Keith Read online

  Keith

  Hathaway House, Book 11

  Dale Mayer

  Books in This Series:

  Aaron, Book 1

  Brock, Book 2

  Cole, Book 3

  Denton, Book 4

  Elliot, Book 5

  Finn, Book 6

  Gregory, Book 7

  Heath, Book 8

  Iain, Book 9

  Jaden, Book 10

  Keith, Book 11

  Lance, Book 12

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  About Lance

  Author’s Note

  Complimentary Download

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  About This Book

  Welcome to Hathaway House. Rehab Center. Safe Haven. Second chance at life and love.

  Keith came to Hathaway House at his sister’s insistence. For he has already given up on regaining the future she keeps telling him that he can find here or, for that matter, any other future worth having. And, besides, don’t they know he’s too weak for the trip and for the treatment and for any of the plans the team has for him? Don’t they know he’s broken beyond repair, and nothing they can do will fix him?

  But apparently they don’t because no one listens to him. Not the doctors. Not his sister. And definitely not the tiny woman who keeps delivering his coffee at 5:00 a.m.

  Ilse, head chef for Hathaway House, rarely ventures out of the kitchen she manages. It’s easier to deal with the groceries and the staff than it is to see the pain and suffering of those she feeds. But something about Keith and his frailty calls to her. She can’t help but go out of her way to ensure he has everything he needs. Even though she knows she cannot keep their relationship on a professional level, once started.

  Even if not in her best interests to do so. Because, in this case, surely Keith’s best interests matter, so much more than her own.

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  Chapter 1

  Keith Carruthers stared out the window. A storm raged outside as Mother Nature battled against the window glass in front of him. He lay in his bed, a bed new to him, in the room that was new to him also. Then again nothing was the same about his life right now. Except there wasn’t a whole lot about it to like.

  He didn’t understand why he was here, except that his sister had made it sound like the perfect answer for him. All he could think about was that he shouldn’t have bothered. It wasn’t really like him to be this way, but this listless lack of spirit, not caring about anything, seemed to be the way of his world right now. He hated that because he had never had room for self-pity in his world before, but sometimes life knocked you down, and every time you got back up, you got knocked down again.

  He knew the old maxim was to just keep getting up until you finally managed, but what should you do when you no longer cared to try? He’d had thirty separate surgeries on the one leg. Six other times they had operated to remove bits of shrapnel from his back, from his butt, and from his thighs.

  He remembered waking up from one surgery and saying, “Doc, just kill me now.”

  The doctor had smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and said, “No way, not at this point. You are a work in progress, and we don’t give up on those.”

  And he groaned and sank back under, and that had been six months ago.

  Now he was here, and, so far, his sister Robin hadn’t been told—or hadn’t shown up at least. But then she worked downstairs in the vet clinic.

  He smiled at that because his sister had always been a crazy animal lover, but then his smile fell away. He knew she worried about the animals in her care in a big way, and she worried about him too. It was hard to throw off depression when it sank into you. It dug in and ate the marrow from his very bones, leaving him with nothing but a lackluster viewpoint on everything around him.

  He wasn’t suicidal, thank God, though he knew that a lot of people around him worried about it. He also hated taking medication for something he shouldn’t have to take medication for.

  He’d always been physically fit, proud of his prowess, of his endurance, and of his strength—until all this happened. It was hardly fair that he got caught by an IED, but, then again, it wasn’t fair that anybody did, and he certainly wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. The only good thing was he’d been alone. Of course that also meant that he had laid out there for a long time until he got help. But, when help came, he got fast and effective medical aid. He was alive but couldn’t count how many times over the last year or so he had wished he hadn’t been. Only wishing it was a long way from doing something serious about it.

  Just then a knock came at his door. He didn’t even bother turning.

  “Not even going to say hi to your sister?” Robin said gaily.

  He lifted a hand and rolled over slightly, shuddering as the pain racked up and down his spine.

  She noticed. She always noticed.

  “Hey, sis,” he said. “Why did you drag me here anyway?”

  “You’ll see,” she said, with a determined cheerfulness.

  But then that was her. She was all about sunshine and roses, doing what she could to help people and animals. He used to be like that, until he’d seen so much of the darkness in life that he wondered if humanity shouldn’t have just been wiped off the planet instead. After all, the people had done very little for the planet Earth. Instead they had stripped it clean and kept busy finding other things we could profit from, like war.

  He smiled as she walked toward him. “You still have that spring in your step, as if every day is a good day,” he said.

  She chuckled. “Every day is a good day,” she said, then bent down gently, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Besides, I brought somebody with me.”

  “Oh, great,” he said, “more happy-go-lucky people. Can’t wait.”

  “Not so much,” a woman said, her smooth, silky voice coming from the doorway.

  He looked around his sister’s arm to see a small woman, leaning against the door, her arms crossed over her chest. She was about five-four, maybe five-three, but her hair was long and loose and fell to her waist and beyond. He looked at her in surprise. “And who are you?”

  “I told you that I brought somebody to meet you,” Robin said. “She’s our chef and works in the kitchen here.”

  He nodded slowly. “Well, that must be a job and a half.”

  She laughed. “I’m Ilse,” she said with a smile. She walked closer and reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Gradually he reached a hand out to her and said, “I’m Keith. Nice to meet you too.”

  She looked to the window at the storm raging outside. “Good thing we have nice warm meals in here.”

  “What’s for dinner?” he asked, although no interest was in his tone because food was not something his body particularly liked anymore.

  “Do you eat?” she asked, turning to study him.

  He flushed slightly, realizing his sister had probably told her something about him.

  “I didn’t tell her anything,” Robin said crossly before he could speak. “You always jump right to thinking I’ve revealed our family secrets or something.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have much appetite,” he said lightly.
>
  Ilse looked at him with a smile and nodded. “I imagine all the medications and surgeries make that a little rough too.”

  “What goes in has to come out,” he said, “and it’s not always the smoothest journey.”

  Her lips quirked. “Isn’t that the truth? So you’re here, and it’s day one for you,” she said. “So have a relaxing day today, and tomorrow is getting to know your team and all. Can I bring you something from the kitchen for dinner?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “I don’t think a chef delivers the food,” he said.

  At that, she gave him a full-blown smile. “Well, nothing about this place is normal, or so I’m told. I deliver food all the time. And Dennis, the guy who thinks he runs the kitchen,” she said with a smirk, “delivers food everywhere—inside, outside, even down to the pastures. He’s always on the go, trying to make people happy.”

  “No wonder Robin likes it here so much.”

  “Absolutely,” Ilse said. She walked to the window and stared out.

  As she turned, he realized her hair was slightly damp, which is probably why she wore it down, leaving it long and flowing so it could dry. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a woman with long hair like hers.

  “We don’t see this weather very often,” she murmured.

  “No,” he said. “I was just thinking it matched my mood.”

  “Nah,” Robin said brightly. “It’s not nearly dark enough.” He turned and glared at her, but she grinned impudently. “That look does not scare me,” she said.

  “Why not?” he asked. “It used to work well enough.”

  “It used to,” she said. “That was a while back. Now? Not so much. Maybe because you use it so often.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  More commotion came at his door, and then somebody else walked in. The two women brightened.

  “Hello, Dani. How you doing?” Robin asked.

  “I’m doing fine,” she said. “Just came to check up on your brother.” Dani turned to look at him. “How are you doing, Keith?”

  “Feeling a little worse for wear and wondering why my room is like Grand Central Station,” he said.

  At that, Dani chuckled. “You’ll get used to it,” she said. “Buck up. People are moving all over the place at this center.”

  “What about patient privacy?”

  Robin protested. “Don’t be so cranky.”

  “I’m always cranky,” he snapped.

  “No, you were always cranky,” she said. “You’re not allowed to be cranky here. Everybody here is full of niceness and humor.”

  “My world is not full of chihuahuas and birthday cake,” he said. “It’s full of rottweilers and death.”

  At that, Robin reached out and grabbed his fingers and clung to him.

  He knew that she understood, but it wasn’t fair to keep punching on her. He groaned. “See? You always made me cranky.”

  She burst out laughing, and a reluctant grin came to his lips.

  “And I can never stay mad at you,” he said with a half sigh. “You’re just too nice.”

  The whole exchange between the two of them was witnessed by the other two women. Dani appeared way too young to be managing a place like this. Not only managing, according to his sister, but had started it in order to save her father. Though Ilse had really caught Keith’s attention.

  As she walked toward the doorway, her long hair bounced off her hips, coming halfway down her buttocks. He couldn’t help but admire how trim and shapely they were too. He called out to her suddenly, “Thanks for coming by. Sorry I’m a bit of a bear today.”

  She looked at him in surprise, and then a gentleness crossed her face. “You’re entitled, you know? Everybody gets to be dark and dangerous for a little while. Only when it goes on for a long time does it get to be too much.” She lifted a hand, saying, “Later,” and walked out. Dani stopped, turned to look at him, and whistled. “Ilse doesn’t come out of her kitchen very often, so obviously you are special.”

  “Nah,” he said, “that’s just my sister. She’s forever dragging people into my world. I think she’s trying to save me or something.”

  “I wonder why that would be such a surprise,” Robin said with a laugh. “There’s only the two of us.”

  “I’m fine, you know?” he said slowly. In fact, they had more in the family, but the rest were half siblings that he didn’t know—along with his father.

  She looked at him, and her smile fell away. “No, honey, you’re not. The doctors can only do so much to fix the outside, and I don’t even know how to begin to fix the inside.” And she squeezed his fingers again.

  “I’m doing what I can do,” he said, “one day at a time.”

  “And you can do that,” she said, “but don’t expect me to walk away. You can get as dark and as deep and as ugly as you want, but I’ll still stand right here at your side. It’s just the two of us, and I’m not letting you go. I’ve come close to losing you too many times, and, now that you’re on the other side of all those surgeries, no way I’ll let you go down that pathway just because we can’t figure out how to heal your heart. Yet.”

  “I’m not suicidal or anything. I’ve told you that,” he said firmly.

  “Good thing,” she said, “or I’ll put you in a padded cell and lock you up for life. You might not like it, but you’d still be alive, and I won’t lose you.” With that, she bent down, kissed him hard on the forehead, and stormed off.

  But he still wasn’t alone.

  Dani studied him with a tiny smile playing at the corner of her lips. “You’ll liven things up around here,” she said smoothly.

  “Well, that’s not usually what somebody says to me,” he said, in surprise.

  “Oh, I’m sure,” she said. “But Robin is a pretty active person around here, and, now that she’s with Iain, she’s even more involved.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him,” he said, “but I’d much rather be on my feet.”

  “Well, you can probably try crutches,” she said, tapping the tablet in her hand. “But that may have to wait until you’ve recovered from your travels and after the team has worked up a full assessment.”

  “The last place did one assessment after another,” he said. “Why does there have to be a new one all over again?”

  She chuckled again. “Don’t be so cranky,” she said. “It’s all good.”

  “It’s all good from your side of life,” he said. “It doesn’t look so good from mine.”

  Ilse Wistbury walked back into her kitchen, feeling the double doors close behind her with a sense of relief. She was so much more comfortable here in the kitchen than out there. She’d rather deal with food problems, cranky cooks, and temperamental equipment any day. Dealing with patients and the general public? Not so much.

  This was her domain, and she was comfortable with every aspect of it. She could handle it alone if she had to, but she’d have to get up pretty early and limit the options a bit. Instead, she had seven full-time staff and another three who came in part-time, plus somebody who managed all her orders.

  Speaking of which, Ricky came racing toward her, crying out, “There’s no lamb. There’s no lamb.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “And?”

  He stopped, took a deep breath, and said, “They shorted us on the lamb.”

  “Well, the lamb wasn’t intended until tomorrow,” she said. “When is the next order coming in?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said, “because they won’t have lamb tomorrow either.”

  “Okay. Then we don’t have lamb,” she said, shrugging.

  “But they did give us extra cream,” he said proudly. “The use-by dates were a little off, so I got them to knock the price in half and to add another four gallons.”

  “Good,” she said with a smile. “Not exactly a replacement for lamb though.”

  “No,” said Gerard, one of her cooks, from the other side of the kitchen island. “However, we
’re making fresh pasta, so why don’t we whip up a walnut and cheese pasta dish with cream sauce?”

  “That might work,” she said, “but we certainly won’t need four gallons for that.”

  “Cream puffs,” one of the other guys called out.

  “Panna cotta,” somebody else suggested.

  “All good ideas,” she said. “Let’s see if we can work them into the menus.” She turned to Gerard. “We probably don’t need very much of the cream for the pasta. You just want to make it,” she teased. “You love making fresh pasta.”

  “Absolutely I do,” he said. “You know fresh pasta is the best anytime, but, if we need to make up for the missing lamb, then let’s make it that one.”

  “Good enough,” she said. “We have three other meats anyway, so we can do without the lamb.”

  “Exactly. I know the budget here is extensive,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a good idea sometimes to have one less meat a day.”

  “I was wondering about that,” she said, “just to see if anybody noticed.”

  “Right,” he said. “We could certainly do it for a few days and see what happens.”

  “I was wondering about doing it every second day or maybe once every three days,” she said, “and putting in a vegetarian dish. Something even with a little protein that is heavy with vegetables.”

  “I like the idea,” Gerard said. He was her number one assistant.

  At that, she reached for the manifest Ricky handed her. She checked every item mentally against what recipes she needed it for with this week’s menu plan and then signed the bottom. “Ricky, I think we’ll need more lemons too,” she said.

  He nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll add it to tomorrow’s order.”

  Acknowledging the response, she turned, just as her phone rang. Pulling it out, she checked her Caller ID, seeing it was one her staff, then answered. “Stefan, how does it look today for you?”

  “It is not good,” he said, his soft voice apologetic. “Mom’s having a bad day.”

  Ilse pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “When can you come in?” she asked, not even believing that she was asking such a question. But Stefan was the only one looking after his mother, who had stage four breast cancer and was homebound. How did you even begin to ask somebody to come in when his life was falling apart like that?