Chapter 9
Noah listened impassively as the doctor relayed his instructions while Grace looked miserably on.
Clearly she was unhappy about the need to stay at Grayhaven overnight, and she wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her feelings.
Her face was pale, her eyes dark as she chewed her lip nearly to shreds, and Noah thought she looked as if she were fighting back tears.
Considering she didn’t even know him, her reaction seemed a little much.
After all, he knew he was a jerk, but she didn’t.
“Of course we can take care of her here,” he assured the doctor smoothly. “And the symptoms we should look out for—disorientation or confusion, headaches, or vomiting?”
“That’s right.” The doctor looked relieved by his command of the situation. “I told Miss Wyatt she was in good hands.”
“I assure you, she is.”
“You can call my cell if you have any questions.” He turned back to Grace. “I hope you feel better soon and do come in for a CT scan if the pain hasn’t gone away in a few days.”
She nodded minutely, not looking at anyone, and then he was gone, leaving the three of them alone.
“Well,” Noah remarked after a moment, when Grace still hadn’t spoken. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but you are more than welcome to stay here, of course. Isaiah can collect anything you might need from the warden’s lodge.”
A shuddery sound escaped her, her head lowered, and with a jolt of shock Noah realized she was crying.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she wiped her cheeks. “I don’t normally… I just… I just really want to go home.”
Noah eyed her uncertainly, wanting to comfort her with a hug or a touch but knowing he could not take that liberty. “You mean… the warden’s lodge?”
She nodded, still wiping her face. “That’s the only home I have right now.”
Jacob, having heard the catch in Grace’s voice, looked up from his game and then walked silently over to his mother and slipped his hand in hers. Grace smiled down at him, through her tears.
“I’m okay, Jacob,” she murmured. “Don’t worry. I’m okay.”
Watching them both, Noah could sense the strength of their bond. Jacob, he realized, was looking out for his mother as much as she was looking out for him, both of them so clearly hurting and trying to heal. It was touching, but it was also painfully sad. Jacob couldn’t be much more than six.
And what could he do about it all? Noah glanced outside; it was now well into the evening, and a dark and windy night.
He didn’t think it was a good idea for Grace to go anywhere, but he did appreciate how lost she might feel.
And afraid, he realized. She didn’t know him, after all, and she’d just been told she had to spend the night in the same room with him.
He’d already stripped her naked once today. No wonder she was feeling out of sorts.
“Look, I understand this whole situation feels uncomfortable,” he told her with what he hoped was an understanding smile.
It had been a long time since he’d had to engage socially with anyone, and he felt like those muscles, including the ones in his lips, weren’t working all that well.
“But it’s late and I don’t think it’s wise for you to go anywhere tonight.
Tomorrow, if you’d like and you’re feeling up to it, you can return to the lodge and Isaiah can check in with you periodically to make sure you’re okay. But as for tonight…” He hesitated.
Did he want to spend the night in the same room with this woman, never mind what Grace herself preferred?
He’d become an incredibly restless sleeper over the last eighteen months.
He and insomnia were well acquainted with each other, and more alarmingly, when he did sleep, he had dreams. Nightmares that left him tossing and turning or worse, caught in the grip of his own memories.
He didn’t really want Grace Wyatt privy to those.
And yet… he knew he couldn’t ask Isaiah to sleep with her instead. The old man would find it awkward and uncomfortable to do so, and in any case, he was a heavy sleeper and probably wouldn’t wake up if Grace took a turn for the worse.
“You and Jacob can share a room here,” he suggested, “and I’ll try to be as unobtrusive as possible, I promise.”
“No peeking?” she quipped with a tiny smile, the tracks of her tears still visible on her cheeks, and a rusty laugh escaped him unexpectedly.
“Certainly not.”
She shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, I know I’m overreacting about all this. I just…” She blew out a breath. “It’s hard to explain, but this whole thing is bringing up… some memories.” She looked away quickly, still holding her son’s hand. “I don’t even know why.”
“Memories are funny like that,” Noah remarked quietly. “I understand.”
She glanced back at him, her gray gaze sweeping slowly over him before it dipped down, hidden by her thick lashes.
“You seem like you do,” she replied softly, glancing up at him again.
Noah had absolutely no response to that, and for a few seconds they simply stared at each other, just as they had before, and he had the very inconvenient thought that her lips, soft and pink and parted, seemed eminently kissable.
What a ridiculous thing to think right now, Noah reflected, irritated with himself. That was not what was going on here. At all.
“Let me find Isaiah,” he suggested, breaking the silence. “And you can tell him what you’d like him to fetch from the lodge. And then I’ll show you one of the guest bedrooms.”
She was being ridiculous, Grace knew. She couldn’t believe she’d cried, but it had all felt so overwhelming suddenly—their time out on that rock, the way Noah had taken command of the situation, the memories that had surprised her by reaching up and grabbing her by the throat.
And now she and Noah had to sleep in the same room, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Except act like an adult, Grace told herself sternly. Noah Lawrence was going out of his way to be kind, and she should simply be grateful, end of.
Tomorrow, God willing, she’d be back to normal—and back home at the lodge, away from all these unwelcome feelings and memories she hadn’t expected to have to deal with so suddenly.
She and Jacob could focus on their new life, as well as healing from their old one.
And she probably wouldn’t even see Noah Lawrence again, since he seemed to be something of a recluse.
“Here we are.” Noah opened the door to a bedroom a few doors down from the study where they’d had dinner.
He’d already spoken to Isaiah and Grace had haltingly told him where to find pajamas for both her and Jacob, as well as toiletries.
Her son, surprisingly, was taking this whole adventure in his stride, seemingly happy to stay at Grayhaven for the night, as was Noah, although he certainly seemed like a man who valued his privacy.
Clearly Grace was the one who needed to get with the program.
Holding Jacob by the hand, she stepped into the room, which was well appointed, if a little gloomy, just like the rest of the house, with twin beds of dark mahogany, a matching dresser, armoire, and cheval mirror, and dark green velvet drapes framing a view of the ocean, a glimmer of moonlight silvering the water.
She turned to Noah, who was standing in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame, his deep blue eyes glinting in the dim light, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.
He really was inconveniently good-looking, Grace thought, with the slightly shaggy hair, the peaked eyebrows, those cheekbones now fuzzed with five o’clock shadow.
Good-looking and sexy, which seemed like a strange thought to have right now.
“Where are you going to sleep?” she asked.
He shrugged. “On the floor.”
“But that’s not—”
“I don’t sleep much, anyway, these days,” he told her, his tone light although there was a seriousness to his expression.
“Please don’t worry about me.” He pushed himself off the frame, both hands still shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
“I’ll leave you to it for now,” he told her.
“Unless you need something? A glass of water, a couple of painkillers…?”
Her head was throbbing, but Grace didn’t want to put him to any more trouble. “I’m okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
“All right, then. Isaiah should be back shortly with your things. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”
She nodded, and then he was gone, and Grace felt as disappointed as she did relieved. She turned to Jacob, who was looking like he was halfway to falling asleep after the events of the day, and Grace realized she was exhausted, as well. It had been a very long and tumultuous few hours.
“You okay, buddy?” she asked softly. She perched on the edge of the bed and pulled him onto her lap, grateful when he curled into her the way he so often did.
He’d been through so much these last few months—leaving his home, his school, his father, and then coming to an entirely new place.
She regretted that she’d put him through even more, by foolishly forgetting the tide, but she was very grateful they’d survived.
And they would get stronger and better, living on this island, just as she’d hoped they would.
This slightly surreal episode at Grayhaven was just a blip. She had to believe that.
A tap sounded on the door, and Isaiah stepped in, smiling faintly and carrying a duffel bag. “Your things,” he said. “I hope I got everything you wanted.”
“I’m sure you did.” Grace stood up, setting Jacob down. “Thank you—”
“Noah Lawrence is a good man,” Isaiah stated quietly. “You can trust him.”
Startled, Grace stammered, “I—I’m sure I can.” Even if she was finding it hard. She knew that was up to her, not Noah, and she appreciated Isaiah’s words, because she trusted him.
Isaiah nodded once and then slipped out of the room. Grace reached for the bag, handing Jacob his pajamas before taking her own. She really hoped a good night’s sleep would put everything into perspective.
A few minutes later, their pajamas on and their teeth brushed, she and Jacob were both tucked up in bed and Noah was nowhere to be seen.
Grace supposed he was giving them some space to get ready, but she found herself anxiously anticipating when he came into the bedroom—what he would do, how she would react, if it could possibly seem normal.
He’d been a perfect gentleman so far, and yet she still felt nervous. That faintly mocking way he’d had of talking had unnerved her, made her feel a little stupid, but she supposed that was far too easily done. And really, she couldn’t fault his behavior… just her own.
She turned off the light as Jacob snuggled under his blankets, and within a few minutes Grace heard her son’s breathing even out in sleep while she simply stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, her head aching, her eyes gritty, her ears straining for the sound of a footstep, or the creak of a stair.
She heard nothing, and as she continued to lie there she felt her eyelids grow heavy as the events of the day overwhelmed her and sleep, like a tide of its own, drew sweetly over her.
She woke suddenly, with a gasp, her eyes straining in the darkness, her hands clutching her throat. She was choking, choking, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe…
Except she could. It had just been a nightmare, the usual one, and with a wavery sigh of relief Grace relaxed back against the pillow, willing her head and heart both to stop pounding as she took several deep, even breaths, her fingers massaging her throat.
She hadn’t been choking. She’d just been reliving when she had been.
Briefly she closed her eyes against the memories. Brad’s hands around her neck. The look of fury on her husband’s face. The world shrinking to a pinpoint, her vision swimming…
What time was it? She looked around for a clock, but there wasn’t one in the room, although she did see Noah had thoughtfully left a glass of water and a couple of painkillers by her bedside table.
And then she saw Noah himself, asleep on the stretch of floor between her and Jacob, covered only by a couple of blankets.
As she stared down at him, she realized with a ripple of shock that his eyes were clenched shut and sweat beaded his forehead. And as he let out a moan, Grace realized she wasn’t the only one who had been having a nightmare.
“No…” He uttered the word in a low, anguished voice, his jaw clenched tight and his teeth gritted, his head tipped back.
“Jem, no!” Sharper now, and he twisted among the blankets, his head whipping back and forth as if he were in the throes of agony, and maybe he was.
Grace knew all too well the fearsome grip a nightmare could have on a person, how trapped one could make you feel, reliving the same awful moment again and again.
She hesitated, having no idea what to do.
Should she wake him? Leave him to wake on his own?
It felt bizarrely invasive and even intimate to simply watch him struggle against his invisible demons.
The thought of him seeing her like that would be enough to make her curl up in mortification, and so as Noah moaned again, Grace slipped from her bed to kneel at his side.
Lightly she touched his shoulder, the powerful muscle flexing under her hesitant grip. “Noah…” she whispered. “Noah, wake up. It’s all right. You’re having a nightmare, that’s all.”
That’s all. As if nightmares were such pesky, trivial things rather than frightening monsters that held you in their terrible, taloned clutches.
He moaned again, and she shook his shoulder gently. “Noah…”
In the next instant, his hand came around her wrist, tightly enough to hurt, at least a little, and he stared up at her, wide-eyed, and yet still, she suspected, not awake.
“Noah…” she whispered, trying to tug her arm, but he held it fast.
A few endless seconds passed and then, abruptly, he flung her arm away from him so Grace fell back, and Noah rolled onto his side as he began to sob as if his heart would break—or really, as if it was already broken.