One Thing I Know

by Kara Isaac

  Lacey kneaded her bottom lip with her teeth. “She’s dying, Rach.”

  “Which is why I don’t do these ones!” She bolted up from the couch, slamming her palm against the cold wall.

  “No, I mean she’s dying dying. This was originally scheduled for next week, but I got a call from the station this morning. She’s been slipping in and out of consciousness the last few days; they’re not sure if she’ll even make it to tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Rachel forced a breath. “It’s okay. Donna will be done in fifteen minutes. Twenty max. She can call her then.”

  Lacey didn’t say anything.

  “What? You can’t be telling me they think she might die in the next fifteen minutes.” And if she was that close to death, wouldn’t she want those last moments with her kids? Not some stranger on the end of the phone, no matter who it was?

  “Noooooo.” Lacey dragged the word out. “But when I spoke to her hospice nurse a few minutes ago she seemed to think they didn’t have much time before she lapsed back into unconsciousness, and that she won’t wake up again once she does.”

  Tears tumbled down Rachel’s cheeks. Memories of her mother’s last few days, flitting between oblivion and the painful shackles of earth, assaulted her.

  Lacey held out the phone. “All she asks for when she wakes up is whether Dr. Donna is about to call. I’m so sorry, but please, Rachel, don’t do it for me, do it for Suzanne.”

  The phone burned into her palm, the numbers already lined up along the screen. Just waiting for her to hit the green button. She drew in a shuddering breath. “Tell me about her.”

  “Her name is Suzanne Moralis. She’s forty-four years old. Single mom with three kids.”

  “Names and ages?”

  Lacey looked at her iPad. “Tyler—fourteen, Izzie—twelve, Gabby—nine.”

  “Partner?”

  “Doesn’t say.”

  “What’s she got?”

  “Breast cancer. First diagnosed when she was thirty-five, went into remission, thought she’d beaten it, then it returned super aggressive just under a year ago.”

  The numbers on the screen taunted her. Could she do it? Put on Dr. Donna’s voice and talk a woman through some of her last moments of life?

  Her mom’s last wish had been to talk to her and she hadn’t gotten it. Rachel had found the string of missed calls from the hospice on her father’s phone the next day. Forced the truth out of a nurse who’d tried to protect her from what she’d missed.

  Even if it didn’t make any sense to her, was she really going to deny a dying woman her last wish? Especially when she had been haunted for years by the knowledge that her own mother had been denied hers?

  The room shouted with the force of the door hitting the wall. Her feet raced down the tunnel back to the set. Bursting out between studio audience stands, she stumbled for a second over the spaghetti of electrical cords, the bright lights blinding her.

  On the stage, Maggie was in full-on interview mode. Donna looked relaxed, while Lucas had the wild-eyed look of a raccoon caught in an electric fence.

  Someone grabbed at her elbow, but she shoved the person off with a shoulder move that would make a defensive coach proud.

  She took the steps to the stage before anyone else could stop her. Donna and Lucas’s stunned faces loomed closer.

  No doubt this would be the gossip of the week. Deranged assistant storms TV show filming.

  It didn’t even matter. None of it mattered. Except that somewhere out there three kids were about to lose their mom, and before she died she deserved a call from the real Dr. Donna—well, as real as she got. Not some imposter.

  Donna stood up, eyes locked on hers. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Rachel thrust the phone into her aunt’s hands. “I don’t do dying people.”

  • • •

  THE STUDIO was in an uproar. As Rachel had stormed the stage, Maggie had cut herself off mid-sentence. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, she’d lost all resemblance to convivial talk show host and started screaming about sacking the entire security team.

  Donna had gone into a quick huddle with Rachel and a very stressed-looking Lacey, then strode off down the tunnel with Lacey in tow.

  Rachel paced a path across sprawling camera cords, elbows poking out like she was doing the chicken dance, fingers digging into her scalp. From the time she had bolted from the tunnel clutching the phone like she was Jack Bauer in 24 and it was a nuclear bomb, everything kind of meshed into a distortion of sound and motion.

  I don’t do dying people. At least that’s what it had sounded like she’d said.

  He looked around. After all the drama she’d caused, she was alone. Whether by accident or design. Grabbing a bottle of water off a table, he ground to a halt a few feet away, seeing what he’d missed from the stage. Gray lines streaked the side of her face, evidence of tears shed.

  One foot shifted, then another. Crying women on radio he could handle. At least they were at the other end of the phone. He could be objective and not emotionally entangled. Now that he was here, she was the best way for him to achieve his dream.

  The way his heart thudded at each heave of Rachel’s shoulders skewered him with the knowledge he was deluding himself. His arms ached to pull her to him, cradle her to his chest and make everything okay.

  Shoot. He was in trouble bigger than Texas.

  “Is there anything I can do?” His words fell to the concrete floor. Inadequate. Pathetic.

  Her head jerked around, red-rimmed eyes wide with . . . what? A tangle of emotions raced across her face in a split second. She looked around, as if she had forgotten where they were. A look of horror rearranged her features. “Please tell me I didn’t do what I think I just did,” she said, waving a hand around the set.

  Lucas allowed his chin to dip. “The good news is at least it wasn’t live TV.”

  She groaned and collapsed into a vacant producer’s chair, burying her head in her hands.

  He crouched down so his face was level with hers. Her nose poked out between the gap of her shielding hands, just like Joey’s when he was counting down for hide-and-seek.

  His fingers flew out and pinched its tip. Oh dear Lord, he hadn’t just done that. He hadn’t just pulled the trick he used on his nephew on a crying woman. Was he crazy?

  Instead of using the moment to find out what was wrong, make sure she was okay, he’d poked Rachel in the face. Excellent work, Grant.

  Her hands fell away from her face and she stared at him, mouth an O like a clown at a fair. “Did you just . . . pinch my nose?”

  He bolted to his feet, hands shoved in his pockets, where they couldn’t get him into any more trouble. “Um, yes. Yes I did.” Heat seared up the back of his neck. What was it about this woman that turned him into a sixth grader? What would be next? Tugging on her ponytail?

  She swiped away the remaining tears on her cheeks as she hopped off the chair, landing only a foot or so away from him. A smile flickered at the edges of her lips, then a laugh bubbled out. “Is that the traditional way to charm women in Wisconsin?”

  He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He’d behaved like an absolute moron and she thought it was funny. What were the chances? “More like a Lucas Grant special.”

  “You are special, I’ll give you that.” Her tone was teasing, but there was something in her gaze that caused his heart to react like a bull out of the gate.

  His breath stalled, every atom in his body suddenly aware of how close she was. This couldn’t be happening. He was supposed to be trying to find out Donna’s alleged secret, not developing some ridiculous crush on her assistant! “Is everything okay?”

  She studied him for a second, as if measuring whether he was just being polite or actually wanted to know. A sigh escaped her, like a deflating balloon. “Yes, no . . .” She paused and frowned, as if trying to order her words. Gosh, she was cute when her brow wrinkled like one of those shar-pei dogs. Pay attention, Grant!
“Donna is involved with a charity that grants terminally ill people wishes. Sometimes they want to meet her. She was scheduled to meet this one lady next week, but they called to say she’s probably not going to make it.”

  “So that was you—”

  “Storming the stage and disrupting your interview to make Donna call her.” She finished his sentence with a grimace. “Sorry.”

  She bit her bottom lip and looked at him with pensive eyes, as though thinking he might be mad. Who had made her so afraid of doing the right thing? “This—” He gestured around them. “None of this really matters. You just made a dying woman’s wish come true. Don’t you dare apologize for that.”

  She smiled. “Okay then, I’m not sorry.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  The words hung in the air between them, as if suspended on the arc of electricity that seemed to fill the space. He couldn’t tear himself away from studying her unwavering gaze. Who was this girl who scattered his senses like dandelion tufts on the wind?

  Reality slammed into him a split second before he did something really stupid. “Well, I um, should be getting back.” He jerked his thumb in the general direction of the stage.

  She blinked, stepping back. “Yes, of course. I have some stuff I need to get done too.”

  He turned and walked away, his feet thudding against the hard floor in rhythm with his heart. He had to get it together. A relationship was the last thing he was interested in. And even if he was, Rachel was the last woman in the world he could even contemplate one with right now.

  - 21 -

  “Hi there. Reservation for Somers?” The waiflike hostess was so small, she had to stand beside the podium to be seen. Rachel glanced around the restaurant. Red and gold was the dominant theme. Bold lanterns hanging from the ceiling, wall hangings draping the elegant paneled walls.

  As long as she’d been working with Donna, she’d never known her to have a penchant for Thai food. But her aunt had announced she was in the mood to live daringly and so here they were. Or, rather, here she was.

  Shaking her watch free from under her gauzy olive-green sleeve, Rachel checked the time. Five past seven. Her aunt had texted saying she was running late, but ordering Rachel to be on time so their reservation wasn’t given away. Something about the restaurant being the latest big thing. Judging by the empty tables scattered around the room, someone had forgotten to tell the general public that.

  The hostess bowed, laminated menus clasped in her hand. Rachel hoped it wasn’t one of those newfangled fusion restaurants that would serve her panang up as deconstructed sushi. All she wanted was a simple, tasty curry.

  The hostess wafted her way around tables. Rachel had to weave her less delicate limbs between chairs and a stroller. Reaching the side of the room, the hostess gestured to a small curved leather booth, a single tea light flickering in the center of the table. Vertical slats wrapped around the booth, sheltering it from the rest of the restaurant.

  What a waste. This spot deserved to go to some smitten couple. Not to dinner for a more-than-middle-aged woman and someone who hadn’t been on a date since Obama was in the Oval Office.

  Rachel turned, mouth opening to suggest to the hostess that a perfectly average table would be fine, but she’d disappeared.

  Oh well. Good thing she loved her aunt, because she wasn’t the smallest woman in the world, so it was going to be an intimate dining experience.

  Shimmying between the table and the bench, she shrugged out of her coat, tucking it in between one of the slats and the edge of the seat, squishing her bag down on top.

  Ahhh. The soft leather enveloped her, cushioning her aching shoulders. If the food was as good as the seat, she was going to leave one happy customer.

  Rachel picked up a menu, scanning the wine list. If there was any day that deserved a glass, this was it. Thank goodness the second half of the filming had gone well. Donna, of course was a pro. But Lucas . . .

  Eyes the color of a Caribbean ocean flashed into her mind. Examining her as she’d retracted her apology. Lips so close that if she’d leaned forward—

  Her phone trilled, saving her from herself. She flicked it open. If Donna was more than five minutes away, appetizers would be ordered. She was starving.

  Sure enough, it was a text. Sry. Smthgs cm up. Cnt make it. Bt dnt wry, hve sub ;)

  What? She had Subway? As per usual, Donna’s inability to grasp text language required a clarifying phone call, defeating the whole point. Why would she have Subway when they had booked a perfectly nice restaurant?

  Rachel pressed Donna’s number and lifted her phone to her ear. It rang through to voicemail. What on earth was she up to? They needed to debrief. Especially after today. They hadn’t had a chance to after the debacle that was filming Hello LA! since Lacey had lined up more media for the rest of the afternoon. For some reason, people couldn’t get enough of the whole Feelings and Football thing.

  A judder of unease coursed through her. She had to find out what had tumbled out of her hysterical mouth when she stormed the stage. What if further damage control was needed to smooth over anything Lucas had overheard?

  After he’d gone back to the stage, she thought she’d managed to cover their tracks. Until she went to the restroom and discovered the snail trails of mascara streaking her cheeks. He was a smart guy. How could he not suspect that there was more to the story than a stranger on death’s door?

  She examined the text again. It wasn’t like her aunt to be so circumspect. What could have come up? They had nothing going on tonight. Lacey had something on for another client and Donna had said Lucas was catching up with a friend.

  Unless . . . maybe Rob had paid a surprise visit. A smile slipped up Rachel’s face. Her aunt’s second husband was the real deal. Between his stud ranch and Donna’s publicity circuit, they didn’t get to spend nearly enough time together. Oh well, good for them if he had managed to sneak away from the corral for a couple of days.

  But in the absence of a good man, she was going to have herself some good Thai.

  “Hi.” Rachel’s whole body froze. She didn’t even need to look up to know who was standing beside her. The shirt she’d gotten up close and personal with a few hours before was branded in her mind.

  Her aunt’s text hadn’t said Subway, it was substitute. She was going to kill her.

  “Hey.” Her voice sounded normal, at least.

  “So, um, where’s Donna?” He looked around, scanning the restaurant.

  “Not coming.” Rachel flattened both palms on the table, spreading her fingers and trying to ground herself. “It would appear that my meddling aunt has set us up.”

  A smile slid across his face. “Ahhhhh.” He didn’t look in the least bit surprised. “She’s really not a woman who gives up easily, is she?”

  “What do you mean?” Rachel picked up her bag and coat and moved them to the floor next to her.

  Lucas hesitated, then slid into the booth. Their knees touched. It was the best of two unthinkable options. The only way their knees couldn’t touch would be if they sat side by side. Or if they contorted their bodies at some ridiculous angles so that one set of limbs faced into the booth and one set faced out.

  Lucas cleared his throat. “So, what’s good here?”

  Rachel could tell a diversion when she saw one. The question was whether she was going to pursue it. Might as well know what it was. “What did she say?”

  Lucas took a drink of water.

  “C’mon, Lucas. If we’re going to be doing these events together for a couple of weeks, you might as well tell me now. Did she ask you if you have any single brothers? Friends you could set me up with?”

  The man cleared his throat as he set down his glass. “Actually, she asked me to take you out on a date.”

  She did not! That was brazen, even for Donna. No wonder the woman hadn’t shown up. She knew she would be facing death by chopsticks. “I’m sorry. Despite being a relationship expert, my aun
t sometimes flings herself over personal boundaries.”

  “Don’t worry about it. There are way worse things in life than Dr. Donna thinking you’re good enough for her niece.” He cast her a quick smile, then lifted his menu and studied the options.

  He shifted slightly, and now her right knee rested against his lower thigh. A hot flush crawled up her spine. Lucas’s lashes were so long they cast shadows on his cheeks as he studied the menu. His elbow rested on the table, thumb and pointer finger splayed across his cheeks as he pondered.

  She tried to drag her eyes back to her own menu, but they refused. Ruffled hair, firm forearms, a quirk of a smile. If she weren’t so mad at her aunt, she’d kiss her.

  What on earth was Donna doing? Did she want to ruin everything? One screw-up on her part and Lucas could unravel everything. Being a matchmaker was one thing. But with a guy who could bring their world crashing down? Certifiable.

  Not to mention the one guy who made her wish for everything that wasn’t possible.

  Her menu misted in front of her. She scrunched her eyes for a second, forcing the tears away.

  She had no right to tears. She’d chosen this. Earned it. Her father, for all his faults, deserved a better daughter. Instead he’d gotten one who’d left him to die in a gutter on a stormy night.

  “Rachel? You ready to order?” Lucas’s voice cut through her regrets.

  Her gaze skittered up to see the waitress tapping her pencil against her order book. “Um, yeah. Can I have the panang with chicken and a glass of Oyster Bay Sauvignon, please?”

  Pencil scratched across paper as Lucas added his order, then the waitress disappeared.

  Rachel searched her mind for something, anything, to take her focus off Lucas’s close proximity. “So how did it go today?” Why would she even ask that? What could he say? Well, it was all going really well until this mentally unstable woman stormed the stage and ruined the interview?

  A slow smile eased across his face. “You’re the pro. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  Okay. Well, if he wasn’t going to mention the elephant in the restaurant, she’d play along. “You did great.” She couldn’t exactly admit that for the last half of the interview her mind had been lingering on how good it had felt to be so close to him. But what she had seen had been surprisingly smooth. “You never would’ve known it was your first TV show.”