Page 52 of Fool's Gold

She'd turned her head and murmured a while ago. It gave him hope she'd be all right.

It was dark outside, but he didn't mind sitting in the dark. It cocooned them together for the last night he'd spend with her. Leaving her was right. He couldn't hold her with lies and deception anymore. He knew she loved her career. This would give her time to pursue it.

If he was lucky, someday, she'd come back to him.

He reached out to touch her hand. Her beautiful eyes slowly swept halfway open.

"Rafe?"

"I'm right here, sweetheart," Rafe husked.

"I'm so sleepy." She yawned.

"I know, close your eyes and rest now. Nothing will hurt you anymore, sweet Sarah."

Her eyes fluttered shut.

He let go of her hand, sweeping a light caress across her fingers. He swallowed the lump in his throat and got to his feet. Men didn't cry, but he wanted to bawl like a two-year-old.

He gave her one last lingering look, memorizing her sweet features before he hustled out of the room. If he stayed one moment longer, he could never leave.

He shut the door firmly behind him. Leaving her was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he knew it was right. Had Sarah felt this way when she left on their wedding night? The notion haunted him.

He pushed away from the door, turned, and walked toward the nurse's station. He'd report she'd regained consciousness and then get the hell out of here before his nerve failed him. Phillipa would just have to mail the papers to him.

Rafe approached the nurse's station. He waited a moment, and when they continued to ignore him, he cleared his throat. Several nurses looked up.

The nurse closest to him frowned. "Yes, Mr. Halliday, how may I help you?"

"I wanted to report my wife regained consciousness."

Footsteps came down the hallway, and he looked up. A petite woman with red-gold hair, worn up in a twist, and an elderly lady in tow, strode toward him, followed by a tall elderly man with a thick mane of white hair.

Rafe recognized the red hair and obstinate tilt of chin from Sarah. This had to be Phillipa and Sarah's grandparents.

The redhead pushed her way to the nurse's station. "I'm Phillipa Morris, and I'm here to see my cousin Sarah Halliday."

"Visiting hours are over miss."

"I don't care," she snapped. "You take me in to see Sarah right now or I'll slap you with a lawsuit that will set you on your ear."

"Now, now," Granny Blake said, walking up to the desk. "I'm sure there's no need for argument. We've been informed my granddaughter was in an accident. We just now flew in from out of state, and we'd like to see her, please."

Sarah’s grandfather nodded, glaring at the nurse. "Don't dawdle, girl. Show us the way at once."

Phillipa's foot tapped impatiently.

"I'm Rafe Halliday. I'd be pleased to show you to Sarah's room," he said, ignoring the irritated look on the head nurse's face.

They all turned to glance at him. Grandma's gaze was sympathetic, Grandfather's assessing, and Pipi looked only plain accusatory. Rafe told himself he deserved her condemnation for the deception he'd pulled on Sarah.

The grouchy nurse said, "Very well, but make it a short visit. I can't have the other patients disturbed."

Rafe took Granny's elbow. "Follow me. I was just telling the nurse Sarah regained consciousness."

"Oh, thank heaven," Granny said.

"I always knew Sarah was a fighter," Phillipa muttered.

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