by Linda Turner
Reaching his side, she gently slipped his glasses off and laid them on the nightstand. He didn’t so much as twitch an eyelash. Lying there with his white hair mussed and his face relaxed in sleep, he looked healthy and whole and strong, and she thanked God for Reilly’s skill as a surgeon. Without him there was a good chance that Dan wouldn’t be there now.
Staring down at him, Sara felt something shift in the region of her heart and tried to convince herself that the tug of emotion she was feeling was perfectly normal. Over the past few days she’d experienced everything from fear to worry to the kind of relief that left even a strong woman weak at the knees. Anyone who’d come that close to losing a lifelong friend would have felt the same. If she was still a little shaky, she had every right to be.
But even as she tried to believe that’s all it was, she couldn’t forget that moment when he’d been in recovery and she’d been allowed to spend a few moments with him. He’d still been groggy from the anesthetic and barely able to keep his eyes open, but hers was the first name he’d said when he’d regained consciousness. And when he’d reached for her and closed his hand around hers, nothing had felt so right since Gus had died.
And that had nothing to do with the fact that they were old friends.
The thought came out of nowhere to steal the breath out of her lungs, and she immediately rejected it. No! she told herself firmly. She wasn’t going there. She and Dan were just buddies, chums who’d fallen into the habit of going out to dinner or the movies or just watching TV with each other several times a week. The only feelings they shared were the affection of old friendship, nothing more or less, and only a foolish old woman would allow herself to think otherwise. She might be on the downhill side of sixty, but she liked to think she was neither old or foolish. She’d only loved one man in her life and that was Gus. That wasn’t going to change at this late date. She was just imagining things.
But even as she tried to convince herself that nothing had changed in her world, her fingers weren’t quite steady as she reached out to adjust the pillow under Dan’s head. Murmuring in his sleep, he shifted into a more-comfortable position, and without quite knowing how it happened, Sara found herself softly stroking his hair.
The second she realized what she was doing, she should have stopped. She certainly meant to. But it was so soft and it had been so long since she’d touched a man’s hair. Transfixed by the silky texture of it, she ran her fingers gently through it and felt her heart constrict with an emotion she couldn’t put a name to.
Suddenly, without warning, she heard the front door open and close, signaling Janey’s return, and she jumped guiltily. What, dear God, was she doing? If Janey walked in right then and found her caressing Dan’s hair, she’d think…it would look like—
Unable to finish the thought, Sara felt hot color burn her cheeks and bit back a rare curse. No one was going to think anything if she’d quit standing there mooning over the man like a teenager who’d just discovered boys!
“Mom?”
Janey’s soft call from the hallway was all it took to galvanize her into action. Assuring herself with a quick glance that Dan was fine and sleeping soundly, she snapped off the light on the nightstand and hurried to the door. She’d barely stepped into the hall when she came face-to-face with Janey.
She could feel a flush warming her cheeks and prayed Janey wouldn’t notice, but she needn’t have worried. Her daughter seemed to be as flustered as she and more than a little distracted. Concerned, she frowned and quickly shut the door to the guest room so they wouldn’t disturb Dan. “What’s wrong?”
Janey would have sworn that her face was perfectly ex pressionless, but she didn’t bother to wonder how her mother knew anything was wrong. For as long as she could remember, Sara had always seemed to know when things weren’t quite right with one of her children. It was just a gift she had, and it was comforting to Janey to know that she was always there to share her problems with.
Normally, Janey wouldn’t have hesitated to sit down with her in the family room and unburden her heart. They’d always been close, and nothing had ever come up that she couldn’t discuss with Sara. Until tonight.
She was a thirty-seven-year-old virgin who’d only had two blind dates in her life. No man had ever shown an interest in her, yet, just moments ago, something had passed between her and Reilly that she couldn’t explain, something that had set her nerve endings tingling and her body humming. And she didn’t know what to make of it. How did she tell her mother something like that? How did she make her understand that all of her life she’d felt out of step with other women because she’d never dated, and now, at thirty-seven, she was feeling emotions she should have experienced in high school. And she didn’t know what to do!
It was embarrassing, frustrating, scary. She wasn’t normally an insecure person—she had all the confidence in the world when it came to her job and everything else in her life. Everything except this. What if she’d imagined the whole thing? she thought, horrified. What if she was the only one who’d felt the attraction? If Reilly somehow found out that she’d blown that moment in the car all out of proportion, she’d be mortified.
Cringing at the thought, she forced a weak smile that did little to reassure her mother. “I’m just distracted,” she fibbed. “I was thinking about a patient.” Deliberately changing the subject, she glanced past her to the closed door of the guest room. “How’s Dan? Did he give you any problems tonight?”
Considering Dan’s surgery had only been two days ago and he’d practically come out of the operating room demanding to go home, Janey didn’t think the question was all that unusual, but suddenly she would have sworn her mother was blushing like a schoolgirl. Surprised, she arched a brow at her. “Mom? Is everything okay? Dan—”
“Is doing fine,” she assured her softly as she motioned her to precede her down the hall to the family room. “He fell asleep during his show and didn’t even hear me turn off the TV. After wearing himself out trying to be Superman today, I don’t think we have to worry about him waking up during the night.”
“His temp’s okay? We can’t take any chances with that. If he starts spiking a fever, there could be an infection.”
“I took his temperature every hour, just as Reilly instructed, until he fell asleep. He’s doing fine. So how was the meeting tonight? It was nice of Reilly to go since Dan and I couldn’t. An extra pair of hands always comes in handy—especially this close to the festival. Everyone must have been painting like crazy.”
Janey would have given anything to agree with her, but she couldn’t have said what the other committee members were doing. All she’d seen was Reilly. “You know how it is,” she said vaguely. “You sort of lose track of time and what’s going on around you. Speaking of time, I’d better get to bed or I’m going to be beat tomorrow.”
“Me, too,” Sara said. “Help me lock up and I’ll walk up with you.”
Together they turned out the downstairs lights and checked to make sure all the doors were locked, then walked up the stairway that Janey’s great-grandfather had built himself when he added on to the house sometime after the Civil War. With a soundless sigh, the house seemed to settle for the night as they wished each other good-night and went their separate ways at the top of the stairs.
Sleeping, after the long day they’d each had, should have been easy after that. Sara had a monitor in case Dan called for help in the middle of the night, so there was no reason for her to lie awake all night listening for him. And Janey really was exhausted. Painting had taken more out of her than she’d realized, and work started early in the morning.
But when they each crawled into their lonely beds a few minutes later and snuggled under the covers, sleep was irritatingly elusive. Lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling, they counted sheep and goats and cows, but nothing helped. Because the two men they were determined not to think of insisted on pushing their way into their thoughts, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do ab
out it.
“Did you hear the news about Janey and Dr. Jones? They were so wrapped up in each other that Hap had to run them out of the VFW Hall last night.”
“He kissed her.”
“No, they were just holding hands…”
The news raced through the nursing home like wildfire the next morning, setting tongues wagging, and no one could have been more pleased at the unexpected turn of events than the group of patients affectionately called the “Busybodies.” Comprised of a handful of gossip-loving old women and a couple of sweet, meddling old geezers, they loved sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. Little escaped their notice—or attention—and there was nothing they enjoyed more than playing matchmaker, especially when one of the parties was someone they were particularly fond of. And there was no one they loved more on the staff than Janey.
“He’s perfect for her, don’t you think?” Abby Hart said dreamily as the group gathered in the TV room after breakfast. “So tall and handsome.”
“You always did have a soft spot for a tall man,” her sister Caroline retorted. “Give me a smart one anyday. And I think Janey’s the same. She’s no dummy, you know. It’ll take a smart man to keep up with her.”
“None of that means a hill of beans if there’s no chemistry,” Henry Perkins argued. “If the gal would just spruce herself up a little, she could have her young man eating out of her hand.”
“Well, she could use a little makeup—”
“And a haircut—”
“Shh! Here she comes!”
Distracted by the call she’d just received from the nursing home’s front desk, Janey rushed through the TV room and didn’t hear a word they said. Hannah Starks’s son, William, had come to visit his mother. It was about damn time! It’d only been a little over a year!
Breathless by the time she reached the front desk, she took only a second to catch her breath before she arched a brow at Renee Jackson, who was working the information desk. “Well? Where is he?”
Without a word Renee nodded toward the visitors’ lounge and the man who paced the length of it with a jerky pace that clearly spoke of his impatience.
Janey took one look at him and recognized him immediately from the pictures that were plastered all over Hannah’s room. Dressed in an expensive black business suit, with his collar buttoned down and his tie knotted tight enough to strangle him, he looked uptight and irritated, as if he was in the last place he wanted to be. He obviously couldn’t wait to be away from there—and his mother—and Janey’s heart broke for poor Hannah. She was a kind, lov ing woman who should have died weeks ago, but she hung on because of William, because she couldn’t even consider dying without seeing him again, and he didn’t seem to care two cents about her. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.
“He looks like a real prize, doesn’t he?” Renee murmured in a nearly soundless voice that wouldn’t carry to where William waited like a man who was late for a meeting with the president. “And just think, Janey—he’s divorced. There’s our chance to go steady.”
“Then by all means—let’s not let him get away,” she said grimly. “We had a hard enough time getting him here.” And with her chin set at a determined angle, she headed straight for him.
“Mr. Starks? I’m Janey McBride,” she said pleasantly. “I spoke to you last week—”
That was as far as she got. Rudely ignoring her outstretched hand, he scowled down at her and said coldly, “I don’t have a lot of time, Miss McBride. I have to be back in Seattle this evening for a political fund-raiser, so if you’d just show me to my mother’s room, we can get this over with.”
The CEO of a highly successful computer chip company, William Starks might have run his company like a dictator, but Janey had no intention of letting him do the same to her. Far from intimidated by him, she met his hard gaze with one of her own and stood right where she was.
“In a minute, Mr. Starks. First we need to get a few things straight. Your mother knows nothing about our conversation last week. For her sake it would be best if we kept it that way. She doesn’t need to know that the only reason you’re here is because I called you. That would only hurt her, and I’m sure you don’t want to do that.”
He didn’t like that, but he’d walked in with a chip on his shoulder, and Janey didn’t care. Hannah was her patient and the only one she was concerned about. “If you care anything at all about your mother,” she continued, “you’ll let her think this visit was all your idea.”
His mouth compressed into a hard, flat line, he wanted to tell her to go to hell—Janey could see the angry resentment in his eyes—but he obviously realized that if he did that, it really would look like he was more concerned with himself than he was Hannah. So he reined in his temper and nodded curtly. “Fine. Where’s her room?”
“In the east wing,” she replied, satisfied. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the way.”
Outside the door to Hannah’s room, Janey stopped and said quietly, “I’d like to go in first and prepare her for your visit. She hasn’t had any visitors for a while, and the sudden shock might be more than her heart can stand. So if you’ll just wait here, I’ll call you in in just a second.”
Not giving him a chance to reply, she swept inside to find Hannah lying in bed and staring lethargically out the window. She’d done little else for the past few weeks. Hiding her concern behind a bright smile, Janey said, “Good morning, Miss Hannah. I see breakfast wasn’t to your liking this morning.” On the table next to the bed sat her breakfast tray, which had hardly been touched. “Don’t worry— I’m not going to scold you. I have something I think you’ll like much better. How about a visitor? Do you think you’re up to seeing someone this morning?”
For a moment, Janey didn’t think she was going to respond. Then interest flickered in her eyes, followed by a hope that was almost painful to watch. “William?”
Smiling, Janey nodded. “He’s waiting outside in the hall. I thought you might like to spruce yourself up a little before you saw him.”
“Oh, yes! My rouge—I’m sure I need some color in my cheeks. And my comb.” Struggling to sit up straighter, she looked around with a frown. “Where is my purse? I never can remember where I put it.”
Thrilled that she was so excited, Janey laughed. “Hang on. It’s right here in the cabinet where it always is. Let me get you a mirror.”
It only took a few moments to fluff her hair and add a glow of color to the delicate parchment skin of her cheeks and lips, then Janey stepped to the door. “Your mother’s ready to see you now,” she told William quietly. “Please, come in.”
The wait hadn’t improved his mood, and with a scowl he strode across the threshold, only to stop short when he spied the pictures of himself spread all around the room. The photos captured him at all ages, chronicling his life from boyhood to maturity in a collection of family snapshots that he had, no doubt, long since forgotten. Most of them had been taken when he was a boy and life had yet to carve his face with maturity, but there were some recent ones of him at social functions that Hannah had clipped from the Seattle paper, which she had delivered to her daily.
Watching him closely, Janey saw shock flash in his eyes and knew he hadn’t had a clue that his mother had created a virtual shrine of him in her room. It was a humbling experience. Hesitating, he stood flat-footed, and in the blink of an eye, his entire attitude changed. His hostility vanished, as did his impatience, and when his eyes met his mother’s, the hard line of his mouth actually softened into a crooked smile.
“Hello, Mother,” he said gruffly. “How are you?”
The smile that bloomed across her face was so sweet, so loving, that just seeing it brought the sting of tears to Janey’s eyes. “I’m better now that you’re here,” Hannah said, holding out a hand to him. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Reaching her in two strides, William took her hand, and that was all Janey needed to see. Pleased, she turned and slipped out into the hall, quiet
ly shutting the door behind her.
To his credit, William Starks didn’t rush his visit with his mother. He spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon with Hannah, and when he left, he promised her that he would be back the following week to see her, and this time he would stay the weekend.
Thrilled, Hannah couldn’t stop talking about him. “He’s such a good-looking boy,” she told Janey later that afternoon. “Don’t you think so? Just like his father.” A fond smile playing about her mouth, she sighed in remembrance. “I’ll never forget the first time I met Bill. My, he was something! So tall and handsome. I took one look at him and forgot my name.” Grinning, she laughed softly. “We were married fifty years, and he never let me forget that.”
It had been weeks since she’d reminisced about the past or shown any spark of interest in life, and now she was practically beaming with happiness. Checking her pulse, Janey grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so bubbly. I’m glad you had such a good day.”
“It was wonderful, the best Christmas present I ever had. Thank you.”
Surprised, Janey blinked. “I beg your pardon? Why are you thanking me? Your son—”
“Would never have come if it hadn’t been for you,” she finished for her with a knowing smile. “I don’t know what you said to him to convince him to visit me, but I know you had to do something. That’s why I want to give you this.”
When she reached under her pillow and pulled out a small box wrapped in Christmas paper, Janey looked at it suspiciously. “What is it?”
Smiling, Hannah held it out to her. “An early Christmas present. Open it.”
Janey didn’t want to. She’d done what she could to convince William to visit Hannah because she cared for her. She wanted nothing in return, but she didn’t want to hurt her feelings, either. Reluctantly she took the present and unwrapped it.