Anything for You

by Kristan Higgins

  After ten minutes or so, Jess put her block back in the center and grabbed finger cymbals. She took a seat across the circle so she could watch her father and Davey.

  Davey smiled nonstop. He saw her watching and smiled even bigger. She waved, feeling a smile herself.

  Her father looked happier than Jess could ever remember. Not secretive, not sly, not falsely innocent. He kept looking at Davey, pinging away on the triangle, happiness and sorrow mingling in his expression.

  Years of crushed expectations had taught Jessica better than to get her hopes up. But being Davey's sister...well, he had some wisdom to impart, too, and Jessica knew it. Be in the moment. Try not to worry. Stop and watch the clouds drift past.

  So maybe, just for this hour, she'd stop gnawing herself to pieces inside and take in the sight of her father and brother having fun.

  A hand pressed on her shoulder. Ned, who'd played drums in the high school band. "What's our theme this week?" he whispered.

  "Primordial frog heartbeats," she said, and the two of them dissolved into wheezing laughter. Then Ned took her cymbals and actually made them sound cool, a swish-swish-swish that, Jess imagined, sounded just like brave little Froggy's ventricles, pushing the blood through his heart so he could make his great leap of faith.

  *

  AT THE END of drum circle, Davey towed their father over to Jess's side of the circle. "Can Dad sleep over?" he asked.

  "I can't, son," Keith said.

  "Dude, there's no room," Ned reminded Davey. "I live with you now, remember?"

  "Oh," Keith said. "Are you, uh... Never mind."

  "No," Jessica said. "We're not. He's practically a child."

  "Still holding out for you to go cougar, Jess," Ned said, checking his phone. "Oh, missed a call from Sarah. See you guys at home."

  "Well, I'll... I'll be on my way," Keith said. "Great to see you both."

  Davey looked crestfallen. "Can't you stay?" he asked. "Please?"

  "I actually have to work," Keith said. "But I'll see you soon, I hope."

  "Why don't you come for dinner one day this week?" she said, and holy crap, that hadn't been planned.

  "Yes!" Davey said. "Yes, that's a great idea, Jess! Okay! Bye, Dad! See you at dinner one day this week!" He charged over to Miranda, whose mother was chatting with Debbie Meering.

  "Are you sure?" Keith asked her.

  "No. But come on Thursday. Five-thirty. He likes to eat early." She turned and went to corral Davey before she said anything else she might regret.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SO FAR, COLLEEN was batting .000 in the matchmaking department. She'd said, quite convincingly, that she really thought he and Marcy would hit it off. "I mean it, Con! You're the silent, grouchy type. She's all sunshine and marigolds, and very outgoing. Someone has to drag you out of your cave. Give her another try."

  He'd refused.

  Then came Gwen, who met him at O'Rourke's. She seemed nice enough. Worked as a fourth-grade teacher. She was pretty. They made it through the crab cake appetizer without incident, until Connor asked one of Colleen's required questions.

  "So, tell me a fun fact about yourself, Gwen." He winced at the words fun fact and reminded himself that Colleen had fixed up dozens of couples.

  "Hmm." Gwen leaned back in her seat. "Well, I like to target shoot."

  "Oh, yeah? You any good?"

  "Hell, yeah! Once, I shot a baby raccoon at about two hundred yards. I'm that good." She winked. "So. Would you rather burn to death, or be buried alive?"

  And now, Bailey, who hadn't killed any baby animals. At least there was that. Otherwise, not so much to recommend her.

  "This is my first choice for my dream bouquet. See these ribbons? A perfect color match to my maid of honor's dress. See? Beautiful, isn't it?" The woman looked up at Connor, a religious glow in her eyes. "And then, wait for it...my dream shoes. Aren't they beautiful?" She spun her iPad around for Connor to see.

  He was going to kill Colleen the second her baby was born. Then he would take his little niece and raise her himself, though Lucas would probably have an issue with that. He glared at his twin from across the floor, where she was very ungracefully maneuvering behind the bar. She gave him an innocent look. What? Wipe that look off your face.

  This cannot be a serious date.

  Free your mind, idiot.

  Free his mind, please. It was hard enough not to just bolt from the restaurant. Here he'd had a perfectly nice day off, going for a run with Jeremy Lyon, then heading up to Tim's garage, smelling hops and tasting their latest batch and scrubbing out the fermenting tanks. Then Colleen had to go and ruin it.

  Bailey Something, his date for the night, was, according to his sister, everything he needed in a future wife. She was an attorney--brains--had been on her college swim team--health--and represented a women's shelter pro bono--heart. She was attractive, he guessed. Brown hair, brown eyes. Medium height. The rest of her was hard to see, as she was hunched in front of her iPad, which showed some kind of online collage entitled Bailey's Dream Wedding.

  "Connor?" she asked. "You haven't even said if you like the shoes."

  "They're nice," he said, glancing longingly toward the kitchen. The restaurant was packed, and, regrettably, it was his night off. Hannah and Monica were racing orders in and out; Jordan was doing okay behind the bar, though she wasn't as good as Colleen. Rafe had a nice thing going on with the salmon special, though Connor might've used a little more dill and the Black Sea salt rather than the truffle salt. The regulars were all lined up at the bar: Gerard and Ned, Victor and Lorena, Mel Stoakes and the nice lesbian couple whose names he couldn't remember.

  "I'm torn between this lace, and this lace," Bailey said. Connor closed his eyes.

  "Hi, Connor!"

  "Hey, kid!" Reprieve, in the form of his ten-year-old sister. He opened his arms for a hug. "This is my sister, Savannah," he told the wedding chick.

  "Oh! How darling!" She practically slid off the seat in rapture. All this and he loves children, too! Yes. Connor would kill Colleen.

  "Hello, son."

  "Dad. Gail."

  "Hello there," Gail said.

  "I'm Bailey." Bailey held her hand out to Gail. "You must be Connor's parents! What a wonderful job you've done raising him." Gail grimaced. Well, at least there was that. Gail wasn't even forty, and she'd just been taken for Connor's mom. She looked a little better than the last time Connor saw her, and back to her slutty-style outfits: skin tight and low cut.

  "My father and stepmother," he said, because he had to.

  "So nice to meet you!" Bailey said. "We were just talking about weddings!"

  "My brother loves weddings," Colleen said, appearing with all the subtlety of the obese manatee she resembled these days. "He gave me away at mine. We're twins, did he mention that?"

  He had not, given that the entire date, all seventeen agonizing minutes, had been devoted to Bailey's Dream Wedding.

  "I totally want to have twins," Bailey said, her eyes widening. Connor sensed he'd just risen even higher on her Husband Material scale. "Girls. Identical. Wouldn't that be so perfect?" Maybe she had a collage for that, too. Bailey's Dream Identical Girl Twins.

  "Connor wants many children. At least four," Colleen said.

  "You do, son?" Pete asked.

  "Those words have never come out of my mouth," he said.

  "Okay, his eye is twitching. Come on, guys, have a seat," Colleen said, ushering the other O'Rourkes away. Dad and Gail coming in to eat was new. Just last year, they never darkened the doorway. Those were the days, he thought wistfully.

  "Want to see my dream centerpieces?" Bailey asked. "Orchids. I adore orchids!"

  Connor's left eye was indeed twitching. Maybe he needed a vacation. Far, far away. He'd meet some cute little Tahitian woman who didn't speak English, bang out a few kids, maybe stay there.

  Just then, the town siren went off, and thank you, baby Jesus, it gave Connor the excuse he'd been dying for. "G
otta go. Volunteer firefighter," he was pretty sure he said, bolting for the door into the sunshine like a racehorse at the bell.

  Technically, he was on the volunteer fire department, though his work kept him from going on too many calls. He didn't have his pager tonight, though, and had no clue where the call was.

  "Connor, want a ride?" asked Ned Vanderbeek.

  "That'd be great," Connor said. "Where's the call?"

  "Rushing Creek. Patient combative with staff."

  "Hopefully not your great-grandparents," Connor said, getting into Ned's sweet new truck.

  "Nah, they're generally only combative with each other," Ned said cheerfully, flicking on the blue flashing light.

  Connor knew Ned was living with Jessica and Davey. He knew Ned was involved with Levi Cooper's little sister--everyone knew that except Levi. Connor knew Ned had gotten himself into a hole financially and was trying to dig out, and he knew that Jessica almost never said no to the chance to earn a little more money.

  It didn't stop him from being irritatingly jealous. Ned got to see her every day. Here Connor was on a date with a woman who'd been planning her wedding since she was, according to her, a newborn, and Ned got to see Jessica in her pajamas. Maybe even in a towel.

  "So was that your girlfriend?" Ned asked.

  "Shut up."

  Ned laughed. "Oh, you poor slob."

  "Don't make me sic Levi on you, son."

  The laughter stopped abruptly. "Sorry, dude."

  They pulled up in front of Rushing Creek Retirement Home, the first vehicle on the scene. The truth was, Connor would rather be chasing down combative seniors than back on that date.

  Nothing thrilled the residents more than a visit from Manningsport's first responders, so there was a crowd waiting.

  "Oh, Ned's here! That's my great-grandson. Isn't he handsome! Hello, Neddy-Bear!" called Mrs. Holland. "And hello, Connor dear!"

  "Hi, Goggy! What have you done this time?" Ned asked as they headed for the front door.

  "Oh, it's not me, honey! It's Arlene Piller. She's naked and on the run. And armed."

  "Armed?"

  "With a cane."

  The facility was set up on different floors and wings, depending on the level of care required. The Hollands were in the residential unit, which was basically a posh apartment complex. It went from there to people recovering from surgery, people with chronic medical conditions, a hospice unit, and the highest level of care, the dementia unit.

  A grumpy staffer stood in the hall, holding an ice pack against his face. "She's in the conservatory. And she's stronger than she looks. Swinging like Derek Jeter. She hit three of us."

  "What's her medical condition?" Connor asked.

  "Well, she's older than the puppy God got as a child, and she weighs about ninety pounds, but she's like a ninja with that cane. Dementia."

  "Fun," Ned said. "Okay, we got this, right, Connor?"

  "Hey, guys."

  It was Jess.

  "Got your lasso ready?" Ned asked. "She's already taken out three orderlies."

  There was a crash from the conservatory, a great glass-domed structure. The smell of soil and humidity was rich in the air. A tiled walk led through the enormous room; it was one of the bigger selling points of Rushing Creek, and Connor could see why. Orchids--Bailey's favorite!--roses, even lilac trees were in bloom. There were orange and lemon trees, and Connor caught the scent of basil, chives and coriander. Good. Fresh herbs improved virtually every dish. Maybe he should teach a cooking class for seniors here.

  "It's awfully quiet," Ned said. "Hold me, Jess, I'm scared."

  "Be professional," Connor muttered. "Mrs. Piller?" he called. "It's Connor O'Rourke. I'm an EMT with the fire department. You doing okay?"

  "Bite me!" came a creaky voice.

  "What a sweet little old lady," Ned said.

  "Con, you have such a way with the elderly," Jessica added.

  "You're both so helpful," Connor muttered. "Mrs. Piller, you need to come back to your room, okay?"

  "No! Not okay! Take a bite of this, mister!" With that, she shook her withered shanks from behind a potted palm.

  "Oh, my Jesus. I'm too young for this," Ned said. "I'll get backup. Where's Levi, anyway?"

  Actually, the rest of the emergency services department was standing in the conservatory entrance, shooting the shit and laughing, from the look of it. Levi, Emmaline, Gerard, Bryce Campbell, a few others Connor couldn't see. "Hey, Connor," Emmaline called. "You were first on the scene. You've got this, buddy."

  "We're here if you need us," Levi seconded, grinning.

  "Thanks," Connor said.

  "I'm never going back!" Mrs. Piller yelled. "And you can't make me! I have a cane! I will hit you! I will hit you hard!"

  Connor looked at Jess, who seemed to be enjoying herself. She was wearing a cute little white shirt and cropped jeans, canvas shoes on her feet.

  As ever, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

  He was done with dating, he decided then and there. He'd rather be alone than with someone who wasn't Jess. He didn't want kids if she wasn't going to be their mother. He'd be Uncle Con, and a great brother to Savannah and Colleen, and Paulie Petrosinsky, for that matter.

  The decision made him feel strangely lighter.

  "Let's go get her," Jessica said.

  "Don't you dare!" Mrs. Piller said. There was a rustle of leaves and a flash of bluish-white skin as she scurried from one tree to another.

  "Mrs. Piller, we just want to make sure you're okay," Jessica said. "Can I come closer?"

  "Only if you want a cane in your eye."

  Connor grinned. Had to admire the old lady's spirit. "How about if we just hang out for a while?" he suggested. "Just the three of us."

  "I don't trust women," came the answer.

  "Me neither," he said, looking at Jess and feeling his mouth tug. "How about just us two, Mrs. Piller? You and me?"

  There was a pause. "All right."

  "Out you go, Jessica," he said.

  "You sure? I don't want her to hurt you."

  "I have a thing for women who hurt me, as you well know." She smiled in response, always a good sport.

  "Good luck, you big hero," she said, and she left, closing the French doors behind her. "This is not a show, people," he heard her say to the rest of the squad. "Give me that phone, Ned."

  Maybe Connor and Jess really could be friends. They'd known each other too long not to like each other anymore. If it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest every time he saw her, then so be it. Being friends with her was better than dating Not Jessica.

  He walked slowly toward where he thought Mrs. Piller was. She was stroking the petals of an orchid, naked as the day she was born. Her knees were swollen with arthritis, and, well, gravity had taken its toll on just about everything. A wave of sympathy rolled over him. If this had been his grandmother, he'd want her to be treated with dignity.

  "How was your day, Mrs. Piller?" he asked, walking slowly toward her.

  "Call me Arlene. It wasn't my best," she said.

  "Any reason?"

  "I just... I get sick of needing people. I hate people."

  "Me, too." She held her cane, but it seemed like her batting impulse was over. "Hi," he said, extending his hand. "Connor O'Rourke."

  She didn't shake it. "That's a nice name. I'll still hit you if you try to catch me, but that's a fine Irish name."

  "On behalf of my mother, thank you." She smiled at that. Didn't seem demented to him. He started unbuttoning his shirt. "How about if you put this on?" He shrugged out of it and offered it to her.

  She looked him up and down. "Very nice."

  "Thanks."

  "Do you lift weights?" she asked, struggling to her feet.

  "Sometimes. Let me help you with that." He pulled his shirt around her. Her hands were shaky with age or exertion; he buttoned it up, relieved not to have to see her naked anymore. Not because she was old...just because i
t was so personal. The shirt hung down to her knees, she was so tiny and frail.

  "I suppose you're going to put me in a straitjacket and tie me into a wheelchair now."

  "Not really my thing," he said. "But we could talk if you want."

  "I'm too exhausted to run anymore. Go ahead, lock me up in this hellhole if you want."

  "I'm good. Can you tell me where we are and what day it is?"

  "We're in death's waiting room," she said, and Connor couldn't help a laugh.

  "How about the town?" he asked.

  "We're in Manningsport at Rushing Creek--there's no creek that I can see, by the way. And it's May something. In hell, all the days run together."

  "Fair point. Any pain anywhere? Did you fall down or hurt yourself?"

  "No."

  "And as for being naked and running around the place, got an answer for that?"

  "Because I hate being called honey by some know-it-all seventy years younger than I am. Thought I'd shake things up a little and rebel."

  Connor laughed again.

  "It's not funny, young man."

  "It's pretty funny." She gave him a begrudging smile. He looked around. "I didn't expect to see so many flowers in hell. Even more than in my yard."

  "Do you live in a nice place?"

  She was lonely. And he could see it, having to come live here, maybe not by choice. Having staffers treat you with kindness, but maybe not respect. "My house is a two-family Victorian," he said. "It's got a nice front porch, and an apartment upstairs. I bought it because I wanted to marry a nice girl and have her brother live with us."

  "She turned you down, did she?"

  "She did. So now it's just me."

  "You should get a dog."

  "I'm thinking about it."

  "I like dachshunds myself."

  "They're okay."

  "I suppose you like the big, manly breeds." She gave his torso another appreciative look. He smiled at her.

  She sighed. "I'm ready to go back, Connor O'Rourke. Thank you for treating me like a person."

  He stood up and offered his hand. "It was very nice meeting you. Maybe I can come back and visit you."

  "Are you hitting on me, as you young people call it?"

  "Would you have me?"

  She laughed merrily. "No! You're young enough to be my great-grandson."