A Family-Style Christmas and Yuletide Homecoming Page 14

  He drew in a steady breath as he buckled up and turned the key in the ignition. Caitlin sat back against the headrest, watching him as he backed out of the hospital parking lot and turned onto the road.

  “This is a lot different than your motorbike,” she said, looking around the interior. “Are you turning over a new leaf?”

  “More like starting another book,” he said quietly. “The motorbike had to go.”

  “That sounds profound. How is your leg?”

  “Good.” Simon drew in a deep breath, smiling. “Really good.” He glanced sidelong at her. “And how was your visit with your sister, the one in Portland?”

  “Nice. Evelyn and her husband have a lovely little baby girl.”

  Silence.

  Well, that exhausted those topics of conversation, he thought.

  They drove on for a while, both quiet. Simon never had trouble talking to a woman before, but Caitlin made him uneasy, nervous.

  * * *

  Caitlin glanced at Simon while he gave the waitress their order. His hair was longer than before, hiding the small scar she knew was on his forehead. His eyes held the same glint, his mouth curved up in the same impudent grin. He looked far more at ease than she felt.

  His street clothes emphasized his masculinity and at the same time created a distance. This was a Simon unfamiliar to her. Strong, in charge and independent. When she had seen him standing by the desk, she felt as if all the breath had been squeezed out of her chest.

  She fiddled with her spoon and, just for something to do, put some sugar in her coffee, stirring it slowly. She could feel Simon’s eyes on her but didn’t know what to say.

  “Isn’t this where we are supposed to make intelligent conversation?” he asked suddenly. “You ask me a question, I ask you a question....” He let the comment fade as he smiled at her.

  “And the purpose is?”

  “Getting to know each other in a neutral setting.” Simon set his cup down. “The hospital was definitely your territory. This is just a restaurant. Neutral ground.”

  Caitlin looked down at her own cup, hardly daring to hope that he wanted the same thing she did. Something had started between them, something she didn’t know if she dared explore.

  He was right about territory. They had met on the unequal footing of patient and nurse. She had seen his vulnerability. However, he had also voluntarily opened himself up to her in a way no other man had. She had seen him searching for God and that, in itself, touched her deeply.

  “I’ll start with a question for you, seein’s how you’re not saying anything,” Simon said, pushing his cup and saucer around on the table, a hint of a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “What new and exciting things have happened in your life? How’s the boyfriend?”

  Caitlin frowned. “Boyfriend?”

  “Yeah. The guy who came to the ward that night. Charles.” Simon spun his cup in the saucer, holding her gaze.

  “He’s not my boyfriend. I broke up with him a while ago.”

  Simon stopped the spinning, his hand resting on the rim of the cup. “What did you say?”

  “I said Charles is not my boyfriend.”

  Simon sat back, a smile curving his beautiful mouth. “Really.”

  “I broke up with him the night you had your accident.” Caitlin swallowed as she saw the glint in his eyes and knew that in that moment something had shifted, changed. “He came to the ward hoping to get back together with me. I told him again that it was over.” She looked down, remembering all too vividly the reasons she knew she would never go back to Charles Frost. Remembering Simon’s gentle touch and the not-so-gentle kisses of a mouth that now curved up in a smile.

  She felt her cheeks warm at the memory and quickly took a sip of coffee to cover up her embarrassment.

  “I see,” Simon said quietly.

  Silence slipped over them as they sat opposite each other. A silence broken by the murmur of the other patrons of the restaurant. She searched desperately for something to say. “And how is your work going?”

  Simon lifted a hand and waggled it back and forth. “Good. Making money in some places, losing it in others.”

  She nodded, and that topic was exhausted.

  Simon pushed his cup and saucer aside and took her hand in his. “This isn’t working really well, is it?” he asked, his deep voice low. “I was hoping we could exchange some idle chitchat, get to know each other better. Start over on a more equal footing.” He lifted his eyebrows quickly at that. “If you’ll pardon the pun.”

  Caitlin smiled, her heart thrumming at his contact, her hand nestled in the protective warmth of his. She raised her eyes to his and once again was lost. She had never felt this way about any man before, this sense of belonging, a feeling that with Simon all in her life that was annoying and frustrating became meaningless. “So, how do we do this?”

  “I don’t know.” Simon looked down at her hand, stroking her thumb with his. “I already know that your favorite color is blue, your favorite food is chicken. That you are a great nurse and a sincere Christian.” He looked up at that, his head tilted to one side. “I know that much about you.”

  Caitlin swallowed at the intensity of his gaze. “And I know that your favorite color is brown. You like French fries, and you don’t like taking painkillers.”

  His slow, lazy smile wound its way around her heart, tightening it with bands of yearning.

  “I know that you have a brother,” she continued, striving for an even tone, determined to do this right, to confront all the issues of his life. “That you were raised in foster homes and that deep within you is a need for something more that only God can give. What I don’t know is, if you’ve found it.”

  “Well, that was quite an exposé,” he said, his tone dry.

  “It’s the truth. And if you want us to get to know each other better, then we had better start on that footing.” Caitlin looked down at their joined hands, hoping and praying that she hadn’t said too much, yet knowing that she was right.

  “Do you want to get to know me better?” Simon asked. Caitlin saw the smirk on his face, but heard in his voice a faint note of yearning, of wanting.

  “Yes, I do, Simon.”

  “You might not like what you discover.”

  “I know what I’m in for,” she said quietly.

  Now he sat across from her, one hand cradling hers, the other tracing her knuckles. He laughed softly, then looked up at her again. “I don’t think you know what you’ve done to me, Caitlin. For years I’ve been on my own. I’ve done what I’ve wanted to do. I’ve made money and lost money and none of it mattered. I’ve never been a responsible kind of guy because I’ve never wanted to have something that I couldn’t afford to lose. But you’ve made me take another look at myself.” He shook his head, as if trying to understand it himself. “I didn’t like what I saw. I was angry that you made me vulnerable. I’ve been trying all my life to be tough and strong. To be independent.” He squeezed her hand, hard. “Now I’ve been reading the Bible, struggling with what God wants me to be. Trying to accept obligations. I don’t know if I can do it.”

  His words alternately warmed and chilled her. “What are you trying to say, Simon?”

  Simon lifted her hand up to his mouth and touched his lips to it. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I just know that I care about you and that your opinion is important to me.” He blew out his breath in a sigh that caressed her hand. “When I was sick, that last night you were with me in the hospital, you were reading that passage from Isaiah, something about comfort. I know what I have to do, but I’m not sure I’m ready to do it yet.” He shrugged and gently lowered her hand to the table.

  Caitlin smiled. “Well, then, I guess I have to keep praying for you, Simon.”

  He smiled back and gave her hand a quick
squeeze. “You do that, Caitlin Severn.”

  The talk had gotten heavy, yet Caitlin felt a lightness pervade the atmosphere. As if a foundation had been laid. But she could see from Simon’s frown that it was time to change the subject.

  “So, tell me about Oscar. How in the world did you two ever meet up?”

  Simon lifted his head, smiling. “That’s a long story.”

  Caitlin shrugged, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got tomorrow off, so I’ve got time.”

  So he told her. The talk moved from Oscar to books they had read, places they’d been. Simon was well traveled, she discovered. He’d been to places she had only dreamed of seeing, done things she had only imagined. Scuba diving off the Tasmanian coast, trekking in Nepal, taking his chances on the Trans-Siberian railway. She shook her head with every new adventure.

  “My life sounds horribly dull,” she said after he’d recounted a harrowing trip on a bus through Africa.

  Simon shrugged her comment away. “Traveling can be dull, too. Planes and hotels and rented cars. It’s all the same after a while, if you’re on your own.” He caught her eye and smiled a lazy smile. “It’s more fun with someone.”

  Caitlin’s breath caught in her throat at the suggestion in his eyes, his smile.

  “Aren’t there places you would love to go, Caitlin?” he asked, his voice lowering almost intimately.

  “Lots. I’ve always wanted to see Paris and Greece. The usual tourist travel destinations. I’m not much for adventure, I guess.”

  “I liked Paris. But it’s not a city you should visit on your own,” Simon said, leaning slightly forward, one corner of his mouth curved up in a smile. “Paris needs to be seen walking arm in arm with someone you care about.” He took her hand again, playing with her fingers.

  Caitlin felt her breath catch in her throat, felt her heart slow, miss a beat, then race as she understood the suggestion in his voice, his posture.

  What am I going to do with this man, Lord? He confuses me, makes me afraid, makes me want to care for him. She swallowed, her hand still in his as he ran his index finger over hers again and again.

  He looked up at her, his eyes intent, and Caitlin knew that if the table hadn’t separated them, he would have kissed her.

  And she would have let him.

  * * *

  The drive to Caitlin’s home was done in silence, an awareness humming between them. Each time Simon glanced sidelong at Caitlin, he could see her eyes glowing in the reflected light of his car’s dashboard.

  He couldn’t suppress the feelings of unworthiness that her gentle smile gave him. But he also knew that in spite of his feelings, he had to see her again. It was like a hollow need that only she could fill. He didn’t like the hold she had over him, but he liked even less the notion of not seeing her again.

  They pulled up to her house, the front window shedding light in the gathering darkness.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said, reaching for the door handle. “And the coffee.”

  Simon watched her turn, watched as she pulled her purse close to her in readiness to get out. “Wait,” he said softly, catching her arm.

  She turned to face him, her eyes wide. “What?”

  Simon let his eyes drift over her face, come to rest on her softly parted mouth. Ignoring the cold voice of reason, he bent over and fitted his mouth to hers. The kiss started out so gentle, so plain, but then she murmured his name, slipped her arms around him, pulled him closer.

  And he was undone. He caught her close, almost crushing her, his mouth slanting over hers.

  Simon was the first to draw away, his eyes seeking hers, his hand reaching up to touch her mouth in wonder.

  “What are you doing to me?” he murmured, remembering his own response the last time he had kissed her. The absolute rightness of having her in his arms, the sweetness that pierced him when she spoke his name.

  “Kissing you, I thought,” she replied, her voice trembling.

  Simon drew in a careful breath, unable to suppress the smile that threatened to crack his jaw. He stroked her hair back from her face, just because he wanted to. He didn’t want to think about what was happening to him, didn’t want to think that he was running the risk of making himself vulnerable to another person. This was Caitlin. She wasn’t just anybody, he reasoned.

  “Are you busy tomorrow?” he asked, looking down into her soft green eyes, losing himself in their warmth.

  She shook her head. “Not until the evening,” she whispered.

  “How would you like to take a trip up-island? I have a place I want to have a look at.” Not the most romantic date he had ever taken a woman on, but he sensed with Caitlin he needed to take things slow. For his own protection as much as anything. Maybe spending some more time with her would ease the ache thinking about her created in him.

  Maybe pigs could fly, he thought.

  “I’d like that,” she said with a soft murmur. She touched his cheek, stroking it lightly with warm fingers.

  “Good,” he replied, turning his head to kiss her fingertips. “I’ll pick you up at three.”

  She traced his mouth, smiling up at him. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, leaning closer to press a light kiss on his lips.

  Then she opened the car door, letting a blast of cold air in, jumped out and was striding up the walk to her parents’ house before he had a chance to open his own door.

  He got out and called to her over the hood. “You’re supposed to let me walk you to the door.”

  She turned, walking backward, laughing at him. “Next time,” she said. Then tossing a wave at him, she turned and jogged up the steps and went into the house.

  Bemused, Simon got back in his car, put it in gear and drove away. He felt bamboozled by what had happened. He had gone to the hospital simply to deliver flowers and ended up with a date with Caitlin Severn tomorrow. He wondered if he knew what he was getting himself into.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What do you plan to do with it?” Caitlin asked, as Simon unlocked the front door of the old Victorian house.

  “It’s an investment,” Simon replied, standing aside to allow Caitlin to walk into the main foyer. Their footsteps echoed in the large open hallway. To one side was a set of doors, now boarded up. The other set of doors led to a large open room and a hallway flanked the large, wide stairs directly in front of them.

  “Oh, look at that.” Caitlin ran up the first flight of stairs, stopping at the landing. A stained-glass window shed a colored pattern of diffused light on the landing. “This doesn’t look Victorian.”

  “I suspect one of the hippies that lived here made it.” Simon came up beside her, his hands in his pockets.

  They walked upstairs, inspecting each room. The heavy odor of incense hung in one of the rooms and in the other, dark paper covered a broken window. Water stains on the ceilings attested to the need for a new roof.

  “It’s going to be a pile of work, Simon. Are you sure you want to even bother?” Caitlin shook her head as they walked down the hall.

  Simon shrugged, reaching around her to open the door of the last room. “A person could always bulldoze it and build a new one.” He had to push to open the door and when they stepped inside the room, Caitlin had to stop her surprised gasp. Windows from floor to ceiling ran along one wall and flowed in a three-quarter circle instead of a corner to the other wall. “This is beautiful,” she breathed, walking farther into the room, straight to the semicircle of windows. “Wouldn’t a set of chairs be just perfect here?” She stepped closer to the window, resting her fingertips lightly against it as if to touch the view.

  Beyond the shoreline below them, beyond the water, she could see the mountains of the mainland with their variegated colors of blue, mauve and gray. A few gulls wheeled past them, celebrating
their utter freedom punctuated by their piercing cries.

  “This is just incredible.” She glanced over her shoulder, disconcerted to see Simon directly behind her. His hands were safely in the pockets of his khaki pants, holding back his leather jacket, but the way he looked down at her left her with no illusions as to what was on his mind.

  “It is incredible,” he agreed, his hazel eyes twinkling down at her.

  “I meant the view, Simon,” she said breathlessly.

  His lazy smile crawled across his beautiful mouth. “So did I,” he replied.

  Caitlin looked away, fully aware of Simon behind her, aware of the fact they stood in what was probably the master bedroom of this large, rambling house. For a brief moment she allowed herself a fantasy. Simon and her, standing together, looking out over a view they saw day after day.

  It would be early morning. They would each be getting ready for work, but taking time to just be together, sharing a quiet moment before the busyness of the day separated them.

  She let her eyes close as she hugged herself, unaware of the fact that she was slowly leaning back toward Simon until barely a breath separated them. Then his arms surrounded her, held her against him, his face buried in the hair that lay on her neck.

  “Caitlin,” he breathed, holding her closer, rocking her slightly.

  It was a small movement, a mere twisting of her head, a shifting of her weight, and her cheek touched his forehead. He lifted his head and once again, their lips met in a kiss as soft as a baby’s sigh.

  He was the first to draw back, and Caitlin murmured her disappointment. He dropped a light kiss on her forehead and then stepped back.

  Caitlin felt bereft and frustrated at the same time. She knew something important was building between them, but at the same time she didn’t know if she should trust her own feelings. She cared for Simon deeply and if she were to truly examine her feelings, she would be able to say she loved him.