Heart of Gold

ELEVEN

“WELL, WHAT’S THE verdict, doctor?”

Pulling the ear tips of her plastic stethoscope down to hang around her neck, Lindy stepped back from her mother’s bed. She pursed her lips and planted her chubby hands on her hips. “You’re gonna be okay, but I think you prob’ly need lots of ice cream, and you have to take naps when I say so.”

The love that shown in Faith’s eyes as she smiled at her daughter was absolute and unrestricted. She couldn’t begin to describe how it had felt to see Lindy again after the ordeal she’d been through. The thought had crossed her mind more than once when Strauss had held a gun to her head that she would never see Lindy again, that she would be robbed of the joy of watching her daughter grow up.

On returning home from the hospital the first thing she’d wanted to do was take her baby in her arms and hold her for hours on end, but the sling binding her left arm to her body had prevented her. It would be a week or two before she could give Lindy a proper hug. For the time being she contented herself with running her right hand over her daughter’s soft curls.

“I’d say that’s very sound medical advice, young lady.”

Lindy beamed a smile up at Dr. Moore. The pudgy, bespectacled doctor slipped her a lollipop from the pocket of his tweed jacket and winked at her.

Anastasia’s general practitioner of two decades had insisted on seeing Faith settled in at home. He had advised a longer stay in the hospital, but two days had been more than enough for Faith. She had been driven by the need to go home to Keepsake, to surround herself with familiar things and familiar faces-Lindy’s chief among them. Having survived a nightmare, Faith had felt compelled to return to the house that had been her dream.

Now the good doctor gave her a very paternal look, his bushy gray eyebrows drawing together over twinkling green eyes. “I want you to get plenty of rest. You’re darn lucky that b-u-l-l-e-t didn’t do any major damage,” he said, spelling the word out so as not to upset Lindy. “As it is, you’ll be a few days getting your strength back. Just lie back and let your friends wait on you hand and foot.”

“Sounds good to me,” Faith murmured obediently, though the idea of having people wait on her had never set very well with her. She had always done for herself. As weak as she felt, though, she figured she could stand having Jayne and Alaina turned loose in her kitchen for a few days, despite their decided lack of domestic skills. The two of them together couldn’t boil water.

“I’ll check in on you again tomorrow, honey,” Dr. Moore said, moving toward the door, black bag in hand. “Call me if you need me.”

Faith thanked him, tucking her smile into the corners of her mouth. Dr. Moore had let the women’s movement bypass him entirely. He still doled out casual endearments as easily as he did lollipops. Faith knew he didn’t mean to be condescending or disrespectful in any way. He was just a nice, fatherly old gentleman who treated all his patients as if they were his own children. It was that kind of friendly warmth that had drawn her to Anastasia in the first place.

Jayne and Alaina stuck their heads in the door as soon as the doctor was through it.

“Feeling up to having visitors?” Alaina asked.

“For a little while,” Faith answered, wondering if one of her visitors would be Shane. She hadn’t had a minute alone with him since the ordeal. In fact, she thought, with a little shiver of fear, it almost seemed as though he had been avoiding her.

She remembered none of what had happened on the boat after Strauss had shot her. Her memory held fragments of the emergency room-the bright lights, the metallic sounds and antiseptic scents, the sense of urgency as people rushed around. There was no doubt in her mind that Shane had held her-the sense of safety she recalled was unique to being in his arms. But in the hours since he had kept his distance.

“Honey, if you’re too tired, we can come back later.”

Faith jerked herself out of her musings, looking almost startled to see her friends. Jayne had pulled a chair up beside the bed, and Lindy had immediately scrambled up onto her lap. Alaina, holding herself a little apart as she always did, was leaning against the foot post, a worried frown tugging down her lush mouth.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Faith assured them.

Alaina’s frown only deepened. “I don’t think many people would agree with you, considering what happened.”

“It could have been worse.” Faith forced a bright smile, needing desperately to lighten the mood. The last thing she wanted was to relive the horror of what had happened. As it was, she knew the black memory would haunt her for the rest of her life. “Like they say in the movies-it’s just a flesh wound.”

Jayne rolled her eyes, readily taking Faith’s cue. “How cliché.”

“What’s that mean?” Lindy asked, twisting around on Jayne’s lap.

“It’s what writers in Hollywood get paid for, sweetheart,” Jayne replied with a saccharine sweetness that was lost on Lindy. She hugged the little girl and shot Faith a teasing look. “Look on the bright side. When this is all over, I can write your story into a screenplay, Alaina can negotiate the deal, and we’ll make a million selling it to TV for a miniseries. Mr. Callan can play himself and become a star.”

“Pass,” Faith said, shaking her head against the pillows that had been plumped up behind her. “I think I’ve had about all the notoriety I can stand.”

Jayne pouted prettily, tucking a strand of her wild auburn hair behind her ear. “There goes my big break.”

“I thought you were all through with Tinsel Town,” Alaina remarked dryly.

“I am. It never hurts to have connections, though. What if one of my llamas is destined to become the next Mr. Ed?”

Alaina sniffed. “Sounds like a good argument for owning a library card.” She pushed herself away from the bedpost and reached out to tousle Lindy’s hair. “Speaking of breaks, I think we’d better give Faith one.”

Faith didn’t argue the suggestion. The medication Dr. Moore had given her was kicking in, making her feel numb and fuzzy-headed. She managed a smile for her friends, wondering what she would have done without them. “Thanks again for staying with me, you guys. I really appreciate it.”

Alaina took hold of Faith’s good hand and gave it a squeeze that revealed more of her feelings than she would ever verbalize. “What are friends for if not to trash your house and eat everything in your freezer while you’re laid up?”

On her way out Alaina stopped in her tracks and whirled around. “I almost forgot!” she exclaimed, digging a perfectly manicured hand into the deep pocket of the loose-fitting raw silk jacket she wore. “This came for you in today’s mail. It’s from Bryan. I thought you’d want to open it right away.”

It was uncanny how Bryan’s little gifts always seemed to turn up when his friends were most in need of a spiritual lift. But Faith had learned not to question it. Bryan didn’t seem to think it unusual at all. His only explanation of the phenomenon had been a shrug and a smile.

She examined the small brown package, Christmas-like excitement momentarily overriding the other complex mix of emotions she had been experiencing. The return address on the box was a castle in Ireland. That sounded like a good place for ghost hunting. Faith could only wonder what else Bryan had found there to catch his fancy.

“I can’t open it,” she said, frowning at her bandaged arm. “I don’t have enough hands.”

Alaina dispensed with the small box’s wrapping and opened the square jeweler’s case inside. Faith gave a little gasp. Nestled on a bed of frayed green satin was a man’s ring. Hesitantly she lifted it out. It was obviously very old. The gold had mellowed in color with time and wear. Inside the band was an inscription in what Faith presumed to be Gaelic. But the most remarkable feature of the ring was the crest it bore-two intricately intertwined hearts. They were so worn, parts of them were nearly gone, but there was no mistaking what they were.

They were identical to the pendant that seemed suddenly warm against her skin.

The note inside the box read:

Dear Faith,

I found this in Kilkenny and thought you should have it. I think you’ll want it when you find the end of your rainbow. I envy the man you give this to. He’ll be getting a heart more pure and bright than anything made of gold.

All my love to you and the rest of the Fearsome Foursome,

Bryan

“It’s lovely,” Alaina said softly. “But why would he send you a man’s ring?”

Faith didn’t answer. She merely stared at the ring, then closed it in her hand when a knock sounded at her bedroom door.

“Come in.”

Shane opened the door but came only halfway through it, as if he were uncertain of the reception he would receive. Faith’s gaze met his, and a hundred unspoken questions sang in the air between them.

Alaina glanced from the hard-bitten warrior in the doorway to her friend’s tightly closed fist, and shook her head. “Uncanny,” she muttered, then cleared her throat delicately. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Shane moved into the room but didn’t so much as glance at Alaina as she left. All his attention was focused on the woman who lay in the canopied bed. She looked so fragile, so vulnerable. Her pale skin almost matched the prim cotton nightgown she wore. Shadows lingered beneath her shining dark eyes. Shane’s heart ached at the thought that she was in that bed because of him.

Faith’s heart was pounding as she took in every aspect of Shane’s appearance, from the tips of his black shoes to his elegantly cut dark trousers, the dress shirt that spanned his broad shoulders and tapered to his trim waist. His handsome, aristocratic face wore a carefully closed expression, but it didn’t quite mask the emotions in his eyes.

What she read in those silvery depths frightened her. Regret. Pain. A tortured anguish that seemed to reach out and clutch at her heart.

She had gotten her wish. Shane had come to see her, but she knew with an ominous sense of foreboding that she didn’t want to hear what he had come to say. Digging down deep, she found she had a little scrap of strength left. She wrapped herself around it and prayed it would get her through whatever was to come.

“Hi, stranger,” she said, a soft smile curving the delicate bow of her mouth. She gripped that bit of courage a little harder when Shane didn’t return her smile with one of his own. Lord, she’d have given anything to see his mouth quirk up on one side in that devastatingly sexy way of his, to have him reach out and caress her cheek with his elegant musician’s hand. But he merely stood, a half step back from the side of her bed, out of reach both physically and emotionally.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little woozy.” But not woozy enough to dull the pain that came from looking into his eyes.

“I won’t stay long. You need to rest,” he murmured, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. Every inch of him ached to hold her, to feel her soft warmth against him one last time, but he wouldn’t allow himself the pleasure. If he touched her now, he’d never be able to let her go-and that was exactly what he had to do. “Banks spoke with the prosecuting attorney in Washington. He said he could push back the date of your testimony. He can get a continuance-”

“No,” Faith interrupted. “I’ll be fine by then. I don’t want him to delay anything. The sooner it’s over, the better.”

The sooner I’m out of your life, Shane added silently. It was astounding how much that thought hurt. All these years he’d gone along on his own, touching no one, needing no one. In a few short weeks this one small woman had so captured him, it would be like tearing his heart out to leave her. And it would be doubly painful because until Faith, he had stopped believing he had a heart to lose.

“I’m leaving for Washington in the morning,” he said abruptly, his voice gruffer and more clipped than usual. “Agent Timmons will stay on and escort you back for the trial.”

He set his jaw at a stubborn angle and resolutely refused to look at Faith. But then, he didn’t need to see her face to know her reaction. He could feel the shock and hurt roll off her in waves that battered his wall of self-control.

“Why?” she asked in a stunned whisper, managing to put all her painful questions into that one word.

He wasn’t strong enough to look her in the face and answer. She sounded so hurt, and Lord knew the last thing he wanted was to hurt her more than he already had. He’d known all along she wasn’t for him, but he hadn’t been strong enough to resist her. His weakness had nearly gotten her killed.

Struggling with the guilt, he prowled around her room and further punished himself by memorizing every detail of it. The wallpaper was a delicate floral print. She had snapshots of Lindy tucked into the frame of the beveled glass mirror above her cherry dresser. There was also a photograph of Faith and her friends in their graduation caps and gowns with Notre Dame’s gold dome behind them and a rainbow arching over their heads. The dresser top held a porcelain pitcher and bowl filled with dried flowers.

Everything about the room was delicate and feminine and old-fashioned. The air was sweet with that soft lavender scent he would forever associate with Faith.

Forcing his mind back to the issue, he said, “You knew from the start I couldn’t stay. I was nothing less than honest with you, Faith.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Shane had warned her on more than one occasion that he couldn’t make promises, that their relationship would span only the time it took to solve the case. She had known that going in, but it still hurt to hear him reconfirm it. Lord, it hurt. The pain was so sharp, it cut through the haze of medication and eclipsed the throbbing ache in her shoulder.

Stupid, romantic fool, she berated herself. How many times did she have to learn the same lesson before it would sink in? Shane had come right out and told her she would never possess more of him than his body. Still, she had plunged in headfirst, brimming with Pollyanna optimism, sure that she would be able to change his mind, that she would be the one person able to get behind his defenses and touch the vulnerable, lonely man who lived behind those gray walls of isolation.

Stopping at the foot of the bed, Shane’s left hand gripped the carved cherry wood post as if he needed something to steady himself against. “I came to apologize,” he said.

For breaking my heart? Faith wondered bleakly. Don’t bother. I should be used to it by now.

But when she met his gaze, it was his pain she felt, not her own. It hit her like a blast of cold wind, stunning her, confusing her.

“You could have been killed because of me,” he said, his voice thickening with the emotion he had worked so hard to suppress. His hand tightened on the bedpost until his knuckles turned white. “You’ll never know how sorry I am that happened.”

She would never know the regret he felt not only for her injuries but over what he had lost as well. The dream of a future with her had been within his grasp until reality had intruded in the form of Adam Strauss. Now Strauss was dead, but the reality was just as alive, just as harsh. He had chosen a lifestyle that didn’t allow for dreams.

“Is that why you’re leaving?” Faith whispered, her heart immediately taking hope. “Shane, I don’t blame you for what happened.”

It was clear, though, that he blamed himself. The guilt that etched lines into his handsome face was almost unbearable to see.

“Shane, I love you.”

He shook his head, not to deny her statement, but to keep her from elaborating on it. “Faith, don’t. It can’t work between us. I knew that from the start, and dammit to hell, I should have had sense enough to stay away from you.”

“You said you loved me.”

“That was a mistake.”

Well, he wasn’t mincing words, was he? Faith had no idea how she kept from crying out at the pain. It was as sharp as a knife in her chest. Getting shot didn’t even compare. She didn’t try to keep the tears from rising in her eyes. They flooded her field of vision and brimmed over the barrier of her thick dark lashes. Her throat tightened on a knot of them. That she managed to comment at all was a minor miracle. “I see.”

Shane damned himself to yet another eternity in hell as he took in the stricken look on Faith’s delicate heart-shaped face. For a man with a degree in literature he had a way with words that no doubt had the great poets rolling in their graves right about now.

Pushing himself away from the foot post, he moved to the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed. Sitting down, he leaned his forearms on his thighs and heaved a sigh. “No, you don’t see. I shouldn’t have let myself fall in love with you, Faith. It’s just not allowed.”

She wasn’t about to pretend she was sophisticated enough to understand the rules that governed men like Shane Callan. She wasn’t. She didn’t want to be sophisticated enough to understand a world that left no room for love. “You’re not allowed to be human?”

Since he knew he was all too human, Shane chose not to answer her question. “The job I do is important, Faith. It’s also very demanding and dangerous. I chose this way of life knowing the limitations, knowing the rules. I broke those rules, and now you’re the one paying the penalty.”

“But I told you, I don’t blame you for what happened.”

No, it wasn’t in Faith to lay blame, but that was beside the point as far as he was concerned. “Don’t you see, honey? Our worlds don’t exist on the same plane. What happened with Strauss only proved that.”

Finally giving in to the need to touch her, he reached out and gently closed his hand over the fist she clenched so tightly in her lap. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry you were hurt because of me. I should never have let it happen.”

“You’re talking as if I never had any say in the matter,” Faith said with a harsh laugh. The man was a rampaging chauvinist, going on about how he should have made this decision or that decision about what she did, as if she wasn’t capable of making a rational choice herself. “I’m a grown woman, Shane Callan. I make my own decisions.”

Raking a hand back through his black hair, Shane looked away from her. “Let it go, Faith. It just won’t work. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“But-”

“No, Faith.”

The look in his pewter gray eyes stilled the debate on her tongue. He wasn’t going to listen to her. The awful truth tolled inside her head like a death knell. Faith squeezed her own eyes shut against the pain, not opening them even when Shane’s fingers curved beneath her chin and his mouth brushed across hers. She didn’t watch him leave but listened to his footsteps as he rounded the foot of her bed and crossed the hardwood floor. When the door clicked shut behind him, she squeezed her hand tighter around the ring that burned like ice in her fist, and she cried.

She loved Shane Callan with her life, and he was leaving her.