Lone Star Baby. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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flashed her a brief smile. “Mitzy stopped me on the way out of the hospital. She wants us to fill out some questionnaires on what we’re looking for in adoptive parents for Ava.”
“You didn’t have to bring it all the way out here.”
“She wants us in agreement on the answers before she sees them. I figured it would be easier to do it in person than on the phone.”
Violet wasn’t sure she understood his logic. Except that doing it in person would allow them the opportunity to gage the expressions on each other’s face to more effectively read their mood.
Not that Gavin was helping her out right now with that. His handsome face was poker-inscrutable. As always.
She sighed, not sure why the fact he was such a mystery was so frustrating to her.
Pushing aside her pique, she asked, “Do you have to work tonight?”
He shook his head. “I don’t go in until midnight tomorrow. But if this is a bad time...”
Truth be told she had nothing ahead of her that evening but finishing her current chore and trying to restore order to the mess she’d made of her Conestoga wagon bedroom that morning. “It’s not. I just need to finish what I’m doing here. You can come on up, if you want. The front door is open.”
She backed out of the window and by the time she had it shut and locked, he was standing in the room, looking like a dark angel in the fading sunlight pouring in through the glass.
As he strode closer, she drank him in from head to toe. Up close, she could see how tired he looked around the eyes. Her heart went out to him. She knew how it felt to come off a long shift. She also knew what it took to keep going and to do what had to be done, regardless of bone-deep fatigue. It was something they’d learned in med school and never forgot.
He inclined his head at the camera in her hand. “What are you filming?”
“The interior of the house, pre-renovation. My sister Callie—”
“The marketing and social media whiz?”
Violet nodded, impressed he could keep all five of her sisters straight. Not everyone could. “She’s going to put together a short film about my late grandparents. Show how they started the hospital as physician and nurse and helped build it into the state-of-the-art county medical facility it is today.”
He fell into step beside her. “I know they were active on the board of directors, even after they retired.”
Proudly, Violet admitted, “John and Lilah helped raise a lot of money to add oncology, neonatal intensive care and cardio-pulmonary care, as well as the medical residency programs for all three. Turning this ranch into living quarters for families dealing with medical crises was their last wish.” She took a breath. “And although they left enough money in their estate to redo the house, and eventually the stable-house, where I’m currently staying—which will eventually house the new director—we’ll need to raise more money if we’re to expand and keep it going as a nonprofit.”
He folded his arms in front of him, the action delineating the strong musculature of his chest. “And that is where the video comes in.”
“We’ll use it to show exactly where the money is going and how much good any donation does.” Violet moved along the hall, filming the empty rooms with the faded paint and wallpaper.
He gave her enough room to work unencumbered. “So when does the construction start?”
Determined not to let him see how much his nearness affected her, Violet raised a blind to let more light into the last room. “They’re bringing the Dumpster tomorrow morning. Once it’s set up, the teardown of the interior will begin.”
“Sounds noisy.” Finished, she turned off the camera and led the way downstairs. “That’s why they make noise-canceling headphones. Luckily—” she winked as she locked up and led the way across the yard to the stable-house “—I brought along a pair. And extra batteries, too.”
Chuckling at her sassy tone, he followed her into the stable-house.
His brow lifted at what he found. “Wow. You’ve been busy.”
* * *
ALTHOUGH WHY, GAVIN THOUGHT, she wanted to be stranded out here, away from all her family and friends, still puzzled him. Was she running away from something? Trying to get her thoughts together? Or fulfilling some cockeyed notion of the McCabe clan’s famous Texas Pioneer spirit?
Hard to say.
But whatever was going on with Violet, she was clearly determined to make it work, at least for the next few months. “It’s a big improvement over the way it looked two days ago,” he continued, impressed.
All the moving boxes had been pushed to the rear of the former stable and were neatly lined up behind the Conestoga wagon that functioned as her bedroom.
On the right side of the large space she had rolled a rug out over the painted concrete floor and arranged a sofa, armchair and two end tables to make a nice conversation area. A big packing trunk served as a coffee table.
On the other side of the room a wooden trestle table provided additional kitchen counter space. It held a microwave, toaster oven and what looked like an electric skillet. The small refrigerator stood next to that. A white wrought-iron patio set now served as the dining room table and chairs.
There were no shades or drapes on the tall casement windows that lined either side of the room, which was where she had placed the Conestoga wagon. Its rounded, white-canvas top would come in handy, he realized, since the flaps could be tied shut on either end, allowing her complete privacy. For changing and—
He didn’t need to be thinking about that.
What she wore—or didn’t wear—to sleep in was none of his business.
Violet looked at the dusky light outside and switched on the overhead lights. Mounted close to the ceiling, they let off the kind of bright fluorescence the hospital corridors afforded. A bonus, given the fact he was a little too interested in the way her thigh-length shorts, faded college T-shirt and sneakers cloaked her spectacular body.
“Do you have the questionnaires?” she asked brusquely, bringing his attention back to where it needed to be once again.
He lifted the manila file amiably. “Right here.”
A faint blush highlighted the elegant contours of her cheeks. She looked around until she found something to write with. “A pen?”
Gavin patted his pocket. Found his cell phone but nothing else. “Ah, no.”
“No problem. I think I have some extra in my bedside drawer. I’ll be right back.” She headed up the stairs and disappeared into the covered wagon.
While Gavin waited, he checked out the ventilation in the room, which seemed comfortably cool despite the warmth of the summer day. Further investigation showed why. Long-handled cranks opened the tall, abundant windows along the very top quarter of the glass. The ceiling fan whirred overhead, cooling and dispersing the fresh air. As a result, the room smelled like the sunny autumn day it had been. Fresh and clean, like the great Texas outdoors.
He could see why she liked it out here, although it had to be lonely, too, he thought. Especially at night.
Almost too quiet.
In the wagon, however, it was anything but.
He could hear things being shifted, occasional muttering and...was that swearing? There was a small crash, a shift of bedsprings and then an even bigger crash.
Followed only by silence.
Gavin waited.
Still nothing.
He began to get a little worried. “Violet? You okay in there?”
The bedsprings creaked.
There