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was a long time ago, she added.  He quit when he married my mother because she didn t like him taking
risks.
 What did he do afterward?
 He got a job as a limousine driver inSan Antonio , she replied.  He made good money at it, too. Then
he met a pretty, rich woman that he d been hired to drive around, and he went head over heels for her.
He left my mother and filed for divorce. She never got over it. The other woman was ten years older than
she was, and she owned a boutique.
 Is your father still living? he asked.
She shook her head.  He and his new wife were driving toLas Vegas when a drunk driver ran into them
head-on. They both died.
 You said your mother disliked you?
She nodded.  I look like my father. She hated me for that.
 What happened to your mother?
 She& died about twelve years ago, she said.  Just two years after Daddy did.
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 What did she do for a living?
 She was a nurse, Grace said quietly.
 You re going to kill those bushes if you keep snipping, he pointed out.  And the temperature s
dropping.
She shivered a little as she stood up.  I suppose so. I just wanted something to do. I can t bear to sit in
that house alone.
 You don t need to. Pack a small bag. I ll take you home with me. You and Miss Turner can watch
movies on the pay per view channel.
She looked up at him, frowning.  That s not necessary& 
 Yes, it is, he said gently, studying her face. It was wet with tears.  You need a little time to get
adjusted to life without your grandmother. No strings. Just company.
She gnawed on her lower lip. She didn t understand his motives, and it showed.
 I d do it for anybody, he continued.  Think of it as one neighbor helping another out.
She shifted in place.  If I wouldn t be in the way&  she began.
 I work in the study all hours trying to get herd records up-to-date, he said simply.  You won t bother
me. I ll give you the guest room next to Miss Turner s. If you get scared in the night, she ll be around.
She still hesitated. It was hard for her, trusting a man. Any man.
 If you stay over here talking to rosebushes, somebody s going to notice, he pointed out.  Think of the
scandal.
She smiled despite herself.  All right, then. Thank you, she added a little awkwardly.
 You d do it for me, I m sure.
And she would have.
Miss Turner was surprised and delighted at the unexpected company.  He hates having people here,
she told Grace as she poured her some tea in the kitchen of the long, single level house.
 It s only because I was talking to the roses, Grace faltered.
Miss Turner stared at her.
Grace flushed.  Well, I m not exactly overcome with visitors these days.
 You can talk to me, she told her.  At least, I can answer you back.
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LATER, MISS TURNER showed her to the guest room and pointed out the quilt at the foot of the bed
in case Grace got too cool.
 He says he can t sleep in a warm house, so he keeps it like a deep freeze, Miss Turner muttered.
 Likely you ll get frostbite, but at least you won t be lonely. Got your medications?
Grace nodded.
 Good. There s water in the carafe by the bed. Sleep well.
 You, too.
The door closed and Grace sat down on the bed. It was a pretty room, done in cool blues and beiges.
She was amazed at her host for the invitation, and grateful as well. She d dreaded spending the night
alone.
For a man with no social skills to speak of, she thought, he was surprisingly kindhearted.
SHE SETTLED UNDER the comforter and closed her eyes. But the events of the day had damaged
her, and not only her grandmother s death. She kept seeing little girls lying in beds of roses, wearing red
ribbons around their necks&
When the screams started, she didn t even realize that they were coming from her own lips.
5
 GOD ALMIGHTY! CAME A deep voice from somewhere nearby.  Grace. Grace!
She was dying. Blood was seeping out all around her, and it was red, as red as her grandmother s roses.
She was lying in a patch of sunflowers, looking up at the sky. There was pain. So much pain! She could
almost feel merciless hands on her shoulders, shaking her, shaking her& !
She gasped and her eyes flew open. Garon Grier was sitting on the side of her bed in a bathrobe, his
blond-streaked brown hair mussed, his dark eyes narrow and concerned. Behind him stood Miss Turner
with her hair down, gray and thin, wrapped in a thick bathrobe, chewing her lower lip nervously.
Grace took a long breath and another one. She was shaking.  S-sorry, she stammered.  I m sorry!
The big hands holding her shoulders relented, pulling her into a sitting position. Her long blond hair had
come undone from its cloth tie and draped around her shoulders like a fall of silk. She was wearing a
thick cotton gown that covered her from throat to heels. Only her face and hands peered out from its
whiteness.
 What happened? Garon asked.
She swallowed hard, looking around her in relief. She wasn t lying in a field. She was in a bed, in a
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house. Safe. She swallowed again, aware that her eyes and cheeks were wet.
 What was it? he persisted.  A nightmare?
She only nodded, still shaken. It had seemed very real.
 How about some warm milk, Grace? Miss Turner asked.  It might help you sleep.
 Milk, hell, Garon said curtly.  Bring her a tot of Crown Royal.
 I hate spirits, Grace began.
 Now, he added, fixing Miss Turner with a level stare that didn t invite defiance.
 Back in a jiffy, Miss Turner said.
Garon let go of Grace s shoulders. His eyes were like lasers, probing, inquiring.  This isn t a new thing,
is it? he asked suddenly.
 The nightmare? No. She leaned forward, drawing her knees up under the cover to rest her forehead
on. Her heart was skipping madly. She could barely get her breath at all.  I ve had them for a long time.
He wanted to ask questions, demand answers. But she was a guest in his house. He didn t want to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]