But it wasn’t Kaitlyn. When she answered the door, she found Liam, and he was carrying a bouquet of mixed flowers.
“This is a surprise!” Then she remembered her manners. “Come on in.”
He handed her the flowers. “You did a great job with the interview. The flowers are for your guts in doing it.”
“Jase’s writing kept it from being maudlin or overly dramatic or too sensational. I just told what happened.”
“You made it real...the way you felt when you realized the house was on fire, escaping with Amy, moving in here and having to accept help. That photo of you and Amy was great. It was really touching, Sara. I mean it.”
Liam didn’t look quite like himself and Sara wasn’t sure why.
“I’m going to put these in water.” The daisies, mums and tulips really were lovely. She took a tall glass from the cupboard, filled it with water, then quickly arranged the flowers and set it on the counter.
“I had another reason for stopping by,” he said almost sheepishly. “Are you busy right now? I mean, can you take a few moments from Amy?”
Unsure of what Liam had in mind, Sara arched her brow. “To do what?”
“I was rock climbing yesterday,” he said with a resigned sigh.
She studied him again more closely. His one shoulder looked to be lower than the other as if there were tension in it, as if he was in pain. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know what I did. That’s just it. People tell me I’m getting too old for rock climbing and I really don’t want to listen. So don’t give me that lecture.” There was something about Liam that she liked...not in a man-woman way, but in a bantering-friend kind of way. “I don’t give lectures.”
“That’s good because I don’t need one. I want you to look at my shoulder.”
“Liam, I’m not a doctor.”
“That’s the whole point. I want to know if I have to see a doctor. I really don’t want to go through the whole emergency room routine—hours waiting, X-rays. I thought if you could just look at it, tell me what you think I did—”
She wasn’t a doctor, but she did treat patients every day. However, no matter what she found, she’d tell him he needed to see a physician. The question was—could it wait or did he need to see one right now?
“Amy is coloring and plastering stickers all over the page. That will take her a while. So I have a few minutes.”
“Do you need me to take my shirt off?”
“If you want me to look at your shoulder, I do.”
Liam was wearing a snap-button shirt, probably easier to get into than an over-the-head T. Remembering what he’d told her, she asked, “So if you go rock climbing once a month, how do you keep in shape for it?”
“I work out three times a week to keep my muscles strengthened.”
“Even so, they lose their elasticity over time. It’s tough getting older, but it happens to all of us.”
“Yeah, like you have to worry about it anytime soon.” He shook his head. “Women worry about wrinkles. Men worry about not being able to do push-ups.”
She laughed until she studied the way he was holding his arm after he took his shirt off. “What exactly did you do?”
“I wrenched it when I fell.”
“I hope not far.”
“About six feet. I rolled but I landed on it.”
She could easily see that Liam did keep himself in shape. She studied him as she would any patient. “Does your neck hurt?”
“No. Just my shoulder.”
“Turn around and let me try to figure out what you’ve injured.”
* * *
When Jase’s dinner appointment was canceled, he found himself smiling. He could spend the evening with Sara...and Amy. After Amy went to bed, they could talk more about what happened in the garage...what would happen if she became pregnant...what would happen if they became a couple. Last night he’d actually started envisioning the three of them living here in the main house. After Friday, she’d have answers and she could start planning her life all over again.
Jase liked the feeling of adrenaline that rushed through him when he walked toward Sara’s cottage. He enjoyed the anticipation that heated his blood. He tried to forget about everything his father had said and everything he didn’t want to think about.
But the scene with his dad last night played in his head like an unwanted movie. “Why are you running off to Africa again?” his father had asked.
“I’m not running off. I’m doing what I do best.”
“Yes, you won a prize. Yes, you’re an accomplished photographer and journalist. But Raintree is your home. You keep running away from it as if I’ve done something horrible to you. Or is the vineyard somewhere you just stop over at when you don’t know where else to go?”