Are you any closer to a new trial today than you were at the beginning?”

“We have a new lawyer, and he’s optimistic.”

“Please let me help you. Let me call every lawyer I know. Let me write about your story and tell people that Charlie doesn’t belong in jail.”

She was shaking her head as he spoke.

“Let me talk to my uncle, the superior court judge.”

That stopped her cold. “Your uncle is a judge.”

“Yes. My father’s brother is—”

“Frank McCarthy. Oh my God.”

Grant took the wineglass from her and placed it on the table. “Let us help you, Stephanie. You’ve been fighting this battle alone for most of your life. You don’t have to do that anymore. I have friends and connections and money. My family does, too.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Let us help you.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because I can’t bear to think of you continuing to fight this battle on your own when I could so easily help you—and I know my parents would feel the same way if they knew what you’re going through.”

She pulled back to meet his gaze. “I meant why do you care?”

“I don’t know. I just do.” He tipped her chin and kissed her. “If you let me tell your story, if you let me do what I do best, maybe it’ll help.”

“What if…”

Grant released one of her hands so he could cup her cheek and compel her to look at him. “What if what?”

“What if I agree to let you help me and this thing between us, whatever it is, doesn’t work out…”

“My offer of help has absolutely no strings attached. I promise.”

She eyed him skeptically. “And what’s in it for you?”

Grant had to remind himself that she’d never had anyone help her with anything—other than Charlie, of course—so naturally she’d be suspicious of someone offering no-strings-attached assistance. “I’m not thinking about me. I’m thinking about you—and Charlie.”

“You said you’d been suffering from writer’s block until I told you about Charlie and what happened. Is that what this is about?”

Grant released a long deep breath. “I won’t lie to you and say I’m not glad—and relieved—that the desire to write has come back. It’s been a long dry spell. But I meant it when I told you I wouldn’t write a word about you or Charlie if you don’t want me to. You have my word on that.”

“How would it help if you wrote about us?”

“People need to know the truth about what’s happened to Charlie. I have friends in Hollywood who can ignite a media firestorm with one phone call. I could get you more coverage of this story than you could ever imagine possible. I could arrange an appointment with my uncle. In other words, I’d raise some holy hell about the injustice of an innocent man rotting in jail when his ‘victim’ is willing to testify that no crime was committed.”

“Why would you do that for me? You barely know me.”

“Because what happened to you—and to Charlie—was wrong. And because I care about you.” Smiling, he added, “And I can’t help but wonder what you’d do with all your time if you didn’t have to think about getting your stepfather out of jail anymore.”

Stephanie released a laugh. “I haven’t the first clue what I’d do. I can’t remember a time when fighting for Charlie wasn’t at the center of my life.”

“Will you let me help you?”

She studied him for a long moment before she said, “Okay,” so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “In all the years this has been going on, you’re the first person who’s offered to help us.”

Grant pulled on her hand, bringing her closer to him.

She settled on his lap and linked her arms around his neck. “Thank you for caring.”

“I hope it helps.”

Her head dropped to his shoulder. “What do we do first?”

“I want you to tell me the whole story. Every detail. We’ll go from there.”

Releasing a deep sigh, she said, “It makes me tired to even think about revisiting it all.”

Grant hugged her and kissed her forehead. He realized that she was sitting on his lap and for once his body wasn’t behaving like that of a middle-school boy. At some point during the emotionally charged conversation, things had changed for him. Freeing her from her awful burden mattered to him.
She
mattered to him.

“Start at the beginning,” he said. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”