Design for Life

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Design for Life Page 6

by Masters, Cate

He smiled, though without emotion. “Yes, you’re doing much better. Tomorrow you can go home.”

  The doctor’s words appeared to energize her. “That’s wonderful.”

  Hurrying to her feet, Becca gripped the side rail. Mom might get angry, but she had to ask. “Really? Is she ready for that?” Her mom was still weak, and needed help getting out of bed.

  Dr. Maynard replaced the chart. “We’ll set up a schedule for a visiting nurse to check in on her.”

  Becca stepped closer. “But is she ready?”

  He peered over his glasses and whispered, “The latest tests show cancer’s invaded everywhere. There’s really nothing more for us to do.”

  The statement held the weight of a wrecking ball. Stunned, Becca grabbed the end of the bed, and turned away so her mom wouldn’t see her face. Nothing more for us to do. Could there be any more terrible words to hear than those?

  Dr. Maynard spoke to her mom about the visiting nurse. Becca sat and watched him speak as if conducting a business deal. Of course he had to stay distanced from the emotional aspect of his work.

  Becca’s art demanded emotion. She couldn’t imagine separating her feelings from her work.

  After the doctor excused himself, her mom gave a weak smile. “I’ll be glad to get out of here.”

  Becca took her hand. “I’ll be glad to have you home again.”

  Her mother’s gaze swept over her. “You should go home now. You’re tired, honey. I’m going back to sleep anyway.”

  A wave of weariness washed over Becca. She glanced at her watch—almost ten. “I guess you’re right. Do you need anything before I leave?”

  Her mother squeezed her hand. “I’m fine, sweetie. Drive safe.”

  Becca kissed her mom’s forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.” On her way out, she dialed Deb’s cell and left a message saying she would not be in the following day, that she’d be bringing her mom home.

  She couldn’t bring herself to say why. If she’d tried, she would have blubbered.

  Driving home, she tried to block the doctor’s words from her mind, but they kept repeating relentlessly. She had so many questions. Was there nothing else left to try? Some experimental drug? Would her mom even agree to more treatments? Sometimes the treatments had a worse effect than the disease.

  When she pulled into her driveway, the house was dark except for the solar lights along the front walk. For the first time, it appeared unwelcoming. Another reminder of Mom's absence. She'd always left the porch light on until Becca returned home.

  Tears overwhelmed her as she thought of her mom dying, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Becca had planned for so many things in her life, and none of them had gone the way she’d hoped.

  She dragged herself into the house. The answering machine blinked, so she hit the button. As she took off her jacket, Mike Hunter’s deep voice halted her.

  “Hello, Becca. This is Mike.” After a second’s pause, he added, “I just wanted to say hi. Sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk more today.” His voice became soft, intimate. “I missed you in class tonight. I look forward to hearing from you. Call me on my cell when you get a chance.” He recited his number. “Talk to you soon.” A click, then silence.

  With a sigh, she repeated, “Talk to you soon.” The memory of his soft lips on hers made her hug herself. “Oh! The number!” She pressed the play button again, pulled out her sketch pad, and jotted it on the back. His closing sentence buoyed her. She could listen to his message all night. Once more, she touched the button, closed her eyes and let the deep timbre of his voice surround her like a warm blanket.

  At last, one thing–one very important thing–had gone the way she’d hoped.

  The time displayed on her cell phone read ten forty-five. Probably too late to call tonight.

  But not too late to listen to his voice one last time.

  ***

  Charlotte Lyndon held steady for nearly a week. The visiting nurse came once a day to take her mother’s vitals, ask how she was doing, if she needed anything.

  Time, Becca wanted to say. Much more time.

  Mrs. Hardwick brought lunch and sometimes dinner, always preparing a little extra of whatever she made for herself. Without her neighbor’s help, Becca wouldn’t have been able to go back to the Basket of Blooms. Working allowed her to focus on something else, not to think about what might happen, not to wonder why she hadn’t heard back from Mike Hunter.

  She’d called him the next morning and left a hasty message as she was on her way to work. She asked him to call her cell phone.

  He hadn’t.

  To quell the doubts that returned so insistently, she reminded herself of his busy work schedule. Doubts such as–he’d forgotten her. Or found someone else.

  On Wednesday, as Becca arranged sunflowers and daisies in a basket, she decided that if tomorrow went well, she would go to class. Though Mike wouldn’t be teaching, she couldn’t afford to miss too many classes.

  Grace strode to the table carrying a menu. “Ooh, lovely basket. Hey, we’re ordering takeout from Isaac’s. Would you like anything?”

  Glancing at the wall clock, she was surprised to see noon had passed several minutes earlier. “Lunchtime already? Yes, I’m starving.”

  Arching a brow, Grace looked her over from head to toe. “You’ve lost a few pounds. You need to keep up your strength.” She placed the menu on the table.

  Her stomach grumbling, Becca scanned the choices. “My days were so hectic while Mom was in the hospital, sometimes I skipped meals. But things are on a more even keel now.”

  Grace checked the menu and jotted a selection on her list. “I’m glad. Your mom’s all right?”

  She hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to tell the women what the doctor had said. “She’s holding her own.”

  Laying a hand on her arm, Grace peered over her reading glasses. “You know, if you need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

  Her warm tone eased Becca’s nerves. Without the support of all three women, she would have been much worse off. “Thanks. Right now, I need lunch.”

  Waving the list, Grace walked toward the front. “I’m calling in our order now.”

  Becca called, “I can pick it up, if you like. I need to deliver this basket anyway.”

  Grace’s voice floated from her desk. “Great, that’ll save me a trip.”

  If only she could do more than that. The ladies had said nothing more about her designs for the shop, and Becca didn’t want to pressure them by asking. Providing The Basket of Blooms with a new logo would mean the world to her, a gift that would last.

  After adding the final touches to the arrangement, Becca wrote up the card as the customer had requested: Hope you recover soon from your surgery–Patti, Jane, Melanie and Angie. The residential address meant she wouldn’t have to go back to the hospital, thank goodness. She hoped not to return there for a long time.

  “I’m taking off.” She stopped at Grace’s desk. “Got the lunch list?”

  “We’re order number twenty-three. Here’s our corporate card.” Grace extended a hand and winked. “Thanks–you’re a doll.”

  With a grin, she took the card. “You are too good to me.”

  Grace tilted her head. “Just showing our appreciation for a great employee.”

  She smiled. “I’ll be back soon.”

  First, she delivered the basket. The woman who answered the door appeared pale but otherwise healthy. When she saw the basket, a smile softened her features and brought a sparkle to her eyes. Handing them over, Becca couldn’t help but feel warmed. The best part of the job was delivering happiness.

  Outside Isaac’s Restaurant, she grabbed a parking spot and ran inside. As the cashier rung up her order, Becca glanced at the people at the tables, and then froze with a gasp. Mike. Sitting with a gorgeous blonde woman in a short skirt and tight blouse. The woman smiled and touched his arm. His smile widened. Until he glanced up and saw Becca.

  His wide-ey
ed gaze seared through her like lightning. At that moment, he looked exactly like her dad. Guilty.

  A flood of emotions washed over her one by one, her blood pounding in her ears. Anger at his lies. Embarrassment for being taken in by his charm, which he obviously bestowed on many women. Regret for what might have been a promising start, if only he’d given it a chance.

  She stood, mouth agape, until the image of herself came to mind–she always stared at him like a silly schoolgirl. Steeling herself, she whirled toward the cashier. “Are we all set?” She had to get out of here, now.

  In her peripheral vision, she saw Mike approach. Her mind raced–what should she say? He hadn’t told her he’d be in town. Didn’t he want her to know? Of course not–he wanted to spend time with her.

  The teen at the register handed her a pen and the receipt. “Sign by the X.”

  “Oh, right.” Scrawling her name on the slip, she shoved it toward him and grabbed the bag.

  “Becca.” Mike strode to her side.

  The teen behind the counter said, “Next.”

  Steadying herself, she moved aside for the next customer. “Mike. Hi.” She tried to keep her tone casual, but couldn’t help adding, “What are you doing here?” She punctuated her question with a glance at the table where the other woman sat.

  “Finishing up lunch with a prospective client.” He laid a hand on her back.

  His touch sent tingles up her spine, scrambling her brain. A client? Could it be true?

  Leaning close, Mike lowered his voice. “I tried the number you left, but calls never went through. I intended to stop by the Basket of Blooms on the way back to Pittsburgh today. You saved me a trip.” He smiled and pulled a pen from his pocket, and grabbed a takeout menu. “Give me your number again.”

  As her nerves uncoiled, she took a breath and recited her number, and shifted toward the back of the room to steal a glance at the woman at the table. She now talked on her cell phone, unaffected by Mike’s diverted attention.

  His face softened. “I’ll call you tonight, all right?”

  “I’d like that.” Her insides went fluid as she relaxed. She had to stop letting her imagination run away with her thoughts.

  He touched her arm. “How’s your mom? Is she all right?”

  No. Nothing was all right. Everything was all wrong. “She’s home now.” Another glance toward at the table revealed his companion setting down her cell. Reluctantly, Becca said, “I should let you get back.” As much as she hated to say goodbye, she couldn’t risk angering his client.

  Hand still on her back, he leaned closer. “Maybe we can get together soon.” His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “Hopefully very soon.”

  His breath sent a wave of warmth through her. “I’d love that.” Especially in a much quieter place. Checking her watch, she winced. “I better get going.”

  “Me, too. See you.”

  When he kissed her cheek, all her doubts dissolved. With a sigh, she felt as if she floated outside to her car.

  In a daze, she backed out of her parking spot and a car horn beeped. “Sorry!” she called. A glance at the window filled her with excitement.

  Mike stood in the same spot, watching her pull away.

  ***

  The last rays of the day’s sun blazed through Becca’s windshield as she drove to class. Tonight she’d left for class without guilt after Mom ate all her dinner. She couldn’t afford to miss any more commercial design sessions.

  She didn’t want to admit that she missed Mike Hunter most of all. Class wasn’t a dating service, she chided herself. Remember your goals. Your education comes first, Mom always said.

  Not this year. Mom came first. School could wait, if need be.

  A parking space came into view. As she steered into it, her stomach clenched and gripped the wheel tighter. When would she ever see Mike? If she hadn’t run into him by accident today, who knows when either might have had the time, between his busy work schedule and her having to work full time, go to school and manage night class?

  As she walked into the building, she couldn’t stop wondering whether he dated anyone else. Seeing him with another woman pained her, but he’d never promised her she was the only one. She only knew how badly she wanted it to be so.

  In the classroom, she absently pulled out her notebook and pen. Becca did her best to pay attention to the new substitute teacher, a thirtyish woman. But even without Mike’s presence in the classroom, he vividly appeared in her thoughts, and still caused her to lose track of time. When class finished, she gathered her materials and rushed out the door.

  Andy pursued her. “How’s it going with Mr. Hunter?” he sneered. “Or did he dump you already?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.” Her sympathy for Andy disappeared with his verbal attack. She hurried her pace.

  He loped alongside. “You’re probably the latest in a long line of female students he’s jumped into bed with.” His voice cracked with desperation. “You’re making a big mistake.”

  “I did not—” She bit back the fierce anger that churned within. “It’s none of your business.” To hint he should leave her alone, she increased her walk to nearly a jog.

  Not enough of a hint for Andy, who persisted in following. “If you haven’t yet, then you should put it off as long as possible. As soon as he sacks you, he’ll move on. It’s what his type does.”

  She steadied her voice. “You really ought to rethink your technique, Andy. If you’re trying to make yourself more attractive by comparison, your method isn’t working.” She ducked her head and bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to phrase it quite like that. Mike was so much more handsome than Andy, but her attraction extended far beyond looks. She liked Andy–as a friend. Or had, until tonight.

  He winced and shrugged. “Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Goodbye, Andy.” Hoping her tone adequately conveyed her agitation, she continued on.

  He halted and muttered something.

  Becca glanced back once to see him walk away. When she reached her car, her cell phone rang. An unfamiliar number, but the readout showed a local exchange. She flipped open her cell. “Hello?” Her voice shook with irritation and at the effort of sustaining a runner’s pace to escape Andy.

  The low timbre of Mike’s tone came through the phone. “Hey, finally. How was class?”

  Relief flooded her, and the knot in her stomach loosened. Curling into her ear, his deep voice calmed and excited her at the same time. “Well, the teacher’s not as exciting as you, but it was all right.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. What are you up to now?”

  She leaned against her car door and wished he were here to hold her, tell her everything would be all right. The thought of going home wasn’t especially appealing. Her mom would’ve fallen asleep by now. Studying wasn’t an option, as wired as she felt. “Nothing, really. What about you?”

  “At the moment, I’m watching some pretty girl through my window,” he teased.

  Disappointment pricked her skin and her cheeks flushed. “Oh.” She kicked at a stone, and Andy’s taunts came back too sharply.

  Car lights flashed from the opposite row of spaces. And then again. Shielding her eyes, she looked over.

  The door of a compact car swung open and then clapped shut. “But I’d much rather watch at close range.” With long strides, Mike walked toward her.

  Happiness bubbled up as laughter and she shut her phone. “You’re here.”

  He slipped her handbag from her shoulder. “You’re going to hurt yourself with this.” After setting it on the hood, he slid his arms around her and touched his lips to hers. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?” Her breath hitched in her chest as she waited interminable seconds. She hoped she knew the answer, but longed to hear him say it.

  “I missed you.” He grinned. “I was afraid I wouldn’t get to see you at all if I didn’t catch you while you were en route to somewhere else.”
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br />   “My days have been crazy lately. I missed you too.” She encircled her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you caught me.”

  “Not as glad as I am.” His lips met hers, soft and warm with a faint taste of coffee.

  Becca’s breath raced when she returned his kiss. Like in her daydreams, she ran her hands through his hair. The sensation of floating washed over her, and time suspended in an electrified tangle of lips and hands. The feel of him in her arms made her giddy. She wanted to feel his breath on her cheek all night.

  “What time is it?” she murmured.

  “Who cares?” His soft mouth moved against her neck.

  His kisses sent shivers across her, and she held him tight.

  With a reluctant move, she glanced at her watch, and leaned away in surprise. “It’s almost eleven.”

  He groaned. “How does that keep happening? We get together and then it’s hours later in no time.” He ran his hands along her back.

  As if she could stop time and hold him there, she clutched his jacket. “I know. I don’t want to leave.”

  After he searched her eyes, he heaved a ragged breath. “Do you have any time this weekend? Are you free tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, and yes.” There wasn’t much she would refuse him.

  He rocked her in his arms. “Good. So how about I cook dinner tomorrow night?”

  Delight tickled away her disappointment at having to say goodnight. She grinned. “You cook?”

  “I try.” His smile was lopsided and then disappeared. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.”

  When he let go of her, the night air felt chillier. She pulled her jacket close as he jogged to his car, opened the passenger door and then walked back with a large pad.

  Seeing the prize he held, she gasped. “My sketch book!” She flipped through the pages, excitement building as she found all her illustrations intact. “Oh, I was so worried I’d never see this again.”

  His fingers traced an edge of the portfolio. “I shouldn’t have put it on the floor at the coffee shop. I remembered too late and went back for it. I meant to tell you earlier.”

 

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