by Jenny Jacobs
She eyed the back of Peter’s head. Although he wasn’t the most voluble person she’d ever met, he did occasionally come across with useful information. Maybe she could get something out of him. It would have to be easier than getting something out of Jordan. If she knew a few facts about Jordan, her job would be simpler. Though it seemed obvious to her now that anyone — like Mrs. Matthews — would be able to guess that she and Jordan were practically strangers. Well, Gran and Gramps had been practically strangers, too, so it wasn’t impossible that they’d fallen for each other, just highly unlikely.
“I wonder why his stepfather wasn’t here tonight,” she said, not really asking a question but not averse to getting an answer either, should Peter care to supply one. “She goes in for surgery first thing in the morning, doesn’t she?”
“He must have known Mr. Blaise was coming,” Peter said. “Those two don’t get along.”
Sadie had guessed as much. “You’d think they’d set it aside for Mrs. Matthews’ sake,” she tried but Peter only grunted and she guessed that line of not-quite-questioning was over.
Then Jordan was sliding into the seat next to her and she realized what had shut Peter’s mouth. At least one of them was paying attention to their surroundings. Jordan had his cell phone out and he was talking about some laboratory equipment that was balking at doing what it was supposed to do. From his manner, you’d never think he was desperately worried about his mother. You’d never think he’d just shared a hot kiss with Sadie.
Sadie sighed and wished she’d brought a book. Next time, she’d remember. Peter steered the car into the traffic, attentive, competent. She watched as the streets slipped by. The sun was low in the western sky, though she wouldn’t be able to see much of a sunset in the middle of the city. It would probably be dark, or close to it, by the time they reached the hotel. The nighttime world had always interested her, as long as it stayed on the other side of the glass. Despite her daytime desire for adventure, at night she liked to be safe, secure, behind locked doors, a good book in hand. Gram always clucked and said it was because she’d lost her parents so young and that would make anyone crave safety, but Sadie wasn’t sure it had anything to do with life experience. Some people were just made that way. She was one of them, and very happy with it most of the time. Except when it had been raining for three straight days.
“She’ll have surgery first thing in the morning,” Jordan was saying and it took Sadie a moment to realize that he’d put his phone away (finally) and was talking to her.
“Yes, you mentioned that.” She wasn’t quite sure what he wanted from her.
“The hospital will call me when she’s out of the recovery room.” He ran a hand through his hair and not for the first time she practically had to sit on her hands to resist the urge to smooth it down for him. “I have meetings all morning but I’ll come by and see how she’s doing as soon as I get the news. You don’t have to come with me then. I may bring you back tomorrow in the early evening, just to say hello, if I think she’s up to it.”
Will there be kissing? She reminded herself that he was talking about something serious, but her libido didn’t care. She reminded it sternly about her promise to herself. There would be no kissing, no emotional availability. She would just play a role to the best of her ability.
“That’ll be fine,” she said and thought about what she could do in New York — New York! — during the day. There was the public library, and the Met with all of its centuries of art on display. Aunt Gertrude would expect photographs of the Empire State Building. Then Chinatown and maybe some dim sum. And of course she couldn’t miss the Strand —
Then she thought of Elaine Matthews all alone on the morning of her surgery. Well, that was that nature of illness and disease. You did so much of it alone. Although Mrs. Matthews wouldn’t be all alone, would she? Even if Jordan weren’t there, she’d have her husband there. Wouldn’t she? Surely?
Sadie stared out the car window as Jordan took out his phone and used his thumb to punch in another number. She was beginning to have fantasies about shoving the phone down a garbage chute.
In Cedar Valley, Mrs. Matthews wouldn’t be alone. People might make fun of small towns for being provincial, and of course, they could be, but people took care of each other there. Adventures were all well and good, but there was something magical about being home.
Chapter Five
Sadie had gotten up at an unreasonably early hour to see Mrs. Matthews — whom she tried, and failed, to think of as Elaine — before they prepped her for morning surgery. Now she stepped out of the elevator and walked over to the nurses’ station. It wasn’t official visiting hours yet, but her experience when Gran died showed her that exceptions could often be made, especially if you were polite and didn’t assume.
“Can I just peek in to say hello to Mrs. Matthews before she goes down to surgery?”
“That’ll be fine,” the nurse said, barely looking up from her computer. A doctor on rounds came by to ask the nurse a question and Sadie went down the hall to Mrs. Matthews’ room. She knocked on the door and announced herself before stepping inside. Mrs. Matthews was watching the morning news, still in her own nightgown and robe, the remote in her lap. She was alone.
“Hi,” Sadie said, suddenly feeling ridiculous. No one had invited her to be here, least of all Mrs. Matthews. Maybe she preferred having the time to herself. Everyone was different, so just because Sadie would welcome company didn’t mean everyone would. “I know Jordan has meetings this morning and I guessed Mr. Matthews would, too. So I just thought I’d stop in and see how you’re doing.”
Mrs. Matthews gave her a calm, fathomless look. Sadie knew she was babbling but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“I get really nervous before things like this,” she went on. “Not that I’ve ever had cancer or have any idea what you’re going through. But I get nervous and I thought maybe you might, too, and, you know, maybe if you’d like to, we could talk about it.” A glance at Mrs. Matthews’ expressionless face showed her how unlikely that was. “Or I could just keep you company until it’s time. Waiting is the hardest part.”
Still Mrs. Matthews didn’t say anything.
“Of course, some people like to be alone with their thoughts,” Sadie said desperately, wringing her hands together. When Jordan found out that she’d bothered his mother, he’d probably hit the roof. Which reminded her of Aunt Gertrude’s roof. Which wouldn’t be replaced any time soon if she didn’t pull this off. Which meant not doing stupid things on impulse. Sadie took a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Mrs. Matthews cleared her throat. “No. You don’t need to go.”
“Okay.” Sadie stood awkwardly by the door. Now what?
Mrs. Matthews smiled faintly and said, “You can pull that chair up.”
“Oh. Okay.” Great. Now she ran out of words.
“What do your parents do?” Mrs. Matthews asked politely, switching off the television. Sadie smiled. That reminded her of Gran, who respected young women in careers but never really expected them to have one. And, Sadie knew, establishing one’s bona fides was important in Mrs. Matthews’ world — and Sadie’s as well, really, just in a different way. Hadn’t she asked Peter to give an endorsement of Jordan?
“My parents died when I was a baby,” she explained. “I was raised by my mother’s parents. My father’s parents died a few years before he did.”
“And your grandparents? They are also gone?”
“Yes.” She hesitated and said, “I have a great-aunt, Gertrude. She lives in Cedar Valley, too. We have dinner every Sunday, same as when Gran and Gramps were alive.” There. She’d found her voice and was using it to utter inanities.
Mrs. Matthews smiled. “A family dinner? How nice. I used to try that.” Her smile faltered and she looked down at the remote in her hands. She si
ghed and set it on the table by the bed.
So. Wasn’t this awkward. Sadie saw that Mrs. Matthews’ hands were pleating the coverlet restlessly, anxiously. Her beautifully manicured and cared-for hands shook.
Without thinking, Sadie reached across the covers and took her hand. Mrs. Matthews gave her a startled smile. “The waiting is the hardest part,” the older woman admitted.
Sadie’s lips tightened. Why couldn’t her husband or son be here? Maybe she hadn’t asked them to share the waiting, but still. It didn’t seem right. She shouldn’t have to ask. She shouldn’t have to be alone if she didn’t want to.
“I’ll wait with you,” Sadie said. “And I’ll wait during surgery. Just so you know someone will be here. I’ll wait until you’re in recovery and Jordan gets here.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Sadie shrugged. “I have a book I’ve been wanting to read.”
Mrs. Matthews gave a short bark of laughter. “My God, I’ve forgotten your name. I was so surprised last night. It is so unlike Jordan that I simply wasn’t concentrating when he introduced you.”
“Sadie,” she said. “Sadie Rose Perkins.”
“That’s right. He called you Sadie-belle. Why does he do that?”
“No idea,” Sadie said.
• • •
When the aides came in to take Mrs. Mathews down to the operating room, Sadie gave the older woman a kiss on her cheek and squeezed her hand, feeling glad she’d come. Then she went to the visitors’ waiting room.
As the morning wore on, other families joined her in the room, their faces tense and worried. In a way, it hurt to look at them. She wasn’t waiting for news of a loved one. Certainly she wanted Mrs. Matthews to do well, but she was little more than a stranger to Sadie. For these people, someone dear to them was in danger. She remembered what that was like from when Gran was in the hospital. She wished someone who cared for Mrs. Matthews were here. That would make all the difference.
The only reason Sadie was here was because she was getting paid. Okay, she wasn’t getting paid to do this, exactly, but the fact that she was getting paid at all suddenly seemed distasteful. She shifted in her chair. Why had she thought it seemed like a good idea? Or like it could possibly be an adventure?
She sighed and turned back to her book. What was the point in getting squeamish now?
A shadow fell across the page she was staring at but not seeing. She glanced up to see Jordan looming over her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, dropping into the chair next to her. He seemed suspicious, like she might haunt hospital waiting rooms in her spare time for some ulterior motive he couldn’t quite guess.
“I came this morning,” she said, closing her book. She wasn’t able to concentrate anyway. “I don’t know. I felt bad that she didn’t have anyone here.” The minute she said it, she wished she hadn’t tried to explain.
Jordan’s face closed down and his hands tightened into fists. He leaned forward in his chair. “She said she wanted to be alone.”
Sadie imagined she had. She gave Jordan a sympathetic look, not that he noticed, and chose her words carefully. “She couldn’t have both of you here and she didn’t want to have to choose. She’d rather be alone than do that.”
He flinched, like she’d slapped him. She supposed she had. Then his lips thinned and he said, “I try — ”
“I’m not saying you don’t try,” she interrupted. It wasn’t her place to tell him what or what not to do, but now that she’d started she had to end it — and quickly, if possible. “I’m not even saying you should try. All I’m saying is you need to give your mother permission to need him. And not feel like she’ll sacrifice you by doing so.”
She sucked a breath in, knowing she’d gone a bit too far, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. His face had gone white, and his silence was more reproachful than any angry words might have been. His silence had a shape, a substance. She was starting to think she should never have left Cedar Valley.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “You don’t need a lecture from me.”
His jaw worked. She supposed he was trying to figure out how to say what he had to say without raising his voice, considering where they were.
“That was inappropriate and not good timing,” she added, touching his hand.
She watched his tense face, the shadows under his eyes. What made her think she had any right to interfere? Or that anything she said would do any good? She’d just cause a lot of hurt feelings if she tried. She certainly wasn’t going to be here long enough to help him figure anything out. He wouldn’t want her to, anyway. Her stomach churned as the silence lengthened.
Finally, he said, “I’d rather people say what they have to say.”
Sadie would have found it more convincing if he hadn’t had to force the statement through gritted teeth.
“Then you’ve come to the right place,” she said, hoping a light-hearted tone could smooth things over, knowing it couldn’t. “I’m a blurter.”
Thankfully, before she could do anymore damage, a nurse came into the waiting room. “Matthews family?” Sadie patted Jordan’s back and he went to see his mother.
• • •
You need to give your mother permission to need him. And not feel like she’ll sacrifice you by doing so.
If only it was as easy as that, like all it required was a handshake with Randall and a hug with his mother and everything would be fine. Everything hadn’t been fine in a very long time.
Jordan followed the nurse down the hallway to the recovery room. When he reached his mother’s gurney, his heart skipped painfully. She looked so pale and fragile, her spirit a candle so easily snuffed out. The sight of his mother’s pale face etched with pain as she drifted in and out of consciousness, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to focus on him, was like a knife in his gut. He was going to lose her. He had never really felt like he’d had her at all.
The surgeon had come over and was saying something to him. He could hear the words but somehow they weren’t making any sense. He wished Sadie were here. She would listen for him. Why had he left her in the waiting room? She didn’t do any good for him there.
Finally, the surgeon nodded and walked off. Jordan leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. This time when she lifted her lids, she held them open to look at him. He could see the great effort it required. She shifted and made a groan that sliced straight to his heart.
“Let me help,” he said, but she made a weak gesture with her hand and he backed away as she lay against the pillow.
“Where’s Sadie?” she whispered, her voice cracking. Jordan glanced around for the nurse, then asked her if it was okay for his mother to sip a bit of water from a cup. When she told him it was, he helped his mother wet her lips a little. Then she leaned against the pillows with a sigh.
“Where?” his mother said again.
“She’s in the waiting room.”
His mother nodded and let her eyes close, abandoning the effort. “She said she’d wait.”
“And she did,” Jordan said, the words coming out clipped. How had Sadie known what his mother needed more than he did?
“Bring her later,” his mother said, and he squeezed her hand gently.
• • •
Jordan stood there in the doorway of the waiting room with his hands in his pockets. Sadie was reminded of the serious little boy he had once been. Even though she hadn’t known him then, she could still picture him and she wished she couldn’t. He seemed just as alone now as he must have felt then, when Randall Matthews had swept into his mother’s life, making her his wife and ignoring him, treating him like a minor inconvenience. It didn’t matter how many employees or business associates he had, Jordan was still alone in that fundamental and heart-breaking way.
She got
to her feet, then reached up and gave him a hug, her arms circling around his neck, which required her to go up on her tiptoes. Shorter men were easier to embrace. Maybe she’d add that to her list of what she wanted in The One.
Then his hands came out of his pockets and he bent down and met her halfway and that was nice, not having to do all the work for once. She relaxed into him a little. Just a little.
She meant the hug to be a friendly gesture. She had sworn off kissing him because that was too dangerous for her heart. And they weren’t trying to convince these waiting room spectators of anything, so it didn’t need to be part of the show. It was just friendly. Employee-employer, that was all. Though it was true she’d never hugged a boss or an employee before. Sometimes she gave Katie a high-five. That was almost the same as this. Right?
He smelled spicy and male, which made her scootch a little closer. His arms were tight around her. His breath came steadily and his heart thudded in a reassuring way. So she wasn’t making his heart race, or anything, and that was good. That was perfect, because it meant this was just friendly for him, too.
It was ridiculous for her to feel held by him, cared for by him, soothed by him when she was doing the hugging and he was the one in emotional distress. Or, if not in emotional distress, then at least under strain, with lots of worry. But she felt a lot better now than she had a minute ago.
It seemed so natural, the way he bent down, like he would always meet her halfway, he would always help her reach. She never wanted him to let her go. But he did, eventually, easing up a little at first instead of abruptly releasing her, which she appreciated and thought showed some class. Then it was easy — or at least not impossibly hard — to let him go. She stepped back and said, “Is she doing okay?”
He nodded. “The surgeon said something about the operation being successful but they were going to have to do more tests. She was awake when I saw her and she seemed okay.”