Noticing that Elodie was becoming a bit stir-crazy, he decided it was time to enact his next plan. So, one evening while she was watching a romance movie, he cleaned out one of the spare bedrooms and set up her easel and the meager painting supplies he had brought over from the apartment. The next day, he went out and bought about ten of everything he'd seen she had—different colors of paints, more blank canvases, brushes; everything he and the clerk at the crafts store could think of to outfit a studio for her at home.
The next Monday morning, he prodded her up when he awoke at six thirty, insisting she have breakfast with him before he had to leave and check on the livestock. Grumpily, and still very much asleep, she did, nearly falling face first into her oatmeal. But just before he should have been going to work, he instead helped her up the stairs to the last bedroom on the left—a corner room, with four big windows so she would have all the natural light she could stand.
Clay threw open the door as if he was showing her into a hotel suite or something. Elodie hobbled in and looked around, wide-eyed. "Clay! Oh my God, this is gorgeous! I can't believe it! A studio! Thank you!"
"You're welcome! I'm glad you like it. I wasn't sure exactly what to get, but I got a ton of it."
Elodie was busy picking her way through things. "I can see that."
"I wanted to give you something to do, and you paint so beautifully..."
"Thank you."
"You need something to keep you off the streets now that you're feeling better."
Elodie shook her head. "I need to get a job as soon as I get these awful things off."
Clay intended to disabuse her of that notion, but he wasn't willing to fight that fight quite yet. He reached out and caught her on her way past him, pulling her against him and dropping a fierce, passionate kiss on her mouth that had them both panting. "I want you to promise that you won't tire yourself out."
"I won't."
"Good. I didn't know if you'd want a television in here or not, but if you do, it's a simple matter to run the cable up here."
Elodie shook her head. "Thank you so much, Clay. This is a wonderful gift."
"You're welcome, my love." He checked his watch. "I'd better get going. I promised to meet the foreman about supplies."
She reached up as best she could and hugged him tight. "Have a good day."
"I will. Don't tire yourself out!"
Elodie rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir."
Clay patted her bottom familiarly as he left. "That's more like it."
He left with her heartfelt snort ringing in his ears.
Chapter 17
Elodie wandered down to the mailbox after spending the morning painting. It was a wonderful indulgence, and she felt better than she had in a long time doing it. She sorted through the mail, stacking the envelopes into his and hers piles, until she came upon a bill from the hospital.
Although she really didn't want to open it, she did. Here it was, she thought, the enormous bill she wasn't ever going to be able to begin to pay off. But when she looked at it, it listed everything they had done for her—on about ten pages—but where the total was, it said in big red letters, "paid in full".
How could it possibly have been—
Clay.
Clay had paid her hospital bill. She knew it as surely as she knew his name. At first, she was flooded with a raging anger such as she had never felt before. How dare he? He'd gotten so damned high handed with her, just because they had slept together that one time. She'd been so banged up that even lately, though she'd rapidly been getting better, he hadn't touched her that way. Probably for fear that he'd hurt her.
But he had paid her bill and moved her out of her apartment, proposed to her, and set her up in his house, with a studio and everything, as if she belonged there. Unfortunately, Elodie wasn't so sure she did.
She hoped she did, but her memories of April pervaded this place, and she wasn't sure there was anything either of them could do to change that. And she didn't want to make too much of a fuss, or he was likely to go and sell the ranch or something crazy along those lines, just so she would feel more comfortable.
Yes, Clay would do anything for her. He loved her, and she desperately loved him. So why? Why did she fight the love so much? Was it just because of April, or was she using April as an excuse? Could it be that April was a convenient excuse to protect her, to protect her heart?
Elodie took a deep breath. She was scared. She was scared of being happy. Scared of allowing the pain, the fear, and her misery to go away. It was all she knew. It had been her only companion for so long. But now… happiness stood in the distance, and all she had to do was have the courage to reach for it.
*****
When he got home that night, she was up in his room, in bed. Clay raced upstairs because she wasn't there to greet him once he got in the door, terrified that something had happened. He burst into the room as if the devil himself was after him.
"Elodie! Are you okay? Are you all right? Did you fall?"