The Perfect Gift

He inclined his head in understanding. “Maybe you can rent a car or drive your grandmother’s.”

Goldie laughed. “Her car is ancient but it does move, barely. Grammy says it has one speed—slow.”

His smile was back. “I see you have her sense of humor.”

“Keeps me sane.”

He seemed amused then said, “Well, I guess I’d better get back to the house. I left my sons with my mother—again. That poor woman never gets a break.” His smile was indulgent. “We made two snowmen—one in our yard and one in hers.”

She looked out the window. “Did it snow last night?”

“Yeah, a pretty good dusting. The ground is covered white and we were able to get two passable snowmen.”

“Are the roads okay, then?”

“The roads are fine now. I had to be careful driving into town, but the sun melted most of the ice. However, we could have another round tomorrow.” He turned toward the door then whirled. “Hey, do you need a ride home?”

Goldie didn’t know how to respond. This man seemed to know what she needed even before she voiced it. That was very disconcerting to a woman who was used to being independent and confident and…alone. “I hadn’t thought about that. I sure don’t want Grammy trying to find someone to drive me, even if the roads are clear.”

“I can take you right now.”

He really was a sweet man. “I haven’t been released yet. The doctor said later today.”

“I’ll come back and take you home, then,” he confirmed, holding up a hand when she tried to protest. “I just have to help the boys do some things around our place. We have a small herd of cows and they need checking on and we all have chores to do, but they can stay with my mom while I take you to your grandmother’s house.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“I insist. Your grandmother’s worried about you and I don’t mind. I’ll call her.”

“I can call Grammy,” Goldie asserted. “I’ll tell her you’re bringing me home. They said midafternoon, after I see the doctor one more time and he signs my release.”

“So, I’ll be back around three.”

Goldie had to ask. “You said your mother watches the boys a lot? Does your wife work?” And where had his wife been last night?

“I don’t have a wife,” he corrected, the light going out of his eyes. “She…died a few years ago.”

Wishing she’d learn to keep her curiosity to herself, Goldie looked down at her hands. That probably explained his aversion to hospitals. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t comment. He just nodded his head again in a silent acknowledgment. “I’ll see you at three.”

“Okay. Thanks again, Rory. For everything.”

He waved goodbye then shut the door.

“Nice going, Goldie,” she whispered to herself. If her head hadn’t been so sore, she would have hit her forehead in disgust. Why was she accident-prone with herself and her mouth?

Instead, Goldie closed her eyes and remembered the homeyness of Rory’s rambling farmhouse, the cute grins of his two little boys—wait, the cute grin of the youngest of his two boys, at least—and the way Rory’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. And she imagined the kind of woman who’d once been a part of that lovely picture. The kind of woman who baked cookies, kept the house neat and played kick ball with the boys in the backyard. A loving, caring, motherly type woman.

And she reminded herself she was not that kind of woman even if she did have a compulsion toward being organized. Besides, she’d come here to help her grandmother, not get involved with yet another male even if this one seemed to actually understand the meaning of the words trust and commitment. In spite of her accident and her fuzzy memories, she somehow knew she had a very good reason for not wanting a man in her life—no matter how kind Rory Branagan had been to her and how much her heart was telling her that this man just might be different from all the rest.

Chapter Three

Her locket was missing.

Frantic, Goldie searched all around her bed and the bedside table, then buzzed for a nurse. She glanced at the clock. It was almost time for Rory to come and take her home, but she couldn’t leave without her locket. When the bubbly RN rushed into her room, Goldie was just about out of the bed.

“Don’t try to get up by yourself,” the nurse objected, holding Goldie’s arm. “Do you need a bathroom break?”

“No, I…I can’t find my locket,” Goldie replied, willing herself not to cry. “It’s on a gold chain—it’s a filigree-etched square with a porcelain picture of a Louisiana iris and a tiny yellow butterfly. Somebody must have taken it off me when they brought me in.”

The nurse opened drawers and went through the nearby closet. “Here’s the bag that came with your personal belongings. Want me to check inside? It might be in your purse.”

Goldie nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

She watched closely as the nurse searched her leather purse then rummaged through Goldie’s clothes from last night. “I don’t see anything like that, honey. Maybe you gave the locket to someone for safekeeping before you came here?”

“No,” Goldie replied, trying to think. Had Rory removed the locket last night? Or had she lost it? She couldn’t remember. What if someone had taken it? She’d never forgive herself if something had happened to it.

“Just relax and I’ll ask at the desk,” the nurse advised, trying to reassure her as she handed Goldie her belongings.

Goldie bobbed her head. “Ask everyone. I have to find it. It’s very old and has a lot of sentimental value.”

“Okay.” The nurse walked toward the door. “I’ll see what I can do, but you know the hospital isn’t—”

“I know—not responsible for the loss of valuables,” Goldie repeated. “I understand.”

But she wanted her necklace back. She had to find it. So she waited for the nurse to leave, then she carefully got up to search on her own. She made it to the end of the bed but she stood up too quickly. Her pulse quickened as blood rushed from her head and made her dizzy.

And that’s when Rory walked in and grabbed her just as she reached for the bed for support.

“Hey, hey,” Rory urged, guiding Goldie back to the bed. “Where you going, sunshine?”

“My locket,” Goldie explained, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the stars flashing through her brain. “I…I think I lost it.”

He gazed down at her. She looked so young and innocent, lying there devoid of makeup. Her hair wasn’t exactly blond, more burnished and gold than a true blond. It shimmered like silky threads against her cheeks while the square patch of gauze just over her hairline shined starkly white. The frown on her face only made her look more like a lost little girl than a determined woman.

“I remember your locket. You were wearing it last night. At least, I saw it when I turned you over on the couch.”

“I was?” She sat up again. “Maybe I lost it at your house.”

“I’ll look when I get home,” he said. Because this woman had disrupted his life to the point that he was worried about her and what she meant to him as a man, he asked, “So what’s the deal with that pretty locket, anyway?”

She looked away, toward the window. “My daddy gave it to me before he went to war during Desert Storm. It has a picture of me and him inside it. He never made it home.”

“Oh, wow.” Rory felt bad for being so nosy. “I’m sure sorry to hear that. No wonder it means so much to you.”

“It does and it’s very old. It belonged to his great-great-grandmother. And my grandmother gave it to him to give to me on my twelfth birthday. It’s kind of a tradition in our family. Grammy says good things happen to the women who wear that locket. So far, that hasn’t exactly been the case with me.”