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“I’ll carry your bags,” he said, putting his offer into practice. “Is there anything else you need?”
She followed him down the hall.A do-over? A time machine? Some kind of patch for the scary hole in my chest?
When he came back out into the hall after arranging her luggage at the foot of her bed, she managed a smile. “Not a thing. I appreciate all you’ve done for me today.”
Harry didn’t smile in return. If anything, a frown shadowed his gaze. “My place is huge,” he said. “You can stay as long as you like. I won’t even notice you’re here.”
That statement should have reassured her. After all, the situation was anything but normal. Still, his words made her feel even more alone.
Her throat was tight, but she managed a reply. “Thank you,” she said. She eased past him, entered her borrowed bedroom and closed the door.
Three
Cate huddled under the covers and blindly watched HGTV until her eyes crossed. At 2:00 a.m., she finally slept. The few times she woke up, she went to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and went right back to sleep.
In one of her college classes, she had learned about the stages of grief. Depending upon whom you studied, there were five or seven or even twelve. God help her, she hoped it was only five.
Already, she had skated past denial. That was Harry’s doing. He had made her confront the impossible by inviting Jason into his home. Now there was no way for Cate to pretend she might be able to turn this situation around.
Neither was bargaining a choice. If God heard her prayers, He or She was probably disappointed in Cate. After all, she had inconvenienced hundreds of people.
Now her dreams were in ruins. She had never beenlesssafe and secure. The last time she remembered feeling so lost and helpless was when her father closed the door of the station wagon as they prepared to leave Blossom Branch, and he impatiently told twelve-year-old Cate to stop crying.
She couldn’t blame herself for that awful day in the past. She was only a child. But this new disaster was different. She’d been so intent on protecting herself and her emotions, she’d been blind to reality. She was not the woman Jason wanted and needed in a wife. Even worse, she was letting a man she barely knew give her shelter.
Well, maybe that last one wasn’t entirely true. She knew Harry plenty well...from a distance. Something about him had always seemed intimidating, so she had kept a healthy no-man’s-land between them whenever their paths happened to cross.
Cate knew that Jason thought the world of Harry. Maybe it was why she had been willing to accept Harry’s sanctuary.
Or maybe Harry had been the only person who jumped in to help when her wedding imploded.
After a long, dream-ridden night, Cate woke up Sunday morning and—for a moment—forgot that her perfect life had derailed. When all the terrible details came rushing back, nausea churned in her gut.
The room-darkening drapes were drawn. The guest suite was gloomy. That suited her just fine. When she returned from the bathroom, she spotted a small white piece of paper that had been pushed under her door. The missive was covered in Harry’s dark, forceful scrawl...
The fridge is stocked. Help yourself to anything you want. I’ll be upstairs in my office if you need me...
She was hungry. But no way did she want to encounter her host. After listening at the door, she eased it open. When she convinced herself that Harry must indeed be upstairs, she scuttled into the kitchen.
Like a timid mouse trying to avoid a large, hungry cat, Cate quickly foraged for enough supplies to last her through the day. Gourmet cheese, fancy crackers, bananas and nuts and grapes. And an assortment of flavored waters and teas. Her arms were full, but she made it back to her room undetected.
The guest suite had a small refrigerator. That was handy.
Because she really did feel hungry, she tried to eat a few cashews and half a banana. Soon, the food swirled unpleasantly in her stomach.
Without warning, the tears started again.
She climbed into bed, pulled the covers over her head and went back to sleep.
That pattern carried her into the week. She wanted to feel anger, wanted to know she was healing. Then again, maybe it was naive and immature to think she couldwillherself through the grieving process.
She would be the first to say that her life while growing up had been golden. Other than losing a pet or two—and having to move from Blossom Branch—she had never really faced heartbreak. Fate must have decided it was time to catch up on several back payments.
Monday morning brought a second note with a cell number.
I have to go into the office. Will be there most of the day. Several colleagues flying in from out of town. Text me anytime.
Though Cate had made a point of avoiding her host, hearing that he was gone gave her a hollow feeling. Knowing he had been close by in the past forty-eight hours had given her a sense of security.
