Читать книгу Groom in Training - Gail Martin Gaymer - Страница 9

Nick sat beside his mother’s bed, studying the butter colored walls with the large clock and a card with the day and date. Everything in the facility was geared for helping the elderly men and women hang on to what mental capacity they still had.

His gaze slipped to a vase of dying flowers on his mother’s bed table. The signature on the card was Martin’s. Nick winced, then lowered his eyes and spotted the menu sheet below it. He grasped the paper, reading the choices she would have for her next meals—meals she couldn’t eat without help. He looked everywhere but at his mother. The sight broke his heart. If he had Martin’s disposition, he could deal with this horrendous situation. Whenever Nick came to visit her, a lump grew in his throat so huge he thought he would choke on it.

A guttural sound caught his attention, and he shifted toward his mother. Her glazed eyes stared at him.

“Do you want something?” Nick knew he’d never understand what she needed.

He listened to her sounds, forcing an attentive look on his face rather than the frustration he felt. She tried so hard to form words.

His pulse skipped. “Water? Do you want water?”

The expression in her eyes validated his question. He grasped the water carafe, poured a fresh glass and bent the straw. She drew in droplets of water, some running down her chin, and when she finished, he took a tissue and wiped it away while searching for conversation.

“Martin’s new house is nice.”

An attentive look swept over her. “I helped him put away some dishes in the kitchen.” Should he or shouldn’t he? He decided to go with his instinct. “I found some of your crystal. A serving bowl and some dessert plates. A sugar bowl and creamer. They took me back to when we were kids. You always used those fancy dishes for holidays, remember?” The nostalgia twisted through him. No wonder he avoided these visits.

Her foot shifted, the only one that she could move, and she nodded.

Nick caught her flicker of gratitude. “We had a good childhood, Mom.” His mind flew back to his fights with Martin over toys and chicken breasts. Nick hated thighs, and he often confused one for a breast since they often looked alike to him. “Remember, Mom, when you gave up cooking whole chickens and only bought white meat?”

A grotesque sound burst from her throat until he realized she was trying to talk while laughing.

He’d made her laugh.

His stomach tightened. He had to visit more. As much as Martin irked him, his brother had been a faithful visitor, and he’d tried to motivate Nick to do the same. His glance shifted toward the vase of fading flowers. He could at least bring along a bouquet on his next visit.

Steph liked flowers. New blooms poked up from the ground in her garden. He’d noticed them though he had no idea what kind of flowers they were. Women seemed to like pretty things—flowers, sunsets, romantic movies and candlelight dinners. He’d tried to make Cara happy, but he’d failed. Time had been her complaint. He didn’t give her enough time. Maybe flowers and romantic movies weren’t that important. Maybe it was time? A faint shrug moved his shoulder. He had no idea what women wanted.

He wanted people to be real and truthful. Like dogs. Steph had said it the other day. Dogs wagged their tails, and he had no doubt they were content and happy. Humans weren’t that easy to read.

Nick looked at his mother again. How would Steph handle the situation with his mother? Would it even be an issue for her? His mother’s eyes flickered, and he realized he’d been silent too long.

He rested his hand on hers. “Martin’s neighbor is very nice.”

Her eyes brightened.

“She has a border collie, so Martin’s worried about Suzette and the collie getting together.”

Meaningless sounds came from his mother, and her bright eyes faded to frustration.

Nick patted her hand. “I know, Mom.” He detested his feeling of helplessness.

“Her dog’s named Fred. The two dogs rubbed noses and became fast friends.” A grin sprouted on his face. He and Steph had bonded, too, minus the nose rubbing.

His mother’s mouth twisted into a grimace though he suspected it was a smile. Then her head shifted a little, her gaze probing his. He guessed her question. “Yes, I like her.

We’ve only talked a couple of times, and if I—” If I what? If ever he needed to talk to his mom, today would be it.

Her brow knitted, and Nick relaxed. “You want to know how I really feel about her.”

Her face relaxed, giving him the answer. “I like her…a lot. I don’t know why. We’ve only met, but she gives me confidence.” That was it. Confidence. Though his mother lay so near, he allowed his stream of consciousness to be spoken aloud. “When Cara broke our engagement, I felt like a failure. I hadn’t understood what I’d done. I suppose I knew a little from her spiteful comments. I didn’t give her enough time.”

His mother’s eyes searched his.

“Now my time and energy is tied up with the business, so getting involved in a relationship is useless.” Or was it? “I need to understand myself before I involve anyone else in my life.” Would he ever understand himself? Doubt flooded his mind.

When he looked up, moisture had collected in the corner of his mother’s eye. Maybe he’d upset her with his rambling. Nick pulled another tissue from the box on her tray, wiping away the tears. This is what he couldn’t handle. He patted her arm and eyed his watch. “I’d better go and let you rest.”

He sensed a guilty expression spreading over his face. He couldn’t hide it. “If…when I come again, can I bring you anything?” He racked his mind for something to entertain her. She had always loved to read, but she needed two hands to hold a book. “Would you like a novel on tape? I could bring you something like that?”

She gave a little shrug, and he wasn’t sure if it was a yes or no, but what he did know is he had to come back again and soon. He rose and bent to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for listening. I love you, Mom.”

Sounds slipped from her lips, and he knew she’d said she loved him, too.

Nick hurried from the building, eager to breathe fresh air and wash away the scent of medicine and antiseptic. His chest weighed with emotions he didn’t want to feel. Life wasn’t fair. His mother had been a good woman, a faithful wife and a thoughtful mother. Why did God give her a devastating stroke?

He slid into his car, letting the thoughts settle into reason. God didn’t promise a life without pain or sorrow. A Scripture slipped into his mind, something about how in our weaknesses we become more powerful, because we turn to the Lord for strength. His mother’s power was her faith. One day she would be whole again in heaven.

His throat knotted. Nick grasped his own faith and sent up a prayer for the Lord to touch his weakness with greater strength. He needed to be a faithful son just as his mother had been faithful to her family—her boys—and to the Lord.

Nick flipped open his cell phone and hit his brother’s stored number. He’d nearly hung up before Martin finally answered.

“I’m leaving the nursing home now. Mom’s good. I talked about a few things—when we were kids. She even laughed. At least, I think that’s what it was.”

“I know it’s difficult, but you did the right thing. I’m glad you went.” Martin’s voice sounded different—less critical and more accepting.

“I am, too.” Martin’s reaction punctuated Nick’s decision to be a better son.

He said goodbye and flipped the lid on his cell phone. Why couldn’t he and Martin talk like that about everything? He needed to pray for Martin and for their relationship. One of these days, his brother would be the only family he had left.

A lump formed in his throat, and he tossed the cell on the passenger seat. Emotions. He hated them.

Fred’s bark zapped Steph to action. She dashed to the patio door, hoping she’d find Nick at the fence, but when her foot hit the flagstone, her stomach spiraled. Martin. Though he appeared to be an older version of Nick, his expression showed no relationship. Nick had warned her.

She drew up her shoulders and marched to the fence. “What’s the problem?”

“Keep your mongrel away from my dog.”

Steph winced and drew back from his index finger aiming at her nose. “The dog has every right to be in his own yard.”

“You think so?” His accusing finger swung toward the fence.

She eyed the pile of dirt where Fred had begun to dig. Her nerves tingled, and she feared she couldn’t get out the words. “I guarantee it won’t happen ag—”

“Why not? You think that mutt’s going to forget how to dig?”

This wasn’t the way she wanted to meet Martin. And it wasn’t like Fred. She shifted her gaze from Martin’s mottled face to Suzette bounding around the yard as if showing off for poor Fred. He was smitten.

She sent Martin a piercing look, hoping to convince him she wasn’t going to put up with his insults. “Calm down, please. Fred didn’t get into your yard. He only dug a little hole.”

“Because I stopped him. Next time, I might not be that—”

“Next time? I told you it won’t happen again.” Today she understood Nick’s concern.

As her words charged across the fence, she spotted Nick racing toward them with the expression of a fireman heading for a five alarm fire.

Martin raised his fist. “He better not or—”

“Whoa, bro.” Nick skidded to his side and grabbed Martin’s knotted fingers. “What’s going on?” He shifted his gaze from his brother to Steph and gave her one of those I-told-you-so looks.

Martin snatched away his hand.

“What happened?” Nick asked, shaking his head.

She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Fred dug a minute hole beside the fence and—”

“No need to explain.” Nick eyed Suzette, prancing at his side, and brushed his hand over her fur. “Suzette, are you getting in trouble?”

Martin’s look pierced Nick. “What do you mean Suzette? She didn’t dig the hole.”

“Martin, the dogs are getting along fine. You’re the one with the problem. Learn something from your dog.”

Martin’s nostrils flared. “This isn’t your business.” He spun on his heel and marched away from the fence with Suzette pattering alongside him.

Steph remained quiet. She had to live next door to the man.

Nick rested his elbow on the fence post. “Sorry about that. Like I told you, my brother has a short fuse sometimes. He needs to learn a little diplomacy.”

“That’s not all he needs to learn.” Steph arched a brow. “He called Fred a mongrel.” She gazed into the large yard, noticing Suzette had gone inside. Not by choice, she was sure.

He leaned over the fence and eyed the hole, grasped the fence post and flung himself over the top rail, then wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I can’t believe my brother made a fuss over this.”

Steph’s chest hummed.

His arm slipped away, and she stood dumbfounded, admiring his muscular arms while he eyed the hole. Her body ached to be back in his embrace. When her pulse stopped racing, she could finally concentrate. “This isn’t like Fred at all.”

“Remember, men do crazy things around women.” He grinned at her before turning his attention to the fence.

Didn’t he think jumping over a fence was crazy? Her mouth curved to a grin.

“Do you think we should do something to stop him from digging?” He looked at her flower beds, the fresh blooms peeking up from the ground. “Some kind of safeguard.”

Safeguard? She needed to safeguard herself from her emotions. “Thanks, but it’s not your problem.” She plucked lint from her sweater. “How can two men from the same family be so different? Was your brother adopted?”

Nick tossed his head back, chuckling. “I’ve wondered that myself.”

A giddy feeling came over her, and she sensed the expression had bonded to her face.

“Every time I meet you I like you more and more.” His eyes glinted as he gave her another one-armed squeeze.

“Thanks.” The touch swept to her toes. She lowered her gaze, needing to turn the subject away from her. “I don’t know what got into Fred.”

“Males can be impetuous when it comes to the fairer sex.” He lowered his arm as if he had just noticed the hug. “I’d better get inside and deal with the ‘wrath of Martin.’ I’ll do what I can to talk sense into him, and let me know if I can help.”

She doubted if that were possible now that she’d witnessed Martin in action.

He catapulted over the fence again, sent her a smile and headed toward the house.

Steph caught her breath. She loved his smile, but the whole situation gave her an unsettling feeling. She turned her attention back to the hole and kicked back the dirt. Frowning at Fred, she forced his nose to the fresh earth and gave him a stern look. “No. No digging.”

She waited a moment to let her reprimand sink in, then crouched beside him. “You have to be good. I can’t deal with a cranky neighbor.” Steph petted his black-and-white coat as she leaned toward his ear. “Just ignore Suzette. You’re too good for her anyway. She is a flirt.”

Fred tilted his head, his tongue dangling, and panted as if he’d run a race.

“Let’s go inside.” Steph rose and slapped her thigh. “Come.”

Realizing Suzette wasn’t the only one flirting lately, Steph shook her head and stepped toward the house with Fred following the way she’d trained him. Inside, she tossed him a treat, then grabbed a cookie for herself and sank into the nearest kitchen chair.

Today from watching their interaction, she couldn’t decide why these men lived together. They were so different. But it didn’t matter. She liked the idea that Nick was close by. He could be the buffer between her and his brother. Steph grinned thinking about the way he tried to handle the situation with humor. He’d wasted his effort. Steph leaned back, picturing Nick’s glinting eyes and playful smile. He said he liked her. She should have been honest and admitted she liked him, too. Too late now for should haves. She admired people who were straightforward. Being more direct with people was easier when she knew them well, like Molly, but Nick didn’t fit that category.

Probably for the best.

Now that Martin had become her neighbor, she was extra grateful for Time for Paws with its large indoor and outdoor areas for her dogs, which worked so much better than her house. The move gave her ample room to care for more pets on a daily basis. Along with space, the added income made a huge difference in keeping up her expenses.

Instead of dwelling on the day care, Steph turned to the problem at hand. Fred was her dog. He lived there, and he had every right to play in the backyard. Steph nibbled on the cookie as she reviewed her conversation with Martin. He insulted her and her dog with his name-calling. When she put Martin’s anger into perspective, it seemed like a fly speck in relationship to much of her life when she’d had to rescue herself. Dodging her memories, Steph pulled herself back to resolve the immediate situation.

She could take a different tack. Next time she spoke with Martin she would say nice things about Suzette and agree that she was special. Not that Fred wasn’t. But he had to stop digging. Being around other dogs was nothing new to Fred. He’d enjoyed playing with the ones she cared for each day. So why now? Maybe Nick had hit on it. Fred wanted to play. So did Suzette. Eventually the dogs would be so familiar with each other the excitement would fade. No more digging.

But could she convince Martin the ogre to give it a try? If she couldn’t, she could count on Nick. His charm could win over anyone.

Steph stood back, her eyes brimming with tears. “Molly, you look gorgeous.”

Her friend peered at her through the boutique mirror. “You think Brent will like it?”

Fighting back her own emotion, Steph drew up her shoulders. “No, he won’t like it.”

Molly spun around, her wedding gown twisted around her body. “No?”

“He’ll love it, Molly. You look amazing.”

Molly gazed at the dress, a satin gown with hints of delicate pink blossoms embroidered on the sheer overlay. A satin bow adorned the fitted waist and flowed to the ground.

Seeing Molly’s wedding dress pierced Steph’s memory. For her own winter wedding, she’d worn satin with lace detailing. She’d been filled with so much hope. “The dress is perfect for a spring wedding.” Steph approached her, the chiffon of her gown swishing at her feet. The soft coral shade flashed in the mirror. “Look how your veil has the same lacy detail. It’s perfect. You look beautiful.”

“I don’t feel like it. I’m getting nervous.”

“All brides feel that way.” Her mind flew back, reliving her rankled nerves as she approached her wedding day, but using herself as an example wouldn’t soothe Molly’s tension. “When you walk down the aisle and look into Brent’s face, your anxiety will be gone.”

“I know, but I want everything to be perfect.”

“There you go, Moll. Still looking for perfection.”

Molly shrugged, and they both laughed.

Steph had never known anyone besides Molly who wanted her life to be flawless. Life did have imperfections. She closed her mouth, unwilling to muffle Molly’s happiness. “Being a bride is like falling in love. You feel giddy one minute and question yourself the next. Your pulse throbs, and your chest presses against your heart, and you—”

“Hold it.” Molly lifted the hem of her gown and rushed to her side, letting the lacy hem fall to the carpet.

Steph tried to read her mind. “What?”

Molly narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me. I can’t believe it.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” She had no idea what Molly was talking about.

“You’re in love.”

A grasp escaped her. “In love?” Steph nearly choked on the word. She couldn’t be in love. In like, maybe, or infatuated. That was different than real love.

“It’s that guy you told me about. Your new neighbor.” She moved closer, her eyes wide. “You haven’t told me a thing.”

“Nothing to tell.” Her heart sang as images of Nick swept through her mind, but saying it aloud made it too real. “You have romance on your mind. Let’s get these dresses off and have lunch like we planned.”

Molly rested her fingers against her cheeks. “Steph, I miss our talks.”

So did Steph. Since Brent had come into Molly’s life, her life had changed, too. Between the shelter and Brent, Steph had taken a backseat. Resentment didn’t enter into it, only disappointment. And only for herself. Steph’s chest weighed with selfish thoughts until she cast them away, wanting only the best for Molly. “We see each other at work. We still talk.” But they both knew it wasn’t the same.

Color pooled on Molly’s face. “It’s hard to believe the date is almost here. I’d been certain for so long that I would never marry.”

“That’s something we used to have in common.” Steph tried to sound lighthearted, but she feared she failed.

“I know.” Molly’s excitement faded.

Steph wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “Don’t feel bad.

I’m happy for you, Molly, and I’ve never seen you happier.” She’d finally spoken the truth, and the tension lifted.

Molly eased to Steph’s side. “It just goes to prove that what we think and what God has in store don’t always go hand in hand.” She squeezed Steph’s arm. “You don’t know what He has planned for you.”

Molly and God. Steph wished she had the kind of confidence that Molly had.

A grin grew on Molly’s face. “Now, lest you think I’ve forgotten what we were talking about, I’m not moving until you tell me everything.”

“I have nothing to tell even if we can stay here all day.” Steph glanced toward the doorway, hoping the tailor would return to break into their conversation. “It’s a standoff. I’m hungry, and you promised me lunch, but I’m not going with you in that gown.” Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Talk to her. Don’t be stupid. But Steph couldn’t open her mouth. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” Her chest squeezed.

“Let me be the judge.” Molly folded her arms across her chest, resembling a bailiff in a wedding dress.

The picture made Steph laugh. “Okay, but let’s get our clothes on so we can leave. The dresses fit.”

“What’s his name? You never told me.”

“Nick. Nick Davis.”

Molly’s forehead wrinkled. “Nick Davis.” She pressed her index finger to her lips, then shook her head. “I’ve heard his name somewhere. Maybe Brent knows him.” She reached back for the zipper.

“Let me help you.” Steph turned her around, hoping the zipper would bring an end to the conversation.

But Molly twisted her neck and spoke over her shoulder. “Have you been on a date with him?”

A date? Steph was glad Molly couldn’t see her face. “If you call walking the dogs a date, yes.”

Molly slipped her arms from the gown. “Does he like you?”

“Yes, as a friend, but that’s fine. I’m not ready for anything serious.” Her mind flooded with dark thoughts. “First I have to learn to be more attentive to—”

“Stop blaming yourself, Steph.” The gown slipped from Molly’s body and pooled on the white cloth beneath her feet as she spun to face her. “Suicide is a selfish act. It leaves people asking themselves forever what they did wrong and what they might have done to make it better. Doug wanted to die for his own reason. You didn’t. You want to live, and it’s about time you did.”

Steph pressed the phone against her ear. Her fingers knotted around the receiver, and she forced her voice to sound normal, but tension had risen like a tsunami. “Why are you still living with Dad anyway, Hal? You two never got along.”

“That was before. We’ve been getting along until recently.”

She heard something in her brother’s voice that didn’t connect. Hal and her dad had a different set of ethics and values. They never were compatible. “What’s happened now?”

He didn’t respond.

“Are you working?” Steph pursed her lips, waiting to see how he’d wiggle out of that question.

“Why does everything revolve around that?”

A deep breath rattled through her lungs. “Answer me. Are you living off Dad again?”

“I don’t like your attitude, Steph. We haven’t talked in a long time. You’re my sister. I just called to see how you’re doing. I miss you.”

Since when? “I’m okay.”

“I thought maybe I’d come your way. You know, give Dad a few days’ break. Maybe then we’ll see eye to eye when I get back.”

She doubted that. Forget seeing eye to eye; her father probably preferred to see Hal’s hand with a paycheck. “Hal, I think before you visit anyone, you should spend time looking for work.”

“You don’t sound very—”

She lost the end of his sentence when the doorbell rang. Fred let out a yip as he scrambled to the door, flipping a scatter rug across the kitchen floor. “Hal, someone’s at the door. Hang on.”

Steph set the phone on the counter, wishing she’d said she was hanging up. As she approached the door, Fred tripped her, and she shot across the entry, one foot splaying on the hardwood and the other lifting in the air like a hornpiper’s jig. She whacked against the door, cringed and flung it open.

Nick’s mouth gaped. “Are you okay?”

She tried to grin, but she was sure it was a grimace. She beckoned him in. “My brother’s on the phone.” She headed back to the kitchen, keeping her eye out for Fred, with no need. She could hear him prancing around Nick’s legs near the door.

“Sorry, Hal. A neighbor dropped by.”

His deep sigh cut through the line. Steph listened to the silence, waiting.

“I’d better let you go. You have company.”

Her chest filled with air and she released it in one long stream. “All right, Hal, and good luck finding a job.” Her frustration had to be evident.

When she pulled the telephone from her ear, his last words struck her before she disconnected.

“I’ll see you soon.”

See her soon? She couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said. When she turned, Nick stood in the kitchen doorway.

“Bad news?”

She forced her mouth into a pleasant expression. Nick looked great. The May sun had deepened his skin tone to a bronze tan, making his chiseled features even more attractive. “My brother called. He wants to come for a visit, but I know he wants a handout. That’s the only reason he’d come here.”

“If you’re having company, I can leave anytime if you have things to do.”

“He’s not coming today.”

He eyed her, and she sensed he was waiting for an explanation.

“He doesn’t live in Michigan.” She grew silent, thinking about Hal and what he wanted.

Nick remained quiet for a moment and studied her. “You’re absorbed in something.”

“Thinking about my brother. I wish I knew what’s going on.”

“Has he wanted a handout before?”

Memories flooded Steph—times when she convinced Doug to bail him out of a problem and other times she slipped him money rather than ask Doug. That was when she had money to squander. Hal’s loans were really handouts.

“I didn’t mean to meddle.”

Nick’s voice cut through her thoughts. His face filled with concern.

The look squeezed against her heart. “You’re not meddling. It’s nice to have someone to talk with.” She’d talked with Molly so often about her problems, the kind of fun talking like they’d done earlier that day. She winced, realizing how lonely she’d become without having Molly to herself. Today at the boutique had made the change all too vivid.

Nick was still leaning against the doorjamb, and Steph found her manners. “Let’s sit.” She motioned toward the living room as she moved ahead of him. “By the way, thanks for the rescue Thursday.

“You’re welcome.” He followed her through the archway.

She gestured toward the sofa. “I don’t expect you to bail me out every time I have a run-in with Martin.”

A grin brightened his face as he settled into an easy chair. “You looked as if you needed rescuing.”

She curled her legs up on the sofa. “Maybe I did. I might have dug myself into a deeper hole than Fred made. With all that anger, he could have a stroke.”

Nick’s face blanched, and Steph knew she’d struck a negative cord. Why did she seem to say the wrong thing everywhere she went today? She’d upset Molly, too. “I’m only kidding.”

“I know, but he could if he keeps it up.” He fell silent a moment, then thrust his back from the cushion. “When I walked up Thursday, I could see you’d put Martin in his place. That’s why he became angrier. But he needs people to talk back to him or he’ll never learn.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment. “I’m too close to the problem to do any good.”

“I have the same situation with Hal. I’m his sister, and it’s difficult being objective.”

Nick gave his head a shake. “Speaking of brothers, Martin’s at some kind of a shindig, and he asked me to walk Suzette. As usual, I didn’t say no.” He gave her a hangdog look. “So I dropped by to see if you’d like to take the dogs for a walk? We could pick up a sandwich or carryout somewhere and eat dinner in the park.”

Steph weighed the possibility. “That sounds nice, Nick. I don’t enjoy eating alone.”

“Me, neither.” His smile lit the room.

She pushed herself from the sofa. “While you go for Suzette, I’ll get ready.”

“It’s a date,” he said.

A date. Molly’s question flew into her mind. Steph didn’t move, watching him stride across the room to the foyer and walk out the door. Doug had been gone for over four years, and this was her first date. A sandwich in the park.