“I see,” Casey said. She retrieved her coffee cup and filled it. Sitting down at the table, Casey said, “Do you think something good is happening here? Maybe the raptor program broke something loose in Megan? I don’t know her. What do you feel?”
Matt remained leaning against the sink. The coolness of the granite counter calmed him to a degree. His heart was racing. His mind churned. “For whatever reason,” he rasped, keeping his voice purposely low so it wouldn’t carry to Megan’s opened door at the end of the hall, “Megan has finally bonded with someone. Every shrink I took her to said that before she would speak, she’d have to form a bond with another woman. They said at some point, she’d reach out and find a substitute mother. I guess that’s you, Casey….”
SHOCKED BY MATT’S STATEMENT, Casey whispered, “I’m not sure I can be that for Megan. I’d like to help her where and when I can, though.”
Rubbing his brow, Matt nodded. There was nothing to dislike about Casey. “Thanks, I realize this is an odd request. I really appreciate anything you can do.” He knew he was asking a lot of her. After all, Casey was a stranger to them, for all intents and purposes. He’d been so startled by Megan’s reaction to Casey, that he’d blurted his request out. Silently chastising himself, Matt realized belatedly he shouldn’t have asked that of Casey. She was a newcomer to the town and this was her first job after college. What a fool he’d been. How to fix it?
Biting down on her lower lip, Casey remained silent. Gwen Garner had told her everything about Matt’s tragedy. It wasn’t up to her to bring it up. She could see the pain in his eyes and had no wish to cause him more.
“I’m sure you know what happened to us,” Matt said without preamble. He automatically looked toward the hall to Megan’s room. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Mrs. Harrington saw such a change in Megan with the owl on her glove that she suggested I call the pediatric psychiatrist in Idaho Falls.” Matt added, “Barbara Ward has been the most help to me in understanding what’s happened to Megan.” He stared darkly down at the mug of coffee in his hands. “And you need to understand what happened, too.”
“Of course,” Casey murmured. Oh, how badly she wanted to reach out and give Matt some sort of solace! She could see his eyes alive with hope and fraught with guilt mingled with fear. His mouth, she was discovering, thinned whenever he was tense. It relaxed when he was not. He had a very kissable mouth. Casey was surprised at her reaction to him. Since her own near-death experience four years ago, she’d lost all interest in men. Until now.
Matt began, “Barbara told me that someday, when Megan’s memory of that night was ready to become conscious, something would trigger it.” He gave Casey a glance. The sympathy written across her features made Matt want to reach out and embrace her. He had no idea where all of that came from and savagely tamped down the unexpected desire. “I believe that the owl incident was a trigger, but I’m not sure. I have a call in to Dr. Ward to discuss it with her.”
“That sounds hopeful,” Casey said.
“Dr. Ward also said that Megan, at some point, might bond with another woman who she perceives as motherlike. A nurturing woman. She felt it would eventually happen.” Matt stared over at Casey and saw surprise flare in her eyes.
Raising her brows, Casey murmured, “Are you thinking Megan has bonded with me?”
Nodding, Matt whispered rawly, “I’ve never seen Megan throw her arms around another woman since her mother’s death. This is a big first, Casey.” Seeing the turmoil and hesitation in Casey’s features, he asked, “How do you feel about that?” He understood not every woman wanted to have children or to be a nurturing mother type. He’d seen other women take career paths where they showered their natural nurturing upon their employees or choosing service work to help others. All women were maternal, he felt, it was just a question of how they expressed it.
“I come from a large family,” Casey explained. “My parents were U.S. Navy pilots for twenty years until they retired from the military. There’s five girls in our family. And two sets of twins.” Casey smiled a little and said, “I’m from the second set of twins and the youngest—I’m twenty-four. My three older sisters say that Selene, my twin, and I, were spoiled rotten because we were the ‘babies’ of our family. I grew up happy in San Francisco. Not all my sisters want a big family.” She smiled fondly. “Selene and I were the ones who played with dolls. The other sisters loved Lego and geek stuff. Someday, I hope to have a family myself, but I’m too young to do that right now. I want to get some roots into my forest-service career.”
Nodding, Matt noticed the softness of her full mouth. “I see. Can I keep in touch with you about Megan after Dr. Ward calls me? I’m in limbo on this, Casey.” He had to give her options. It wasn’t fair to pin her down and insist she had to work with Megan.
Casey felt his desperation. This was a straw to grab at, she realized. His love for his daughter was clearly etched in Matt’s narrow eyes. Despite being a powerful and masculine man, he was being vulnerable with her. She remembered all too clearly her four attackers, big, strapping men in their late twenties, who were Matt’s size and height. There had been no vulnerability in them; they had nearly beaten her to death. Casey remembered some of her attack, but not all of it. She understood as few could about the memories of the trauma being locked away in her brain, too virulent and potentially threatening to her mental stability to be released. That was the way her shrink, Wanda Haversham, had described it to her while she was still in the hospital.
“I understand your position on this,” Casey told him quietly. She glanced over her shoulder toward the hall to make sure Megan couldn’t hear what she was going to say. She handed Matt her business card. “Call me when you hear something from Dr. Ward. I’ll be happy to help Megan if I can.” She saw instant relief come to his rugged features. His mouth suddenly relaxed. His hands released their grip around the coffee mug.
“Thank you,” Matt said, his voice echoing his relief.
SENATOR CARTER PEYTON sat in the rear of the black limo with his red-haired wife, Clarissa. He was continually on his cell phone with his assistants in Washington, D.C. Barely looking out the darkly tinted windows as the driver slowly made his way through the melting slush and traffic on the Easter weekend in Jackson Hole, he continued making his calls. Clarissa looked bored. But when didn’t she? At thirty-five, Carter knew everyone in Wyoming thought he had it made. He didn’t think so.
His life had taken a terrible, twisted turn three years earlier when his first wife, Gloria, and his two young children, Buck and Tracy, had died in a house fire just outside Jackson Hole. Anger grew in him as he thought about it again. And Matt Sinclaire was to blame. The lieutenant had been on duty that night when Gloria had called 911 in a panic. Their multimillion-dollar home that sat perched high on a hill, two miles off the main asphalt road, was on fire. He was stuck in Cody, Wyoming, because of a blizzard, after having attended a meeting of towns-people. The interstates had been shut down and no flights were available. Carter blamed himself for not being at home when it happened. If he had been, he knew his first wife and their children would be alive today. As it was, Sinclaire’s ineptness at getting that fire truck stuck on the muddy dirt road had doomed his family.
“Let’s eat here in town,” Clarissa said. She touched her lacquered red hair to ensure it was in place.
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