Twelve

It was a pleasant morning with Nana, a woman who refused to allow Declan to call her anything else. In the middle of playing cards, he realized where Felicia had inherited her quiet strength from. Although, by the fourth game of Canasta—a game he’d never played before—he realized Nana differed in one way from Felicia. She was ruthless. He didn’t mind, though. If only he could have a relationship like this with his mother.

“You playing or daydreaming about my granddaughter?”

He shot straight in his chair, causing the delicate backing to crack. “What? No… Why would you ask that?”

Nana shifted her cards around the makeshift stand he’d created with a butcher block and a rubber band so she could play with one hand. “Because you’re smitten with her. It’s written all over your face, so don’t deny it to me.” A slight bit of spittle escaped from the drooping side of her lip, so he dabbed it with the handkerchief. This time, she didn’t pull away or look upset. They’d found a rhythm between them that worked.

He took a moment to choose his words carefully, shifting the fifteen cards in his hands. There would be no denying his attraction to Felicia, not to Nana. She’d call him out and then challenge him until he confessed, so he stayed with the truth. With a deep breath, he abandoned his cards and looked her straight in the eyes. “No need to worry. I’d never pursue your granddaughter. She deserves much better.”

“Hogwash.” She fisted her good hand and hit the table, causing a few cards to fall from the rubber band. “You think I’ll be around forever? Heck, I’ve got one leg, one arm, and half a face already in the grave.”

“Don’t say that.” Declan shifted, causing more cracking noises in the chair.

“Listen, son. I’ve lived my life. I’m good to go home to my good Lord. The only reason I’m sticking around is for Felicia. I’ve tried to find her a man, but she’s too obsessed with caring for me to allow herself to date. This morning was the best and only date she’s had in over a year.”

“This morning wasn’t a date,” he quickly corrected her. “Work. We were working.”

“By dim light, alone, snuggled together amongst beautiful flowers?” she said in a narrator of a romance movie kind of way. “Lacey likes to gossip.”

“Work.” He huffed. “We going to play or talk all day?”

She leaned back. “Talk. I’m old and crippled, so I get what I want.”

“Ha, I see your MO now.” He didn’t lean back to match her posture, afraid the chair might snap in half.

“Listen here, young man. When I’m gone, Felicia will be alone. I can’t rest until I know she has someone important in her life.”

“You don’t understand.”

“That you brought Stella’s father here, that you’re an ex-con, that your own mother doesn’t want you to visit her?”

Every muscle in his body stiffened. “How’d you—”

“Know?” She chuckled, sending a little saliva spray over the table. “You don’t think I would’ve allowed you to stay here if I didn’t check you out, did you? I might be old, but I’m a town elder. I know more than you could imagine. Like why your mother is upset with you.”

“Hates me.” He sighed, sending all the tension from his body, replaced by the weight of defeat.

“She suffers from dementia. She’ll hate everyone. Trust me. I lost my best friend to the disease. In the end, she called me every name and accused me of stealing the man she loved away from her. Well, the last part had some truth, but we’d patched that up years ago.”

He studied the soil in his nails, a sight that brought a feeling of accomplishment and hope to him. It represented an honest day’s work, living in the outside world, by Felicia’s side.

“Unless your mama hates you for another reason.”

He didn’t answer, knowing that lying wouldn’t be an option, and the truth brought up way too much that he’d buried long ago.

“I see.” She winked the side of the cloudy silver eye. “No need to explain. Just tell me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you regret it? Whatever your mother hates you for?”

He thought about it for a moment, but no other path would’ve kept his mother safe and well. “No. Not even for a second.”

Nana drew two cards. “I win again.”

He didn’t have to look to know she had. The woman was a card shark. Good thing he wasn’t a betting man. That was his father’s trait, not his own. Too bad he’d bet all their lives and lost.

“Can I offer one more piece of advice?”

He smiled at Nana. “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope.” She attempted a smile, but only one side lifted, filling out her cheek, while the other one remained low and unresponsive. But he saw something in that smile, a beauty that must’ve turned men’s heads in her day.

“Then shoot.”

“Try opening up to Felicia. Trust her with your truth. Even if only a little of it.”

He thought about her words for a moment. “But if I do that, it would mean that we were connecting on more than a boss-employee level.”

“Would that be so bad?” Nana asked.

Her words were like the keys to his cell hanging just out of reach.

“Don’t answer that.” Nana pulled her cards free and stacked them with the others. “Shuffle and deal. I’m ready to beat you again.”

Felicia’s truck crunched gravel nearing the house.

“Later. I want to go help Felicia first. Stay right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He catapulted out of his chair to the front door until he realized he’d showed too much eagerness under Nana’s watchful eye. He turned to see her give an all-knowing nod, and for a minute he believed the woman did know everything. Things he didn’t even know about himself.

He rushed to Felicia, excited to see her as if they’d been apart days instead of hours. She held out bags with logos to a place he’d never seen before. Certainly not a place from Sugar Maple. She looked dejected, the way she held out the food to him with little effort and her gaze traveled everywhere but at him. “What’s wrong?”

She lifted her chin. “Nothing. I just thought it would be good to bring something different home to Nana. How was your morning with her?”

He decided to let it go. Whatever was bothering her wasn’t his business unless she wanted to share. “Good. She taught me how to play Canasta.”

“Oh no.” She lifted his free hand and studied his arms and then his face. “I don’t see any bruises or cuts. You must’ve let her win.”

“Let her? She’s ruthless. I think she’d put any player to shame.” The aroma of fries made his stomach growl. “Guess it’s time for brunch.”

“Guess so.” She followed him inside, where Nana was making a not-so-fast escape. Cards were scattered on the floor and the chair was tipped over, but to his relief she was standing.

“Where you going in such a rush?” Felicia asked, tossing her purse onto the armchair and grabbing hold of Nana’s bad side.

She swatted Felicia with her good hand. “Stop your fussing. I’m tired and going to my room. I’ll eat later. Besides, I’m not crashing any dates.”

“This isn’t a date,” Felicia said too quickly for Declan’s taste. Despite all his protests about getting too close, somehow he’d already connected with her in a dangerous way. Dangerous to his heart and pride.

Nana shuffled toward the back hall with her cane, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the living room. He retrieved some plates but felt like something had to be said. “Date? Ha. If I were to take you out on a date, it wouldn’t be fast food thrown on plates at your kitchen table.”

She sauntered into the kitchen with a sway to her walk. “Really? Tell me, Mr. Declan Mills. What would you do if you took me on a date?”

“If it were a real date, I wouldn’t take you to a five-star restaurant in town.”

“That’s good because we don’t really have any. Well, we have a nice steak place outside of town.” She shrugged and hopped up onto the kitchen counter, watching him retrieve four plates out of the cabinet as if he lived there. “Then where would you take me?”

If this were a date, I’d spend all day creating the perfect homemade picnic lunch, and then I’d surprise you in the center field to watch the sunset.” He placed two plates on the table, opened the bag, and set the breakfast sandwiches and potatoes on them. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the room, but it was only lukewarm since she’d obviously driven a good distance to get them. “I’d spread out a blanket, place candles in the center, and offer you my hand to sit.” He tossed the bag into the trash and walked over to her at the counter, where he held out his hand.

“If this were a date.” She winked and slid her fingers into his palm. “And then what?”

“And then I’d move in close so I could enjoy the aroma of your shampoo and the brush of your skin to mine.”

Her lips parted and her eyes hooded. “And if it were a date. I wouldn’t move away.”

His skin heated at the sight of her full lips, long lashes that accentuated her bright eyes, and the faintest freckles on her cheeks. “If this were a date.”