Was he going to turn on the light? Did he want to look at her without her being able to see him?
She sensed movement in the room, then his presence by the bed.
“Keep them closed,” he instructed.
His hand gently squeezed hers, then something soft and warm brushed against her cheek. “Sleep well, Cathy. I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”
And then he was gone. Cathy slowly opened her eyes. Without meaning to, she pressed her fingertips to the place he’d kissed her. She told herself it had been a brief peck, a meaningless gesture between friends. It couldn’t be anything more.
Even so, she was smiling as she sank down into the pillows and as she closed her eyes again, she relived the moment over and over until she dropped off to sleep.
* * *
Stone walked over to the window in his office and stared at the darkness. The house felt more welcoming tonight, and he knew the reason slept up one floor, at the end of the opposite wing.
Cathy. Her presence here was nearly enough to banish the ghosts, even as she, in some ways, echoed them.
She was nothing like Evelyn. Not in appearance or temperament or even circumstances, save the fact that they’d both grown up in families that barely made ends meet. And yet they were so alike.
He drew in a deep breath and promised himself that this time would be different This time he wouldn’t make the same mistakes. This time he would be aware of what was going on. He could help Cathy in ways he’d never been able to help Evelyn. He could fix her life. In some small way, that might atone for the sins of the past. Maybe if he got it right this time, some of the pain would fade away.
Without wanting to, barely aware of the action, he rubbed his fingertips against the scars on the left side of his face.
This time he wouldn’t get involved, he told himself. This time he wouldn’t care too much. He liked Cathy. Friendship was safe—nothing else was permissible. He would ensure that they maintained the relationship they’d already established and nothing more.
When she was healed, on the inside, as well as from her injuries, he would let her go. She would walk away stronger because of him, and maybe then he would be left in peace.
* * *
Cathy was awake early the next morning. She managed to get to the bathroom and back, although the short trip took about twenty minutes.
“I wish I’d studied dance or something,” she muttered as she sat down on the bed and tried to catch her breath. “Or even a beginning class in 101 ways to use crutches.”
She was many things, but she’d never been graceful or even athletic. The crutches hurt her arms and shoulders, and she still didn’t have the hang of them. If she tried anything complex, like stairs or even a long hallway, she was afraid she was going to fall flat on her face.
She managed to lean them against the wall between the nightstand and the headboard, then she pushed herself back onto the bed so she could swing her legs up onto the mattress. Her nightgown hitched up, exposing pale thighs. Cathy stared at the slightly lumpy skin. All her life she’d been wrestling with the same twenty pounds. Unfortunately she had a feeling that in the past couple of months those pounds had been breeding and now it was more like twenty-five. With all this forced inactivity, the situation was only going to get worse.
Her stomach growled. Great. Now she was hungry.
She wished she were the swearing kind, although she’d never understood how saying certain words was supposed to relieve emotional tension. There was nothing to be done but for her to get through the situation. When she was back home, she was going on a diet for sure. She would even start exercising. Nothing complicated—just walking.
The promise was as old as it was familiar. Cathy pulled up the covers and fought against the accompanying sense of failure. So many lost opportunities, she thought grimly. How many times had she vowed she wasn’t going to eat another bite of chocolate until she’d lost a few pounds? How many times had she sworn to herself that she was going to get into shape, only to spend her days reading?
A knock at the door interrupted her pity party, and she was grateful. For a split second, her heart jumped at the thought it might be Stone. Then she remembered that he didn’t want her seeing him, so it was unlikely he would show up in the morning, when light spilled into her room.
“Come in,” she called.
Ula, the housekeeper, opened the door and stepped inside her room. “Good morning,” the older woman said. She was petite, with graying hair pulled back into a sensible bun, and dark eyes.
“How did you sleep?” Ula asked.
“Great. My leg didn’t bother me much at all.”
The older woman nodded. Her pale gray dress wasn’t exactly a uniform, but it didn’t look like a fashion statement, either. Cathy shifted uncomfortably on the bed. She wasn’t sure if the housekeeper was simply restrained in her manner, or if she resented Cathy’s presence. Maybe she thought Cathy was a leech or a charity case. Cathy grimaced. While she didn’t consider herself the former, she might definitely be thought of as the latter.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat,” Ula said. Her stern expression softened. “If you would tell me your preferences, I would be happy to prepare them. Mr. Ward isn’t one who pays attention to his food. I don’t think he notices anything I feed him.”
Cathy thought about the outline of Stone’s body. He’d looked lean in the darkness. Ula was slight, too. Great. Here she was waddling through the land of gazelles.
