Hometown Sweetheart. Victoria Pade

him or with Theresa’s nurse. “Once the police realized that your grandmother was here, I was brought in and I’ve been looking after her ever since, so there wasn’t any hurry.”

      “Still, I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression—we’ve all been crazy-worried about Gram and would have been here in a heartbeat if we could have.”

      Neily led the two new arrivals from the entry into the living room.

      “Where is Gram?” Wyatt Grayson asked, glancing around in search of his grandmother.

      “Why don’t you and Ms. Gordman—”

      “Mary Pat,” the larger woman said, her first words.

      “Why don’t you and Mary Pat have a seat and I’ll try to get Theresa down here to see you? She’s been in the bedroom all day and I’d like her to come out if she’s willing,” Neily told them.

      Neither the nurse nor the grandson accepted the invitation to sit, and Neily’s impression was that they were both too concerned about Theresa to relax. That, too, seemed like a good indication they truly cared for the woman.

      Neily excused herself and retraced her steps to the entryway, climbing the stairs to the second level.

      She knocked lightly on the door of the master suite but didn’t wait for a response from inside. She’d already learned that more often than not Theresa was too lost in her own world to even hear the knock.

      Neily had predicted that Theresa would be sitting in the rocking chair and that was exactly where the older woman was, rocking back and forth as if the motion soothed her, staring at nothing in particular.

      Theresa Hobbs Grayson was a relatively small woman—a full four inches shorter than Neily’s five-foot-four-inch height. But she was somewhat rounder than Neily, who didn’t carry many extra pounds. Theresa’s salt-and-pepper-hued hair was cut short and neat, and while her gray eyes didn’t hold the luster and life and different play of colors that her grandson’s did, it struck Neily that Wyatt had inherited his own sparkling gray eyes from his grandmother. Along with his good looks, because Theresa was an attractive older woman.

      “Theresa?” Neily said quietly when she didn’t show any notice that Neily had come into the room.

      “Mikayla?” the older woman said when she did glance up.

      “No, remember? It’s Neily.”

      “Yes—Neily. I made that mistake again, didn’t I?” the older woman said vaguely.

      “Your grandson Wyatt is downstairs,” Neily told her, watching closely for the woman’s reaction.

      It was another positive sign that Theresa brightened at that news—her eyes, her face, even her posture perked up.

      “My Wyatt?” she repeated happily.

      “And Mary Pat…”

      “Mary Pat, too?” Theresa asked as if that were the frosting on the cake.

      But then she sobered and became pensive again. “They haven’t come to make me leave, have they? I can’t go away from here. I won’t. Not till I get what’s mine!”

      “I know. And, no, your grandson and Mary Pat aren’t going to make you leave. They’ll be staying here with you.”

      “They will?”

      That sounded pleased and hopeful rather than fearful—something else Neily took note of.

      “Will that be all right? For them to stay here in the house with you? Even if I leave?”

      “Oh, yes. And they’ll help me. I know they will. They’ll help me get back what’s mine. My Wyatt takes care of everything while Mary Pat takes care of me. They’re very good to me, my little darlings.”

      “Would you like to come downstairs and say hello to them?”

      “To Wyatt and Mary Pat and no one else?”

      “Everyone else is gone. And the house looks so much better—you should see the good things that were done today while you were up here.”

      “I’d like to see Wyatt and Mary Pat.”

      “Let’s go down then.”

      Theresa had no problem rising from the rocking chair or accompanying Neily down the steps. And the moment she caught sight of her grandson and caregiver, she passed Neily to hurry into the living room and hug them both like a child thrilled to see her loving parents after a separation. Clearly the older woman had no fear of either Wyatt Grayson or Mary Pat Gordman. It helped to confirm for Neily what the Missoula caseworker had said—that it was okay to turn Theresa’s daily care over to them again while her situation, living conditions and ability to live at least somewhat independently were looked into.

      “Oh, my dears, my dears! I’m so glad to see you!” Theresa was gushing. “But, Wyatt, where are Mikayla and the baby? Didn’t you bring them? I still haven’t seen that baby!”

      Neily’s interest got even stronger as she watched Wyatt Grayson’s expression tense before he said, “Remember, Gram—Mikayla and the baby died.”

      Theresa pressed her fingertips to her cheeks on both sides of her face. “I’m sorry! I forgot again. I’m sorry, Wyatt, I’m sorry.”

      “Me, too. But it’s all right. We’re just glad we found you. You gave us all the scare of our lives.”

      “I had to get back here,” Theresa confided as if she were telling a secret. “This is where I was born, you know,” she added, motioning to their surroundings.

      “We knew you were born in a small town near Billings,” Wyatt said. “But that was all you ever told us. We didn’t know the name of the town or that you still owned a house here.”

      “The lawyer pays the taxes. I think he pays to have someone look after it, too. Grampa had it arranged that way for me years and years ago and it’s been happening automatically ever since. But I needed to come back now. I needed to, Wyatt!” Theresa said, suddenly sounding desperate and on the verge of getting upset.

      “It’s okay, Gram. We’re just relieved that you’re safe.”

      “Safe. I’m safe. I’m a bad person—you don’t even know it—but I’m safe…”

      Neily had seen this happen several times the last few days—Theresa drifting off while talking, things creeping into what she was saying that didn’t make sense. In her brief experience Neily had already learned when that happened, talking to the older woman any further was futile. Pressing her only agitated her and nothing concrete or informative could be garnered from that point on.

      Her grandson must have known that himself because he didn’t push her.

      Like a small child, Theresa moved to Mary Pat’s side then, looping her arm through the nurse’s. “I want to go to bed now. Will you read to me while I fall asleep, Mary Pat?”

      The nurse patted Theresa’s arm, tucked her in closer to her bulky side, and said, “I brought the book we started last week.”

      “I hope you didn’t read any without me.”

      “Not a word,” the nurse assured her.

      Wyatt told Mary Pat that he would bring in her suitcase while she was getting his grandmother to bed, then he said to Theresa, “I’ll come up and say goodnight in a few minutes.”

      “Yes, in a few minutes,” Theresa echoed before the nurse took her upstairs.

      Neily and Wyatt Grayson watched Theresa and her nurse until they were out of sight.

      “So,” Theresa’s grandson said then. “Are we all just going to be housemates?”

      Neily turned to face him, recalling again how bad she looked and wishing even more, now that they were alone,