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Authors: Arlene James

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BOOK: A Match Made in Texas
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He passed the phone back to her, glowering. He didn’t know why he was so upset, really. Just last night, he’d argued that Aaron didn’t have to stay, and truth be told, the fewer people who knew about his nightmares, the better. Yet, he found that he’d been looking forward to having Kaylie Chatam around. She seemed to bring a certain serenity with her, an assurance that, temporarily at least, banished his worries and made him believe that he could put yet another stupid, ugly episode behind him.

But who was he kidding? Some things could never be gotten over. Some decisions, some disasters, could not be left in the past. They could only be lived with, one torturous day at a time.

So be it, he decided angrily.

His past had left him with enough pain to go around, and he was suddenly in the mood to share.

Chapter Four

S
tephen Gallow, Kaylie decided, was as much child as adult. Honestly, the way he pouted! Then again, she should be used to it by now, for his behavior really was not much different from her father’s. Men! What was it that made them such impossible patients? Either they were too macho to give in to disease or, once overwhelmed by it, they wallowed in black despair and petulant behavior.

She thought of her mother and how patiently and cheerfully that dear woman had endured her own swift decline: dizziness so acute that she couldn’t stand without retching, vision so blurry that she could neither read nor watch television, pain so intense that there were whole days she could not lift her head from her pillow. At the end, she could not swallow even her own saliva, but she had smiled with gratitude every time someone had wiped her mouth for her. When relief had finally come, she had passed into the next life with the most peaceful expression imaginable. And Hubner Chatam had been angry ever since.

Why, Kaylie wondered, was Stephen Gallow angry? For angry he definitely was, so much so that she probably ought to tell him to keep his job or find someone else more to his
liking. But she didn’t. Instead, she remained mute, for what if she offered him her resignation and he took her up on it? After all, if taking the job was God’s will for her, then she had no business resigning it.

If that explanation did not entirely satisfy, she chose not to search for another.

Stephen expressed a sudden weariness, so she got him to his feet and helped him hobble back to the bed, his rapidly failing strength burdening both of them. Doolin came in just as they reached the bed, his arms laden with bags.

“Are you sure we didn’t forget something?” he quipped, dumping the bags on the chest at the foot of the bed. “I could’ve bought a nice gurney while I was out or a coffee plantation in Brazil. Hospital, anyone? I hear there’s a good one in Galveston, right on the beach. Palm trees, sun and sand.”

“Hurricanes,” Stephen growled, easing down onto the edge of the bed.

“Always looking on the bright side,” Aaron joked, digging into the bags. “Got those phones,” he said to his client, “and just in the nick of time. You’ll never guess who called. Okay, you will, because she’s been calling ever since you drove your car through your house.”

Kaylie gasped. “Is that what happened?” She looked at Stephen. “You drove your car through your house? But how is that possible?”

They both studiously ignored her questions. Instead, Stephen glared at Aaron. “You did
not
give her my new number. Tell me you did not give her my new number.”

“I didn’t give her your new number,” Aaron said dryly, huffing slightly as if Stephen had questioned his loyalty. “That way she can keep calling me and pleading to speak to you.”

Stephen looked away. “Tell her I’ll talk to her when I’m better.”

“I’ve been telling her that. She says if she doesn’t speak to you soon, she’s coming over here.”

Stephen seemed to dismiss that out of hand. “She doesn’t know where I am.”

“She knows where I am,” Aaron pointed out. “She knows where the arena is and the team offices.”

Stephen’s head jerked around, an appalled look on his face, but then he sighed. “I can’t deal with this now, Aaron. Find a way to put her off. Now, give me the phones.”

Aaron threw up his hands and went back to pawing through the bags. “I’m just saying…”

Confused and curious, Kaylie helped Stephen into a prone position.

“Get me the other pillow, will you?” he mumbled, his gaze averted. “I’ve spent enough time flat on my back.”

“All right.”

She went to do as requested, aware of Stephen and Aaron speaking quietly together in the next room. She returned with the second pillow and, after making Stephen comfortable in a semi-reclining position, she distributed the goods about the room, placing each item where it would be most handy. Meanwhile, Aaron and Stephen discussed the phones and their functions. Eventually, they called her over, and Aaron explained what amounted to a miniature handheld computer with a touch screen, camera, microphone and speaker. The thing was amazing and must have cost a fortune. She turned over the sleek contraption in her hand and looked to Stephen.

“This really isn’t necessary, you know.”

“I think it is,” he said dismissively, failing to meet her gaze.

Aaron jumped in, using his “good buddy” voice. “I’ve programmed in Steve’s new number, mine and the doc’s. The roll-up keyboard works like this.” He demonstrated, adding,
“Makes it easier if you’re not used to phone-pad texting. This way you just type.”

“Okay,” Kaylie said, pocketing the sleek new gadget. “If you say so.”

“One thing,” Stephen insisted, deigning to look at her. “I want your word that you’ll keep that with you at all times. Understood?”

Kaylie just barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “I’ll keep it with me at all times. And when you don’t need my assistance anymore, I’ll return it.”

Stephen bobbed his head in a curt nod. Aaron split an uncertain look between the two of them and clapped his hands together with forced joviality. “Okeydoke. I am off to see the little woman.” He walked backward toward the door. “Either of you need anything, you give me a shout.” He paused in the doorway long enough to point a finger at Stephen and say, “I’ll see you in a day or two, kid. You behave yourself and let nurse darlin’ take care of you. Understand?” He winked at Kaylie and blew her a noisy kiss, exclaiming, “Angel of mercy!” With that, he turned and hurried from sight.

Stephen put his head back and closed his eyes, dismissing her as effectively as if he’d turned his back on her. Unfortunately for him, she’d had a good deal of recent experience in dealing with hardheaded men. Leaning a shoulder against the bedpost at the foot of the bed, she folded her arms and regarded him thoughtfully. Kaylie very much wanted to ask Stephen about the “she” whose phone call to Aaron Doolin had so obviously upset him earlier, but she had no plausible professional reason for doing so. She didn’t see anything to be gained by taking him to task for his attitude, but the accident, on the other hand, seemed well within her purview, her personal curiosity aside.

“It might help me to know about your accident,” she said after a long moment of silence.

He opened an eye and peered down his nose at her. Closing that eye again, he settled more comfortably. She assumed that would be the end of it, but just as she dropped her arms and started to straighten away from the bedpost, he spoke.

“I accidentally drove my car through the garage wall and into my house. What else do you want to know?”

Horrified, she shook her head, grasping the bedpost with both hands. “How on earth did such a thing happen?”

Sighing richly, he opened both eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “Some friends had driven my car and left it parked outside with the top down and a storm threatening.” Kaylie winced. “Worried that the storm would ruin the interior, I rushed out to move the car into the garage, but when I should have hit the brake, I accidentally hit the gas pedal.”

“Oh, my, and in a convertible, no less.”

“A very expensive convertible with a powerful engine. Powerful enough to propel me through two walls and right into a free-standing fireplace.”

“Goodness!”

“Nothing good about it,” he said sourly. “Not only was the car ruined, the house all but came down.”

“No wonder your injuries are so serious!”

He lifted a hand to his head, as if holding down the top of it. “Nothing I don’t deserve for being so incredibly stupid.
Idiotic dwass,
” he muttered.

She didn’t need to know Dutch to understand the gist of that. Her heart went out to him. He might be a spoiled sports figure, but he was also a seriously injured man whose pride had obviously been as battered as his body.

Her father had his faith and his family to help him overcome his loss and his health issues, but what or who did Stephen Gallow have? Only himself and his sports agent, as far as she could see.

Was that why God had brought him here to Chatam House? Of course it must be. She’d already considered the possibility that Stephen Gallow’s sudden presence in her family’s life had to do with a loving God’s plan for her father, but God continually reached out to all of His creation. She must not forget that fact. It was as if God’s love for Stephen Gallow imbued her in that moment. Instinctively, she reached out a hand to him.

That hand fell upon the covers blanketing his foot, his huge foot. That foot would make two of hers, and yet, she sensed that deep inside he was as lost and troubled as any little boy alone in the world. He might be a gladiator on the ice, but here and now he was a wounded patient in need of a kind, caring hand.

“Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head.

“Are you in pain?”

“No more than usual.” He flattened his mouth then said, “Not as much as earlier.”

Accepting that she could do nothing more for him at the moment, she nodded and moved toward the door, saying, “I’ll just take your breakfast tray down, then.” Pausing, she looked back at him. “I could bring you a book. The aunties have quite a library, you know.”

He lifted his eyebrows at that, but then he shrugged. Kaylie smiled and went out. She was halfway down the stairs, having left the tray in the dumbwaiter, when the new phone in her pocket dinged and vibrated. Surprised, she dug it out and peered at the screen.

It read, “Sports. Thrillers. Sci-fi. Westerns.”

She understood that he was telling her what sorts of books he preferred, most likely in the order that he preferred them. Awkwardly, she typed out a return message, pecking at the tiny keyboard with the tip of her forefinger. “See what I can find.”

She watched as the message went on its way, then she went on hers, shaking her head. How odd that Stephen seemed to find it easier to reveal his tastes in a text message rather than in person. That seemed to say something important about him, something sad.

 

As Kaylie had told Stephen, Hilda Worth and her husband, Chester, along with Hilda’s sister Carol Petty, had been taking care of Kaylie’s aunts and Chatam House for decades. The aunts considered them family, and since they lived in what had been the carriage house, they were ever-present fixtures about the estate, as much a part of it as the magnolia tree on the west lawn, the rose arbor on the east and the priceless antiques that comprised the majority of the furnishings. None of the family would treat the staff with less consideration than they would allow each other, which was why Kaylie went straight to the kitchen to clean up after her patient.

That was exactly where Aaron Doolin found her, up to her elbows in the enameled, cast-iron sink. She rinsed the last dish and set it in the folding wooden dish drainer next to the sink before drying her hands on a towel and turning to face him.

“I thought you left.”

“Yeah, I thought I had, too, then I remembered to do what I’m paid to do.” He waved a sheaf of papers at her.

“What are those?”

Doolin trained his practiced smile on her. “We never discussed salary and what all.” It was the “what all” that made her narrow her eyes. Aaron rubbed hands together. “How does a thousand dollars a day sound?”

She laughed, thinking it was a joke. “Ridiculous.”

He grimaced. “Okay, eleven hundred.”

Oh, now, this was absurd. No wonder Stephen had expected around-the-clock availability. She parked her hands at
her waist. “You can’t be serious. What were you paying the last person?”

“Nine hundred,” Aaron said, poking a finger at her. “What? You think we’re trying to go on the cheap now, pay you less than the last guy? I can show you the canceled check, if you want.”

It took several seconds for her to conclude that he meant it, and when she did, she could only shake her head. “Wow, did he ever see you coming. You can hire a private nurse at half the cost from any agency in the Metroplex area.”

Aaron’s salt-and-pepper brows shot up, but then he rubbed his chin, watching her as if she was some alien life form. “Did I forget to mention the nondisclosure contract? You can’t talk about any of this, you know. Nada, nothing. Not a thing that has to do with Steve or his care.”

“All medical personnel are forbidden by law to discuss their patients. Didn’t they explain that to you at the hospital?”

Aaron looked perplexed. “Well, yeah, but the other guy said that only applied there.”

“The ‘other guy’ was unscrupulous, then,” she told him.

Doolin shrugged and declared, “Who knew! He came to me, said we’d need someone discreet. I’m no health professional. How was I supposed to figure out this stuff?”

Frowning, Kaylie folded her arms. “I’ll be glad to give you an address where you can report him, if you like. I’m sure the hospital would be eager to know that one of their employees is soliciting private jobs, too.”

Aaron cleared his throat and said, “Ah, maybe the less said there, the better. I mean, we’re the ones trying to keep a low profile, right? So, um, what would you consider a fair daily fee?”

She told him, and he seemed dumbfounded for a moment. “Really?” he asked weakly.

“Really. Just don’t expect more than eight hours a day
from me. As I’ve already explained to Stephen, I won’t be spending nights here.”

Doolin frowned warily. “Are you sure he’ll be okay?”

“As long as he behaves sensibly.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Look, I’m not a babysitter. I’m a nurse.” He opened his mouth to argue the point, but she cut him off. “All right, all right. That’ll work itself out. Let’s concentrate on one issue at a time. How about we do it this way? How about you pay me by the hour, then if the job requires more time than I think it will, we’re all happy.”

Doolin nodded. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll keep track by phone. You send a text when you arrive and when you leave. I’ll verify it with Stevie and write the check. What hourly rate were you thinking of?”

She told him, and the deal was at last struck. Evidently pleased with himself, Aaron beamed then scowled very sternly. “But you still have to sign the nondisclosure agreement. That’s just how we roll on this.”

BOOK: A Match Made in Texas
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