The Perfect Gift. Lenora Worth
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stared at the plant. “I have a slight concussion, but they’re releasing me this afternoon. I just have to rest for the weekend and take over-the-counter pain reliever. No ibuprofen though, since it can cause some sort of bleeding—doctor’s orders.” She motioned to a paper on the bedside table. “I have a whole list of instructions on all the things to watch for after a concussion.” And she wondered if one of those things was a rapid pulse, and if Rory or her head injury was the cause of that symptom.
“So, what about your confusion and memory loss?”
She slanted her throbbing head. “I still can’t quite remember much more about the accident or what I was doing most of yesterday, but I’m okay. The doctor said I might not ever remember all of it. He just warned me of dizziness and confusion at times. But hey, I’m that way on a good day.”
He fingered one of the vivid red poinsettia leaves. “Your car was full of shopping bags.”
“You’ve seen my car?”
“I had it towed, remember?” He seemed embarrassed. “I guess you don’t. It’s at a nearby garage. But I got all the stuff out of it. It’s in my car right now. I can take it by your grandmother’s if you want me to.”
Goldie shook her head. “You’re amazing. What’s the catch?”
“Excuse me?” he asked, echoing her earlier words to him. “What catch?”
She shrugged, wincing at her sore muscles. “You just seem too good to be true.”
He lowered his head. When he looked back up, his eyes were dark with some unspoken emotion. “Oh, I’m not, trust me. I just walked across the woods last night with the policeman to check on your car and then I notified a friend who owns a body shop to tow it. After you file your insurance report and get the go-ahead, he’ll give you a good estimate—that is if you want him to fix the car.”
Goldie decided not to question why he deflected the compliment. “Can it be fixed?”
“Maybe.” He stood quietly and then said, “I hope I didn’t overstep—having him pick up the car.”
Goldie shook her head. “No, not at all. I just didn’t need this to happen right now. I’m here to help Grammy and I depend on my car to get me around. Just one more thing to deal with.”
He inclined his head in understanding. “Maybe you can rent a car or drive your grandmother’s.”
Goldie laughed. “Her car is ancient but it does move, barely. Grammy says it has one speed—slow.”
His smile was back. “I see you have her sense of humor.”
“Keeps me sane.”
He seemed amused then said, “Well, I guess I’d better get back to the house. I left my sons with my mother—again. That poor woman never gets a break.” His smile was indulgent. “We made two snowmen—one in our yard and one in hers.”
She looked out the window. “Did it snow last night?”
“Yeah, a pretty good dusting. The ground is covered white and we were able to get two passable snowmen.”
“Are the roads okay, then?”
“The roads are fine now. I had to be careful driving into town, but the sun melted most of the ice. However, we could have another round tomorrow.” He turned toward the door then whirled. “Hey, do you need a ride home?”
Goldie didn’t know how to respond. This man seemed to know what she needed even before she voiced it. That was very disconcerting to a woman who was used to being independent and confident and…alone. “I hadn’t thought about that. I sure don’t want Grammy trying to find someone to drive me, even if the roads are clear.”
“I can take you right now.”
He really was a sweet man. “I haven’t been released yet. The doctor said later today.”
“I’ll come back and take you home, then,” he confirmed, holding up a hand when she tried to protest. “I just have to help the boys do some things around our place. We have a small herd of cows and they need checking on and we all have chores to do, but they can stay with my mom while I take you to your grandmother’s house.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“I insist. Your grandmother’s worried about you and I don’t mind. I’ll call her.”
“I can call Grammy,” Goldie asserted. “I’ll tell her you’re bringing me home. They said midafternoon, after I see the doctor one more time and he signs my release.”
“So, I’ll be back around three.”
Goldie had to ask. “You said your mother watches the boys a lot? Does your wife work?” And where had his wife been last night?
“I don’t have a wife,” he corrected, the light going out of his eyes. “She…died a few years ago.”
Wishing she’d learn to keep her curiosity to herself, Goldie looked down at her hands. That probably explained his aversion to hospitals. “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t comment. He just nodded his head again in a silent acknowledgment. “I’ll see you at three.”
“Okay. Thanks again, Rory. For everything.”
He waved goodbye then shut the door.
“Nice going, Goldie,” she whispered to herself. If her head hadn’t been so sore, she would have hit her forehead in disgust. Why was she accident-prone with herself and her mouth?
Instead, Goldie closed her eyes and remembered the homeyness of Rory’s rambling farmhouse, the cute grins of his two little boys—wait, the cute grin of the youngest of his two boys, at least—and the way Rory’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. And she imagined the kind of woman who’d once been a part of that lovely picture. The kind of woman who baked cookies, kept the house neat and played kick ball with the boys in the backyard. A loving, caring, motherly type woman.
And she reminded herself she was not that kind of woman even if she did have a compulsion toward being organized. Besides, she’d come here to help her grandmother, not get involved with yet another male even if this one seemed to actually understand the meaning of the words trust and commitment. In spite of her accident and her fuzzy memories, she somehow knew she had a very good reason for not wanting a man in her life—no matter how kind Rory Branagan had been to her and how much her heart was telling her that this man just might be different from all the rest.
Chapter Three
Her locket was missing.
Frantic, Goldie searched all around her bed and the bedside table, then buzzed for a nurse. She glanced at the clock. It was almost time for Rory to come and take her home, but she couldn’t leave without her locket. When the bubbly RN rushed into her room, Goldie was just about out of the bed.
“Don’t try to get up by yourself,” the nurse objected, holding Goldie’s arm. “Do you need a bathroom break?”
“No, I…I can’t find my locket,” Goldie replied, willing herself not to cry. “It’s on a gold chain—it’s a filigree-etched square with a porcelain picture of a Louisiana iris and a tiny yellow butterfly. Somebody must have taken it off me when they brought me in.”
The nurse opened drawers and went through the nearby closet. “Here’s the bag that came with your personal belongings. Want me to check inside? It might be in your purse.”
Goldie nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
She watched closely as the nurse searched her leather purse then rummaged through Goldie’s clothes from last night. “I don’t see anything like that, honey. Maybe you gave the locket to someone for safekeeping before you came here?”
“No,”