Me, Howard’s daughter? Wait. Neurology?
“Susie’s—my daughter. This—is—Jenna.” It takes effort for him to respond. He sounds so tired.
I extend my hand past the hospital bed and shake the nurse’s hand. “I’m Jenna Anderson, the director of the senior center back in Speculator Falls. I don’t have any of his information, but I know who can get it. Would you direct me to a phone?”
“Absolutely. I’ll keep my favorite patient of the night company.” She’s not much older than me, but she’s flirting in a sweet and comforting way.
I glance at Howard. “You okay?”
He gives the friendly nurse a smile and then returns his focus to me. “I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. Are you in pain?”
He bats his IV-laden hand at me. “No. But you’re fawning over me.”
I sigh. “Okay. Hint taken. I’ll give you some rest and go outside to call Shirley.” I take a couple steps out of the room and hear my name. I turn back in.
Howard delivers a faint smile. “Thanks, kid. Don’t tell anyone at the center, but you’re my favorite.”
“Oh, Howard. It’s mutual.” I walk out and down the hall, thankful he doesn’t see my tears.
Shirley picks up on the second ring. “Is everyone okay? Who was in the accident?”
“Howard blacked out. He apparently drove on the other side of the road and hit a pine tree.” I close my eyes for a moment. “Will and Sara seem to be okay—”
“What about Howard?”
“The doctors want to know why he blacked out. Say, do you have his senior center emergency information? I know he has a daughter, but I don’t have her number.”
“Oh, right. Susan. She’s a nurse. Give me a minute or two. Thank the Lord I brought the member files for the prom, just in case. Hang on.”
I pace the hospital sidewalk in front of the emergency entrance while I wait. Before long, Shirley’s back on the line. She gives me Susan’s info.
“Thanks, Shirley. I’ll call her.”
“Keep us posted at the center, too.”
We both hang up.
Twenty minutes later, I’m done calling Susan and back on my way to Howard’s room. I’m nearly there when Ben darts out of a cross hallway and grabs my arms.
“Jenna. There you are. How is Howard?”
Ben’s attention and gentle hold tear down my resistance and pave the way to a gush of tears. I collapse into his hug. “He looks so weak.”
“I know, sweetie, but it will be okay. You know, this is a blessing of sorts. Now everyone is aware something is wrong, and the doctors can help him.”
Sweetie?
“You’re right. It’s hard to see him this way. His daughter is on her way. How is Sara? Will?”
Ben makes no effort to let go. I remain in his embrace. He places his hands on my arms and gives a gentle push back so he can look at me while he answers. “Both good. Fred and Janice are on their way to take them home. Seatbelts save.”
A sob escapes. “Thank the Lord. Ben, what if the news for Howard isn’t as positive?”
He closes his eyes for a moment then opens them. “Let’s not think about that right now. How about the two of us go to his room and stay until Susan arrives? I’ll take you home, no matter what time it is.”
I move back a step and walk beside him down the hall. “Great. I appreciate everything you’ve done.” I nudge him with my elbow. “Including the part where you called me sweetie.”
For someone who confesses to feeling suffocated around senior citizens and illness, Ben steps up. He pulls an extra chair beside Howard’s bedside. “So, Howard, I’m waiting to hear back from an Albany bank. If they approve the loan, JB’s is going to expand.”
Our patient grunts. “Good plan.”
Our chat lasts under an hour and includes sessions where Howard nods off, until a woman with strawberry blonde hair rushes in to his side. A man who appears to be in his early forties follows.
“Daddy, are you okay?” After standing upright, the woman blots the corners of her eyes.
His face brightens, and he nods.
Ben stands and offers his hand to her and then to the man standing behind her. “I’m Ben Regan. This is Jenna Anderson. We were some of the first to arrive on the accident scene. Jenna sees your dad nearly every day at the senior center.”
She looks to me. “Thank you for taking good care of him. He mentions you all the time. I’m Susan Bickford. This is my husband, Randy.” She gazes at her father. “Daddy, what happened? Do you remember?”
Howard pushes himself up against the fluffy pillows. “I felt dizzy. Must’ve blacked out. So glad Sara and Will are okay.”
Fat tears slide down Susan’s face. Randy moves closer and puts his hands on his wife’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. Ben uses that as a cue to step back, and I move next to him.
“Howard, we’re going to head back to Speculator Falls. Susan and Randy, it was nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances.” I blow a kiss to Howard.
He grimaces. “It’s late. You need to get home. And stop with the kissy nonsense.”
I wave him off. “Secret’s out. I know I’m your favorite.” I sober. “Get well, my friend. I’m praying for you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Plastic forks scrape near-empty fruit cups throughout the center. It’s so quiet without Howard.
Fred clears his throat. Bart and Dora lean forward in his direction.
Shirley, sitting across from Fred and Janice, puts down her fork. “Hey, Beebe. Are you clearing your throat because you have something to ask Jenna, or are you choking on a pineapple wedge?”
Everyone turns to stare at me, perhaps waiting for my reply. I put down my fork and push back my tray.
“No, Shirley, I’m fine. Just hating the silence.” Fred voices what I believe are all our thoughts.
Will, sitting to my left, leans close to me, his voice a whisper. “Any word?”
“No. Susan said she’d call me once the neurologist looks at the CT results.” I restrain the urge to yell and look around at everyone in an effort to break the tension, but I don’t want to break Susan’s confidence.
Will reaches for my tray and places it on top of his. He then stands. “Carla and I visited him after church. He kept his curmudgeonly ways but I wonder if he’s—scared.”
I barely hear Will once his voice trails off. I don’t want to think about Howard experiencing fear. It’s my turn to clear my throat.
Please, tears, don’t fall.
Will walks over to the silver cart where the used glass tub rests and places the dirty cup in the bin then stacks our plates on the bottom shelf. He pulls his keys out of his pants pocket and faces me. “I have to go to Wells for a delivery. If you hear anything—”
I nod. “I’ll call. I promise.”
Shirley stands to announce the afternoon festivities. “Okay, folks. Janice will lead the bridge group right here in fifteen minutes. For those of you who like to read, Bart’s starting a book club today by the fish tank.”
I retreat to my office, desperate for anything that would distract me from worrying about Howard. I need to be a season ahead of current activities, so I pull out the fall calendar. Time to finalize.
An hour later, I put down my pencil. Everything is confirmed except double checking Roxy’s timeframe for her Thanksgiving variety show.
“Okay, Lord. Now what? I pray that…”
My antiquated ringing phone makes me jump.
“Jenna? I didn’t want to tie up the phone in case the hospital calls, but I wanted to check and see how you’re doing.”
I wrap my index finger around the phone cord. Ben. His voice is milk-chocolaty smooth and as welcoming as a sweet dessert. “I’m trying to be strong for the seniors. They’re on edge, and I can’t blame them.”
Garbled voices meet my ear. Ben must be talking to someone else. “Sorry, a customer had a question. Do you want to visit him after work
? I could drive you there—if you want.”
I swallow hard. I want to see Ben and experience his hug. But I also know Susan made it clear not to visit until the family knew what they were dealing with. “That’s nice of you, but Howard’s daughter is supposed to call. It should be anytime.”
“I see. Here’s an idea. Whether she calls or not, how about you come up to my house and I’ll grill? If you feel like working outside after dinner, you can assist with my garden pond install. You can help or watch. Whatever might help.”
The phone cord is so taut around my finger that it turns purple. I jerk it loose. “Okay. Honestly, as nice as your offer is, I want to see your gorgeous house again. Sitting on one of the Adirondack chairs on your wrap-around porch sounds relaxing.”
Ben lets out a low chuckle. “I close JB’s at six, so come up to the house around 6:30. It’s a date.”
Even with the dial tone buzz, I still have a loose grip on the cord.
Could it be? An official date with Ben Regan?
I look at my watch. Bart’s book club apparently chose War and Peace because they’ve been discussing it for over three hours. Susan hasn’t called, and I’ve got to close. I’m ready to head toward Panther Mountain and enjoy time at Ben’s.
“Knock, knock. I thought I’d find you here.”
I swing around toward the door and find Kyle.
Lovely.
Not.
“I’m waiting for the book club to wrap up, and then I’m out the door. Can I help you with something?”
Kyle saunters inside toward me, a smarmy grin intact. “Believe it or not, I was hoping to help you. I heard your customer here, Harold, had an accident after the prom and is in the hospital. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
I want to roll my eyes. Although Kyle has no fear making his way inside the senior center, Ben runs circles around Kyle in the authenticity department. I cross my arms and tap my foot. Why can’t I be sitting on Ben’s porch already? “Kyle. This is the senior center. It’s a place for residents who are fifty-five years or older. They aren’t customers.” I stop tapping. “And it isn’t Harold, his name is How—”
The ringing phone stops my rebuke. I run to my office and pick up by the third ring.
“Hi Jenna, it’s Susan.”
“I’m so glad to hear from you. How is he? What did you learn?”
Silence meets my ears. “He’s driving most of the nurses crazy. But we met with, umm, the neuro-oncologist—”
“Oncologist? Susan?” My voice escalates two octaves.
I hear her sobbing.
“High-grade astrocytoma.”
My mind races through college courses and previous senior center health scares. Astrocytoma.
Brain cancer?
“Susan, I’m so sorry.”
She takes a deep breath. “Thank you. We have to wait for pathology, but I’ve been in the medical field for decades. It’s at the base.” Another pregnant pause. Then a sniffle. “It’s not good.”
Knife-like jabs penetrate my head as I process Susan’s words.
“Jenna, I have to go. I’m making plans. I’ll call you when I know more.”
With a bang, I release the phone to the cradle and shuffle past Kyle to Shirley. She has the front door open, waving good-bye to the last of the book club members. I reach out and graze her arm. She turns to me. I’m sure she sees the look on my face.
She takes her hand off the door and leans in closer to me. “It’s Howard, isn’t it?”
I nod, biting my lip. Tears multiply, and Shirley doesn’t press me for more information. She places her hand back on the door and re-opens it. “Jenna, go. I’ll close up. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I give her a quick hug and dart out the door to the SUV. I stick the key in the ignition, burst into tears, and pound the steering wheel. “God, I don’t understand. Howard—is a teddy bear. He’s the senior center to me. Don’t let him—die.” In Ohio, I was always the activities director and never had the opportunity to develop close relationships with the seniors. There were so many. Now, with the small town living comes the reality of life and death.
My freckled arm is wet before I put the vehicle in drive. Treating my appendage as a tissue isn’t ladylike, but it’s all I have available so I can drive. I’m two miles away from the center when it hits me.
I left Kyle standing at the senior center.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ben’s shoveling something small and dark into his front lawn pond when my truck inches up his steep driveway. My wave is limp, but it’s enough for him to drop the shovel and jog toward me.
Be still my heart.
Muscles pop out of his ocean blue T-shirt as he opens the door for me. “Jenna. So glad to see—”
“Ben.” My voice cracks as I fall into his broad chest. Tears stream down my cheeks and onto the front of his shirt. Sweat and woodsy cologne fill my nostrils.
He rubs the top of my back in a circular motion. “Howard?”
I nod and tears dominate. Neither of us speak for a minute. I lift my head and brush the back of my palms against my face then sigh.
“It isn’t good. Brain cancer. Aggressive.”
Ben gasps and draws me in a hug. When he steps back, he keeps my hand and squeezes. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
“Susan said they still need to hear from the pathologist, but she knows the lingo from her nursing career. She heard from the neuro-oncologist, and it’s at the base of his—skull.” Just saying the last sentence feels like a football team pummeled into my chest and took my breath away.
“He’s tough. You know that.” His voice is so soft that I lean forward to hear him.
“I know.” I let go and my hands drop to my sides.
He cups his fingers under my chin. “And Howard’s faith. He keeps his feelings private, but he’s a man who believes God. I know firsthand. He kept me believing when Grandpa was so sick.” He holds me for a second, but his piercing gaze unsettles me as much as his touch. “C’mon, speaking of my grandfather, he always said hard work was the best answer to any problem, next to the Lord.”
We walk in sync to the two-foot wide hole. A cavity that pales in size compared to the growing doubts I have in God’s ways.
“When you drove up I was lining the pond with roof felt. I have an extra shovel.” He hands me his digging tool and an extra pair of work gloves.
I take it and plow deep into the roofing material. Dumping pile after pile of the dark stuff into the pond area feels good. After a dozen throws, beads of sweat drop off my forehead.
“I didn’t think I’d perspire like this.” I smile, wiping the perspiration.
Ben pauses mid-dig and grins. “You missed the real labor. Digging the pond wasn’t easy. The fun part is next.”
Leaning on the shovel, I raise my eyebrows. “I’m listening.”
“Filling the pond with water.”
Ten minutes later Ben hands me a hose.
“I’m going to run to the side of the house and turn on the spigot.”
I nod and jiggle the green line while I wait. Thirty seconds later there’s a low rumble, and then a shot of icy liquid washes over my toes. “Ben, it’s freezing.”
He’s still by the house, but he’s laughing and bending over.
Oh, I’ll fix him.
While he trots back to the pond, I play the dutiful helper and aim the hose into the hole. That is, until he’s at my side.
“Were you laughing at me, Ben Regan?” One hand is on my hip. The other, on the hose.
“Me?” His voice squeaks. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” He winks.
With a slight jerk of my wrist, the hose isn’t filling the landscaping anymore.
“Hey! I’m getting wet—wait a minute.” He pivots toward me, water still splashing his shirt and shorts.
“What? Oh, I’m so sorry.” I giggle.
He steps toward me. Then another step. And another. The running water is the only barrier between
us, our toes wet from the spray. “You did that on purpose, Jenna Anderson.”
My hands shake but not from the cold water. “Guilty as charged.”
He leans in. My heart races. I close my eyes to await his sweet kiss. Instead, I feel the hose strip from my hands.
His voice is soft but more businesslike. “I think it’s time to call it a day. Want some lemonade?”
“Sure. At least that’ll make my lips pucker.”
I’m barely out of Ben’s driveway before I’m dialing Carla’s number, hoping I have enough signal for the call to go through. “Tell me you’re home. I need to see you.”
“Um, hello to you, too. Are you ready for a color touchup?”
“Not yet. There’s a lot you need to know.” Susan’s sob echoes in my mind. “But, here’s news you’ll like. Ben and I nearly kissed.”
“I’m home. Get over here as fast as you can—without speeding or running over flowerboxes.”
Ten minutes later I pull into Carla’s gravel drive. I’m not the only visitor. Will’s truck is closest to the garage entrance.
I climb out of my vehicle and power walk to her side door.
I raise my hand to knock, but she opens the squeaky screen entryway. “Will’s making root beer floats. They aren’t as good as what Wendy makes at Jack Frosty’s, but don’t tell him. He’s as eager to hear the Ben details as I am.” She grabs my elbow and drags me to her small kitchen.
Noah’s in the living room, his video game on pause. “Will, I’m waiting. You know I’m gonna beat you—again.” Noah smirks.
Will pours the sweet liquid in four plastic cups, whistling. He continues his tune while he hands a cup to me and then to Carla. Finally, he grabs the remaining drinks and strolls over to the beanbag chairs. He stops his music when Noah receives his drink. “Game on, son.”
Son?
Carla coughs.
Noah drops his spoon.
Will stutters as he continues. “I mean, um, it’s on brau. Isn’t that the cool word kids your age uses, Noah?”
The middle-schooler nods and hands the controller to Will. Carla takes my arm again.
Entrusted (Adirondack Surrender Series Book 1) Page 13