Hometown Sweetheart. Victoria Pade

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t we go inside?” Neily suggested after her brother headed for his car.

      “How is my grandmother? Is she okay? The social worker in Missoula said she was no worse for wear, but her mental state is fragile and she isn’t exactly young. Even so, this was an amazing thing for her to do—my brother, sister and I still can’t believe she did it.”

      Neily judged it a positive sign that he was so concerned for Theresa. She led him and the caregiver into the house.

      “The Missoula caseworker didn’t mislead you. Theresa is okay as far as I can tell—not knowing anything about how she was before this,” Neily said. “‘None the worse for wear’is probably accurate.”

      “I want to apologize for no one in the family getting here immediately when authorities reached me on Thursday,” Wyatt Grayson said as Neily closed the door behind them. “My sister was in Mexico dealing with a fire in a factory we have down there. She hated leaving at a time like this, but it was an emergency situation and we needed someone there. My brother was with the police in Canada—someone had read about Gram’s disappearance and thought he’d try to cash in on it by calling in a ransom demand, and we had to take it seriously. I was alone in Missoula with all the commotion of the search there. Once I was told where Gram was, it seemed like Human Services bogged down Mary Pat and me with so many questions and so much red tape that it was as if they were purposely tying us up in Missoula to keep us from rushing down here. It’s been a nightmare.”

      “I’m sure,” Neily said.

      She didn’t tell him that he was right, that the caseworker in Missoula had purposely delayed him until it seemed relatively clear that harm wasn’t likely to come to Theresa through contact with either him or with Theresa’s nurse. “Once the police realized that your grandmother was here, I was brought in and I’ve been looking after her ever since, so there wasn’t any hurry.”

      “Still, I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression—we’ve all been crazy-worried about Gram and would have been here in a heartbeat if we could have.”

      Neily led the two new arrivals from the entry into the living room.

      “Where is Gram?” Wyatt Grayson asked, glancing around in search of his grandmother.

      “Why don’t you and Ms. Gordman—”

      “Mary Pat,” the larger woman said, her first words.

      “Why don’t you and Mary Pat have a seat and I’ll try to get Theresa down here to see you? She’s been in the bedroom all day and I’d like her to come out if she’s willing,” Neily told them.

      Neither the nurse nor the grandson accepted the invitation to sit, and Neily’s impression was that they were both too concerned about Theresa to relax. That, too, seemed like a good indication they truly cared for the woman.

      Neily excused herself and retraced her steps to the entryway, climbing the stairs to the second level.

      She knocked lightly on the door of the master suite but didn’t wait for a response from inside. She’d already learned that more often than not Theresa was too lost in her own world to even hear the knock.

      Neily had predicted that Theresa would be sitting in the rocking chair and that was exactly where the older woman was, rocking back and forth as if the motion soothed her, staring at nothing in particular.

      Theresa Hobbs Grayson was a relatively small woman—a full four inches shorter than Neily’s five-foot-four-inch height. But she was somewhat rounder than Neily, who didn’t carry many extra pounds. Theresa’s salt-and-pepper-hued hair was cut short and neat, and while her gray eyes didn’t hold the luster and life and different play of colors that her grandson’s did, it struck Neily that Wyatt had inherited his own sparkling gray eyes from his grandmother. Along with his good looks, because Theresa was an attractive older woman.

      “Theresa?” Neily said quietly when she didn’t show any notice that Neily had come into the room.

      “Mikayla?” the older woman said when she did glance up.

      “No, remember? It’s Neily.”

      “Yes—Neily. I made that mistake again, didn’t I?” the older woman said vaguely.

      “Your grandson Wyatt is downstairs,” Neily told her, watching closely for the woman’s reaction.

      It was another positive sign that Theresa brightened at that news—her eyes, her face, even her posture perked up.

      “My Wyatt?” she repeated happily.

      “And Mary Pat…”

      “Mary Pat, too?” Theresa asked as if that were the frosting on the cake.

      But then she sobered and became pensive again. “They haven’t come to make me leave, have they? I can’t go away from here. I won’t. Not till I get what’s mine!”

      “I know. And, no, your grandson and Mary Pat aren’t going to make you leave. They’ll be staying here with you.”

      “They will?”

      That sounded pleased and hopeful rather than fearful—something else Neily took note of.

      “Will that be all right? For them to stay here in the house with you? Even if I leave?”

      “Oh, yes. And they’ll help me. I know they will. They’ll help me get back what’s mine. My Wyatt takes care of everything while Mary Pat takes care of me. They’re very good to me, my little darlings.”

      “Would you like to come downstairs and say hello to them?”

      “To Wyatt and Mary Pat and no one else?”

      “Everyone else is gone. And the house looks so much better—you should see the good things that were done today while you were up here.”

      “I’d like to see Wyatt and Mary Pat.”

      “Let’s go down then.”

      Theresa had no problem rising from the rocking chair or accompanying Neily down the steps. And the moment she caught sight of her grandson and caregiver, she passed Neily to hurry into the living room and hug them both like a child thrilled to see her loving parents after a separation. Clearly the older woman had no fear of either Wyatt Grayson or Mary Pat Gordman. It helped to confirm for Neily what the Missoula caseworker had said—that it was okay to turn Theresa’s daily care over to them again while her situation, living conditions and ability to live at least somewhat independently were looked into.

      “Oh, my dears, my dears! I’m so glad to see you!” Theresa was gushing. “But, Wyatt, where are Mikayla and the baby? Didn’t you bring them? I still haven’t seen that baby!”

      Neily’s interest got even stronger as she watched Wyatt Grayson’s expression tense before he said, “Remember, Gram—Mikayla and the baby died.”

      Theresa pressed her fingertips to her cheeks on both sides of her face. “I’m sorry! I forgot again. I’m sorry, Wyatt, I’m sorry.”

      “Me, too. СКАЧАТЬ