She was turning over when she heard a soft knocking.
"Hello?" she called out. The door opened, revealing a big, dark shape. "Alex?"
She sat up as her brother limped into the room. He was leaning heavily on his crutches, his shoulders cocked out of place from bearing his weight. He had on a Red Wings T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.
"Sorry if I woke you," he said.
"I wasn't sleeping. And even if I was, you can come in whenever-"
"I wanted to thank you for the gift. When I saw the book on the bureau, I figured it had to be from you."
"You were asleep when I popped my head in. I didn't know if you still liked Harry Potter or whether you'd read that one."
"I do. And I didn't have it. So thanks."
"You're welcome."
He shuffled over to her worktable, staring down at the spools of thread and the pincushions. He reached out and picked up her pinking shears. "Tell me about the city."
"It was wonderful."
"Yeah? I was hoping you'd enjoy yourself. It's about time."
"And I have more clients now."
"Good for you." He put down the scissors, swaying a little on the crutches.
"Would you like to sit?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I'm trying to force myself to get up and around. Although this week is going to set me back again."
"What are they going to do to you?" she whispered, her hand coming up to her throat.
"The titanium rod they put in to replace the bone isn't taking. They're going to try again. If it doesn't work, I may be looking at amputation."
Joy hissed. "Alex-"
"I haven't told Frankie about that last part. Would appreciate if you didn't mention it to her."
She nodded. "Okay."
"And I shouldn't have told you. I guess I just wanted someone else to know. So not everyone would be knocked out if I come through this missing my lower leg."
He moved slowly over to the window and stared out into the dense night.
"Alex, is there anything I can do?"
He was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was so soft, she could barely make out the words.
"Tell me how she is."
Joy leaned forward on the bed, as if she could better understand what he wanted if she were closer to him. "I'm sorry-who?"
There was a long pause. "Cassandra."
Her brother's back was rigid, his bunched shoulders set tight as the cast on his leg. The still silence of him told her how important any information about the widow was.
"She's … ah, she's … I don't really know." Joy shifted her legs up and put her arms around her knees. "I didn't know her before and I don't know her all that well now. She doesn't sleep, I can tell you that. I'd hear her walking around the apartment at night. And I think she has to work at being social. Sometimes when we were out, I'd find her staring off into the crowd as if her body was in the room but she was somewhere else. And I caught her crying once. I got home early and she was out on the terrace, watching a cloud bank come in over the city. When she came back in, her eyes were red and she went into the library."
"Is that portrait of Reese still in there?"
"Yes."
Alex shook his head. "I used to razz him about that painting, but he said Cassandra needed something to remind her of him when he was gone."
There was a tight silence.
"She asked about you," Joy murmured.
Alex's head dropped down, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. "What did you say?"
"Nothing. I figured you wouldn't want me telling her anything."
"Thank you. Thank you for that." He looked over his shoulder. "You've always understood me, haven't you?"
Joy shrugged. "Not always. But I respect your need for privacy."
He hobbled over and sat on the bed. Even though he'd lost weight, the springs groaned as they accepted him. He stretched his left leg out and winced.
"Is she seeing anyone?" he asked roughly.
"No."
He closed his eyes as if in relief, but then his expression hardened.
"It's still early. She'll find someone. A woman like her in New York can have her pick of men."
"She told me she wasn't interested in dating."
"That will change."
Joy studied her brother's face. The bitterness seemed out of place, she thought. Unless Alex was thinking of his friend.
"She seems to really miss her husband," Joy said. "And I don't think she's the kind of woman who's going to fill the void with a casual affair."
She'd hoped to relieve his mind. Instead, Alex's profile only grew tighter.
Something like an instinct or a premonition made her stop talking. What if Alex had feelings for … Good Lord.
"Why won't you see her?" Joy asked gently.
"I can't."
"Why?"
He shook his head sharply. "It's not right."
With a quick movement, Alex lifted one of his crutches into the air and stood it upright on the center of his palm, balancing the length on its rubber foot. The ease with which he pulled off the feat was typical of him. The marvelous hand-to-eye coordination, the control of his limbs. He'd always been good at anything physical, a consummate athlete.
She thought about what the loss of his lower leg would do to him. Heck, even if he could keep it, he might well be finished in the professional sailing game. The doctors had told him the limb would never be as strong as it had been.
She tried to imagine the black hole he was facing if he didn't go back to racing. Everything he had lived for would be lost: his profession; his colleagues; the outlet for his competitive spirit. And worst of all, his wanderlust, once slacked by the sea, would be earthbound.
Joy stroked his shoulder. "I love you, Alex. And no matter what happens, I'll always be there for you."
The crutch pitched off his hand, falling into thin air. He caught it before it landed on the ground.
"I love you, too," he said without looking at her.
Chapter Twelve
JOY SPENT THE WEEK sketching, watching Grand-Em and, rather pathetically, waiting for Gray to call. The saving grace of the latter was at least he always did. Once in the morning. Once at night. Every single day, without fail.
He always asked about what she was doing. How the dresses were going. How her family was. His voice sounded good in her ear, and when he'd laugh softly or say her name, she was reminded of what it was like to be close enough to his body to feel him breathe.
She was never certain where he was, though, because mostly he called on his cell phone. A lot of the time she could hear people talking in the background. Or the drawling echoes of airport terminal announcements. Or the rush of wind, as if he were walking outside. She told herself it was enough that he called at all, but knew that wasn't true. Their time on the phone brought into focus what she wanted from him, and unfortunately, she suspected it was way too much.
He hadn't brought up the subject of coming to see her again.
The limbo was killing her and she knew they had to talk. It was harder to almost be with him, to almost be in a relationship, than not to see him at all. When she went back to New York after the wedding, she was going to make him sit down and they were going to have it out, face-to-face.
It wasn't a conversation she was looking forward to. After all, what had Frankie always said about men? If you have to ask the question, you aren't going to like the answer.
When Friday night rolled around, the week seemed to have passed at a crawl. Fortunately, Alex's surgery had gone as well as could be expected, but everyone at White Caps was tense. With all Alex had been through as well as the upcoming nuptials, distraction was the name of the game. Nate had burned himself reaching into the oven to take out a roast. Spike had taken a hunk out of his finger. Frankie had burst into tears when she'd gotten a card in the mail from an old friend.
And Joy? She was just a zombie.
They all needed a break and as the sun set, she was determined to get Nate and Frankie out of the house. They deserved it. And she was looking for a little time by herself.
"I don't know about this," Frankie said, pulling on her coat with Nate's help.
Joy walked over and opened the kitchen door, letting the heat rush out and the cold come in. She knew the shocking loss of BTUs would get her sister in gear more than anything else would.
"You two need to go on a date," Joy said. "When was the last time you were alone together while you were both awake?"
"August." Frankie eyed the open door, as if watching dollar bills walk out into the great outdoors. "Uh, could you shut the-"
"Go. Now."
"If Alex calls from the hospital-"
"He won't. He's fine. You talked to him an hour ago."
"But Spike's still at that motorcycle rally-"
"Frankie, I'm not twelve. I can handle being home by myself."
When the two finally left, Joy let her breath out and leaned back against the door. With Grand-Em asleep upstairs, the house was silent and she was so grateful.
Maybe that was part of her attraction to New York. There, she'd had the opportunity to be quiet, get lost in her sketching, let her mind wander.
Heading for the front of the house, she walked out of the kitchen through a pair of flap doors and surveyed the dining area. One side of the thirty-five-by-forty room was a jungle of tables and chairs, the other was barren. As they had just closed for the season, the rug was halfway shampooed, smelling of fake lemon. In a couple of days, after the low-nap pile was dry, they'd shuffle everything across the floor and finish the job.