“Quite the voice,” Ruth said, appearing at her side and handing her a glass of champagne. “Drink this.”
Carrie did as she was told, but the cold bubbles going down her throat did nothing to temper the heat rising in her body.
“I learned something very interesting about Singing Boy this evening,” Ruth said, sipping from her glass. “Did you know he spent a summer here when he was a teenager?”
“Dad just told me,” Carrie murmured, her attention still on the stage.
Ruth squealed and bounced on her heels beside her, which was finally enough to draw Carrie’s attention away from Nate for a moment. “What?”
“So, was it him?” Ruth asked. “Really? The famous kiss on the terrace?”
Carrie sighed, and turned back to Nate. “I think so.” Suddenly he looked so familiar, and she could feel his hand on her back as they danced on the terrace fourteen years ago.
“Does he know?” Ruth sounded utterly fascinated.
Carrie shrugged. “I guess I’m going to find out,” she said as Nate brought the song to a close, his gaze never moving from hers. She took a breath and stepped forward. It was time to resolve this at last.
Ruth clapped her on the back, and took away her half full glass of champagne. “Good luck!”
But as Carrie approached the stage, watching Nate step down toward her, Izzie came dashing in from the side door.
“Jake, Nate, you’ve got to come now,” Izzie said, breathless. “It’s your gran.”
* * * *
Knowing this was his last shot, Nate had sung his bloody heart out on the stage. Sure, it had been embarrassing as all hell, but if Carrie was as stubborn as her grandmother, and all the evidence suggested she was, she wouldn’t have listened listen any other way. At least now, she couldn’t hide from his feelings, even if she didn’t feel the same.
He’d smiled when he’d seen her approach the stage, just as the band had finished up their final notes. Perhaps, against all odds, something might actually go right for once, he’d thought.
Then Izzie had dashed in, and all thoughts of love and romance had gone completely out of his head.
“Where is she?” he gasped as he raced through the lobby, Jacob and Izzie just behind him. He knew a crowd followed them, but he didn’t know or care who was in it.
“Reception,” Izzie replied between heavy breaths.
Reception turned out to be a bit of an overstatement. “What happened?” Nate asked his gran, when he found her propped up on the steps down to the driveway. “Has someone called an ambulance?”
“Oh, honestly, Nate. Don’t make such a fuss. I’m probably fine.” But the gray tinge to Moira’s face and the way she was clutching at his hand too tightly told him she was lying.
Nate glanced up at Stan in the doorway, who nodded and said, “Paramedics are on their way.”
“It’s probably just a sprain.” Moira gasped and winced as she tried to move her ankle. “Stupid, really. Just wasn’t looking where I was going and slipped down the steps. Could have happened to anyone.”
“Yes, but it happened to you,” Nate said, trying to support her upper body more comfortably, without moving her lower body. He wouldn’t have moved her at all if she hadn’t been trying to stand all by herself when he’d arrived.
Carrie was kneeling on the other side of the steps, he realized suddenly, holding Moira’s other hand. Jacob sat on the stairs behind her, one arm around Izzie, his face pale. “Can I get you anything? Some water?”
“Brandy would be good,” Moira muttered, and Carrie glanced up at Jacob, who said, “I’ll bring water.”
“Are you cold?” Carrie went on. “Do you need a blanket?” Nate closed his eyes and thanked the world in general for giving him Carrie Archer.
Before Moira could answer, they all heard the sound of wailing sirens approaching up the long, winding driveway. Flashing lights started blinking through the trees, and before Nate even really knew what was happening, his gran was on a stretcher, being loaded into the ambulance and he was climbing in behind.
Carrie grabbed his arm, and he turned. “Do you want me to follow in the car?” she asked. “You’ll need someone to bring you home.”
Nate shook his head. “You’ve still got a party to throw.” But all around the ambulance, people were getting into their cars.
“I think it might be over,” Carrie said with a small smile.
“Still.” Nate squeezed her hand. “Finish up here. Jacob’s going to drive up behind us. He’ll bring me back.” Except Jacob would have to get home to Georgia soon, probably before Nate would be willing to leave the hospital, and taxis in Coed-y-Capel were notoriously unreliable. But hopefully Carrie wouldn’t know that, so she wouldn’t worry, and he would just sleep in a hospital chair if it meant he was there for his gran if she needed anything. “I’ve got to go.”
Carrie nodded and let go of his hand, and the paramedics closed the door behind him. Nate sat back, as close to Gran as they’d let him, and wondered how he’d thought, even for a moment, things might be about to go his way.
* * * *
Three hours later, as the clock ticked over to two in the morning, Nate shifted on his chair, opened his eyes and saw Carrie sitting beside him.
She gave him a gentle, apologetic smile and said softly, “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come wait with you, instead. Jacob gone home to Georgia?”
“Yeah.” Nate shifted again, the plastic hard and unforgiving under his thighs, and turned to wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“How is she?” Carrie asked, tucking her head against his collar bone.
“Broken ankle,” Nate said. “Doctors said she’s lucky it wasn’t her hip. They’ve plastered her up, and just want to keep her in tonight to make sure she’s okay. Then I get to take her home and act as nursemaid for the next six weeks.” Which wasn’t as unappealing as it might have sounded. Moira played a mean game of Scrabble and tended to stockpile biscuits in the under-stairs cupboard.
“I’m sure the Seniors will give you a hand. And Jacob, of course. We all will. We’ll set up a rota.” For all that she’d said she couldn’t sleep, Carrie sounded like she might pass out on his shoulder. Nate tugged her closer to his body.
“Knowing Gran, she’ll hate it anyway. She can’t stand being looked after.” Nate sighed. “They said they’d lend us a wheelchair, which might help. At least she’ll be able to get out and about.”
“Guess we’ll need to look into better wheelchair access at the inn sooner rather than later,” Carrie agreed, then yawned. “Sorry.”
Nate felt his shoulders twinge. This was ridiculous. “Look, the doctors said she’ll be out until morning. Why don’t we head home and get some sleep. I can come back first thing with my car to pick her up.”
Carrie gave a sleepy nod. “If you’re sure.”
Nate tugged her to her feet and went to give the nurses’ station every possible number he could be reached on, if Gran needed him for anything.
Twenty minutes later, as they pulled in at the Avalon, Nate driving because Carrie couldn’t keep her eyes open, he had a flash of how the night had been supposed to end. With a sigh, he gave Carrie a gentle shake to wake her up and said, “We’re home.”
Carrie blinked up at him through half closed lashes, and Nate wondered if she’d even make it up all the stairs to the attic room. He paused a moment before opening the car door, feeling every bone weary ache that had set up camp in his body. More to the point, could he make it down to the summerhouse? Suddenly, the five-minute walk loomed ahead like a two-day hike.
“Right,” Carrie said, gearing herself for movement. Then, in a sudden burst of energy that Nate found himself envying, she opened the car door, got out and turned back to look at him still inside. “Come on,” she said, with a warm smile. “You’ll never make it all the way to yours. Come and crash with me in the attic. You can help me with the stairs.”
Even though he knew they were both too ti
red to do anything except sleep and he’d probably have to leave for the hospital before she woke up, the prospect of a few hours sleep wrapped around Carrie Archer in her cluttered attic room made the whole day just a little bit better.
Chapter 11
Carrie awoke late the next morning, alone, but surprisingly refreshed. Glancing over at her alarm clock, she saw a small square of notebook paper propped in front it, pulled it closer and read, Gone to get Gran. Thanks. N. X
Not a man of many words, it seemed. But boy, the guy could sing.
Carrie stretched out in the bed, before glancing at the now-uncovered clock face and sitting up fast enough to make her head spin. She had less than two weeks left until the wedding, she was down one gardener, and the bride-to-be, for all that she was her best friend, would decapitate her with her bouquet of imported lavender roses if she didn’t get downstairs and start finalizing the plans for the stag and hen nights.