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“He’s right, Dad. I shouldn’t have buried my pain. Heaven only knows how long I would’ve stayed in Africa if it hadn’t been for the rebels. I was hiding from life and it got to be downright comfortable.”
“I realize I’m being selfish, but I hate to see you move out so soon.”
Molly hugged her father, grateful for his love and support. He was all she had left in the world now. It was the same way it’d been from the time she was eleven, just the two of them.
Once Molly decided what she was going to do, it didn’t take her more than a week to find a nursing job and an apartment. She moved several pieces of furniture from Jordan’s, along with a number of personal items.
She made sure she went to the house when there wasn’t any chance of running into him. For courtesy’s sake, she left him notes, listing what she’d taken. She also gave him her new address.
The duplex she’d rented was in a friendly neighborhood and included a small yard. Molly loved roses and was looking forward to planting some once she was completely settled.
The apartment was roomy with two large bedrooms, a good-sized kitchen and a comfortable living room. It wasn’t home yet, but it would be once she’d arranged everything the way she wanted. Compared to her quarters in Africa, the duplex was a mansion. The best thing about her new home was that she wasn’t far from either Lake Michigan or her work at Sinai Hospital.
Molly was dressed in cutoffs and a sleeveless T-shirt, placing books inside the bookcase, when the doorbell rang. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her arm and got to her feet.
She suddenly felt dizzy and collapsed onto the sofa, taking deep, even breaths. A moment passed before the world righted itself once more.
Whoever was at the door punched the bell again, this time in short, impatient bursts. No one she knew rang a bell like that except Jordan Larabee.
Standing, she composed herself and walked over to the front door. Jordan had a box braced against theside of the duplex, holding it beneath his good arm and having difficulty doing so. “It took you long enough,” he said gruffly.
“Sorry,” she said, opening the screen door. Jordan walked in and dropped the box on the carpet next to the one she was unloading into the bookcase.
“You forgot this,” he said.
The dizziness returned and Molly slumped onto the arm of the sofa and pressed her hands against her face.
“Are you all right?” Jordan asked, his expression concerned. “You’re as pale as a sheet.”
“I …don’t know. I must’ve gotten up too quickly. Everything started to spin for a minute there… I’m fine now.”
“You’re sure?”
“Listen, Jordan, I’m a registered nurse. I may not know a lot aboutsomethings, but I do know when I’m healthy—and I tell you I’m fine.”
“Good.” He shoved his hand into his pants pocket and walked around the room, surveying the duplex. “What does Ian think about all this?”
“My moving? Well, he’d rather I stayed with him for the rest of my life, but I’d prefer to live on my own.” She surveyed the contents of what he’d brought and didn’t find anything that warranted his visit. She could have picked it up the following day, or whenever she made her next trip to the house.
Jordan strolled into the kitchen. “Do you mind if I get myself something to drink?”
“Go ahead.” Apparently there was more on his mind than helping her move, otherwise he wouldn’t bemaking excuses to stay. “There’s lemonade in the refrigerator. I’m afraid I don’t have anything stronger.”
“Lemonade’s fine.” He got a glass from the cupboard, a beautiful crystal one they’d received as a wedding gift from her aunt Catherine a thousand years ago. He paused, his hand cupped around the base of the glass.
Molly moved one step forward. “I hope you don’t mind that I took those glasses… They weren’t specifically listed in the agreement. I didn’t think it’d matter.”
“Why should I care about a few glasses?”
“You looked as if you might object.”
“I don’t,” he said. “I was just thinking about the last time we used them—Christmas, wasn’t it?” He stopped abruptly and shook his head. “Never mind, it isn’t important.” He filled the glass with lemonade and carried it into the living room, where he sat down on the sofa, balancing his ankle on the opposite knee. He stretched his arm across the back of the sofa and appeared to be at ease.
Molly felt anything but relaxed. She sat on the ottoman facing him, hands pressed between her knees, waiting. Clearly there was something he wanted to say.
He took a sip of the lemonade. “How have you been?”
“Fine, and you?”
