Chapter 5
Grace’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking, the Styrofoam cup of coffee trembling against her lips. The babies slept safely in their carriers several feet from where she stood, the boys seemingly no worse for wear despite their ordeal, but safety was an elusive state for Grace in that moment.
Her eyes shifted to the far corner of the room where Champion talked with two men, and she desperately wanted to speak to him, to thank him for his help trying to apprehend her attacker.
She had no idea what he was doing here, but she couldn’t have been more grateful for his unexpected presence.
Her attitude toward him would never be the same, that much was certain.
A policeman with a rounded belly approached, smoothing his thinning white hair. “Miss Bryant, I’d like you to sit with our sketch artist. See if you can get down any recollections while they’re still fresh.”
“I told you, I didn’t get a good look at his face.”
“Any detail, no matter how small—”
Toby twisted in his sleep, his head turning from one side to the other, and she moved toward him, unbuckling his harness just as he made his first squawk. “Shh,” she hushed him, cradling him in her arms and stroking his feather-soft hair.
She addressed the officer. “He smelled like cigarettes and he had very white teeth. That’s all I can tell you, truly.”
“Maybe if you sat with the artist, you’d remember something more.”
She was exhausted, stressed to her breaking point, and her tone lacked flexibility. “I don’t think so.”
The officer relented with a small nod. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive.”
Champion crossed the room, his eyes fixed on the carrier, and dropped to a squat in front of the sleeping Theo.
She furrowed her brow, a wave of protectiveness rising up within her, but said nothing until he stroked the baby’s cheek.
“What are you doing?” she blurted, her voice full of the stress she’d been drowning in tonight.
He rose slowly and turned to face her, his stare locking with hers, and her stomach knotted tightly before his eyes moved to Toby in her arms. “Looking at the babies.”
He was just being kind, and she was an irrational wreck. She closed her eyes on a long blink. “I’m sorry, Mr. Champion. I’m rather on edge.”
“You probably will be for a while.”
“Yes.” She shifted her weight. “What you did tonight…” She searched for the right words, deciding it was best to keep it simple. “Thank you for chasing that man, even if he got away.”
“You’re welcome.”
She wasn’t used to men coming to her rescue, to anyone coming to her rescue, for that matter.
Her real mother had always taught her to be fiercely independent, and the feeling gave her the sudden and intense urge to cry.
She lifted her chin, determined not to let the weakness show.
“What brought you to the hospital tonight?”
He looked away, pausing before he answered. “There was an accident.”
The accident that had taken the twins’ parents? Did he have some personal connection to the victims? Before she could ask, John joined them, resting his hand on the small of her back. “Thank God the boys are all right,” he said.
Grace shuddered. The alternative was horrifying. In just a few short hours, she’d become attached to these children, the role of temporary caregiver seeming far more important since the babies had been orphaned. They had no one in this world, and for the moment, she was all they had left.
“Would you like to hold him?” asked John. She tilted her head and eyed him questioningly. He gestured toward Champion, and her lips parted in surprise. What did her neighbor have to do with the children?
Champion shook his head. “No.”
“He won’t bite,” said John, taking the babe out of her arms and leaving her incredulous as he crossed to the other man.
What the hell is going on here?
She was clearly missing some major piece of information. Champion awkwardly took Toby, the baby’s unsupported head instantly rolling back, and she gasped, arms rising toward the infant.
John’s hand was already on the back of the baby’s head, and he looked over his shoulder at her. “He’s fine, Grace. Everything’s fine.”
But Champion didn’t look fine at all. He looked more agitated now than he had when he was in pursuit of the intruder, the tiny infant upsetting him more than defending her life. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said gruffly.
John’s voice was calm. “So you’ll learn.”
A single point in the center of her brain seemed to freeze over, ice spreading through her head like the crystalline surface of a winter pond. She didn’t know what was happening here, but it wasn’t good, couldn’t possibly be good at all. “John—”
“Give him a minute,” he said, not turning around this time, and she brought her hand to her throat as she watched Champion with Toby.
Maybe John was trying to be nice, some awkward way of expressing his gratitude for Champion’s actions. But that didn’t seem right. None of this seemed right in the slightest. “Maybe I should take him back,” she offered.
John turned around and pinned her with a pointed stare. “Can you give us a minute, please?”
Champion looked at Grace, his gaze unfocused. He needed to be rescued from those children just like she’d needed rescuing from the intruder. “I don’t think Mr. Champion really wants to hold that baby.” She laughed lightly in an attempt to soften her tone.
“Grace, leave him be.” John’s voice was more stern than she’d heard it before, but she couldn’t walk away from this ridiculous scene. There was no reason to force Champion to hold the child, for God’s sake, especially when her arms were aching to do it herself.
The boy whimpered, a pitiful sound that hollowed out her insides. “Why don’t I just take them with me into another room,” she offered, taking a step toward the men.
John put his hand on Champion’s shoulder before turning fully toward her. “He’s their guardian.”
There was no ambiguity in his words, yet his meaning was an impossibility.
Her cheeks heated. For hours on end, she’d been worried for these children, fearful of what their future might hold, and she’d told herself she was being ridiculous.
But if what John was saying was true, she had every reason to worry.
Every reason and more. “Brett Champion is the legal guardian of these babies?”
“That’s right,” said John.
Her throat constricted, air barely passing through, a hundred inappropriate responses springing to mind. Clearly John wanted her to go along with this, but doing so was akin to walking blindly off a plank into the turbulent sea.
No, it was like throwing the babies into the ocean.
Her eyes pleaded with her boyfriend to intervene, but he didn’t even acknowledge her distress.
He was in his minister role now, helping Champion through the aftermath of tragedy.
The dead husband must be Champion’s brother, or the wife his sister.
But a blood relation didn’t make someone fit to raise one child—much less two—and pretending Champion could handle the responsibility was grossly unfair to the boys.
Her thoughts twisted on themselves, propriety and protectiveness squealing past each other like steel plates.
She opened her mouth to protest but closed it again.
The baby in Champion’s arms slipped sideways, Toby’s head lolling backward again.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The words were out before she could stop herself, her determination to give voice to the elephant in the room more powerful than her will to stop it.
Both men looked at her now, the baby’s sounds of discontent escalating into the first notes of a full-fledged cry. “He can’t take care of these children. You know he can’t, John. He can barely take care of himsel—”
“Stop it.” John moved toward her.
Panic was an animal, clawing at her from the inside. “I will not stop it! You know it’s true. I’m sorry for his loss, but that doesn’t make him fit to care for two infants.”
“You don’t know anything about this man,” said John.
Her mouth fell open. “Of course I do, and you do, too. You’ve seen how he lives. Let’s not pretend—”
“Grace!” he snapped. “You’re speaking out of turn.”
How could he leave her hanging like this, not have her back about something so desperately important? Her eyes raked down the length of John’s body and back again. Toby was crying outright, and she raised her voice to be heard over his wails. “Who else is going to stand up for them if we don’t—”
Champion’s voice boomed over the cacophony.
“She’s right. I can’t take care of these kids.
” His face was stern, his jaw locked, yet she had the definite and sudden impression he was holding back intense emotion.
Remorse filled her, even as she fought to keep it at bay.
He’d lost someone dear to him tonight, but she lifted her chin.
I have to stand up for these children.
Champion crossed to them and handed the baby to her, taking extra care with the boy’s fragile neck before he addressed John. “You’ll have to find someone else, Padre.” He walked away, shaking his head. “No can do.”