Chapter Twenty-Three

Gabby

Swan View Pond Adult Living Center

“IT’S COLIC, GABBY. A lot of babies suffer it.” Mrs. Armstrong held out her hands. “Let me see if I can get up some burps.”

Gabby placed the baby in the old woman’s arms. She watched closely because Mrs. Armstrong had grown weaker during the past month. She didn’t tell the old woman what the doctor had told her about colic. Mrs. Armstrong wouldn’t want to hear that. She believed, after having five of her own, she was an expert on babies.

And Ceebee did seem comforted when Mrs. Armstrong held her. Maybe the baby understood that holding her was a thrill Mrs. Armstrong looked forward to every day. Ceebee seemed to adore everyone, and the residents vied with each other to witness a first. There had been a debate for several days over which one had seen Ceebee’s first smile. Gabby had stepped in to remind them that every smile was special, so why did it matter? She didn’t add that Ceebee’s first true smile had been at home.

Mrs. Armstrong looked past Gabby and called, “Lorna, come and see this adorable baby. Look! I’ve gotten her to sleep.”

Gabby frowned. Mrs. Armstrong shouldn’t be baiting Mrs. Lucas, who remained as far away from Ceebee as possible. She wasn’t shocked when Mrs. Lucas did the quickest possible about-face with her wheelchair.

“That wasn’t very kind,” Gabby chided Mrs. Armstrong.

“Oh, pooh! She needs to get off her high horse and join the human race.”

“Mrs. Armstrong!”

The old woman’s shoulders sagged with a sigh. “You’re right, Gabby. I let my irritation with her make me forget my manners. I should apologize to her.”

Gabby scooped the sleeping baby out of Mrs. Armstrong’s arms. “There’s no time like the present.”

“Afraid I’ll drop dead before I get around to apologizing to her?”

“The idea did cross my mind, because I know you could come up with enough ways to avoid apologizing to her to fill the next twenty years.”

Mrs. Armstrong laughed. “Heaven forbid I’m anchored to Earth for another twenty years.”

As the old woman went in the same direction Mrs. Lucas had fled in her wheelchair, Gabby wondered if Mrs. Armstrong would truly apologize. She’d heard that Mrs. Lucas had done something to vex Mrs. Armstrong shortly before Gabby came to work at Swan View, and both women were uncharacteristically tightlipped about whatever it’d been. No one else spoke of it either. Gabby guessed nobody else knew, because otherwise it would have been gossiped about for weeks.

Ceebee made some soft sounds in her sleep. Gabby looked down at the baby. What was it about Ceebee that made Mrs. Lucas take off like a moonshiner with a revenuer on his trail? There had to be an answer. Asking had gotten her nowhere.

She glanced at the door to Mrs. R’s office. In there were family history files and emergency files on each resident. Gabby could have access to them, but she was supposed to request permission and explain the exact reason she needed to see the information. Mrs. R took privacy laws very seriously and expected everyone on her staff to do the same. As she’d explained—frequently—it was vital to respect the privacy of a group of people who lived in such close proximity.

If she’d asked, Mrs. R might have told her to go ahead and check Mrs. Lucas’s file. Then, again, maybe she wouldn’t have. Gabby couldn’t take that risk, not when she had so many questions and no answers.

She walked to the door and knocked.

No answer.

Opening the door, she peeked in and said, “Hello?”

No answer.

With a smile, she edged into the room and left the door slightly ajar behind her. Mrs. R always talked to the residents as she walked around the hallways. Gabby would listen for her voice and have time to get any files back in place before Mrs. R walked in. If Gabby was caught in here, she could say she’d come in looking for Mrs. R.

Oh, how she hated lying and liars. Lies complicated everything. But she needed to know what was in Mrs. Lucas’s personal files. If Mrs. R came in, Gabby could tell her that, and it wouldn’t be a lie.

Holding Ceebee and opening the file drawer wasn’t simple, but she handled it with more ease than she could have right after the baby’s arrival. She fingered through the files. Drawing out the one she wanted, she opened it on the desk. Glancing at the door, she paged through it to the family history page. She scanned down it only partway before something caught her eyes.

Children: One daughter, died at ten months. No other children.

Gabby sighed as she closed the folder. Mrs. Lucas’s baby had died when she was less than a year old. That single line revealed so much. Why Mrs. Lucas always avoided babies when they came into the assisted living facility, why she looked as if she were going to weep whenever Ceebee was near, and why she hurried away if anyone brought the baby toward her.

Putting the file away, she slipped out of Mrs. R’s office and walked along the hallway to her own. She needed to give this information some thought.

GABBY WAS PUTTING the final frosting on the cake when she heard Mike’s footsteps coming up the stairs. It wasn’t a fancy cake with writing or roses, and the top layer threatened to slide off at any second. She hoped she’d put enough frosting around it to keep it in place until Mike had a chance to blow out his candles.

Wiping her hands on her sticky apron, she put the cake in the refrigerator. She went to the door and threw it open. “Why don’t you come in, birthday boy?”

He turned to face her, and she saw him hesitate. Hesitate? Why wasn’t he just answering her? Or, more important, giving her a chance to give him a birthday kiss... or a lot of birthday kisses?

“I won’t spank you,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Unless you want me to.”

His smile was barely there.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Long day. If you don’t mind us postponing... Oh, you’ve made a cake.”

She held up her hands that were green with frosting. “I wanted the cake to be a surprise, but I didn’t have time to clean up. Be nice when I serve it and say it’s the most wonderful cake you’ve ever had.”

He gave her a half-smile, a big improvement over the grimace he’d been wearing. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It’s your birthday.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her. He clamped his mouth over hers. His intensity shocked her. Drawing back, she again asked him what was wrong.

“You talking instead of kissing me,” he growled and recaptured her mouth.

She couldn’t touch him because of the icing on her hands. He must have realized that because he pushed her back into her apartment and against the foyer wall, pinning her there with his hard body as he kissed her with an odd fervor.

“No dessert before supper,” she chided with an unsteady laugh.

Gabby wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed when he stepped away from her. His odd behavior unnerved her, because she could sense that something was bothering him.

As she went into the kitchen, she asked, struggling to sound nonchalant, “How’s work? You said it’d been a long day”

“So far the cells are doing what they’re supposed to do,” he answered as he leaned his hands on the counter. “In a few weeks, I should know if my hypothesis is valid or if it’s all been a waste of time.”

“You don’t sound too hopeful.”

“Actually I am now that everything is back on track.”

“Then what’s wrong?” she asked as she washed her hands. “It’s your birthday, for heaven’s sake. You should be celebrating, not wandering around looking as if you should be carrying a sign saying ‘The End is Near’.”

He made a frightful face with a wide smile. “Better?”

“Of those two choices, I like your glum expression better.” She opened the oven door and drew out the roast chicken. The aroma of sage and parsley flooded the room.

“Can I help you?”

“No. It’s your birthday, so you should be waited on tonight.” She smiled. “Don’t get too used to it. After playing body-servant to a baby all day, I don’t want to worry about anyone but myself.”

“Where’s Ceebee?”

“Mr. Shepard is watching her this evening.”

“Is that so?” A hint of the flame she’d seen in his eyes before returned, but it was muted like everything else about him tonight.

Why wasn’t he telling her what was bothering him? She’d given him enough chances. She wanted to ask him that, but something held her back. The peculiar desperation that had been in his kiss? The strange closed-up feeling she got from him as if he were trying to rebuild the wall between them?

“Yes,” she said, chickening out from pressing the issue, “I figured I’d follow Hank’s suggestion and give us some time off.”

“Doctor’s orders.”

She smiled. “Exactly, and now we’ll be able to enjoy supper without being interrupted. That’ll be a nice change.”

He toyed with a spot of frosting on the counter, swirling it in an aimless pattern. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more lately to help with the baby, Gabby.”

“I know you’re up to your ears in work right now.” She poured the drippings into a pan and began to make the thickening for gravy.

“I am.” His eyes dimmed again as if he were looking inward at some dark thoughts.

“Would it help if I told you what went wrong with my day?” she asked.

“What went wrong with your day?”

While Gabby drained the potatoes and mashed them, she explained about Mrs. Lucas and her own curiosity that had led her to sneaking into her boss’s office and looking at the woman’s personal file. She finished the story at the same time the gravy was ready.

“What do you suggest I do?” she asked while she put the potatoes and gravy and chicken on the counter. “Mrs. Armstrong is constantly asking why Mrs. Lucas doesn’t want to hold Ceebee. I don’t want to embarrass either of them, and I shouldn’t even have the information.”

“Sometimes having information can be more trouble than it’s worth.”

She untied her apron and tossed it over the side of the sink. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing much.” He looked away, and she knew he was evading telling her again about what was upsetting him. “Didn’t you see the article on information overload in the newspaper the other day?”

“I don’t have time to read the paper now.”

“I don’t usually have much time, but I did this afternoon while I waited for the bigwigs to make their tour of the lab.”

Gabby closed her lips to keep in the questions she wanted to ask. Motioning for him to serve himself while she opened a bottle of wine, she wondered if that tour was what had Mike upset. She didn’t say anything when he put only a token amount of food on his plate. His enthusiastic answer when she asked him if he wanted wine was another sign that he was on edge.

She somehow managed to keep the conversation from fading into silence while they ate. More than once, she thought Mike was about to say something important. He’d look at her, then lower his eyes and shut his mouth.

Guilt.

He was the image of guilt.

Again she halted her questions, not wanting to make him feel like she was interrogating him on his birthday. She struggled to keep smiling and talked about comical happenings at work.

He replied in monosyllables or not at all.

As soon as she was finished, she picked up her plate. He handed her his, even though he hadn’t done much more than move the food around as he had the frosting on the counter.

“Cake?” she asked with a smile that was feeling more and more fake.

“Sure.”

She carried the dishes into the kitchen. Her frustration begged her to throw them against the cupboards. She didn’t. Not only were they her best plates, but she’d have to clean up the mess afterward. So she set the dishes in the sink and took out the cake.

It looked even worse than she remembered. The top layer was sliding almost to the plate on the left side. She took five striped candles out of a box and lit them. She’d realized she didn’t know how old Mike was going to be on this birthday. Five candles seemed like a nice amount. Not too much fire, but still enough light to take attention away from the cake.

Singing “Happy Birthday,” she walked into the living room. She was shocked when he wasn’t there. Then she heard a board creak and turned to see him by the door to the nursery. He was staring inside, his face drawn with strong emotions.

He must have sensed her looking at him, baffled, because he turned around and smiled. It looked as feigned a smile as her own.

“Come and make a wish and blow out your candles,” she said as she set the cake on the table.

He walked over. Bending down, he puffed out the candles.

“What did you wish?” she asked. “Or are you one of those who believes that a wish has to be a secret for it to come true?”

“Wow, that’s some cake,” he said instead of answering her questions. He sat on the sofa again.

“It took me hours to arrange it to look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. As my sister always says, it’ll taste better than it looks.” She forced a laugh. “It’s got to.” Cutting him a piece, she handed it to him and leaned in to give him a kiss.

She was astounded anew when he turned so she kissed his cheek instead of his lips. Pain thudded through her. The last time she’d seen a man act like this was when her soon-to-be ex-fiancé said he needed some time to think things over and he’d get back to her. That’d been five years ago, and she’d long ago given up any expectation that he’d call.

Was that what bothered Mike tonight? He wanted to break up with her? They weren’t even really going together. She hadn’t seen him much since they’d taken Ceebee in for her doctor’s visit. Maybe he’d been trying to make it easy on her... until she’d waylaid him in the hallway and offered to help him celebrate his birthday.

As she sat on the couch, she left a full cushion between them. She didn’t take a piece of cake for herself. Instead, she drew her legs up beneath her and faced him.

He took a bite of the cake, smiled briefly, then set the plate on the table. “Aren’t you going to have some, Gabby? It really is very good.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I understand.”

“You do?” Her voice rose even though she tried to curb her raw emotions. “I don’t understand anything about you tonight. You’re acting like a beaten dog, but you won’t explain why. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing I can talk about right now, Gabby.”

“I told you about my day. Why won’t you tell me about yours?” She clasped her hands on her lap so she didn’t reach out to touch him as she desperately wanted to.

“Not much to tell. I spent most of my time waiting for the timer to go off, so I can do the next examination of the samples.” He stood and yawned. She knew it was a fake yawn by how he watched her to gauge if she was buying his act. “I should hit the hay. It’s going to be an early day tomorrow.”

“So you’re going to walk out without even answering my question?”

“I thought I had.”

“Maybe you thought so, but you didn’t. You’re acting as if something’s terribly wrong.” Getting up, she put her arms around him, locking her fingers together behind his nape. “Can I help make it right?”

He started to smile, then said, “I really need to get a good night’s sleep.”

“It’s early yet, and you can sleep... later.”

“Don’t, Gabby.”

“Don’t?” She wanted to believe she had heard him wrong, but it was impossible to delude herself when he grasped her elbows and lowered her arms from around him. “I thought... It’s your birthday, and I wanted to give you something special.”

His arm began to slip around her waist, but he stepped away and turned so his back was to her. “I really need to go. Now.”

She considered stepping between him and the door, but dramatics weren’t her style. The scene flashed through her head. Of her halting him from leaving. Of him seizing her arms to shift her aside. Of him pulling her closer. Of a fevered kiss. Of... so much more. The parade of scenes flew past at fast forward while, in real life, neither of them moved.

“Thanks, Gabby, for the birthday cake,” he said, not looking at her.

“You can take it with you if you want.”

“I’m not sure how much I’m going to be around while I finish up this phase of the experiments. It’ll probably just go stale.”

“Okay.” She had no idea what else she could say.

“Thanks again.” He edged toward the door, each step quicker than the one before it as if he were trying hard not to race away. “Good night, Gabby.” He opened the door and was gone, the door shutting behind him.

As she heard his door open and close on the other side of the hall, she sat on the sofa and stared at the cake. What had just happened here? She’d offered Mike everything she thought he wanted. Everything she wanted, too. He’d been trying to seduce her for weeks, and when she’d turned the tables, ready to make love with him, he’d walked out.

Tears filled her eyes. How had she messed up everything? Maybe she’d read all the signals wrong. No, she couldn’t believe that. She could still taste his desperation when he’d kissed her, but then he’d turned away from her. She hadn’t seen much of him lately. She’d written that off as both of them having too much work. Had he been trying to let their relationship die a quiet death?

“No!” she cried. It couldn’t be that. It couldn’t be, not when he still looked at her with that raw hunger in his eyes.

And guilt.

She choked as she thought of how guilty he’d looked from the moment she’d ambushed him by his door. Not only was he hiding something from her, but he was feeling ashamed that he’d accepted her invitation to dinner. The cake had made it even worse. He’d worn that hangdog look because he hadn’t told her why he’d been sneaking up the stairs. He’d been trying to avoid her.

It was everything she’d feared when Mr. Shepard had started his matchmaking. Either she or Mike would get too serious, and then it’d fall apart, and they’d be left skulking around to keep from having to talk to each other. No, it was worse because she had no idea what had gone wrong.

“Because you won’t tell me!” she snarled as she stared at the cake. She’d given him every chance, even letting him tell her that he’d wished on his candles not to see her again.

Was that what he’d wished? Even if it was, why hadn’t he told her? Had he lost all respect for her? Had he... ? With a curse she’d never spoken before, she raised both fists and slammed them into the cake. Frosting flew in every direction. She stared at the destruction, shocked at her own fury.

Fighting for control, she stood as tears streamed down her face. She must clean up the mess. It’d give her something to do. Then she’d do the dishes and put away the barely touched food. Then she’d go downstairs and get Ceebee. Then, after giving the baby her bottle, she’d put the baby in her crib. Then she’d go to bed herself.

Alone.