Nick took a step forward. Over the years Hope had seen him in countless interviews and never once had he looked nervous. But now, he looked as tense and unsure of himself as one of her high school kids standing before the class for the first time, reciting Shakespeare. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
The irony of his words weren’t lost on Hope.
Susan was just as jittery as Nick. “I . . . um. Yeah. Wow. You’re Nick Fortune. I’ve seen your picture. Seen you on TV.” She scuffed her slippered foot against the cement floor. “You know Mom?”
Why hadn’t Hope thought of this? Of course Susan recognized Nick.
Susan glanced down, caught sight of her pajamas. Embarrassment burned her cheeks. “I gotta go.” Without another word, she disappeared through the garage door that led into the kitchen.
Nick stood rooted to his spot, staring at the door Susan had disappeared through. “She has your eyes.”
A stillness invaded Hope. “And my stubbornness.”
“As I recall, it was your mother who had the stubborn streak.”
At the mention of Claire, a tightening formed in the pit of Hope’s stomach. What her mother had was a lot stronger than stubbornness.
“It’s not just her eyes,” Nick finally said, slowly turning to face her. He shoved his hands down the front pocket of his jeans, his thumbs out. “She has your hair, your nose, your small hands. And probably your same tiny feet, but I couldn’t tell in those slippers.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “She also sounds just like you, too.”
“You only heard her say a couple of words.”
“No, I didn’t.” His gaze was steadfast on hers.
He’d been listening to them. Standing outside her garage, watching them.
Nick let out a breath, as if he’d been holding it a long time, then ran a hand across his face. “I wasn’t prepared, I mean, I’d seen her picture, but—” He looked directly at Hope again. “I can’t get over how much she reminds me of you.”
Hope didn’t know what to say to that. If it had been someone else—anyone else—she would have told them of the time when she’d answered the phone and Susan’s then-boyfriend, Kyle, had confused the two of them. By the time Hope could interject and clarify the mistake, they’d both been a little embarrassed. Now, it was something they joked about.
It was a small thing, a memory so insignificant only a family member would recall it. But even though those tiny moments by themselves didn’t seem to amount to much, they added up and, slowly, year after year, became the thread that bound lives together. For some reason, Hope didn’t want to share it with Nick.
Nick looked back to the door.
To anyone else, he appeared invincible standing there in her garage, his shoulders squared, his feet planted firmly on the ground. But Hope wasn’t anyone else. Even with the passage of so many years, some things didn’t change and some things you didn’t forget. Right now, the way Nick was standing so stiffly erect, as if he were impenetrable, was exactly the same way he had looked when his father would come stumbling into school, yelling at the top of his drunk lungs for his no-good-bastard-of-a-son to get his ass out here. And school hadn’t been the only place it happened. It was one of the reasons the locals had stopped hiring Nick. Not because he wasn’t the best worker they’d ever had, but because of his father.
“She’s nearly sixteen and you caught her in her pajamas,” Hope explained, answering his unspoken question. “That’s why she ran off so quickly.”
His relief was barely perceptible, an ever-so-slight loosening of his shoulders, a minuscule shift that eased some of the tension from his body, but she saw it nonetheless. And seeing it sparked her anger. Even after so many years she was still attuned to his every nuance while he didn’t know a thing about her. “Why are you here, Nick? Have you heard anything?”
“No. It’s still too soon.”
Hope had known that, but she still had to ask the question.
“Dr. Brandt knows how to reach me when the results come in. Now all there is to do is wait.”
“I’ve never been good at waiting.”
“Yeah, neither have I.”
Hope’s nerves were getting the best of her, tying her up in knots. “You didn’t answer my other question. Why are you here?”
“I’d think that was obvious.”
“What’s obvious is that we were going to meet at the hospital.”
“We landed early,” was his only explanation. He walked away from her and over to the opened hood. “I see you still know how to work on cars.”
She glared at him. Didn’t he understand how just showing up upset her whole balance? She wasn’t ready—she wasn’t prepared. She needed to be on solid footing when confronted with Nick. Having him catch her off guard, under the hood of a car, in mechanic’s overalls for crying out loud—quicksand. If he had done like they’d agreed and come to the hospital, she would be able to handle this better. But when had anyone been able to make Nick do something he didn’t want to?
Not her.
He picked up one of the empty spark plug boxes, studied it for a moment, and then set it back down. “I don’t think new spark plugs are going to be enough,” he said as he continued his inspection of the engine.
“She just needs a little pick-me-up.” If only.
Nick took a step back from under the hood, angled his head toward her, and grinned. There was nothing phony in his smile. It wasn’t that fake “magazine grin” she’d seen on so many of his pictures but an honest-to-goodness, no-holds-barred, the-boy-from-Minnesota smile. A smile that had disrobed her of her good sense and a few other things too many times to count.
He resumed his inspection. With careful scrutiny, he scoured the Wagoneer’s engine before turning his attention back to her. And then it seemed to her as if he gave her just as thorough a look over. “What this car needs is retirement.”
When had he gotten so close? The solid expanse of his chest captured her entire view. She couldn’t help but remember a time when it had been the most natural thing in the world for her to find solace and strength in his arms. When he’d held her so close that the only thing she heard was the beating of his heart.
Hope reached down and grabbed the empty auto store bag off the ground and began shoving part boxes into it. She needed to do something that moved her away from him. Why did her mind continually find a way to loop back around to their past?
Gathering the last piece of trash, she made her way over to the garbage can in the corner and stuffed the bag in on top. She turned and faced him and with the distance now between them, she could breathe again. “The only thing that concerns me about Gertrude is if she will get me back and forth to the hospital.”
“Gertrude? Ah, Hopeful, don’t tell me you’re still naming your vehicles?”
Hopeful. Her heartbeat sped up and her palms turned clammy. How could just one word from him make her remember and feel so much?
“You know about Mom naming things?”
Susan’s question startled them both. Neither had heard her return.
Hope turned to face her daughter and all but gasped in surprise. Her daughter looked beautiful. Instead of the baggy sweats and oversized T-shirts she’d adopted of late, today she wore her favorite pair of jeans, a teal shirt, and flip-flops. Last Christmas, when Susan had begged and pleaded for the designer jeans, Hope had balked at the hefty price tag. But from the moment her daughter had unwrapped them, Hope hadn’t thought twice about the cost. The look of joy on her daughter’s face had been worth every penny.
Like before, Nick couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from Susan. “I do.”
“The Jeep’s not the only thing she’s named.”
“Oh?”
“She names everything,” Susan continued. “The lawn mower, the telephone, the broom, even the toaster. And if that weren’t
bad enough, she talks to them like they’re real people. Take Henry, for example.”
“Susan,” Hope said, but there was no stopping her daughter.
“Henry?” Nick prodded Susan to continue.
“The vacuum.”
He leaned against the fender of the Jeep, crossing his arms. “I hate to tell you this, Susan, but your mom’s been naming things since before you were born.”
“Really?”
Nick nodded. “My senior year I bought a pickup from an old farmer. It had been sitting out in his field, rotting away, and he let me have it for a song. It didn’t run, most of the body had rusted away, and I swear some animal had taken up residence inside. But there was something about that truck.” A ghost of a smile found Nick. “I spent the next three months solid working on it. I scoured junkyards for replacement parts, spent every dime I’d ever saved on restoring it, and poured hours of hard work into it. I’ll never forget the first time I took it out. Man . . .” His voice trailed off into the memory. “The first day I drove it to school, kids crowded around to see. Someone asked me where I had dug up the old Ford. I was just about to answer when your mom informed him that Lucy was a classic 1956 Chevrolet pickup.”
Susan rolled her eyes and gave Hope one of those you-didn’t-really looks before turning back to Nick. “I hope you set the record straight and told everyone that your truck wasn’t named Lucy.”
Nick grinned down at Susan and then to Hope, laughter reflected in his eyes. And in that instant, she was sixteen again and in love with the hottest, baddest boy in school.
“How could I? You mom had put in nearly as many hours working on her as I had.”
“Mom?”
He nodded. “Where do you think she learned so much about cars?”
Susan looked at Hope and there was a new little glimmer of respect in her eyes. “Cool.”
“Yeah,” Nick said, and this time his attention was solely on Hope. “Cool.”
Susan couldn’t stop staring at Nick. She pulled at the ends of her ponytail that hung over her shoulder. “I still can’t believe you know my mom. I mean . . . Unbelievable. Chelsey’s gonna flip when I tell her. Will I see you again? I mean . . . Mom and I have to leave, but I guess maybe not if the car won’t start. Mom?”
Nick shut the hood. “We could always take my car.”
“You’re coming?” Susan asked, excitement spiking her voice, brightening her eyes.
Hope wiped the palms of her hands against her overalls. “I asked Nick to join us. I thought Joshua would like the extra company.”
For the first time Hope could remember, Susan smiled at the thought of going to the hospital.
“Cool,” her daughter said again. “But I don’t think Gertrude is going to start.”
“She’ll start,” Hope said.
“Susan has a point. Like I was saying, we could take my car.”
Hope followed his gaze out the garage door and to the flashy red sports car that was built for two. “And where do you propose we all sit? On the hood?”
Nick’s hand rested on the hood of the Jeep. “A quick call to the rental agency and I could have a new car here in less than fifteen minutes.”
Hope shook her head. “No thanks. The Jeep will start. She always does.”
“Are the keys in the ignition?” he asked Hope.
“Yes.”
Nick spoke again to Susan, and Hope saw the effort it was taking him to keep his tone light. “Why don’t you hop in and let’s see what we’ve got.”
Happily, Susan rounded the Jeep and climbed behind the wheel.
When her daughter was safely out of earshot, Hope said, “Just so we’re clear, Susan and I will be going in my car. You can follow in yours.”
“I didn’t come here to upset you,” he said. “Today is going to be hard enough. Why don’t we call a truce?”
A truce.
With Nick.
The possibility of it set off all kinds of warning signals in her head. But it was also a lifeline she couldn’t refuse.
For better or worse, he was here. For a while.
She stuck out her hand, felt the heat from his as he took hold. “Truce,” she said.
“Truce,” he repeated.
And, as if to seal the deal, the Jeep rumbled to life.
Eight
NICK hated hospitals. He hated the look of them, the smell of them, and even the taste. During the last fifteen years he’d been in and out of more emergency rooms than he cared to remember, but he had to admit that as far as hospitals went, Mount Rainier Children’s was the most inviting one he’d ever seen.
An enormous architectural feat of glass and steel, the hospital encompassed what had to be at least a whole square block. Colorful signs punctuated the landscape, clearly directing vehicles and pedestrians alike. Flowers blossomed and overflowed from meticulously maintained beds. Near the main entrance a large fountain held center stage. In the middle of its pool, a man-made hippopotamus peered out. The fountain’s gentle sprays cascaded over the amazingly lifelike metal structure, glistening its dark surface. The effect was surprisingly soothing. It was as if the whole purpose was to make a person forget, for just a moment, where they were. But, as the glass doors whooshed open and Nick followed Hope and Susan inside, there was nothing—not a flower, fountain, or fake hippo—that could make him forget.
The interior of the hospital was nothing like he thought it would be. Bright murals covered the walls. A fish tank larger than most cars dominated the entrance. And the people. He couldn’t get over how many people there were or how fast they were all moving. And loud. Weren’t hospitals supposed to be quiet?
A few people glanced in his direction and then did a double take as recognition flared in their eyes. Over the years Nick had grown accustomed to the notoriety he received. It wasn’t something he sought or desired, but he’d learned early on it came with the game. He truly appreciated the fans and tried to give back to them for as much as they gave to the sport. But today wasn’t about who he was or what he did. He gave a nod in greeting to those who waved and said a quick hi in passing but didn’t stop. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Hope and Susan were quickly navigating their way to a large bank of elevators; Nick had to hustle to keep up.
“Over here,” Susan said, motioning for Nick to join her in front of an elevator door toward the far end. He was about to ask her why they’d gone all the way down the hallway to this elevator when she explained, “The hospital is built on a hill, so not all the elevators go to every floor.” She pointed to each elevator. “See how they’re marked: Whale, Train, Balloon, Airplane.”
For the first time, Nick noticed the different themes.
“You need to be careful you get on the right elevator. To see Josh, we need to take the Balloon elevators.”
Nick was glad for Susan’s easy chatter; it broke the silence. Hope had barely said two words to him since they’d left her house and arrived at the hospital. They’d ended up taking separate cars—like she’d wanted. And that had been just fine with him. Except for the part when Hope had insisted that Susan ride with her. He wanted time alone with his daughter—and with his son—to get to know them. One way or another he’d make sure that happened.
Before they’d left, Hope had run into the house and changed into a long skirt and a pink pullover top. If she wore makeup, he couldn’t tell, and in the short amount of time she’d been in and out of the house, she couldn’t have spent any time styling her hair. Instead, she’d piled it on top of her head in some sort of messy bun.
For the last sixteen years Nick had been surrounded by women who knew exactly what to wear, how to walk and how to talk. Around the racetracks, gorgeous women were as plentiful as cotton candy at the fair. Their allure was all too apparent. But without even trying, Hope, with her hard fought for smile and tired eyes, captured his attention like n
one of those women could.
“The first few times we came, we got lost every time. Remember, Mom?”
“What, honey? Oh, yes, we did have a hard time finding our way around.” Hope turned to Nick, a frown creasing her brow. “Joshua’s chemotherapy treatment is scheduled for just after two today. Chemo is where—”
“I know what it is.” Even if Nick hadn’t spent the whole plane ride back reading and learning about leukemia, he still would have known.
“Afterward . . . after chemo, Josh doesn’t usually feel well. It would be best if we just let him rest.”
Nick had read about that too. “If that’s your polite way of telling me to get lost, don’t worry. I’ll make myself scarce. He doesn’t need me hanging around then.”
Hope nodded, clearly relieved. “Thanks.”
The elevator doors pinged seconds before they opened and the three of them, plus a handful of other people, got on. Nick was thankful no one on seemed to recognize him.
As the elevator began its ascent, Nick knew that the weightless sensation that settled in the pit of his stomach wasn’t caused by the ride. In just a few moments, he was going to see his son.
Susan stood close to him. The small confines of the elevator, combined with the number of people, caused her to stand closer to him than he was sure she normally would. He tried not to make it obvious, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He wanted to capture and remember every nuance of her movements, every angle of her face. She couldn’t be taller than five-six or five-seven, her mother’s height, because the top of her head barely hit his shoulder. He couldn’t help wondering how tall Joshua was. Was he as tall as his twin sister? Or taller? At Joshua’s age, Nick had already been an inch or so over six feet. He thought back to the picture he’d taken from Hope’s refrigerator.
The elevator gave a slight lurch and caused one of the people in front to accidentally knock into Susan. She stumbled, bumped lightly against him. Instinctively, he reached out and steadied her. She smiled up at him, thanked him for his help, and in that moment that same funny weightlessness hit him again.
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