A Life Worth Living

by Lorrie Kruse

  She looked up as the gym doors opened. An instant smile formed when she saw the doctor walking toward her. Staying at St. Luke’s did have its benefits.

  Paul wasn’t the type who earned second glances, not with his black-rimmed glasses and his receding hairline. But he qualified as “cute.” And he’d worked hard to convince her to go out on that first date. She’d finally given in. After all, anyone who’d worked that hard for a date wasn’t likely to drop out of her life after a date or two. And now, after several months, she thought that possibly, just possibly, she might fall in love with him. Someday.

  “I’ve missed you, honey bun.” He spread his arms wide apart. She stood and settled comfortably into their security. His mouth settled over hers. Tight in his embrace, she had no choice but to move with him as he led her away from the desk. Not like she planned on resisting.

  He pressed her against the wall beside the filing cabinets where they wouldn’t be seen by anyone coming in. She ignored the stethoscope in his lab coat that jabbed her belly and concentrated on his lips, instead. With any luck, kissing would be enough for him.

  Her heart skipped a beat when he slid his hand beneath her uniform top. They shouldn’t be doing this here. She held back her protest. Sometimes, you had to do things you didn’t want to do, and this was one of those things.

  He teased her satin-covered nipple with his thumb. In spite of herself, she tipped her head back and moaned softly. Her good sense warned her that what she was doing was wrong, but she pushed it away. Something that felt this good couldn’t be wrong. And he liked touching her. Her. Not someone else, but her.

  “Skip visiting your mom tonight.” He nibbled her lip. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  A nursing-home-free evening sounded wonderful. Especially when that evening would be spent with Paul.

  “Lobster and expensive wine.” Little kisses across her jaw.

  She’d be happy with take-out pizza and bottled water.

  His mouth moved to the tender skin below her ear. “An evening of intellectual conversation.”

  No fighting about how to turn the page or what time it was.

  To the crook of her neck. “We can follow it up with breakfast in bed.”

  An entire evening with him.

  He squeezed her nipple just the right amount to spread heat through her belly. If she missed one visit, her mother would never notice.

  He sucked lightly on her neck. In his bed, she knew he’d suck other places. Something else he liked doing. If she kept him happy, then maybe he’d love her. She opened her mouth to say yes, that she’d skip visiting her mother tonight. But then she wondered how easily she’d agree if Paul asked her again tomorrow to skip her visit. And then, the next time, would she even pause just the slightest? “I have to visit my mother, but I can come over, after.”

  “It’ll be too late for lobster, then.”

  She slid her hand around to his lower front. “But it won’t be too late for this.”

  He leaned heavily against her. “You’re killing me, Abby. I want to take you into the supply closet and fuck you until you scream so loud they hear you in the next county.”

  She didn’t want to be fucked. She wanted to be made love to. And the supply closet was about the last place she wanted to do it. But she was the one he wanted sex with and not someone else, and that was close enough to love to suit her. “So, do it.”

  “You tempt me. Surely, you do.” He pulled away far enough to look in her eyes. “But I don’t want it to be just about sex. I want more.” With a grin, he pulled her hand off his crotch. “But if you keep that up, I’ll settle for wild, animal sex.”

  Feeling like a tramp, she reached for him again, but he sidestepped her. “Seriously, Abby. I want this to be more than sex. I want a relationship with you. One that involves us being together longer than an hour here and an hour there.”

  A relationship. Something more than a quick dinner and sex. Marriage? Kids? The happily-ever-after that had escaped her for so long?

  He stepped closer. “I think it’s time I meet your mom.”

  “No.” The word shot out on impulse. Which made no sense. Meeting her mother was a good thing. It showed he was serious about her. “I mean, yes, you should meet Mom. Someday. Just not tonight.” Why not? “I need to prepare her. She doesn’t take change well, not even good change.”

  “Well, you prepare her, then. Because I plan on being in your life for the long haul.” He cupped the side of her face and stared into her eyes. “I love you, Abby.”

  Wrapping her arms around him, she struggled to not cling to him. Had he really said he loved her? She wanted to sing and dance. But mostly, she wanted to cry.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Despite wishing for independence, Matt was content to let the CNA push him down the hallway after his last therapy session on Wednesday. His third day of therapy hadn’t been any easier than his second, and both of them made his first day seem like child’s play. When you got right down to it, the little bit he did in the sessions amounted to close to nothing, at least compared to what he had done in a day as a construction worker. But it was the most tiring “close to nothing” he’d ever done.

  He welcomed entering the doorway to his room. A nap comprised his plans for the next couple of hours. But no such luck. Here came Deborah Stryker, wheeling in right behind him.

  “Matthew, how’s it going? Are you working hard in therapy?”

  He let out a small laugh because that was all the energy he had.

  “I happened to be talking to admitting at Milwaukee Spine Care Center. They still have that open room. Just in case you care.” A smile played on her lips as though she knew how much he’d wanted to go there. She gave her wheels a push. “You have yourself a nice evening.”

  You have a nice evening, too, you witch. How many times did he have to tell her he was fine where he was?

  The picture of the man in braces flashed in his head as the nurse got him settled into bed. He was about as far away from being that man as he could get. He forced away the image. It had only been a few days. He couldn’t expect to be doing wheelchair and bed transfers all on his own, already.

  He closed his eyes. His thoughts went to the rehab center in Milwaukee, and he wished he were there. Damn it, stop it. You made your decision. Stop wishing for what’s not going to be.

  As tired as he was, sleep was slow in coming. He’d barely drifted off when his cell phone rang. His heart raced as he opened his eyes. He grabbed the phone and mumbled, “Hello.”

  “Mr. Huntz? This is Rose, at Fuller Lake Community Bank. I was just getting ready to transfer your loan payments when I noticed they have already been made. I wanted to be sure I didn’t have down the wrong information.”

  His heart still raced from the sudden awakening. “What do you mean, my payments have been made?”

  “Just that. The payments were already made. On all of your loans.”

  “You sure you’ve got the right accounts? Matthew Huntz. H. U. N. T. Z. My base account is 198362.”

  “That’s what I have.”

  His gaze skated around the room. This had to be a prank. When no laugh came, he asked, “Can you tell who made the payments?”

  “I’m sorry. There’s no way to track the source. The payments were made in cash.”

  “Great.” How lucky for him.

  “We’ll transfer your interest payments from your savings account next month, like you arranged. Have a good day.”

  He flipped his phone closed. All remnants of sleep had vanished. Who the hell would have paid his loans?

  His father? He’d said he would help. No. Matt had told his dad he was good for a few months. That should have satisfied his father. And his father never would have paid the loans without telling Matt first. Would he? Of course not.

  His brother? No. Brad’s money was tighter than his own.

  Crystal? No way.

  Derrick? He dismissed him almost as fast as his name had come to
mind. Sure, they were closer than friends, but this was a lot different than lending someone fifty bucks until payday.

  Which brought him back to his father.

  He flipped his phone open and pressed the number “2” to speed dial his father’s cell. It seemed to take forever before his father answered, and when he did, his words were rushed between labored breaths. “Can this wait? I’m in the middle of something.”

  It’d only take a few seconds to ask. A couple of seconds for the answer.

  Through the phone, he heard a distant voice. “Mr. Huntz, I don’t have all day.”

  Just a second. That’s all he needed. “I was just wondering if—”

  “Mr. Huntz!”

  “I’m sorry, Matt, I’ve really got to go. See you later.” His father disconnected the call.

  “…you paid my loans,” Matt said to the dead phone. He wanted to call back, but he closed his phone instead.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  With the gym resembling a ghost town on Wednesday afternoon, Abby settled in at the desk with her patient files. The telephone interrupted her before she even had a chance to open the top file. Paul, she thought, smiling as she snagged the phone. Calling to say he loved her.

  Love. Her smile vanished. Why was it that the more serious a relationship got, the more fragile it became?

  “Therapy department, Abigail Fischner.”

  “Hello, Ms. Fischner. This is Kyle Jones from Milwaukee Spine Care Center.”

  Her breath held suspended. It wasn’t Paul, but this call was just as good. Better in fact…she hoped. She tried to read his voice, but his tone was neutral. Surely she’d gotten the job. Rejections usually came in letters, not personal phone calls.

  “I hope it’s all right for me to call you at work.”

  “Yes.” Her chest barely moved. Please say I got the job. Please, please.

  “I’d like to offer you the position.”

  Her feet wiggled while her lips formed a yes around a smile. Before the word could spill from her mouth, Paul pushed into her thoughts. He’d said he loved her. What if they weren’t just words like they had been with Jovan? What if it was real this time? And there was her mother to think about. Moving her mother was going to be a challenge.

  “Ms. Fischner?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit…stunned.” Shoot. Shoot, shoot. “I was hoping you’d call, but I must admit I didn’t expect to be offered the job. I hate to ask, but is there any chance I can have a few days to decide?”

  “Of course. How’s Monday?”

  “Yes. Monday’s just fine.” She hung up and then covered her face with her hands. Darn it.

  “Honey? What’s wrong?”

  She looked up at the sound of Paul’s voice. His appearance at that moment was like a sign. She wasn’t supposed to take the job.

  “Is it something with your mom?”

  She shook her head. She wanted to believe she and Paul had a future, but she wanted the job, as well.

  “Then, what’s wrong?”

  “I was just offered the job in Milwaukee.”

  “Well, then, congratulations are in order. We’ll have to go out tonight to celebrate.”

  Celebrate? Her leaving was cause for him to rejoice?

  “When do you start?”

  “I didn’t say yes.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Really? I thought you wanted the job.”

  “I didn’t say no, either. I don’t know what to do, Paul. I want the job. Really, really want it. But…”

  “But…” The single word was full of expectation.

  Looking up at him, she saw a glimmer of what she’d hoped to find in him. Marriage. Kids.

  A family.

  And then, the vision vanished. “I’m just not sure how Mom would adjust to a new place.”

  “Your mom. Of course.” The sleeves of his crisp, white jacket bunched up at the elbows of his crossed arms.

  “And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave you.”

  His stance relaxed and the tight line of his mouth disappeared. “Really?”

  She felt the urge to get up and run. Planting her feet, she nodded.

  He pulled her up, wrapped her in his embrace, and nuzzled her neck.

  She pressed herself up against him and concentrated on the feel of him against her. He’d said he loved her. She squeezed her eyes closed. Too bad professions of love didn’t come with guarantees.

  §

  The question of who had paid his loans burned inside Matt while the next one hundred sixty minutes stretched into eternity. By the time Crystal stepped into the room, Matt had worked up fifteen different ways to broach the question. Before he could ask where his dad was, Crystal had crossed the room, leaned over the bed, and pressed her mouth to his. Whoa! Her tongue searched for his as though she’d spent the whole day anticipating this moment. The question of his loans became unimportant.

  “Good lord.”

  “Oh, my.”

  Crystal pulled away at the sound of his parents’ voices. His wait for questioning his father was over, but now he wanted his parents gone. Just for a while.

  Crystal sat on the edge of the bed and gathered his hand in hers. Better than if she were sitting on a chair four feet away. But it felt as far away after that kiss.

  “Any good news today?” Crystal asked.

  For a sliver of a second, he wanted Crystal gone, as well. It was bad enough facing another day of paralysis without having to announce that it’d been another day without any improvement. He put on a smile. “Sure thing, babe. The lottery is over two hundred and fifty mil.”

  “Well, doesn’t that make my day?”

  “How about this?” He ran his hand over the mattress between himself and the guardrail. “I’ve been saving this place for you. All day.”

  Brad used to joke that Matt and Crystal only needed one chair because she used to sit so close to him. Those days had ended somewhere along the line, however, with one of the “down” times in their relationship. He expected Crystal to laugh off his invitation and move over to her folding chair, putting even more distance between them. Instead, she pushed the button that raised the head of the bed and then squeezed herself in next to him.

  They could have used another couple inches to be totally comfortable, inches he could have easily given her if it weren’t so damn hard for him to adjust his position. Too tired after the day of therapy to even try, he slid his arm around her and called it good. She rested her head on his chest, and he decided it was better than good. This was how he’d envisioned their relationship. Deborah Stryker could keep her news bulletins to herself about Milwaukee Spine Care Center’s openings. He wouldn’t trade one evening of having Crystal in his arms for all the specialized therapists in the world.

  He nuzzled his chin against the top of her head.

  “Ow.” She lifted her head and rubbed her scalp. “Aren’t you tired of that beard, yet?”

  “I’m certainly not tired of not shaving.” But he was tired of her bitching about it. Looked like tomorrow he’d be adding shaving back to his list of things to do.

  She finally settled against his chest again. He made sure, this time, to keep his chin away from her. With Crystal snuggled close, he addressed his father. “Remember that conversation we had a few nights ago? Where you said you’d help with my bills?”

  His dad broke open a roll of antacids. “I may be old, but I’m not senile.”

  “What’re the chances you paid my loans?”

  His father frowned. “Was I supposed to? I thought you said you could handle it a few months.”

  “I can. So I’m confused why someone went and paid my loans for me.”

  Crystal wiggled next to him. The space was tight. He wished he could do the same.

  “Well, it wasn’t me,” his dad said.

  Grasping at straws, Matt looked at the top of his fiancée’s head. “Crystal?”

  “Yes?” she asked, her voice sounding innocent.

  �
��Did you make my payments?”

  She let out a laugh. “I’d love to say yes, but you know I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “Not anymore. Not after paying my loans.”

  She lifted her head off his chest. Her gaze connected with his. “I didn’t pay your loans.”

  Great. Two and a half hours of torture and he still didn’t know. “Well, someone did. If it’s not you and it’s not Dad, I guess I’ve got me a fairy godmother.”

  “Do you rent out your fairy godmother’s services?” his father asked. “I could use her magic wand on Maguire’s house. Seems a certain son of mine was off on his order for the bathroom tile. There’s not enough.”

  “Uh, yeah. There is.” Matt gave his head a little shake as he arched his eyebrows, tired of the same argument they had every time his dad asked him to calculate materials. He was equally annoyed that everyone seemed unconcerned that someone had paid a crap load of money on his loans.

  “Uh, no. There isn’t.”

  “You told me to get it as close as possible. There should be two tiles of each color left.”

  “I’d say it’s closer to being about ten of each short.”

  “No. It’s two each over.” If he were back in Fuller Lake, he could oversee the project. As if his father would let him. Ridiculous thought. But, if his father would let him oversee the project, then he could prove in person that there were enough tiles. But, no, he was stuck here, seventy-eight miles away, with boat anchors for legs.

  “Admit it. You miscalculated.”

  “No, I didn’t. I’ll show you.” Matt reluctantly slid his arm from around Crystal’s shoulder. He took the pad of paper and pencil from the over-bed table drawer and then pulled the table closer.

  His father moved to the side of the bed while Matt drew out the room, pulling the measurements from memory. He wished he had a slide rule so he could get the scale right. Doing the best he could with the edge of tomorrow’s breakfast menu, he drew in the tub surround. His father shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” his father said.