Down the Hidden Path Page 5

  The motion helped clear Miah’s addled mind. He had to hold it together for her. She was lax in his arms, and he led her to the couch where she could sit.

  Without invitation, a vision of a younger Caleb entered Miah’s mind. His baby brother was seven and had found a mud hole where he’d proceeded to slather himself. It was Sunday morning and they were supposed to be going to church when a mud-covered Caleb rounded the edge of the house, his white eyes and bright smile the only things that distinguished him as a human.

  More memories of baby Caleb rushed into his thoughts. Miah’d been at his side when he took off his training wheels, when he’d skinned his knee climbing the off-limits cherry tree in Farmer Roger’s yard. Six years younger than him and a year younger than Charlee, Caleb was the baby. And now . . . now he was . . .

  “What happened?”

  Miah clutched his cell phone. “I don’t know exactly. He was in a caravan. Not sure if it was an IED or if they were attacked.” His hands threaded together and released around the device that would bring news of their brother. “Anyway, he’s in transit right now. I don’t know where he’ll end up.”

  “We need to be there. We can fly—”

  “Charlee, we could be chasing him for days before we’d catch up. As much as I hate to say it, we have to wait until they let us know what’s going on.” He’d run the scenarios in his mind already. Waiting. That’s what they had to do. Neither of them was good at it.

  She tugged him down on the couch beside her. “But Miah, he’s all alone. What if . . . what if—”

  He shook his head. “He won’t. Okay? Don’t even think that. He’s going to pull through. He’s a fighter.” But as he gave her his strongest, most stern look, he hoped she couldn’t see the doubt. Sometimes soldiers died. And there was nothing they could do to change that.

  She made tea while they waited for word on Caleb. Neither of them talked. Charlee had dragged a throw blanket over her legs and Miah sat soldier straight on the edge of her couch. The tea finally got cold sitting on the coffee table between them. Miah’d been there over an hour, clutching his phone and staring at it, willing information about their little brother. “When will Ian be back?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Miah rubbed his hands through his hair. “He needs to be here.”

  “How do you know someone will call tonight?”

  Miah sat the phone on the table. “Called in some favors from some of the higher-ups.”

  Charlee nodded. “They’re doing this because of Dad, aren’t they?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Dad’s still taking care of all of us, even though he’s gone.” Miah choked a little on the last word because they’d lost enough already. First their mom, then their dad. It wouldn’t be fair . . . couldn’t be right to lose Caleb, too. Surely the two of them wouldn’t have to plan their baby brother’s funeral.

  When he could take the quiet no more, Miah went out front and got an armload of firewood. Fall was still in full swing in the Ozarks, meaning comfortable days and chilly nights. The leaves were turning brown and falling from the trees and it really wasn’t cold enough for a fire, but he chose to make one anyway. Charlee followed him, grabbing up the smaller pieces of timber and opening the front door.

  It wasn’t long until the fire was blazing and Charlee was opening the windows to balance the warmth of the cabin. Two hours later, the call came in. Caleb was alive. And that’s all the good news they were given.

  Eighty-seven days after Caleb’s accident, Miah was informed he could make preparations to bring Caleb home. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but what in life ever was? Miah focused his attention on the lake, fog rolling off the water, low clouds surrounding the top of McKinley Mountain. He’d hiked it multiple times. All the McKinley boys had, including Caleb. At the hospital in Tampa where Caleb had spent the last three months, they’d talked about hiking it again one day. Miah had no idea if Caleb would ever be able to do it, and that thought alone brought the tears he’d kept at bay until now. He swiped the back of his hand over his eyes and looked down at the letter in his grasp. Clearing his throat, he began to read.

  Dear Dad,

  I should have been keeping you up to date on what’s going on here. Caleb is doing better, but still not a hundred percent. Christmas came and went and Charlee and I spent more time in hospital waiting rooms than we did at home. Caleb’s still at Tampa. He has therapy daily. Multiple times throughout the day, in fact. And for being in a hospital, they sure keep him occupied.

  He’s had a brain injury, Dad. The first time I saw him, I felt my chest caving in on me. And it made me realize how hard it must be to be a father and watch your child hurting. But don’t worry, Dad. I’m going to take care of Caleb. No matter what. I’m splitting my time between Tampa and the lodge right now. When I’m there, I sit for long hours and think about all the things that need to be done at the lodge. When I’m home, I work around the clock making a safe place for Caleb. We’ll be okay, Dad. I swear.

  Love, Jeremiah

  Miah folded the page and dropped it onto the fire. He could feel the gravel in his eyes from a late night after too little sleep and a long drive from Tampa. But in a week, he’d bring Caleb home. The edge of his letter caught after a billow of smoke slithered over the page. Miah rubbed his hands on his face, trying to wake up. In a couple hours, he had an important meeting.

  The hospital in River Rock was a small facility compared to the center in Tampa. Jeremiah’d come here after a shower and shot of coffee. A fresh wave of anxiety hit as he waited for the nurse. He’d scheduled an appointment with her once he knew he could bring Caleb home. Between his fingers, he rolled the pamphlet on traumatic brain injuries, nerves—a constant companion for him these days—getting the better of him. He’d read a thousand of these little leaflets and could probably write one himself now. After three months, he’d have thought he’d be used to this. But one never really got used to planning and executing things one should never have to for his baby brother. He thought back over the months. Seeing Caleb for the first time, head half shaved, swollen, bruised. Miah choked back the tightness in his throat and curled the paper a little tighter.

  The woman sitting across from him was a kind head nurse named Jamille. She ran the physical and occupational therapy departments of the facility. Smiles, looks of sympathy and sorrow crossed her face at specific times as he’d explained Caleb’s situation to her and the reason for his visit.

  She spoke. “I think at-home care would be in order. The problem will be finding someone qualified for the therapy he’ll need.”

  There was someone qualified, and he’d learned that little tidbit of information from his sister. “I was hoping maybe an occupational therapist working here might be interested in picking up some extra work.”

  She leaned her forearms on the desk, her left getting stuck on a manila folder. There were a few dozen more like it littering her desk. She shook loose from the file. “They told us automated was the way to go for our records. All on computer, it’ll be so much easier, they said. Now I have twice the paperwork and none of the help doing it.”

  Miah offered as much of a smile as he could muster. “Has anyone asked about extra work?”

  Gray worked part time here, from what Charlee had told him, so his inquiry wasn’t completely without some foreknowledge. He even felt a little bad about not going directly to the source, but the way Gray had acted when they’d run into one another didn’t really suggest a desire to reconnect. But things were different now. He needed her. He needed someone. She fit the bill and whether she wanted to admit it or not, making a living on a part-time wage couldn’t be easy.

  Jamille shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone here at the hospital who’s looking for more work. Have you tried an agency in Laver?”

  “No, ma’am. I was really hoping you might know of someone local.” He leaned forward i
n the stiff chair and shot her his best smile. “Please. If you can think of anyone. Anyone at all.” One blink. Two.

  The older woman stopped breathing, brows rising, eyes widening just a slight bit.

  Oh yeah. He had her.

  Then all the air left her lungs and she leaned out of his trajectory and shrugged. “Wish to heaven I could help you, but . . .” The shrug again.

  Huh. He must be losing his touch. “Sorry for wasting your time.” Miah stood and even he could sense the desperation he oozed. He stepped to the door, fighting that sense of hopelessness that continually threatened to take him. He dropped his head. “It’s just that it’s my baby brother.” He practically whispered the words because even now, it was hard, no, nearly impossible, to talk about this stuff.

  “How long has he been at Tampa?”

  She came around the desk and took hold of Miah’s arm as he was preparing to open the door to leave. This had been a mistake. “Three months.”

  She motioned for him to sit back down. When he did, she propped her weight on the edge of her desk, a half grin on her face. “I’ve got one girl.”

  Miah’s gaze shot up from the pamphlet about therapy to meet her eyes.

  “She’s PRN, meaning she works here as needed, which sadly hasn’t been that much. But I’m fairly certain she won’t be interested. She’s putting her house up for sale and . . .”

  Her house? Nana’s house? Charlee had told him she’d been working on it and he’d driven by several times when he’d stuck his head up out of his own renovation project, but for sale? “She’s leaving?”

  “Seems like. Said she’d planned to stay, but things hadn’t gone too well. There are OT jobs in every bigger city around here, just not here.”

  “Would it be okay to contact her?”

  She moved around the desk. “I can’t give you any information, but . . .” She looked him up and down. “Let me see what I can do.”

  Within moments she’d clicked away on the computer and had the desk phone at her ear.

  This was even better than he’d hoped. He knew he needed a professional recommendation to get past whatever roadblock Gray was hauling around with her.

  “I have a gentleman in my office who needs to hire an OT. Wondered if you may be interested?”

  She winked at Miah and nodded.

  “It’s local. No, it wouldn’t affect your PRN status. He’s assured me he will work with your hospital schedule.” Her brows rose high on her head in question.

  Miah nodded with vigor and mouthed, “Absolutely.”

  “Great. Maybe full time, maybe part time. But days only. No nights, no weekends. I know that’s important to you.” She placed her hand over the receiver and lowered it from her ear. “She sounds very enthusiastic. Even mumbled the word miracle.”

  Nurse Jamille went back to the conversation. “No, honey. I haven’t given him any of your information. Hospital policy. But he needs you to come see if his home is ready to receive the patient. That might be a good time for the two of you to meet and have a little interview.”

  Jeremiah’s heart was beating harder than it should, and most of it . . . most of it was because he’d have a qualified caregiver available for Caleb. Part of it was the fact that the caregiver was Gray. Then a thought struck him. What if it wasn’t Gray? What if it was someone else working PRN?

  The nurse laughed. “Okay, Mary Grace. I’ll let him know. I’ll text you the address. He said tomorrow at ten a.m. would work if that’s okay for you.” A pause. “You’re welcome. Oh, his name is McKinley. Jeremiah McKinley.”

  Gray’s hands were sweaty as she pulled to a stop at the end of Miah’s long driveway. She stared at her phone as if, magically, it would answer all her questions about this potentially disastrous situation. The phone was silent, giving her no answers since yesterday when Jamille had called and let her know about the job. Her stomach was as twisted as towels in a locker room and just like those terry weapons, she was about to snap.

  Breakfast threatened to revisit as two thoughts fought for dominance in her head. Number one, she couldn’t take this job. And number two, was it possible it was for Caleb?

  The second thought wrenched her gut because she’d heard around town that Caleb had been injured on the battlefield. And her heart had wanted to know the details but her mind forced her thoughts and questions away whenever the subject came up. She’d also become a master ninja avoiding anyone and everyone connected to the McKinleys, even hiding behind the door three times when Charlee had dropped by for that promised cup of coffee. Incognito was not too easy in River Rock.

  Now, here she sat in Miah’s driveway. Gray closed her eyes, drew a deep breath of courage, and stepped out of her car.

  By the time she had the door shut, she knew he was watching her. His gaze crawled over her skin like a hot breeze and she hadn’t even looked up at the house to see him yet. But she knew he was there, standing in a window and looking out at her. Growing up, she’d always known when Miah’s eyes were on her. They’d given her strength, courage, stability. Then later, as the two of them had gotten older, those eyes had given her hot flashes that ran from her spine into the deepest part of her stomach; they’d given her sleepless nights and the kinds of dreams teenage girls lived for. But now, they only gave her fear.

  The click of his front door caused her steps to falter. Get a grip. You can do this.

  He stepped out of the house. Gray painted on her best practiced smile and reached a hand out to shake his as she neared.

  He took two steps down off the front porch and still towered over her, golden eyes dancing in the morning light. He was dressed in jeans that fit him far too well and a pair of scuffed work boots. A red T-shirt stretched over his chest, and, oh Lord, it was hard not to trace the muscles beneath.

  His gaze narrowed playfully as he inspected the outstretched hand. Then he reached for her hand and even that somehow had a sensual sensation as his fingers slid over hers and interlocked.

  “Gray.” His voice was velvet. Did he have to say her name? It was too intimate, too personal.

  “Jeremiah—” She had a plan. A plan to explain that she could certainly check out the lodge to see if it was set up in a manner suitable for the patient. She’d brought booklets and paperwork and would explain how an occupational therapist worked and what could be expected. As she opened her mouth to dive in, his hand tightened on hers. A tremor passed from him to her and when Gray’s eyes again met his, she found him fighting tears.

  And suddenly the world had no oxygen. Her own throat closed. “Is it Caleb?”

  Massive shoulders quaked once, then again. His strong chin quivered, eyes filling with so many tears they seemed as if they’d float away. He swallowed and she knew he was battling to keep his composure. Everything in Gray’s mind about keeping things professional began to drain from her. He didn’t need to answer her question. Of course it was Caleb. And apparently, things were a lot worse than she’d anticipated.

  When he pressed his lips together in an attempt to regain control, she squeezed his hand.

  Miah sniffed, blinked, tried to smile.

  And she saw the boy she’d loved. All those years ago. She’d seen him do this very thing when his mom died. Trying to be strong, but Miah’s love ran deeper than most. He brushed his free hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve been really committed to not doing that.”

  He hadn’t allowed himself to crumble yet. Probably staying strong for Charlee and the other brothers while not allowing himself to cope with his own emotions about Caleb’s injury. “Jeremiah, you have to do this. Allow yourself to process.”

  He sniffed again, drawing strength from the world around. “Can’t. He’ll be here in a few days. Too much work to do.”

  She squeezed tighter. He was like a ticking time bomb. If he didn’t deal with this, at least to some degree, it’d fester and
eventually he’d explode. “Miah.” She released him long enough to drop her stack of papers and brochures on the porch floor.

  He started to turn, but with both hands free, Gray gripped his arm, turned him to face her. “Look at me,” she whispered. He’d closed his eyes and she knew it was because Miah couldn’t ever look at her and not tell the truth.

  Haunted eyes opened slowly and such a hard war was being waged there, it made her want to turn away. But she held him firmly. He had to break. He’d need to if he was going to be able to do any good for his brother. “How bad is it?”

  A sound that was neither a cry nor a groan caught in his throat.

  “How bad, Miah?”

  “It’s bad, Gray.” And then he broke, silent sobs racking his shoulders. Face contorted, body curled forward.

  She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Gray had once known Jeremiah better than anyone in the world. And though he’d gone away to be a strong soldier, she knew instinctively what he needed. She pulled him into her arms, wrapping herself around him as much as she possibly could. Gray held him so tightly it made her muscles ache, and there, standing on his front porch, Jeremiah cried.

  CHAPTER 4

  Of everything he’d planned to do to convince Gray to take the job, his display on the front porch hadn’t been part of the equation. But when he’d seen her there, all of his emotions surged up from that place where he’d put them. This was Gray. She’d been with him when his mom died. She’d known everything there was to know about him and had loved him anyway. That’s what best friends did. And when she’d stepped out of her car and headed toward him, she was no longer the occupational therapist he needed to hire. She was his best friend, and the years had melted away. She was there for him, just like she’d always promised she would be.

  After giving her the folder on Caleb’s injury and the recovery plan, he brought her a cup of hot chocolate because she was a terrible chocoholic and no one made cocoa like he did. He’d purchased real whipped cream for the top. She cradled the mug in her hands and sat down on his couch. “Tell me about it.”