Almost To The Altar Read online

  Elise slowly lifted her head. Wil took both her hands in his, pressed a kiss to each palm, then cradled them in his warm grasp. “I’m sorry,” he told her. His voice carried a wealth of emotion.

  She felt a fresh surge of tears. “Oh, Wil…” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned into him. He shifted to sit beside her on the bench, then pulled her into his lap. Cradling her like a child, he pressed his lips to her temple. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why?” she sobbed. “Why did this happen?”

  “I don’t know.” Gently, he rocked her. “I don’t know.”

  They sat that way for a long time. She drew strength from his heat, while he drew solace from her touch. When she finally raised her head, she felt completely and utterly drained. The emotional turmoil of the past few hours had dragged the spirit from her soul. The look he gave her carried with it a host of emotions. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, to tell him that she understood, that words weren’t necessary. “We should go check on Nikki.”

  “I told Bill Garrison where to find us. We can stay here awhile.” He shifted her in his arms. “I’m sorry he did this to you,” he told her, referring to her father.

  “He’s hurting.”

  “So are you.”

  Slowly, she nodded. “Yes.” She buried her head in the crook of his neck. “Thank you for staying with me.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  The words sounded like a vow. “Wil?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry about tonight.”

  A shudder coursed through him. She felt it as his arms tightened around her. “I’m glad I could be here for you.”

  “No. I mean earlier.”

  “I’m sorry, too. Not for what we shared, for why we shared it. I didn’t want to hurt you, Aina.” His voice was gruff.

  “That word,” she said, deliberately steering the subject to safer territory. “What does it mean?”

  “What word?” he asked, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

  “Aina. Every time I asked, you told me it lost something in the translation.”

  “It doesn’t translate exactly,” he confessed, “but I can give you a close approximation.”

  Brushing the damp tendrils of hair from her forehead, he held her gaze for long, meaning-filled seconds. In his fog-colored eyes was a look that stole her breath, and some-!!how began to mend her soul. “It means ‘joy,’ Aina. You were always my joy.”

  Wil had no idea how long they sat in the chapel, waiting for some word on Nikki’s condition. Holding Elise in his arms he stroked her hair, breathed her scent. And over and over again, in his mind, he replayed the words of their conversation in her apartment. Calling himself a thousand kinds of fool, he found comfort in the way she clung to him. A few hours ago, he’d threatened to walk out of her life forever—not that he figured he had a snowball’s chance in hell of sticking to that threat. Something about Elise always drew him back. The thought that a few seconds later and she would have faced this crisis alone was enough to send him to his knees in front of her.

  Everything she said to him that night at the Rack Room had been right. He’d been too angry, too arrogant, to admit it, but she’d been right. He’d lost her once, but even then he’d been the one to withhold himself emotionally. He’d been so afraid of losing her that he pushed her away.

  Hiding behind Maks’s memory, he’d tried to drive her away from him. Twice. Why in heaven he should have been given another chance, especially when he’d managed to thoroughly screw up the first two, he didn’t know, but he cherished her closeness, protected it deep in his heart, where it completely filled the yawning void that he’d tried so long to ignore. She fit against him, and with him, as if she’d been made especially for that purpose. Her spirit linked with his to bring him a joy he’d never known. He clung to it like a fragile new flower, understanding how easily it could be crushed.

  For the first time in ten years, he fully realized the extent of the wrong he’d done her. Andrei’s anger had been like a palpable thing tonight. Wil had realized, too late, that his resentment had been misdirected, that he’d been so quick to judge Elise by his standards, never willing to trust her when she told him her side of the story.

  When he thought of Maks, sorrow flooded through him. It was past time he quit protecting himself and began thinking about Elise’s needs before his. She needed to be free from the terrible guilt she’d carried so long. He needed to free her from it. With a certainty born the minute he’d seen the cold look in her father’s eyes, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to tell Elise about Maks. Even if he lost her, he’d know that he’d set her free to heal. As soon as they had news about Nikolai, he vowed, he would give her the truth. If it helped heal the resentment, the bitterness, between her and Andrei, it would have to be enough for him.

  “Elise?” Bill Garrison’s voice sounded from the door-!!way.

  Both of them started. “Bill,” Elise said, scrambling from Wil’s lap. “What’s happened?”

  “Nick is coming out of surgery. His doctor should be out in a minute.”

  Wil rose from the bench, gathered Elise’s hand in his, then headed for the door. “Let’s go.”

  When they joined Andrei and Anna in the waiting room, Anna hurried to them. Elise hugged her. “It’s going to be all right, Mama. Everything is going to be all right.”

  Andrei turned back to the window, but this time Elise ignored him. She sat with her mother, holding her hand, waiting out the awful long minutes that ticked by. Bill paced anxiously around the room, and Wil did his best to keep from losing his sanity.

  Finally the surgeon joined them. The compassion in her gaze told Wil the news was not good, but neither was it devastating. Her scrubs were splattered with blood, her eyes tired, her face drawn. “I’m Karen English. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long,” she told the small group. “We removed all three bullets. The last one was lodged very near to his heart, and it took us a while to get to it.”

  “How is he?” Elise asked.

  “He’s resting. He sustained quite a bit of internal damage, and his condition is still critical.” She glanced around the room. “Nikolai seems to have an extraordinary will to live,” she said. “Once, we almost lost him.” With a slight smile, she pulled the green cap from her head. “But he wasn’t ready to go yet. The next few days will tell, but I’d set his chances at better than fifty percent.”

  Anna buried her face in her hands with a soft cry. Bill’s breath left his body in an audible whoosh. Elise wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Can we see him?” she asked.

  “One at a time,” Dr. English said. “And please don’t upset him. His condition is still very serious. Because I think it’s good for him, I’m going to authorize for one of you to be with him around the clock. You can take shifts if you want, but I think it will do him good to hear you. I want you to talk to him.”

  “We will,” Elise said. “Thank you.”

  Dr. English turned to go. “I really believe he’s going to make it,” she said. “He’s a very lucky man.”

  Nikki looked strange lying in the hospital bed, his dark hair rumpled against the pillows, his face drawn. Tubes jutted out from his nose and arms, while machines blipped and hummed around him.

  Slowly Elise approached the bed. When she folded his large hand in both of hers, she was surprised at its warmth. Somehow, she’d expected his skin to be cool to the touch. Life seemed to pulse through him, and in that instant, she found hope. “Oh, Nikki…”

  She pressed his hand against her face. “You promised you wouldn’t scare me like this.” It might have been a trick of the light, but she was almost certain she saw his mouth twitch. “And it’s nothing to laugh about, either,” she told him. “I could have lost you.”

  For countless moments, she simply stared at him, absorbed the blessed feel of life from his hand. “I love you,” she said. “You’ll never know how much I love you.” She might ha
ve imagined it, but the lines in his face seemed to soften.

  Brushing a lock of his thick hair off his forehead, she pressed a kiss there. “I have to go now. Mama’s going to sit here with you. I’ll come tomorrow, and we’ll talk,” she promised. Gently she laid his hand back on the sheets. “Get well, Nikki,” she whispered. “I need you to get well.” With a final look at his pale, sleeping form, she left the room.

  Wil was waiting for her just outside the door. She stepped into his embrace. “Thank you for bringing me,” she told him. “For being here.”

  He rubbed his chin on the top of her head. “Thank you for asking.” Tipping her away, he studied her face. “You all right?”

  “I will be.” With a deep shuddering sigh, she felt the tension drain from her. In its wake was a bone-deep exhaustion. “He’s going to be all right, Wil.”

  “Yes.”

  “Take me home? I’m exhausted.”

  She fell asleep the instant she sank into the passenger seat of his car. He buckled her seat belt, brushed her hair from her face, lingered to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Sleep, Aina,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”

  On the long drive back to her apartment, he had plenty of time to think about all that had happened. Like daggers to his heart, he recalled the angry words she’d hurled at him in her apartment in the minutes before Bill’s call. He was ashamed that it had taken a nearly fatal tragedy to make him realize the magnitude of his mistake.

  Elise was right. Every time she got close, he pushed her away.

  Oboe, he’d barely survived losing her. That was when his feelings for her had been the pure, uncomplicated longings of a young man. What he felt for her now bore no resemblance to that simpler time. Everything about the way he felt toward Elise was complex and frightening. He wasn’t sure he’d survive losing her again. The way she’d clung to him tonight in the chapel, the way she’d turned to him for comfort during the long hours of the night—he needed those things the way he needed oxygen. God help him, he’d allowed himself to love her again.

  His anger at Andrei still had not subsided. Nor, if he was honest, had his anger at Maks.

  Because he needed to touch her, he took her hand and rested it on his thigh. In her sleep, she turned her head toward him. The moonlight cast shadows on her face, em-!!phasizing the exhausted lines around her eyes and mouth. The confrontation with her father, he knew, had taken its toll. Emotionally battered, she’d been on the verge of collapse by the time she left her brother’s room. It amazed him that she’d made it to the car under her own steam.

  Unfortunately, he feared, the storm had not yet ended. Casting a quick glance at her, he couldn’t prevent the warm feeling that seeped through him. For tonight, he vowed, he would allow himself to be in love with her again. There’d be time enough for the problems tomorrow.

  By the time they reached her apartment, it was almost dawn. Elise was sleeping soundly. Wil didn’t have the heart to wake her. He dug through her purse until he found her keys, then lifted her from the car to carry her the short way to her door. She didn’t stir until he set her on the bed. As he straightened, he felt her fingers curl into his jacket. “Don’t leave,” she mumbled. “Please.”

  “I’m not leaving. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “No.” She didn’t open her eyes. “Here. With me.”

  “Elise—”

  She tugged at his jacket. “Please.”

  He couldn’t resist her. Carefully he removed her shoes so that he could settle her beneath the covers. He quickly shed his jacket and shoes, then crawled in beside her. She curled into his arms with a contented sigh. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Elise.”

  She pressed a sleepy kiss to his jaw. “And thank you for calling me, Elise.”

  He fell asleep, feeling content for the first time in ten years.

  Chapter Twelve

  Disoriented, Wil concentrated on the sound. It seemed to reach him through a long tunnel of fog. Pounding. Someone was pounding on the door.

  He opened his eyes, and memory assailed him. Elise still lay curled against him, her face pressed to the curve of his throat. Dark circles smudged her eyes, and tired lines still etched her face. She’d probably have to sleep for the next twenty-four hours before her body rejuvenated itself both emotionally and physically.

  Casting a quick glance at the clock, he realized it was nearly three in the afternoon. Gingerly, careful not to disturb her, he slipped from the bed. The cool air met his skin like an arctic breeze. Elise had awakened hours before, cold and shivering. Delayed shock had begun to set in. Wil remembered pulling the comforter on her bed around them, then needing to shed his chambray shirt, as he’d begun to sweat. Even the heat hadn’t been incentive enough for him move away from Elise, who clung to him in sleep as if he were the only thing that kept her from drowning.

  His temples throbbed from the tension and stress of the previous night, and as the pounding on her door continued, he shook his head to clear it. Stepping over his shirt, he walked, barefoot and bare-chested to the door. Dragging a hand through his disheveled hair in a fruitless at-!!tempt to restore order, he pulled open the door.

  And found himself eye-to-eye with Parker Conrad.

  Parker blinked. “Larsen.”

  “Hello, Parker.” The other man stared at him. Wil felt last night’s contentment begin to ebb away. “When did you get in from Bangkok?”

  “Earlier than you expected, evidently.”

  Frustrated, Wüil shrugged off his lingering exhaustion and motioned Parker into the apartment. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down. Elise is still asleep.”

  “Oh?” He raised a dark eyebrow.

  “This isn’t what you think. Not what it looks like.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” he said. “Elise wouldn’t betray me like this.”

  Despite his determination not to like the man, Wil’s opinion of him rose several notches. At least he had the good sense to respect Elise. “No. She wouldn’t.”

  Parker set his briefcase down on the hall table. “I was able to get back earlier than expected. When I went by the office this morning, Carrie told me about Elise’s brother. When I couldn’t reach Elise by phone, I was worried.”

  “I called Carrie this morning, then unplugged the phone. Elise is worn out. She needs to rest.”

  “Thank you for taking care of her.” The statement seemed genuine, free of hidden meaning. He’d followed Wil to the kitchen, where Wil scrounged about for coffee filters and coffee.

  “Do you know where the filters are?” he asked Parker.

  “Third cabinet, bottom shelf.”

  Wil tried not to feel irritated at the intimate knowledge of Elise’s kitchen cupboards. “Thanks.” He started the coffee maker before speaking to Parker again. “Like I said, this isn’t what it looks like.”

  “I suppose I should be glad that you don’t know where the coffee filters are.”

  Wil shook his head. “She needed someone last night. It was rough.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I think she needs sleep more than anything.”

  “How is Nikolai?”

  “Still critical, but he seems to be doing all right.” Parker sat in one of the oak chairs. Wil leaned his hip against the counter. “The next few days are going to be touch and go.”

  “She must have been terrified.”

  “Yeah.”

  A tense silence fell between them. When the coffeepot began to gurgle, Parker asked, “Were her parents there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.”

  “You think so?”

  The other man frowned. “Of course. Elise and I have discussed the situation in detail. It must have been quite difficult for her.”

  “It was.”

  “And you were there to pick up the pieces.”

  Wil ignored the sarcasm in the statement. He could just imagine how he’d feel if he came home to find anot
her man asleep in his fiancee’s apartment. Turning to pour two cups of coffee, he said, “Elise couldn’t have handled being alone last night. I was just glad I could be here for her.”

  After a long pause, Parker cleared his throat. “I am, too.”

  Wil handed him a mug. “I think things are going to be pretty hard on her until after Nick gets out of the hospital. She’s going to have to deal with her parents a lot, and Andrei isn’t exactly the forgiving type.”

  “So I understand.” Parker sipped his coffee. “How long have you known Elise, Wil?”

  Wil glanced at him in surprise. “Almost thirty years.”

  “Hmm.” He seemed to ponder the situation. “Have you ever known her to do something impulsive, for no reason at all?”

  “Sure. Lots of times.”

  “Hmm,” he said again. “I haven’t.”

  Wil frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Parker considered him for several long moments as he sipped his coffee. “I’m not sure,” he said at last. “I just think Elise and I need to talk about it.”

  Wil opened his mouth to speak, but just then the door of Elise’s bedroom opened. With her flannel pajama top half unbuttoned, her hair mussed and her eyes heavy-hdded with sleep, she looked more like fifteen than thirty-five. With a sinking sense of dread, he felt the full weight of responsibility bear down on him. The contentment he’d felt last night had come to an end. They were back in the storm.

  Elise glanced from Wil to Parker, then back again. “What’s going on? What time is it?”

  Parker stood to press a kiss to her forehead. Wil’s fingers tightened on his coffee cup. “It’s after three,” he told her.

  “In the afternoon.”

  “Yes, darling.” Parker brushed the hair off her forehead. “You must be exhausted.”

  She stared at him, still visibly disoriented. “You’re home.”