She should eat but she was too tired. She should nap, except every time she closed her eyes she was back in Waterview, hiding when Marion called, "Where are you? I need you!"
Wearily she sat at the round Formica table and tried to think of a way around this latest dilemma. The fact that Marion would choose her over Sally only exacerbated her guilt.
You let go. You let go. You let go.
Why hadn't she held on? Over and over, Kezia replayed the accident with its new ending. Herself, holding on.
She ached to confess the whole thing to Marion and be vilified, as she deserved. But Marion had enough to bear right now without Kezia's remorse.
The habit of routine saved her from the circular madness of what-ifs. John Jason was napping. It was time for Roland the Rat to write his daily letter. Getting up, she went into the bedroom and opened her suitcase, found a pen and the colored paper hidden among her clothes. Back at the table she started to write.
Dear John Jason, please don't hate me. Kezia took a deep breath, screwed up the paper and reached for a fresh sheet. Dear John Jason, today Bernice May gave me a very nice piece of cheese for my breakfast. I know you're still cross with Auntie Kezia for keeping me away from your mummy when she fell, but-
Bang, bang, bang. Marion was at the door, desperate for shelter. Kezia tried to get up and answer it, but she couldn't. She sat imprisoned in the chair, caught in a spider's web.
Bang, bang, bang. Frantically, Kezia struggled to free herself, opened her mouth to scream. This time she had to answer. Had to. Sticky fly-filled web choked her off. The spider was near-poised, ready to spring and devour-she could sense it.
She woke with a strangled cry as John Jason clambered onto her lap, his dislike forgotten with the advent of a new terror. "Someone's at the door."
She heard the knock again, even more urgent. Heart hammering, Kezia got up and staggered to the door, John Jason clinging like a sleep-dazed limpet. "I'm coming, I'm coming."
At the door she tried to put him down to free up her good hand, but he hung on tighter. "What if it's the bogeyman?" His confidence had been another casualty of the accident.
"It's not the bogeyman." Kezia tried to sound calm. She struggled with the doorknob, telling herself not to panic. Like John Jason, she was now conditioned to expect disaster. The door swung open. The bogeyman stood there, gorgeous and unobtainable.
"What do you want?" she choked out past the lump in her throat.
Christian took a deep breath. "I'm here to be your better man."
She slammed the door in his face.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NO ONE SAID this would be easy, Kelly. You can only put yourself in the firing line and take the bullets. Squaring his shoulders, Christian knocked again.
There was a sharp murmur of voices, a fumble at the door then it swung open a second time. Beaming, John Jason flung his arms around Christian's knees and held on tight. "I told her we need a daddy to keep away the bogeyman." Anxiety settled on the small upturned face. "You will, won't you?" Behind him, Kezia cradled a bright pink arm cast, holding it across her body like a shield.
Christian picked up the child and hugged him. "But John Jason, you're the scariest dude I know," he said. It was true. This kid toppled his defenses as if they were a toy fort. "And what about Batman?"
"I left my cape at home. She bought me a new one. I don't like it." The child turned his head to scowl at Kezia. Hurt flared in her eyes, quickly doused. There were undercurrents here Christian didn't understand, and she looked so damn sad and fragile he could hardly stand it.
"Can I come in? Please?"
She lifted her chin. "I expect you've come about the hotel money I've been spending on hospital bills. Settlement on my land is next week, then I'll pay you back." He didn't answer, just looked at her steadily until she blushed and stepped back. "Okay, a few minutes."
John Jason turned an ebullient face to his. "You can even have some of my Coke."
"Thanks, buddy, you keep it. I'll take a coffee, though." That should buy him more time.
Carrying the kid, he followed Kezia into the dim interior, noting its shabbiness, the forlorn cleanliness. Dishes were soaking in the sink. He guessed her cast would make washing up laborious. Other than a few childish paintings stuck to the fridge with magnets, the place was impersonal and tidy. Its inhabitants obviously spent little time here.
Still holding John Jason, he took one of the two orange bucket chairs at the Formica table. Immediately, the child slid off his lap and went to the tiny fridge. Glancing defiantly at Kezia, he took out a can of Coke. Without a word she pulled the tab and filled a glass. John Jason snatched it back.
"Say thank-you," Christian reminded him but the boy's mouth set in a stubborn line. Christian frowned. "John Jason?"
"Please!"
"That's fine." Kezia turned back to the tiny kitchenette and switched the jug on. "Hey, why don't you show Christian the car I bought you, the one like his … what's it called again?"
God, I love this woman. Christian exchanged a male look with John Jason before the kid scampered off to get his toy. He saw her struggle to unscrew the lid on the coffee jar. "I'll make that."
"I can manage."
Ignoring her, he came up behind her, close enough to touch, to torture himself with what might have been. "You don't have to."
"I want to."
A toy Ferrari tore across the lurid carpet, driven by a heavy hand and some fearsome broom-brooms. Reluctantly, Christian sat. John Jason careered around the Formula One lounge circuit while Christian applauded his driving skill, equally aware of Kezia's one-handed independence in the kitchen.
He was in love with a woman who would rather die than accept assistance. To help her, he'd have to submerge his feelings and be tougher than she was pretending to be. John Jason extended his circuit into the bedroom and Christian took advantage of his absence. "What's the latest on Marion?"
"She might make a full recovery, she might be left with permanent paralysis. We should know soon."
"I want to pay for the best specialists."
"You already are." She shrugged, awkward and defiant. That was one battle he didn't have to fight.
He tried to keep the next question neutral, didn't quite manage it. "Why didn't you call me?"
"Why would I?" Face averted, she busied herself pouring milk into his coffee, adding one sugar with an unconscious familiarity that made her coldness more painful.
"It's not just you I care about!"
She stopped stirring, stared into the cup. "Then you must feel like I do-guilty as sin."
"What the hell has this got to do with you?"
"If I'd taken the hotel when you offered it, this never would have happened. If I'd been thinking instead of playing mind games with you, I would have got the carpenter back to repair the stairs. Now my best friend might be a cripple!" Her laugh was bitter. "And you wonder why I didn't call you."
Still grappling with this new revelation-of course, it made sense that she would shoulder some of the blame-Christian tried to keep his emotions out of it. "I'm told the banister wasn't the cause of the accident-"
"How like you to minimize your share of the responsibility."
"-but contributed to Marion's fall," he finished, accepting her need for a punching bag. Kezia's self-worth relied on her success as a safety net for the people she loved, and Marion's accident represented a devastating failure. "I stopped the repairs, not you, so keep your thieving conscience out of my liability." That startled her into looking at him. He held her gaze. "You're not going to carry the can on this one, Kez. I won't let you."
For a fleeting moment he saw the weight lift from her shoulders. "You don't understand."
"So make me."
"She came hunting for me, and I wouldn't answer. I knew she needed me and I hid." Her voice caught. "I hid, Christian. She had the accident because I wanted to wallow in self-pity over losing you." He started to rise; she waved him down. "I forgot duty, loyalty, compassion-pretty much every value I hold dear. Having you around made me selfish."
"And now you're atoning for being human by donning sackcloth and ashes and playing the martyr," he said, understanding suddenly how her penance would work. In two strides he closed the gap, grasped her shoulders. "Don't you get it? You're not punishing yourself for ignoring a friend, you're punishing yourself for being human and wanting a life."