A Mother's Love (20 page)

Careful!
Christa worried, but her daughter looked radiant at taking those few hesitant steps.

“Look! My balance is better,” she exclaimed, her words almost perfectly clear.

“You're doing great,” Jace encouraged her. “Just a couple more.”

She moved toward him, her arms as wide as her smile. She turned her head to make sure Christa and Ellen were watching, and in that instant something happened. Christa wasn't certain whether Hope lost her balance or her legs gave out. Either way, she started to fall and Jace rushed forward to catch her. Their foreheads collided with a loud thud, but he managed to keep her from tumbling to the floor.

“Ow,” Jace said with a laugh. “You've got one hard head, young lady. Are you okay?”

She didn't answer, and Christa, already half out of her seat, jumped the rest of the way, her instincts humming.

The instant she had a clear view of Hope in Jace's arms she knew what was happening. Hope's head lolled backward and her arms twitched violently.

The impact of their heads colliding must have triggered one of Hope's seizures. They had become much less frequent since the initial brain injury, but the signs were still unmistakable.

Ellen knew, as well, and both of them rushed into action.

“Lay her on the couch,” Christa ordered.

He complied, then stood by while Ellen arranged her limbs safely and Christa tilted her head to make sure she had a clear airway.

“What time did it start?” Christa demanded.

“Eight-oh-six,” her mother said promptly. “I'll get the DIASTAT.”

“Okay, but let's wait a couple minutes and see if she comes out on her own.”

Oh, she hated this. Of all the trials Hope faced since her accident, the damn seizures were the worst—especially the gnawing fear that Hope would suffer more brain damage after a particularly bad one.

She brushed wispy blond hair out of Hope's eyes, aching inside at all her child had to endure.

“What can I do?” Jace stood beside the couch, his features pale beneath his tan.

“Nothing,” she bit out.
Haven't you done enough?
“Just go home.”

“I can't leave until I know she'll be okay.”

Hope wasn't okay. She hadn't been since that instant last December when their world changed forever.

This was his fault. He was pushing her too hard. Why hadn't he been more careful? He was overstimulating Hope just by his presence, stirring her up, making her take dangerous risks she wasn't ready for.

Christa knew her anger was irrational—the fall had been an accident that could just as easily have happened when Christa or Ellen or one of the other aides was working with Hope. Some part of her knew she was only looking for a convenient excuse to push him away. As far as she was concerned, this definitely fit the bill.

Ellen returned with the DIASTAT before Christa could snap at him to get out of the way and let her take care of her daughter the only way she knew how. Her mother held it out in her hand that only trembled a little, but Christa shook her head.

“I don't think we'll need it. I think she's coming out of it.”

“Oh, good!” Ellen breathed.

“What time is it?”

“Eight-twelve,” her mother answered promptly.

Six minutes. It wasn't the longest seizure she'd ever had, but, as always, each second seemed an eternity.

“We'd better get her into her bed. She'll be postictal for a while.”

“What's that?” Jace asked.

Christa didn't want to take time to answer him, but Ellen did it for her. “It's a postseizure state. Almost semiconscious. Seizures exhaust the system, and Hope usually sleeps for a long time after she has one.”

He seemed overwhelmed by the information, but he nodded. “I'll carry her into her bed.”

Before Christa could object, he scooped Hope into his arms without effort and carried her through the doorway to her bedroom.

“I can handle things from here,” Christa said. After a moment, he nodded and slipped out of the room, and she quickly changed Hope into a nightgown, administered her evening meds through her G-tube and checked her vital signs.

When she returned to the family room, she found Ellen and Jace sitting together on the couch. His eyes were dark, haunted.

“It's absolutely not your fault, my dear,” Ellen said in her serene voice, patting his hand. She spied Christa. “Tell him, sweetheart. Jace isn't to blame, is he?”

She was so angry at the world, at fate, at
him.
Though she knew it was harsh of her, she couldn't bring herself to answer, and her silence was condemnation enough.

Ellen frowned at her but said nothing. If possible, Jace looked even more upset.

“I should go.”

“Yes. You should.”

His mouth tightened, and this time Ellen narrowed her gaze. She opened her mouth, but Christa cut off her reprimand before she could utter it.

“I'll walk you out,” she said to Jace in a much gentler voice.

He rose and said goodbye to Ellen, then followed Christa outside. The evening had cooled considerably, typical for spring in the high desert valleys, and she shivered and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You really think the seizure is my fault?”

As much as she would have liked to confirm it, her conscience wouldn't let her, especially when she heard how upset he sounded.

“Maybe a little bit but not completely. Like Ellen said, Hope sometimes has seizures for no reason at all.” She paused. “You push her harder than my mother or I do. I'm not sure that's a bad thing. She's made great progress these last few weeks, in large part because of you.”

“That's something, I guess.”

“Yes.”

A cold breeze blew down out of the mountains and she shivered. “When are you leaving Sage Flats?” she finally asked.

 

G
REAT
. M
ORE GUILT TO
add to his plate. Jace let out a breath, playing for time. “Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered. You've already been here nearly a month. That's some kind of a record for you, isn't it?”

He grimaced. Yeah, it was. About three weeks longer than he usually stayed. “I didn't realize I had a time limit for staying at my own ranch.”

“You don't. Of course you don't.”

He sighed, not sure why he was suddenly so reluctant to tell her he had already made the decision to leave. He owed her honesty if nothing else.

“I'm due in Texas in a few days to meet with my business manager to look over some investments.”

She nodded, and he had the distinct impression she wasn't at all surprised. Was he sending out some kind of one-boot-out-the-door vibe?

“Are you coming back to Sage Flats?”

“I haven't figured that out yet. I'm sure I'll be back eventually.”

She crossed her arms even tighter around herself, a clear message that she wanted him to keep his distance. Better that way, he decided.

The silence stretched between them, tight and awkward now. He opened the door of his truck. Before he could climb inside, she spoke quickly, as if afraid she wouldn't be able to get the words out.

“I think it would be better for Hope if you stayed away between now and when you leave.”

Instant objections rose in his throat, even though he'd thought the exact same thing earlier in the evening. He hated the idea now as much as he had then.

The thought of his life without the three Sullivan women in it filled him with dread—Hope, with her endless courage, Ellen's quiet dignity and Christa.

He studied the woman in front of him. As always, her loveliness seemed to take his breath away, seemed to strike some elemental chord deep inside him.

Christa, with her slow smile and her green eyes and the steel core of strength that carried her through adversity.

He was in love with her.

He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, fighting with everything he had against the overwhelming need to pull her into his arms.

He definitely needed to get the hell away from Sage Flats.

“I'm sorry, Jace. I don't want you to think I don't appreciate all you've done. But it's going to be hard enough on Hope when you leave. I have to think about her best interests. I think this way is better.”

Better for whom? The absence of the three Sullivan women was going to leave a gaping hole in his life. Maybe she was right, though. Maybe it would be best to leave before he was in this too deep to climb back out.

“All right,” he said promptly. “I want to do what's best for Hope.”

“She loves you already, Jace. With every day you become more important to her. She's dealt with enough loss in her life. I can't bear to sit by and watch her deal with this, too.”

“Can I e-mail her? Call once in a while to see how she's doing?”

She shrugged. “I can't stop you. It might make this a little easier on her.”

“I guess this is goodbye, then.” His voice sounded ragged, raw, and he was stunned at the ball of emotions lodged in his throat. “Tell Hope and Ellen that for me, will you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. He saw in the moonlight the slender tracks of tears on her cheeks. Was she crying for Hope or for herself?

Did it matter?

He started to climb into his pickup, then froze. Before he could talk himself out of it, he climbed back out. In a single quick motion, he pulled her into his arms one last time.

She gasped his name when his mouth descended on hers, but she didn't yank away. Her mouth was soft beneath his, warm and sweet, and a deep wave of longing and regret and tenderness washed over him.

All too soon he knew he had to end it or he would never be able to leave. He wrenched his mouth away and brushed a thumb against one more tear trickling down her cheek.

“Goodbye,” he murmured.

This time when he climbed into his truck, he didn't climb out again. He just fired up the engine, backed out of her driveway, then drove away, fighting with everything he had not to look in his rearview mirror at what he was leaving behind.

T
WO DAYS LATER
, C
HRISTA
still felt as if all the joy and color had been sucked out of her world. The weather perfectly matched her mood, a gray, ugly day full of clouds but no rain.

At least rain might clear her head a little so she didn't feel this constant, grinding pressure, the fear that she'd made a terrible mistake.

She had to stop, had to snap out of this funk. Her work was suffering, she was short with Ellen and Hope and she couldn't seem to focus on anything but the aching emptiness of her life.

To her relief, Hope didn't seem to share her dark mood. At least not right this instant. Christa glanced in the rearview mirror, where Hope was peering out the window, anticipation on her features.

“Do you think Jace will be there?”

If she hadn't been driving, Christa would have closed her eyes and groaned. She had explained to Hope that Jace had to leave and he didn't know when—or if—he would be back. But the reality didn't seem to sink through with her daughter.

“I doubt it. He's probably already on his way to Texas.”

One more thing to fill her nights with guilt. Had she done
the right thing, trying to protect her daughter from future pain? Or had she pushed him away for purely selfish reasons, so she could insulate her own heart?

“I wonder when he'll be back.”

Christa sighed. “I don't know if he will, honey. I talked to you about this, remember?”

Hope made an exasperated face, looking so much like her typical teen self that Christa nearly drove off the road. “Mom, I'm not stupid. I can remember something we talked about yesterday.”

“Then you should remember that I said I didn't know if he would be back. He has many business interests away from Sage Flats that demand his attention.”

“He'll be back,” Hope said with complete assurance and Christa sighed heavily.

“Maybe. But you have to promise you won't be too disappointed if he's not.”

“He has three other houses. Did you know that?”

With the millions of other possible conversation topics, why did they have to continue talking about Jace? “No. I didn't know,” Christa answered, racking her brain for a way to change the subject.

“Yep. One in Houston, one in California, on the beach, and another ranch somewhere in Montana.”

To her relief, they reached the equine therapy center just then and she didn't have to scramble for a reply.

The next few minutes were busy taking out the wheelchair and transferring Hope, all while fighting a ridiculous flutter of anticipation that he might be inside the arena just like the first time they had come here.

But she was doomed to disappointment. No, it was relief, she told herself quickly after a scan of the building showed
no sign of a familiar lean, gorgeous cowboy with blue eyes and a black Stetson.

Instead Hank Stevens greeted them with his usual gruff warmth.

“No Jace?” Hope asked, and Christa saw with a pang that much of the light had left her features.

Hank rested a beefy hand on her shoulder. “No. Sorry, kid. He's catching a flight out tonight and had some things to do on the ranch before he left.”

“Oh.”

Compassion washed across his grizzled features, and his gaze flicked to Christa, then back to Hope. “You're gonna want to try to find a smile in there again, especially when you see the surprise he left for you.”

Some of her excitement returned. “What surprise?”

“You stay here. I'll be right back.”

He walked away, only to return a moment later leading a small sorrel mare with black markings.

As he approached, Hope caught her breath and clasped her hands together.

“What's this?” Christa asked, not quite believing what her instincts were already telling her.

“Jace picked out this pretty little mare for our girl here. He must have looked at two dozen horses before he found this one. She's the sweetest-tempered horse I've ever seen, with a smooth, easy gait that will be just perfect for Hope.”

“Mine?” Hope's eyes shone with the light of a thousand stars.

“You want her?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh,
yes!
”

“Her name's Milagra. Mila. It means
miracle
in Spanish.”

He bought Hope a horse? Her own Miracle? Christa stood
beside Hope's chair, trying her best to comprehend why he would do such a thing.

He had looked at dozens of horses, Hank said, until he'd found the perfect one. The idea of Jace taking such care and energy for her daughter—a girl she had ordered him to stay away from—sent her reeling, her emotions a wild, jumbled, choking mess inside her.

Oh, heavens. She loved him.

This was no crush, no mere physical attraction.

She was in love with Jace McCandless. And he was going to break her heart.

The rest of the therapy session passed in a blur. She was barely aware of her surroundings, only of the exuberant joy on Hope's features as she rode around the arena on her own horse.

Christa was still in a daze when Hank joined her at the railing.

“She's a real beauty, isn't she?”

She gave him a sidelong look. “The horse or my baby girl?”

Hank guffawed. “Take your pick. They're both winners in my book.”

She managed a smile, but it faded quickly. “We can't possibly accept such a gift, Hank. Surely you understand that.”

He held up his hands. “You're gonna have to take that up with McCandless. I'm just the middleman. I should tell you, though, he figured you'd say that and he told me to tell you the gift is nonnegotiable and nonreturnable. He suggested you leave her here and board her at our place while Hope still needs the horse therapy—that way your girl will have a warm, secure place to ride all year long until she's ready to take off on her own. He figured it would be safer that way, for a few more months, anyway.”

Christa closed her eyes, overwhelmed all over again.

“And don't you worry about the cost of boarding her or the cost of Hope's therapy. You've got enough on your plate. That's all been taken care of.”

Jace again. She knew he must have worked things out with Hank. She had ordered him out of their lives, but somehow he had still managed to find a way to have a lasting impact.

She wanted to sit right there in the hay and heaven knows what else and just sob.

“How can I accept such a gift?”

Hank patted her hand, and the compassion in his eyes brought those tears ever closer to the surface. “It's not for you, is it? It's for Hope.”

That seemed to say everything. Yes, his gift had been for Hope. But she remembered that last searing kiss, the tenderness in it she hadn't dared let herself believe, and she knew some part of his gift had been for
her,
as well.

“He's a good man, isn't he?” she murmured, unable to take her eyes from Hope.

Hank was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally said. “His heart's always been in the right place. I think he just lost sight of that for a while. But you and Hope helped him find it again.”

He walked away, and she spent the rest of the hour trying to make sense of that. When Hope and Milagra approached the mounting block at the end of the session, Christa hurried to join them.

“I love her, Mom,” Hope gushed after she was helped off but before she transferred to her wheelchair. “She's beautiful. The best horse ever!”

To her surprise, Hope threw her arms around her mother and hugged her tight, and Christa returned the embrace, a lump in her throat.

She couldn't help remembering those tension-filled days before Hope's injury, when they seemed to fight about everything—much as Christa had done with her own mother when she had been Hope's age.

She could never look at the accident and its horrific consequences with anything resembling gratitude, but she had to admit many blessings had come into their lives they would have otherwise missed.

Her relationship with Hope had been forever changed. There was a bond between them that would never have been forged without the trials of the last five months.

She could say the same for her relationship with Ellen. Living in her mother's home as an adult had its challenges, but they were vastly outweighed by all they had gained. She had truly come to know her mother and had discovered a hundred things to admire in her—things she had always been too busy and too distracted to notice before.

Hope's accident had taught Christa just how intertwined her life was with so many others. Caregivers, therapists, medical professionals, wonderful neighbors, strangers who had reached out to them.

People like Jace, who had entered their lives completely by chance and had left them forever changed.

Hope was still glowing as Christa pushed her wheelchair out to the Liberty.

“I can transfer by myself,” she insisted, something she wouldn't have dared try a few weeks earlier.

After Christa broke apart the wheelchair and loaded it then climbed inside, Hope leaned forward from the backseat.

“Mom, I need to tell Jace thank you. I
have
to. Can we go to his ranch so I can tell him how much I love Mila?”

Christa swallowed hard, dreading the idea of seeing him again as much as she longed for it. She had already said goodbye to him and had thought that was the end of it. Would she have to do it all over again?

Yes. For Hope's sake, she would.

“Of course,” she murmured. “He might not be home, but we can try.”

“He'll be home,” Hope assured her. “I know he will.”

But Hope was wrong. Fifteen minutes later they stood on the front porch of his ranch house, a massive, gorgeous log-and-river-rock structure with soaring gables and a stunning view of the mountains.

“That's the third time we've rung the doorbell. I'm sorry, honey. I just don't think he's here.”

Hope slumped into one of the half dozen rocking chairs on the porch, tired out since she had walked up the three steps on her own. She stubbornly insisted on walking as much as she could now, to Christa's mingled dismay and pride.

“I thought for sure he would be home.”

“We can try to call him later.”

“It won't be the same.”

Maybe it was better this way, Christa thought, though she knew it was cowardly of her to want to avoid another meeting that would only end in heartbreak.

They sat for a moment in silence to let Hope catch her breath for the walk back down the porch, though Christa couldn't shake the awkward feeling they were trespassing, sitting here on the man's porch when he wasn't home.

“We should probably be going,” she finally said. “You have homework, right?”

“I guess.”

Hope needed much more help on the way down the steps
than she had on the way up. At the bottom she faltered a little and had to hang on to the railing.

“Do you want me to get the wheelchair?”

“No. I can make it. It's not far.”

As always, her daughter's determination humbled her. Everything would be okay, she told herself. Hope was as resilient as a tough willow sapling. Just look at her. She was walking again! If she could survive what should have been a fatal accident, surely Christa could endure her broken heart.

They were only a few steps from the Jeep when Hope's features suddenly brightened.

“Mom!” she exclaimed, looking off in the distance. “Look! Is that Jace?”

Her heart seemed to catch, but she followed Hope's gaze to find a rider on a magnificent bay heading toward them at a hard gallop.

The sun had burst through the clouds after they'd arrived at the ranch and now it caught in his dark hair, and he was staring at them in shock, and she suddenly couldn't breathe.

Her insides clutched in panic and she wanted to rush Hope into the vehicle and drive away again. But then she saw her daughter standing on shaky legs beside her and shame washed through her.

Hope had spent every single day since her accident demonstrating incredible courage and strength. Surely Christa could learn from her example and show a little courage of her own.

She loved Jace McCandless. She couldn't just let him walk out of their lives without a fight.

 

J
ACE STARED AT THE TWO
females standing in the spring sunshine.

If he'd still been drinking, he would have figured them
for a hallucination, brought on because he hadn't stopped thinking about them since he'd driven away from Ellen's house two days earlier.

He never would have expected to find them waiting for him when he returned from one last ride to work out the kinks before heading to the airport.

But here they were.

He slid from the horse and looped the reins loosely around the top rail of the fence, then started toward them.

To his shock, Hope took several steps toward him, completely unsupported by her mother.

“Look at you!” he exclaimed, meeting her halfway and pulling her into a hug.

“I've been practicing,” she said, a definite note of accomplishment in her voice. “My mom's been helping.”

“I'm so proud of you, Hope! You're going to be running races in no time.”

“As long as they're barrel races.”

He laughed and she hugged him, then stepped away, standing on her own.

“Thank you so much for the horse. I love her. She's so perfect. I rode her today all by myself.”

Aw, hell.
He'd forgotten all about the horse. That must be why they were there. He had really hoped to avoid a scene like this. He slanted a look at Christa and found her watching him out of those huge green eyes that seemed drenched with emotions he couldn't identify.

He wanted to shove his hands in his pockets, but he thought he might need them if Hope started to wobble.

“You're welcome. I hope she'll do until you can ride Shiloh again,” he finally said.