On The Dotted Line

by Kim Carmichael

  Randolph held the door open. “Come on. I doubt you ate, and we can’t have you getting ill as well.”

  Her cheeks heated. Gone went the protective husband, and in his place the businessman returned. He was as upset as she. Was it Nan or something else? On wobbly legs she stood and followed Randolph out.

  Never forgetting his manners, he guided her through the maze of hospital hallways, over to a wall of elevators and pushed the button. Inside, he slipped the card in a slot and pushed the button to the eighth floor.

  For the entire ride they didn’t speak, but she gasped when the doors opened.

  No antiseptic smell, no stark white sterile setting, no oppressive stares. Instead she was met with dark wood paneling, light classical music, fresh flowers and plush furniture. “What is this?” The long corridor looked as if it could be a wing of the mansion rather than a hospital.

  “May I help you?” A nurse came around the corner.

  “Nanette Riviera is being brought up here,” Randolph told her.

  “Yes, we’re readying her room. Please go make yourself comfortable in the lounge, and we’ll let you know when the suite is ready.” She smiled. “Will you be staying here the night?”

  “Yes.” Without any hesitation, Randolph answered.

  “Not a problem.” The woman’s sing-song voice washed over the room matching the music. “Have a bite to eat, and give us just a little time. We also have complimentary Wi-Fi, so make yourselves at home.”

  Once the nurse left, they made their way to a matching room to the hallway and contained what appeared to be a buffet of food. Everything from fresh fruit and salads and hot steaming silver domed chafing dishes.

  Rather than going for the food, she took a seat on one of the overstuffed brown leather couches.

  She watched Randolph take off his overcoat and put it on a coat rack. Even with the slight wrinkles, his suit fit him to a tee. The man could have stepped off a runway and right into a boardroom. He went over to the bar, took two mini bottles of wine and two glasses and joined her, but at the far end of the couch.

  While he busied himself with his phone and sending out a few text messages and pouring the wine, she continued to stare at him.

  He slid one of the glasses down to her. “One of the staff is on the way with some clothes for us. They’re also packing a bag for Nan. I hope you don’t mind, but Peter will be dropping off some work for me.”

  “They have free Wi-Fi.” She lifted her glass and stared at the dark red liquid. Her chest wanted to collapse under the weight of unsaid words. “Thank you for coming here and helping me and for the insurance. You don’t have to stay.” She still didn’t understand where they ended up. Part of her wanted to rejoice her problems were fixed but another wanted to cry for the people who didn’t have her false luxury.

  “I know I’m not a stupid man, but right now I care to differ.” He shook his head and drank the glass down, wincing at what was no doubt a substandard vintage.

  “What makes you say that?”

  He let out a lone laugh, but didn’t answer.

  “Why?” She took a sip of the wine and wrinkled her nose. Something must be wrong with the beverage or with her to notice.

  “If it’s all the same with you, I’ll stay with you and Nan tonight.” He loosened his tie. “I want to know why you didn’t call me.”

  The emptiness in her chest turned into a full on ache. She shrugged again.

  “Damn it, Willow, then answer me this, why didn’t you use your last name?” He pressed his fingers into his temple.

  “It won’t be mine forever.” At her admission her breath caught. She hated her real last name, it wasn’t attached to anything or anyone, but with Randolph her last name went back to the pilgrims. Sometimes she wished she could be one of those people who only went by a first name.

  “No matter what ever happens between us, you may always have my last name to do with as you please.” He shook his head. “You’re probably one of the only people who has ever truly earned it.”

  For hours, maybe for years, she fought the urge to cry. Yes, her eyes filled with tears too many times to count, but she didn’t cry, didn’t have time, couldn’t let go. Randolph’s gift meant more than any money, her shop, anything. Maybe at the end of the day it was all he had to give, and the emotion of everything surfaced.

  Instinct took over and she slid over to his side, leaned in and hugged him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent she would be able to recognize the rest of her life. At last she let the tears out.

  “Willow.” He took her into his arms, held her tight and ran his hands through her hair. “It’s going to be all right. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

  She tensed and held back telling him he wouldn’t always be there.

  He took her shoulders and pushed her back. “Look at me.”

  When her eyes met his, her cheeks heated at his intense focus on her.

  “Like my name, I will always be here for you.”

  She pressed her lips together trying to stop crying. The tears fell anyway. He might say the words, might even mean them, but what happened in a year? Why did she know that document even existed? What was real and what was the man she first met trying to get his way?

  He wiped her tears away. “Incredible.”

  “What is?” Damn her for leaning into his touch.

  “The color of your eyes. I’ve never seen anything like it.” His fingertip traveled across her cheek, down her jawline and traced her lower lip.

  She shivered.

  “Do you think once we get Nan home and she is better we can try to recapture what we had today?” He moved her hair away from her face. “Maybe we can go over to the Marina Del Rey Apartment? Would you like that?”

  “I want to watch you create something.” Unable to stop herself, she reached over and uncurled one of his curls watching it spring back.

  He pulled her close, pressing her head down on his shoulder. “I’m trying my hardest.”

  Tired of the struggle, she cuddled up to his side. They sat together in this strange space, and he continued to stroke her hair while she toyed with his dark blue tie with the tiny white dots. She should have never tried to choose clothes for him.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Van Ayers?” The happy nurse who greeted them before came into the lounge or waiting room, or whatever.

  At the intrusion she jolted up, her body protesting at the sudden movement. All she wanted was to lie back down on Randolph. “Yes.”

  “That’s us.” Randolph sat up.

  “The patient is in her room, and you’re more than welcome to join her now.” The nurse smiled.

  “How is she?” Randolph asked the question before she could make a coherent sentence.

  “She is stabilized and sleeping. We’ll set you up in the adjoining room.” The woman motioned for them to follow.

  Randolph put his arm around her.

  As they walked out, she grabbed his overcoat off the hook and hugged it to herself. A silly thing a lovesick pre-teen would do, but she was married to a man who looked like a teen idol no matter what the circumstances.

  “Are you cold?” He rubbed her shoulder.

  “Not really.”

  “She called you Mrs. Van Ayers.” He chuckled. “You answered to your name.”

  Her name. He offered to let her keep it, but truth be told she couldn’t be a Van Ayers without him.

  * * * *

  “This is not a hospital.” Nan glanced down at the IV in her arm and back to Willow. “Chiquita, what is this place?”

  “It’s called a V.I.P. suite. Some people pay extra to have certain amenities. That’s how Randolph and I got to stay with you last night. There’s another room over there.” She pointed toward the second bedroom. Their hospital room reminded her more of a fancy hotel on television rather than a hospital.

  “Why do we get this and no one else?” Nan shook her head.

  “It would be amazin
g if everyone could have something like this, but it is suites like this one that help generate extra revenue for the hospital, and the money made here, helps fund other programs people need.” Fine, she also asked the same question more than once. “Randolph explained it before he left for work.”

  Nan tilted her head. “I understand.”

  “I’m just thankful…” Willow took her hand. “I’m just thankful Randolph could do this for you.” A little while after Nan was brought to their suite, they met with Dr. Huntley and an endocrinologist. Later, Lillian arrived with Mr. Van Ayers, Dimitri, changes of clothes and a flower arrangement that rivaled a royal wedding. Peter also swung by with work and well wishes, followed by more flowers and phone calls from Jade and Slate. At everyone’s concern, her heart filled.

  Once alone, she couldn’t help herself and curled up with Randolph on the bed in their suite, watching him get some work done and do a little sketching. She must have dozed off because when she woke in the middle of the night to check on Nan he had her in his arms asleep and the picture of Nan and Jeb on her pillow. Where she used to wish for a mattress, nothing would ever compare to him and she couldn’t shake the thought he didn’t want her past their first anniversary no matter how incredible he acted. Even when he gave her his name, he qualified the gift, said it was hers no matter what happened. His words didn’t speak of a man who wanted anything long term, but his actions said different.

  “Chiquita, your eyes are dark, full of questions. The doctor told you I am going to be okay.” Nan squeezed her hand. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you got sick.” She shut her eyes. Even with Nan there speaking to her, if she envisioned getting Jade’s phone call her stomach spiraled as if it were happening in the present. “I should have been with you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  Willow shook her head. “I left for nothing.” If she stayed with Nan she wouldn’t have gone to the office, wouldn’t have found that document. Damn, she needed to find the note, no longer could she hide, and pretend painful items didn’t exist if she didn’t talk about them. She bit her lip, the guilt returning along with a nice bout of nausea for a side dish. “I’m just a terrible person.”

  “Look at me.” Nan’s tone hardened.

  She opened her eyes and stared down at the woman who basically raised her.

  “Tell me what you love about him.”

  “Nan.” She tried to pull her hand away. “This isn’t about him.”

  “Your world is about him and there’s no reason you shouldn’t love him.” Nan held tight. “Tell me what you love.”

  “I saw something.” She needed to let the news or the confession out.

  “Was it something you were meant to see?” Nan lifted her chin.

  She shrugged. Even with Randolph at the office, she glanced over her shoulder and back to Nan.

  “Did you search for it or did you stumble into it?”

  She lowered her head and studied how Nan held her hand. Not too long ago her hand disappeared inside the protection of the woman lying in the hospital bed. Somewhere along the way her hand caught up.

  “When you search you end up with what you deserve good or bad, when you stumble, you can fall.”

  “I stumbled, then I searched.” She got what she deserved and she fell flat on her face.

  “I hope no one is stumbling.”

  What appeared to be an entire Rose Parade float entered the room along with dozens of multi-colored and metallic balloons.

  Willow watched while the man put the oversized arrangement down. “Mr. Hartford?” Only the fact the man was Randolph’s account stopped her from jumping up and spreading her arms out to protect her Nan.

  “Vincent. I must look a sight.” Nan’s voice lowered.

  Willow spun back to Nan, was the woman trying to be sexy in a hospital? Nan never cared what she looked like.

  “Nanette.” Mr. Hartford let the balloons soar to the ceiling. “You are always gorgeous.” Without asking for proper permission he came around the side of the bed, gave Nan two kisses on the cheek, one a bit close to her mouth, took her hand and sat.

  Nan giggled. She actually giggled. Her eyes sparkled and she sat up straighter. “What are you doing here?”

  Willow wanted to ask the same question but with a less breathy voice. Yes, Nan called him earlier, but a hospital visit took a relationship to the next level. The man could have just sent a tasteful vase, not arrived with a florist’s shop.

  “How can you ask such a question?” Mr. Hartford reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a little stuffed heart with a happy face. “I knew not to get you candy.”

  Nan smiled and took the gift. “You got me enough.”

  “Not nearly.” He winked. “But I did take the liberty of hiring a holistic nutritionist for when you are out, and I thought we could both take some cooking classes together.”

  Willow ground her teeth together.

  “You just want me to cook for you again.” Nan teased.

  “It was delicious.” He made a little noise of contentment.

  They chuckled that low chuckle shared between two people who knew each other a little too well.

  Willow didn’t belong here and shot off the bed.

  “Chiquita?”

  “I’m going to take a quick walk and let the two of you be alone.” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. If she didn’t belong with Nan where did she belong?

  “Hold on.” Nan motioned for her to come back.

  She returned to Nan’s side.

  “Answer my question. Tell me why.”

  Mr. Hartford did her the favor of glancing at his phone.

  “He takes care of me, I feel safe when he’s around.” She took a breath. “I want to take care of him, but…” But she wanted him to be there after he turned thirty-four, or at least know there was the possibility.

  Nan grabbed her hand and pulled her down. “That’s how it should be.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Whatever you saw, if it didn’t cause you to slap him across the face then let him kiss the scraped knees you got when you stumbled.” Nan gave her a smile, the same one she used when she actually fixed scraped knees.

  “What if –”

  “Don’t you tell me he doesn’t love you. You just told me he takes care of you, and that is how a real man shows his love.”

  “I should have been with you.” She repeated and peeked over at Mr. Hartford again. “At least I thought so.” Of course she didn’t hire a nutritionist.

  “No, this is how it works.” Nan pulled her down for a hug and spoke into her ear. “You and me, we are more than blood. We will always be together, but I did my job and raised a magnificent woman and now we are equals.”

  She pulled back slightly and took in Nan’s profile. Through the tears in her eyes, the woman who raised her appeared out of focus, but Willow could still make her out.

  “Go love him and don’t be scared. Whatever you saw, let him know. Let him pick you up after your fall. It’s not my job anymore.” Nan kissed her cheek. “Nothing is ever certain, there are no rules. Maybe you met him this way because it was the only way you would allow yourself to fall in love.”

  She pressed her lips against Nan’s cheek. Necessary or not, her wonderful words still left a hole in her heart. She stood. “I’m going to go take that walk.”

  Nan nodded.

  With a sigh, she backed out of the room taking in Mr. Hartford and Nan together.

  “Careful.” Randolph came up behind her and caught her. “Don’t want you tripping.”

  She looked backward, up at the man she married. No matter the angle, he was a sight to behold. “What are you doing here?” It seemed the question of the hour.

  He bent down and kissed her nose. “I wanted to make sure someone took care of you while you took care of Nan.”

  “You want to take care of me?” She managed to get herself into
his arms.

  “It’s becoming my favorite past time.” He took hold of her waist. “I can do my work here.”

  “I want to take care of you.” She let her admission out.

  He kissed her lips. “I think maybe we should just take care of each other and toss away the score sheet. I have enough of those in my life.”

  At his words, she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his neck and give him a real kiss, soft but lingering. Her husband had the right idea and she needed to take Nan’s advice. “That sounds like a plan.” Maybe her plan would outweigh his contract.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Willow.” With his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, he pushed them both up against a wall near a huge abandoned factory in a questionable area of Long Beach.

  “Is this the spot?” She turned toward the dilapidated wall.

  “Willow.” Breathless, he held his hand out. Armed only with a paintbrush, he purposely brought his wife into an area that might be deemed unsafe. “This is not a good idea.”

  “I want to watch you paint.” She moved in front of him.

  “We’re going to get arrested.” In all the Van Ayers generations of men, he was certain no one took their bride directly to the scene of the crime.

  “We aren’t doing anything bad. We are turning something ugly into something beautiful.” A smile took over her face.

  “You’re beautiful.” He pressed his palm to her face, loving how she looked in her all black attire, pants, sweater and her hair up in a cap. His little gorgeous criminal. “Graffiti is technically illegal.”

  “Then it’s a good thing that you are creating art and not graffiti.” She moved back and faced the wall once more. “You’ve never been caught.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “You wanted me to catch you.” She rubbed her hands together. “How did you pick this place? When did you find it?”

  For the first time in at least two weeks his Willow was back, blushing and sweet and soft with a bit of edge. Ever since Nan returned from the hospital, he watched her run herself ragged trying to take care of everything. If being a workaholic was contagious, he gave his illness to Willow and he needed to find a cure.