Raphaela's Gift (28 page)

"Yes. Thoroughly. She's not here."

"Okay, I'll take a look around the house." He lifted his flashlight from his belt and illuminated it.

Good. Now he was getting somewhere. He only hoped it wasn't too late, hoped Raphaela hadn't strayed too far from the house. Or worse. He followed the policeman around the side of the house.

"Sir, I recommend you stay inside in case someone calls, or your daughter is in the house hiding."

Garret knew Raphaela wasn't hiding in the house, but he also knew the officer was right. He had to stay put, as hard as that would be. If she returned home to an empty house, there was no telling what she might do in a panic.

He turned on the television, hoping the sound would drown out the voices screaming to him, voices telling him he'd made a mistake by thinking he could continue to care for Raphaela without Marian. That was only one of countless mistakes. He'd sent her after Michael, a man he hated, and forgot to set the alarm system because he'd been too preoccupied with his thoughts to remember.

Damn it all! He'd meant well.

Steeped in regret, loneliness, and misery, he sat on the couch and stared through the images on the television. The voices droning from it broke through his mental machinations occasionally as he thought about what had brought him to this point. Pride and denial had carried him most of the way, helped by guilt.

He'd thought he'd come so far, grown through this past two weeks. If anything, his progress only showed him how much further he had to travel.

Sometime before the sun slipped into the eastern sky, and the infomercials ended, a ring at the doorbell sent his heart racing. The sight at the door as he opened it, the police officer, alone, made its beating cease completely.

"Yes, officer?" he asked, searching the man's face.
Please, tell me you found her and she's okay! God, please.

He motioned toward his car, parked in the driveway. "I have a child in the back seat. I'd like you to come out and ID her."

"Is she?" He couldn't say another word. Fear cut them off.

"She's fine. Doesn't look injured." He smiled.

Garret pushed past him and ran to the car, tears of relief flooding his eyes. It had to be her. And he took his first full breath in hours when he spied her through the window. "Oh, God! Ella!"

The officer opened the car door and Garret threw his arms around his baby girl, grateful to feel her, to see her, to run his hands through her silky curls.

"Thank you, officer."

"You're welcome, sir."

As Garret led Raphaela back into the house, the policeman got into his car and drove away. And as Garret and Raphaela stood on the porch watching the car disappear down the driveway, a thought struck him. An inspiration.

A nanny wasn't enough for Raphaela, but a nanny who loved her, a nanny he trusted, a therapist would be good, someone who was familiar with the methods he would use to help Raphaela.

There is only one person who could be all that--and more.

* * *

Faith wakened in the morning rested, but anxious. After forcing herself to eat a bowl of cereal, she settled in a chair next to the telephone, lifted the receiver and began to punch the numbers Garret had scribbled on the back of his card. She squinted, wishing the extra effort would make his handwriting clearer. Garret had typical doctor handwriting, and deciphering hieroglyphics would be easier. As she listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times, she hoped she'd dialed the right number.

"Hello," answered a groggy-sounding male voice.

"Garret? Garret Damiani?"

"Yeah."

"Hi, it's Faith."

"Oh, hi." His voice lost its gritty sleepiness, instantly coming to life.

"Did I wake you?"

"I should be getting up anyway. Do you have a free hour or so? I'd like to talk to you about something. Can you meet me for coffee?"

"Sure," she answered, curious. What was he up to? "Where do you want to meet?"

"I'll come to you. Where are you staying?"

"I'm in Hartville, just off route six nineteen."

"Perfect. We can meet at the Burger King in town. I'll be there in one hour."

Then he hung up. Just like that.

What did he want? This wasn't about an apartment, she knew it. If it were, surely he would have just given her a number over the phone. Was it a job? Was there a problem with Marian?

Suddenly energized, more from nerves, she kissed her grandfather, who sat in his recliner watching her with soft baby-blue eyes, and dashed back to the bathroom. One hour to shower, dress and calm her racing heart.

The shower and dressing part went well, but, as she climbed into her car and prepared to drive the short distance to the Burger King, her heart rate only increased. And when she pulled into the parking lot and spied his form as he sat at a table next to the window, her whole body flushed hot. Was she running a fever?

She sucked in a few slow breaths and then walked to the restaurant door. As she pulled on the metal handle, her stomach clenched.
Damn, not now!

"Faith," he called, standing and waving.

She hesitated, then dashed to the bathroom, and ran her hands under the cold tap, wishing the nausea would stop. Why did her nervous stomach erupt every time she was excited or upset? She reached into her purse, pulled out the green bottle, and took a healthy swig of the chalky liquid, forcing it down her throat.

Shaking away the gagging reflex, she waited for the soothing cool liquid to hit bottom. Slowly, the color returned to her face as she watched in the mirror. After a quick touch up of her lipstick, she went to Garret's table.

He was alone.

"Hi," she said, her voice still shaky.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he stood. His eyes were puffy with deep purple shadows underneath. "Do you want a cup of coffee or anything?"

She cringed, tempted to gag again. "No, thanks. I'm fine. I have an ulcer. Have had it forever. It's acting up today." She paused, noticing the heaviness of his shoulders. "You don't look so good yourself." Had he gone out drinking last night? She hadn't seen any signs of drinking before, but it was a possibility, she supposed.

He slipped back into his seat across from her, after she scooted into the booth seat. His eyes never left her face. "Thanks for meeting me. I'm sorry about all the mystery. I didn't want to tell you anything because I was afraid you would refuse to meet me."

So, he did have a drinking problem?

She hoped her offhand assumption was wrong, not only for her sake, but for Raphaela's. One thing was certain, he had aroused more than mild curiosity. "What is it?" She studied his features. He looked like he might be as nervous as she was--toying with a napkin, while a second one lay in a shredded pile next to a full cup of coffee.

"I have a proposition for you."

Her heart stopped. "What sort of proposition?"

He looked like it took too much effort to sit erect. Slowly, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. His head tipped slightly to one side, like a puppy, and his eyes dropped from her face to the tabletop. "Last night, Ella wandered off."

That was the last thing she'd expected to hear. It took a moment for the words to strike home, but when they did, they left her reeling and nauseated all over again. "Oh, God! Is she okay? Did you find her?"

"She's okay. The police found her. But it took them all night."

She couldn't imagine how terrified he must have been. No wonder his eyes were so bloodshot. She would have looked worse had it been her child. "I'm glad to hear she's okay." She didn't know what else to say. Anything more sounded trite, even in her head.

"Anyway, I had hours to think--think about Ella, her needs, her behavior, my schedule--and I've concluded I can't do this alone."

He was confusing her. Where was this going? Wasn't he going to reconcile with Marian? Had they changed their minds? He wouldn't consider a residential… "You're not considering--" She stopped herself, dipping her head to catch his gaze. He wouldn't, would he? "You're not going to put her in a residential program, are you?" She waited, her lungs burning for the breath she refused to take. If he said "yes," all her respect for him, and all her hope for Raphaela would be lost.

"No. Well, maybe. Damn it, I don't know what to do."

She didn't want to pity him, pity was such a pointless emotion, but it was hard not to. He looked miserable, and she didn't see how she could help him. Not knowing what else to say, she asked, "What about Marian?"

"We talked last night. It was something neither of us wanted, as it turns out."

Her heart hitched. She nodded. "You said you had a proposition?"

His expression brightened. "I want you to live with me."

Another stunner! She stared at him. Was he serious? "Live with you?" she stammered. Then her ability to speak escaped her entirely. Her stomach lurched, and she considered a hasty retreat to the bathroom again. Damn ulcer!

"It's not what you think, at least not what I think you think." He smiled. "I want to pay you."

"Now I'm really confused. Pay me?" Then, she leaned forward and whispered, "Precisely what for?"

He laughed, the sound charming and annoying at the same time. She was glad he found this conversation amusing, since she found it confounding. "I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot. Let me try this again. I want to hire you to help me with Ella--be a live in nanny-slash-therapist."

Her lungs filled again for the first time in minutes, and her dizziness settled. She laughed at her own foolishness, and secretly wept at her disappointment. If he wasn't going to remarry Marian, what was holding him back? After everything, why did he only want a professional relationship with her?

"Oh God, how stupid of me. Of course, you wouldn't need to pay for--" She stopped, unable to finish the sentence, and afraid of what she might say next.

He continued, seeming to ignore her last comment. "I have a nice mother-in-law suite over the garage. It's huge, eight hundred square feet, and private, with its own kitchen and bathroom. Plus, you would have free access to the house and the pool."

Well, that part sounded good, although it wasn't what she'd hoped to hear. If only he could let himself see her as more than a therapist.

"I can pay you--" he hesitated, studying her. "What's fair, say, thirty-five?"

Her mind was foggy, and his words were getting stuck. "Thirty-five?"

"Thirty-five thousand, plus free rent and utilities. You can buy your own food if you like or eat at the house. I have a cook Monday through Friday, and she's wonderful."

The job part sounded too good to be true, and she'd learned long ago that meant it probably was. "What's the hitch?"

He chuckled. "No hitch. I'd expect you to work with Ella in the playroom during the day, and at night, when I'm home, I’ll take over."

"When you're at home. That's pretty vague. Care to be more specific? I like to know exactly what I'm agreeing to before I commit."

"You’re a tough customer," he said, his smile growing broader, reaching his eyes at last. "Monday through Wednesday and Friday, I'm home by six. Thursday is my late night--I'm in the office until nine. And then I'm on-call two weekends a month and nights on alternating weeks."

Now she could see why he needed a live-in nanny. His was a typical doctor's schedule--hell. Would she mind being alone with Raphaela so many hours a day? The loss of freedom to come and go as she wished. The responsibility. The forced closeness to Garret, when he was obviously denying the chemistry between them. How would she handle their personal relationship, her feelings, if he were her boss? It was a lot to think about.

"Well?" His body appeared to gain strength as he sat straight again, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table between them.

At Mountain Rise, she'd told him she wanted to be his friend. That decision had been based upon a number of facts: first, he was in the process of repairing his marriage. Second, he wouldn't have time to pursue a relationship with her. Her commitment to stick to that wouldn't have been difficult with miles between them, and a wife. But now, everything had changed. And if she lived with him, saw him every day, worked for him… Oh God, what should she do?

"Look, you don't need to tell me right now, but I need to know soon. Tomorrow, I have to go to work, and I'll hire a temp, but I don't want to use one for long. It's not fair to Ella. Plus, I need to get the playroom designed and built, and--" He paused, his eyes meeting hers. "I was hoping you would help me."

"You don't assume much." She wanted to laugh but couldn't. He'd obviously come convinced she would agree to his proposal, and that made her even more leery. "I need some time to think about this."

"Fine. Will you call me later today?"

He wasn't impatient, was he? "Wow, no pressure there." She stood. "All right, then. Later today."

"Would you like to see the house first? Check it out before you give me an answer? I could have Marge whip up something special for lunch."

How would she be able to think if he filled the next twelve hours with temptation? He was scheming, although in a cute sort of way. "I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work. I'll call you later."