“Good news, honey,” Mom said. “The doctor said your heart attack was the least serious type.” She turned her head to face Cisney. “What did he call it, again?”
“Unstable angina.”
He gave a weak nod and closed his eyes.
“Honey, Cisney and I are going to get some dinner and call DJ again. We’ll be back in about an hour.”
His nod barely moved his head.
In the corridor, Mom put her arm around Cisney’s shoulders. “I think he’s more tired from all the tests than from the heart attack.”
That sounded reasonable. The tension in Cisney’s shoulder muscles lessened.
Mom looked almost as worn out as Daddy. She needed support, too. “The doctor seemed pleased with Daddy’s test results so far.”
Mom smiled and led the way to the elevators. “Shall we eat here in the cafeteria?”
“You probably haven’t recuperated from your overseas flight. Don’t you want to eat out, and then go home for some rest? I’ll come back and stay with Daddy.”
“No. The doctor said the first twenty-four hours are most critical. I want to stay until he’s made it through that time.”
“OK. Then let’s eat here.”
The cafeteria was closed.
While they decided what to do, Mom called DJ and Cisney texted Nick. Diagnosis unstable angina. Least dangerous attack. Dad sleeping. Thanks for your family’s hospitality, kindness.
Nick would be glad he could listen to his seventies doo-wop songs in peace going home tomorrow. Just a hunch, though. The trip would seem longer without their silly banter. Would he stop for a shake halfway home? She typed another text. Make sure you stop for a milkshake tomorrow. Her fingers hovered over Send. Keeping up their friendship would make things harder in the long run. She held down the delete key. Move on, Cisney.
Their contacts made, they decided on snacks from the vending machine. Chips and candy bars. Comfort food. They sat on a nearby bench and held hands while Mom asked the blessing.
Cisney’s phone bleeped an incoming text.
Mom opened her bag of chips. “Go ahead and check your text.”
She retrieved her cell from her handbag. Sorry about your dad. Wish I’d been here. Praying. Deliver suitcase Sun. evening?
She focused on Wish I’d been here. He didn’t have to say that, and the uncommunicative Nick never would have. There she went again, reading what she wanted into his words, spinning her fantasies. As her friend, he’d merely wished he’d been there to help.
Deliver suitcase Sun. evening?
Her gaze drifted to a dent in the vending machine. She could see him tomorrow with a few taps of her fingers. But he could bring her suitcase to work on Monday. If Daddy was doing well, she’d need to go into the office for a few hours and work on the presentation with her staff. Delegate some tasks. She directed her thoughts back to Wish I’d been here.
“I see your little smile.”
Her gaze flashed to Mom’s as if she’d been caught with sinful thoughts. “The co-worker I spent Thanksgiving with responded to my message about Daddy. I promised his mother I’d let him know about Daddy’s condition.”
“His, him?” Mom’s tired eyes sparkled light.
“Yes. Nick. He’s an actuary.”
“Is there something you’re not telling Daddy and me?” Her eyes softened. “Daddy told me about Jason.”
Mom wasn’t like Angela, someone she could dump her highs and lows on.
Daddy would expect Cisney to be strong. If she gushed to Mom about Nick, Daddy might hear about it, and the news might do damage to his ailing heart. “No, he’s just a co-worker.”
The spark left Mom’s eyes as she extracted another chip from her bag.
Nice. Her holding back had lopped off the last bit of Mom’s hope. “I do like him a lot, though.”
Mom looked up, the sparkle returning. Her thin smile encouraged Cisney to go on.
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with actuaries, but they have a reputation for being extreme analytics, weird, and anti-social. Nick isn’t so extreme, but he’s nothing like Jason—”
“Good.” Mom said the word emphatically.
Cisney’s jaw dropped. Her eyes widened as realization hit. She spoke slowly. “You don’t like Jason.”
“Not much.”
“I thought you’d love him. He’s so much like Daddy.”
“Cisney, I would miss your dad terribly if he was to die. He’s my best friend. But you don’t like everything about Angela, do you?”
Cisney shook her head. It irked her that Angela rambled on in meetings.
Mom hesitated then spoke. “Like most young women, I thought I could change the things about your dad I didn’t like, so I let him bully me into marrying him. Then I let him browbeat me into forcing his name on DJ. He wasn’t honoring a family name. He was putting his stamp on his son.” She looked down toward her lap and smiled. “I liked the name Peter Cameron.” Her gaze returned to Cisney. “I was glad when your brother later insisted on DJ, instead of your dad’s choice of Don Jr.”
Big revelation. Mom had opinions. About Daddy. Did she want to hear more of this? It wasn’t as if she could cover her ears and utter la-la-la until Mom stopped.
Mom’s gaze drifted toward the end of the antiseptic hall. “Your dad and I had some rough first years.” She took a chip from the bag and held it.
Cisney stared at the suspended chip. Daddy’s heart attack was unlocking tongues right and left today. Hers. Ellie’s. Mom’s.
Mom went on. “I came to the Lord about that time, and made a choice to love my husband with the Lord’s help. And I do love him. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”
Cisney lifted her gaze to Mom’s. She did want to hear more. Being an ear for Mom was important, and for her own healing, she needed to listen. “I think so.”
“Cisney, I haven’t been the best mother to you, but I’ve watched you and hoped and prayed you’d be all right. I was afraid to upset the apple cart, but now I think it’s more important to be honest. So, I’m going to tell you what I see, and maybe you can pray about it. It might help you in some way.”
Cisney dropped a chip back into her bag. She searched Mom’s eyes. Was Mom going to tell her what was wrong with her character? Hearing her flaws from Jason was bad enough. But from Mom?
Mom took Cisney’s now trembling hand in hers. “I’m going to say this as simply as I can.” She hesitated. “Daddy raised you to be like him and to marry someone like him. He can’t have both. And I’ve watched you struggle with this dichotomy for too long. You’ve worked so hard trying to be like him and at the same time do what pleases him. Do you honestly think Daddy could be married to Daddy?” She tugged her lips into a thin smile and rolled her eyes.
Daddy marrying Daddy? An analogy for disaster.
Mom tapped Cisney’s hand with her finger. “The good news is that you didn’t turn out like him, as planned. And my prayer is that you will marry for love, Cisney. That you find a Christian man whom you choose for all the right reasons God has stored in your heart.” She scrunched her chip bag and dropped it into the trash receptacle next to the bench. “I’m truly sorry I didn’t speak up sooner.”
“Mom, stop berating yourself. You gave me what I needed most. An introduction to Jesus.”
Mom’s smile untapped Cisney’s emotions. Could she spit out what she wanted to say without bawling? She swallowed hard. “I think the Lord planned this whole holiday, Mom.” Her voice quavered. “I think Jesus has been working in all our hearts, even Daddy’s.”
“I’m praying that’s so.” Mom reached up and brushed Cisney’s bangs from her forehead. Her hand froze. “How did you get that awful bruise?”
****
Cisney unlocked the door to her apartment, dragged herself inside, and plopped her keys onto the kitchen counter. If she felt like this, how did Mom feel at age fifty-three?
Scrunched in hospital waiting room chairs, they’d gotten only sni
ppets of sleep through the night. This Sunday had been the longest she could remember, even without church on the schedule. At least, they all could breathe easier.
Daddy looked better and had garnered some orneriness.
The kitchen clock read minutes before six. Every muscle, except her stomach muscles, which growled for food, begged her to forget cooking. She dropped two frozen slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster.
What would Mom eat? She’d ordered Cisney home, promising to leave Daddy’s bedside soon. Who was she fooling? Soon meant eight-thirty, when visiting hours were over.
Cisney spread peanut butter and jelly on the toast and replayed this morning’s coup. When Daddy mentioned Jason, she’d kissed his forehead, looked him in the eyes, and said, “I believe it’s time I run my own love life, Daddy.” His injured look stung, and she’d almost caved and hired him as her lifetime matchmaker and manager, but when he saw she wasn’t budging, he’d chuckled and said, “That’s my girl.”
She pumped her arm. “Yes!” Why hadn’t she respectfully put her foot down a long time ago? Sometimes a bully needed to see his victim’s backbone, before he changed his attitude and became a supportive friend. Like Robin Hood and Little John. Would Daddy become her Little John? There she went again, spinning her fairytales.
She climbed, groaning, onto a bar stool and chomped a bite from her sandwich. Could she have missed an incoming text from Nick responding to hers about the delivery of her suitcase? She checked. No.
Hadn’t she learned anything? Why had she given him the option to bring it by tonight or to work tomorrow without typing RSVP at the end of her text? Not knowing what to expect kept her wondering and wishing. So unproductive. Not that she intended to produce anything tonight, beyond taking a shower and going to bed.
Her caller ID showed a missed call from Angela. She selected Call Back.
Angela answered after the first ring. “Hey, Cisney! We’re back. Tom just dropped me off.”
“Good trip?”
“I made it down a black diamond. Mostly on my backside, but my challenge belt has another notch. How about you?”
“I’m OK, but Daddy had a heart attack yesterday morning.”
Angela sucked in a breath. “Oh, Cis, I’m so sorry.”
She filled Angela in on the diagnosis, the prognosis, and the prescribed treatment.
“If you can’t make the fitting tomorrow, I understand,” Angela said.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Well, Jason’s chumminess with CS today showed I was wrong about Jason wanting you back. So, how’s Nick?”
“He saw his old flame twice this weekend. I think that says volumes, don’t you?” Why, on her own, without Daddy interfering, did she finally find a forever man, and he had decided to pursue the woman who’d broken his heart? Was she supposed to learn something from that?
“How rude of him.”
“He invited me to spend Thanksgiving with his family, not to fall in love with me.”
“You must have it bad for him. You’re defending him.”
She’d shot up prayers every time she thought about Nick, asking God to remove her feelings for him, but so far they remained like leeches having a feast on her heart. “So, was there a reason other than chitchat for your call earlier?”
“Yes. Remember how much you owe me for filling in for you on your last presentation when you had the flu?”
Oh, no. What did Angela want to spring on her on the longest day of her life? “Let me warn you. I’m exhausted and not in the mood for blind dates, or fishing your engagement ring out of the drain again.”
“What I’m asking is a breeze compared to those.”
“OK. Let’s hear it.” She licked peanut butter from her finger.
“Tom won’t dance the tango for our bride-and-groom dance unless the bridesmaids and groomsmen tango with us. Would you please, please come to tango lessons Wednesday night?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I thought you enjoyed waltzing the other night. Pretty please.”
“Who have you paired me up with?”
“Because of your height, we put you with Tom’s younger brother, Hunter.”
“That kid? Will I still walk like an upright primate when he gets done with my toes?”
“You’re such a sport. Thank you, thank you.”
The bleep of a text sounded. “Gotta go, Angela.”
Cisney read the text from Nick. Entering Richmond. Want your suitcase?
She appraised the appearance of her apartment, and then keyed: Sure.
****
Nick lugged Cisney’s suitcase up to the second floor and rang her doorbell. The way she wore her feelings on her face, even when she tried to hide them, he’d soon know how her dad fared.
She drew her door open. For a split second, she looked as tired as he felt, but when her eyes took him in, fatigue fell from her face like a no longer needed mask. “Hello. Come in. You can leave my suitcase inside the door.”
Her cheerful welcome surged new energy into his brain cells and muscles. He placed her suitcase against the wall, shoved his hands into his back pockets, and scanned her apartment. A smattering of self-adhesive notes adorned her refrigerator door, a stack of sheet music rested on her piano, and another stack of magazines sat on her black coffee table, but otherwise her home surroundings were nothing like her messy office desk. Nice artwork on the walls.
“How’s your dad?”
“His color is really good compared to yesterday. He’s made it through the most critical hours.”
“I’ll let my family know the good news. They’re all praying.”
“Thanks. It was such a pleasure to get to know your family.”
“Believe me; they felt the same about you.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “Well, I’ll be heading home.”
Mom would be disappointed he hadn’t prepared a speech about Dana’s engagement and her role in his job interviews. But on the drive up, he’d decided it was only fair to hold off announcing his new job to co-workers until he’d talked to his boss. Tomorrow was soon enough to fill Cisney in on all the job developments, his decisions, and which way his love life leaned.
“Have you eaten?” she asked.
“No, but I’ll grab something on the way home.”
She swept her hand toward the kitchen. “Please, join me for a bite.”
“That’s OK. I don’t want to put you out.”
“You won’t. In fact, you don’t want to miss what I’m having for dinner.”
What kind of home-cooked meal did Cisney make for herself? His curiosity got the best of him, along with his sudden craving to enjoy time with her. “All right. If you don’t have to cook extra for me. Thanks.”
“I have to cook a little.”
“OK. I’m intrigued. What dish won’t I want to miss?”
“Peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat bread defrosted in the toaster.”
He laughed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever eaten whole wheat bread on purpose.”
“My brand is the best.” She led him to the kitchen. “Sit at the bar while I slave over the hot toaster.” She put two slices of frozen bread in the machine and checked the use-by-date on the milk carton. “Milk or water?”
“Milk.” Nick regarded the peanut butter and jelly jars on the counter. They weren’t brands he recognized.
“One natural peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat coming up.” Flourishing the plate, she set it before him. With equal flare, she snatched a napkin from the pineapple napkin holder, handed it to him, and joined him at the bar with their glasses of milk.
He took a bite. “Not bad.”
“See, natural is good.”
“I wasn’t raving how good it is. It’s just not bad.”
“It grows on you.” She took a bite of her partially eaten sandwich. “So, did you stop for a milkshake at the halfway point on the way home?”
“Nope.”
“I understand.
It wouldn’t have been the same by yourself.”
“True.”
Her smile said she liked his answer. Someday, he’d confess her company was the exotic flavor that spiced up a vanilla shake.
She sipped her milk. “Tomorrow, I need your numbers for our presentation—”
He put his finger to her lips. “I don’t talk business on my days off, and until midnight I’m still on holiday.”
She backed her head away from him. “And yet, you spent two mornings while at your parents’ house, taking care of business.”
She was quick. Now he’d ended up exactly where he didn’t want to go in the conversation. He took a bite of his sandwich. “That was different.”
She swiveled her chair to face him. “How?”
He grabbed hold of the back of her chair and turned her toward the bar. “Eat.”
Her frown brought wrinkles to her forehead. She picked up her sandwich and her pearl ring caught the kitchen light.
“You’re still wearing your ring on your left hand.”
She swallowed. “Don’t you change the subject, Nick LeCrone.”
Time to get out of the hot water. He scooted his barstool back, stood, and grabbed his sandwich. “Thank you, for your hospitality.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”
He took her chin in his free hand, dragged his gaze from her lips, and focused on her eyes. “Yes, I am.” He returned his gaze to her mouth. Oh, how he’d like to kiss those sweet lips. “I’ll see myself out.”
****
Cisney gaped, her gaze following Nick until the door clicked shut. What was that all about? She hadn’t had a chance to ask him about the swans.
He was withholding something big. Were he and Dana engaged? But if he thought of Cisney as a friend, why did her rock-solid woman’s intuition tell her that Nick was a breath away from kissing her before he left? If he was two-timing Dana, forgiving him would be a long time coming.
14
Nick entered Joe’s office and settled into a chair facing his boss.
Calculated Risk Page 15