Del carried in her small suitcase and the wheelchair he’d rented. He’d already brought over the rest of her luggage from the house. Then he returned to the car and opened the passenger door. Josie looked at him.
“Why did you take the wheelchair inside?” she asked. “I’ll need it to get in.”
He jerked his head toward the two steps leading up to the front door. “I don’t have a ramp, and you can’t maneuver over those. I’ll carry you.”
Before she could protest, he swept her up in his arms. When she was secure, he turned, bumping the door closed with his hip and heading for the house.
He told himself he was simply being expedient, that holding Josie like this didn’t mean anything. But he couldn’t help remembering all the other times he’d swept her up in his arms. His intent had usually been to get her somewhere private so they could make love. Now he was being a friend. Nothing more. Except he noticed all kinds of details. Like the fact that she felt different in his arms. Soft, rounder. She was a little heavier, though nothing he couldn’t handle. But the scent of her was the same. The sweet fragrance of her skin and her hair. Her arm around his neck felt the same, too. All that was missing was her mouth pressing against his as they stumbled toward their passionate release.
No passion this time, he reminded himself. He entered the house and bumped that door closed, as well. Then he set Josie down into her wheelchair. He was startled to feel her stiffen as he put her into the seat. Instantly he dropped to one knee beside her.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head without speaking, turning her head from him. But not before he caught the gleam of tears in her eyes. Josie? Crying?
“What is it?” he asked. “Tell me.”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t fine. He could tell from the slump of her shoulders and the way she kept swallowing as if fighting back sobs.
She reached down for the wheels of the chair, as if to move away from him. He put his hand on the frame to stop her.
“Tell me what the hell is going on,” he insisted.
She whipped her head back to stare at him. He’d been right. Actual tears glittered in her eyes. She blinked and one slipped down her cheek. He reached up and caught it on the tip of his index finger. Del felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut.
“I can’t do this,” she said, then sniffed. “I just can’t be in a wheelchair. It’s too horrible.”
He felt instantly helpless. He could try to imagine what Josie was going through, but he couldn’t do more than empathize.
“It’s only for a few weeks,” he told her, taking one of her hands in his and squeezing it gently. Her fingers felt warm and familiar. He ignored the image of them touching him and instead focused on the in-progress conversation. “Your body needs time to heal. With rest and physical therapy, you’ll be up and around in no time. While you’re healing, you have the run of this place. I’ve taken up all the rugs, so you shouldn’t have any trouble getting around. Just don’t try any wheelies in the hallway, okay?”
His attempt at humor fell flat. She didn’t even crack a smile. Instead she glared at him as if he had the intelligence of an amoeba.
“I don’t understand why you’re being so incredibly stupid about this,” she said, practically sputtering with frustration. “I don’t care about being back in a wheelchair, I care about being in a wheelchair in front of you.”
With that she jerked hard on the wheels and spun away from him. She started across the living room, moving faster than he would have thought possible for someone in her weakened condition.
Slowly he rose to his feet and stared after her. His mind took off in multiple directions. Even as her confession shocked him and her pain touched him, he couldn’t help noticing how well she handled the chair. Obviously, she’d spent enough time in it to become an expert. It was more proof of all she’d been through.
He swore under his breath and took off after her, grabbing her chair just before she entered the hall.
“Wait,” he insisted. “We have to talk.”
“Actually, we don’t.”
“Josie, please. It’s important.”
He released her and waited. Slowly, almost painfully, she turned until she faced him. She had to look up to meet his gaze. Instinctively he dropped to his knees so they were on the same level.
“I don’t care that you’re in a wheelchair,” he told her.
“Bull. I know what happens. I’ve lived through it before. You’re not even going to see me as a person anymore. I hate that. And I hate the control you have over me. You can grab me and turn me, taking me in any direction you want. I can’t do anything but hang on for the ride.”
What she was really saying was she hated the loss of control of her life.
“You’re wrong,” he said gently. “You being in a wheelchair means I finally get to see you as a person rather than a force of nature or a hellcat on wheels.” He paused. “Although I guess technically you’re more on wheels now than you were before.”
Surprisingly, one corner of her mouth turned up. “Very funny,” she said in a tone that indicated it was anything but.
“Oh, come on. You wanted to laugh or, at the very least, chuckle.” He lightly touched the back of her hand. “You’re just Josie to me. I’m still getting used to all the differences. Not just the wheelchair but the way you look, the long hair, the dresses. No one thing is that much better or worse than the other.”
“It is for me.”
“Okay. I accept that. But don’t assume what I’m thinking, okay? Let me screw up before you yell at me.”
“That won’t take very long,” she grumbled. “You’re bound to mess up sometime in the next fifteen minutes.”
“Ladies first,” he quipped, then stood. “Come on. Let me show you around. I’ve made a few changes in the house since you were here last.”
He started toward the kitchen, not sure she would follow. But eventually he heard the soft sound of rubber wheels on the hardwood floor. He stepped into the three-sided room. Where the fourth wall had been stood a center island. The old, dark cabinets had been replaced with pine. Several of the doors were etched glass instead of wood. Light granite countertops matched the color of the tile floor.
Josie wheeled her way around the area, coming to a stop in front of the six-burner stove. She raised her eyebrows as she touched the knobs.
“Either you ordered the wrong thing or you’ve taken up cooking in a big way.”
He grinned. “Neither. A customer ordered it, then changed her mind. I needed a stove and decided to keep it for myself.”
She nodded, then glanced around, taking in the recessed refrigerator and sliding cabinets concealing the small appliances.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“I figure it will help if I ever sell the place.”
She looked at him. “All this and you really don’t cook?”
“I heat microwave meals.”
He took a breath to continue speaking, then clamped his mouth shut. Telling Josie that his various girlfriends had, from time to time, prepared meals in the gourmet kitchen probably wasn’t a good idea. It wasn’t something she would want to hear, and he found himself not wanting to tell her.
Which led his brain down another path. Did Josie have someone special in her life? Someone who took care of her and worried about her? He leaned back against the island and realized it wasn’t likely. At least not right now. No way would some guy let her come up here on her own.
Had there been someone before? A boyfriend or lover? He found himself torn between not liking the idea of another man with his ex-wife, which was crazy, and hoping that she hadn’t had to go through her recovery alone. He knew that if he and Josie had still been together when she’d been hit by the truck, he would have been with her every moment of every day. Oddly enough, he thought she would have done the same for him.
Josie tilted her head and pointed at the upper row of cupboards. “If the dishes and glasses are up there, you’re going to have to move them. I can’t reach anything higher than the counter.”
He hadn’t thought about that. “No problem. I’ll move some stuff around this afternoon and show you where I put it all later.”
“Sounds good. So what other changes have there been?”
He led her around the center island to the family room, where a big-screen television took up the place of honor on the far wall.
“There’s surround sound, too,” he said proudly.
She laughed. “A man and his toys.”
“Hey, watch it. Have you seen a movie on DVD? The difference from video is amazing. I switched a couple of years ago and don’t ever want to go back. You wait. You’ll get hooked, too.”
She rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond. Instead she followed him past the living room and down the main hall. He’d been fine with Josie sharing the house with him. At least in theory. But now, heading toward the guest room, awkwardness descended. She’d been his wife. She’d shared his bed, his life and his heart. Was she really going to sleep in the guest room, as if they’d never been more than casual friends?
“You redid the front bath,” she commented.
He turned and saw she’d paused at the entrance to the small bathroom.
“It’s nice,” she said. “I like the tile.”
He’d used a blue-and-white floral print. Not his first choice, but a bunch of it had been left over from a job. He’d gotten it at cost, so it made sense to use it.
“I, ah, I thought you’d be comfortable in the rear guest room,” he said, pointing down the hall. “It’s big and the bathroom has more room.”
“That’s fine.”
She smiled but seemed to be avoiding his gaze.
Silently they moved down the hall. Del entered the guest room first. The regular bed had been stored in the garage. In its place was a rented hospital bed and a rolling table. The doctor had given him a list of supplies to have on hand. Del surveyed the walker, the television sitting on a wall shelf so it was easily visible from the bed and the floor lamp, positioned to provide nighttime reading light.
“If I forgot anything,” he said turning to face her, “just let me know. I can…”
His voice trailed off as he took in the look of horror on Josie’s face. Horror turned to sadness, followed by such painful resignation that Del found it hard to breathe. He couldn’t remember another time when he’d known so clearly what Josie was thinking. Her pain became his pain. He wanted to scream out against the fates, protesting that it wasn’t fair. That she deserved better. He wanted-
He forced himself to breathe slowly. Whatever he wanted, he couldn’t do a damn thing to change her circumstances.
Josie waved at all the furniture. “You went to a lot of trouble. I appreciate that. I’ll reimburse you for everything, of course.”
“I don’t need the money.”
“Yes, well, it’s the right thing to do. And you went to a lot of trouble,” she repeated awkwardly. She rolled over to the walker and touched the metal frame. “At least I’m allowed to use this a few times a day. You don’t need to be responsible for helping me in and out of the shower.”
He had an instant image of her, wet and naked. Hardly hazardous duty. Hot desire threatened, but he pushed it away. He had no business thinking of her like that. She was his guest. She was here to heal, not provide nighttime entertainment. But he couldn’t help remembering how attracted he’d been to Rose-make that Josie when she’d been pretending to be Rose.
Del shifted uneasily, unable to separate the stranger who had intrigued him from the wife he’d known before. Regardless, something about Rose/Josie had turned him on. He’d liked her feminine appearance, her smile, her body.
Apparently unaware of his inappropriate thoughts, Josie wheeled over to the suitcases he’d set by the bed.
“You packed for me,” she said.
“I doubted you could manage it for yourself. Do you want me to unpack for you as well?”
“No. I can do it. If you would please put the suitcases on the bed, I’ll take care of the rest. Or at least most of it. I’ll need you to hang a few things for me. After I get unpacked, I think I’ll take a nap. I’m pretty tired.”
He hurried to do as she requested, laying her suitcases next to each other on the hospital bed mattress. It felt odd to be doing things for Josie. She never wanted help from anyone. She was always independent.
But as he watched her maneuver the wheelchair, he had to admit that nothing would ever be the same for her again. And Annie May had been right. The past year had been a trial by fire for Josie. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been before.
He had a sudden burning desire to get to know the new Josie Scott. What parts of his wife remained and what parts were different? Would she be the same when she was angry, refusing to talk and wanting to walk out? Would she make love with the same abandon and aggression or would she-
His gaze settled on her long, blond hair, then moved to her legs. She wouldn’t be the same, he realized. Her physical capabilities had been diminished. He ached for her, knowing that must be the worst of it for her. Not being able to move with the freedom she’d always known. Making love would be different, but it might be better. For once he might be able to hold her as long as he wanted without her bounding away. What was it he’d said to Rose? That Josie preferred the physical to the emotional?
He groaned out loud. Josie glanced up at him. She was in the process of draping dresses across her lap so she could carry them to the closet.
“What’s wrong?”
Del couldn’t remember being embarrassed many times in his life, but this was one of them. Unfamiliar heat seemed to fill his body-but not the good kind of heat. He swallowed and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, barely able to look at her.
She frowned. “About what?”
“Those things I said. You know.” He pulled one hand free and made a vague gesture. “When I thought you were Rose. I shouldn’t have talked about you that way.”
“Oh.” She ducked her head. “Yes, well, I asked, didn’t I?” She drew in a deep breath and looked at him. “Don’t apologize. It’s not necessary. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll spend some time coming up with burning truths about you and I’ll share them later. Then we’ll be even.”
She held out her dresses to him. “Would you please hang these for me? I won’t be able to reach the rod.”
He took her clothes and hurried to the closet. The task kept him busy for several minutes as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to say now. He’d been an idiot. Why hadn’t he just kept his mouth shut? But no. He had to go spouting off.
As if his own personal humiliation wasn’t enough, Annie May’s words came back to haunt him. A couple of days before, she’d accused him of only pretending to compromise so that he could be the good guy while Josie took all the blame. He still didn’t know if his friend had been right or not. But he was beginning to see the faults in their marriage might not have been as black-and-white as he would like.
Josie sat by the window and stared into the growing twilight. She knew that she couldn’t hide in her room forever, although when the alternative was to face Del, it didn’t seem like such a bad plan.
She’d managed to sleep a little after she’d unpacked. The nap had given her energy, although it had done little to brighten her spirits. She’d been prepared to have to deal with Del for a few weeks when she’d known that he’d offered to take care of her until she was walking again. She hadn’t counted on having to live and breathe within the same walls that had witnessed the disintegration of their marriage.
A whisper of music teased at her memory, and she recalled a song about ghosts in the house. Fleeting remnants of memories tangling with wishes of what could have been. That’s how she felt-surrounded by ghosts, some friendly, some not. If only…The magical phrase. If only things had been different.
A light knock on her closed door made her turn her chair. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress, then she called out for Del to enter.
He stuck his head around the door and grinned. “Dinner has arrived,” he said with a wink. “I emphasize the word arrived because I had no hand in the preparation. No. I take that back. I made the phone call. That should count for something. It’s Mexican and I ordered your favorites. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Then come on. It’s getting cold.”
She forced herself to wheel toward him. He wore jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt. Nothing special. Yet he was painfully handsome, and just looking at him made her heart beat faster than was healthy.
He held the door open wide, then fell into step behind her. Self-consciousness settled on her like a cloak. She hated the feeling. She also hated that he so obviously felt sorry for her. She would rather he was angry and raging than pitying her. Everything about the circumstances that forced them back into the same house made her crazy. Worse, she couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
She went into the kitchen and found the takeout containers spread over the round pine table. A space had been made for her wheelchair. She moved toward it, but even before she got there, she knew she was going to be too low.
Del stepped behind her. “I was afraid of that,” he said, then bent toward her. “If my lady would allow me?”
Before she could protest, he’d gathered her in his arms and lifted her to a regular seat.
Josie caught her breath as his strength surrounded her. He lifted her effortlessly, as if she hadn’t gained twenty pounds in the past year. As if her being an invalid didn’t matter.
She didn’t want him to let her go. She wanted to cling to him until all her doubts disappeared and she felt whole again. Which wasn’t going to happen. To cover her weakness she busied herself with her napkin.
“If you bring the walker into the kitchen before meals,” she said, studying the containers of food rather than him, “I can get into a regular chair by myself.”
He sat down across from her and winked. “But what if I like picking you up and carrying you around?”
“Like I’m the family cat?”
He tilted his head and studied her. “No. I don’t think of you as a cat.”
Before she could come up with a snappy response, he pointed to the different containers. “As promised, all your favorites. Fajitas, rice, a quesadilla and those crunchy things you like.” He opened a bag and dumped chips into a bowl. “There is both hot and regular sauce. I didn’t bother with margaritas because you’re still on antibiotics, which means you can’t drink alcohol, but I have just about everything else. What will it be? Soda, juice, water?”
“Water’s fine.”
Josie felt awkward and faintly foolish. She reached for a chip and nibbled on it. Del got her a glass of ice water and a beer for himself. When he was settled across from her again, he pushed the fajitas and the foil-wrapped tortillas toward her.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m feeling a lot better.” She filled a warm tortilla with a grilled steak and vegetable combination, then spooned the hot salsa over the filling.
Del munched on a chip. “Remember when we went to Mexico that one time,” he said, taking the fajitas she’d pushed toward him.
Josie took a bite of her dinner and chewed. Mexico. She and Del had vacationed there during the first year of their marriage. “We had a good time,” she said when she’d swallowed. “Well, except for that one night.”
He grinned. “Hey, it wasn’t the night that was so bad. It was the next morning.”
She found herself smiling in return. “Too many margaritas,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that sick in my life.”
“But we recovered quickly. Probably because we were so young.”
“We had to have been younger. Older people have matured and know better than to drink that much.”
They’d also made love, she thought taking a bite of rice. In those days they hadn’t been able to get enough of each other. Nearly every afternoon had included a lengthy session of intimacy.
“You made me dive off that cliff,” he said.
Josie wrinkled her nose. “I’d nearly forgotten. You were terrified. I was sure you were going to back out at the last minute.”
“No way. You’d already jumped, so what could I do? Be a wiener dog in front of everyone in line?” He laughed. “At least I survived.”
She remembered the long plunge to the water and the contrast between the heat on the top of the cliff and the cool, swirling water below. “It was great. You loved it.”
His dark gaze met hers. Something almost affectionate glinted there. “Actually I did love it. I’m glad you talked me into it.”
They shared a few more memories, then quieted to eat. Josie managed to work her way through a fair amount of food. She wasn’t especially hungry but she knew she had to make sure she kept up her strength. Not eating much or well was one of the reasons she’d had the relapse in the first place.
“Josie?”
She glanced at him. He’d finished his dinner and was leaning back in his chair. To their left was the family room with its he-man television.
“What?”
He wadded up his paper napkin and tossed it onto the table. “When we were married we talked about dividing up the work around the house.”
“I remember.”
He shifted as if he were uncomfortable with the topic. Josie pushed away her plate. Suddenly her stomach didn’t feel very good.
“I automatically took the yard work for myself,” he said. “I guess because it’s a more traditional male chore. Would you have liked to have done it?”
She hadn’t had a clue about what he was going say, but she would never have guessed the topic to be yard work. It took her a couple of seconds to switch gears and respond to his question.
“Um, yeah, I think I would,” she said slowly. “I have always enjoyed being outdoors and I like working with plants. Sure. It would have been fun. At the risk of starting trouble, that is a very strange question. Want to tell me what brought it up?”
His mouth twisted slightly. “Annie May. I spoke to her a couple of days ago. She took great delight in pointing out all my flaws. One of them was my insistence that we compromise on the household chores. But instead of writing down all that needed to be done and deciding together how to split them, I came up with the compromise all on my own. Which, as she said, is the same as making sure it’s going my way. I wanted you to agree, not to give me input.”
Josie opened her mouth, then closed it. She’d never thought about their problems in that light, but it made sense. Del had insisted on coming up with the compromises when there had been trouble. Some had been fine, but others she’d really hated. And when she’d protested, he’d accused her of not being willing to do her share. She’d been trapped without a way to win.
“I hadn’t thought about it like that, but you could be right,” she told him. “We had all those fights about cooking. I always hated it. I grew up on a ranch, so I was used to hard work. I didn’t mind that, but I would rather have done anything than get stuck in the kitchen.” She leaned forward slightly. “Not only didn’t I know what I was doing, but I constantly worried about being compared to your mom. The woman is practically perfect. I always knew I was going to come up short. In my effort to avoid spending my life fetching for someone else, I probably went overboard to protect my interests.”
Del nodded slowly. “I was crazy about the whole thing, too. Somehow cooking dinner and doing the laundry became a power play for us. We lost sight of getting the work done and focused on who had to do it and when. I never saw how expecting you to cook all the meals and be responsible for having food in the house would make you feel. I eat, too. I could have learned.”
“Or hired your mom,” she teased.
“I don’t think I could have afforded her.” He shifted closer. “I’m sorry, Josie. I didn’t mean to be such a jerk about it all.”
His apology made her glow on the inside. After all these years she was finally finding out that maybe she hadn’t been as horrible as she’d thought during their marriage. Maybe they’d both been at fault. She would have to give that concept some thought.
“I’m sorry, too,” she murmured. “We kind of got stuck in a bad place and couldn’t find our way out.”
He nodded. “When I think back on it, I still don’t know what went wrong that last year. I wanted to make it all your fault, because that made it easy for me. But it wasn’t. I have blame, too.”
He finished his beer and set the bottle on the table. “You’re not a quitter, Josie. I’ve always admired that about you.”
She laughed. “Thanks. As my dad used to say, ‘Fitzgeralds don’t give up.’”
“Then why did you give up on us?”
The difficult question-quietly spoken-caught her off guard. She searched her heart for an honest answer. “I’m not sure I gave up so much as I got tired of always losing,” she admitted. “We were both young. I know I was way too young to be married. I didn’t know how to be in that kind of intimate one-on-one relationship. I should have compromised more, but you’re right. You were always the one coming up with the compromise. If I agreed, it felt too much like giving in. I felt as if I was bending all the time. Some days I thought I would snap. Sometimes I wanted you to bend.”
Del nodded. “And here I thought I was the one doing the giving in. But I wasn’t. I could make a case for it, and from the outside it looked great. But it was for show. I didn’t compromise in my heart.”
She looked at the man sitting across from her. He had once been her husband, but now he was a stranger. While she appreciated the rehash of old times and the insights, she couldn’t help feeling a little sad. After all, wasn’t the information coming too late to do any good? If only they’d figured this out three years ago.
“I’m not proud of some of the things I did in our marriage,” she told him. “I was stubborn. You used to tell me it’s because I was so like my dad.”
“Which you hated me saying.”
“I did. But it was true. Now, after having been through the accident and a year of recovery, I have to admit I’m glad I’m like him. It can make me difficult, but that same stubbornness and determination also got me through everything else. Without that drive and will, I might have given up.”
“I agree. Everyone has good and bad inside. You’re no different from the rest of us.”
“Oh, I think my bad might be a little louder than anyone else’s.”
They laughed. Then Del surprised her by stretching his hand out across the table. He held it there, palm up, obviously waiting for her to place her hand in his. Feeling self-conscious and exposed, she did as he silently requested. When his fingers grasped hers, he looked directly into her eyes.
“I want us to start over, Josie,” he said. “This time let’s try to be friends. What do you say?”
“I’d like that.”
“Good.”
He squeezed her fingers, then released them. As she returned her hand to her lap, she wondered what he would think if he knew the truth. That she wanted to be much more than friends. She wanted a second chance. She wanted to heal the old wounds so they could begin again. She wanted him to fall in love with her the way she was falling in love with him.