Courting His Favourite Nurse
Lynne Marshall
Ann Grady knew better than anyone that love was complicated.When she’d left her home town, she thought she was leaving her past heartbreak behind for good as well.But practically the moment she returned to care for her injured parents, she stumbled headlong into their confidant – her first love, Jack Lightfoot. And Jack’s determined to get reacquainted.
I saw you first, Jack. You were supposed to be mine.
He exhaled, broke free, leaned his forehead to hers and whispered, “It’s been a long time coming.”
She sighed, secretly thrilled he’d missed kissing her. “It was definitely worth the wait.”
“I don’t know about the wait, but it was pretty damn spectacular on my end,” he said, grinning.
She made a breathy laugh, still floating from his kiss.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Whispering Oaks, a small, tight-knit community in a rural section of Southern California, and the home of the Grady family. Anne is the oldest sibling, who left home shortly after high school to pursue her RN degree and to start a new life far away from the memories that haunted her. A tragic accident brings her home to care for her parents and opens a Pandora’s box of emotions.
In Courting His Favourite Nurse, Jack Lightfoot has never forgotten his runaway friend, and upon her return, hopes to set the record straight.
Sometimes life throws us more than we can handle, and when Anne and Jack found themselves losing a close friend to illness in high school, neither handled it well. Thirteen years later, they get a second chance to resume their old friendship, but Anne still wants to run away, and this time, Jack is determined not to let her.
I don’t know about you, but I love reunion stories. Won’t you join me in Whispering Oaks to see how this one turns out?
I’m thrilled about my debut Cherish™, and would love to hear what you think. You can contact me at my website, www.lynnemarshall.com, or by mail at PO Box 51, Simi Valley, CA 93062, USA.
Best regards,
Lynne Marshall
About the Author
LYNNE MARSHALL used to worry she had a serious problem with daydreaming, then she discovered she was supposed to write those stories! A late bloomer, Lynne came to fiction writing after her children were nearly grown. Now she battles the empty nest by writing stories which always include a romance, sometimes medicine, a dose of mirth, or both, but always stories from her heart. She is a Southern California native, a dog lover, a cat admirer, a power walker, and avid reader.
Courting His
Favourite Nurse
Lynne Marshall
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Special thanks to Jo for getting my feet in the door, to Gail for giving me a chance, and to Sarah for helping me make this book all it could be.
Chapter One
“I’m glad you’re here, Annie belle,” Kieran Grady still sounded groggy from yesterday’s surgery. He seemed too big for the hospital bed with his long legs nearly hanging over the end of the frame, the left with a hip-to-foot cast elevated on three pillows.
“I’m glad I’m here, too, Dad.” Anne patted her father’s hand, making sure his IV was in place and infusing well. An RN for eight years, she couldn’t help herself.
“Take care of your mom until I get home,” he said, drifting closer to sleep.
“Of course I will,” she whispered. Good thing she could get the time off from her new job until Lucas got officially discharged from the army.
Anne’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at the screen. “That’s the E.R., Dad. Mom must be ready to go home.”
With eyes closed, he nodded.
There was also a text message from Lark: How are Mom and Dad doing? Give them kisses from me. Wish I could be there, but school is crazy! Love you guys. :) No way would anyone expect her sister to leave medical school midsemester when Anne and her brother Lucas could be there for their parents. She texted back: They’re fine. I’ll call you later.
She bent to kiss her dad’s forehead avoiding the scratches and one nasty-looking laceration near his receding hairline. “This one is from me, and this is from Lark.”
He smiled then grimaced. “I swear,” he mumbled. “I never saw that car coming.”
Considering her parents had been on a motorcycle, things could have been a whole lot worse. As an RN she’d seen plenty of motorcycle accident fallouts first-hand, and she didn’t approve of his “hobby” but there was no way her father would give up his Harley. And up until now, Mom was as gung ho about their Sunday rides on the open roads as he was. Anne had a hunch Mom might be singing another tune from now on.
Anne said goodbye to her father and his nurse, making sure the RN had her cell number as well as her family’s home phone, then headed toward the elevator leaving the plaster and disinfectant scent of the orthopedic ward behind.
She’d arrived in California early the next morning from Portland, Oregon, but had still missed their surgeries. She’d found the first available flight out the moment she’d been contacted by the E.R. nurse Sunday night. Adrenaline had burst from the center of her chest and tingled out to her fingers and toes at the news. They could have been killed. Oh, God, she couldn’t bear to think about the pillars in her life falling … and thankfully, their injuries would heal. Not soon enough for Dad, she thought, smiling and shaking her head as the elevator descended down to the first floor.
After arriving in Whispering Oaks in time for her mother’s hospital discharge that morning, she’d taken her home. By midafternoon, when Mom said the pain was excruciating, she’d realized her mother’s full arm cast had pressed on a nerve and she was losing sensitivity in her fingers. Anne had turned right around and brought her back to the E.R. to have it removed and a new cast applied before there was a chance for nerve damage.
The small Whispering Oaks hospital overflowed with patients, and they’d spent the better part of the evening waiting. When the orderly wheeled off her mother to the cast room, she’d gone to visit her father in the ortho ward.
Anne got off the elevator as an ambulance siren blared in the distance. She approached the emergency reception desk noting that every chair in the waiting room was filled. A TV monitor droned on with some reality show that only a few people, besides the desk clerk, paid attention to.
“My mother’s ready for discharge,” she said. “Beverly Grady?”
The distracted receptionist tore away her gaze from the TV long enough to check her list then, without saying a word or offering a smile, she reached under the desk and pressed a buzzer which opened the door to the department.
Anne rushed to her mother’s E.R. cubicle.
“How’s your father?” Beverly blurted out the moment Anne entered. With a twisted waistband on her teal workout pants, and one sleeve of the jacket hanging over her shoulder, her mother looked out of character from her usual jeans and trendy jerseys approach to style. But Mom wouldn’t let Anne bring her to the hospital without makeup and her earrings, the large gold hoops now tangled in her shoulder-length hair, her bright lipstick half chewed off.
“He’s doing well, Ma. The nurses say he’ll be home in a few days.”
“Great news. Why did it have to be my right arm? I’m useless with my left hand. How am I going to take care of him or do my hair or put on makeup?” She shook her head, her layered, bottle brown hair bobbed along. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hook a bra with one hand?”
“That’s why I’m here, remember?” Anne stifled her smile.
Beverly pursed her lips, brows raised, looking impish. “See the extreme some parents will go to just to get their daughter home?”
Anne shook her head and smiled. “An invitation would have been fine.”
Beverly swiped the air with her one good arm. “You always have excuses.” Her mother laughed wryly, and Anne joined her, avoiding thoughts better left unspoken once again.
“But you and Dad liked visiting Portland.” Other than one Christmas three years ago, Anne hadn’t returned to Whispering Oaks since she’d gone off to college to get her nursing degree. And that Christmas visit had been mainly because Lucas had gotten a leave for the holidays. It wasn’t because she didn’t love her parents, no; she loved them with all her heart. It was the guilt and bad memories that seemed to overshadow everything else about her hometown whenever she ventured back.
“But this is your home, Annie.”
Truth was, Portland felt more like home these days, she just didn’t have the nerve to tell her mother that.
A shrill siren grew closer, soon coming to an abrupt halt outside the rear of the emergency department.
A frazzled looking nurse appeared at their cubicle with dark smudges beneath her eyes, some form of updo gone askew and a wheelchair. “Ready to go?”
Doors flew open at the back of the E.R. and a group of firemen wheeled in a couple people on gurneys. The nurse shot a quick glance over her shoulder, then pushed the wheelchair inside, back to business as usual. Out of reflex from her old E.R. days Anne tensed, but reminded herself she was a clinic nurse now, and that today she was on the patient side of the hospital equation. It felt so different, and yet her curiosity about the latest intake wouldn’t back down.
Anne took a quick look at her mother’s fingers, pressed the nail beds to make sure the capillaries blanched and pinked right back up. “Can you move your fingers?” she asked over the ruckus.
“Annie, this feels a hundred times better than the last cast.”
“Okay then, we’re ready to go.” Anne gave an assuring smile to the nurse.
She helped her mother into the chair and, after signing the discharge papers, began to roll her toward the exit.
“Keep that cast elevated,” the nurse said as she rushed off toward the new patients on the gurneys. So much for patient discharge education.
Across the department a male figure caught Anne’s eye. He stood, legs planted in a wide stance, arms folded, just apart from the health care workers and firemen team huddle.
“There’s my hero,” her mother called out. Then to Anne she said, “Jack was the first on scene Sunday at the accident.”
Jack? As in Jackson Lightfoot?
In a whiplash response, Anne turned toward the man just as he noticed her. A thousand crazy thoughts barged into her head as she peered at an apparition. What in the world was he doing here? She blinked as the ghost of heartbreak past came into full view.
Except he looked so much better than that high school jock she’d remembered. As if that were possible. He wore the standard fireman navy blue T-shirt and slacks—without the yellow rubber pants and suspenders—shiny work boots and a serious expression. His blond hair was shorter and darker, and all traces of boyish features were gone. It’d been twelve years, and he still set off a spark in her chest—a feeling so foreign, it felt more like anxiety.
“Mrs. Grady, what are you doing back here?” he said to her mother, though his gaze had found and stuck to Anne.
“Annie said I needed a new cast.” She attempted to lift the heavy, hot pink, fiberglass-covered arm.
Anne wished she could disappear behind the nearest cubicle curtain, but Jack stared at her and offered a tentative smile, the kind that only lifted half of his mouth.
“Anne.”
She nodded, fighting off the rush of feelings blindsiding her. Nerves zinged, blood rushed to her face and her legs, perfectly stable and strong a moment before, felt unsteady. She was thirty but had taken the fast track back to high school insecurity. “Hey, Jack. Hi.” At a loss for what to do or say, and trying desperately to act composed, she went for inane. “Are you a fireman?”
“I volunteer a couple times a week.”
His chest had broadened and bulked up since she’d last seen him, and his voice had dropped half a scale. He’d definitely turned into the man that swaggering eighteen-year-old had hinted at.
He bent and hugged her mother. “How’s the old man doing?”
“Fine, thanks to you and your quick thinking. The doctor told Annie, he’ll be home in a couple days, come and see him.”
“I will.” Jack glanced back at Anne, and before she could prepare herself, he hugged her. Granted it was nothing more than one of those awkward pat-the-back deals, but it still rattled her. Even though she’d stiffened up, warm fuzzies hopped along her skin and she wanted to swat at them and yell, stop it, stop it!
Well what do you know, he still uses Irish Spring.
She leaned back and noticed a lingering fluster in his eyes that she assumed mirrored her own, and a warm, welcoming expression on his face. Man, he still had a great smile, except now it had parentheses around it, and his eyes, those fern green eyes she could never forget, had the beginning of fan lines at the corners making him all the more enticing.
No. Stop it right now. We already know how this story plays out, and it has a sucky ending.
“Well, looks like they need some help. It’s good to see you, Anne. Beverly, you take care of yourself. I’ll visit Kieran tomorrow after school.”
“He’ll be glad to see you,” Beverly said.
And he was off to assist the other firemen with the patient transfers from their gurneys to E.R. beds.
She knew he was a teacher at Whispering Oaks, but when had he gotten so chummy with her parents?
Bursts of memories hijacked Anne’s thoughts as she rolled her mother to the car. How after Jack had been her friend first, she’d introduced him to her best friend and lost him. Soon being relegated to the third-wheel buddy role, she’d been forced to watch their budding romance bloom and keep her feelings to herself. And later, how the three of them had gone through the toughest time of their lives together. How he’d become her secret hero, the one she had loved with all her heart … but could never have … unless she betrayed her best friend. The details tangled in a knot between her brows.
“Jack teaches with your father at the high school, you know,” Beverly said, while transferring from wheelchair to car. “English and basic mathematics.”
“Yes, you have mentioned that a time or two, Mom.” How many times had he counted down the days until he’d graduate high school? Now, apparently, he went back on a daily basis.
Beverly went quiet, and Anne understood why. Though Anne had never discussed her heartache with her mother, it would have been impossible for Beverly not to sense the pain back then. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had caused it. She closed the car door and pushed the wheelchair to a collection center then got into the driver’s seat.
Shortly after Anne had left Whispering Oaks behind, Jack had, too. Occasionally he’d send a postcard from somewhere around the world, a weak attempt at staying in touch. If he’d felt the way he’d sworn he did—you’re the one, Anne—why hadn’t he ever come after her? Eventually, the cards quit coming altogether.
How many times would she drive herself crazy trying to figure it all out? She started the engine, eager to get away from the hospital with the huge yellow fire rescue vehicle parked in front.
Jackson Lightfoot had been the reason she’d left home, and was the last person on earth she wanted to see now that she was back.
The next afternoon at school, dubbed Sleepless Wednesdays by his students thanks to his Tuesday night volunteer status, Jack nodded off. His chin rebounded off his chest and snapped his head against the chair. The students’ tittering dashed any hope that no one had noticed.
“Okay, anyone ready to read their essay out loud?”
That brought the sudden and needed silence he’d hoped for. Maybe he should have refilled his Best Teacher in the World mug with more coffee after lunch.
As everyone went back to work, he tapped the eraser end of a pencil on his desk and thought about Anne. He couldn’t help himself. Heck, a toddler could have pushed him over using a pinky finger when he’d first seen her last night.
She’d challenged him to be better from the very first time she’d met him, and in the E.R., he could still see the summons there in her eyes. Those brown eyes the exact shade of her shoulder-length hair. He was glad she hadn’t fiddled with the color like so many women did these days. He’d always liked the natural sheen and what he could only describe as the nutmeg color. She’d matured … in a good way. In high school she’d been a little too bony for his type. Now she’d added a few pounds and had smoothed out all the angles.
He laughed inwardly. Her bod wasn’t what had always attracted him to her. It was her straightforward approach. Her honesty. He scrubbed his face and remembered the day she’d first spoken to him at track practice in eleventh grade.
“You’re full of it, Lightfoot,” she’d said. “You’ve been letting everyone think you’re part Native American, but you’re name’s either English or German. I looked it up.”
No girl had ever challenged him before. He’d swaggered up to her and glared right into her face. From her unwavering stare, he knew she’d seen through his bravado.
Though Lightfoot made a great name for Whispering Oaks’ top league hurdler, and having people think he had Native American ancestors made it even cooler, he was as white bread as they came, and she’d called him out on the prevarication.
“I’ll pay you ten bucks to keep that to yourself.”
“I don’t take bribes, but I’m good with secrets.”
Boy was she ever good with secrets. A week to the day before Brianna, his girlfriend and Anne’s best friend, had been diagnosed with leukemia, he’d let slip a huge secret to Anne—how he felt about her. And to make matters worse, he’d kissed her. They’d been horsing around after watching a Star Trek DVD one Saturday night at her house. Bri hadn’t been feeling well and he’d taken her home early. Looking back he should have realized Bri hadn’t been feeling well for a few weeks, but he’d been oblivious, even looked forward to spending some time alone with Anne. What a jerk he’d been.
After the movie, imitating Captain Kirk and Spock, he’d placed splayed fingers on Anne’s face and asked, “May I join your mind?” Good sport, as always, she had giggled but let him and he’d sworn she’d communicated one thing through those soft doe eyes—kiss me.
So he did. Jack pressed his mouth to Anne’s in a tender first-kiss fashion. Her lips were soft and moist, just as he’d expected. She didn’t pull back, but she went still. He shouldn’t push things, what about Bri? Ignoring that thought, he kept kissing Anne, eager to explore more, though taking things slow, he felt her shoulders relax.
Anne’s hands pressed against his chest, a signal to stop, but not before she kissed him back. Jack broke it off searching her eyes for a clue, and saw a mix of shock and held-back longing.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said, with a breathy whisper, her nostrils flaring faintly.
“I’m sorry.” Was he really sorry he’d shared the sweetest kiss since junior high with Anne? He was positive there was something between them just waiting to be unlocked. He knew she felt it, too.
“She’s my best friend.” Her hand flew to her mouth, as if to erase the kiss.
He stared at the floor. “You probably don’t think much of me as a boyfriend.”
“Right now, I don’t know what to think.” “I better leave,” he said, refusing to regret what they’d done. He’d shaken her up, felt the pull between them. It wasn’t his imagination.
Their kiss had been loaded with potential—he couldn’t get it out of his mind all weekend and, on Monday he’d seized the moment.
Jack spotted Anne between classes, heading for the science building. He swept in before she noticed him, grabbed her wrist and tugged her behind the ancient oak tree in the center of the campus. He’d thought about doing this all weekend, no matter how rotten an idea it was. He needed to kiss her again.
Like a man possessed, he leaned her against the gnarly bark, hands on her shoulders, and kissed her full-out. Firm and deep, he explored the lips he’d thought about for two days. She dropped her books, and once again she matched him kiss for kiss.
Once he’d planted the kiss he’d dreamed about, and only because he heard some howls and comments from other students, he let up.
He would have been damned proud of that kiss, seeing her dazed and breathless, pupils dilated, eyes wide, but confusion distracted him. Shame edged its way in. How was he supposed to handle this? Damned if he’d apologize for doing what he’d wanted for months, he said something he shouldn’t have and walked away.
A week later Brianna’s mysterious illness got a diagnosis and it turned their world upside down. Nothing else seemed to matter. Anne had never mentioned their kisses again. Under the circumstances he sure as hell wasn’t about to bring them up, and their easygoing friendship had never been restored.
Honor mixed with guilt and disappointment could make a guy do crazy things, like after Bri died, he took off in the opposite direction for Europe instead of heading to Oregon to where Anne was. And life had a way of throwing those mistakes in your face. He’d lost his good buddy Anne, the girl with all the possibilities, and he hadn’t come close to falling in love with anyone since.
There were a million things he’d like to talk to Anne about, but he didn’t have a clue how or where to start. He knew he owed her an apology for the crazy mixed messages he’d given her, and for that bomb he’d dropped just before Bri had died. And if her reaction to seeing him was any indication, he wasn’t sure she was the least bit interested in seeing him again.
Jack grimaced and noticed a couple students with raised eyebrows watching him deep in his battling thoughts. He homed in on the ringleader—a girl whom he suspected had a crush on him.
“Amy, are you ready to read your essay?” He used his benevolent teacher voice, the kind that usually got good results. She shook her head with hummingbird speed.
All curious gazes went back to the desks.
After he visited Kieran Grady that afternoon in the hospital, maybe he’d pay a visit to Beverly … and Anne.
“Lucas, we understand. You’ll get home as soon as you can. What’s a few more days?” Anne said, sitting at her mother’s bedside mindlessly running her toes over the dog’s bristly brown coat. Lucas was undergoing some army discharge testing in Washington, D.C., and kept extending his ETA. “Dad’s doing as well as can be expected considering how banged up he is. I talked to him yesterday and I’ll go see him tomorrow. Mom’s doing fine, too. She’s resting right now. You want to talk to her?”
Beverly lay sprawled on her bed, pink-casted arm elevated above her heart on pillows, and with Bart, her rescued Rhodesian Ridgeback who was too big for the bed, laying dutifully on the rug. With the body of a boxer on steroids and a face more in line with a lab, he was one good-looking doggie, and the newest family addition since their official empty nest.
“I don’t want to wake her,” Lucas said.
He’d been evasive whenever the topic of conversation turned to how he was doing. The last few times they’d spoken, Anne had gotten the impression he wasn’t being completely honest about something. “She’s not really asleep. Here she is,” Anne said, gently pressing her mother’s shoulder.
“Anne!”
She smiled at the sound so clear in her mind. Lucas’s tone had transported her back in time.
“It’s Lucas.” She handed the phone to her sleepy mother, whose face brightened at the sound of her son’s name.
Also leaving home right after high school, her brother had completed nine years in the army and, resisting the constant carrot they dangled to keep the medics re-upping, he would finally be discharged in a couple weeks. Thank heavens. Lucas had seen more desert and suffering than he’d ever dreamed, and now would come home to yet another mess—Mom and Dad fresh out of a motorcycle-versus-car accident and both in casts. Comparatively speaking, it should be a walk in the park.
A light tapping pulled Anne out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen door. And out of pure nosiness Bart’s paws clacked down the hall behind her. When she opened it, someone stood behind a huge, colorful bouquet.
“Mrs. G., how are you?” Anne recognized the squeaky voice and grinned. Jocelyn Howard peeked around the corner and beamed from the other side of the flowers. “Annie, when did you get home?”
“Monday.” They gave an ardent but awkward hug with the huge vase between them, as a warm homey feeling crept over Anne. When she’d left Whispering Oaks, she’d never wanted to come back, but she’d forgotten all the wonderful people who still lived here. How often did she get greeted in Portland with such genuine enthusiasm? “Come on, mom’s down in her room.”
Holding the vase and flowers didn’t prevent Jocelyn from greeting Bart, and he made a happy humming sound from the attention.
Jocelyn had lived next door to the Gradys her entire life and felt like an honorary member of the family. She’d been like a little sister to Anne before Lark had been born, had been Lucas’s first play pal until he’d started kindergarten and left her behind for boys.
They reached the bedroom just as Beverly hung up the phone.
Taller than average, Jocelyn, with her long legs and slim runner’s body, leaned over the bed and kissed Anne’s mother. Her straight, light brown hair veiled her pointy profile. “Oh, Mrs. Grady, I’m so sorry to hear about your accident. Anything you need, you just let me know.”
“You are such a dear.” Beverly kissed her and patted her arm. “Oh, look at those gorgeous flowers!”
“They’re from my mom’s rose garden.” Jocelyn set them on the bedside table next to the window. The waning March sun barely reached the peach and cranberry colored petals, but their potent scent invaded Anne’s nostrils in a burst. They reminded her of her new home, Portland, The City of Roses, and she wondered how the medical clinic was doing without her.
“I’m serious. I’m right next door. If you need an extra pair of hands or some caregiver time off—” She glanced over her shoulder toward Anne. “—I’m glad to help.” She poured some water for Beverly, then sat on the edge of her bed and chatted with her. Bart, though wary of the cast, sat at attention and looked on as if he understood every word.
“How’s Mr. Grady doing?”
“He’s grousing about this accident happening during track season.” Anne leaned forward, rubbing Bart’s long nose. “You miss your big guy, don’t you,” she cooed through puckered lips, gazing into earnest brown eyes. He offered his paw. She shook it.
“I don’t blame him. We’ve got a shot at league finals this year.” Jocelyn turned to Anne. “Did you know that I’m his assistant coach?”
“You’re kidding, since when?” Anne felt out of the loop, with a tinge of hurt. When had her parents quit trying to keep her up on the comings and goings of her hometown? Maybe around the same time she’d stopped showing the least bit of interest?
“Since I transferred from Imperial to Whispering Oaks last year.” So Jocelyn had moved back to her alma mater from their crosstown rival school.
“Well, Dad always expected great things from you on that track field. You made up for the poor excuse for athletes Lark and I were.”
Jocelyn tilted her head and toed the braided rug on the hardwood floor. “You guys weren’t as bad as you think, and Lucas was fast.”
“Oh, yeah, he was always good at running away from things.” Her sisterly dig fell flat. She’d forgotten how Jocelyn had always idolized Lucas, and suspected if he’d paid more attention to her, she would have fallen for him. Probably had anyway. And Anne knew there was nothing worse than unrequited love. Maybe she and Jocelyn had more in common than she realized.
“I was just talking to Lucas,” Beverly said.
Jocelyn’s lively hazel eyes brightened. “Oh, how’s he doing?”
As they chatted on, Anne tossed around a reason to leave the room. Didn’t she need to call and update Lark? And maybe she should call work to see how her replacement was doing. There were so many little things she’d forgotten to leave notes about. But the doorbell distracted her, and Bart went on immediate sentry duty. She glanced at her watch and took off down the hall, dog at her heels, prepared to tell whichever solicitor it was, she wasn’t interested!
She opened the door with the words “no thank you” on the tip of her tongue. Her mouth dropped along with her stomach at the sight of Jack standing on her doorstep.
Chapter Two
The hair rose on Anne’s arms as she stared at Jack who was holding two plastic bags with take-out containers inside. He smiled that straight, white, signature smile. Bart barked once, and pranced excitedly around in a circle as if they were old friends. Traitor.
“I have it on good authority that your mother likes her buffalo wings hot.” He raised one of the bags.
“Just like her men,” Anne repeated her father’s favorite line and rolled her eyes. Obviously, Dad wanted to make sure his main squeeze got her favorite meal and Jack was merely a conduit.
Jack grinned and nodded as if he’d been schooled by the master. “Just like her men,” he repeated. “Oh, and coleslaw without mayo, which was a little harder to find.” He raised the other bag.
“Skinny slaw,” she said, at a loss for anything else to say. Her father’s sweet gesture made Anne smile even though it had put her in a most uncomfortable position. Should she take the food and close the door? Even by her dodge-the-past-at-all-costs standards, that would be cold.
“May I come in?”
How could she refuse? Anne hated to cook, knew that inevitably Beverly would get hungry, yet hadn’t planned or stocked up for a single meal, and something in one of those bags smelled fresh and heavenly.
“Of course,” she said, breaking the awkward pause. “Come in.” How was she supposed to play this? As if he hadn’t broken her heart or helped her betray her best friend? Or as if he was once a great friend whom she’d adored, and had laughed and cried with more than any other person on earth … but who’d drifted away? Still undecided, she scratched her forehead and put on her best hostess face.
She showed Jack to the kitchen where he unloaded the bags on the counter and immediately paid his respects to Bart, who sniffed his hands excited by the scent of chicken. Jack glanced around the room as if recalling being here a thousand times long ago. “Did they remodel?”
Anne nodded. Since she’d moved out, her mother had added French Country flair to their sturdy ranch-style home. They’d knocked down a wall and opened up the flow of the kitchen into the family room. Now they had a block wood island, and trendy glass-fronted white cupboards with granite countertops, and shelves with canisters and spices lining the walls. Plus a state-of-the-art gas stove with a gazillion burners for Beverly’s love of cooking, and a two-foot-long tilted rack for all of her international cookbooks. Trying her best to avoid facing Jack, she spotted the perfect place to put Jocelyn’s flowers on the antique wood sideboard, deciding to do it later.
“I’ll go get my mom,” she said, turning, but her mother and Jocelyn were coming to them.
“I could smell the food all the way down the hall. Jack, you shouldn’t have,” Beverly said, smoothing the pillow’s impact on her hair. “But I’m really glad you did.”
He wiped his hands on his khaki slacks and shook hers as if he hadn’t seen her in months. “I couldn’t let the big guy down.” He winked at her mother. “He was worried Anne wouldn’t fix you dinner or, worse, that she would.”
A mischievous glint graced his eyes, and if Anne weren’t so busy feeling conspired against, and a bit like an outsider, she might have laughed along with everyone else.
“Har har. Hey, I may be a lousy cook, but I’d never let my mommy go hungry. I remember how to dial for takeout. Was just thinking about doing it, too.”
She opened a cupboard and got down some dishes. Beverly insisted on setting the utensils on the table with her one good hand, making several extra trips in the process, Bart dogging her every step. Jocelyn took drink orders and Jack, well, he stood there looking gorgeous with his late afternoon stubble and super-starched pale blue pin-striped shirt that hadn’t a hint of a wrinkle.
He must have felt her studying gaze when he used his thumb to scratch his upper lip and glanced at the floor.
How was she going to share a meal with him and act casual? If he subscribed to the popular fallacy that time healed all wounds, she had some news for him. She sighed, then took her place at the table, deciding to beat everyone to the fresh-from-the-oven garlic rolls.
“Why do you volunteer with the fire department?” Anne had acted more like a journalist than an old friend throughout dinner. In between her barrage of questions, all neatly superficial, Jack had noticed she only picked at her food.
“California’s broke. Whispering Oaks depends on volunteers to make up for the shortage of firemen, and I guess it’s my way of giving back.”
Anne didn’t need clarification on what he was giving back for. How many times had Brianna been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance? The fire department had been first on scene the day she had collapsed at school, and at their prom …
“Sort of like the same reason you became a nurse,” her mother said.
“Brianna,” Anne said.
Okay, so she’d go first at naming the elephant in the room.
“Brianna,” he repeated just before taking a large swallow of his iced tea.
Her gaze met and held his for the briefest of moments, just long enough to confuse him and make him wish he could read her mind.
Seeing Anne’s eyes dance away each time he’d tried to engage them, gave him a clue that it wouldn’t be easy to convince her to spend some time with him. Just the two of them. He definitely needed to deliver that apology.
As dinner wound down, Jack decided to go for it, to take the sneaky route and make his move in front of an audience. If he hadn’t already committed to meeting the latest in a long string of computer-arranged compatible-dates.com, and if he hadn’t cancelled on this particular lady before, he would ask Anne out for coffee tomorrow night. Now, he needed to come up with something else, and fast.
“Anne, you feel like going for a hike to Boulder Peak for old time’s sake this Saturday morning?” he said, knowing it had once been one of their favorite places to hang out.
She blinked a half dozen times and wiped her mouth before answering. “Oh, that sounds great, but I can’t. I’m taking Mom to get her hair and nails done. Right?” His spin ball got deflected with the precision of Venus Williams.
“We can do it another day,” Beverly said, a sheepish look in her eyes as she took a dainty bite of wing.
“But you want to look nice when Dad comes home. You told me yourself.”
“I can take her,” Jocelyn piped in.
The expression on Anne’s face could be described as mortified, but Jack decided not to focus on the negative. She could protest all she wanted, but apparently the team was on his side.
He smiled. “Then I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Friday evening, Anne propped up her mother’s arm, made sure everything she could want was within reach, and armed with her mother’s long grocery list, she set out to do some shopping. Bart sat in the family room attentively at Beverly’s side watching over her.
On the drive home odd tidbits from life elbowed their way into Anne’s mind. She drove down familiar streets, each with a memory attached, and having spent so much time with her mother and spoken to both her brother and sister yesterday, everything seemed to invite reflection.
She hadn’t minded getting knocked off the pedestal when Lucas had come along. She enjoyed having a brother … at first. Mom kept calling her the “big girl,” even though she wasn’t sure she liked the new title or what it meant. As Lucas got older, she discovered she could make him laugh, and Mom was happy about that, so she did it a lot. He was a good laugher back then. Now? Not so much.
Though they hadn’t seen each other in three years, they occasionally spoke on the phone and emailed back and forth on a regular basis. Lately, Lucas’s take on life seemed so cynical, and it worried her. She missed her brother and couldn’t wait to see him. Besides, the sooner he got home, the sooner she could go back to Portland and her new job.
She cruised past her old grammar school and its single-story 1950s blah architecture, the place where her mother still taught fourth grade. A thousand more memories crowded her head. How many times had she defended Lucas when he’d gotten into trouble there? Early on they’d teamed up and stayed united when it was apparent Lark could do no wrong. Maybe he could use someone in his corner these days too, and she shouldn’t rush off right after he got here.
Coming home put a bittersweet taste in her mouth with so many landmarks holding memories. She drove past the park where she used to play and thought how when Lark came along she’d been five and it felt as if Mom had sent her to school just so she could be alone with her little brother and baby sister.
When Lark was a baby, she had fluffy white hair, and she didn’t have to say one word to get Mom and Dad to smile, all she had to do was be there. Anne learned if she read her books out loud, Dad would clap his hands, so she read everything she could find aloud, and knew early on the importance of being a high achiever.
So why was Lark the one in med school?
She huffed a breath and glanced toward the sky. Let it go, Anne. You’re thirty and you’re an adult. If you want to go to medical school, you can apply. Truth was, she liked being a nurse, and back when she’d taken the MCATs and had scored well, her parents simply didn’t have the money or the desire to take out humongous loans. She couldn’t blame them. When Lark was ready to apply to college, they owned their home and Dad’s Great Aunt Tessa had left him a windfall in her will. If there was one thing Anne had learned, it was that life wasn’t fair and timing ruled the day and it was a futile task to try to figure out why anything worked the way it did.
What more proof did she need than her best friend dying shortly after her eighteenth birthday, just before graduating?
She drove past the Whispering Oaks Gymnastics Center, which used to be nothing more than a huge garage with mats, and remembered her mother waiting for her during class. It occurred to her that when her mother was her age, she had already had three kids. Not that Anne wanted three kids, but the possibility of a boyfriend at thirty would be nice. Her dating history had been anything but a success, with the last real relationship ending over a year ago. Somewhere along the line she’d figured her miserable excuse for a love life was likely because somewhere deep inside she still carried a torch for Jack.
Must all thoughts lead back to Jack?
The streets seemed more crowded than when she’d left, and there were strip malls on far too many corners. There seemed to be fewer trees, too. At least the surrounding hills hadn’t changed. She’d missed them. In the distance she could see Boulder Peak jutting its rocky nose above the hilltop, and immediately tried to divert her thoughts away from the invitation to hike there. With Jack. Jack. Again, thoughts about Jack.
What would it be like to spend time with him? She’d much prefer to dodge the whole thing, but everyone had plotted against her and she’d had no way out. Maybe she could sprain her ankle between now and tomorrow morning?
And speaking of Jack, wasn’t that him heading into TGI Fridays with a pert redhead by his side?
She slowed down as she drove past one of the three main restaurants in town feeling like a stalking teenager. Her heart raced as she looked closer. At least he wasn’t holding the woman’s hand. So what was the deal about asking her to go hiking?
Time marches on and she’d been gone for a while now, so she couldn’t exactly hold a grudge if Jack had a girlfriend. She groaned over getting swept up in the crappy moment. Why did she feel like she was in high school again mooning over the jock that got away? Sure, Jack, take the good ol’ buddy hiking, buy the redhead dinner. Now thoroughly confused, she hit the gas and headed for the market.
A half hour later, she parked the car in the garage and entered through the kitchen with the bags, where Bart met her. “Good boy. Did you take care of mommy?” His tail thumped the nearby counter.
She put everything away, grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and took a swig. Mom was asleep in the recliner in the family room, so she plopped down on the same couch from which she used to watch Buffy, glad they hadn’t gotten rid of it with the remodel.
Mom had apparently fallen asleep watching some reality show about crab fishermen, and the narrator’s voice sounded just like her father’s. Loud. Friendly. Baritone. Maybe that’s why her mother smiled in her sleep? Anne hoped Dad was getting used to his huge cast and lack of independence. He’d seemed restless and impatient earlier today when she’d visited him, which didn’t bode well for when he came home after the weekend.
Something pushed against her back. She pulled it out as she took another drink. Grandma’s fancy embroidery decorated a small lacy pillow Anne had seen her entire life: Good things come to those who wait.
She wouldn’t dare call her grandma corny, but so far the catchy saying hadn’t panned out. Her fingers traced the precision stitches.
Just how long was a girl supposed to wait?
The next morning Anne glared at her puffy eyes and sallow complexion. Would Jack notice if she put on some mascara? For hiking? She imagined sweat getting into her eyes and the black smudges under her lids when she rubbed them in the glaring sun. Maybe not.
What would they talk about? Would everything focus around Brianna? She wasn’t sure she was ready to talk about her personal life with him, wasn’t sure he deserved to know anything. Why had she agreed to go hiking? Oh, right, she’d been bamboozled into it.
If she kept things superficial, she might bore him to death, then maybe he’d leave her alone so she could finally forget him.
Concentrate on the hiking, Anne. The hiking.
The doorbell rang. One last pat of her uncooperative hair then she jogged down the hall to answer it. It wasn’t Jack, and the disappointment surprised her. Why work up a perfectly good case of jitters for nothing?
Jocelyn greeted her wearing workout gear with a warm-up jacket, her hair in a high bouncy ponytail. They hugged in greeting. “I thought I’d bring Bart along while I walk my dogs.”
Bart must have heard his name since he came bounding down the hall, pads slip-sliding around the corner.
“He’d love it!” Anne knelt to get face-to-face with the dog. “You want to walk?” He knew the word and tossed his head in excitement, letting out a dog-styled squeal. “Let me get his leash.” By now, he’d worked himself into a frenzy, whining and prancing around in circles.
“I’ll help your mom get ready for her appointment when I get back,” Jocelyn said as she trotted off with three dogs pulling her down the street.
Anne waved goodbye and watched for a few moments. She smiled then immediately stopped as she caught a glance of Jack’s car coming up the tree-canopied street, releasing a new flock of butterflies in her chest. Should she stand there and wait for him to arrive and park, or go back inside? Adrenaline pumped through her veins, another unwanted reminder of what Jack could do to her. If she stood here gawking he’d be able to tell how nervous she was. If she went back inside, she ran the risk of him seeing her and wondering why she didn’t wait for him. Make up your mind, Anne, go inside or wait out here.
Maybe the most important question was: After all these years, why could Jack still make her act like such a scatterbrain?
Chapter Three
Jack arrived at Anne’s house just before eight with a backpack filled with water and sandwiches, and an unnerving pulse thumping in his chest. White clouds scudded across the soft blue sky thanks to typical Whispering Oaks weather, as spring sunshine warmed his shoulders on the walk to her door. He needed a deep breath to calm down, to put things into perspective. This was just a hike with an old high school friend … whom he’d happened to fall for and put on the spot a long time ago. Hell, no one felt guiltier about that than he did. If he worked things right, maybe today he could broach the subject, and apologize. Maybe, finally, they could start fresh, see where it led.
He knocked three times, and she opened the door as if she’d been standing right on the other side.
“Hi,” he said, the sight of Anne forcing him to either jump into action or stand there like a tongue-tied idiot. “Ready for a workout?” he asked, having gone the animated route, sounding more like a male cheerleader than the contrite dude he’d imagined.
“Sure!” Evidently his fake pep was contagious.
Anne looked great in shorts and cross trainers. Her greeting smile competed with the bright sky, and he was extra glad she’d worn her hair down.
She glanced upward. “Looks like a great day for a hike. Hold on a sec while I say goodbye to my mom.”
He took the opportunity to give himself a stern talking to. No expectations. Just be yourself, then tell her you’re sorry. Sorry about everything.
When she returned, her bubbly façade seemed to have worn off. Had Beverly, with all her good intentions, put too much pressure on her and made this out to be more than a hike? He could only guess. She gave him a solemn glance as she closed and checked the lock on the front door. Putting on her sunglasses she started down the brick pathway to the steps across the lawn. On the walk to the curb, he liked how the sun seemed woven through her nutmeg-colored waves, and was so distracted he almost missed a step. Dude, get a grip.
He rushed to open the car door for her. “I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
She paused before getting into the car. “I thought we were hiking,” she said, and he’d have given a hundred dollars to get a look behind her Hollywood-large sunglasses to try to read this mood shift. His fishing expedition wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as he’d hoped. In all honesty, could he blame her?
Suddenly feeling more like being on one of his computer-arranged dates instead of hanging with his old friend, he started with the usual superficial banter as they drove off. “So, how do you like living in Portland?”
“It’s great,” was all she said, glancing out the passenger window.
“It’s a shame about what happened to your parents, huh?”
She sighed. “Thank goodness it wasn’t worse.”
Could the conversation get any more stilted than this? He decided to back off and see how things played out as he switched on the radio.
Fifteen minutes later, by the time they’d reached the parking area and he hadn’t made much headway with breaking Anne’s icy barrier, the familiar sight of their old hiking grounds made him grin.
“Remember?” he said, only now realizing how tight his jaw had gotten with her silence.
She nodded, a tentative twitch to her lips that he interpreted as a smile.
He shrugged the backpack over his shoulders. “I’ve got water if you need it.” He tried not to stare at her smooth legs that had shaped up nicely since her track days. “Just holler if you want to take any breaks.”
“Sounds good.”
He led the way to their favorite trailhead, and they set off.
An hour and minimal conversations later, they’d hiked to the top of Boulder Peak. He’d purposely held back and let nature do the job of loosening up Anne.
From this vantage point, to the east, he could see the overly developed valley suburbs of Los Angeles; to the west, the bedroom community roofs hugging the surrounding foothills. Thanks to some recent rain, there were tufts of green between the boulders. This was the view he’d longed for. This was the special place he, Brianna and Anne had often hiked to.
“I’d forgotten how gorgeous it is up here,” Anne said, showing the first signs of her old self, her hair floating on the breeze and covering her cheeks.
She came and stood by him and together they revered the panoramic view for several more seconds. It was clear enough to see sparkles from the ocean far in the distance. This gave him the opportunity to smell her flowery soap or body lotion or whatever it was. All he knew was that he liked it, and he liked having her near.
Jack hated feeling like Anne was a stranger, and so far she hadn’t made things easy, so on a whim he grabbed her hand. “Hey, I want to show you something.” He tugged her toward another outcropping and around its corner. His eyes scanned the surface of the rock wall until he found it. He used his palm to rub away dust and debris. “Look,” he said, pointing to a fading circle with three sets of initials inside—his, Brianna’s and Anne’s, and below in tiny letters, BFF. Best friends forever.
“I make a point to come up here once in a while, and I found this last year.” He stood smiling at the names, completely aware how close by Anne was.
“She had a great smile, didn’t she?” Anne removed her sunglasses so she could wipe her brightening eyes.
“She did,” he said, flushed with mixed-up feelings about the woman standing next to him fighting off tears.
“I think it’s great that you come here. She deserves not to be forgotten, you know?”
His throat tightened. “I don’t get the same feeling when I visit her grave. It’s just a plot. But here, we have memories, don’t we?” He didn’t want to come off foolish, not after all these years. Not to Anne. So he swallowed against the emotion balling in his chest. God, he’d made a mess of things back then, but how could he have known what was about to happen to Brianna?
The sun made Anne’s eyes glisten as she looked on the verge of crying. This wasn’t what he’d intended, he didn’t want to wallow in sadness, not with Anne. They’d already lived through enough of that for a lifetime, and right now a change in mood was in order. “For being such a great cheerleader, she sure was a klutz, wasn’t she?”
Anne blurted out a laugh and it brought a rush of relief. “Remember the time she got so excited cheering you on at league finals that she fell over the railing?”
The snapshot in time, so clear of him sprinting for the finish line, seeing Bri jumping and screaming then flipping over the bar and landing on her butt right on the track, made him bark a laugh. Anne joined him as the welcomed laughter broke down another barrier between him and his old friend.
He tossed her a bottle of water and opened one for himself. They drank and smiled at each other, the first genuine smile of the day. It felt great.
“Remember the cave?”
She nodded, leading the way to their favorite hiding place. Fifteen minutes later, on another peak with an equally gorgeous view, they entered the shallow cave. Sheltered from the sun and constant wind, he sat on a rock with his feet propped on another. She sat across from him on another outcrop, and he tossed her a granola bar.
“How do you like teaching?” she asked.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I really like it.”
“When did you go back to school?”
“Long story.”
“I’m interested. Tell me,” she said taking a bite.
He wasn’t about to shut her down after it had taken so long to get her to loosen up. Maybe if he went first, she’d tell him something about herself.
“Okay, then. First, I kicked around Europe for a while. I found jobs where people paid me under the table, then I hired on as a deckhand on an American yacht in Italy and sailed around the Mediterranean and wound up in Greece but I couldn’t find any work, and I couldn’t speak the language, so when my money ran out, I had to come home.” He chewed the last of his granola bar. “My dad wouldn’t let me freeload, so I got a job at Starbucks and went to school to become an EMT.”
“You were a barista?”
“A damn good one, too. Remind me, and I’ll make you a mocha cappuccino sometime.”
She gave a smile that took him right back to high school, a smile that included a taste of challenge. He’d missed that look more than he’d realized.
He got out an apple, rubbed it on his shirt and took a bite. As an afterthought, he held up the second apple for Anne’s inspection. She cupped her hands so he tossed it to her, and she bit right in.
“Go on,” she said, her mouth full of apple.
“Hitting the books put the bug in me to go back to school, and while I worked as an EMT in the day I went to night school at Marshfield City College.” He took another bite of apple and swig of water. “Long story short, I transferred to CSUCI the first year it opened. We called it sushi back then. Anyway, I got my teaching credential four years later. I lucked into a job at WO High a couple years ago. Had a horrendous commute to West L.A. before that.”
“That’s great, Jack.” Anne looked genuinely interested, and he figured he’d ride the crest of his opening up in hopes of getting her to talk.
“So how do you really like living in Portland?”
She smiled at his obvious swipe at her earlier tightlipped response. “I love it. It’s a gorgeous city. Very eco-friendly. Warm dry summers and rainy winters. Clean air.”
She handed him her apple core and he put it inside a plastic baggie along with his own. “What about your job?”
“It’s great. I just started a new job last month as the lead nurse for fourteen doctors in a clinic practice. It’s very different from hospital work, part administrative and part hands-on medicine, but overall a lot less stressful.” She grew pensive and he worried she’d shut down again. “Lately, I’ve been thinking of going back to school.”
“For what?”
She avoided his laser stare and fiddled with a tiny yellow flower on a tall mustard weed. “I don’t know, I’m still thinking about it.”
She hadn’t really opened up about anything, so he thought he’d take a circular route to getting to what he was most curious about. “Do you have a roommate?”
She shook her head, still engrossed with the flower. “I lease a tiny apartment in the Pearl District. It’s a great area, loads of things to do, and I can walk almost everywhere. It’s fairly close to my job, too.”
Maybe she really was happy there. From the glint in her eyes as she went on about her neighborhood, he sensed she’d found a home for good. The realization sat like a boulder in his apple-filled stomach. Hadn’t the last thing he’d said to her before she had left Whispering Oaks been something like, moving on doesn’t necessarily mean you’re moving forward. It hadn’t been the case for him, but for her maybe it had. An aching sense of loss made him blurt out the next question.
“You seeing anyone?”
Her brows lifted then drew together. She stared at her knees. “Uh, no.” The twist to her lips could only be described as a smirk. “Not this year, anyway.”
On a breath of air, he relaxed. “I hear ya,” he said with a mixed rush of relief and possibilities. “I’ve resorted to computer dating, myself.”
Her interest piqued, she slanted a sideways glance his way. “How’s that working for you?”
He shrugged. “Let’s just say, I’m not sure dating should be a science.”
That got a laugh out of her, and he decided to not try to explain how something was always missing, though on paper he and his computer dates had seemed well matched. He couldn’t figure out a lot of things these days, like the heightened desire to find a compatible partner, and the constant disappointment with his dates. “What do you say we take the dome?”
“Today?”
“It’s only ten. We can head up there and eat lunch then I promise to take you right home.”
She flashed her signature challenging look. “I’ll race you to the top!” And she was off before he could get his backpack over his shoulders.
“That’s not fair, speedy!” He resorted to taunting her with the nickname he’d given her in high school for always finishing last in the 800M race. She laughed and her feet stuttered on loose gravel. Anne grabbed a root sticking out of a rock to steady her and glared over her shoulder. It wasn’t a real glare, but one of Anne’s pretend angry looks, and it took him right back to high school and that girl he used to know. Now he was getting somewhere.
The drive home was companionably quiet. Anne couldn’t help but think Jack had something else he wanted to say. The muscle worked at the corner of his jaw, his hand gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary. Why did she have the compulsion to run her fingers through the close cropped dark blond waves on his head? Instead, she sighed and looked out the passenger window.
When he pulled into her driveway, he threw the car into Park and turned toward her. “You remember Drew?”
She nodded. Drew had been Jack’s best friend in high school. Evidently they were still close.
“He’s got his own hot air balloon company right over in Marshfield. I used to work for him on weekends and during the summers when I went to CSUCI. Why don’t you let me take you up for a ride next Saturday? You can’t say you’ve really seen Whispering Oaks until you’ve seen it from the air.”
She ignored the charming glint in those fern green eyes.
The thought of floating in the air hanging in a basket with Jack had its merits, but last night, when she couldn’t fall asleep, she’d promised not to fall back into their old pattern of being the odd man out with Brianna at the center. And a lot of today had been about Bri. Of course Brianna deserved it, and it was a good starting off place for her and Jack to try to sort things out from before, but everything still seemed so confusing. And how much guilt could she take with Brianna’s memory breathing over her shoulder reminding her how she’d betrayed her best friend by loving Jack, by stealing his attention when Brianna was getting sick and no one even knew it.
I think Jack likes someone else, she’d told Anne over the phone the week before the diagnosis.
If she was still this messed up over their situation, how must Jack feel?
Anne glanced at Jack and got the distinct impression he needed to spend time with her. She’d worked with grieving families as a nurse, and recognized his need for closure. And God only knew how much needed to be closed, but didn’t she have enough on her plate with her mom and dad? And, really, what was the point? They weren’t involved in each other’s lives anymore.
“Jack, it’s been great seeing you again. I really enjoyed the hike today, but I’m here to take care of my parents. I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”
He didn’t try to hide his disappointment. “You? Afraid?”
“What?”
“You said, ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to pass’ but what I heard was ‘I’m afraid’. You’ve never been afraid of anything, Anne.”
She tossed him a disbelieving glance. “You sure we’re talking about the same person?”
He shrugged. “That’s how I’ve always seen it.”
Was that a challenge in his eyes? Was it finally time to see if those embers of interest were still ignitable? Maybe where Jack was concerned she was afraid, and she definitely didn’t want to deal with these mixed-up guilty thoughts. Not now. Not under these circumstances. He’d put her through hell. She’d left town because of him—well that and college. And hadn’t she seen him with another woman last night, computer date or not! Why set herself up for more heartache? Besides, once Lucas got home, she was leaving. Again. She had moved on.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’ve got to go inside,” she said as she opened the car door.
“You’ll burn out if you’re not careful.” He wasn’t making it easy, but she closed the door anyway. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
She bent and ducked her head through the window. “Okay. But Jack? You’ve got to understand that I can’t be your buddy anymore.”
She bit her bottom lip. Jack used to like her straight-arrow honesty, but from the thoughtful, almost hurt expression on his face, she knew she’d gone too far. Too late. She couldn’t take back what she’d already said, and it was how she felt.
“That’s not what I’m asking,” he said, brows low, eyes crinkled and staring at the steering wheel.
“Sorry.” She didn’t give him the chance to explain further as she strode up the walkway to her front door and let herself in.
I can’t be your buddy because it hurts too damn much.
Sunday, Anne and Beverly got confirmation that Kieran would indeed be discharged on Monday. When Anne questioned being able to fit Dad into the family compact sedan, she’d been assured by her father that the transportation home had been prearranged.
Monday afternoon an ancient yet familiar beat-up blue van pulled into the driveway, and once again, in her own home, Anne felt conspired against. She rolled the wheelchair to the sliding door where her father smiled, casted leg extended from one captain seat to the other in the huge belly of the vehicle. Jack sat behind the wheel with a tentative look on his face. It was the first time she’d seen him since she’d slammed him about trying to pick up where they’d left off. At least he didn’t look like he hated her.
She nodded at him. He lifted a hand as a wave. “Hold on a minute, let me help,” he said, hopping out the door and rounding the van.
Beverly stood behind Anne waving at her husband. “Welcome home, sweetie.”
“It’s great to be back, babe!”
“I’ll take care of this,” Jack said, as Anne pushed the wheelchair right to the side of the car. “We worked everything out at the hospital when we loaded him up.”
Several minutes passed as Jack and her dad played the maxi-van version of Twister, but emerged with Dad tottering on crutches just long enough to hop to the wheelchair.
Thinking in advance, Anne had put a sturdy slab of plywood over the two inch step-up through the kitchen door. With arm muscles tight and bulging, Jack pushed the two hundred pounds of her father, plus full leg cast, as if they weighed no more than a Hello Kitty stroller.
Anne tried her best not to watch, but gave in at the first glimpse of his deltoids.
Once inside, Beverly hugged Kieran, smiling until her eyes disappeared. He kissed her on the cheek since she was still smiling. “It’s great to be home,” he said.
Bart was beside himself with his favorite person back from “gone,” and high stepped and whined for attention. “There’s my boy,” Kieran said, kissing the dog’s nose and rubbing his ears. If dogs could smile, Bart was.
“Where should I put him?” Jack asked.
“Over here.” Beverly pointed the way to the family room and Jack steered past.
Anne brought in the crutches left leaning against the van, anything to distance herself from Jack and his invasion of her family. When she stepped back into the kitchen, she heard her father ask his favorite question. “What’s to eat? Do you have any idea how bad hospital food is?”
Anne opened the refrigerator and got out the pound of deli turkey and horseradish cheddar cheese slices she’d bought in anticipation of her father’s homecoming. She’d keep herself busy and let her parents occupy Jack.
She brought the tray of sandwiches to the family room and everyone dug in. Kieran was so happy to be home he tossed a half sandwich to Bart who caught it in midair and swallowed without nearly enough chewing.
Throughout all the activity and chatting, Anne caught glimpses of Jack stealing looks at her. Why did she give him the power to make her nervous? And each time she’d make a sorry attempt at a smile, he did the same. Yet when he left, all he did was wave goodbye. Maybe she’d gotten through to him.
Kieran insisted Jack return the next day after school to help him wash up, refusing to let his daughter, the nurse who’d seen everything, assist.
Once again faced with Jack, looking fit in well-worn jeans and a T-shirt, her palms tingled, there were tickles behind her knees and a flutter in her chest. She fought off the reactions by pretending to be engrossed in cutting the left leg out of two pairs of sweatpants for her father, and sent Jack down the hall to her father’s bedroom. It didn’t work. All the way from the family room, she strained to eavesdrop on their conversation over the sound of the running shower, and almost shushed her mother when she insisted on talking.
“Should we ask Jack to stay for dinner?” Beverly asked while attempting to stick a ruler under her cast.
“Mom, stop that. You can get an infection. And no, I was only planning on soup and sandwiches, and I’m sure Jack has other plans.”
“He’s been a lifesaver.”
“And what have I been, Mom?” Feeling overlooked again, Anne made a point of being in the laundry room when Jack left.
Being a twenty-four-hour on-call nurse had nearly wiped out Anne, both physically and mentally. Not that her parents were demanding, but dealing with their dueling casts and cooking—something she loathed but did because her parents wouldn’t tolerate frozen food—had all taken its toll. She counted the days until Lucas’s return.
Thursday, the laundry got interrupted with a shout.
“Annie belle!” her father’s booming but muffled voice called from down the hall.
She rushed to his aid but the door wouldn’t open. “Don’t come in,” her mother said from the other side. Bart paced with concern outside.
Once again, modesty kept father from allowing daughter to help. Not that she could have anyway, without straining her back. “Then why call me?”
“Let me get something to cover him, then you can go in.”
Kieran had gotten the bright idea to take a bath with his leg propped up on the side of the tub. He’d log-rolled into the extra long master bath tub using his upper body strength and sheer will, with Beverly, the enabler, on standby. Mom had turned on the water. All had gone well until it was time to get out of the tub.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/lynne-marshall/courting-his-favourite-nurse-39872616/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.