A Certain Hope. Lenora Worth

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СКАЧАТЬ you falling sick on us, too,” he reminded her. “Did you come home to help or to wallow in self-pity?”

      She tried to slap him, but Reed could see she was so exhausted that it had mostly been for show. Without a word, he lifted her up into his arms and stomped out of the room, motioning with his head for the hovering nurse to go in and do her duty.

      “Put me down,” April said, the words echoing out over the still, dark house as she struggled against Reed’s grip.

      “I will, in the kitchen, where Flora left you some soup and bread. And you will eat it.”

      “Still bossing me around,” she retorted, her eyes flashing. But as he moved through the big house with her, she stopped struggling. Her head fell against the cotton of his T-shirt, causing Reed to pull in a sharp breath. She felt so warm, so soft, so vulnerable there against him, that he wanted to sit down and hold her tight forever.

      Instead, he dropped her in a comfortable, puffy-cushioned chair in the breakfast room, then told her, “Stay.”

      She did, dropping her head on the glass-topped table, her hands in her hair.

      “I’m going to heat your soup.”

      “I can’t eat.”

      “You need to try.”

      She didn’t argue with that, thankfully.

      Soon he had a nice bowl of tortilla soup in front of her, along with a tall glass of Flora’s famous spiced tea and some corn bread.

      Reed sat down at the table, his own tea full of ice and lemon. “Eat.”

      She glared over at him, but picked up the spoon and took a few sips of soup. Reed broke off some of the tender corn bread and handed it to her. “Chew this.”

      April took the crusty bread and nibbled at it, then dropped it on her plate. “I’m done.”

      “You eat like a bird.”

      “I can’t eat,” she said, the words dropping between them. “I can’t—”

      “You can’t bear to see him like that? Well, welcome to the club. I’ve watched him wasting away for the last year now. And I feel just as helpless as you do.”

      She didn’t answer, but he saw the glistening of tears trailing down her face.

      Letting out a breath of regret, Reed went on one knee beside her chair, his hand reaching up to her face to wipe at tears. “I’m sorry, April. Sorry you have to see him like this. But…he wants to die at home. And he wanted you to be here.”

      She bobbed her head, leaning against his hand until Reed gave in and pulled her into his arms. Falling on both knees, he held her as she cried there at the table.

      Held her, and condemned himself for doing so.

      Because he’d missed holding her. Missed her so much.

      And because he knew this was a mistake.

      But right now, he also knew they both needed someone to hold.

      “It’s hard to believe my mother’s been dead twelve years,” April said later. After she’d cried and cried, Reed had tried to lighten things by telling her he was getting a crick in his neck, holding her in such an awkward position, him on his knees with her leaning down from her chair.

      They had moved to the den and were now sitting on the buttery-soft leather couch, staring into the light of a single candle burning in a huge crystal hurricane lamp on the coffee table.

      Reed nodded. “It’s also hard to believe that each of those years brought your father down a little bit more. It was like watching granite start to break and fall away.”

      “Granite isn’t supposed to break,” she said as she leaned her head back against the cushiony couch, her voice sounding raw and husky from crying.

      “Exactly.” Reed propped his booted foot on the hammered metal of the massive table. “But he did break. He just never got over losing her.”

      “And then I left him, too.”

      As much as he wanted to condemn her for that, Reed didn’t think it would be kind or wise to knock her when she was already so down on herself. “Don’t go blaming yourself,” he said. “You did what you’d always dreamed of doing. Stuart was—is—so proud of you. You should be proud of your success.”

      “I am proud,” she said, her laughter brittle. “So very proud. I knew he was lonely when I left, Reed. But I was too selfish to admit that.”

      “He never expected you to sacrifice your life for his, April. Not the way I expected things from you.”

      “But he needed me here. Even though she’d been dead for years, he was still grieving for my mother. He never stopped grieving. And now…it’s too late for me to help him.”

      “You’re here now,” Reed said, his own bitterness causing the statement to sound harsh in the silent house.

      April turned to stare over at him. “How do you feel about my being back?”

      Her directness caught him off guard. Reed could be direct himself when things warranted the truth. But he wasn’t ready to tell her exactly how being with her made him feel. He wasn’t so sure about that himself.

      “It’s good to have you here?” he said in the form of a question, a twisted smile making it sound lightweight.

      “Don’t sound so convincing,” she said, grimacing. “I know you’d rather be anywhere else tonight than sitting here with me.”

      “You’re wrong on that account,” he told her, being honest about that, at least. “You need someone here. This is going to be tough and I…I promised your daddy I’d see you through it.”

      That brought her up off the couch. “So you’re only here as a favor to my father? Out of some sense of duty and sympathy?”

      “Aren’t those good reasons—to be helping out a friend?”

      “Friend?” She paced toward the empty fireplace, then stood staring out into the starlit night. “Am I still your friend, Reed?”

      He got up to come and stand beside her. “Honestly, I don’t know what you are to me—I mean, we haven’t communicated in a very long time, on any level. I just know that Stuart Maxwell is like a second father to me and because of that, I will be here to help in whatever way I can. And yes, I’d like to think that we can at least be friends again.”

      “But you’re only my friend because you promised my father?”

      “Since when did this go from the real issue—a man dying—to being all about you and your feelings?”

      “I know what the real issue is,” she said, her words stony and raw with emotion. “But since you practically admitted you’re doing this only out of the goodness of your heart,” she countered, turning to stalk toward the hallway, “I just want you to СКАЧАТЬ