The Heavenly Bites Novella Collection

by Christine S. Feldman

  Doyle said nothing.

  “But it doesn’t have to be like that. Don’t you want to get out there and grab just a little bit of life for yourself? Something?” She was torn between the desire to encourage him and the urge to shake him. “Well? Don’t you have anything to say to that?”

  More silence.

  “See, that’s the kind of thing I mean. No reaction, no fire. It’s like you’ve got ice water in your veins. You—”

  Her words were cut off as Doyle pulled her toward him and stopped her mouth with his so abruptly that it took a moment for it to register in Aimee’s mind that he was, in fact, kissing her—and doing a very thorough job of it. He lifted her off her feet as he pressed her back against a bookcase and dislodged several books in the process, which tumbled down to the floor around them, and all Aimee could think to do was hold on to him tightly and try to remember to breathe.

  He released her mouth from his as suddenly as he’d captured it to begin with, and had he not continued to hold on to Aimee, she likely would have slid to the floor. Before she could master either coherent thought again or at least control over her legs, Doyle turned her toward the front door and very firmly escorted her over before opening it and thrusting her outside.

  She stumbled out and turned around just in time to see him close the door behind her.

  Aimee blinked and put a hand to her lips.

  Well, he certainly hadn’t learned how to do that from a book…

  Chapter Seven

  “And you didn’t pound on his door and ask what was up with that?” Trish asked Aimee the next day, turning to look at her from where she was wiping the bakery’s few tables clean.

  Nadia leaned on the counter and raised an eyebrow. “Or ask him to do it again?”

  “In my defense,” Aimee said, playing idly with the buttons on the cash register as she mentally relived the previous day’s encounter, “I think my brain had just imploded, so I wasn’t thinking too clearly.”

  “Sounds promising,” said Nadia, straightening. “Brain implosion is a sure sign he’s good with his lips, and if he’s good with his lips…” She let the words trail off with a knowing look.

  “This guy is a mystery to me. Everything on the outside says ‘keep out,’ but I swear it’s like there’s something in his eyes now and then that sends a completely different message. And you know, I’m not even sure he knows he’s sending it,” Aimee added after a moment’s consideration. “How’s that for confusing?”

  “Well, his lips sure did the talking yesterday, didn’t they?” Nadia’s mouth curved up on one side. “In more ways than one. What message did they send you?”

  “Not sure yet. Something along the lines of ‘yowza’ maybe. Unfortunately, that’s a little vague.”

  “Are you kidding? Sounds pretty clear to me.”

  “Yeah, well not when it’s followed by being booted out the front door. Like I said, I can’t figure him out.”

  Trish left the tables to join the other two women at the counter. “But you’d like to.”

  “Maybe,” Aimee admitted. “I get the feeling there’s more to him than I thought, and I’m just, well…”

  “Yeah?” Trish prompted her.

  She was at a loss to explain exactly what she meant, so she finally settled for a word that felt completely insufficient. “Curious.”

  “Curious,” Nadia repeated, and then she snorted with disbelief. “Curious is ‘gee, I wonder what you’d get if you crossed a koala with a pot-bellied pig.’ It’s not ‘I wonder if hooking up with him would ruin me for all other men’. That’s not curiosity, that’s chemistry, and it sounds like you two might just have it up to your eyeballs, sweetie.”

  “Chemistry? We drive each other nuts. Well, mostly.”

  Shrugging, Nadia turned to head into the bakery’s kitchen. “Opposites attract, girlfriend. That’s all I’m saying,” she called back over her shoulder as she left the room.

  “That is not all she’s saying, is it?” Aimee asked Trish.

  “It seldom is. Hey, aren’t you the one who told Nadia she ought to just jump Benji and see what happened?” An impish expression crossed Trish’s face, and she nudged Aimee. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

  Maybe she should, if only to see what kind of a reaction she’d get out of Doyle. The brief glimpses she’d gotten so far of whatever lay buried beneath his surface left her wondering what would happen if he stopped trying so hard to keep it buried. She put one hand to her lips, remembering what his had felt like on hers.

  “Wait—you’re actually considering it, aren’t you?” Trish’s eyes widened. “I was just kidding, Aimee.”

  “I’m not.”

  Trish gave her a funny look.

  Aimee’s cell phone rang then, and she pulled it from the depths of her apron pocket to glance at the number displayed. “Gram?” she said, answering it. “What’s up? I’ve still got an hour until my lunch break—”

  “Aimee? Oh, Aimee—”

  Never in her life had Aimee heard her grandmother sound so agitated, and she immediately tensed up. “What’s wrong?”

  Trish frowned and gave Aimee a questioning look.

  “Theodore collapsed. We were just chatting here on the couch, and—and—”

  “Did you call 911?”

  “Yes, the paramedics are coming, but he’s having chest pains, Aimee. I don’t know—should I—”

  “I’m on my way, Gram,” Aimee said tersely, whipping off her apron and grabbing the coat that Trish held out wordlessly to her. “I’m going to call Ms. Potter next door and ask her to come sit with you, and I’ll be there in five minutes. Okay? Have you called Doyle?”

  “No, I—he’s at the university today.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I’m calling Ms. Potter now, all right?”

  “Yes, dear. Please hurry.”

  “I will.” She ended the call and looked at Trish, wide-eyed, as she scrambled to put on her coat.

  “Go. Call us if you need us,” Trish told her.

  Aimee nodded, and then two seconds later she was out the door and running.

  * * *

  Hospitals were relatively new to Aimee. Other than being born in one, she had never really had occasion to step foot inside. And as she sat in the waiting room beside Gram and looked in the faces of the few other people there, anxious strangers waiting for news about their loved ones, it sank in to her that she had been luckier than most in that respect but had never realized it until now.

  Gram had been in her fair share of hospitals before, though, back when Aimee’s grandfather had still been alive. Although she’d been far too young when he died to remember much about him, Aimee did know he was in very poor health for the last couple years of his life. There had been plenty of doctors, plenty of medications, and plenty of trips to the hospital, particularly near the end.

  Gram, she was sure, remembered every detail and was likely reliving more than a few of them right now.

  Aimee gave Gram’s hand an encouraging squeeze and then checked her watch only to see that just two minutes had past since the last time she’d checked it. Still no update from the doctor, and still no sign of Doyle despite the fact that the university receptionist had assured Aimee she’d notify him as soon as possible about what had happened to his uncle.

  Gram sat very still and quietly beside her granddaughter, almost alarmingly the opposite of what she’d been like when Aimee first reached the apartment.

  “Hey,” Aimee said to her softly, giving her a gentle nudge. “You okay?”

  The older woman didn’t answer her, and when Aimee looked closer, she thought she saw her lip tremble.

  “He’s in good hands, Gram.”

  After a moment, Gram nodded.

  At a loss and feeling hopelessly inadequate at offering much in the way of comfort, Aimee finally settled for squeezing the other woman’s hand again.

  A flicker of movement caught her attention then, and Aimee looked up to see Do
yle burst through the waiting room doors and make a beeline toward the front desk without even noticing Gram and Aimee.

  “Doyle!” Aimee sprang up from her chair and hurried over to intercept him.

  He turned toward her, his eyes wider than usual. “Where is he? Is he all right?”

  “We haven’t heard anything since they took him back. He was conscious, though.”

  “How did it happen? Where was he? I don’t—” His voice faltered, and when he ran his hands through his hair in agitation, Aimee noticed they were shaking.

  She put her hand on his arm, intending to soothe him. “Why don’t you come sit down and—”

  “Aimee.”

  The unfamiliar sound of her name on his lips startled her into stopping midsentence, and she let her hand fall away from his arm.

  “Just—tell me what happened,” he said, his voice clipped and full of anxiety. “Please.”

  She took a deep breath, and then words started tumbling out. “He and Gram were at the apartment after lunch. They were talking, and then he started to feel funny. Pains in his chest, trouble breathing—they called 911 right away. The paramedics were wonderful, Doyle. You should have seen how fast they got him here.”

  He held his head in his hands as if it hurt, the muscles in his jaw more taut than she had ever seen them before. “He should have been resting. He’s been pushing himself too hard lately. I knew this whole thing was a bad idea.”

  “Wait—you mean Theodore and Gram?” Aimee asked, startled.

  Doyle continued muttering as if he hadn’t heard her. “He should have been home taking it easy instead of trying to pretend he was a man thirty years younger.”

  “What—”

  “Going halfway across town every other day, using up energy he hasn’t got. Things were fine before—” He stopped abruptly as he caught sight of her expression, and then he finally seemed to notice Gram sitting several feet away. “Look,” he said more quietly, averting his eyes and nodding his head almost imperceptibly toward the older woman. “This isn’t good for her either. She’s upset. You should take her home, all right?”

  Feeling a bit like she’d just been smacked in the face, Aimee managed a nod.

  Then Doyle turned away without another word and went to speak to the woman at the front desk, and for the first time in her life, Aimee could think of nothing to say.

  * * *

  Dinner at their apartment was both late and very quiet. Neither Gram nor Aimee had much of an appetite, and in the end Aimee put both of their plates of food back in the fridge, barely touched.

  They sat silently in the living room, waiting for the phone to ring with news about Theodore. Gram was paler than usual, and Aimee watched her with an ache in her chest and Doyle’s words on her mind.

  When the phone finally did ring, it was Gram who answered it. “Hello?” She put a trembling hand to her heart. “Oh, Doyle, dear—how is he?”

  What followed was several minutes of mostly silence on Gram’s end, punctuated now and then by a “yes” or “uh huh” or even a nod of her head as though she’d forgotten Doyle couldn’t see her. The tension in her face relaxed slightly as she listened to whatever he told her, and Aimee suddenly realized she’d been holding her breath. She finally let it out when Gram hung up the phone.

  “He’s all right,” the older woman said, relief in her voice but her hands still trembling. “That is to say, they think he’s going to be all right. It was a heart attack, but fortunately a milder one.”

  “But he’s out of danger?”

  “They’re keeping a close eye on him, of course, but the doctors think they’ll be able to move him out of the ICU and into a private room in a couple of days.”

  “Oh, Gram—” Aimee left her seat to join Gram on the couch and put her arms around her. “I’m so glad.”

  Gram nodded then and pressed her lips together as if it had become too difficult for her to speak. “I think,” she managed finally, “that I’m going to go lie down. I know it’s early, but I’m very tired.”

  “You want some tea or anything? I could—”

  “No, no, dear. I just need some rest.” Patting her granddaughter’s hand, Gram rose from the couch with more effort than usual and moved slowly down the hallway.

  Aimee watched her go, and despite the good news they had just received, the ache in her heart only seemed to grow worse. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hugging them close while she stared thoughtfully into space.

  It was a long time before she went to bed.

  * * *

  Aimee stood in front of Doyle’s apartment, took a deep breath, and raised her hand to knock on his door for the third time that evening. There was no answer this time, either. She wasn’t exactly surprised. Not that she thought he was dodging her, because the apartment was quiet and dark—and anyway, she suspected that if he wasn’t at the university, he was most likely at the hospital with his uncle where they had left him yesterday.

  And if he had been home? What would she have said to him? She really didn’t know. But surely she ought to say something.

  She’d spent the entire day hovering over Gram to the point where she very likely made a pest of herself, but after seeing how wan the older woman had looked last night, she couldn’t help herself. And the whole time she’d been painfully aware that if it was like that for her, it must be so much worse for Doyle.

  Things were fine before…

  She felt a stab of guilt and wondered if Doyle had been more right than she’d initially thought.

  And then she finally turned and headed back to the elevator.

  Chapter Eight

  The next afternoon, Aimee knocked softly on the door to Theodore’s new room in the hospital, and then she and Gram both cautiously poked their heads inside.

  It was indeed a private room, and Theodore lay resting beneath the blankets of the lone bed inside of it. He was paler than usual, but when he saw who his visitors were, his face lit up with pleasure in a way that was reassuring. “Now here’s the proper medicine for a man in need,” he greeted them, smiling and with his eyes on Gram. The twinkle in them was fainter than usual, but it was nice to see it there nevertheless.

  Gram sat in the chair beside his bed, and Theodore reached to take her hand in his. “You gave us quite a scare, you know,” Gram chided him, and Aimee saw her squeeze his hand. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t do it again.”

  “Delia, my dear, I promise I shall do my best.” Theodore finally turned his attention to Aimee. “That smile on your face looks a little forced, young lady. I must look worse than I thought.”

  “No, no,” she hastened to assure him, and she tried to widen her smile but had the feeling it looked anything but natural. “You look good, Theodore. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Aren’t we all.” He gave her a tired but cheeky grin.

  “I’m just sorry this happened to you.”

  “Such is life, my dear,” Theodore said, and he appeared to be the least fazed out of all of them by the current situation. “These poor, frail bodies of ours do keep us on our toes, don’t they?”

  Poor frail bodies... She just hadn’t realized how frail until now, and she had spent the last couple of days second-guessing every romantic nudge she’d given the pair since that initial dinner party at the apartment. “Listen…” she started, struggling to find the right words.

  Something in her expression must have alarmed Gram, because the older woman’s brow abruptly furrowed. “Aimee, dear, what’s wrong?”

  “I just want to say that if I pushed you guys into overdoing it these past couple of weeks, I’m so sorry.” There wasn’t another chair in the room, so Aimee settled for squatting down beside her grandmother and earnestly laying a hand on her arm. “But I honestly never thought anything like this would happen.”

  “Pushed us?” Gram repeated, blinking at her with bewildered eyes from behind her huge spectacles. She adjusted the lenses
as if doing so might help her make better sense of Aimee’s comment.

  “You know—into doing too much. Going out more often than you should.” That last lunch outing had been her idea, after all. As if the specials at La Bella Rosa couldn’t have waited one more day. If she hadn’t suggested it… “I got gung ho about it, and I probably should have backed off.”

  “Oh, Aimee. Is that why you’ve been so quiet?” Gram clucked her tongue and patted Aimee’s hand where it rested on her arm. “Don’t be silly, dear. You didn’t push us into doing anything. We’re not puppets on a string, you know.” And she gave Aimee a look that made her believe it.

  Theodore pointed a gnarled finger at Aimee. “You’ve been talking to my nephew, haven’t you?”

  “Not since all this happened.” And that bothered her more than it would have a few weeks ago.

  “Well, he’s been throwing the same kind of nonsense at me, poor boy, and it sounds to me like he must have been at it with you, too. Now listen very carefully, because I’m going to tell you the same thing I told him. All right?”

  “All right,” she agreed.

  He beckoned for her to lean in.

  She did.

  And with that, Theodore put his tongue between his lips and blew a loud and quite definitive raspberry in the air.

  Aimee bit back a startled laugh. “I’ll bet that went over just great.”

  “Yes, I got quite a lecture. I finally had to threaten to have the nurses throw him out. Hmph. Tell me what to do.”

  The disgruntled look on Theodore’s face was almost comical, but Aimee couldn’t help but remember the very different look on Doyle’s face the last time she’d seen him, and that memory had a very sobering effect. “He was really freaked out by all this, though. You mean a lot to him.”

  Theodore’s frown softened. “I know.” After a moment, he sighed. “He’s been hit with so many things that he’s been conditioned to expect the worst. Can’t help himself. Lost his father when he was just a little thing, his mother years later—they were very close, you know, he and my sister. And in the end he spent a lot of time with her in hospitals.” He eyed the stark walls of his room and the monitor beside his bed. “Can’t be easy for him to spend much time in this one.”