by Heather Hunt
“Au contraire, Princess,” he popped back. At her raised brows, he added, “While I don’t remember having that one at Tech, we had smart kid clubs, too.”
“Touché.”
“Okay, you win.” He held up his hands then waved one of Mrs. Elderman’s linen napkins. “I surrender. White flag and all.”
“Smart man,” Grace said past a satisfied smile.
“So, since it seems that we’re going to be working together on this project, how about you let me in on your plans.”
“Well, to be honest, the assignment came as a surprise to me.” Grace lifted her napkin from her lap and began to twist it nervously.
Jack followed her actions with hawk-like eyes, taking in her every movement.
“I found out about it last week,” she admitted. “I’ve reviewed the files, though, and I think your firm’s master plan is great.”
Jack rewarded her with a pleased smile.
“I was there today to get the lay of the land. Of course, I never expected that I would find myself actually lying on the land.” He didn’t laugh, so she continued.
“I just wanted to look around and see what needs to be accomplished first. As a contractor, you should know more than others how things are never as they appear on paper. Especially when there are people involved.”
“Keep talking” he said as he shoveled a bite of cobbler directly from the serving bowl into his mouth.
“You should know that I have very biased views on retirement homes. To be honest, I hate them. The thought of my Nana or Grandpa in that place in almost unbearable.” She closed her eyes on the thought. “This project has been dropped in my lap, though, and I plan on doing my very best. I know people think that Daddy is simply making a job for me, but I’m really good at what I do, Jack. Succeeding is important to me. If I fail, not only will I lose face, but my father will be criticized for his decision to hire me. That just isn’t an outcome I’m willing to live with. Not to mention that those poor, pitiful folks, people just like my grandparents, are living in a terrible situation. The Bible says that we are to respect our elders. Take care of them.”
“You can say that again,” he nodded and scooped up another spoonful of dessert.
Noticing that her cobbler was headed for nonexistency, she dipped her spoon into the warm concoction and took a bite.
“Oh, this is heavenly,” Grace sighed. She closed her eyes and savored the combination of sweet sugar and tart apples.
“Mrs. Elderman has a way with apples,” Jack agreed.
“Anyway,” she continued despite her increasingly slurred speech. “I was only there for a short while today, and I recognized that things just weren’t right. It was so...” Grace seemed lost for a moment.
She had raised her spoon in the air to emphasize a point, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what she had been about to say. Her mind was a complete blank. Whether her sudden speechlessness was caused by the combination of sugar and cinnamon or the effects of the medication, Grace was unsure. What she did know was that she was suddenly feeling very foolish. And more than a little giddy. She took another bite of cobbler to disguise her cluelessness.
Jake watched as she licked her spoon, his eyes darkening to a steely blue in the dim light of the bedside lamp. He wondered if she recognized how pretty she was. Probably not. From what her father had intimated, Grace was pretty much a recluse who had spent the years when most young women socialized or dated either studying or working behind the scenes on projects for the company or her community church.
In other words, a diamond in the rough, Jack thought to himself.
Grace dipped the spoon again and scooped up the last of the dessert.
“Want the last bite?” She held the spoon toward his mouth.
“No,” he shook his head. “You take it. It’s much more fun to watch you, anyway.”
“Are you flirting with me, Jack Ellis?” Grace wondered aloud. More importantly, was she flirting with him?
“Princess, I think it’s time you had a little nap,” Jack felt a wave of heat hit his face at her question.
“Mmm. That was good.”
“It definitely was.” Jack leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. It was all he could do not to laugh aloud as the prim and proper Miss Woodhouse attempted to flirt. He wondered if she was even aware that she was doing it.
Grace watched her visitor from across the table. Jack had changed into a different pair of jeans, but these were just as worn as the ones from earlier today. The crisp white tee-shirt did nothing to conceal his muscled chest, either. He looked so good that Grace was tempted to look away.
But she didn’t.
“Yep, I think it’s definitely time for bed,” Jack said over the hum of the window air conditioner. “I’m pretty sure that a princess like you requires hours of beauty sleep.”
“What do you mean by that?” she pouted. “You think I’m ugly? You think I need beauty sleep?”
“I think you’re beautiful, Grace,” Jack surprised her by saying. “Whether or not you can attribute it to sleep is not my call.” He gave a careless shrug.
Grace’s response was drowned out by a series of clanking thuds from the air conditioner. They looked toward the window unit. From all appearances, it would be a miracle if the thing made it through the night. Jack decided he would have to take a look at it tomorrow. While the mountain nights were turning cool, the days were still hot. If Grace planned on staying any length of time, she’d need the air conditioning. Plus, it would give him a chance to see her again.
“Never mind, Grace,” Jack told her as he picked up the spoon she’d dropped onto the floor. “You seem a little sleepy. Your medication must be working. How about if I move some of this stuff out of the way?” He motioned toward the plate of uneaten food on her lap.
“You’re a lifesaver. A genius! Just like...” Grace was in the middle of the compliment when her chin suddenly made a downward arc toward her chest.
“I’m sure,” Jack told her sleeping form.
He lifted her injured foot from its perch on a small stool and moved it onto the chaise. He walked over to the bed and grabbed a pillow and a soft throw. Careful not to wake her, he loosened the sling and propped her arm on the pillow. The doctor had insisted that she elevate her injured extremities as much as possible, and Jack knew that if he left it up to her, it would never happen.
Grace moaned in pain with the action. The sound stabbed at Jack’s heart, but he knew that he was only following the doctor’s orders. He arranged the blanket across her legs and moved the table out of the way before heading toward the door, locking it on his way out.
When he reached the front door, Mrs. Elderman called a ‘goodbye’ from the kitchen.
“Goodbye, ma’am,” he answered. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”
“As if I need you telling me how to take care of that sweet little thing in there, Jackson Ellis,” she replied. “Don’t you forget, I changed your diapers, young man!”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. E.,” he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Forgive me?” He raised his brows in an action familiar to the older woman.
“Get on with you, you little flirt,” she swatted him on his backside as he headed outside onto the porch. “You’ll be back?”
“Don’t see how I can avoid it now,” he heaved a deep sigh. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he assured her.
As he walked to his truck, Jack had an uncanny premonition that keeping an eye on the accident-prone prima donna would be par for the course...at least until her work at Mansfield Park was complete.
And the way he figured it, he was just the man for the job!
•∞•∞•
The next morning, as Grace struggled to awaken, she found that several of her body parts throbbed as if she’d been run over by a truck.
Wait a minute! Something is not right here. What is going on?
Her head fell back onto the cushion of the chaise as she remembered the e
vents of the previous day. Her arm and ankle were absolutely killing her!
She took a moment to stretch out the kinks in her neck before she tried to move anything else. Practically helpless, she scooted over to the edge of the lounge, grimacing as she felt a pain in her backside. The memory was swift, and she vowed then and there to avoid nurses at all costs. After all, if not for Nurse North and her ridiculous vaccination, she would have never been in this predicament in the first place.
Grace tried to remember the events following her visit to the Emergency Room, but her mind was hazy. She recalled Jack Ellis and a few smirking grins, but other than that, she was lost.
“Well, he’s probably like everyone else, thinking I’m going to fail at this assignment,” she said as she reached toward a cane someone had hooked over the arm of a nearby chair. She pulled herself up with her good arm and headed toward the restroom.
“Well, I’ll show him that working with Grace Woodhouse is a completely different ballgame. Just wait until Jack Ellis gets a load of me!”
Chapter 3
Scents and Senility
“Hey, Artie, get a load of her!” Grace heard a man call out as she entered the foyer of Mansfield Park three days later.
She leaned on her cane and pierced him with a withering stare. Despite her intentions to head into work the day after the accident, her pain had been too severe to allow more than a few minutes of standing. Working beyond the comfort of the chaise lounge had not been an option until today. Thankfully, she’d had her laptop. Plus, Jack had breezed in a couple of times to make a repair or two. Grace’s irritated expression turned to a smile at the image of Jack Ellis pampering her.
Ah, bliss!
Remembering her previous mishap, Grace turned around in a cautious circle and headed toward the Common Room. Thankfully, Mrs. Elderman had volunteered to keep an eye on Mr. Knightley. Grace had been overjoyed with the offer and had quickly accepted. Tugging on a leash would not have been possible with the sling and cane.
As had occurred on her first visit, she was hit by the stale smell of urine and moth balls the minute she exited the foyer.
Something’s gotta’ give with the ventilation in this place, she groaned to herself. She added that item to her mental checklist and headed toward the director’s office...but not before she heard the other man’s parting comment.
“They’re letting them in here younger and younger every day,” he replied in a loud voice. “Why, that girl’s at least forty.”
“And get Mr. Polyester Plaid Pants a new set of bifocals,” Grace tacked onto her growing list with a grumble.
She glanced down at her outfit and felt a surge of annoyance. Why, merely the cut of the emerald green wrap blouse screamed twenty-something. Not to mention what it did to accentuate her eye color!
She moved to retrieve her smart phone then groaned as she realized that she couldn’t reach it. With one hand practically glued to the cane and the other encased in the sling, Grace was forced to sit down just to do the most basic of functions. The helplessness and lack of order was driving her crazy.
As she hobbled down the hall, she took a closer look at the corporate gift that, according to Jack Ellis, had been dropped in her lap. Dilapidated tile floors in a dull shade of beige. Walls covered in such a pasty shade of aqua that it had to be a leftover from the lead-laden days. Dim overhead lighting that would make the hallways difficult to navigate even for a teenager.
Yes, this was certainly a gift!
With the exception of the third-world countries she had visited during mission trips, this was surely the most depressing place she’d ever seen. If she were an old person living in this mess, she would never have her cataracts repaired! What good would seeing well do for you in this place, anyway, apart from keeping you from falling on your…Hmmm. Come to think of it, having 20/20 vision hadn’t even given her an advantage on that end, after all!
Good grief! She didn’t yet know the people here, and she was already feeling sorry for them! She recalled the words of Paul to Timothy in the Bible: “Keep that which is committed to thy trust.”
Not only had her father entrusted these people to her care, but God had, as well. Guarding their health and their safety was the first thing she would get to work on! It had become her latest mission.
She twisted her spine as much as possible and tried to drop her phone back into her tote. Before she could accomplish the task, an elderly man shuffled toward her.
“There you are, my beautiful Marianne.” He reached out and patted her cheek. A second later, he took her cane and began planting soft kisses on the back of her hand. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to,” he said.
Grace looked into his eyes and saw a strange kind of recognition. In some way, this man knew her, not as Grace, but as someone he loved very much. Someone named Marianne. The beautiful Marianne, Grace added to herself. She gave the man a timid smile, and she was rewarded in a like manner.
Taking her weight as if he understood her dilemma, he curled her good arm around his elbow and led her toward a drab sitting area near the lobby. He fluffed the pillows on a ratty plaid sofa and helped her to sit.
Grace glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was dressed in a warm-up and his body seemed surprisingly fit compared to the state of his mind. His stark white hair was neatly combed, and he had been shaved recently. She thought for moment and finally put her mind around the word that described him to a tee. Distinguished.
He continued to hold her hand as he stared out a small window that looked as if it hadn’t seen a spray of window cleaner in the past decade. Finally, he turned to her with a smile.
“There you are, my beautiful Marianne.” He cupped her face in the palm of his hand. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”
Touched by his sweet, although repetitive, comment, she gave his hand a squeeze.
“I’ve been here all along,” she told him.
“So you have, my precious wife.”
As Grace sat on the sofa, she began to realize the gravity of her situation. She had been in town for less than a week, and she was already in totally over her head. She was used to blueprints and portfolios. Fact sheets and cost-analyses. She soared with those things.
People were a completely different commodity. And when it came to caring for elderly people? Why, that was off the chart! She had no idea what she was doing!
For crying out loud! She didn’t know the first thing about old people and the conditions they suffered from. Sure, she had heard of Alzheimer’s disease, which she figured was the likely culprit in this man’s dementia, but now that she had actually seen how it affected someone, she began to get a better grasp of the helplessness of the situation. She could only imagine how this poor man was dealing with it and how his family members must be suffering.
The guilt crept over her as she remembered her ire at the assignment and the complaints she had repeated over and over on her way up the Blue Ridge Mountains.
What if this sweet little man was your Grandpa Woodhouse? She felt a prick of shame deep in her heart and closed her eyes.
“Father, God,” she whispered to herself. “Please forgive my selfishness. I’m lost here, and I need your guidance. Please don’t leave me. Please help me help these people. Amen.”
After her prayer, Grace sat by her companion, listening to his steady breathing and pondering her situation. It was sobering when she thought about it. The place actually needed her! She had never found herself in that position before. Ever! And in some deranged way of thinking, it actually gave her an uncanny sense of independence. Of freedom.
Her delight in suddenly discovering that she might actually have something to offer the people of Mansfield Park was interrupted by a shrieking voice.
“This place needs a paging system,” Grace mumbled under her breath. She reached for her phone to make a note then thought better of it. With the constant yelling, she would have no problem remembering that need.
“Agatha! Theodore has escaped again!” Grace heard the loud voice just before she saw a man rounding the corner.
It was the bone-crushing, people-parting Moses from the day of her accident. Remembering how one of the tiny female residents had been practically flattened by his girth, Grace pulled her sore ankle closer to the sofa as he headed their way.
“Miss Woodhouse,” he gushed. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He looked at her companion then glanced around nervously as if waiting for some type of intervention. A few moments later, the white-capped Nurse North entered the room and walked toward Grace’s new admirer.
“Let’s go back to your room, Theodore.” The nurse thrust out her hand.
Grace’s sidekick ignored the woman and returned his gaze to the window. When Nurse North reached down to take his arm, he tightened his grip on Grace’s hand. Realizing that disaster was merely seconds away, Grace gently turned the old man’s face to hers.
“Theodore, dear,” she began, “I think that it’s time for us to head home.”
“Of course, Marianne.” He stood up and offered her his arm. Before Grace could take it, Nurse North wedged herself between them.
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Woodhouse.” The nurse grabbed the man’s arm and tugged him toward the door.
Without really thinking of the consequences, Grace picked up her cane and held it out between the nurse and the door.
“No, I think that it is necessary that I walk Theodore to his room.”
Knowing that her flimsy hold on her cane was not much of a deterrent, Grace aimed for a stern tone. It must have worked, too, because not only was Nurse North stopped in her steps, but the portly bystander stood there in open-mouthed shock.
Grace held in a grin at the sight of the man’s slack jaw.
She felt like doing a juvenile little cheer, but with her current injuries, she decided against it. After managing to pull herself into a standing position, she hobbled to stand by the man she now thought of as Theo. She turned to the other man with a piercing glare.