Page 24 of If She Only Knew (The Cahills 1)

Alex turned away.

Only Nick’s posture didn’t change. He continued to watch her as, with trembling fingers, Marla snapped the compact open and stared into the tiny mirror.

Oh, God, she thought, sucking in air through teeth wired shut. It was worse than she’d imagined. Not only was she bruised and swollen, discolored in shades of yellow-green and pale purple, but the face staring back at her was that of a stranger.

Chapter Four

Watching Marla, Nick gritted his teeth. With the hand not attached to an IV, she gently touched her face, her fingers tracing the bruises and scabs, even the stubble over the part of her head that had been shaved. To her credit, she put on a brave show, not giving in to tears that he suspected were just beneath the surface. She swallowed hard and tenderly fingered a row of stitches that showed through the fuzzy growth of new hair. “Oh, God,” she whispered, blinking several times before finding some grit and visibly stiffening her spine. “I . . . I don’t think I’d even pass as the Bride of Frankenstein . . . you know what they say, always a bridesmaid, never a . . .” Her words were mumbled, said with difficulty. She tried to smile, but failed and her chin trembled ever so slightly.

Nick could barely watch this woman he’d sworn to hate, the one who had used him, betrayed him, and ended up his brother’s wife.

“It’ll be all right,” Alex said, taking the compact from her hand and snapping the gold case shut. “Just give yourself time.”

“That’s right. In a couple of months, you’ll be yourself and you’ll laugh . . . well, at least put this behind you,” Eugenia forced a grin that showed a hint of gold fillings. “We all will.”

“I will never laugh about this,” Marla shot back.

“None of us will.” Alex shot his mother a warning look.

Nick silently agreed. In his estimation, the truth was better than false hope and the facts spoke for themselves: Marla Amhurst Cahill had nearly died and right now she looked and probably felt like hell. The road to her recovery was bound to be long and bumpy.

“I . . . I don’t know if I’ll ever be myself.” Marla, still stricken, glanced at Nick, her gaze skating across his for only an instant, as if he alone understood. “I just don’t feel that I’m . . .” She let her voice trail off.

“You’re what?” Alex said.

She looked from one person to the other. When she met Nick’s gaze, a shadow of an emotion he couldn’t read chased across her eyes, only to quickly disappear. “I don’t know who I am.”

“Oh, brother,” Cissy intoned and was rewarded with a don’t-even-say-it look from her father.

“You’ll be fine,” Alex predicted.

Nick didn’t believe it. She’d never be fine. Never had been. Yet a needle of guilt pricked his conscience as he saw her bruised face. For years he’d shoved her out of his mind and when he had thought of her it had only been with jaded disregard. Now he witnessed her wan and battered and fighting for some grain of dignity.

Cissy pretended to be staring out the window as she ran her fingers absently over the vents of the air-conditioning unit, but Nick could almost see the gears grinding in the teenager’s mind. From the corner of her eye she was watching her mother. Something was definitely going on there.

“Don’t you worry, things are going to be just fine. Once you get back home, with the baby . . . and the rest of us. You’ll see.” Eugenia took the compact from her son and dropped it quickly into her purse.

Nick wanted to get the hell out. This was about as much family togetherness as he could take for one day.

“You were here before.” Marla was looking at him again.

He gave a cursory nod and held her gaze. “A few hours ago.”

“I remember.” She said it as if awed and then lines deepened on her forehead. “The outlaw.”

“That’s right.” Was it his imagination or was there a flicker of more than idle curiosity in her gaze?

“There was someone else here, too,” she said.

“With me?” Nick shook his head.

“No . . . no . . . I mean before you came in. At least . . . I think . . .” Her eyes clouded and she looked away, studied the folds of the blankets that were bunching at her waist. “Yes, I’m sure of it. Someone who didn’t say a word, he came in and . . . and stood right there by the bed . . . Oh, damn it, I know this sounds paranoid, but it . . . it seemed real.”

“Nonsense,” Eugenia said with a high-pitched, isn’t-that-a-silly-notion laugh. “It was probably a nurse.”

“No.” Marla was frustrated. Agitated. “Maybe I was dreaming. But I do remember, or . . . I think I do . . . that I actually heard all of you here . . .” Her eyebrows drew together over a face that had once been breathtakingly beautiful. “You were here another time . . . or was it twice before? Oh, God, I can’t remember.” She lifted a hand to shove the hair from her face and then stopped suddenly when her fingers encountered the bald spot above her left eye and the stitches in her scalp.

“Many,” Eugenia said kindly. “We were here many times.”

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