Fiona’s finger tapped wearily at the tambour. How much longer must she wait? The last news had come hours ago, and still she sat, or paced, or prayed.
Staci frowned. Would her readers resent the inclusion of a religious practice? But earlier times had often seen more overt examples of piety; it would be historically correct.
Perhaps if she could only be good enough then her world might finally be put right.
Staci stared at what she’d just typed. Is that truly what she thought? She glanced up from the screen to where Gran lay, her body motionless except for the slight rise and fall of her chest as air was pumped in. Staci stretched, rolling her shoulders to work the kinks from her neck and back after a torturous night’s sleep in the chair. She’d barely slept, worry for Gran keeping pace with the urgency to finish this story. She had less than two weeks before this was due; she was running out of time.
But the story was slowly being written, even though at times it felt like it was being dragged from her, inch by blessed inch, the writerly equivalent of having her fingernails pulled. Thank goodness. Not that she’d been too good yesterday with Dr. Coffee. She was sure her rude, dismissive actions had given him a right royal distaste of her.
She shook her head, eyes staring unseeingly at the screen, as his kindness twisted guilt again. Who did that, deal with a virtual stranger so patiently, then deal with a stupid dog—even deal with dog mess for goodness sake!—and still proved considerate when she had all but bundled him from the house? Maybe he was a masochist. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Maybe he was—
“Here you are.”
She flinched, clutching at her computer as papers fell to the ground.
“Sorry.” Dr. Coffee smiled his warm smile at her. “Didn’t mean to cause another paper crisis.” He bent down to collect a sheet, glanced at the lines, then at her as she nearly snatched it from his hand.
“Thanks,” she muttered. Heaven forbid he saw her writing. What would Dr. Good and Kind say if he knew she’d written for Flame’s Passion Defiant line?
“Why is it that you constantly seem surrounded by so much paper?” he asked. “Don’t you like trees?”
“Actually, I quite like trees.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Have you ever been forest bathing?”
His eyes widened. “Somehow I don’t think you’re talking about skinny dipping in a mountain stream.”
She fought a smile. “It’s a Japanese thing where stressed out workers are encouraged to spend time in the woods and be refreshed among nature.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“It works, too. I tried it among the redwoods in California.”
“Really?”
“Really.” When on a weekend’s break from university. Best stress relief ever.
“Miss Everton, I must admit that sometimes you say the most surprising things.”
What did he mean? Was he mocking her? But that look in his eyes didn’t suggest such a thing. Oh, why did this man jumble her thoughts and emotions so much? Her gaze untangled from his, and she turned to the figure lying in the bed. “Any news on how Gran is doing?”
“That’s why I’m here.” He flicked open the charts and was perusing them when the nurse came in. “Ah, Nurse Wilson. How’s the patient?”
“No change.” The middle-aged nurse eyed Staci with something like a frown. “Have you been here all night, young lady?”
Staci kept her gaze averted from the doctor. “I got some rest.”
“Tsk, tsk. You need to make sure you rest properly,” Nurse Wilson continued. “Your grandmother will need you well when she gets ready to go home.”
A snicker made Staci shoot the doctor a sour look. Were they all in on this together? “I wanted to be here for Gran,” she maintained.
“So she hasn’t stirred at all?”
“Only once, Doctor, and only briefly.”
“She’ll improve with an easing of the drugs today.” He issued some instructions, then turned to Staci once more. “If—when—she does wake, just talk to her quietly. Sometimes in situations like these people can get a little agitated and confused when they realize they’ve undergone such an experience, and it’s best to keep them calm, let them know they’re in good hands, and so on. I’m sure you being here will provide Rose with that reassurance.”
She nodded, slumping back in her seat, hiding a yawn with her hand.
“I’ll be back to check on her later,” he murmured to Nurse Wilson, before nodding to Staci. “Miss Everton.”
“Dr. Wells.”
She watched his white-coated-self walk away, then turned back to the bed, but not before noticing the nurse give her an assessing look. Staci ignored her, and moved closer to Gran, picking up her hand and caressing it. “Hey, Gran, I’m here. Feel free to wake up soon.”
“There are no guarantees for when she’ll wake up, but you keep on talking to her and we’ll hope for the best.”
“And pray.”
Nurse Wilson looked startled. “Well, yes, that too.”
Staci swallowed a smile. Was it any wonder the nurse who’d admitted she enjoyed Staci’s racy novels was taken aback by her mention of prayer?
Soon she left, and Staci was left alone again, save for Gran, and the accompanying beeps and sighs of modern medical technology. She gave Gran’s hand another stroke, then returned to her laptop and was soon lost in Fiona’s world again.
The door slowly opened. Fiona’s heart beat increased its pace. Who was there? What should she do? Friend or foe? Oh—
“Excuse me?” A graying head popped around the door. “Anastacia?”
“Oh, Jenny! Hello.” Staci waved her inside. “This is a nice surprise.”
“I was in the neighborhood, and thought I’d drop by. It can get a little lonely waiting here on one’s own. Well, that was my experience, anyway. And when Jem mentioned you were here again—”
“He mentioned me?”
“Oh, just last night, when he finally got in. He thought you might spend the night here.” Her smile, reminiscent of her son’s, flashed. “He was right, huh?”
Staci shrugged. “I just wanted to be here in case Gran wakes up.”
“Of course you did, hon. Did you get some sleep?”
“A bit.”
“Have you had something to eat? I know the cafeteria food isn’t all that great, so I brought you some muffins and fruit, just in case.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Staci said, touched. Was this what mothering felt like? It had been so long since her own mother had passed, she barely recognized the feeling. She met Jenny’s gaze and smiled. “But I’m so glad you did.”
Jenny beamed. “I just knew that was what I was meant to do today. Now, would you like a cup of coffee? I brought some in a thermos as well. I know it’s not as fancy as some of those flavors you can get at The Coffee Blend, but Jem assures me it’s good.”
Staci straightened in her seat, accepting the blueberry muffin with murmured thanks. “Um, coffee would be great, thank you.” She took a bite. Blueberry tartness sang through the sugar and butter melting in her mouth. “Oh, my goodness, Mrs. Wells. Did you make these? They’re so good.”
Jenny wore a proud smile. “I like to think my muffins can hold their own at the Spring Fair.”
“The Spring Fair?” Was this a new town tradition, or another she’d forgotten?
“It’s probably a more grandiose title for what it really is. But Muskoka Shores does like to celebrate the end of winter with a fair in early May. We hold it just before Mother’s Day, which is a wonderful time for people to buy gifts and such for their…”
Her voice trailed away, and she looked at Staci apologetically. “I’m sorry. I should not have mentioned Mother’s Day.”
“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.” No wonder people hadn’t gone out of their way to mention such things to her.
“Anyway, you look like you were rather busy when I came in. Is that another novel?”
“It’s the one I need to submit by Christmas,” she admitted.
“Ah, and here you are being distracted by your poor grandmother’s illness and all manner of things.” Jenny eyed Staci thoughtfully. “Would it help if I stayed with her for a while? You could go home, have a shower, then spend some more time working.”
Her heart leapt at the idea. But, “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. I know, better than anyone, how hard it can be to rest in a hospital. In some ways you should be glad your grandmother is not yet awake. It can be mighty hard to get to sleep with IV drips and buzzers and all the noises all the time.”
How well Staci knew that, stifling another yawn.
“Go. I’ll be the friendly face Rose needs when she wakes up. And if she doesn’t wake, then we’ll be trusting God that He’s continuing to restore her body to full health, and when you do return she’ll be sure to be happy to see you. And you’ll be able to focus on her without the distraction of looming deadlines.”
“Are you sure, Mrs. Wells?”
“Really sure. Now, go.” Jenny pulled up a chair and drew out her knitting. “I’ll be quite happy sitting here talking to Rose. We have a lot to catch up on.” Her eyes twinkled. “Even if she can only listen, I’m sure she’ll be interested in what I have to say.”
Staci didn’t doubt that but couldn’t help wondering how much of what Jenny would share would pertain to her. She tamped down the thoughts. Really, she was acting almost as self-centered as Davis Scott, thinking every conversation needed to pertain to herself. Rose was Jenny’s friend and Jenny would have far more interesting things to share than whether James was interested in Staci. Ugh. Was this the curse of the romance writer, seeking romance wherever she went, even if it was entirely in her imagination? Although James had mentioned Staci to his mother a few times, and must have shown something of his concern for Jenny to be here checking on Staci’s welfare…
Oh, enough! She was being ridiculous. He had a girlfriend. Didn’t he?
She collected her papers, stuffing them with her laptop into her computer bag, retrieving the various items that constituted time spent in hospital. A water bottle. Her scarf. Her down-filled jacket. Her phone.
“Oh! This battery charger belongs to James—I mean, Dr. Wells. He lent me his yesterday. Should I give it to you?”
Jenny waved it away. “You keep it. I’m sure if Jem needs it he’ll come find you.”
Why did that feel like a set-up? She winced at her thoughts. She obviously really needed sleep. “Okay, then. Thanks so much, Jenny. You’ll let me know if Gran wakes?”
“Absolutely. Now go, write that story.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Staci managed a mock salute and, with a last press of lips to Gran’s brow and smiled thanks to Jenny, hurried away.
Her shoes echoed down the hall, her arms filled with bags and equipment. She wondered if she’d meet Dr. Coffee and was strangely disappointed when she reached her car without encountering him. She did manage to see Larissa and offer her a half-smile which was met with a lift of fingers probably meant to constitute a wave. No matter. Staci had to get home, had to get changed, had to—had to check on Penny! Oh no! What if the dog had escaped again? Staci had secured the laundry door properly, hadn’t she? Or had that been Dr. Coffee? The past twenty-four hours were beginning to blur; she couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.
Balancing her bundles carefully, she beeped open her car and carefully stowed her items, annoyed at herself for thinking how much easier it had been to have Dr. Coffee’s assistance the previous time. She was an independent woman for goodness sake! She didn’t need a man to help her.
But some small part of her—a part twenty-first century feminist Staci would deny—still liked the feeling of being looked after, the feeling of protection, of belonging. Like the feeling that Jenny had brought with her, with her baking and motherly concern. Her eyes pricked. It had been way too long since she’d felt that way.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she muttered, and started the car.
The drive home took only minutes, minutes in which she could appreciate last night’s dump of snow and the Christmas decorations neighbors had begun putting up, cheery lights that seemed to warm her heart—and the frigid air—by several degrees. She pulled in, grabbed her bag and laptop essentials, and made her way inside. Sure enough, Penny’s yelping penetrated the walls. Great. Didn’t the dog know how to use the doggy flap in the laundry door? She’d have to deal with her later.
She filled the kettle and switched it on, propped a teabag in her cup and waited, gazing at the sink where the two cups from yesterday still taunted. Had she been rude to James today? She pressed at the dull pain centering her forehead, the boiling water reaching a crescendo. It was so hard to juggle her work, her responsibilities, her friendships, let alone try to forge new ones. Is that what he was? A friend? She tried the word on. He certainly seemed interesting, but could she really be friends with a man with a girlfriend? That seemed weird; she bet the girlfriend wouldn’t be too happy. Or maybe she was more secure than Staci had ever been. She looked the sort who should be, all tanned Barbie curves and hair. With her Celtic coloring, Staci had always felt she looked and acted different, even before her parents’ accident had cemented the fact.
When the teabag had bled the water to a satisfactory brown, she added milk, then moved to the sink, gazing out the window. The trees seemed to have lost more leaves; she could see more of the neighbor’s house today. She sipped her tea. Time was passing. She really should get started on her book, but for a few moments she just wanted to stand here, to be still.
A cloud passed over the sun, dimming the sky. She placed her cup down, felt her shoulders sag as weight seemed to swarm over her. She was so weary. And the dog still barked for attention. Her book still needed to be written. Gran.
But Gran was at least being cared for by medical staff and friends. And Gran did have friends, people willing to put away groceries and help with other things. Such was the benefit of a small town. People might know each other’s business, but it meant they knew when to care. Staci had a few friends in Chicago, but how many would know when to offer assistance, or even would think to offer? Her life of takeout and isolation barely accommodated that.
Her eyes lifted to the windowsill, where yesterday’s African violet was now potted. Had Dr. Coffee done that? Her heart snagged. Maybe God was helping her more than she knew, enveloping her with kindness she did not deserve. Kindness she could not afford to indulge in, she told herself firmly. She had a story to write, then a Smallville to leave. Her future was not here.
Dragging in a deep breath, she pushed away from the counter, and moved reluctant feet to where eager paws scratched at the laundry door. “Penny? Are you in there?”
The way the yelping escalated said her voice had been registered. Her heart caught anew. No wonder Penny was excited. She probably expected to see Gran, her faithful companion for this however many years. Was that why she’d gotten frustrated before? Poor thing.
Staci opened the door and Penny rushed out, barking madly, pawing at Staci’s jeans-clad legs before rushing to Gran’s room. “Sorry, Penny. Gran is still away.”
But Penny paid no heed, sniffing around corners and clawing at the furnishings as if she expected Gran to suddenly appear. Staci watched her for a moment, then sighed. She really couldn’t let Gran’s house get trashed from the enthusiasm of a ten-year-old puppy.
“Hey, Penny. Do you want something to eat?” Staci moved to the refrigerator where Gran kept the special dog food normally fed to Penny on Sundays. Today counted as special enough. She spooned some out into a bone-shaped bowl and placed it on the floor, which Penny fell on ravenously. Oh. Hadn’t she left food enough in the laundry? She peeked inside. Nope. The dog dispenser food bowl looked like it had been topped up yesterday; the water looked like the same. Dr. Coffee again? Staci owed him, big time.
Apart from that, the room looked surprisingly okay, although—her nose wrinkled—it seemed Penny preferred to do her business inside rather than outdoors. A quick search revealed the offending item, and she carefully wrapped it in newspaper and took it outside then flung it into the far corner of the garden. She supposed she should be grateful that the little wretch at least knew to use the doggy door for other matters.
Back inside, she quickly washed her hands then moved to her room. But Penny barred her way, her yelps demanding attention. Staci’s irritation surged, then waned. Poor thing. It must be hard to be unable to communicate with anyone who understood doggy language. She crouched down, stroking Penny on her head, and spoke softly. “You poor thing. I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice to you. You must be missing Gran as much as I am.”
Penny’s head tilted to one side, then she uttered a short bark, as if in agreement.
Staci smiled what felt like her first smile that day. “So if you’ll forgive me for not understanding, then I’ll forgive you for wrecking my papers and ruining my favorite shirt. Deal?”
Another bark.
“Okay then.” Before she could stand, Penny lunged forward, licking Staci’s face with the eagerness of a two-year-old child with an ice-cream. “Penny!” Her laughter sounded rusty. “Come on, girl.”
Staci picked her up, feeling the heat of the little body press against her, as the barks softened to an ecstatic canine version of a purr. Staci rubbed Penny’s head slowly, the little body quivering with delight. Why, all Penny wanted was to feel comforted, to feel loved. Her eyes blurred. How well she knew that feeling.
She stood, and a new wave of tiredness hit her. She forced her eyes open. She really should get back to her laptop, but there was no way she could write while holding Penny, and she sensed the dog would be reluctant to give up this cuddle anytime soon. She stumbled to the lounge room, spying the calendar on Gran’s wall. She really should check if Gran had any appointments that would need to be cancelled, but right now, all she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep, with the comfort of a drowsy dog in her arms. Feeling like someone loved her, feeling a sense of rightness, of assurance in this world. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt. So she lay down on the floral lounge, stretched out, and closed her eyes to rest.
“James, do you mind?”
He did, but sensed Brandi wouldn’t stop until he agreed. “Sure, we can do a car swap. I can be there in an hour.”
They ended the call, and he stared at his phone as a text from his mom pinged for attention. At the hospital with Rose, sent Annie home. Please check on her as soon as able. Tx
Annie? Who on earth was—oh, Anastacia.
Aversion at his mom’s request to see an unknown person soon changed to anticipation. See Staci he’d gladly do, her humor meshed with his, her whirlwind energy intrigued him.
He pressed the buzzer for his next patient, and the remaining consultations made the time fly—or maybe that was simply his impatience to see Staci. Glad for the chance to finish early, he drove John’s beat up Ford downtown to the bookstore where Brandi had requested him to come.
“Oh, thanks so much,” Brandi said, a smile lighting her face. “We’ve got some large displays we need to move, and they won’t fit in my car, so yours is the only vehicle large enough to carry them.”
He nodded, although he had his doubts. “What’s the display?”
“Oh, you should come and look.” She grabbed his arm and led him inside, but there were no sparks, no nothing between them. Not like there was with—
“Look.” Brandi pointed to the front window where a Christmas display of Santa’s sleigh packed with books held pride of place.
“It looks good as it is,” he said. “What needs to change?”
“I thought we could have some reindeer. And more snow. What do you think?”
He picked up a book from a nearby display, a historical romance, judging from the picture of pirates and sailing ship on the front, then placed it back. “I think you don’t really need to change a thing.” And that this had been a waste of time.
“Oh, but you’re here now. Won’t you help me?”
He bit back the words of impatience hovering on his tongue and nodded his acquiescence. He had nothing else to do, except visit Staci, and if he left that visit a little longer then maybe he could see if she were free for dinner…
“Let’s get this happening then. I’ve got things to do a little later.”
“Thank you.” She smiled up at him, and for a moment he could see why John had fallen for her. Brandi was attractive, and obviously enjoyed her books, and so was not unintelligent. She and John had been a couple since high school, which made her almost part of the family. He just hoped others didn’t see them together and assume other things.
The next two hours were spent lugging bulky polystyrene reindeers from a storage shed on the town outskirts to the bookstore, his truck making the trip a few times.
He studied the display, offering advice when requested, as Brandi and her assistant rearranged things. He glanced at his watch. “I really need to go now.”
“Oh. Well, thank you again for your help, James.”
“You’re welcome.” He moved back outside and turned the ignition, only to discover the extra trips had used up his extra gas. He smacked the steering wheel and made his way back inside.
“Brandi, I need to borrow your car. Mine’s run out of gas.”
“Oh, well, can you give me a moment? It’s nearly closing time, and then I can drop you back.”
He was tempted to say her assistant could do it but refrained as it might have sounded churlish. After a few minutes waiting they finally headed home, but his dad was out and not answering his phone, and Mom was still at the hospital. He grabbed a gas can and made his way back to the car. “Sorry. Seems I’ll need you to drive me back after all.”
“No problem.”
But ten minutes later, after purchasing gas and carefully pouring it in, he discovered his truck still refused to go. Exasperation bit. He pushed it down. Africa had provided many opportunities to practice patience; he should be better at this by now.
“Looks like I’ll need to wait until Dad can come and check things over.”
“Oh, but you don’t want to wait in the cold, do you?”
Not particularly.
“And didn’t you say you had an appointment? I can drive you there if you like.”
Yeah. Okay, this could be awkward. “It was something Mom asked me to do, to check on one of her former students,” he felt it necessary to say.
“Of course. Do you know the way?”
“Yeah.”
Glad she didn’t ask him why he knew such a random thing, he directed the way to Rose’s house. When he arrived it was very still, save for an insistent yapping inside, that suddenly stopped.
He knocked on the door. “Hello?”
A glance back at the Volkswagen revealed Brandi watched him, her forehead pleated.
He knocked again. “Hello? Staci?”
“Maybe she’s gone out,” Brandi called.
Maybe. But something insisted he remain.
He pounded on the door again and called out more loudly. “Staci?”