Chapter 19 #2
“What the heck has gotten into you?” she asked, her eyes darting around nervously to see who might be watching them.
“I just got off the phone with Dan Torrington.”
She clutched his shoulders and looked up at him with those big blue-green eyes that did him in. “And?”
“He’s coming here.”
“Wh-what?”
“He’s coming to Rhode Island to see you and Charlie. He’s taking the case, Steph.”
As if she couldn’t believe what he was saying, she shook her head.
By now they’d attracted a crowd of onlookers, but Grant didn’t care. When he realized she was crying, he gathered her in closer to him and turned his back on the crowd. “Talk to me, honey. What’re you thinking?”
“I can’t believe it.”
“If anyone can get you and Charlie out of this nightmare, it’s Dan. A lot of times, just having his name associated with a case is all it takes to open doors.”
“I can’t afford him,” she said, wiping at the dampness on her face.
“He said not to worry about that for now.”
She looked up at him again. “He’s really coming here?”
Grant nodded and hugged her again, relieved that he’d been able to do something for her. As he held her close, it occurred to him that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
Owen poured a cup of coffee, filled it with cream and sugar the way Laura liked it, and started up the stairs to the manager’s apartment that used to belong to his grandparents. He was on the third-floor landing when he heard what sounded like retching noises.
He gave a gentle rap on the door, which swung open. “Laura?” Putting the coffee on a table, he tried to decide what he should do. Another round of violent vomiting spurred him into the bathroom, where he found her draped over the toilet. “Jesus, Laura, what can I do?”
“Go.” She waved a hand at him. “Go away. Please.”
For a second, Owen considered doing as she asked, but then she was heaving again, and he couldn’t leave her. He wet a washcloth under cold water and crouched next to her to bathe her face.
“Owen, please. Go.”
“Shhh. It’s okay.”
“So gross.”
“Nah.” He smoothed the hair off her forehead. “You think it’s something you ate?”
She shook her head.
“Maybe a bug, then.”
“Not a bug.” She flushed the toilet and sagged against him like a rag doll.
Owen felt like he was missing something, but his immediate concern was her white face and limp body. “Is it over?”
“I hope so. You don’t have to stay.”
“I don’t mind.” Oddly enough, Owen discovered he rather liked having her snuggled up to him, even if she was sick. Owen in his right mind would’ve turned tail and ran the first time she told him to. “I brought you coffee, but I doubt that holds much appeal at the moment.”
Her moan answered for her.
He slid an arm under her legs. “Hold on, Princess.”
When she linked her arms around his neck, he hoisted her off the floor and carried her to bed. He tucked the covers in around her and sat on the edge of the mattress. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks.”
Reaching for her hand, he held it between both of his. “You wanna talk about it?”
As tears flooded her eyes, she shook her head.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
Keeping her face turned away from him, she stared out the window at the view of the vast ocean. “I’m pregnant.”
Shock ricocheted through him. “Oh, Princess . . .”
“Pathetic, huh? Knocked up by my cheating husband. I’m like a bad chick flick.”
“I’m sorry. How long have you known?”
“Since the day before I came here for the wedding.”
Owen winced. “Ouch. Well, if it’s any consolation, no one would’ve known you were suffering at the wedding. You were a devoted bridesmaid.”
She ventured a glance up at him. “How do you know that?”
“I had my eye on you.”
“Oh. You did?”
“Uh-huh. It can get sort of boring up there on the stage singing the same old songs night after night. Checking out the pretty girls keeps things interesting.”
For the first time, a tinge of color appeared in her ghostly pale cheeks. “You don’t have to say things like that to make me feel better.”
“Hang around with me long enough and you’ll discover I never say anything I don’t mean.”
“I’m sorry you had to see me puke.”
“Everyone does it at one time or another.”
“I’ve been doing it a lot lately.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor about that.”
“It’s on the agenda when I get home.”
“When are you going?”
“I had planned on today, but I don’t think my stomach could handle the ferry ride.”
He leaned in to arrange her hair on the pillow. “Could it handle a cup of tea?”
“Do we have tea?”
“I bet we do. My grandmother left behind anything she thought someone might be able to use someday. I remember making Depression jokes for which I was soundly chastised.”
Her lips quirked with amusement. “Tea actually sounds good.”
Telling himself it was for her and not because he needed to touch her, Owen placed a quick kiss on her forehead and got up.
“Let me see what we’ve got.” As he went into the small kitchenette, he wondered why things were so easy and familiar with her when he normally went out of his way to keep it loose and casual with women.
It was probably better not to delve too deeply into that particular subject, he decided.
He dug through what was left of his grandmother’s pantry and found a box of tea way in the back.
“We’re in luck,” he called to Laura. “We’ve got tea, but it’s nothing special. No flavor or anything.”
“I’d prefer it flavor-free.”
“Stand by.” Owen washed a small pan and put the water on to boil. By the time he’d steeped the tea and brought it to her, she’d fallen asleep. She looked so pretty and peaceful, and he was grateful that she had gotten a reprieve from all her troubles. They’d be waiting for her when she woke up.
Sad for the predicament she found herself in and wishing he could do more to help her than boil some water, Owen put the tea on her bedside table and left her to sleep.