Read Online Chosen Heart by Ann Stewart, Stephanie Nash - Free Book Online

throw myself in front
of her car to ask.”  With raised brows, he momentarily takes his eyes away
from the road to look over at my expression.  “So to satisfy my
curiosity….I followed,” he shrugs, like what he said was a perfectly good
explanation.  It may be the truth, but unfortunately for me, he isn’t
giving much away.
    “Okay, so that explains how you
got there, but doesn’t explain why you stayed.”
    He doesn’t get a chance to
answer, because just as we pull onto Charleston Blvd, he reaches into the
breast pocket of his jacket to answer his phone.  It must have been on
vibrate.  “Yes?  What’s wrong?  Did she take her
medication?  Ok….yes….I’m ten minutes away.  I’ll be right
there.”  His brows furrow, his forearms tensing as he grips the steering
wheel.
    “We need to make a detour.” 
Taking a left onto Town Center, he heads in the opposite direction even before
I can object.  His tone seems short, even frantic maybe.  I just hope
everything’s okay.
    ~~~~~
    The driveway is lined with
perfectly groomed bushes, trees, and lights that sprinkle the shrubbery, making
the house look magnificent.  Parking to the left, he rushes out of the car
and within seconds is opening my door.  Taking my hand in his, I feel the
momentum from his muscles as he lifts me from the seat.  Flushed against
him, my eyes are fixed on his collarbone; still unable to meet his gaze. 
Thankfully, he never releases his grip, giving me the connection I crave as he
ushers me towards the house.
    Stopping at the front door, Alex
turns, “It’s because you’re…different.”  My heart stops.  Is he
finally answering my question?
    Before I can even speak Alex
pulls me through an entry way to a place that can hardly be called a home; more
like a work of art.  “Where are we?” I ask, glancing around.  He
doesn’t answer.  Passing by exquisite abstract paintings in burgundy, plum
and cream, with delicate pottery framing the walls, the elegance of this home
is truly understated.
    Walking through the foyer I’m
startled by a woman’s voice yelling in the distance.  Because the sound
ricochet’s through the spacious rooms, it’s hard to tell where it’s coming from
and I can only follow his lead.
    “No, I don’t want to take them!”
her voice trembles with fear.
    “Please, Mrs. James.  You
have to take your medicine,” begs another voice, echoing in the distance.
    Pulled towards the yelling, we
pass by a stark white sitting room with even more burgundy paintings and I’m
immediately mesmerized by the vastness of this place.  As confused as I
am, I’m in awe.
    “Nana?” he calls into the
distance.
    A woman’s voice replies, “We’re
in here, Mr. James.”
    As we enter the large room, which
I assume are the guest quarters, there is an elderly woman sitting in a
recliner that looks to be just as old as she is, tattered in all the right
places.  Not trying to compete with the rest of the home, the furnishings
match the woman sitting before me.  Aged and definitely lived in. 
With her arms crossed and a frown on her face, she reminds me of a disobedient
child.  Another woman, who appears to be in her early forties, hovers next
to her in a protective stance.
    “Thank you for coming home, Mr.
James.  She’s having one of those nights.  She just won’t take her
medicine.”  Looking at the elderly woman, she playfully shakes her head,
“Will you, Miss Molly?”
    Releasing my hand, he travels to
kneel next to the recliner.  “Nana, look at me,” he demands.  She
lowers her head leisurely to meet his gaze.  “You need to take your
medicine.”  She continues to stare at him without acknowledging his
request.  “Nana, you need to cooperate!  Can you do that for
me?”  Urgency fills each word as he searches her face for a sign.
    Watching him with her is
sweet.  He’s very assertive, yet incredibly gentle.  I know I’m
prying, but I can’t turn away.  Past the frailness