Murphy's Law (20 page)

Chapter
17

Sara couldn’t remember the last time she
had been sick, but this morning she woke up with a circus tumbling inside her
stomach. She sat up in bed and immediately lay down when the room spun.
Wonderful. She’d caught a flu bug and would probably have the rest of the house
sick in days.

Groaning, she closed her eyes and
breathed through the nausea. Minutes later she ran across the hall and slammed
the door behind her. She barely made it to the toilet before the circus tumbled
right on out of her stomach.

Afterward, she collapsed on the rim and
took deep, cleansing breaths. Her stomach felt better, but she didn’t.

The door opened behind her and Alice
bustled in. Sara cracked an eye open when a hand clamped on her forehead.

“Oh, dear, you don’t look well at all. You’re
white as a sheet. Come on, back to bed.”

Sara didn’t have the strength to argue,
so she let Alice help her back into bed. She didn’t protest when a cool
washcloth pressed to her forehead and the covers were pulled up to her chin.

A thermometer was stuck in her mouth and
Sara sighed. Her mother had been too busy working to pamper her when she was
sick. It felt good to be taken care of.

“No fever,” Alice said, setting the
thermometer aside. “Is your stomach still upset?”

Sara shook her head.

“Aches?”

“No, I’m feeling better now.”

“Well, you’re staying in bed until
you’re feeling one hundred percent. You probably picked up a bug. It’ll pass
soon, I’m sure. I’ll tell Jon to take Abby over to Justine’s after their lesson
so you can rest. She’s been begging to go back over. He can pick her up later.”

Sara opened her mouth to protest, but
Alice waved her off and closed the curtains so she could rest, then went
downstairs to fix her some broth and toast. Sara didn’t realize she was so
tired until her eyes drifted shut. She didn’t worry about Abby. Murphy had been
sticking close to her daughter the past few days, making her wish things could
be different. He would make a good father for Abby, but she knew he wasn’t
ready to settle down.

She woke up feeling great. Alice
wouldn’t let her out of bed, so she stayed put and ate the broth served to her
for lunch, then worked on her drawings. By dinnertime she paced the room. When
she heard everyone downstairs she hurried down before Alice could stop her.

The same bug affected her the next three
days, and by the fourth she was drained. Alice ordered her to slow down and
stop worrying, insisting the aftershocks of the stress she had endured recently
were the cause. Sara had to agree. Thinking about Stephen and what had happened
got her worked up every time. It must have taken its toll on her.

Abby didn’t leave her side except for
her riding lessons, which Sara insisted she go to, and Alice fussed over her
like a mother hen. Justine and MaryAnn brought her books and magazines, told
her not to worry, things were going to work out. Sara insisted they not tell
Murphy she wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t need him to see her like this.

On the evening of the fourth day, he
burst into her room and glared down at her. She lay in bed, reading one of
Justine’s romance novels, and jumped when the door flew open. One look at the
scowl on his face and she laid the book in her lap. When she met his eyes, she
saw the concern he tried to hide with a frown, and smiled. He might not want to
admit it, but he was worried about her. It made her go all soft and gooey on
the inside.

“You’ve been sick four days,” he said.
“What’s wrong with you?”

“I think I let Stephen get the better of
me.”

Murphy stiffened.

“I mean, I’m letting my past get me down
and it’s taking its toll. I didn’t let Stephen win for six years and I can’t
let him win now. It has nothing to do with you, Murphy, you’ve taken good care
of us here. It’s me. I tend to let things get to me.”

“To the point you make yourself sick?”

He sounded angry and she bit back
another smile. “I guess so, but I promised your mom and sisters I would quit,
so you can stop worrying.”

Murphy’s scowl darkened. “I’m not
worrying,” he muttered and backed up a couple steps until he stood in the
doorway. “Do as my mother says, she knows about these things.”

Sara nodded, wishing he wasn’t leaving
so soon. “I will.”

He met her eyes for a moment and she
thought he would come back in, but he said good night and walked out instead.
Sara sighed and picked up her book. She’d have to settle for dreaming of him.

* * * *

Her nerves didn’t really settle, and as
the days passed Sara tried to ignore the truth. It was time to leave. She
couldn’t handle the stress of knowing Stephen could take her daughter at any
time. She loved and respected Murphy’s family too much to stay. Her morning
bouts of nausea were proof of that. They were on borrowed time, so it was no
surprise the stress made her sick. Stephen was a master at this game; she
couldn’t stay here another day. Living with the stress of knowing he could hurt
Murphy’s family was worse than being on the run and hiding out. At least then
she only had her and Abby to worry about.

There was only one thing left to do.

Quietly and with a heavy heart, Sara
packed their things and tucked them away until they could slip away. She’d
already arranged a ride into town with the wife of one of the  hired hands. All
she had to do was tell Abby. She hated to tear her daughter away from the
family she had grown to love--again. But, what choice did she have?

She had finished her drawings while
bedridden and would leave them behind as a thank-you for Murphy’s family after
she left. She wrote a three-page letter to all of them and then sat down and
wrote a lengthy one to Murphy. Putting her feelings on paper was harder than
she had imagined, but she forced the words. She owed Murphy that much.

By time she finished, she was crying so
hard she simply turned out the lamp and crawled into bed, her heart breaking in
two.

* * * *

Feasting her eyes on the man striding
across the lawn toward her, Sara committed the image to memory. It would be one
of the last she had of Murphy and her daughter together. Abby sat on Murphy’s
shoulders, giggling.

Sadness filled her. Tonight they were
leaving. They would never see Murphy or his family again. She could only hope
Abby forgave her and with the grace of God, maybe she’d see her daughter this
happy again.

Schooling her features, Sara forced a
smile and waved to the two as they headed for the tire swing. They had just
come from Abby’s riding lesson, a daily ritual, and were ending with a swing on
the tire. Sara’s heart twisted at the sight of her daughter sitting tall on
Murphy’s broad shoulders. Abby adored Murphy. Her daughter had become very
close to the scarred hero and it broke her heart to think Murphy would never
have children of his own. He would make a wonderful father. Patient and
protective, with a soft heart hidden behind brawn and a scowl.

Abby waved back and Murphy swung her off
his shoulders onto the ground. It shouldn’t be sexy, but seeing Murphy with her
daughter made her want a happily ever after with him even more. Strong, virile
and handsome. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d been caught staring
more times than she could count.

Looking away, she took a deep breath and
willed her heart to stop racing.

When she looked up, she found Murphy
watching her as he pushed Abby gently on the tire swing. She couldn’t read his
expression and hoped he couldn’t read hers. He would see right through her if
she wasn’t careful, so she smiled and returned her attention to the sketchpad
in her lap. Still feeling Murphy’s eyes on her, she willed him to look away.

Of course he didn’t.

When she looked up again, he stood in
front of her with Abby in his arms. He signed to Abby, who nodded and ran into
the house as soon as he put her down. Sara felt a moment’s panic, but pushed it
down. During her stay with the Benchleys she’d learned to hide her feelings.
Where were those skills now, when she needed them most?

“Are you feeling sick again?” he asked
gruffly.

Latching on to the chance to distract
him, Sara nodded. “A little. I think I’ll turn in with Abby.”

Knowing this was her last chance to see
Murphy, she stood and put her sketchpad on the chair. With sadness in her heart
she leaned up and kissed him, but she didn’t linger. She let herself have this
last indulgence, if only for a moment. It would be the last chance she had to
feel Murphy’s lips, to breathe in his masculine scent. Before Murphy could
reach for her, she pulled away.

“Good night, Murphy,” she murmured and
without a second glance disappeared inside the house. He didn’t call her back
and he didn’t follow her. Thank goodness, because she wouldn’t have been able
to explain the tears streaming down her cheeks.

* * * *

Murphy woke up feeling restless and
edgy. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew why. He’d had a long talk with
his mom and sisters last night and told them everything. He told them about his
mission and the woman he had risked his life for. They had listened silently as
he told them what he’d gone through in that cage and how he had betrayed
country and self in the end. Like Sara, they had cried for him and told him he
was a hero for saving the lives of so many girls. He hadn’t given anything but
his name and rank, so he didn’t betray his country, and they insisted the
what-might-have-been didn’t matter. His mother had wrapped him in a warm
embrace and told him his father would have been proud of him. At that moment
Murphy felt the last of his burdens lift off his shoulders. For the first time
since his return, the past wasn’t hanging between him and his family. He owed
it all to Sara.

If she hadn’t barged into his life and
forced him to come home, he might still be living in the mountains pretending
he didn’t belong. She’d freed him from the past, and he owed her a great debt
of gratitude. Without her, he wouldn’t be here, where he belonged.

Before retiring for the night, his
mother had decided it was time he knew what his father had wanted for the ranch.
She explained his father had asked her to wait until Murphy retired from the
Army to tell him, and she felt he was ready to take on the responsibility. His
dad had left the ranch to him. His mother hadn’t come right out and said it,
but she’d hinted that she really enjoyed having Sara and Abby on the ranch, and
fate had brought Sara to his doorstep.

Murphy had never believed in fate. When
he went up to bed and passed Sara’s closed door he had paused, his hand on the
door handle before he knew what he was doing. But he hadn’t gone in. He had
continued on to his room and quietly closed the door behind him. The rest of
the night he’d tossed and turned, thinking about what his mother had said. Was
he ready to be a father to Abby?

Questions plagued him all night long. He
had heard Sara get up sometime during the night and go into Abby’s room. He
couldn’t face her with so many questions racing through his head. So he willed
himself to let it rest for the night, and tossed in his sleep instead.

Now, he stood in his doorway staring at
the letter in his hand in stunned disbelief and dread. Sara was running again.

And this time she was running from him.

With a curse, he threw the letter on his
dresser and strode down the hall, practically running into his mother, who
stormed up the stairs. She looked ready to cry or throw something, he couldn’t
tell which.

She shook a handful of paper at him.
“She’s gone, Jon. I have to check her room to see if it’s true.”

Murphy allowed his mom to pass him on
the stairs, then followed her into Sara’s room. The bed was made and everything
was in order, but her things were gone. Murphy stood in the doorway surrounded
by Sara’s lingering scent. It heated him from the inside out and he wondered if
it had become a permanent part of this room. Vanilla mixed with Sara’s own
delicate scent that had haunted his dreams from the day he’d met her.

His mother dropped down on the bed and
picked up the sketchpad lying there. She opened it and gasped. Tears began to
stream down her cheeks. She flipped slowly through the pages, letting her hand
linger on some, and then looked up at him.

“Did you know about this?” she asked.

He knew Sara spent her time drawing, but
he didn’t recognize this particular book. He stepped into the room and took it
from his mother’s outstretched hands. When he opened it, his chest tightened.

Each page was a recreation of the
pictures that had been hanging on the walls of the barn before it burned. Sara
had committed them to memory and then drawn each one. They were all there. Now
he understood why she felt she had to leave. She blamed herself for the loss
and was giving back some of what they lost. Damn, he should have seen this
coming.

“She’s out there, Jon, and there is no
one to protect her and that precious little girl.”

Murphy handed the pad back. “Yes, there
is.”

His mother stood and wrapped her arms
around him. “You’ll bring her back. This is where she belongs.”