to take over, and on autopilot she wound up beside his chair. “Would you like something hot to drink while I’m up?”
“No.”
He didn’t look up from his book. Not the most talkative of fellows. Aubrey wasn’t at all sure she should like this guy, but there was something about him sitting there all alone, his entire body tense, and he didn’t look comfortable being here. Somehow the overhead light seemed to glance off him, leaving him lost in the shadows.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the hot water carafe on the heating plate. Why did this man unsteady her? He had a powerful presence and his gaze was sharp enough to cut stone. That ought to be enough, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Just as it wasn’t only curiosity that had her watching him out of the corner of her eye as she dunked the tea bag up and down in her little foam cup of steaming water.
The volunteer at the desk looked up from the newspaper she was reading, glanced in William Corey’s direction and gave Aubrey a knowing kind of smile as if to say, he is a handsome one.
Aubrey had to admit that she’d already noticed he was extremely handsome. It was a purely objective observation, of course.
He lifted his focus from his book and studied her through the curve of his long dark lashes. Microseconds stretched out into an uncomfortable tension as his eyes locked with hers. She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or angered, then the left corner of his mouth quirked up into a hint of a grin.
Who knew the man could actually smile?
“What?”
That was sort of an invitation to talk, right? Aubrey dropped two sugar cubes into her cup and headed toward him. “I was wondering how you know Danielle and Jonas.”
“I only know Jonas.”
“Then why do you want to see Danielle?”
“It’s personal.”
That’s all he had to say. Aubrey stared at the man. He’d gone back to his reading. “I see you’re a very forthcoming type. And talkative.”
“I can be.”
“Talkative? I don’t believe that.” Did she detect another hint of a grin?
He shrugged one big shoulder. “I’m not here to talk to you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked into a definite, one-sided grin, not an amused one, but enough so that it softened the granite features of his face and hinted at a man with a good-humored nature behind the hard stone.
“I owe Jonas a favor, that’s why I’m here.” His eyes darkened with a terrible sadness.
Sadness she could feel.
He went on. “I want to know what I can do for Danielle. How I can help. Make a difference in their lives.” He paused. “The way Jonas had once done for me.”
“Jonas helped a lot of people in the line of duty.”
“I imagine.” He gave a curt nod, as if it were all he could manage. He swallowed hard, and his sorrow was a palpable thing drawing her closer. “I’m not handling this well. It’s the hospital. I’ve spent a lot of time in them.”
“In this one?”
“Yes.”
She slipped into the chair in the row next to him, leaving an empty seat between them. “Your story didn’t end well, did it? I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know why he was telling her this. What had happened to his resolve to keep this buried? “Four years, five months and twenty three days ago, no, twenty four days ago, my wife died in this hospital. One moment we were riding bikes on the shoulder of a country road, and the next, she was bleeding to death in my arms….”
He could feel the woman’s silence like a touch, her gaze on his face, her sympathy as soft as dawn’s light. The title on the front of the book he held began to blur. “Jonas answered the 911 call. He was going off duty, but he came to help. The paramedics were right behind him, but I’ll never forget what he did. He drove to the hospital and he sat with me while my wife was in surgery. I had no other family. No one else.”
That was all he could say. But there was more that Jonas had done, things that had made all the difference. A difference William could not face, much less put into ordinary words. He hung his head, willing the pain down and forcing his vision to clear.
Her hand settled on his arm, her touch light and comforting. He couldn’t explain why a sense of peace cut through the well of pain gathering deep within him. Or why she made the agony of an endless sorrow ebb away like low tide on a shore. He only knew how dangerous it was to open up to anyone, to let anyone in, and he jerked his arm away.
“Uh, there’s Danielle now,” Aubrey said in a startled voice, hopping to her feet, acting as if he hadn’t embarrassed her.
He was too overwhelmed to do anything more than close his book and try to find the will to stand, to greet Jonas’s wife with a voice that wouldn’t betray his own inner turmoil. He closed off everything else from his mind—even the bit of peace Aubrey had brought to him.
It was just about the saddest thing she’d heard. Aubrey ached for the man as she watched him amble down the hallway toward the elevators. Now that she knew what had happened to him and the loss he’d suffered, she could see that he was walking around broken down to the quick of his soul.
“I can’t believe this.” Danielle sank into the nearest chair in the waiting room and stared at the business card she held in her hand. “I’m too tired to think.”
She looked beyond exhausted, Aubrey thought as she eased into the chair beside her stepsister. Coincidentally, she discovered she had a perfect view of the elevator bank where William was waiting, head bowed, staring at the floor.
He’d jerked away from her. She’d meant to comfort him, and he pulled away as if she were hurting him more. She was embarrassed, yes, but it was nothing compared to the hurt she felt on his behalf.
“That man was William Corey. The photographer.” Danielle stared at the card. “I didn’t even know Jonas knew him. Wait, maybe I did. My brain is a total fog.”
“Did he tell you about the gift?”
“Oh, you mean he wanted to contribute to Jonas’s medical fund, except there isn’t one.” Danielle rubbed her hands over her face, so weary. “I told him about the funds we’re accepting for charity in his name. Oh, and I mentioned the auction fund-raiser thing you and Ava are coordinating with our church.”
Should she tell her about the anniversary gift? Aubrey wasn’t sure at this point that Danielle looked strong enough to take one more blow.
“Mr. Corey was interested in writing a check to Jonas’s medical fund, but I told him I wasn’t able to think about that much right now.” Danielle shrugged. She seemed frayed at the edges, at wit’s end, as if her heart had stopped beating. “I’ve got just about all I can cope with.”
Aubrey put her arm around her stepsister. “Did you get some sleep?”
“I’ll be fine. I—” Danielle shoved the business card in Aubrey’s direction. “I told him you or Ava would be in touch about that donation. It was nice of him, don’t you think?”
“I do. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Aubrey took the card, wrapping her hand around her sister’s. She willed all the sympathy she had into a prayer.
It was hard to know what exactly to pray for. For Jonas to miraculously recover? For Danielle’s marriage and family to be whole and happy, as before? To turn back time so that Jonas would not have been shot? Some things not even God could change. The past was one of those things.
Please, Father, make this come out all right.
But she didn’t see how. All she could see was her sister’s tenuous act of holding