In Service of Love

by Laurel Greer

  He wasn’t going to begrudge Ruth her moment of wishing for her grandmother. Hell, a bowl of his mom’s miso matzo ball soup sounded exactly right.

  His stomach churned at the thought.

  Okay, correct that. It would be the perfect remedy in another day or so when he was able to smell food without gagging.

  “You want to give Grandma a call, honey?”

  She nodded.

  After unlocking his cell with a weak press of his pointer finger to the sensor, he handed her the device. “Help yourself.”

  Ruth took the phone, and a short time later was chattering happily to her grandmother. Dramatically recounting their bout with illness, more accurately. Great, his mother was going to worry that he’d was on death’s door by the way Ruth was describing his symptoms.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” he called feebly.

  “He’s gray, Grandma.” Ruth wandered out of the living room and in the direction of the kitchen, Jackson on her heels.

  “You’re way too cheerful about my suffering, Ruth.”

  She paused in the kitchen doorway and turned to him. “You’ll be okay in a couple of days, Dad. I’m fine now.”

  He should be counting his blessings, really, that she was being so relaxed about him being sick. The last time Ruth had seen a parent stricken with nausea, it had been Alex during chemotherapy treatment.

  “I don’t know where Uncle Caleb is.” Ruth cocked her head, clearly listening to something his mom was saying. “No, Dad’s girlfriend is coming over.”

  Oh, hell. He held out his hand. “Ruth, let me talk to Grandma.”

  “He wants to talk to you,” Ruth relayed. A long silence followed. “Okay, bye!”

  He lifted a brow at his daughter. No way had Ruth’s use of girlfriend not aroused his mom’s curiosity. She must have decided to take pity on his flu-ridden self. “She didn’t want to say hello to me?”

  “She says she’ll call you when you’re better. That she loves you, and is proud of you, whatever that means,” Ruth passed along. “And you need fluids, and to use bleach spray on anything we’ve touched.”

  “Of course. Priority, germ eradication.” As soon as he could summon the energy to stumble to the kitchen, he’d get right on that.

  Chapter Eleven

  Maggie showed up on Asher’s doorstep about twenty minutes after they hung up, with all the supplies necessary to clean away flu funk. She couldn’t say that playing nursemaid was a role she’d expected to take on this early in a relationship, but it felt surprisingly comfortable.

  She’d been worrying about Ruth’s health for days, and when she’d heard Asher sounding like he’d been run over by a truck, all she’d wanted to do was make it better. She’d provide as much comfort as she could, and would sanitize the heck out of his house—that part came with the veterinarian job description. Yeah, she had a cleaning staff at her clinic, but back when she’d been a teenager and her grandfather was the animal doctor, she’d earned her time with the animals by mopping floors and disinfecting instruments. And if Asher had been up all night, he wouldn’t be up for scrubbing toilets and faucets.

  She knocked on the door, ever aware that Jackson might react to a doorbell.

  Ruth answered, sporting a Wonder Woman nightie and some major bedhead. She looked none the worse for wear after her own bout with sickness.

  “You have your color back,” Maggie said, chest filling with relief. The urge to wrap Ruth in a hug came over, but she wouldn’t push. “Which means that after we do a little maintenance work, we can hit the town. As long as it’s okay with your dad.”

  “He’s sleeping.” Ruth stepped to the side, eyeing the bucket. “We have cleaning stuff, you know.”

  Maggie smiled and made her way into the ground floor hallway, which ran down to what looked like a laundry room and the entrance to the garage. Stairs climbed to the living space. She toed out of her laceless sneakers, leaving them next to a shelf filled with Asher’s funky collection of brogues and boots, and Ruth’s sparkly sneakers.

  “I figured you’d have something,” Maggie said. “But this way, I knew what I was working with.”

  Ruth’s face was a little thundercloud. “I told my dad I could clean and that I’d make him soup.”

  Maggie’s throat tightened. Crud, she did not like that frown. “That all sounds great. You can for sure do that. But like my grandmother said, many hands make light work.”

  “My grandma says that, too,” Ruth grumbled. She stomped up the stairs, disappearing into the gap at the top. Jackson sat on the landing, head turning between Maggie and his new, pint-size master.

  “Go on, buddy. Go to Ruth.”

  Maybe if Maggie couldn’t soothe Ruth, the dog could.

  He ahrooed at the command before tearing after the girl, a gangly mass of long limbs. The footsteps of both dog and girl sounded on the second staircase overhead, to what had to be a third floor, probably where the bedrooms were.

  Maggie took a breath, contemplating the lack of welcome from Ruth. The kid was less than impressed about her impromptu babysitter. Maggie would have to sweeten the pot somehow. Crumb cake. She’d really hoped Ruth would be more receptive now that she was feeling better. What if she never accepted Maggie? The thought of not being with Asher because Ruth wasn’t ready... She didn’t even want to go there. She headed for the second level. When she reached the landing, Ruth was nowhere to be seen. She pressed her lips together and tried to breathe away the fear piling in her chest—what could she do to put Ruth at ease?

  Leaving her bucket on the floor, she looked around. A living area graced the left of the long, narrow space. A rustic dining set provided a transition in the middle, and the kitchen wrapped around the right end, centered by a granite-topped island. The place was decorated in a spare, mismatched way. Cute, though. Homey touches in the artwork and the collection of guitars on stands in the corner. Some pillows and blankets on the couch, most of which was taken up by a built, exceedingly male body.

  Oof. His olive skin tone had paled to a greenish gray. Some of that soup Ruth mentioned might do him some good, if he could stomach it. Probably needed the rest more, though.

  With him looking so darn ill, it made it easier to ignore the muscles of his legs, only covered by plaid boxers, and how his well-worn T-shirt molded to his pecs.

  Easier. Not easy.

  Resisting the desire to go to sit with his head in her lap in a vain attempt to soothe his misery, she pulled a velour blanket over his legs and went to work on cleaning the kitchen. She couldn’t do anything to speed up his recovery, but she could at least make sure he didn’t have a ton of house maintenance to catch up on. And once Ruth had warmed up to the idea of having Maggie around for the day, Maggie could entertain her, too.

  If she warms up at all.

  Ruth thumped down the stairs right as Maggie was wiping down the counter in the powder room off the living area. The girl had changed into a sweater, skirt and tights. Her hair was combed down around her face, and she held out an elastic and a brush. “Can you do unicorn tails?”

  Maggie froze. “Uh, unicorn tails?”

  Ruth sighed. “That’s what Dad calls ponytails.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She hadn’t styled much straight hair in her life, but it couldn’t be that challenging. She took the brush and elastic and stood at Ruth’s back, gathering and smoothing the long, dark strands. She laughed as she kept losing her grip. “Your hair is so much slipperier than mine.”

  “I wish I had curly hair,” Ruth lamented. “Mine doesn’t look like my dad’s or bio mom’s at all.”

  “It’s lovely. And being so long, I bet there are all sorts of YouTube tutorials for braids and stuff that wouldn’t work with curly hair.”

  Ruth paused, expression hopeful. “Would you do one for me?”

  A thrill of victory ran through Maggie. Hairdos weren�
�t something you shared with just anyone. Maybe she was making some progress, after all. “Yeah, sure. We can find one on my phone.”

  They spent a few minutes searching for a style that piqued Ruth’s interest, and then relocated to the kitchen table for the actual styling. It meant being quiet so as not to wake Asher, but that was okay. Maggie would rather Ruth not feel like she had to make conversation. It was better to have it come naturally.

  After Maggie wrestled Ruth’s hair into a passable interpretation of the half-up braid-and-twist combo, the girl ran upstairs to inspect it in the mirror. Maggie followed, bringing her bucket and spray with her. Asher’s bedroom was up here, and she was dying to take a peek. He’d seen how she decorated her personal domain, after all. But would he want her in his space? She’d start with the main bathroom, and get a read off Ruth as to how private he’d be.

  “More cleaning?” Ruth asked warily, watching Maggie arm herself with gloves and disinfectant. Jackson stood at the doorway, and flopped to the ground in the hall when Maggie signaled him with a hand.

  She cleared a Princess Leia cup holding a purple toothbrush to the side. “All right, Ruth.” She handed over extra gloves and a rag. “Has your dad ever conscripted you for disinfectant duty?”

  Ruth put the gloves on. They looked comical, stretching up to her elbows, plastic sausage fingers clutching the cloth Maggie had rooted out of a cupboard. But her pulled-together brows were the opposite of humorous. “My dads.”

  Maggie didn’t want to read the inflection the wrong way. But she also didn’t want Ruth to think she wasn’t fully aware of Asher’s marriage, that she was willfully ignoring it or anything. “Yes. ‘Dads.’ That’s important. You call Asher ‘Dad’—remind me of your name for Alex?”

  Ruth’s concern shifted to solemnity. “Papa.”

  “Cool. And what was he like? I mean, if you want to tell me about him. No pressure.” Maggie started spraying door handles and the toilet, pretending to look casual so that Ruth would relax.

  “He loved animals like you do.” Ruth followed behind her, polishing the door handles with precise little swipes. “He always wanted a dog, but he and Dad decided one wouldn’t fit in our apartment.” Her lip wobbled. “I wish he could meet Jackson.”

  “Jackson’s pretty special. And I bet your Papa was, too.”

  Ruth nodded. “Can I have the spray?”

  Maggie handed it over, starting on the toilet while the girl decked the sink with disinfectant. “Did he have a favorite animal?”

  “Cats. Maybe.” Her face crumpled. “I don’t know.”

  Way to go, Maggie, reminding the kid that her knowledge of her father is incomplete. Her heart clenched. Memory was so finite. And fragile. “That’s okay. I’m sure your dad knows.”

  “Yeah, probably.” Ruth sucked in a breath, making her nostrils flare. “I could ask. When he wakes up.”

  Which didn’t happen for a while. She and Ruth managed to finish the cleaning, get into a serious analysis of Ruth’s collection of dragon and unicorn figurines and even take Jackson for a walk, all while Asher sawed logs on the couch.

  “So, what did you mean when you said we’d hit the town?” Ruth whispered, standing next to Maggie as they hovered in the kitchen.

  “I thought we’d find lunch somewhere. And then we could try out the ski simulators at the health center.”

  Ruth’s face lit up. “That would be awesome!” Asher stirred, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, Dad.”

  “S’okay,” he grumbled.

  “Asher, mind if I take Ruth for lunch and to the gym?” Maggie asked.

  His eyes stayed shut and he covered his face with his palm. “Mmph, sure.”

  “We’re on,” Maggie said, holding her hand up for a high five.

  Ruth jumped up and slapped palms.

  Maggie smiled to herself. Maybe she knew what she was doing after all.

  An hour later, Ruth was grinning wide enough to boost Maggie’s confidence all the more.

  “This is so much fun!” Ruth gripped the arched bar on the front of the ski training machine with both hands. Her feet were encased in ski boots, attached to the bindings of the simulator. She swooshed from side to side, mimicking the motion of downhill turns. The hairstyle Maggie had worked to perfect was starting to fall from the elastics.

  “You’ve really got the hang of it,” Maggie called over from her own machine. Sweat dotted her forehead. Yikes, this was a good workout. “You’re gonna be dynamite on actual skis.”

  “I so am!” Ruth exclaimed, grinning wide enough to compete with the overhead lighting of the gym’s ski-training room. Six machines populated the space, as well as free weights and other equipment.

  Maggie chuckled and turned to Garnet, who stood next to Maggie’s machine. “Thanks for arranging this.”

  Garnet operated her part-time acupressure business out of Evolve Wellness and had arranged for Ruth and Maggie to use the training area. She’d snagged a pair of boots in Ruth’s size from the mountain’s rental shop, too. “Of course. She’s going to officially be my niece soon.” Garnet lowered her voice. “And maybe something more for you.”

  Maggie’s heart lurched into her throat. “Garnet.”

  Her friend regarded her, freckled face all innocent and in complete opposition to her pot-stirring. “What?”

  “I don’t know what’s happening with—”

  “Of course you don’t.” Garnet shrugged and leaned against one of the other ski simulators. Given she was on the premises to see clients in an hour, not to work out, she wore leggings and a long, turquoise T-shirt. Her red curls were pinned up in a complicated yet messy style. “No one knows anything, Maggie. There are no guarantees.”

  Maggie paused in swinging from side to side. “Are you and Emma in cahoots or something?”

  Garnet shook her head. “No, I’m saying that I’ve had my own rigid thinking about love and relationships. And when I met Caleb, I learned that keeping an open mind is a good thing. The frameworks we create to protect ourselves can be important through certain stages in our lives, but sometimes we outgrow them.”

  “Is it even possible to outgrow bad parenting?” Maggie blurted. Ruth perked up and looked in Maggie’s direction. Oops. This was not a conversation to have around ten-year-old ears. Maggie raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, silently trying to get that across to Garnet.

  Garnet nodded her understanding. “We’re not done with this, though.”

  “Oh, really? Since when are you the emperor of relationships?”

  “Since I fell in love with a Matsuda,” Garnet whispered. “I highly recommend it.”

  * * *

  “Hey, sleeping beauty.” Asher heard Maggie’s voice filter through his dozy state. Something cold swabbed his forehead—a cloth?

  And then there was warmth against his cheek. Her palm. He let his head loll into her cupped fingers. “You shouldn’t touch me,” he warned. “You don’t want to catch this.”

  “I’ll wash my hands. Plus, I sanitized your kitchen and bathrooms.”

  “You were talking to my mom, weren’t you?”

  “No, to Ruth, who passed on the message from your mother. I showed her all sorts of things about de-germing. And then we took Jackson for a walk. And she seemed to really like the ski simulator.”

  He opened his eyes, soaked in the sight of Maggie kneeling on the floor beside the couch. Hair pinned up in segments, tight at the front and a halo in back. The rich brown of her eyes caught the sun from the living room window. He blinked at the brightness. If the sun was coming in at this angle, he’d been sleeping for... Three hours? Four? “Holy crap, Maggie, I’m so sorry. You didn’t need to step in like that. I could have woken up and done my dad duties.”

  “Asher Matsuda, if you so much as move from this couch today, other than to use the washroom, I will actual
ly call your mom and rat you out.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  She laughed. “No, but I bet Ruth would.”

  “Truth.” He groaned.

  “Ruth ate, in case you were wondering. I grabbed her a grilled cheese for lunch, and she finished most of it, but she was feeling pretty bagged once she was done at the gym. I hope I didn’t wear her out too badly.”

  “If she was willing to go, it meant she had the energy. I, meanwhile, can barely make it off the couch.”

  “You are looking a little rough. Pretty as always, but ailing.” She brushed his hair back from his face. With a gentle hand, she massaged his scalp, pausing every once in a while to finger-comb a tangle.

  “I lay down with wet hair,” he explained. Now that he’d slept, he felt just human enough to want to look somewhat presentable.

  “I figured you wouldn’t be your usual natty self.” She lifted a corner of her mouth. “You have a bad bug.”

  “Not surprising I caught it after holding Ruth’s hair back for two days while she threw up. And like I said, you really shouldn’t be here.”

  “Someone needs to be.”

  Alex. Grief pulsed in his chest, brief but strong. But a chuckle broke the sadness. For all that Alex had been a tenacious patient, he’d lacked nursing skills. Any time Ruth had been sick, Alex had let Asher take the lead. And when Asher had been the one down for the count, fat chance of getting a cold compress.

  Maggie cocked her head and paused her massage. “Something funny?”

  “Yeah, how much Alex hated being around sick people. He forced it for Ruth’s sake, occasionally for mine, but his bedside manner was not his strong suit.”

  She stared at Asher, eyes full of questions.

  “What’s putting that look on your face? You can say it,” he said.

  After a long breath, she said, “Must have made it extra hard for him to be the sick person.”