Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(69)

Maybe.

The reality of time escaped her; he could have been away two hours or fifteen minutes. When he returned, she stared up at him, hardly knowing what to say. She felt dreadful that she'd taken him from the office.

"Were you just here or was that a long time ago?" she asked him.

"About five minutes."

"Oh. It must be the pain."

"Probably. But the Tylenol should kick in soon."

"Can I get out of here? Someone needs to feed the cats, and then there's Sammy. Harvey depends on me to feed him. Sammy's fifty percent Harvey's dog but he--I mean Harvey--refuses to admit it. So Sammy comes to visit and stays for dinner every night." She paused. "He usually eats on the porch. Because of the cats."

"I'm taking you home."

Macy felt tears in her eyes, so grateful that she was close to dissolving with emotion. "I'm s-sorry to trouble you."

"It's no trouble."

"Wh-what about your date?"

"I phoned Leanne. We put it off until tomorrow."

"Oh...sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Okay. Except that I feel responsible and you made such a point of arranging this date with her.... I know it's important to you."

Michael pressed his finger to her lips. "Stop."

"I didn't mean to give them your name," she mumbled against his finger. "I must've been talking to myself again."

He sent her an odd look. "Don't explain that."

The ride to her house was miserable and seemed to take forever. While he drove, Michael gave her a detailed medical report. Most of what he said went over her head. Basically, nothing was broken. She had several deep cuts. That much Macy knew, although she barely remembered being stitched up. The primary concern was the possibility of concussion, he explained. She needed someone to stay the night with her.

"I'll call a friend," she told Michael. Joy Williamson could probably come over. Or maybe Sherry Franklin...

"No, I can do it," he said.

"You?"

"I know what to look for. I'll be waking you every few hours and checking your eyes. To see if your pupils are dilated."

Once they got to the house, Michael helped her out of the car. Wearing an unusually worried expression, Harvey stood on her porch and held open the front door. Sammy immediately started to whine. Her cats didn't seem to care what the problem was; they didn't take kindly to having their dinner delayed. But that was cats for you.

"I'll get you into bed and then feed them," Michael promised.

Macy tried to assure the cats that food was forthcoming, but Snowball, Lovie and Peace weren't interested in excuses. When her cats were cranky, they let everyone in the vicinity know.

Michael discreetly helped her change into a nightgown--really an oversize T-shirt with pictures of kittens all over it. Once she was settled in bed, her head nestled in the pillows, Macy was almost comfortable. She could hear Michael and Harvey talking in the living room, but their voices were too low to distinguish the words.

"Talk louder," she called out and winced at the sound of her own voice. If she was the main topic of conversation, she figured she had a right to hear what was being said.

The two men were silent then or they'd moved out of earshot--it was difficult to tell from her bedroom. The oddest things were going through her mind and she must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes Michael was standing over her. The curtains had been drawn, and he'd turned on the bedside lamp.

She blinked, blinded by the light, and blurted out, "Mom was right. I should've worn new underwear."

"Why?"

"Because I was in an accident. My mother told me that putting on nice underwear's important in case I'm in an accident."

Michael seemed to find that amusing, although she didn't understand why.

Another time he helped her up and into the bathroom, then stood outside the door, giving her privacy. He was so gentle with her.

"Where are you sleeping?" she asked as he supported her with an arm about her waist. They slowly made their way back into the bedroom.

"On the sofa."

"Oh, dear. That's Lovie's bed."

"So I discovered."

Macy felt the need to explain.

"I tried to convince her to sleep elsewhere when I got the new sofa," Macy said. "But she made it clear that she'd slept on the old one and she was sleeping on this one, too, and she didn't care how much I paid for it."

Another smile.

Macy tilted her head to the side. "You're quite handsome when you smile. Did I tell you that before?" Reaching out she touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers. His face was bristly because he needed a shave. "You should smile more often."

"I'll take it under advisement."

The final time he woke her it was around four in the morning. His clothes were badly wrinkled and he looked as if he hadn't slept all night.

When Macy woke on her own, it was six. She sat up carefully and waited for the pain to assault her. The throbbing in her head was nearly gone. Although every muscle in her body cried out in protest, she moved her legs, first one and then the other, over the side of the bed. She sat there for several minutes until she'd regained her bearings.