His Holiday Bride. Elaine Overton
opened the front door of the house as quietly as possible, not wanting to awaken Rosalie, the sixty-seven-year-old Hispanic woman who took care of his eight-month-old son, Joachim, during the day. But that proved pointless as he entered the large kitchen and found her sitting at the table.
Rosalie often volunteered to spend the night when Paul needed to do late-night surveillance, such as tonight. Being that all of her children were adults, there was only Rosalie and her elderly husband, Enrique, at home. Paul knew that taking care of Joachim was more than just a job for Rosalie, and he was grateful for whatever intuition had led him to hire her.
The older woman was usually never without a smile or kind word for anyone. But now a worried expression marred her light brown face. Her worn, wrinkled hands were closed around a mug and Paul knew instinctively this night was about to get even worse.
“Paul!” Hearing him enter the room she sprung to her feet with the agility of a woman half her age and ran to wrap her robust arms around his lean form. “I was so worried about you. I know you said you would be late tonight, but it’s almost morning, and I was so afraid. And Enrique, my Enrique has to have emergency surgery—”
“Shhh, shhh.” Paul stroked her back, trying to calm her. “Now, slowly, tell me.”
“My Enrique has to have emergency heart bypass surgery in the morning.” She began wringing her hands in agitation. “Oh, Paul, I am so worried. What am I going to do?”
Paul guided her back to the table. “First, you are going to slow down before you have to join Enrique in the hospital,” he said, in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.
Rosalie smiled, grateful for the effort. “You’re right. He’s always been such a strong, healthy man. I don’t understand how this could’ve happened to him.”
“What hospital is he in?”
“Riverside County,” she managed to say before the tears began to flow. “Oh, Paul, I am so scared.” Her eyes widened as she remembered the important conversation she needed to have with him. “I have to go be with him, Paul. But I don’t know what to do about Joachim.”
“Don’t worry about Joachim. I’ll just work from home for the next few days. You go be with your husband.”
She leaned across the table and hugged him again, and Paul knew in some way she needed the affection more than he did. She stood and hurried toward the hall. “Thank you so much,” she called over her shoulder.
She paused in the entryway and returned to the table to take one of his large hands between hers. “Please say a prayer for us.” She smiled and touched his lean cheek. “Your prayers will be heard. You are touched by the angels.”
Paul forced a smile and regretted the many mornings he’d sat sharing his war stories with her over a pot of coffee. But during those early days when she’d first come to work for him he had needed someone to talk to, and Rosalie had been a kind and compassionate listener.
She was also a deeply religious, yet superstitious woman. After hearing how many times he’d barely escaped being captured by the Taliban, she’d concluded that he had “special favor.” An opinion he’d yet been unable to change.
He looked into her eyes, trying to determine how to pose his question without offending her. “Rosalie, Enrique’s hospital stay…is it going to pose a hardship for you? Because I can—”
She quickly covered his lips with her finger, and much to his dismay her eyes once again filled with tears. “Such a generous offer, but we are fine. Enrique has insurance and thanks to you, so do I. With our savings, we’ll be just fine.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s time for Joachim’s feeding. I’ll leave right after that.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No, no, I want to.” She crossed the room to where a bottle sat cooling on the stove. “I’m going to miss him so much. I just want to spend a little time with him before I have to leave.” She hurried out of the room and a few minutes later Paul heard the door to the nursery gently open and close.
Paul rose tiredly and picked up the cordless phone. Running through the numbers on the speed dial he finally found the one he wanted. He dialed and leaned against the counter, waiting for an answer and wondering if he should describe the mission as accomplished or failed.
“Hello?” The drowsy voice of Luther Biggens answered on the other end.
“I got her.” Paul decided to cut straight to the chase. He rubbed the bridge of his nose feeling the pressure of recent events coming down on him.
“Thanks, man. Can I talk to her?”
“Um, let me rephrase that. I don’t exactly have her have her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s in the neighborhood, but not in the house.”
“What?”
Paul sighed. “It’s a long story. Out here it’s almost three in the morning and neither of us has slept all night. Can I have her call you back when she wakes up?”
Luther paused for a long moment as if attempting to understand his old friend. “All right, I guess. And when you wake up, I’d be interested to hear this long story.”
“You got it.” He yawned, unable to hold back his exhaustion any longer.
A few minutes later he grabbed his keys off the foyer table in preparation to go search for Amber. He needed to find her and talk some sense into her quickly. Now that Rosalie was leaving he couldn’t stay away long.
Just as he opened the door, he saw a dragging, drunken figure weighted down with shopping bags wandering up the driveway. He shook his head, amazed that she was still on her feet. He wanted to rush toward her and help her, but knew the help would be rejected.
She stopped just outside the doorway. “What the hell kind of freakish community is this? There’s no way out!” She glared at him as if it were his fault she’d spent the last thirty minutes wandering in circles.
He bit his lip to keep from laughing and waited. She looked so disgruntled he almost felt sorry for her.
Finally she placed one foot inside the door and paused. “I’ll stay tonight, but first thing in the morning you’re taking me to the airport.” She wagged a finger in his face that told Paul that, despite her ranting about strangers, she was not the slightest bit afraid of him.
He stepped aside to allow her inside. Amber entered looking around at the bare walls and the staircase leading to the second level. The only light was the foyer table lamp, so she couldn’t see much.
“So? Where do I sleep?”
“The second bedroom at the top of the stairs.”
Without another word she turned and, weaving back and forth, finally made her way to the top of the stairs. Paul just shook his head, realizing the only thing keeping her exhausted body upright was pure determination. From where he stood at the bottom, he could just see her shadow as she entered the room and closed the door.
He was sitting at the kitchen table fifteen minutes later when Rosalie came back down. “Okay, his bottom is dry and his belly is full.” She smiled. “He should sleep until around seven now. There are several bottles already prepared on the refrigerator door and the directions for mixing his formula are on the tack board over there.” She made a gesture over her left shoulder.
After watching her drive away, Paul quickly locked the door and set the alarm. Happiness began to grow as he came closer and closer to the master bedroom. He threw open the double doors and without even undressing just stretched out across his large four-poster bed. He sighed heavily, yawned once and quickly faded away.
Ten minutes later, a baby’s angry howl brought him back to his feet once more.
Chapter