Both of them had been so young. At seventeen, Tom wasn’t a child, but he hadn’t yet grown into a man. No wonder the war affected him so.
“They put him in the trenches. The heck of it is, he said he joined the fight because of me. His father—my father’s valet—wrote to me, begging me to promise to keep him safe. How I was supposed to do that when we weren’t in the same unit was unclear. But what could I do? Mr. Lightfoot had given his entire career to my family, and now his only son had enlisted in a horrific war because he wanted to be like me. His wife had died giving birth to Tom. So what else could I do, but promise Mr. Lightfoot that whenever it was in my power, I would keep his boy safe?”
Elsa heard in his voice the heaviness of the responsibility he’d accepted. She inhaled deeply and blew out again. “Is that a promise you’re still trying to keep?”
The corner of his lips hooked his cheek. “Trying, yes. I learned not to make promises ever again, I can tell you that much. Not because I don’t want to keep them, but because it’s impossible to know if I can.”
“He’s lucky to have you in his life,” Elsa said.
“I don’t know about that, but we understand each other. I’m trying, at any rate.”
“I know you are.” She leaned her head back against the vinyl lounge chair, allowing her gaze to drift on the water lining the pool. Silver reflections blinked with every drop of rain.
“Well, have I talked enough to give you a chance to recover?” he asked.
A small laugh escaped her. She’d been trying to recover for seventeen years. But that’s not what he meant. “I overdid it,” she admitted, since there was no point in pretending otherwise. “I still feel winded, but at least I can talk. But my leg—” She laid a hand on her knee. The brace she wore was short enough not to show under her hem. Her first leg brace went from under her ribs to her ankle. She wouldn’t go back to that. “My left leg is weak,” she admitted. “Weaker than usual. And now it’s pretty sore.”
“When was the last time you saw a doctor about it?”
She shook her head. “I’m not going back.”
The rain stopped. As quickly as it had begun, the storm relented. Light fell through the glass ceiling, fractured on palm fronds, and lay in stripes across Luke’s face.
“You don’t like doctors?” he asked. “Neither do I. You don’t want to hear what they have to say? I get that. But sometimes we have to do hard things. If you need a certified ambulance driver to get you there, I know where you can find one.”
She stared at him, surprised at the sincerity in both his expression and his words, then broke from his gaze. “Thank you, but I said I’m not going. We ought to be getting back to the mansion.” She pushed herself up to stand with no incident. But when she attempted the first step with her bad leg, it buckled beneath her.
Luke caught her, holding her firmly against him. “I’ll get the truck.”
Elsa didn’t argue with that.
CHAPTER
9
“I’ll wait for you outside.” Elsa was ready to trade the dank odor of the pool building for open air and the warmth of the returning sun.
“Sure.” Luke scooped her up again, as though she were no burden at all.
“Oh! I didn’t mean you had to carry me.” She looped her arm around his neck anyway. The rain-dampened shirt beneath her hand clung to his muscled shoulder.
“The point of me getting the truck is so you don’t have to walk and further stress your leg. Where to?” Stepping outside, he squinted in the suddenly too-bright light. “That bench near the bird feeder?”
“Yes, please.” If any birds ventured out after the storm, she’d enjoy observing them there.
When they reached it, Luke set her down. “How are your lungs?”
Taking a seat, she took a deep breath. “A little better.”
Barney sat on the ground beside her.
Luke nodded at the dog. “Looks like he’ll stay with you while I fetch your ride.”
“Will he chase away the birds?” she asked. But so what if hedid? They could fly out of his reach, and they could come back. An aging war dog ought to have a little fun in his retirement. Just not with her specimens.
“He’s worn out from his earlier adventure. Be good, Barn. See you soon.” Rolling up his shirtsleeves, Luke turned and walked away with an enviable ease and grace of movement.
She peeled off the slicker. Closing her eyes, she relished the sound of the calming breeze through the pine needles and the black-capped chickadees in the woods. What little busybodies they were, chattering about everyone else’s business.
