Read Hearts Made Whole for Free Online Page B

realize . . . I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”
    She wrapped the quilt around herself, shrouding her nightgown and protecting her modesty. Meanwhile, he retreated from the room into the hallway. He bent over and picked up a discarded pair of trousers and made quick work of jerking them on over his drawers, still only using one hand, which made the movements awkward and slow.
    â€œI had no idea you were in the bed.” His voice was tight with pain or embarrassment—she couldn’t tell. “Who sleeps in the middle of the day anyway?”
    â€œI could ask the same of you.”
    He ducked his head and reached for a shirt. And that was when she saw his hand, the hand he’d been trying to hide. It was mangled, three fingers were missing, and his wrist and lower arm were laced with white scars that stood out against his sun-bronzed skin.
    When he saw where her attention was directed, he wrappedhis shirt around the wound, grabbed a pair of dirt-streaked socks from off the floor, and stumbled down the hallway away from her.
    â€œCaroline?” Sarah called again from the other bedroom.
    â€œEverything’s fine,” Caroline assured. Actually nothing was fine, but she couldn’t worry Sarah. Instead she followed Ryan into the kitchen.
    He stopped at the table, swayed, then grabbed onto a chair to steady himself.
    She wanted to ask how he’d been injured, but she guessed he’d already gotten enough questions from everyone else he met and didn’t need any more from her.
    His back stiffened, and he seemed to be waiting for her barrage of questions about the war. She stood silently, forcing herself not to look at his injured hand wrapped in his shirt.
    His knuckles were white where he gripped the chair. After a few minutes, he glanced at her sideways. She met his gaze head on. She wouldn’t let this awkward situation intimidate her.
    He cleared his throat. “I should have knocked. Or at the very least I should have made sure the bed was empty.”
    â€œThat would have been helpful.”
    He straightened and turned to face her. In the bright light streaming in the kitchen window, she could see even more clearly that he’d been a handsome man at one time, that with a haircut, shave, and the addition of several pounds, he’d be a striking man again.
    â€œI hope you’ll forgive me,” he said, his eyes pleading with her.
    â€œOf course.” Maybe she could forgive him for crawling into her bed with her, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to forgive him for barging into her life and taking away her job.
    â€œYou sure do pack a punch with your pillow.” He glancedat the pillow she was still holding. “I hope you’re not planning to hit me again.”
    Exactly how many times had she whacked him? Embarrassment seeped through her. She started to lower the pillow to her side, but a teasing glimmer in his eyes stopped her.
    â€œI suppose I should be grateful you didn’t reach for a shoe,” he added with a half smile.
    From the sadness swimming in the deep brown of his eyes, she had the feeling he hadn’t had much to smile about lately. She offered a tentative smile in return. “I’ve been known to pack a good punch with an oar.”
    â€œAn oar?” His grin inched higher on one side.
    â€œOnce, my father startled me when I was in the boathouse putting away supplies.” Her smile widened at the memory. “I should have put the oar down before turning.”
    â€œOuch.”
    â€œYes, I knocked him flat on his back.”
    â€œI’ll have to remember to stay away from you when you’re handling an oar.”
    Her smile faded. He wouldn’t have to remember to stay away from her. He wouldn’t have to remember anything about her. Not when she was being forced to leave.
    As if sensing her thoughts, he glanced away, first to the wood-burning stove in one corner, then to the