Home to Eden (16 page)

lt's a fact that life's most significant moments are rarely recognized at the time they occur. It's only hindsight that reveals the instant at which your world rearranged itself. Like Carl Sandburg's fog, change often came on little cat feet, unnoticed, unsuspected. But stealth made it no less powerful. Of course, some events are so powerful you know immediately that life will never be the same.

For Kate, the death of her mother when she was twelve had been such a moment. In an instant, everything had changed. But even then, it had been months before she'd realized the extent of the change, before she'd been forced to face—and accept—her father's inherent weakness. That had been the moment when she'd left the greater portion of childhood behind.

Years later, she'd made a conscious decision to rearrange her life when she chose to settle in Eden and put down roots for the first time in her life.

If she'd thought about it, she might have been vaguely disturbed to realize that accepting Gareth's proposal did not seem to be a profoundly life-altering moment. It seemed too much of a natural progression, as if it was part of a carefully guided pattern.

But those immeasurable seconds when she'd watched Nick heal a child's wound with nothing more than his bare hands were not part of any pattern Kate understood. Nor could Gareth offer any clear explanation.

"It's something that appeared a few months after Brian was killed," he said when she finally gathered her thoughts together enough to ask just what it was she'd witnessed. "Nick was in the car with him when a tire blew. Brian lost control. He...he never regained consciousness."

He stopped, his throat working as he stared intently out the windshield. Kate remained silent, allowing him time to deal with the memories.

They were parked in front of her apartment building, and her hesitant question about what had happened was nearly the first thing either of them had said since they left the cabin. The drive out of the mountains had been almost totally silent, both of them too drained by the events of the afternoon to discuss them.

Nick had walked away from the scene in the clearing, gotten on the Harley and left without bothering to gather his things from the house, without saying anything to anyone. Jack and Susan were still shaken by the knowledge that they'd nearly lost their son, and both children had been exhausted. No one had protested when Kate suggested cutting the visit short.

"For a while, it looked like we might lose Nick, too," Gareth said finally. He kept his eyes on the darkness outside the car. "He actually died on the operating table and was gone for a couple of minutes before they managed to get his heart going again. Who knows, maybe that was what gave him this... this ability." He lifted one shoulder. "I've heard all kinds of weird claims from people who died and then were revived."

"But this...whatever it is... this isn't a claim," Kate said. "I saw it happen. I saw Nick lay his hands on Matt's leg and...and heal him. It's real."

"It's real," Gareth agreed. The words sounded as if they were dragged from him. "It's not predictable, though. It works sometimes but not others, and he doesn't know which it will be at any given moment."

"It worked today." Her voice was husky with remembered awe. "Matt probably would have died without him. It was like...like watching a miracle. I don't understand why you've never mentioned this," she said, shaking her head in bewilderment. "It's so incredible."

"That's why I didn't mention it." He shifted restlessly in his seat, muttering a curse when he banged his elbow against the steering wheel. "When we— my parents and I—realized that Nick had this... this gift, we decided that we should do everything we could to keep it in the family. We didn't want the media getting hold of this and treating him like some kind of freak. You know what they would do with something like this."

The thought made her shudder. ''I can imagine. But I still don't understand why you didn't tell me. You can't think I'd call a press conference about it."

"No, of course not!" He reached out and caught her hand. "It wasn't a matter of trust. I guess it was partly habit. It's not something we talk about much, not even amongst ourselves. I did start to tell you once or twice but it's... Well, it's kind of hard to explain. This is my younger brother, Nick, and by the way, he works miracles?"

His effort to lighten the moment drew only a halfhearted smile, and he sighed and squeezed her hand before releasing it. "I guess it didn't seem all that relevant," he admitted. "Nick wasn't even home. No one knew if he'd ever come home again. And it isn't like he goes around healing people left and right. It's never been a regular part of our lives. It's just something that happens now and again."

''I understand," Kate said, but she didn't, really. Oh, she understood why Gareth hadn't told her about

Nick's abilities. She could hardly blame him for keeping secrets. God knew, she had more than a few of her own, some of them involving his brother. What she didn't understand was what she'd seen today. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that she'd witnessed an honest-to-God miracle, and the idea of that left her feeling restless and unsettled.

The feeling lingered long after she'd given Gareth a chaste kiss good-night and gone into her apartment. He didn't suggest spending the night, and she didn't ask him to come in. She needed to be alone, needed to sort through the day's events and try to make sense of them.

But long after he was gone, she was still pacing her small apartment, moving restlessly from room to room, unable to settle in one place for more than a moment. She kept thinking about Nick. What was he feeling now? Was he exultant that he'd saved Matt's life?

Thinking of that instant when their eyes had met and she'd felt almost as if she was seeing into his soul increased Kate's restlessness. He'd looked so alone when he walked away. So lonely. Had he sought out Harry's company when he got home to Spider's Walk? Or was he all alone in that big house? Or had he gone somewhere else entirely?

"It's none of your business," she muttered, but she couldn't shake the memory of those few seconds when it had seemed as if they'd communicated, not as one human to another or even as man to woman but as soul to soul.

"Forget it," she told herself. "Just forget it."

It was crazy to come here, Kate thought. Crazy to be standing on Nick's doorstep at almost midnight. He was probably asleep. She could see a light behind the living room curtains, but that didn't mean anything.

And even if he was still awake, she had no business being here. So what if she thought she'd seen pain in his eyes in that last moment before he'd turned away? It wasn't her place to soothe that pain. She wasn't his mother, his wife or even his lover.

Kate stared at the cracked paint on the door. She didn't know why she'd come here, didn't even really remember making the decision. One minute she'd been staring at the pages of a book, the next she'd been getting in her truck. She hadn't really thought about what she was doing until now. If she was honest, she'd have to admit that she'd been careful not to think. It wasn't until she was standing on the sagging front porch, face-to-face with the fanciful carvings on the door Nick had yet to refinish, that a small voice of reason made itself heard.

Hadn't she decided that Nick was a threat to everything she'd worked to build these last few years, to everything she wanted in her life? She should turn around and go straight home, forget she'd ever come here. She'd forget everything she knew about the losses Nick had suffered, forget the power that had radiated from him when he'd set his hands on Matthew's leg this afternoon. And most of all, she'd forget the aching emptiness she'd seen in his eyes just before he'd turned and walked away.

But as if from somewhere outside herself, Kate saw her hand come up and watched her finger press the doorbell. She heard the two-tone chime of the bell inside the house. There was still time to turn and walk away, she thought, feeling her heart suddenly beating much too quickly. Time to go home, where she should have stayed in the first place.

But then the door was opening, and there was no time after all.

Nick stood in the open doorway, looking at her. He was wearing the same clothes he'd had on at the cabin—faded blue jeans and an old gray T-shirt. Kate remembered how guilty she'd felt for noticing the way the fabric clung to the solid muscles of his shoulders and chest. Now, looking at the rusty smears of blood streaked across the worn denim, she felt her throat tighten with emotion.

"Kate." He said only her name, his voice flat and empty, offering no clue to his thoughts.

She forced her eyes upward, looking at him. His hair tumbled onto his forehead in thick, dark waves, as if he'd run his fingers through it again and again.

His expression was as unreadable as his voice, drained of emotion, closed and unwelcoming.

"How are you?" The banal words seemed to hang on the warm night air and she felt herself flushing even before she saw Nick's brows go up.

"I'm fine. And you?" The studied politeness mocked her concern.

Obviously, he wasn't anxious for visitors. She shouldn't have come but, now that she was here, she couldn't go without trying to tell him how she felt.

"I wanted to tell you that what happened today was—"

"Came to see if I knew any other parlor tricks, did you?" he interrupted, his voice sharp and mocking. "Are you wondering if I read tea leaves or hoping to see me bend a spoon with the force of my mind? Sorry, Kate. I don't particularly like tea, and the only interesting trick I can do with a spoon is balance it on the end of my nose. I'm afraid you'll have to take my word on that, though, because I'm not really in the mood to demonstrate."

He started to shut the door, started to close her out and close himself in alone. Kate was shocked to feel the flat of her hand braced against the solid panel, preventing him from closing it. Her eyes were on Nick's face, and for an instant she saw emotion flicker in his eyes, as if he was as surprised as she was by her action.

"I'd like to come in," she said quietly.

"I'm not good company right now."

"Please."

His fingers tightened over the edge of the door, the knuckles showing white. She thought he might shut the door in her face but then he seemed to change his mind, not as if he welcomed her company but as if it wasn't worth the effort to fight her.

"Have it your way," he said with a shrug and then turned and walked away, leaving her to follow him or not.

Kate hesitated, aware of a small voice that warned her to turn and walk away before it was too late. Too late for what? she wondered, but there was no answer and she stepped across the threshold and pushed the door shut behind her.

The tiled entryway was empty. Nick hadn't bothered to see if she followed him. He'd gone into the front parlor. The room must have been elegant once. Faded flowers peaked out from the wallpaper and were still faintly visible on the long drapes. The finish on the floor was worn, but the beauty of the red oak boards showed through that wear. Nick had apparently designated this room as a storage area while he worked on the rest of the house. Cans of paint were stacked neatly along one wall. A pile of lumber stood next to the paint. Plastic drop cloths were tossed carelessly beside a battered tool chest.