The Contract

by Melanie Moreland

  She burrowed down with a contented little sound. “Your bed is comfy.”

  I couldn’t help teasing her. “And my T-shirt?” I asked, fingering the worn cotton. “Is it comfy, too?”

  She brushed my hand away. “I’ve been busy. I hadn’t got around to doing the laundry. It was lying there, so I used it.”

  “I saw how busy you’ve been.”

  “Do you like it?” Her voice was shy and hesitant.

  I dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Good job, Mrs. VanRyan.”

  She giggled into her pillow. “I’m glad you’re pleased, Mr. VanRyan.”

  I tucked her closer. “I am. Go to sleep. I’ll tell you everything in the morning about the trip.”

  “Okay.” She hummed sleepily. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  Katharine stared at me over her coffee and picked up the contract again. “Just like that? He canceled your trial period?”

  I nodded, my mouth full of scrambled eggs. Chewing, I swallowed and grinned. “I have an idea Jenna’s little visit may have had something to do with it.”

  She chewed on the end of her nail, and I reached over, smacking her hand. “Stop that.”

  “Why do you think Jenna being here had anything to do with it?”

  “Think about it, Katharine. Think of what she saw. Us in the same bed, me all over you. We got along well. She even knew we had a fight and made up. I’m pretty sure she told Graham he was wrong to have any doubts.”

  “Makes sense, I suppose.”

  “Plus, he said I’d done a great job—I surpassed expectations. It was his way of rewarding me.” I took a sip of coffee. “Well, the end of my probation, and a generous bonus.”

  Her smile was warm. “I knew you’d blow them away with your work. It doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been brilliant with your ideas.”

  Her praise did strange things to me. I rubbed my chest, as if I could move around the warmth radiated by her words, and I smiled at her, my voice sincere. “You’ve always been supportive. Thank you.”

  The smile she returned was wide and open. I looked down at my plate, as the normalcy of our situation registered. Was this what marriage was like? A real marriage? Small moments of sharing that made you feel whole—connected.

  I dug in my pocket, and slid the small box her way. “For you,” I said gruffly, picking up my mug.

  She made no move to touch it. I had never met a woman like Katharine. My wealth had always been a magnet for the women I dated. They would be all over me for gifts—wanting them, dropping hints, showing me items on the internet. Practically ripping any offering from my hand if I decided to purchase something. Not Katharine, though.

  “Your bonus,” I insisted and nudged the box closer. “Open it. It won’t bite.”

  Her hand shook as she reached for the box. She hesitated once it was in her palm, as if anticipating the moment of opening the lid. Appreciating the mystery. I liked watching her expressions as they flitted across her face.

  Her eyes grew round as she looked at the ring inside. As soon as I saw it, I knew she would love it. Small and delicate, the diamonds were set into different shaped frames. Tiny squares, ovals, circles, and rectangles made up a ring as unique and different as her. It wasn’t the most expensive ring the store had, and certainly not the biggest, but it suited Katharine. Even Graham had nodded his approval the second my finger tapped on the glass case.

  “That one, please. I would like to see that one.”

  Katharine looked up at me. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a gift, Katharine.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “Because you deserve it.” I touched the contract envelope. “None of this would have happened without you. I wanted to say thank you.” I added, completely sincere. It was important she believed me—that she knew I was aware of how much she had done for me.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Put it on.”

  She slid the ring on her right hand and twisted her wrist in the way women did when admiring a ring on their finger. “It fits!”

  Reaching over, I took her hand and studied it. It fit well and it suited her perfectly. I set down her hand on the counter, patting it awkwardly.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s . . .” Her voice was thick. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “I was thinking of earrings, but I noticed Jenna and Laura have rings on their right hands, so I thought you’d like one, too. We could get earrings, if you prefer.”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s perfect.”

  The air around us swirled with emotion. She kept looking at her hand and blinking fast. Oh God—was she going to cry? Over a present? I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle it if she started crying. Emotion like that made me extremely edgy.

  I clapped my hands. “Good choice, then. I’ll save the earrings for another time. Maybe a six-month anniversary or something. I’m sure the Gavins celebrate milestones like those. I’ll have to keep up.”

  She cleared her throat and slid off her stool. “I guess so.”

  I was shocked when she stopped by my chair after dumping her coffee in the sink. She cupped my cheek and pressed her lips to it, lightly. “Thank you, Richard,” she murmured, then kept walking.

  I turned in my chair to watch her climb the steps. It was only when I shifted back that I realized my hand covered my face where her lips had touched, as if I was holding her kiss to my skin.

  How odd.

  RICHARD

  I GLANCED OVER AT PENNY with a frown. I had been excited the same jazz trio we’d seen before was doing an encore performance this evening, but she’d been off the entire night. More than once, she had lifted her hand, wiping away a tear as it rolled down her cheek. When I asked, concerned, if she was all right, she waved me away with an impatient hand.

  “I’m fine.”

  Yet, she seemed to be anything except fine.

  I wheeled her back to her room, hoping the treat I had waiting would pick up her spirits.

  Katharine mentioned Penny wasn’t eating well the past couple days and seemed tired. Tonight, her caregiver told me she picked at her dinner and had only eaten lunch because Katharine fed it to her.

  I knew Katharine was worried. She had considered canceling her yoga class, but I encouraged her to go. I reminded her only two classes remained, then she could join us every Tuesday. I would miss my time with Penny, but the classes started again a month later, so it would be back to us at that point. My favorite part of the night was listening to Penny tell stories of Katharine. There were so many—some Katharine herself had undoubtedly forgotten. They often contained humorous, embarrassing moments that made me chuckle.

  I sat beside Penny, sliding the pizza box open with a smile. “Voila!”

  When I discovered, next to cheeseburgers, pizza was her favorite food, I started bringing it to her regularly. It was fine with the home, and I made sure I had plenty for the staff on occasion. One day I brought enough pizza so any resident who wanted some could enjoy it. I was a hero that day.

  Today, however, it was only for Penny.

  She took a slice yet made no move to eat it. With a sigh, I took her slice back and returned it to the box. I wrapped my hand around her fragile wrist, rubbing the delicate skin of her palm.

  “Penny, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  She heaved a deep exhale of air, the sound drained and resigned. “I’m tired.”

  “You want me to get Connie? She can get you ready for bed.” Tami was off tonight, but she liked Connie.

  “No. I don’t want to go to bed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Withdrawing her hand, she rubbed it over her face in a weary manner. “I’m tired of all this.”

  “Your room?” If she wanted a different one, I’d get it for her.

  “Of being here. In this . . . life, if you can call it that.”

  I had never heard her talk this way. “Penny—”

/>   She reached out and wrapped her hand around mine.

  “I forget things, Richard. Time goes on and I don’t know if it’s the same day that it was only a moment ago. Katy comes to visit and I can’t remember if she was here hours ago, days ago, or if she just left the room for a minute. Some days, I don’t recognize anything, and I’m scared. I know there are days I don’t know her.” Her voice shook, eyes glimmering with tears. “I don’t know myself most days.”

  “She’s here. Every day, she comes to see you, and even if you forget her, she knows you. She stays and sits with you.”

  “I’m a burden to her.”

  “No,” I insisted. “You aren’t a burden to her. She loves you.”

  “You must resent me.”

  “What? No. Not at all. I love spending time with you. You’re part of my family now, Penny. You became that when I married Katharine.” As the words left my mouth, I realized I was telling her the truth.

  “She should be doing other things, traveling, having babies, making friends, not babysitting an old woman.”

  “Why are you talking like this? You know Katharine would do anything for you. So would I.” I lifted her hand up and pressed a kiss to the thin skin. “Please, Penny, if she heard you . . .”

  “I miss Burt.”

  “I know,” I soothed. “You were married a long time. Of course, you miss him.”

  “Forty years. We weren’t rich, but we had love.” She smiled softly. “I loved watching him cook. He was a chef—did you know that?”

  “Yes, you told me.”

  “I was a teacher. We had a good life. When he died, I didn’t know how I was going to carry on. But then, I found Katy. She became my reason.”

  “She needed you.”

  “She doesn’t need me anymore.”

  “You’re wrong. She does.”

  “Will you look after her?”

  “Don’t. Don’t give in yet, Penny. Katharine—she’d be devastated.”

  She shut her eyes as her shoulders sagged. “I’m just so tired.”

  I panicked when I realized she wasn’t referring to wanting to go to bed. She was tired of life and being trapped in a body that no longer worked, with a mind that left her confused and forgetful.

  I bent close, lowering my voice. “I’ll look after her. I promise. She won’t want for anything.” I could promise her that. I would make sure Katharine was all right. “Don’t give up. She does need you.”

  Her eyes opened, her gaze drifting past me. “Can you give me that picture?”

  I turned and handed her the picture to which she pointed. After coming clean about being married, Katharine brought her a picture of us on our wedding day, and one Tami had snapped when we were visiting. Katharine was holding her hand, Penny was tweaking her nose and laughing, and I sat beside them, smiling. We looked like a family.

  She traced our faces. “She’s been my life since I lost Burt.”

  “I know.”

  “She is everything I knew she would be—smart, loving, strong.”

  “I agree. Beautiful, too. Tough as nails. You had a lot to do with that, Penny.”

  That made her smile. The first real one I’d seen tonight.

  She stretched up and patted my cheek. “You’re a good boy.”

  Those words made me chuckle. No one had ever said them to me.

  “When you get older, Richard, you realize life is made up of moments. All sorts of them. Sad ones, good ones, and great ones. They make up the tapestry that is your life. Hold on to all of them—especially the great ones. They make the others easy to take.”

  I covered her hand with mine. “Stay,” I urged. “For her. Give her more great moments, Penny.”

  With a sigh, she nodded. “I want to go to bed now.”

  Turning my face, I kissed her palm. “I’ll get Connie.”

  She met my eyes, a fierce gaze that trapped and held mine. “Love, Richard. Make sure you surround her with love.”

  I could only nod.

  She tweaked my nose. That was what she did to Katharine—her way of saying, “I love you.”

  My eyes stung all the way to the desk to get Connie.

  My phone vibrated on the wooden table and I picked it up, stifling a grin at the number. Golden Oaks. I wondered what Penny was asking Tami for now. Since our unsettling evening last week, she had wanted something daily, and I made sure she got it. I never told Katharine about our conversation. She was already plenty worried. Penny was obviously slowing down, and her mind giving out more often. She had been more like herself last night, but had fallen asleep as soon as I got her back to her room. I left her in her caregiver’s capable hands with a kiss on her downy cheek.

  I declined the call, planning to return it when the meeting was over. I focused my attention back to Graham, who was pointing out a client’s desires for their next campaign, when my phone went off again. Glancing over, I saw it was Golden Oaks. A small pit of worry began in my stomach. Tami knew I would call her back. Why was she being so insistent?

  I glanced up at Graham, who had paused his speaking.

  “Do you need to take that, Richard?”

  “I think it may be important.”

  He nodded. “Five minute break, everyone.”

  I accepted the call. “Tami?”

  “Mr. VanRyan, I’m sorry to interrupt.” Her voice sent ripples of anxiety down my back. “I have some terrible news.”

  I had no recollection of standing, but suddenly I was on my feet. “What happened?”

  “Penny Johnson passed away about an hour ago.”

  I shut my eyes against the sudden burn. I gripped my phone tighter, my voice thick. “Has my wife been told?”

  “Yes. She was here this morning, and had only left a short time before I went in to check on Penny. I called her back.”

  “Is she there now?”

  “Yes. I tried to ask her about arrangements, but I can’t get her to talk. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I called you.”

  “No, you did the right thing. I’m on my way. Don’t let her leave, Tami. I’ll handle all the arrangements.”

  I hung up, dropping my phone, the sound of it hitting the table, a dull thud breaking the roar in my head. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into Graham’s concerned face.

  “Richard, I’m sorry.”

  “I have to . . .” My voice trailed off.

  “Let me drive you.”

  I felt odd. Off balance. My mind was chaotic, my stomach in knots, and my eyes burned. One thought clarified, her name burning in my brain. “Katharine.”

  “She needs you. I’ll take you to her.”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  At the home, I didn’t hesitate, rushing through the hallways. I saw Tami outside Penny’s room, the door closed.

  “Is she in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you need?”

  “I need to know if there was anything arranged, pre-planning, what her wishes were for when she passed?”

  “I know she wanted to be cremated. I don’t think Katharine had made any pre-arrangements.” I ran my hand over the back of my neck. “I have no experience with this, Tami.”

  Graham’s voice came from behind me. “Let me help, Richard.”

  I turned in surprise. I thought he had dropped me off and left.

  He extended his hand to Tami, introducing himself. She smiled in acknowledgement. He turned back to me.

  “Go to your wife. I have a good friend who has a string of funeral homes. I’ll contact him and start things for you—Tami can advise me.”

  She nodded. “Of course.” She laid her hand on my arm. “When you’re ready, I’ll get Joey and take him to the lounge. He is staying here with us.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll help Mr. Gavin as best I can.”

  “I’d appreciate it—so will Katy.”

  Graham smiled. “So rarely you call her that. Go—she needs you.”

  I slipped i
nto the room, quietly pushing the door shut. The room seemed so wrong. There was no music, no Penny sitting at one of her canvasses, humming away. Even Joey was silent, huddled on his perch, his head buried in his wing. The curtains were drawn, the room dimmed in sadness.

  Katharine was a huddled figure sitting beside Penny’s bed, holding her hand. I moved beside her, allowing myself a moment to gaze down at the woman who had changed my life. Penny looked as if she was asleep, her face peaceful. She would no longer be confused or agitated, no longer searching for something she couldn’t remember.

  No longer able to tell me stories of the woman who was now grieving for her.

  I lowered myself beside my wife, covering the hand clutching Penny’s with mine. “Katharine,” I murmured.

  She didn’t move. She remained frozen, her face blank, not speaking.

  I slid my arm around her stiff shoulders, bringing her close. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you loved her.”

  “I just left,” she whispered. “I was halfway home, and they called. I shouldn’t have left.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “She said she was tired and wanted to rest. She didn’t want to paint. She asked me to turn off the music. I should have known something was wrong,” she insisted.

  “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “I should have been with her when she—”

  “You were with her. You know how she felt about this, sweetheart. She said it all the time—when she was ready, she was going. You were here, the person she loved the most—the person she would want to be the last one she saw, and she was ready.” I ran my hand over her hair. “She’s been ready for a while, baby. I think she was waiting to make sure you were going to be okay.”

  “I didn’t say goodbye.”

  I tugged her head to my shoulder. “Did you kiss her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she tweak your nose?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you said goodbye. That’s how you two did it. You didn’t need words, any more than you had to tell her you loved her. She knew, sweetheart. She always knew.”

  “I don’t . . . I don’t know what to do now.”