Unbelievable: The Port Fare Series Book Two

by Sherry Gammon

  “I couldn’t agree more.” I leaned my head back against the elevator wall as the doors closed. But it ain’t gonna happen.

  Chapter 34

  Cole

  “Okay, we have the living room and dining room furniture picked out. Now for the bedroom,” I said. Lilah postponed our online furniture shopping yesterday because I kept nodding off. I knew the Brachytherapy and the stupid pain pills were the cause, so today I insisted on only ibuprofen. It didn’t exactly kill the pain, but having my mind back was a good tradeoff.

  “How about this one?” Lilah asked. The set consisted of a boxy headboard and screamed ‘man-bed.’ I shook my head.

  She showed me four more, each one more manly than the next.

  “Cole, what exactly are you looking for? Wood, wrought iron? A sleeping bag?” she teased. “Maybe if you could explain a little more about what you’d like, I could narrow it down some.”

  “I told you before, I want big. I don’t want my feet to fall off the end, or my head,” I said.

  “All these come in California king, so length won’t be an issue,” she assured him.

  “Let me look around.” I scanned several pages from the online store before giving up and Googling bedroom suites. Her pretty jaw dropped open as I pointed to the perfect bed: a massive four poster bed with both wooden and wrought iron posts on the four corners. Iron vines twisted up the post, and a sweeping, arched, hand carved headboard completed the bed.

  “This one, really?” She pointed to the delicate carved wood and metal flowers. “The rich mahogany wood is beautiful, but I’m surprised you like this.”

  “It’s like none of the others we’ve seen. It’s unique, different, don’t you think?” I asked with trepidation.

  “Yes. I love it. This will be perfect for that room. It’s just the right size. It’s just not what I pictured for you.”

  “I’d like the matching armoire and the dresser with the arched mirror, too.” I pointed out. “But I don’t like the washed out blue comforter on it. I want more color.”

  She placed her hand on my forehead, pretending to feel for a fever. “Very funny,” I said.

  “I’ve pictured your room more . . . well, manly. These furnishings have an undeniably romantic feel to them. They don’t exactly scream ‘hot single guy sleeps here.’”

  “I’m not going to be a single guy—”

  “You forgot ‘hot,’” she pointed out.

  “I’m hoping to get married, Lilah. I want to find a bedroom set that a sexy Latina woman would enjoy also.” Her eyes met mine in surprise and I cringed slightly. “Too soon to bring up the ‘M’ word?”

  “You’re talking to Miss Spontaneous. Of course not. I’m just surprised.” She shut the laptop and set it on the bedside table.

  “All right, Miss Spontaneous, I’m giving you fair warning. After all this business with your father is behind us, and we’re sure I don’t have cancer, I’ll be asking you to marry me.” I sat forward.

  “I thought you said you didn’t have cancer. You said it was precancerous,” she pressed, killing the mood for talk of romantic beds and marriage proposals.

  I held out my hand and drew her in close. “It is. I promise. It’s just that cancer can be unpredictable, and I want to be sure I don’t burden you with a sickly husband.”

  “You think I’d feel burdened if you got sick?” She lifted her face to mine. “You are very wrong, Cole. Cancer wouldn’t stop my love.”

  “Thank you.” I kissed her forehead. “I’m a lucky hombre.”

  “Spanish. When did you learn Spanish?”

  “I’ve had a little time on my hands lately,” I said dryly. “How’s this? Te amo, mi querido.”

  “I love you, my dear. Very good, except it’s, Te amo, mi queida,” she corrected. “O is male. A is female. How have you been studying Spanish? I don’t see a book anywhere.” She twisted around, looking for a book.

  “Google,” I admitted with a shrug.

  She laughed. “As soon as you’re better, you’ll learn Spanish from a real Latina.”

  “Deal,” I yawned. “Sorry. I’m still pretty sleepy.”

  “Wonder why?” She tapped my head carefully. “I have to get going anyway. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

  I yawned again. “Te amo, mi querida.”

  “Yo te quiero más,” she said as my eyes shut.

  “Imposible. That one was easy.” I answered, too sleepy to open my eyes. “Maybe we can do some Shakespeare tomorrow.”

  “‘Good night, good night!/ Parting is . . .’” She began quoting Romeo and Juliet as I faded into sleep.

  “The furniture came, with one exception,” Lilah said over the phone. “The bed’s going to take a few more days. They didn’t have the California king in stock and had to special order it.” She sounded disappointed.

  “It’ll be fine. I’m staying with Seth for a few days anyway,” I assured her. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Up early, I’d already showered and shaved. The nurse replaced my cumbersome bandage for one half the size. I was already exhausted. I sat next to the window and struggled to stay awake waiting for Lilah.

  “You look ready to get out of here,” Lilah said, entering the room.

  “Very. Take me home.” I stood slowly, clutching the Shakespeare book to my chest.

  “Are you all right?” She stepped over next to me.

  “I’m fine. It’s just that you know how klutzy I am. I don’t want to take a chance of tripping and falling. They’ll make me stay another day,” I grimaced, now understanding why my patients chomped at the bit to leave. Lousy food, lousy bed, and the nurses woke you all night long to take your vital signs. I needed to go home just to get some rest. Hospitals were exhausting.

  The nurse rolled a wheelchair that hospital policy dictated patients use on discharge into the room. Lilah slipped her arm around my waist to help guide me. “I guess you’d better lean on me,” she said.

  “Hurry, before they bring the bill,” I joked, settling into the chair.

  She spoke animatedly about my house as we walked out. I loved seeing her in good spirits again. She helped me into her pint sized car as I teased her about having to squeeze into the tiny bug.

  “You’re going to have to grease the door to get me out when we get to Seth’s.” I slid the seat back as far as it went. My knees still curled up. “After I change, will you take me over to see the parts of the house that are done?” I suggested.

  “Sure. I hope you like it.”

  When we got to Seth’s, Lilah pulled directly into the driveway and raced around the car to the door and opened it for me.

  “I’m hardly an invalid, Lilah,” I said, stumbling out of the car.

  “I can see that,” she said, stepping up and holding my arm to steady me.

  “I have one condition if you want to see the house.” She had a playful grin on her face.

  “Which is?”

  “You have to wear your jeans. I’ll take you anywhere in those.” She wrapped her arm tight round my waist, giving me a squeeze.

  “You like me in jeans, do ya?” I said, gloating just a little.

  “No,” she replied, shaking her head dramatically. “I love you in jeans.”

  “I’ll go change.” I strutted to the house, cocky grin and all.

  “Cole,” Maggie rushed forward, stopping right in front of me before tentatively offering a hug.

  “I’m not going to break, Mags,” I insisted.

  Seth strolled into the room carrying a stack of text books. “Hey, nice bandage. Come on. I’ll show you to your room.” He set the books on the counter and started for the stairs.

  “Isn’t it the same room I always stay in?” I asked, following him up.

  ”Yup. That’s what I said when Maggie mentioned I should show you.” He turned and winked at her.

  “You’re supposed to walk behind him in case he stumbles,” she pointed out as Seth led the way.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot that
part.” He turned to me. “You’re not going to fall down my stairs, are you?”

  “No,” I scoffed.

  “I told you he’d be fine, Mags,” Seth said as we disappeared into the bedroom. I could almost hear Maggie rolling her eyes.

  Changing took me longer than I thought. Still very weak, I had to stop and sit twice. I finished buttoning my green shirt when Booker called.

  “Welcome home,” he said, sounding in good spirits. “I’m on my way.”

  “Lilah and I are going to see what’s been done on my house. How long before you get here?” I put the phone on speaker and set it on the bed before pushing my legs slowly into my jeans.

  “I’m on my way to Seth’s now. Give me fifteen minutes. I’d like to go over with you if that works for you.”

  “Sure. You can show me what you’ve done upstairs while we’re there.”

  “Sounds good. See you in a few.”

  As I hung up, I thought of Lilah. “Hmm, I probably shouldn’t have told him he could come with us.” I hated the way he treated her and needed to sit Booker down and have a talk with him. This tension had to end.

  I finished dressing and went downstairs for lunch. Seth had made chicken sandwiches. Yes! I loved his chicken sandwiches.

  “These are great,” I said, wolfing down my second one.

  “Glad to see your appetite has recovered,” Seth teased, refilling my glass with milk.

  “Thanks. Have you ever tasted hospital food? You’d be starving too,” I said. “Before I forget, Booker’s on his way over. I hope he hurries,” I said, looking at Lilah as she dipped her head, hiding a frown. No need to mention he’d be going to the house with us yet. I’d deal with one fire at a time.

  Booker showed up as we finished eating. “You look pretty good,” he said, “all things considered.”

  “I feel pretty good.” I stood, draping my arm around Lilah’s shoulders. Booker’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing about my gesture.

  “How’s the pain?” he asked.

  “Tolerable. Mostly I’m weak,” I assured him.

  “Give yourself some time. You’ll be back in the ER, twenty-four/seven, in no time. Should we head over to your place?” Booker asked, grabbing an apple from a large bowl of fruit on the counter.

  Lilah stiffened under my arm. I leaned down and whispered, “I should’ve mentioned that he’s coming with us.” She glared up at me. “That look right there,” I said, pointing to her face, “would be why I didn’t.”

  “Chicken,” she murmured under her breath.

  “I prefer to think of it as wise,” I whispered as Booker opened the door.

  “Cluck, cluck,” she jibbed.

  “You’re okay with me tagging along, right, Delilah?” Booker glanced at her with wide-eyed innocence. Yeah, right, Book and innocence were polar opposites.

  “Booker, ‘Asses are made to bear, and so are you.’” Lilah grinned proudly.

  “Taming of the Shrew, Act II, Scene one,” I said with a laugh as Book rolled his eyes. “Come on, you know that was funny.”

  “Whatever,” he grumbled.

  “You and Mags want to come?” I asked Seth.

  “Too much homework for me,” Seth said, nodding to the stack of books on the counter he’d set there earlier. “Mags, you going?”

  “Sure. I have some errands to run afterward so I’ll drive over separately.” She gathered her keys and purse and followed us out the door.

  Lilah and I sat in the back seat of Booker’s POC mobile, snuggling. Shockingly, Booker’s teeth didn’t shatter considering how hard he clenched them the entire drive. When we got to my house, Lilah again helped me from the car.

  “I’m not an invalid,” I once again pointed out.

  “Nope, you’re not,” Lilah said, still guiding me up the sidewalk.

  “This is amazing.” I stepped inside my newly decorated home. “I love the greens and browns. They make the place feel homey.”

  “Yes, Delilah and Magpie did a great job.” Booker reluctantly admitted.

  “It’s Lilah,” I reminded him for the millionth time. He offered a short, curt nod.

  “We added color, but not too much. We didn’t overwhelm the space. You can see the orange pillows and orange wall décor.” Lilah pointed to the orange picture frame above the couch with a painting.

  “Is that me?” I stepped closer. “That’s really good. This is from that drawing I saw. It’s amazing, Lilah, thank you.” I stroked the beautiful frame around the painting.

  “You’re welcome.” She smiled. “This is actually for your office. I didn’t have time to finish the one I’m doing for in here. And I know you don’t like orange, so we can repaint the frame.”

  “I’m guessing you watched the video on the phone,” I said, chagrined.

  “Maybe,” she admitted sheepishly.

  “Leave it orange. It matches the painting perfectly.” I took her hand. “Come on. Let’s finish the tour.”

  “’Kay. You coming, Maggie?” Lilah asked. Booker had already made his way upstairs.

  “No, go ahead. I’m going to test out the recliner couch.” She sat on the couch and raised the footrest.

  Lilah showed me all the new dishes and pots she got for the kitchen, like I’d have a clue how to use them. She showed me the guest bathroom next, with its shaggy brown rug and butter-yellow towels, before we made our way to the bedroom.

  “Since the furniture’s not here yet, you’ll have to imagine, but the walls are painted.”

  She pushed open the door and followed me as I entered. “I think this color will be amazing with the mahogany furniture you picked out.” She ran her hand over a section of the wall.

  “I love it.” I turned to her. “All of it, every room, every decoration. The painting is beautiful, too, although it feels a bit narcissistic to have a painting of me on the wall.”

  She chuckled. “It will look better in your office.”

  “You and Mags did a wonderful job. I can’t wait to see the bedroom furniture in here.”

  “Speaking of bedrooms, Opie,” she wrapped her arms around my waist, “what would your mother say if she knew you were alone in here with a woman?”

  I chuckled, before leaning in to kiss her. I did a pretty good job of it, too, especially for a guy who just had brain surgery.

  “I’ve missed your concentration skills,” she said breathlessly.

  “Me, too.” I took her hand again and we went back into the living room of my home . . . my warm, inviting home.

  Booker invited us all over for a celebratory dinner that evening when he finished sharing with me the progress he’d made upstairs. After dessert, Seth and Maggie left so he could finish his homework. Lilah, knowing I planned on talking to Book about the way he treated her, made an excuse about having to dye her hair and she, too, left. Dye her hair? She doesn’t dye her hair . . . Does she? I walked her out to the car.

  “I wish you’d just let it go. He has gotten better, somewhat. Cole, I don’t want to be the rift between you two,” she said, tugging on my shirt.

  “You won’t be. And I can’t believe you say he’s getting better. He hardly spoke to you tonight. And never once did he pass any food to you.”

  “Baby steps, Cole. Besides, you’re too sweet. Opie doesn’t get upset with people.” I hated how she made me out to be perfect sometimes. I tried pointing out my many flaws to her, and she’d just brush my words aside. If I were a smart man, I’d marry her before she wised up. Let her figure it out after I got the ring on her finger. Note to self: shut up.

  I opened the car door for her. “Wait. You don’t really dye your hair, do you?” I looked at the roots, trying to see if the color were different.

  “Now, Cole, a girl has to have some secrets.” She smiled the smile I loved most. Sweet and playful. She kissed my cheek before driving off. I’d have preferred a kiss on the lips.

  “You still don’t trust her, do you?” I asked Booker as I came back inside. He’d parked him
self on the couch with a bag of potato chips and had turned on a baseball game.

  “Have I not behaved politely all evening to her? Have I not gone out of my way to compliment her about the great job she did on your house? It looks like her, by the way,” he pointed out.

  “Have you not answered my question?” I pressed.

  He dropped his head down. “I’m trying. Really am. I’ll admit after spending this past week around her I’m starting to think that maybe I overreacted to her being Dreser’s daughter, and that maybe, maybe she’s telling the truth,” he said.

  “She is.”

  “I do believe her feelings for you are real. If she’s faking those, she’s an even better actress than I gave her credit for.” Booker pointed the remote at the flat screen TV opposite us and clicked to another baseball game. I hate baseball. “I’d feel better if the information she’d given us was any good.”

  “Nothing’s panned out? What about the drawings?” I shifted on the leather recliner to see his face.

  “We can’t find the supposed clinic in Laraso, Mexico, but like she said, the police force has a reputation for its corruption.” He muted the TV. “The drawings are her word that they are her father, so they don’t hold much weight. And the photos she gave us were too grainy to be of any real help.”

  “I know she’s telling the truth, Booker,” I said firmly.

  “No offense, Opie, but you’re hardly an objective voice in all this.” His hand shot up, stopping my protest. “There have been positives also. She let us bug her phone and her apartment. On the other hand, she could have another phone we don’t know about which she uses to keep her dad abreast of everything.” His face hardened. “And that stupid stunt she pulled disappearing for five hours didn’t bode well for her either.”

  I agreed with him on that. I couldn’t believe she’d do that. “Thanks for helping her with her tire. She told me about it.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. I knew better.

  “Book, you’re like a brother to me, but I’m very much in love with Lilah. I think . . . I know she is a pawn in all this and that she’s doing all she can to help. I want you to back off.” I decided to shoot straight with him. No more Mr. Nice Guy. “If you can’t, I’ll have to ask you to stay out of my life, which is something I don’t want, believe me.” He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped.