A Time to Remember. Lois Richer
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Gray might have guessed. He smiled at the older woman, motioned her to come inside.
“We had breakfast quite a while ago, then Cody saw a nice doctor. After that we went for lunch. I had Furley bring him over a little treat.” Miss Winifred glanced at the bed, smiled, then looked at him. “I don’t think you realize how long you’ve been in here, Gray. It’s almost two o’clock.”
He glanced at his watch, saw that she was right.
“I apologize, Miss Win. I’ve held you up from work. You’ve been wonderful to look after Cody like this, but he can stay with me now. Marissa woke up once when I first came in, but she’s been asleep ever since. They tell me that’s perfectly normal. That her body needs rest.”
“Yes, Luc told me, as well.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right, dear?”
“I’m fine.” That was a lie. He was anything but fine. Still, no sense in upsetting Miss Winifred. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about their situation.
He glanced up, caught her brushing away a tear.
“Did Luc tell you she has amnesia? That she can’t remember anything?”
Miss Blessing nodded.
“Yes, he told me. But she’s alive, Gray. And she’s going to get better. You can thank the Lord for that.”
“Can I?” Bitterness ate at his insides. Cody pressed against his knee and Gray lifted him up, held on to the little boy and tried to tamp down his anger. “Can I also thank Him for allowing my wife to get her skull bashed in? Can I thank Him for taking my son’s voice, for giving me months of unending misery when I didn’t know if they were dead or alive? Can I really thank Him for all that, Miss Winifred?”
As soon as it was said, Gray wished he’d kept his mouth shut. But Winifred Blessing wasn’t abashed by his anger. She didn’t even flinch. Instead her quiet voice rolled over him like salve on a burn, soothing, easing away some of the sting as it cooled and refreshed.
“Yes, you can do all of that, son. You can rant and rave about the injustice of life till your cows come home.” Her eyes sparkling, she lifted her head and dared him to debate her on this. “Or you can get down on your knees and give thanks that God in His wonderful plan decided to give you and your family more time together, that He entrusted them to you for a little longer.”
“You don’t understand,” he muttered, lowering his voice as he became aware that Cody had homed in on the tension between them and didn’t understand. “I made God a promise that if He gave me a son and never let him go through the pain I experienced in my childhood, that I’d be the best possible father I could be.”
“And?”
She was staring at him as if he’d lost his marbles. Gray bristled, all his fears and worries massing together into one swell of raw irritation.
“What do you mean, and? I did the very best I could. I tried to be the kind of father I never had so that my son wouldn’t go through what I did.”
“Yes?” She looked like an inquisitive sparrow, head tilted to one side.
Gray stared at Marissa, the anger deflating like a pricked balloon. “He didn’t keep His side of the deal,” he muttered.
“I see. So you made a deal with God.”
“Yes.”
“You set the terms, you decided how it would be fulfilled and now you’ve judged that God reneged. Is that about the gist of it?”
Put her way, it sounded a bit silly. But the meaning was there.
“Yes,” he said, unable to stem his defiance.
“Uh-huh.” Miss Blessing stared at him for a long time. Then she shook her head, lifted the white box from Cody’s hands and held it out in front of his nose.
“You’ve got the wrong end of the stick in this relationship, Gray. And the sad thing is, you don’t even know it. I’d like to stay here and hammer out who’s who in your master of the universe game, but I’ve got to get to work. Furley is not as young as she used to be. In the meantime, chew on this.”
She stuffed the box into his free hand, then turned and whirled through the door, charging off to cure the world. No doubt she’d unload the whole story on her assistant, Furley Bowes, and the two would confirm Miss Blessing’s opinion that Gray McGonigle was an idiot.
Which was probably no less than he deserved.
Gray glanced down at Cody. “You okay?”
Cody’s trusting eyes met his solemnly. He nodded. He glanced toward the door.
“I know. She was pretty ticked at me. But she doesn’t understand.”
Cody frowned, glanced at his mother, then at his father. Finally he took the box from Gray, lifted the lid and held it up so his father could look inside.
A giant heart-shaped cookie rested against a square of paper. Familiar red script across the cookie held his gaze.
Cody poked him, as if to say, “Well?”
Gray brushed his lips over his son’s now-shiny hair, and sighed.
“Miss Winifred Blessing always has to have the last word, doesn’t she?”
Cody grinned, reached out and pinched the V off the bottom of the heart. He popped it into his mouth, then lifted the cookie and held it toward his father. Gray nodded, read the message again.
“She sure knows where to hit a guy.”
Cody giggled. The sound was like music to Gray’s ears. Maybe Miss Win really did have a direct line to heaven for these messages. This one sure needed no explanation.
There is a God. You are not Him.
Chapter Four
“Okay, all your test results are in and everything seems fine. But just because I release you, it doesn’t mean you’re one hundred percent yet.” Dr. Lucas Lawrence pretended to glare at Marissa. “I want you to take it easy, relax and enjoy being at home with Gray and Cody for a while. No lifting, no straining. No housework!”
She’d been here a week—long enough to heal most of her cuts and bruises. She was ready to leave the hospital with its bland food and weird hours. She was especially delighted by the thought that no one would wake her up to take a pill that put her to sleep.
But to go home? With two people she didn’t know?
Marissa gulped, pretended to smile, watching as the doctor moved toward the door.
“No housework. Wow. That sounds pretty good.”
“Consider it a reprieve. Knowing you and your penchant for organization, and remembering that Gray has been baching for almost six months, you should be grateful.” He waved as he went out the door. “See you in a few days, Marissa.”
A reprieve? More like throwing her to the wolves. The doubts multiplied a thousandfold. Marissa suddenly realized she had no idea what her home looked like, let alone how much cleaning it normally required.
And she had no wish to be there alone with Gray.
She knew no one would understand what she meant. They’d assume she was afraid of him. And she was. But it wasn’t the ordinary kind of fear. Not the kind she felt when she woke from those awful dreams about the river. This was a different kind of fear, as if she might say or do the wrong thing and hurt him, erase that silvery glow in his eyes. Something drew her to him. It was as if she must somehow protect him, but she didn’t understand that. Protect Gray from what, or whom—herself?
The past week had proven that the man who called himself her husband loved his son. The boy looked completely different. He had new clothes, for one thing. His hair had been cut, too. Not just hacked off, which was how it had looked