He didn’t want to think that. Their gazes met and held for a brief moment and something flared between them. She did fly up the path then, and rapped on the door even as it opened from inside.
Rick followed more slowly and watched as a man with thinning grey-streaked dark hair pulled Marissa into his arms and held her tight. The comfort given and exchanged in their hug caught at something inside Rick and his chest hurt as he acknowledged the deep closeness playing out in front of him.
‘Dad, this is the boss of Morgan’s, Rick Morgan. I told you and Mum I’m working for him while his secretary is on sick leave and Gordon is on holiday.’ Marissa rushed the words out and then her voice softened. ‘Rick, please meet my father, Abraham Warren, but he prefers Abe.’
Did Marissa’s face soften on his name? It had seemed to and while something inside Rick took the thought in a stranglehold and refused to let it go, heat rode the back of his neck as he shook the older man’s hand and murmured a greeting.
He was concerned. He needed Marissa to see her mother and feel assured that the woman would be okay. It wasn’t anything else. Certainly not some misguided and misplaced hope that Marissa’s father would approve—like—him.
‘Thank you for bringing Marissa to us.’ Abe stepped back. If he noticed anything odd in Rick’s demeanour, he didn’t show it.
Rick wished he had some of the same self-control.
Abe went on, ‘Come inside, both of you. Marissa, Mum’s fretting that you rushed to get here, but she’s also bursting to see you. Maybe she’ll settle down and rest once she has.’
The combination of protectiveness and residual worry in the man’s tone said it all.
The small unit had a living area filled with a two-seater couch and several chairs. A kitchen backed onto the area and there were rooms packed tightly together off a hallway to the right.
Bedroom, bedroom, bathroom, Rick guessed. The laundry room would be at the back behind the kitchen. A woman emerged through an open door and smiled at Marissa. Hugged her briskly and stepped aside. ‘Go on and see your mum. A rupture is nasty and it can be very dangerous but your mum’s going to be just fine and I’m staying two nights to watch her in any case. It only took me two hours to get here from Tuckwell. I left quickly when your dad phoned.’
Marissa stepped through the door and disappeared. A moment later Rick heard a soft sob quickly stifled, followed by a rush of low words. Marissa’s voice and another one—older, soothing and being soothed. He wanted to burst into the room, do something. Hold Marissa and never let anything upset her again.
Instead, he stood in the middle of the living room, fists clenched as he forgot all about the two people waiting there, watching him. Then he turned to Marissa’s father. ‘Your wife truly is well enough to leave the hospital? Marissa was worried.’
‘Yes, and Jean will help me keep an eye on her.’ Abe examined Rick with shrewd eyes that seemed to have realised something about his guest. Maybe that Rick had eyes only for his daughter.
Rick ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s been an uneasy few hours. Far more so for you, I’m sure.’
Abe stared hard at him for a long moment before he spoke again. ‘Very true. Now, how long have you and my daughter—’
‘Well, it must be time for a cup of tea.’ The nurse cleared her throat rather noisily. ‘How about I put the kettle on, Abe? I’m sure Tilda would enjoy a cup about now. We probably all could do with one.’
On her way past Rick, she gestured towards one of the squashy cloth-covered lounge chairs. ‘Why don’t you have a seat? And I’m Jean, Tilda’s sister, though I’m sure you’ve worked that out.
‘We can make our way through the introductions properly in a minute and you can tell us how the vintage car festival seems to be shaping up, how many of the cars you saw as you drove in.’ She glanced at Abe and her gaze seemed to warn him off launching a more personal inquisition. ‘It’s one of Milberry’s special weekends, you know.’
Rick had given away more of an interest in his borrowed secretary than he should have. At the moment he couldn’t raise much concern for the fact. Marissa had needed to get here. Rick had needed to smooth a path for her and he’d go on smoothing one for as long as he felt it was needed.
‘I’m afraid I didn’t take much notice of the traffic on the way in.’ Rick took a seat as ordered and put his hands on his spread knees. He gave himself time to look around this room owned by the people who had raised Marissa. There were photos of her everywhere.
Marissa as a baby, toddler, child and teenager and more recent ones.
‘Her hair was always curly.’ He murmured the words, took the cup that Jean offered, nodded his thanks. Cleared his throat. ‘It is rather noticeable. Her hair.’
‘Yes.’ Jean slipped into the other room to deliver the tea to Marissa’s mum.
That left Rick and Marissa’s father. ‘There won’t be any lingering effects from the illness, I hope?’
The older man rubbed a work-worn hand over his tanned jaw. ‘She’s exhausted now and they’ve given her some medication to deal with the after-effects but they say in a few days she won’t even know it’s happened. I’m just grateful …’ He swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘Now, if I can just get her to rest properly until she really is all better I’ll be satisfied. We could both get a bit of leave from our work—’
‘Rick, will you come in and meet Mum before she tries to have a nap?’ Marissa asked from the doorway of her mother’s room, and Rick rose immediately to his feet.
He caught her hand in his briefly at the door. Then he searched her face and noted the slight redness around her eyes. Asked in a low voice, ‘Will she mind me seeing her when she’s not a hundred per cent?’
‘Probably.’ Marissa’s smile held relief and gratitude and a wealth of affection for the woman Rick had yet to meet. ‘But her curiosity about my boss will overrule that.’
He didn’t feel like a boss right now. The expression in Marissa’s eyes as she looked at him, the way she’d curled her fingers around his hand—those hadn’t seemed very businesslike either.
They stepped into the bedroom together. There were no chairs. It wasn’t a hospital room, but the room shared by two people who’d loved each other and lived together for many years. A framed wedding photo hung on the wall at the foot of the bed. Knick-knacks sat cheek by jowl on a dresser with a man’s watch and a well-worn hat.
Rick imagined sharing such a room with Marissa. The idea was alien and stunning all at once. He turned to the woman in the bed. ‘I’m very sorry to know you’ve been unwell, Mrs Warren.’
Marissa stepped past him, went to her mother and caught her hand in hers, pressed it to her face and kissed the back of it before she eased down gently to sit on the bed beside her mum. ‘Yes, you’re not allowed to pull a stunt like that again, Mum. You scared me silly.’
‘I’ll try not to.’ Tilda Warren shifted slightly in the bed and, though her face bore the marks of the strain and discomfort she’d experienced, she looked enough like Marissa that Rick couldn’t help but like her on sight.
She smiled at Rick. ‘Thank you for bringing Marissa to us. I won’t pretend I’m not glad to see her. The last few hours were a bit frightening and I’m glad to see my girl.’
‘And now you’re going to rest and hopefully go to sleep.’ Marissa fussed a little and then, with obvious reluctance and an equal amount of determination, prepared to leave the room. ‘I’ll look in on you later, even if you’ve gone to sleep. Just to be sure …’
‘Thank you, love.’ Tilda sighed. ‘I admit I feel rather wiped out and I think I probably will sleep, at least for a while. They