Aimee (A Time for Love Book 3)

by Phelps, Brandi

  Sometime later, she woke from a light sleep to find a nurse at Frank’s bedside. She checked his pulse and blood pressure and changed the IV bag. Frank’s eyes were open, but he didn’t speak, just shook his head when the nurse asked if he was in any pain.

  Once she left, Aimee moved to his bedside. “How are you feeling?”

  Frank started to speak. He coughed and motioned for Aimee to give him some water, the only liquid he was currently allowed. She poured ice water into the plastic cup and held it so he could sip from the straw. When he finished, he leaned back and cleared his throat.

  “Aimee.”

  He did remember her. Aimee smiled. “Yes?”

  He didn’t return the smile. His face remained solemn, and when he spoke, the words were flat and unfriendly.

  “Why did you bring me back?”

  Chapter 20

  For a moment, Aimee was too shocked to speak. “To save you!” she finally sputtered. “You could’ve died!”

  “I know.” He looked away from her. “Supposed to happen,” he mumbled.

  “But it didn’t! You’re here now. You have a second chance.” She leaned forward and took his hand where it lay on the blanket.

  He tensed but didn’t pull away. Aimee studied him. His eyelids were still heavy, as if the effects of the anesthetic used during surgery had not completely worn off. Against the stark white of the hospital bed, he looked almost frail, with no sign of the strength that was so much a part of him. Certainly he’d lost weight since he’d left, but it was more than a physical loss. He seemed like a different person.

  She’d noticed the change when she first saw him on the battlefield, but she’d put it down to pain and trauma. Was something else going on?

  Whatever it was, they could talk about it later. Frank was already on the verge of falling asleep again. She held his hand and watched him until her back cramped and she had to change positions. Once or twice he muttered something, and Aimee thought she caught the word “frogs,” but she could have been mistaken.

  By the time he awoke again, Tish and Lucas had returned, and for the rest of the afternoon, she had no opportunity for a private conversation.

  The nurse on duty shooed them all out of his room while she checked his vitals and changed his IV, and when they returned, he was lying back against a stack of pillows, and the room lights were dimmed.

  Tish took the hint. “Do you need anything?” When Frank shook his head, she said, “I’ll head home then and let you get some sleep. I’ll be back tomorrow. Aimee, do you need a ride?”

  Aimee shook her head. “I’m staying.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Lucas offered.

  Before Aimee could argue, Frank raised his head. “Lucas stay,” he said.

  His words stung Aimee, but she managed to speak calmly. “Then I guess I do need a ride. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  She left the room before Frank could see the tears that filled her eyes. Tish chatted as they walked to the parking garage, and once they were on their way, she said gently, “Give him time, Aimee. People deal with traumatic experiences in different ways. Lucas is an old friend. Frank may not want you to see him at his weakest.”

  Everything Tish said was true, but that didn’t make Aimee feel any better. She nodded, and Tish squeezed her hand.

  “I know your trip back in time was rough. Lucas gave me the highlights. If you want to talk about it, I’ll be glad to listen. Or we can talk about something completely different.”

  “Something different, please.”

  “Okay.”

  Tish kept the conversation rolling until she deposited Aimee back at her apartment. Mandy’s bags were strewn around the living room, but Aimee was relieved to see her temporary roommate had gone out. She just wanted to climb in her bed, wrap herself in a blanket, and sleep until her life had sorted itself out.

  She slept through the night, and late the next morning, she awoke to the smell of coffee and bread. When she went in the kitchen, she saw Mandy at the table with two lattes and a box of fresh pastries. First Tish, now Mandy. I could get used to this, Aimee thought.

  “I may not know my way around a kitchen,” Mandy said, “but I’m an excellent shopper!”

  She offered Aimee the box of pastries.

  “Thank you.” Aimee bit into an apple Danish. “Mmm, delicious.”

  “From my favorite bakery, which, unfortunately, is closing.”

  Aimee continued to nibble for a moment until Mandy’s words registered. “It is? Why are they closing?”

  Mandy shrugged. “The owner’s probably retiring. He’s run it for ages. Like, since the ’70s.” She made it sound like a prehistoric era.

  “Where is the bakery? Is he selling his equipment?”

  Aimee peppered her with questions. One of her biggest concerns about opening her business was the cost of equipment. She could cut expenses considerably if she could purchase it used. Mandy gave her the details, and Aimee called and arranged an appointment with the owner for that afternoon.

  “Good luck,” Mandy told her.

  “Thanks for the info and for the delicious breakfast. I hate to ask, but if you’re not busy, any chance you could give me a ride? My car’s at a—“ Aimee didn’t want to have to explain about A Time for Love. “A building just off the interstate.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Mandy pointed to a set of keys on the counter. “Tish took your keys when she dropped you off last night, and someone delivered your car this morning. It’s parked out front.”

  “Great!” Aimee scooped up the keys and put them in her purse. “I’d better get dressed then.” She paused. “Do you need anything?”

  “Yes,” Mandy said with a wistful smile that made her look like a lost little girl. “But I think I’m going to have to figure it out for myself.”

  Aimee wasn’t going to touch that statement, so she just nodded and headed to her room to freshen up and change. She was anxious to visit Frank, to see if he was improving, but she was also uncertain of her welcome. When she reached his room, she heard voices and knocked before she opened the door.

  “Aimee!” Edwina Darby rose from the recliner beside Frank’s bed. “How are you, dear? I hardly had the chance to speak to you. Are you recovered from your little adventure?”

  Only Edwina would describe going back in time to a World War I battlefield as a “little adventure.” Aimee shrugged. “We all made it back. That’s what matters.”

  Edwina stepped away from the chair. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about, so I’ll leave you to it.”

  “You don’t have to go.”

  Frank was sitting up, propped against a mound of pillows. His face had regained a tinge of color, although he still appeared drawn and weak.

  “Yes, dear, I really do. I’ll be back this evening.” Edwina gave him a careful hug and paused to give Aimee a more enthusiastic one on her way out.

  Aimee took her place beside the bed. “You’re looking better today,” she ventured after a long silence.

  “I’m feeling better,” Frank admitted. The silence stretched again, and then he said, “Look, I’m sorry I sounded like an ungrateful jerk. Thank you for saving my life.” He spoke slowly, pausing for breath between sentences. “I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for you, and I appreciate the effort. But you don’t have to keep coming to visit.”

  His words hurt, and Aimee glanced down at her hands in her lap. It was a moment before she could trust herself to speak. “All right. I won’t keep bothering you. Take care, Frank.”

  She started to stand up, but he reached out a hand. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I? I’m sorry. I’m no good at this. I appreciate your concern, but it’s difficult for me to see you. I don’t want to risk changing my mind.”

  “Changing your mind? About what?”

  “About you. Us.” Frank struggled to sit up straighter, and Aimee helped him rearrange the pillows, hardly aware of what she was doing. “Your ex-boyfriend is an idiot if he
didn’t appreciate you. Maybe he’ll realize what he’s lost, or maybe one day you’ll find someone who can make you forget him. But as long as you still have feelings for him—“

  “I don’t!” Aimee interrupted.

  “You may think you don’t—“

  “Because I don’t!”

  “With the things you said on our last date?” Frank shook his head. “I think you’re in denial.”

  Aimee took a breath. Somehow this conversation felt even more dangerous than her trip back in time. If she didn’t convince Frank that Tom didn’t matter anymore, he might reject her, and she might never find a way back into his life.

  “I’ve told you about my childhood,” she said. “How my parents’ relationship was unstable. I don’t remember the words, just yelling and angry faces, but Mama admits they were having problems. After my dad died, my mom and I constantly struggled to make ends meet. I always wanted security. When I met Tom, I thought I’d found it. Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but even an imperfect relationship seemed better than the unknown. I fought to keep it, even after I realized that I was the only one fighting for it. I never told Tom how I felt, because I knew if I made his life uncomfortable, he would leave.”

  She paused. Frank didn’t try to interrupt, just waited to hear what she would say.

  “I never confronted Tom. Even when we broke up, I didn’t tell him how I felt. All I could do was keep trying to make it work. But things felt different with you.” Her voice sounded tight, and Aimee fought to keep it even. “I trusted you. I know I shouldn’t have vented all the frustration left over from Tom. I didn’t express it well, but I felt safe with you. I trusted you not to walk out on me.”

  She pushed away from the bed and crossed to the window, staring out at the parking lot below. “I guess I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

  When she turned back, Frank was watching her. “I’m sorry I left without telling you. It seemed clear to me that you weren’t over your ex.”

  “And you couldn’t talk to me about it?”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  Aimee swallowed. If an apology was all he had to say, there was no reason for her to stay. “I’m glad you’re safe, and I hope you feel better soon. Since it’s difficult for you to see me, I won’t bother you anymore.”

  As she started past the bed, Frank reached for her hand. “Wait.”

  Aimee stopped walking, but she refused to look at him. If she did, she might start crying, and she didn’t want her exit spoiled by tears.

  “I would like to be wrong about you and, what’s his name, Tom? I would love to be wrong about it, but I’m just not sure I am.”

  She tried to pull her hand free, but he continued to hold it.

  “I don’t know what to think. A lot happened while I was gone. Things that I never thought I’d see or do. Things no one should have to see or do.” He shivered, and Aimee bent over to tuck the blanket around him. “I need time to figure out where I go from here.”

  “I understand.”

  He turned away from her to stare up at the ceiling. After a long pause, he continued, “Maybe we could spend time together as friends. No pressure. No worrying about A Time for Love’s phases. At least until I get out of here.” He gestured around him.

  “Is that what you want?”

  “For now.”

  Part of her wanted to say no. She didn’t want to be friends. He’d hurt her, and she wanted to hurt him back. But he looked fragile, there in his hospital bed, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again.

  “All right.” She drew away. “I have an appointment now, but I’ll be back. Is there anything you want me to bring you?”

  “Ice cream?” Frank said hopefully.

  “Aren’t you still on a liquid diet?”

  “Yes,” he sighed.

  “We’ll go out for ice cream as soon as you’re better,” Aimee promised, and he agreed.

  Too bad Frank couldn’t eat pastries either, Aimee thought as she sampled a freshly baked chocolate croissant in Joe’s Bakery. The owner, Joe Langhorne, was a short, rotund man with a balding head and a red apron dusted with flour. He peered at Aimee over half-rim spectacles, and when she murmured her appreciation, he smiled. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

  He gave Aimee a tour of the kitchen and a rundown on the baked goods he typically offered. He clearly loved his job and had maintained all his equipment with meticulous care.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you closing the shop?” Aimee asked once they’d finished the tour.

  “I don’t want to close the shop,” he admitted. “But my wife has arthritis and can’t help so much anymore. She wants us to move to California to live near our son. So, what can I do?” He shrugged.

  “It’s a shame you have to close.” Aimee looked around at the spacious shop, with its long, glass-fronted counter and small tables where patrons could enjoy their purchases.

  “I love it, but I love my wife more.”

  The statement was simple but profound. Aimee nodded in understanding. She asked a few more questions and made notes on the pad she was carrying. “I’ll need to talk to my financial advisor,” she said, “but you have most of the equipment I need, and I’d love to buy it used. I’ll call you back by the end of the week, if that’s all right?”

  She shook his hand. After she left the bakery, she wandered along the street. It was less trendy than the area around Lucy’s Yummies. More of a family neighborhood. Nothing flashy or pretentious.

  Further down the street were a small bookstore and a pharmacy. On impulse, Aimee stopped in the bookstore to look for a small gift for Frank. The best-selling thriller featured in the store’s window was the story of a war hero. She shuddered and moved on to the magazine rack, where she picked up a magazine about horses for Frank and a puzzle book for her.

  She ate a late lunch at a burger joint near the hospital, and when she returned to Frank’s room, Lucas was sitting beside the bed, and Frank was asleep.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He had a rough afternoon. The anesthetic wore off, and he was in a lot of pain. The nurse gave him a sedative. The doctor will check his leg first thing this morning. His spirits have improved, though. He told me you visited this morning, so keep doing whatever you did.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Lucas stayed a few more minutes, and then left with orders for Aimee to contact him if anything changed. Aimee took his place beside Frank’s bed. She tried to read but couldn’t really concentrate, so she watched Frank sleep and daydreamed about what their life together might be like.

  Frank stirred a couple of times without waking. Once, after he tossed restlessly for a few minutes, muttering again, he opened his eyes. He stared ahead of him as if he couldn’t see anything. Aimee moved closer.

  “Frank, are you all right?”

  He turned his head. “Aimee?” His eyes took a moment to focus on her, and when they did, he smiled. “Aimee.”

  Aimee took his hand. “I’m here, Frank. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

  The smile was still on his face as he drifted back to sleep.

  Chapter 21

  Aimee clutched a paper bag as she made her way up the steps of the elegant townhouse. Frank had been released from the hospital the previous day, and he was recuperating at Edwina’s. Between the bullet wound and a nasty stomach bug he’d picked up during the campaign in France, he was just now able to resume eating solid foods, and she was bringing a mini version of a celebratory meal.

  “How’s he doing?” she asked when Edwina answered the door.

  “Much better, dear. He’s been watching television and waiting for you.” Edwina eyed the bags in her arm. “Do you need utensils? I’ll bring them. Go on up.”

  Aimee was already heading up the stairs before Edwina finished speaking. The door to the bedroom Frank was using was half-closed, and she tapped on it before pushing it open.

  “Good morning,” s
he said.

  “Morning.”

  Frank was dressed in loose pants and a t-shirt, and he was sitting in the comfortable armchair beside the bed. The TV was on, but he wasn’t watching it.

  “Hungry?”

  Frank shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  Aimee opened the bags she’d brought and began arranging the contents on the wooden table beside the bed.

  “Anyone in the mood for ice cream!”

  “You remembered!”

  “You’ve only mentioned it approximately five thousand times. ‘Ice cream’s my favorite treat. Oh, I can’t wait till I can eat ice cream again,’” Aimee teased in imitation of Frank’s voice.

  “It’s all I could think about some days, when we were training out in the sun or sitting crouched in a foxhole where everything tasted like dirt. I’d close my eyes and picture sipping a chocolate soda or eating a banana split. Sometimes I could almost taste it. It’s been months since I’ve had ice cream.”

  “I’ll take you out to the best ice cream parlor in town once you’re up to it,” Aimee promised. “For now, what’ll it be? I’ve got fudge ripple, orange sherbet, and strawberry. No lumps or chunks, like the doctor said.”

  “All of them?” he asked hopefully.

  Aimee laughed. “Why not?”

  Edwina delivered bowls and spoons and then tactfully disappeared. Aimee added a small scoop of each flavor to Frank’s bowl, then shrugged and did the same for herself. Frank closed his eyes to savor his first bite of fudge ripple.

  “Mmm. I thought I must’ve been remembering wrong, but no, it’s just as good as I thought.”

  Aimee ate her ice cream while Frank sampled the other two flavors. Despite his enthusiasm, he could only manage a few bites. Aimee didn’t comment when he pushed his bowl away.

  “I have pictures of the possible locations for my bakery,” she told him.

  She had filled Frank in on her plans for the new business. She pulled out her camera to show him the pictures and described each of the sites.

  “What did your friends think?”

  “Lucy prefers the site near her, but Charlene thinks the shopping center is a better value.”