“Thanks.” She texted a reply. “I appreciate it.”
He reached over and squeezed her knee. “No problem.”
Twenty minutes later, Liam was being tended to in the community room by a doting Miss Mim, and Zane and Nora and Mr. Pierce were seated in the conference room with Dr. Wheeler.
The geriatric specialist had his laptop open and was showing them the MRI and CT scans. “As you can see,” the doctor concluded, “there are no abnormalities.”
“So I’m not ill?” Mr. Pierce asked incredulously.
The physician handed over a paper copy of the results. “We had two different teams look at the results. Neurology and geriatrics. The conclusion was unanimous. There’s no evidence of stroke, tumor or disease. No diminished blood flow, or any other evidence of anything that would cause mental confusion.”
Mr. Pierce slumped in his chair. “So why am I still having periods of confusion and disorientation? Short-term memory problems?”
Good question, Zane thought, as unsatisfied as the man he’d been drafted to support.
“That, we don’t know yet,” Dr. Wheeler said kindly. “All we can verify right now is that there is no underlying biological or physiological condition evident.”
Which meant what? Zane wondered. That a time would come when they would find something nefarious in Mr. Pierce’s brain?
The older man sat up straight in his chair. “What about medication? Isn’t there something I can take that would help? I see advertisements all the time.”
Most of which were quack cures, even Zane knew. Marketed and sold to the truly desperate.
His manner firm yet soothing, Dr. Wheeler replied, “We’re not recommending adding anything else to your daily regimen at this point. We’d rather focus on other options like occupational therapy. Daily physical activity and memory exercises. Perhaps a better, much more specific daily schedule to keep you on track.”
“I can make arrangements to get you started on all that tomorrow,” Nora put in.
Mr. Pierce traced the buckle on the classic leather-bound copy of Treasure Island in front of him. He looked up warily. “And if that doesn’t work?”
Dr. Wheeler frowned. “Then we’ll have to consider at least discussing moving you to a place that focuses specifically on memory care.”
* * *
WHILE NORA STAYED behind to speak with Dr. Wheeler, Zane walked down the hall with Mr. Pierce. His heart went out to the eighty-five-year-old. “Not exactly what you wanted to hear?”
Mr. Pierce shook his head, disappointed. They continued on a moment in silence. “You know what I did last night? I spent an hour looking for my wallet.”
“Where was it?” Zane asked.
“In my trousers pocket,” he related, embarrassed.
Zane clapped a hand on his shoulder, empathizing. “We all do that. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve lost my sunglasses only to find out they were on my head.”
As they entered his suite, Mr. Pierce continued grimly, “You know what I did at midnight on Friday?”
Zane shook his head, waiting for the older man to enlighten him.
“I called the owner of the Rare Books Store in Wichita Falls, a colleague I’ve known and worked with for thirty years, and berated him for not having sent Esther’s Christmas gift, which was a gold-leaf embossed leather-bound edition of Little Women. Sort of like this one.” Mr. Pierce held up Treasure Island. “Only without the buckle.”
Zane took the seat Mr. Pierce suggested. “What did your colleague do?”
He shelved his book with the other classics in his vast collection. Then returned to sit in the armchair opposite Zane. “Well, at first my friend thought I was joking, since he knows as well as I do that Esther is in heaven. And then when he realized I wasn’t, he played along with me. And then called Lynn in New York City.”
“I’m guessing your daughter then called you?”
“Yes. Hearing her voice snapped me out of it, and I told her I thought I’d been sleepwalking.”
“Lynn doesn’t know the problems you’ve been having?”
Russell Pierce frowned. “Nurse Nora informed her about my occassional confusion the first couple of weeks that I lived here. Lynn was so concerned I haven’t let anyone here tell her anything since.”
Which was his right, Zane knew, under medical privacy laws.
“But if this keeps up, my daughter will figure it out. Perhaps sooner rather than later, since she is planning to come down for Christmas to visit me.”
Zane looked him in the eye. “How can I help?”
“That’s just it. You can’t.” Russell frowned. “If I’m going to snap myself out of this foggy mess I’ve been living in, I’m going to have to do it myself.”
* * *
“IS MR. PIERCE OKAY?” Nora asked worriedly as Zane caught up with her and Liam. She watched the elderly gentleman walk into the dining hall and take a seat at a table with Wilbur Barnes and Darrell Enlow. He seemed alert and aware. Determinedly cheerful. As if his private talk with Zane had helped somehow. Nora knew how that felt. There was just something so kind and reassuring about him. She always felt better, just being with him.
He turned to Nora, gave her shoulder a squeeze.
“I think so.” Zane paused in obvious concern, relating quietly, “He’s frustrated, of course.”
Nora sighed. “We all are. I had hoped the tests would show something really minor that could be fixed instead of just...nothing.” She shook her head.
“Maybe the memory therapies you are setting up for him will help.”
Glad she had Zane to lean on in that moment, Nora bit her lip. “Maybe. I just can’t help but think we’re letting him down somehow, though.”
Zane met her gaze. “What else could you have done?”
That was just it. She shook her head in silent admonition. “I don’t know.” She swallowed around the knot of emotion in her throat. “I’m going to have to think on it some more. Talk to Dr. Wheeler again.” She gestured to the front of the dining hall, where Betty Blair and Miss Patricia were waving at them. “In the meantime, I think they’ve reserved some seats for us.”
Zane grinned. “We better get up there then before someone has a conniption.”
She ran her gaze over his tall, muscular frame. In jeans, boots and a charcoal crewneck sweater that brought out the dark silver of his eyes, he was the epitome of rugged masculinity. “It’s your fault. If you weren’t so genial and capable, you wouldn’t be so popular.”
He tossed her an amused glance, then tilted his handsome head in the direction of her adorable baby boy, currently commanding a similar amount of feminine attention. “Actually, I think it’s Liam they’re after, darlin’.”
Nora chuckled. “Could be.”
A cute infant was a hot commodity in a seniors’ center.
They made their way and sat down, just as Miss Sadie took the podium. “Okay, everyone, we’re going to run through the rules for the Ugly Sweater contest,” she announced, as papers stating the same were passed out by the dining hall aides.
“Every sweater must be a base color of green or red.”
From the look on Zane’s face, it was all he could do not to moan.
Nora nudged his knee beneath the table.
Gave him a look that said behave.
Mischief glittering in his eyes, he nudged her knee right back.
“Homemade decals or decorations must adorn the front and/or the sleeves, while the backs of the sweaters are to be left plain.”
As Miss Sadie went on, with the exact dimensions and type of fabric or material permissible for each decoration, Zane’s eyes began to glaze over a little. He looked distracted. Restless. Worse, Nora couldn’t blame him for being bored.
This w
as a little much.
Even more so for someone in the Special Forces, where high stakes, fast action and adrenaline were the norm.
His phone chimed softly. Looking stoked for the interruption, he removed it from his pocket and put it down on his thigh, where only he could see the screen.
Frowning, he discreetly texted something back. Then put the phone back in his pocket.
It went off again, ever so softly.
And then again.
He answered briefly—twice—then put it back in his pocket.
Nora was curious. And so was Betty Blair, who was seated on the other side of him.
Was it someone from his unit? Nora wondered, as the texts continued nonstop. His family? And why did Zane suddenly look so completely engrossed and businesslike...? As if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders?
Oblivious to whatever was going on with Zane and the messages he was receiving, and the way Betty Blair was practically breaking her neck trying to figure it out, too, Miss Sadie concluded, “So those are the rules. And just like last year, we’ll have three impartial judges from the community, unless there are any objections.” She lowered her bifocals. “Yes, Betty?”
“I think Nora needs to participate this year.” Betty paused to give Zane a long, meaningful look. As if blaming him for his complete lack of attention during this very important holiday event. “Zane, too.”
A murmur of assent went through the hall. What was the older woman up to? Nora wondered. More matchmaking? Or simply an attempt to draw Zane more fully into life at Laramie Gardens.
Nora lifted her hand. “Actually, I don’t think it would be fair for me to compete against any of the residents.”
This time, Zane nudged her foot with his. “Actually—” he looked at her, his preoccupation with his texts fading, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes “—I think it’s only fair you do compete, Nora.”
Everyone chuckled.
“Liam could enter, too!” Miss Patricia said excitedly.
Which would really make it seem like the three of them were officially a family. Suddenly, life in Laramie was getting far too complicated.
“If I do it, and Liam does it, you have to do it, too, Zane Lockhart,” Nora declared, just as emphatically, wondering how in the world she was going to find the time to make two sweaters before the deadline the following week. Never mind compete with Zane!
The incorrigible lieutenant folded his arms across his broad chest and flashed her a hallelujah smile. Then he leaned toward her and winked, as if he couldn’t wait. “You’re on!”
* * *
“SO NOW DO you see what you got yourself into?” Nora asked, several hours later, after Liam was finally asleep in his crib.
Sighing dramatically, Zane studied the contest regulations with a jaundiced eye. “That’s a lot of rules,” he said finally.
Nora continued putting ornaments on her tree, aware at the rate she was going, her house would not be fully decorated for the holidays until Christmas Eve. But she couldn’t really say she minded her slow-as-a-turtle pace, given the reason behind it. All the time spent with Liam. And Zane.
Trying not to dwell on the fact that his R & R was now more than half over, Nora continued her mock scolding, “Which you would have known had you been paying more attention when Miss Sadie was reading them.” Instead of managing whatever it was you were overseeing on your cell phone.
Zane put aside the competition explanation, then ambled toward her. He picked up several ornaments and began placing them on the branches. The faint restlessness he’d evidenced all evening was still there. Only now it was directed right at her. “What happens if you don’t follow the contest rules?” he asked slyly.
Or, she wondered, you find you can’t handle the much-slower pace of a small Texas town, after all?
Their shoulders brushed as they both moved in the same direction at once. Nora worked to still her racing pulse and stepped back so they were no longer touching. She met his gaze equably. “You get disqualified.”
And I get my heart broken all over again, just as I sort of always knew I would.
“How about that,” Zane murmured, grinning as if he’d just found a way out of the situation he didn’t really want to be in.
Hoping the Ugly Sweater contest wasn’t a metaphor for the situation they always eventually found themselves in, Nora frowned. “You need to take this seriously, soldier, now that you’ve gotten us all in it,” she warned, going back to the box for more ornaments.
Because she would be here, living in Texas and working at Laramie Gardens, long after he had left again.
If he reenlisted again.
He said he wouldn’t.
She knew he wanted to believe that. And most of his current actions pointed to that. But she also knew what had happened before, when he’d been needed by his country. He’d gone off to serve. The possibility he might do so again remained, whether either of them wanted to admit it or not. Because there was always a crisis somewhere in the world, an American citizen or soldier who needed rescuing. Always a need for his elite Special Forces unit. And within that, a need for a talented soldier like Zane.
“You can’t duck out of this competition,” she said sternly. “Not after promising to be in it.”
Abruptly reminding her of the way he and his fellow elite operators liked to blow off steam, he regarded her in all innocence. “Not planning to.”
Yeah, right. He was formulating a strategy. Most likely an ornery one to liven up what otherwise had the potential to be a very nitpicky and tedious event. She peered at him suspiciously, demanding, “What are you planning?”
Zane picked up the last of the colored glass bulbs. He placed his on the highest branches, filling in the places she had thus far been unable to reach. “I’m going to surprise you.”
Exactly what she feared. She needed predictable. She needed safe. She needed him here, with her and Liam.
Smile widening, he clasped her wrist and reeled her in. “And speaking of surprises...”
She quirked a brow, prompting him to elaborate.
“Now that we finally have your tree decorated,” he said in that deep, husky voice she loved, “do you want to wrap Liam’s presents tonight?”
Something else they’d put off.
Something else that would make them feel even more like a family. One that, despite all her secret hopes and dreams, she wasn’t sure was going to last.
“On one condition,” Nora countered, before she could stop herself, recalling how elusive and distracted he’d been most of that evening.
Zane’s brow lifted the way it always did when unsolicited conditions were put on him.
“You tell me who Raquel is.”
Chapter Twelve
Zane stared at Nora. “How do you know about Raquel?” he asked incredulously.
“Betty Blair was reading your text messages all through dinner. You seriously didn’t notice?”
He shrugged. “I only had eyes for you and Liam.”
“And your phone,” Nora couldn’t resist adding.
“True,” he said a bit sheepishly.
She held his gaze. Waited.
He came closer. Reluctantly admitted, “Raquel is a friend of Sage’s. Someone from our family’s Dallas days. She’s agreed to help me out with an estate matter.”
Nora knew, from her own grandparents’ passing, how complicated and seemingly unending the legal matters could be after the loss of a loved one. And given his family’s extensive wealth, it was probably even more so.
She flushed, embarrassed to have put him on the spot like that. “Oh.”
Gently, he cupped her face in his large, warm palm. “So there really is no need for you to be jealous.”
Nora released an uneven bre
ath. “I’m not!”
His brow lifted in a way that said it was his turn to await a response. Unfortunately, Nora couldn’t explain it in a way that would not make her sound overly mistrustful. She just had a nagging feeling Zane was holding something back from her.
The clandestine talk with his brother during the dinner at the Circle H, with Garrett requesting Zane not speak to their mom about Zane’s plans until after Christmas Day. The big stack of papers Zane was trying to go through, at long last. His changing the beneficiary on his life insurance policies to make sure she and Liam were taken care of, in the event of anything happening to him.
It was all a little too much. All seeming to point to one thing. He was likely going to reenlist for another tour, leave her again for months at a time and let his service to his country dictate the terms of his life.
He was being noble. Courageous.
Whereas she was worried and upset. With effort, she pushed her anxiety away. What good would it do to fret about any of this now, when he only had some twelve days left before he returned to finish his tour? They still had Christmas together.
Maybe it was time she started doing what she had promised herself and start living more in the moment, too. Give him the space he needed to really figure out just what he was going to do next, and then simply support him. Instead of always agonizing about what lay just beyond the bend.
Maybe it was time she dug deep to find a wellspring of courage and selflessness, too.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.” She swallowed around the ache in her throat. “I’m just exhausted.”
Holding her gaze, he rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “Do you still want to wrap presents, then, while Liam’s asleep, or call it a day so you can go on to bed?”
“Actually,” Nora said, taking him all the way in her arms. “What I’d really like to do is this.”
* * *
ZANE GRINNED AS Nora tugged off his sweater, then took him by the hand and up to her bed. With a sweeping gesture, she invited him to sit on the edge while she began a slow and seductive striptease.
Apparently, it was his turn for Christmas to come early. He watched her undress, the sight of her extraordinarily intimate and immensely pleasurable.
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