Читать книгу The Perfect Gift - Lenora Worth - Страница 12

Her locket was missing.

Frantic, Goldie searched all around her bed and the bedside table, then buzzed for a nurse. She glanced at the clock. It was almost time for Rory to come and take her home, but she couldn’t leave without her locket. When the bubbly RN rushed into her room, Goldie was just about out of the bed.

“Don’t try to get up by yourself,” the nurse objected, holding Goldie’s arm. “Do you need a bathroom break?”

“No, I…I can’t find my locket,” Goldie replied, willing herself not to cry. “It’s on a gold chain—it’s a filigree-etched square with a porcelain picture of a Louisiana iris and a tiny yellow butterfly. Somebody must have taken it off me when they brought me in.”

The nurse opened drawers and went through the nearby closet. “Here’s the bag that came with your personal belongings. Want me to check inside? It might be in your purse.”

Goldie nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

She watched closely as the nurse searched her leather purse then rummaged through Goldie’s clothes from last night. “I don’t see anything like that, honey. Maybe you gave the locket to someone for safekeeping before you came here?”

“No,” Goldie replied, trying to think. Had Rory removed the locket last night? Or had she lost it? She couldn’t remember. What if someone had taken it? She’d never forgive herself if something had happened to it.

“Just relax and I’ll ask at the desk,” the nurse advised, trying to reassure her as she handed Goldie her belongings.

Goldie bobbed her head. “Ask everyone. I have to find it. It’s very old and has a lot of sentimental value.”

“Okay.” The nurse walked toward the door. “I’ll see what I can do, but you know the hospital isn’t—”

“I know—not responsible for the loss of valuables,” Goldie repeated. “I understand.”

But she wanted her necklace back. She had to find it. So she waited for the nurse to leave, then she carefully got up to search on her own. She made it to the end of the bed but she stood up too quickly. Her pulse quickened as blood rushed from her head and made her dizzy.

And that’s when Rory walked in and grabbed her just as she reached for the bed for support.

“Hey, hey,” Rory urged, guiding Goldie back to the bed. “Where you going, sunshine?”

“My locket,” Goldie explained, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the stars flashing through her brain. “I…I think I lost it.”

He gazed down at her. She looked so young and innocent, lying there devoid of makeup. Her hair wasn’t exactly blond, more burnished and gold than a true blond. It shimmered like silky threads against her cheeks while the square patch of gauze just over her hairline shined starkly white. The frown on her face only made her look more like a lost little girl than a determined woman.

“I remember your locket. You were wearing it last night. At least, I saw it when I turned you over on the couch.”

“I was?” She sat up again. “Maybe I lost it at your house.”

“I’ll look when I get home,” he said. Because this woman had disrupted his life to the point that he was worried about her and what she meant to him as a man, he asked, “So what’s the deal with that pretty locket, anyway?”

She looked away, toward the window. “My daddy gave it to me before he went to war during Desert Storm. It has a picture of me and him inside it. He never made it home.”

“Oh, wow.” Rory felt bad for being so nosy. “I’m sure sorry to hear that. No wonder it means so much to you.”

“It does and it’s very old. It belonged to his great-great-grandmother. And my grandmother gave it to him to give to me on my twelfth birthday. It’s kind of a tradition in our family. Grammy says good things happen to the women who wear that locket. So far, that hasn’t exactly been the case with me.”

Rory hadn’t pegged her for being traditional nor for feeling sorry for herself, but under the circumstances, he could certainly understand why she looked so down. And he could sympathize with her need to find the piece of jewelry. “I’ll look over the house and in the yard, too. I’ll get the boys to help.”

“I’d appreciate that.” She stared at the ceiling. “I’ve made such a mess of things. Wrecking my car, losing my necklace. I need to get my life together somehow.”

Rory could tell she was fighting back tears. “Listen, your car might be fixable and…well, we’ll probably find your locket. Just be glad you’re okay. That wreck could have been much worse.”

She looked over at him, her smile bittersweet. “I guess I am acting a little over-the-top. And you’re right. I’m still here and Grammy needs me. It’s just that was one of the few things my daddy ever gave me. My parents were divorced so I didn’t get to see him much.”

“That’s a shame,” Rory replied. “I’m blessed that my parents had a great marriage. My mom’s a widow now, but I had a pretty good childhood. Nothing major—just lots of good memories.”

She smiled again. “Yes, you are blessed. I’ve never had that. We transferred all over while my dad was alive and in the army, then my mother moved us around a lot after the divorce. Grammy was the one who kept me grounded and safe, even if she and my mother don’t always see eye to eye.”

“And where’s your mother now? Should I call her?”

She shook her head. “No. That’s okay. I’ll give her an update when she checks on us. She’s traveling overseas, one of those long tours with a bunch of her friends—a big Christmas extravaganza. Angela likes to travel and she rarely calls home.”

Rory thought her daughter did not like that arrangement. In spite of her pretty curls and her soft smile, he sensed loneliness in Goldie. And he wondered how long she’d been searching for a safe place to lay her head. “Hey, let’s get you home to your grandmother. She’s told me she’s got a big pot of homemade chicken soup simmering on the stove just for you. And fresh-baked corn bread to go with it.”

“Grammy’s answer to anything is chicken soup,” Goldie said. “And she makes the best. She puts homemade dumplings in there.”

“I take it you like her cooking,” Rory replied, grinning.

“I like food, period.” She laughed then grimaced. “And if I stay with her much longer, I won’t be able to fit into any of my clothes.”

Rory thought Goldie looked just perfect, but he refrained from making such a flirtatious comment since they didn’t really know each other. Yet.

Then he told himself not to even think along those lines. He had enough to keep him busy, what with the boys, his mother and his work and, well, a man got lonely just like a woman did, he reasoned.

But he didn’t need to think about that right now.

“Has the doctor been by?” he asked, suddenly ready to get out of here.

Goldie waved toward the hallway. “Yes. I’m sorry, I guess you’re ready. I was waiting on the nurse. She’s checking around for my locket.”

“Oh, okay.” He tapped his knuckles on the food tray. “Got everything else together?”

“Yes. One of Grammy’s friends brought me this change of clothes. I sent your poinsettia home with her.”

He noticed she was wearing a sweater and some wide-legged sweatpants. “I could have brought that. I didn’t even think about clothes.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Goldie said. “Besides, I think Grammy sent Phyllis to check on me and bring back a thorough report. And if I know my grandmother and Phyllis, they probably tag-teamed my doctor to get the whole story on my injuries.”

“Are you sure you’re up to going home?”

“Oh, yes, I’m ready to get into my own bed.” She lifted up. “Let’s go to the desk and see where that nurse is.”

Rory helped her. “Are you still dizzy?”

“No. I think I just got up too quickly before. And we’re not telling the nurse about that little episode. It wasn’t the awful dizziness I had after the wreck. I have work to do and I need to get back to it.”

“Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about work. It’s the weekend.”

“I have a deadline,” she explained. “I write a syndicated advice column. It’s mostly about organizing your house and keeping your life straight—something I haven’t been doing lately. And I’m already pushing things with my boss by working long distance.”

Rory gained a new insight. “A column? That’s interesting.”

“Not as interesting as being a nuisance hunter,” she retorted, standing on wobbly legs.

Rory laughed at that. “We’ll have to compare notes on that some time. I could use tips on organization and keeping things straight and orderly in my life, that’s for sure.”

“And I’ve always wanted to track down an alligator and wrestle it until I can tie its mouth shut,” she teased.

Rory got a picture of this petite woman holding down a ten-foot reptile. It made him smile.

“Don’t think I can do it?” she asked as they made it out of her room.

“I have no doubt,” he replied, not willing to argue the point with an injured woman.

“And I think you’d be pretty good at doling out advice,” she replied. “At least, I think women would listen to you no matter what you say. They’d follow your advice based on your smile alone.”

That made him take notice. Giving her the best smile he could muster, he prompted, “So, you like my smile, huh?”

She laughed, a soft pink flush coloring her cheeks. “I do when I’m not seeing two of you.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just wish I hadn’t lost my locket. Let’s get out of here, though, so you don’t have to wait.”

“Not so fast, young lady.”

They turned to find her doctor and the nurse who’d been in her room trailing them down the hallway. “You need to be in this. Standard hospital policy.”

Goldie glared at the wheelchair. “Oh, all right.” Settling herself into the chair, she turned to the nurse. “Did you find my locket?”

“I’m afraid not, honey,” the nurse replied. “I’m sorry. Everything that came in with you should be in that bag the paramedics put your personal things in.”

Goldie clutched her purse and the plastic bag labeled with her name. “Maybe somebody dropped it in here and we just didn’t see it. It could be in the pocket of the jeans I was wearing yesterday.”

“We’ll look when we get you home,” Rory suggested, hoping to distract her from tossing out the contents of her purse and the bag right here. Or refusing to get home to some rest. She looked so upset, he wondered if she shouldn’t stay in the hospital another night.

She didn’t answer. She was too busy digging around in the deep recesses of her big leather purse, pulling out various labeled little sacks of all sorts. She had a bag for everything inside that larger bag. “I sure hope I can find it.”

“We’ll keep looking,” the nurse said, waving to them.

When they got outside, Goldie had that lost expression on her face again.

“They won’t find it,” she said. “Somebody probably stole it. It’s pretty valuable, considering how old it is. But I don’t care about how much money it can bring. I just want it back.”

Rory could understand her frustrations. And her disappointment. He hoped he could find that locket for Goldie, but he had his doubts, too. Even though it hadn’t snowed more than a couple of inches last night, a piece of jewelry could easily become lost in all the mush. He’d have to go over the yard and house with an eagle eye.

After getting Goldie into his car, Rory started out of the parking lot and onto the main highway. “So where did you live when you’re not in Viola?”

“Baton Rouge,” she answered, her gaze on the road. “Wow, I see patches of snow in the trees. And the ground is still covered. It’s so beautiful even if it does hurt my eyes.”

“It was pretty cold last night. Some of that could freeze up again later.” Trying to get to know her better, he continued, “And what did you do in Baton Rouge? I mean, how long have you been writing the column?”

“Since college,” she replied. Then she turned to look at him. “I went to school at LSU and got a degree in communication. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I had written a column for a school newspaper and that experience gave me a chance to write a column for a paper in Baton Rouge. Because my most popular columns were on organization and how to get your life on track, I got promoted to the lifestyles section and after three years, the column became regionally syndicated. But I do feature articles, advertorials and fillers, too. I don’t make a lot of money, but I enjoy my work. I’ve always been highly organized so it’s nice to use those skills in my job.”

“Kind of like that woman on television my mother likes so much. I can’t remember her name but she does a cooking show.”

Goldie knew of the woman in question. “No, more like a Southern version of the modern woman—you know, busy, stressed, working all the time both in the home and out of the home and needing to fold the laundry and cook a decent meal then finish studying a business report. I interview a lot of women to get the best tips.”

“My wife was like that,” he said, then wished he hadn’t mentioned Rachel. He didn’t like to talk about her.

Goldie gave him a nod. “Your home reflects that. I’m impressed that it was so neat.”

He shrugged. “My mom was over last night, cleaning for me. You should have seen it when I left yesterday morning.”

“Oh, your mother. Well, I’m sure she loves helping out.”

“She’s been a blessing…since…since Rachel died. She’s a big help with the house and the boys. I guess that works two ways since we lost my dad a year ago. She likes the company.”

“I’m sorry about your wife and your dad.” Goldie didn’t say anything else. She just stared out at the road ahead.

Thinking his past tragedies were sure a downer and not the best approach to impressing a woman, Rory was glad when they pulled up to her grandmother’s tiny brick house. He didn’t need to worry about impressing a woman, anyway. “I’ll help you get in and say hi to your grandmother.”

Goldie waited for him to come around the car then slowly lifted herself out to face him. “I might as well warn you, Rory. She’s gonna want you to stay and eat. But you don’t have to. That is, unless you want to, I mean.”

Rory smiled down at her, thinking soup and corn bread was mighty tempting right now. Especially if he’d get to sit across the table from Goldie.

Then he remembered his boys waiting at his mother’s house and he thought about Rachel, how much he still missed her, and he wondered why he was even thinking about another woman.

“I’d better get on home,” he told Goldie as he helped her up the two stone steps to the porch.

“Nonsense, Rory Branagan,” came the sweet but firm voice from inside the open door. Ruth stood there holding on to a walker. “After all you’ve done for Goldie, the least we can do is give you a good meal. Now come on in here and have some dinner. I insist.”

Rory looked from Goldie’s “I told you so” grin to Ruth Rios’s twinkling eyes and realized he was trapped between longing and duty. And that was not a good place for a man.

Or at least he didn’t think it was.

But he went into the house and shut the door anyway.