Page 61

“How can you say anything of the sort. She’s ill, Shane!” Mara retorted, her frayed emotions getting the better of her.

“Are we going to see Grammie?” Angie asked, heading up the stairs.

“In a few minutes,” Shane replied, and squatted down to face his daughter. “Grammie’s a little sick, and she needs a little time to recover . . .” His dark gaze sent Mara a dubious, incomprehensible look. “So why don’t you and I go over to the park for an ice-cream cone?”

Angie puzzled the question for a moment. “And then I can see Grammie?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” Mara said with a wan smile, before quickly hurrying up the stairs.

“Mara?” Shane called, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“Yes?”

A pause. “Good luck.”

Mara smiled before knocking softly on the door and entering June’s home. Everything was just as she had left it, the cool blue hues of the interior, the overstuffed floral couch, and everywhere, pictures of the family.

A door whispered closed and Mara looked up to meet the questioning gaze of a professional-looking, robust woman of about fifty. “You’re June’s nurse,” Mara guessed. “Ms. Hamilton?”

“That’s right. Who are you?”

Strong forearms folded tightly over her bosom.

“I’m Mara Wilcox, June’s daughter-in-law,” Mara explained with a polite though stiff smile. “How is she?”

“She’s much better,” the nurse began, relaxing slightly. “Dena said that you would be coming.”

“Is Dena here, now?” Mara asked.

“I asked her to go home. She was absolutely beside herself!” The nurse took a seat on the sofa. “You can call her if you like,”

“No . . . no, what I would really like to do is see my mother-in-law, and offer to help her any way I can. How serious is her condition?”

“Dr. Bernard thinks she’ll be up and around in a few weeks.”

“But I thought she had several strokes . . .”

“Yes, but, fortunately only minor ones, and if she’s careful, with her diet and exercise, she’ll be fine. She’ll just have to slow down a bit, that’s all.” Mara listened while the nurse continued to describe June’s condition, and a feeling of relief washed over her as she realized that June could, quite possibly, live a normal, healthy life. “She’s awake, now. Would you like to see her.”

“Yes,” Mara said, walking after Anne Hamilton toward June’s bedroom.

The woman in the bed was hardly recognizable to Mara. Thin, drawn, and frail, without a trace of color on her cheeks, June looked much worse than Mara had expected. Pale blue eyes focused on Mara as she entered the room.

“Mara . . . is that you?” June asked weakly.

“I . . . I came as quickly as I could. Oh, June, how are you?”

“Still kicking,” June allowed with a thin smile. She turned her eyes toward the nurse. “Could you give us some time alone?” she requested. The nurse smiled her agreement, but in a guarded look that she passed to Mara, she said more clearly than words, Don’t upset her.

“June,” Mara began, trying to think of a gentle way to break the news of her forthcoming marriage. “There’s something I want to tell you.” She stepped more closely to the bed and June raised a bony hand to wave off the words that were suspended in Mara’s throat.

“No, Mara, it’s my turn,” the elderly woman stated with a raspy breath. “I’ve spent the last day waiting for you to show up, becauseIhave to tell you . . . something I should have done a long time ago.” For a moment the tired eyes closed, and Mara felt stifled and confined. The smell of antiseptic, the vials of pills, the thinly draped figure on the bed—it all seemed so cloyingly and disturbingly unreal.

The old woman continued. “I know that Shane is Angie’s father,” June said with a sigh.

“What . . . but how . . .”

June ignored Mara’s question and continued with her own confession. “I’ve known about it for several years. When Peter found out about his illness . . .” —her voice caught—“. . . that it was terminal, and that he couldn’t father any children of his own, he told me that another man, one presumed dead, was Angie’s real father. And if he seemed harsh with Angie, it was because he knew that he couldn’t have children of his own.”