by Geeta Kakade
“Why don’t you go and see if your Mom has that lemonade ready. She told me she would make some but I forgot to bring it with me.” An audience would only make her more nervous.
Frank nodded and turned and ran toward the house.
Christy climbed up gingerly, holding her breath, not looking down.
At the top she had to take O’Keefe’s hand to step onto the platform.
“Thanks,” she let go of it quickly and moved away from him, aware of the heat that coursed up her hand and arm to her heart. She was relieved she had made it up all right.
She looked around surprised. This was no small tree house as she’d imagined. The platform alone was six by six feet and emphasized how widespread the branches of the old tree were. O’Keefe had been very clever about adjusting the planks to allow for two of the branches. The space already looked like a great play area.
O’Keefe had old jeans on, frayed at both knees. The thin blue shirt he wore emphasized the muscles in his upper body. Christy looked at him and then quickly looked away. Her stupid heart was thumping so loud he might hear it.
“This is really nice.”
He looked up at the note of appreciation in her voice.
“We have enough wood to build two rooms up here and Toby said he might have a rope ladder for the other side.”
“This is a big project.”
“It won’t take more than a day or two. Did you want me for anything?”
For someone who just lazed about on the boat and drank, he must be in better condition than she’d thought. He’d built the floor of the tree house in no time.
“I want to know what happened last night,” she said. “Why did you push me into the house like that?”
Had he been drunk again?
“I thought those three men looked suspicious,” O’Keefe said after a minute. “There have been reports of houses being burgled in the area and if they were burglars I didn’t want them to see us. The empty houses in the area are a green flag to crooks.”
Somehow she wasn’t satisfied with the thought burglars would be out so early in the evening but Christy kept quiet.
“Did you check them out?”
O’Keefe nodded. “They were delivering something and just had the wrong address. That’s easy in the dark.”
So why had O’Keefe over reacted? The house next door did not have a porch light though she did see lights on inside.
“Maybe I’ll take a pie over and meet the owners and introduce myself.”
“Don’t do that!”
The sharply rapped out words had her eyes widening.
“Why not?”
O’Keefe frowned. What angry brows you have.
“They aren’t friendly and they’ve made it clear in the past that they want to be left alone.”
For a second she was reminded of Mother. The look in O’Keefe’s eyes was the same as her Mother’s when she was avoiding an issue.
Aware O’Keefe was watching her closely Christy suddenly felt the large area of the tree house shrink.
“I’ve got things to do.” She turned away and stopped. The ground seemed a very long way away.
“What is it?”
She wasn’t aware he had come up behind her.
“I don’t have a good head for heights. I’m not sure how I’m going to get down that ladder.”
“Turn and face me.”
She did.
“Now back up to the ladder and wait. You’re going to go down on your haunches and then go down backwards. Just don’t look down.”
She looked down and froze. “I can’t,” she whispered.
There was a pause and then he put his tools down.
“I’ll go first and guide your feet. I won’t let you fall.”
O’Keefe was using the voice he used with Frank. What a gentle voice you have.
“Christy?”
His hand on her arm made Christy realize she’d closed her eyes. She opened them.
He was already on the ladder, “Come on. You’ll be fine.”
She backed up and his hand on her ankle guided her foot with each step down.
The heat ensuing from the points of contact made her breath catch in her throat.
“You’re almost there.” O’Keefe said from the ground and she felt the wood give way below her foot.
She slipped down the last three steps letting go off her grip above as she fell. O’Keefe was there as soon as her feet hit the ground but not soon enough. She felt pain as her ankle turned and then her eyes closed for a few seconds.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Christy, are you okay? Open your eyes.”
Someone was patting her cheek much too firmly and talking too loud.
She was being cradled as if she were a child and she didn’t want to wake up.
What nice arms you have.
“Christy! Open your eyes!”
She opened her eyes. Why on earth was O’Keefe holding her and looking so worried?
The next instant she recalled what had happened. She had slipped. Christy looked at the third step up. The plank of wood for that step hadn’t been nailed in properly at one end.
She sat up. Why on earth had she passed out? The next instant memory flooded her brain. Her ankle. The pain. Oh no! She couldn’t have broken it now of all times.
O’Keefe was behind her propping her up with his body, both arms holding her.
“Help me up.” She told O’Keefe hating the squeak in her voice.
He did so as easily as if she were a ten pound bag of sugar.
Christy couldn’t put her left foot down. She didn't think anything was broken but it wouldn’t take her weight.
“Easy,” he said holding on to her waist.
The next thing she knew she was being lifted in his arms and he was walking toward the house.
Frank on his way to them with a pitcher of lemonade stopped and then turned and yelled for his mother.
Moira was at the kitchen door just as O’Keefe reached it.
“Ask Toby to bring his truck to the front. Call the doctor. His name’s on the kitchen wall by the phone. Tell him we’ll be there in 15 minutes and to wait for us.”
O’Keefe didn’t sound like his normal self at all. The sharp sentences, the “I’m in charge here” voice was at odds with his usual lazy drawl.
“Put me down,” countermanded Christy. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s only a sprain.”
“It has to be x-rayed before we can be sure of that.”
He put her down on the couch in the family room and bent to take off her shoe. Getting a pair of scissors he slit the leg of her jean without so much as a ‘by your leave’.
“Ever thought these aren’t the shoes to climb a tree in?” O’Keefe asked as he removed her closed toe, high heeled esparadilles with the ankle lace ups. “Frank, go get two wooden spoons from the kitchen.
Christy closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to explain how she’d packed what was in her closet at Beverly Hills. Mother hated the clothes Christy had bought herself so she always left them behind in her apartment when she visited.
His hands burnt a trail around her ankle and up her calf examining her for broken bones.
She was the nurse for goodness sake. “Nothing’s broken.” She snapped.
“It’s swelling,” said Moira. “I’ll get some ice.”
Christy looked at her ankle, frustration welling up. How could she have slipped like that?
The next instant she knew how.
“You haven’t nailed those steps in properly.” Anger that she might be laid up for a while be unable to do all she had to for Cupid Lodge to be ready for guests got directed at O’Keefe. “Do you always leave things half done?”
He looked at her, seemed about to say something and then closed his mouth.
Moira came back with two sandwich baggies of ice, two kitchen towels cut into half and a couple of pins.
O’Keefe strapped her ankle with the two wooden spoons immobilizing
the joint, placed the baggies on either side and used another strip to hold them in place. “Grab a couple of cushions,” he told Moira.
Before Christy could say a word he had her up in his arms again and was carrying her out to the truck.
“We can take my car,” she said
“It’s easier to put you into the truck.”
He moved the passenger seat back as far as possible and placed the cushions under her ankle; made sure she was comfortable. Getting into the driver’s seat, he told Frank and Moira they would be back soon and then the truck roared down the drive and out onto the road.
Christy leaned back and closed her eyes. She was angry, her ankle throbbed but there was another emotion present that she couldn’t make head or tail of. It made her feel terribly unsettled.
The x-ray confirmed there were no broken bones. Dr. Patel wrapped the ankle with an ace bandage told her to keep the ankle elevated, iced and to use over the counter painkillers when she needed to. He gave her a crutch which he said would get her to the bathroom and the kitchen and said to keep off it as much as possible for the first two days.
Seeing the panic in her eyes, he added. “Unnecessary strain and that can develop into a stress fracture.”
“I’m an LVN,” said Christy.
His brows went up, and then he smiled. “After doctors, nurses make the worst patients so be careful not to overdo things. Elevating it and using ice packs twenty minutes on and thirty minutes off will help as you know.”
The nurse came in and showed Christy how to use the crutch, made her practice with it a few times and then declared her ready to leave.
“You have Jake’s eyes,” she told Christy. “Dr. Patel liked him so much. He doesn’t see everyone at the drop of a syringe but when he heard it was Jake’s daughter who needed treatment he agreed right away. He wants you to come back in three days if you’re not feeling better. If you are and the swellings gone down, a week will be fine. Mr. O’Keefe’s waiting for you. I asked him if he wanted to come in but he said he’d stay in the waiting room. He’s a nice man. Took such good care of your father.”
Christy didn’t say a word on the trip back. She felt too close to tears to talk. Suddenly she was very tired.
“Thanks,” she said as soon as the truck pulled up in front of the garage.
She hopped out on one leg using her crutch before he could come around and help her.
Moira helped her into the downstairs bedroom and brought her some coffee. Christy took two painkillers and lay down. Suddenly she was really tired.
“She’s the only woman I know who can lace gratitude with ice”, thought O’Keefe as he watched her hobble away from him.
“What have you done now Agnes?” Pa asked angrily. “Did you loosen the board?”
“Well they seem to be drifting further apart,” said Agnes, aware that to be calling her by her given name her husband was really upset, “and I just want to make her aware of O’Keefe’s good qualities.”
“What good qualities?”
“That just like you his bark is just that…a bark. No bite goes with it. And once she gets through that tough outer hide that all men possess she’ll make him accept love.”
“What do you mean just like you?” Phillip looked dangerously close to putting her over his knee.
“That’s exactly how you were in the beginning,” Agnes said. “It took three months of marriage and losing our first baby, Mary, before you would acknowledge you loved me.”
Sometimes there was just so much a man could take. Phillip retreated to a corner and turned his back on his wife.
“That woman Moira…” said Phillip.
“What about her Pa?” Agnes tried to keep her temper under control. “You remember how you felt about White Feather the Washoe woman who showed up asking if we needed any medicines. You ignored her but I made friends with her and learned to communicate with her. Later when I gave birth to Jacob she saved both our lives by helping at the delivery. If it hadn’t been for her we would both have died.”
He did remember the wonderful sight of his son emerging from his wife’s body, and then wailing loudly. Phillip had stood frozen in the doorway of the bedroom during Agnes’ laor, unable to do anything except watch as the Indian woman had put her hand into Agnes and turned the baby so it could come out.
“Strangers aren’t always what they seem on the surface.”
“Balderdash!” he said under his breath.
Christy woke at two a.m startled to see the glowing dial of the clock on her bedside. Had she really slept since six the previous evening? She should have taken one pill not two. Painkillers always made her extra sleepy.
Sitting up, she reached for the crutch and hobbled to the bathroom.
Coming out she jumped so high she almost lost her balance again.
O’Keefe stood in the door of her bedroom.
“What are you doing here?”
“We took a vote to see who would stay in the house with you and I got the short straw,” he said. “I’m just heating up some chili.”
She was starving. Eating something might help her get rid of the heavy feeling in her head the meds had left her with.
Christy headed for the kitchen. O’Keefe had a tray out, with some toast and butter. He took the chili out of the microwave and placed the bowl in front of her.
“Moira said I was to be sure and give you some if you woke up.”
“Thanks.”
He didn’t stick around while she ate. Just nodded and left. It must be the medicine clouding her judgment because she wished he had stayed.
O’Keefe cursed as he got into the sleeping bag. It was all his fault…he should have checked Frank’s work but he had watched how carefully the ten year old had nailed in the first two steps and then left the boy to it.
Christy looked pale. Worst of all was this feeling that he wanted to cradle her and apologize over and over again.
She woke at six and had made the coffee before Moira came in at seven.
“Please sit down. Mr. O’Keefe said you had to rest your ankle.” Moira sounded worried.
“I’m fine,” Christy said but sank into a chair in the nook.
“D’you need anything, ma’am?” Toby was right behind Moira, his arms laden with jars.
He set them on the table. Moira and he went out together and were back in a few minutes with more. Moira picked up a basket for the third round.
Christy stared at the labels in amazement. There was strawberry, peach and apricot jam.
There were jars of bottled peaches and cherries.
“My sister was here for the summer ma’am,” said Toby coming in with the last batch. “She put up all the fruit from the orchard in exchange for half of it. Said she couldn’t bear it to go to waste. I kept it at my place as O’Keefe said the place was to be sold but I’m happy to bring it back since you’re going to be staying on here.”
“Thank you so much Toby. I hope you’ve kept some of the jars for yourself.”
She smiled as Moira put toast and eggs in front of both of them.
“Don’t use them ma’am. I’m a fish and chips, porridge and herrings, kind of fella. Mebbe one day you’ll let me make you some of my fish and chips. I use an old recipe and even my Betty preferred mine to hers.”
Christy was touched. “I would love that Toby.”
They ate breakfast together while Moira went back to her place to make sure Frank was ready to leave for school.
Toby sat and chatted with Christy about the house and the garden till Moira came back. Then he took himself off to the garden and Moira asked if she’d like help with anything. Everyone seemed to have decided not to leave her alone.
“I’d like to have a shower, if you don’t mind staying in the bedroom while I take one.”
Christy undid her bandage and stared gloomily at the fat ankle. Had it gone down at all? A hot shower might help and it would certainly make her feel better.
The walk in shower in the down
stairs bathroom had a small ledge in front, six inches high. Christy was sure she could manage that with the crutch but she didn’t want to take a chance.
With her luck she would fall down and O’Keefe would come to the rescue.
Afterwards Christy sat down in an armchair in the living room. The sun was streaming in through the window here. Moira got her a stool and an afghan for her legs, brought her a bottle of water and some biscuits and then finally showed up with a bell which she placed on the table beside the chair.
“I’ll be upstairs ironing the curtains and putting them up but if you ring the bell, I’ll hear you.”
“I’m not an invalid,” said Christy firmly, placing her cell phone on the side table. “I can manage fine but thanks for everything.”
Moira had made Christy’s bed and tidied up the clothes on the floor while she’d waited for her. Christy knew she’d have to have a talk with her later about how she did not need anyone to wait on her.
The library books were on the side table and she reached for the one on cleaning antiques ignoring the pessimistic voice at the back of her head that kept repeating the phrase. “No one’s called yet. No one’s called yet!”
O’Keefe stayed away from the main house. Moira had plugged in her coffee pot in the small kitchenette and had her toaster set out as well. He’d picked up some bagels and cream cheese and a good first aid kit while Christy had been with Dr. Patel.
As he slathered a bagel with cream cheese he told himself the less he saw of Christy Hathaway the better.
The night shift he’d pulled from one to dawn at the house had been done because guilt had eaten into him. That loose board could have caused a worse accident and he had promised Jake he would take care of his daughter if she ever showed up.
The memory of her in silk pajamas looking vulnerable flashed into his mind.
Keep your mind on your work, O’Keefe, he ordered himself heading for the boathouse. Looks are deceiving.
The cell phone startled Christy out of her nap. Her disturbed night, the sun streaming in through the window and the quiet house must have made her nod off.