Holding the Dream (Dream Trilogy 2) - Page 51

Dr. Hudd hesitated a moment, measuring him. Then nodded. "I'm sure you will." She reached for the curtain, glanced back. "Is your father Dr. Brian De Witt?"

"Thoracic surgery."

"And you're—"

"In hotels." He smiled charmingly. "But my sisters are doctors. All three of them."

"There's one in every family."

"I'm sorry," Kate murmured. She kept her head back, resting it against the car's seat. Kept her eyes closed.

"Just follow doctor's orders. Take your medicine, get your rest. Cut back on the jalapenos."

She knew he said it to make her smile, and tried to oblige him. "And I was just craving some. I didn't want to ask until I was sure we'd managed the great escape, but how did you talk her out of admitting me?"

"Reason, charm, compromise. And by invoking my mother's name. She's a big deal."

"Oh."

"And a promise," he added, "that if it happens again, you go in for X-rays—as an outpatient." He laid a hand over hers, squeezed. "This isn't something you can ignore, Kate. You have to take care of this, and yourself."

She fell silent again. It was all too embarrassing. And there were still little hot licks of panic flickering in her stomach.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw the moon-kissed sweep of Big Sur, the rise of cliffs, the flash of forests, the wild curve of the road with thin mists of fog hovering. Tears stung her eyes. She'd asked him to take her home, and he'd understood. Home was Templeton House.

The lights were glowing against the windows. Glowing in a warmth and welcome that was as dependable as sunrise. She could smell the flowers, hear the sea. Even before he had fully stopped the car at the top of the drive, the door swung open. Laura raced out.

"Oh, honey, are you all right?" Her robe swirling around her legs, Laura wrenched open the car door and all but absorbed Kate into her arms. "I've been so worried!"

"It's all right. It's so silly. I—" Then she spotted Ann hurrying out and nearly broke.

"There, darling girl." Crooning, Ann tucked an arm around Kate's waist. "Let's get you inside now."

"I—" But it was too easy to just let her head rest on Ann's shoulder. Here were memories of warm cookies and sweet tea. Of soft sheets and cool hands.

"Byron." Laura cast a distracted look back at him. "I'm so grateful you called. I—" She looked toward Kate, already halfway to the house with Ann. "Please come in. Let me get you some coffee."

"No, I'll head on home." It was obvious that Laura was oblivious to everyone but Kate. "I'll come by later and see how she is. Go ahead."

"Thank you. Thank you so much." She dashed away.

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He watched her catch up and flank Kate on the other side. The three of them slipped into the house as one.

She slept for twelve hours and awakened rested and dazed. She was in the room of her middle childhood. The wallpaper was the same, the subtle pastel stripes. The blinds of her late adolescence had been replaced by lace curtains that swayed at the open windows. They had been Kate's grandmother's. Had hung in her own mother's bedroom. Aunt Susie had thought they would bring her comfort when she had first settled in Templeton House, and she'd been right.

They brought her comfort now.

There had been many a morning Kate had lain in the big, soft four-poster and watched those curtains flutter. And felt her parents close.

If she could just talk to them now, she thought. Just try to understand why her father had done what he had done. But what comfort would there be in that? What excuse could possibly justify it?

She had to concentrate on the now. Had to find a way to live in the now. And yet how could she not drift back?

It was the house, most of all, she supposed. It held so many memories. There was history here, eras, people, ghosts. Like the cliffs, the forests, those wildly shaped cypress trees, it held magic.

She turned her face into the pillow, encased in Irish linen. Ann always saw to it that the bed linen was scented lightly with lemon. There were flowers on the night table, a Waterford vase filled with sweet-smelling freesia. A note was propped against it. Recognizing Laura's handwriting, she stirred herself to reach out.

Tags: Nora Roberts Dream Trilogy Romance
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