“I’m too tired. You go.”
Raven bit back a sigh and rubbed her hand against the back of her neck. She’d faced this kind of situation before. That didn’t make it any easier. She’d ring the doorbell one more time. If that didn’t work she’d have no choice but to bring Abby back to the cottage.
As she took a step toward the house she saw a dark figure stroll around the corner.
“What’s going on? Who’s out here?”
Shane. Finally. “Raven Stevenson. I’m with your aunt.”
“What? Why…? Never mind.” He came toward them, his movements easy and fluid. “Aunt Abby, you’re supposed to be asleep.”
“I went for a walk. This kind young lady brought me home.”
“Let’s get you inside.”
Shane leaned past Raven, his shoulder brushing against her arm as he lifted his aunt from the car. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t need to be carried, young man. I’m not an invalid.”
“You’re a damsel in distress. Let me play gallant knight.”
“You always were silver-tongued.”
Shane laughed, the sound vibrating through the predawn air. “True.” He glanced at Raven as he stepped toward the house. “You coming in?”
She wanted to say no. Wanted to go back to her warm house and her comfortable bed and pretend she didn’t care about Abby Montgomery. She couldn’t do it. There were things that needed saying. Things that couldn’t wait.
“Yes.”
Shane didn’t go in the front door as Raven had expected, but went back around the side of the house, carrying Abby as if she were featherlight. Raven followed him across the backyard toward a large outbuilding, feeling uncomfortable in a way she hadn’t with other patients, in other homes. But then, Abby wasn’t a patient.
“My office is above the garage. I do most of my work there. Looks like that might have to change.” There was pain, regret and a tinge of frustration in his voice.
Raven had heard them all before, had watched others experience the same during the past three years. But she couldn’t allow her empathy to stop her from saying what needed to be said. Abby needed proper care. Without it she’d continue to wander off, and eventually she might not return.
An outside staircase led to the upper level of the garage. Raven followed Shane up and into a large room, her gaze caught and held by myriad prints lining one wall. Colorful, bold, striking. All scenes from some fantasy adventure.
“Scenes from my books.”
“What?” Raven turned to Shane.
He’d settled Abby on a long couch and covered her with a blanket, his hand lingering for just a moment on her cheek. “The prints. They’re scenes from the books I write.”
“You’re an author?”
“I write inspirational fantasy adventures for kids.” He stepped to the back of the room and gestured Raven over. “Abby’s asleep. Let’s go in the kitchen.”
“I’d rather not leave her alone.”
“And I’d rather not have her wake and hear us talking about her. Life is hard enough for her right now.” Shane stepped through the doorway before Raven could argue further.
She hesitated, then followed.
The tiny kitchen sported a sink, a microwave and a small refrigerator. There wasn’t room for much more, and barely space for two people to move comfortably. Raven didn’t move. Just stood in the doorway, eyeing the man whose presence seemed to fill the kitchen. Jonas had been like that—so vital that everything around him paled in comparison.
“She wasn’t alone, you know.”
Raven blinked, tried to focus on Shane’s words. “Alone?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting to accuse me of? Leaving my aunt alone. Letting her wander around by herself when she needs to be supervised every moment of the day.” His words weren’t angry, just tired.
Raven could understand that. In the last days of Jonas’s illness she’d been tired, too. But not for the same reasons. “I don’t want to accuse you of anything. I just want to make sure you understand what you’re dealing with.”
“Believe me, I know. Abby’s been suffering from dementia for two years, and I’ve been her primary caregiver for the past three months.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility for one person, Shane.”
“I’m not doing it alone. I’ve hired people to come in and help out when I can’t be here.”
“That’s good, but not just any caregiver will do. You need trained professionals.”
Shane leaned against the counter. “Obviously you’re right. She’s wandered twice today.”
“Does she have other family? Other people who could pull shifts?”
“Abby’s son, Mark—but he’d rather have her in an assisted living facility than spend time caring for her. A few months ago he was ready to sell the house and move Abby.”
“And you said no?”
“Abby could never stand the thought of moving. I promised that if the time ever came when she couldn’t care for herself, I’d take care of her. That time is now. What choice do I have but to follow through with what I said?”
Plenty. Promises were as easily broken as they were made. “I understand you want to care for your aunt, but sometimes home isn’t the best place for a person with Abby’s problems.”
“In this case it is.” He straightened, opened the refrigerator and grabbed a soda. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
“I’m sorry Abby disturbed your rest.”
“She didn’t. I was already awake.”
Shane studied Raven over the rim of the soda can. She looked tired. Dark smudges marred the skin beneath her eyes and her face seemed a shade too pale. The white cotton shift she wore half tucked into a pair of baggy jeans could only be a nightshirt. Obviously she’d tried to sleep. Had worry kept her awake? Nightmares?
That he was curious worried Shane. He had too much to do, too many responsibilities to take on any more. Not that Raven was asking anything from him. On the contrary, she seemed quite capable of taking care of herself and everyone around her.
Did anyone take care of her?
Raven shifted and edged toward the door, nervous, it seemed, in the face of Shane’s scrutiny. He set the soda can down, purposely turning away
