Читать книгу My True Cowboy - Shelley Galloway - Страница 8

Two days later, Susan was back at work and was dividing her time between performance evaluations, hiring teenagers to work as servers in the dining room and listening to way too many complaints about other coworkers.

Now, with just one hour left of her day, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was time to play gin rummy with Rosa Ventura. After a brief knock at her partially open door, she peeked into her room. “Want to play cards today, Mrs. Ventura?”

The older woman, confined to a wheelchair for most of the last three years, looked up from the pile of newspapers by her side. “Who’s playing?”

“Just me.”

She looked Susan over, the way she always did, as if trying to determine if she was a worthy opponent. “All right, I guess. Care to bet?”

“Of course.” Susan shook the Mason jar of pennies she’d just fished out of her locker. “I came prepared.”

“If you can get a table away from that crazy Stan and find us two cups of coffee, I’ll meet you in the main room in five minutes.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said with a smile. She didn’t need to ask who Stan was. The man who’d lost a leg in World War II and his pleasant disposition around 1972 was Rosa’s archenemy at the retirement home. The two disagreed on just about everything, but couldn’t seem to help egging each other on.

Susan had a feeling there was more to their relationship than simple dislike. After all, never were the disagreements about anything too meaningful. Yesterday an argument had erupted about the original seven Crayola colors. Last week it was the order of the first twenty presidents of the United States. That one had gotten so noisy Susan had been called in to mediate … and then had gotten a pounding from both of them when she admitted she’d never memorized all the presidents’ names.

Most staff members were afraid of both Stan and Rosa. Susan agreed each was intimidating in his or her own way. But, well, she’d been through harder things, so she took their behavior in stride.

Susan shook her head as she entered the large community room of the Electra Lodge. She really would have thought at this point in their lives the two of them would have learned that there were far more important things to worry about.

She sure did. Every fifteen minutes, she’d been checking to see if the lab at the hospital had called and left a message. The wait for Hank’s latest test results seemed to be taking forever. His insulin levels were high, so she was going to need to readjust his diet and medication once again.

At home, she was trying to put a positive spin on things. However, the reality was that she was still feeling guilty for Hank even having diabetes in the first place. No matter how many doctors or nurses said it had nothing to do with his lifestyle or diet, Susan was sure her crazy work schedule and single parenting was at fault.

After claiming the back game table, Susan pulled out the deck of cards and set her jar down. She’d just filled two coffee cups when Kay Lawson, her boss, stepped in.

“How are things going today, Susan?”

“Just fine. Mrs. Ventura and I are about to play cards.”

“Uh-oh. I have a feeling you’re about to get soundly beaten. Again. Didn’t I see the two of you playing cards yesterday?”

“Yes. We are having ourselves a rematch.”

Kay grinned as she looked at her notebook. “Already I can’t imagine what we would do without you here. You’ve sure livened things up.”

“I try.” Not wanting her boss to think she hadn’t been doing her real job, too, she said, “I put a report on your desk about the new hires for the dining room.”

“I saw it. Thank you.”

“And I think the nurses on the second floor have figured out their schedules now.”

Kay patted Susan’s shoulder. “I didn’t stop by to check on you. Just to say hello.”

Susan bit her lip. Once again, she was letting her experience with the administrator in Ohio cloud her relationship with Kay.

When her old boss had hired her, she had seemed to have no problem with Susan. However, soon afterward, Susan felt as though she’d somehow landed on the director’s bad side.

She’d begun to get reprimanded for not putting in enough hours, though she already worked more than the forty hours in her contract. Then other minor offenses had been written down.

Finally, Susan had known it was time to move on. She’d been very thankful when the employment recruiter had told her about Kay Lawson and the Electra Lodge. Against her family’s wishes and Hank’s complaints, they’d moved away from the big city and to the small Texas town.

And she’d been right. Things here really were better, work wise. Kay was a dream to work for, polite and dedicated, and appreciative of Susan’s efforts.

It was just that everything else in Electra wasn’t so hot. Hank wasn’t making a lot of friends at school, and was already complaining about after-school day care.

And then there was the hospital. Everything just seemed to move at a slower pace. She was constantly waiting for test results or for nurses to call her back with answers to her questions.

“Well, good luck with the game,” Kay said, bringing Susan back to the present. “Who knows? Maybe someone will want to take Rosa on besides you.”

“I doubt that.” There wasn’t a person in the home who wanted to play cutthroat gin rummy the way she and Rosa Ventura did.

Just as Kay walked away, Susan spied the topic of their conversation at the entrance to the room. “I’ve got us a spot over here,” Susan said brightly. “Let’s get started.”

Rosa wheeled her way to the back table. As soon as they were in whispering distance, she murmured, “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, sure. She was just checking in.”

“You looked so serious. For a moment I was worried that it was about your son.”

“It really was nothing. Hank’s doing okay.”

Rosa rubbed her hands together. “All righty, then. Let’s get started before Stan comes around.”

“Yes, let’s definitely do that.”

As Rosa started dealing, the elderly lady looked Susan up and down. “Are you sure you’re all right? Something about you looks different today.”

“I’m fine.” She picked up her cards. “Let’s just concentrate on our hands, shall we?”

But instead of accepting Susan’s efforts to move them on, the older lady grimaced. “Don’t you start talking to me like I don’t have a brain in my head, Susan Young.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“You better not, you hear me? You’re one of the few people in this place who treats me like I still have my wits about me. A couple of the nurses here talk to me like I’m in kindergarten. Yesterday, at dinner, one of them asked if I needed help cutting my chicken.”

Susan hid a smile at that. She wouldn’t dare ask Rosa if she needed help cutting meat. At least, she wouldn’t if there was a knife nearby!

As she sat across from her at the card table, Susan fiddled with her cards. “Just so you know, I really do like playing cards with you. I don’t look at it as a task. I promise I don’t.”

Reaching out, the elderly woman patted Susan’s arm. “I know, honey. Now, let’s play before I lose my eyesight.”

They ended up playing four games over the next hour. Susan won a hand, Rosa won the next two, and as they played the fourth round, the tension between them intensified as their competitive spirits took control. As always, they concentrated on their latest cards as if their lives depended on it. A little crowd gathered around and cheered them on.

Susan was just about to draw another card when Rosa called out, “Gin!” and slapped her cards on the table victoriously.

Susan leaned back against her chair and sighed. “One day I’m going to beat you, fair and square.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Rosa retorted, but there was a bright light in her eyes that hadn’t been there when Susan arrived. “Same time tomorrow?”

“I don’t know if I can. I have some work I need to do on the computer that might take a while.”

“Friday?”

“I can’t Friday, either. I’m, uh, taking the day off.”

“Susan Young, I know it’s Labor Day weekend, but are you taking vacation already? Or are you finally going to tell me what’s got you so stressed and worried?”

“I’m not taking vacation….” Though she was tempted to leave it at that, the concern in Rosa’s eyes practically asked her to share. “But I am kind of stressed today. You were right about that. And it actually does have to do with my son,” she said as the rest of the residents drifted away.

“Has he gotten worse?”

“I’m not sure. He’s been getting low a lot, which means his blood sugar’s been taking nosedives. I just found out that he’s going to have to go back to the hospital for another round of tests,” she said slowly. “But I’ll play on Monday. Kay should be fine with that.” Though it was a school holiday for Hank, she hadn’t even thought about asking for the day off.

For a moment, Rosa’s eyes softened. “That’s fine, Susan. We’ll see each other on Monday. No problem.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Mind if I give you a piece of advice?”

She shook her head.

“You put that boy of yours first, every single day. A mother’s duty is more important than any job.”

“I know that. But it doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Bills will get paid—they always do, sooner or later. But you can’t get days missed back. I can promise you that.”

Susan would have hugged the lady if she was the kind of person who hugged. “Thanks, Mrs. Ventura.”

The older woman waved Susan off with a hand. “We don’t need a scene now. Now, you best go mill around and chat with the rest of the folks here. The last thing you need is the dragon lady to fuss at you again.”

Doing her best not to chuckle at the name, Susan stood up. “Thanks, I will.”

“And, Susan?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“That Stan is sitting over there by himself, struggling with his crossword again. Why don’t you go see if he needs some help. He almost always does. He’s not too smart, you know.”

“I’ll go do that right now.”

ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Cal was sipping a Coke from the machine and trying to determine how many cattle they should plan to take to market, when two people he hoped never to see again in his lifetime appeared down the hall. The smaller of the pair scampered over.

“Hi, Mr. Riddell. It’s me, Hank.”

Seeing them only made him recall being a complete and total jackass. Holding out his hand, he shook Hank’s. “Hey, buddy. How are y’all doing?”

“Not so good,” Hank said as his mother approached and stood right behind him. “We’re here. Again.”

Susan patted her son’s shoulder. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“In that case, I’m sorry to see you.” When her eyes narrowed, he silently groaned. Was he ever going to be able to have a conversation with her without sticking his foot in the middle of it? “What I meant to say was, I thought this place would have been just a memory for y’all by now.”

Hank answered for the still-silent Susan. “Well … we were home, but now we’re back. I’m getting tests again, aren’t I, Mom?”

“Tests?” A strange sensation burned the back of his neck, reminding him that he hadn’t spared a thought about why Hank was getting stuck so much.

“Yes. More tests.” Susan nodded, punctuating the gesture with a smile that didn’t come close to meeting her eyes. “Excuse us. We need to be on our way, as well.”

Now he felt even lower than a snake’s belly. Just because he was in a permanent bad mood, it didn’t mean he had to take it out on innocent women and children. “About the other day—I’m sorry if I was a bit abrupt.”

“A bit?”

“A lot. This thing with my dad, it’s brought out the worst in me. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “And, Hank, you’re right. I shouldn’t have said shut up to you.”

Hank grinned, showing a wide gap where an incisor used to be. “S’okay.”

For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to respond. Then, ever so slowly, she nodded. “Apology accepted. Now, we really need to be on our way.”

Just as she passed, Cal smelled gardenias again. Gardenias and something spicy underneath. For too long, his gaze tarried on that auburn hair of hers, wondering how a person could manage so much of it … when he met the boy’s eyes.

“Hank, are you ready?” a nurse asked as he approached.

“Sure.” Hank grimaced. “Sorry, but I’ve gotta go. I’ve got to go pee in a cup.”

“Good luck with that.”

Hank grinned. “Thanks,” he said as the nurse escorted him down the hall. “See ya, Mom.”

“Okay.” She smiled at him and the nurse until they were out of sight. Only then did the full extent of her worries cross her face.

Making Cal feel another tug toward her. As he knew from his experience with his little sister, Ginny, nothing was harder than worrying about the health of a child. “Well, ma’am. You take care now, Susan,” he said, nodding as he stepped away.

“Wait.” She swallowed. “I forgot to ask. How’s your father?”

“Truth is, I don’t know. His double bypass ended up being a triple and, as you can imagine, he’s having quite a time.”

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“Thank you.” Unbidden, a lump formed in his throat. His father’s operation had felt never ending. And he’d looked so pale and lifeless in the recovery room, tears had formed in Cal’s eyes. Now he was waiting for more information, but he was having to wait and wait for answers—something that rarely happened in his life. Usually the Riddell name got things done.

“How old is he?”

“Sixty-two.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Too young for the condition his heart was in, I’m afraid. And, of course, he’s not afraid to complain loudly and, uh, colorfully. The air’s pretty blue.”

Again she surprised him by laughing. “I work at the Electra Lodge, so I know all about ornery senior citizens. By the time folks get to be a certain age, they seem to have decided that watching their tongue is overrated.”

Her words surprised a chuckle. “They might be right about that. My dad now says whatever’s on his mind. No filters. It’s all I can do to shield my poor sister’s ears.”

“Sister?”

“Ginny. She’s only six.” When she blinked in surprise, Cal decided to do some explaining. “My father, he was remarried for a time.”

“Oh, my.”

“Yeah, we were shocked to silence when she came along, too.” They’d been really shocked when Ginny’s mother, Carolyn, decided to take off without a backward glance.

Again, pain from the past threatened to reach out and strangle him. Seeing his dad so sick reminded him of his mother getting cancer. Thinking about his sister spurred a memory of their father trying to explain to him and his brothers why his new wife had left.

He cleared his throat. “I better get going. If my dad’s awake, he’s likely to be causing some poor nurse to blush. Saying he cusses like a sailor is pretty much an understatement.”

Susan murmured, “Don’t be too tough on him. Bodies don’t recover easily at that age.”

“I guess you see that a lot at work?”

“Uh-huh. It’s not just a retirement home, you know. The full name of the place is Electra Lodge and Rehabilitation Center.”

She sounded like an advertisement. “I’ve driven by it. It, uh, looks like a nice place.” He’d passed by the redbrick building often but had never gone in. “Is it?”

“I think so. Though, I’m kind of new.”

“Ah.” As he eyed her full lips again, Cal knew something bad was happening to him. He was starting to think about her as a woman instead of someone really irritating.

He wasn’t pleased.

Fact was, he couldn’t recall ever meeting another woman who’d gotten him so hot and bothered so fast. Well, not since Christy—and he’d thought no one would piss him off the way she could. Just the memory of her deceitfulness created a hurt in his belly that no amount of Rolaids could ever cure.

And now Susan was making him feel that same odd combination of irritation and desire.

He didn’t appreciate it. He had a million other things on his mind, the most important of which was lying in one of the rooms on the third floor.

So how come he’d been finding ways to sneak glances at the way her hips curved out in a completely feminine, pleasing way? How come he was noticing the way the ivory skin of her neck contrasted so well with the dark auburn hair floating halfway down her back? How come he was kind of hoping she’d smile again his way?

He scrambled for something to say. “So … are you planning to stay here for a while?”

“I hope so. I just got the job.”

“No. I mean here at the hospital.”

“Here? Oh, no. We really need to get a handle on this diabetes stuff so I can get back to work.”

“Diabetes?” Cal struggled to recall what he knew about the disease, to show that he wasn’t completely self-centered. “Isn’t your boy kind of young for that?”

“It’s type 1. You know, juvenile diabetes.” When he couldn’t help but stare at her blankly, she added, “It does hit juveniles, you know. He’s young enough for that.”

Cal tried to recall some article he’d read in the dentist’s waiting room. “Don’t you get diabetes from a poor diet or something? You know, you probably shouldn’t be letting him eat hot dogs.”

In an instant, all traces of friendliness vanished. Pure loathing lashed out at him. “For your information, Mr. Riddell, type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune disease. You can’t ‘get it’ from hot dogs.”

Crap. “Oh. I’m—”

“What? You’re a genius at diseases because you’re standing in a hospital?” she interrupted. “You know what? I think I liked you better when you stuck to one-word answers.”

Cal almost tried to explain himself again, but he felt like a fool. And he really hated feeling like a fool.

Instead, he opted for just standing there as she sashayed down the hall, pushed the elevator button and waited for the doors to open.

And waited.

As she stood and fumed—and as he watched her fume—Cal knew he should do something. The right thing to do would be to go up to her and apologize. Again. No woman wanted to hear anything bad about her mothering skills.

But memories of getting burned ran deep. Long ago, Christy had made such a laughingstock out of him that he’d quit the rodeo circuit.

For months, all everyone and their brother talked about was how he’d been whipped well and good by a tiny gal from Texarkana.

So self-preservation kicked in. The better thing to do was to keep himself still. Distant. Then he wouldn’t get hurt.

He didn’t move a muscle until those elevator doors closed behind her.