the unit.
Had Dylan Malloy come back to mourn his sister? Or had he returned to Wild Horse Junction to claim his nephew?
Shaye took a few shallow breaths, reaching deep inside for the strength that had kept her going since the call about Julia and Will. Once in the hall, she motioned to the waiting room.
Instead of going in, Dylan paced. “I don’t want to be that far away.” His gaze shot back to the NICU. “Surely someone will tell us if he’s going to make it.”
When he ran his hand through his tawny hair, when she glimpsed again the primordial pain in his green eyes, she wished she could ease his grief. But no one could. “Have you spoken with the doctor?”
“When I was waiting for my flight in London.”
“Then you know this is all up to Timmy—how he responds to the antibiotics and the help they’re giving him.”
“I understand that. I certainly don’t understand everything else. Why did Will have Julia out in bad weather? She was almost seven months pregnant, for God’s sake!”
Understandably, Dylan was looking for somebody to blame, as people did when tragedy struck, and goodness knew Dylan and Julia had already experienced plenty of it. All Shaye could do was to tell him what she knew.
“Julia had been cooped up inside for over a week due to the bad weather. Will wouldn’t even let her step onto a snowy sidewalk because he was afraid she’d fall. But she was going stir crazy. The morning of—” Shaye’s voice broke in spite of her effort to put her own emotion aside.
Clearing her throat, she went on. “The morning of the accident, I stopped in to see her. She was in such a good mood. She said she’d cajoled Will into taking her to the Johnsons that night. The weather was supposed to hold and not turn until early morning.”
“The Johnsons practically live in the mountains,” Dylan muttered. “Those roads can be treacherous any time of the year, let alone when there’s snow on them.” He swore and turned away from her.
Unexpectedly, Shaye didn’t know what to do, and that was unusual for her. In her job as a social worker, she routinely handled sticky situations. But this one was personal. Something about this man touched her in an elemental way, and that, as well as the crisis with Timmy, made her uncertain.
Dylan faced her again, everything about him shouting restrained energy, restrained emotion, restrained frustration. “Did you know Julia was going to name you as guardian?”
“Yes, I did,” she answered quietly, bracing herself for whatever came next.
The nerve in his jaw worked. “Julia spoke often of you, Miss Bartholomew. I know you were good friends. But I need to know how this…legacy came about.”
“It’s Shaye,” she murmured, needing to be on a first-name basis without knowing why. With a nod, she motioned to the lounge again. “Let’s sit down.”
After a glance at the NICU, he followed her into the waiting room. Although she lowered herself onto one of the fabric-covered chairs, Dylan remained standing. She felt like a schoolgirl sitting in front of a principal, which was ridiculous. In her position as caseworker for the department of family services in the county, she’d learned to stand her ground. With two brothers to take care of, she’d had to be assertive or she would have been snowed under or trampled. However, in the presence of Dylan Malloy, her confidence seemed to vanish.
Taking a breath, she plunged in. “You know Julia and I met in college.”
He nodded, waiting.
“Since we were both from Wild Horse Junction, we caught rides together from Laramie to come home. At first I thought she was reserved. Then I found out she just used reserve to protect herself. She told me about what happened to your parents and about spending time in foster care.”
She remembered the story Julia had related about how Dylan and Walter Ludlow had become friends. At eighteen, Dylan had just graduated from high school and landed a job at the local paper. He’d walked into the attorney’s office saying, “I need a lawyer to petition the court to become my sister’s legal guardian.”
Julia had been eight and Dylan sixteen when they’d been orphaned, and Dylan had known his sister was unbearably unhappy in foster care. He’d moved heaven and earth to gain custody of her. He’d made sure she was safe, happy and secure until she’d gone to college. Then he’d left Wild Horse Junction to follow his own dreams.
“Julia never stopped telling me how grateful she was that you rescued her,” she added softly.
“Not soon enough,” he murmured, as if he was remembering all too well.
“As soon as you could.”
Seeming to ignore her comment, he said evenly, “After you graduated, you went on for your masters.”
“That’s right. By the time I returned to Wild Horse, Julia had met Will and they’d eloped.”
“She told me she didn’t want a big fancy wedding,” Dylan mused. “I wanted to give her one.”
“I think Julia and Will just wanted to start their life without fanfare. So many times she told me she wanted a home and family and someplace to belong.”
“She knew she could count on me,” Dylan insisted.
“Yes, she knew that, but she also realized you’d sacrificed for her for eight years. Eight years you put your dreams aside for her. She knew how much being a wildlife photographer meant to you.”
“Not as much as she did,” he protested quickly.
“You proved that,” Shaye reassured him. “You stayed here and worked on the paper when all you wanted to do was to catch a plane to someplace exotic.”
His green eyes became piercing in their intensity. “You seem to know a lot about me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s an uncomfortable feeling when I don’t know you. Have you had experience taking care of kids?”
“In my job I sometimes have to. But besides that— My mother died when I was ten. I had brothers who were eight and five. My father, a cardiologist, was gone a lot, so I had to take care of them.”
“On your own?”
“No, he hired a housekeeper, but she didn’t tell bedtime stories or know where they left their favorite toy. She didn’t take the time to make peanut butter and marshmallow crackers or help them build a clubhouse.”
“You were a sister and a mother hen?” Dylan asked perceptively.
“Sometimes that boundary blurred. I’m not so sure my brothers didn’t resent it as much as appreciate it.”
Dylan looked across the room out the window, as if trying to see into the past—perhaps the years in foster care…the years when Julia was his life…the years when he pursued his vocation. “I never tried to be a father to Julia. We were brother and sister and that was the only bond we needed. At least, I thought so.”
Now she could see he was thinking about Timmy and maybe wondering exactly why Julia had asked her to be guardian rather than him. She had explained, but maybe that explanation hadn’t been enough.
Footsteps sounded outside the waiting room and Dr. Carrera stepped inside. “We’ve got Timmy stabilized again and we’re monitoring him closely. I think it would be better for you and him if you just give us some time here. Take a break. Get something to eat or take a walk.”
“What if something happens?” She’d been staying close, hoping in some way that would help.
“I have your cell phone number,” the physician said kindly.
“You have mine, too,” Dylan interjected gruffly. “I left it with the nurses at the desk.”
The doctor looked from one of them to the other.