Chapter 14 #2
“Such as a choice I could make to…accept physical activities while in your care.” She didn’t even blink as she said the words.
Her gaze locked on his the entire time. “Were something to arise in that area, I do not want to hear anything about you taking advantage because I’m in your care or beside myself with fear or worry or grief.
Nor will I accept that my concurrence with your stipulations put us in a situation that opens the door to concerns about sex in the workplace, or any other possible moral or legal consequence you could see possibly arising in the future as a result of the…
activity…while I am under this safety agreement with you. ”
No smile cracking on that one. Not even a hint.
She was dead serious.
And the only response Mitchell could conjure up was…
A very slow nod.
Whaler hadn’t given even a hint of waking by nine that evening when the small ward went into lockdown for the night. Two nurses, an orderly and a police officer were all there just to watch over her father, and Dove had to be content with that.
A trauma doctor was on duty in the urgent care portion of the facility and would be checking in on their one inpatient. He assured Dove, just before she left with Mitchell, that he expected her father to rest peacefully through the night.
And that they’d call the second there was any change in his condition or hint of him waking up.
Knowing that she would be no good to her dad if she didn’t get some rest—most particularly after her mostly sleepless hours the night before—she gave him kisses on both cheeks. Told him she loved him. That she’d see him in the morning.
And then, with tears in her eyes, walked beside Mitchell out to his car.
“His vitals are good,” he said more as a reminder to her, she figured, than anything else.
“I know.”
“Tonight is better than last night. We know he’s alive. We know where he is. We know that he’s safe.”
She nodded. Taking in every practical, logical word.
Just as she’d forced herself to eat and swallow most of the salad he’d ordered in and had delivered from The Cove for dinner.
He wasn’t her mother. Or a guide. But he was doing a pretty impressive job of reminding her how to keep her head out of the sewer of fear trying to suck the life out of her.
But she was tired.
Had never felt so alone.
And needed to know, “Why are you doing this?”
“Walking you to my car? You know why.”
While, in a better state, she might have teased him about focusing so much on the literal, or in a worse one thought he was playing with her, Dove didn’t have the energy to engage in light conversation.
“I mean giving up your own schedule, your regularly scheduled life, to babysit me.”
They’d reached his car, and when she would have left his side to go to her door, while he opened his he grabbed her elbow lightly, shook his head, and said, “You get in with me.”
Without missing a beat, she did so, sliding over on the seat to allow him access behind the wheel, buckled herself in and prepared to sit through the ten-minute drive to his place in silence.
She’d asked a question that wasn’t factually based. He wasn’t going to answer. And she didn’t have the energy to fight him on it.
It wasn’t like his reasoning mattered all that much. He’d insisted on his role. She’d agreed to it. Case closed, Counselor.
Keeping her secure between his body and the car door, he’d checked the back seat before nudging her to get in.
And gave the same kind of intent concentration on watching all around them as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed down toward Main Street.
From there, a short jog west would take them out to his place.
Clint’s bar had the door open, with people milling inside.
Dove saw Oscar, sitting on his usual stool, and wondered if he’d heard about Whaler yet.
Mitchell had told her that the police were keeping things quiet, that the employees at St. James Boats had all been asked not to say anything until the police knew more.
Still, she almost asked Mitchell to stop long enough for her to have a word with her father’s young friend. Until she realized that maybe her need to connect with Oscar was more for her sake than his and reconsidered. Oscar had enough problems of his own.
And better that there were answers—and that Whaler was conscious with a good prognosis—before Oscar found out what had happened to him.
No way did she want to be responsible for driving the man to further drink.
Mitchell made the turn toward his place, keeping his eye on the rearview mirror as much as the windshield, and then seemed to relax.
She actually saw him settle back in the seat, his shoulders visibly relaxing.
And she knew. “You were afraid we were going to be followed.”
She should have figured that one out for herself.
“Afraid, no,” he said. “Aware of the possibility, absolutely.”
Which made her think of something else. “Let me guess, you have a pistol in the glove box.” They lived in rugged territory. There were a lot of nonhuman predators that could appear at any moment, making a gun the only difference between life and death.
Her mother had refused to learn to shoot.
As had Dove. She could be struck by lightning or drown in the sea. If nature was going to take her, it would find a way to do so.
“I do,” he told her. “And one in the house, too. You get your pick of which one you want to take to bed with you.”
She shook her head. “Neither.”
“One or the other, Dove…” His tone had grown all boss-like.
“Neither, Mitchell.” Suddenly filled with a surge of energy, she sat up straighter.
“You’re crossing into my autonomy here…” She started in with the fight.
And then, just as quickly depleted, told him, “I’m safer without a gun.
I’ve never held one in my life, nor have I ever so much as pulled the trigger on a plastic squirt gun. ”
When he said nothing, she added, “Or on the handle of an arcade game.”
No shooting. None. Period. Her spirit spoke silently inside her, and Dove welcomed the communication. Wanting to hold it within her.
Needing to be hugged.
“You think I’m weird,” she said, for no good reason, which meant she should have held her tongue.
“I’m thinking I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you knew how to shoot a gun.”
She believed him. The response was so Mitchell. Practical. Logical.
The thought left enough of a positive tail that she asked again what she really wanted to know. “Why have you put your own life on hold to watch over me?”
She didn’t really expect an answer. But she deserved the chance to pose the question. To try to find understanding about something that pertained to her directly.
She knew full well why she was trusting him.
But…what was in it for him?
Sex?
She’d already intimated that he could probably get that just by asking.
It certainly wasn’t the money. There wasn’t going to be much anytime soon.
“You remind me of someone.” His words fell softly into the darkness. Startling her. And ringing with a truth, a depth, she hadn’t expected.
“An ex-girlfriend?” He’d never been married that she knew of.
“No,” he told her, then, as though making up his mind that telling her was better than not, he sighed and said, “My aunt.”
“Spence’s mom?” She didn’t get the likeness. Not even a little bit.
He shook his head. “My dad’s and uncle’s younger sister.”
The words carried a wealth of grief. It came to her slowly. Heavily. And stifled any question she might have asked. He pulled into his garage. Turned off the engine. Pushed the button for the door to shut behind them and sat there with both hands on the wheel.
“Eli met her. Parker, too, though he probably doesn’t remember. I never did. She was killed before I was born.”
Her sharp intake of breath had been completely involuntary. She stared through the garage’s dim light, wishing for the glorious sunset that had just been beginning to appear outside to infiltrate their midst.
If he opened his car door, she’d follow him inside and never speak of the topic again. But she’d remember, for the rest of her days, the grief she’d felt emanating from him.
A man who’d always seemed so…emotionally sedentary.
“She was seventeen. My grandparents were upstairs in bed. She was found on the couch with her stalker…”
Suffused with a sudden urge to cover her ears, Dove physically forced herself to remain open by sliding her hands beneath her thighs. Sitting on them.
“Eli was around five at the time. He and our dad came in and found them there, both dead. The killer had never actually met her in person prior to that night, but thought of himself as her boyfriend. He killed her and then himself.”
“What about your grandparents?”
“They were murdered, too. Probably before Caroline was.”
With tears running down her cheeks, Dove looked over at him through their blur and asked, “Her name was Caroline?”
He nodded.
“My mother’s was, too.”
He nodded again. “I know.”
And she knew, too, right then and there, without a doubt, that she and Mitchell had been meant to connect, for however long either of them needed, and that no matter what happened between them, they’d remain deep, abiding friends for their earthly lifespan—and beyond.
For whatever reason, this uptight man who was nothing at all like her, was a soul mate.
Which meant, to her, he was sacred.
And when the day came that her father got old and passed, she wouldn’t be alone on earth.