John hesitated for a moment at the door, stopping long enough to send up a brief prayer. Please let it be a good day for dad’s sake. He followed his father into the room, stopped inside and waited.
Marilee Ferguson turned her head to face them, her eyes blank.
And there it was. The cue telling them both she had absolutely no idea who they were. God, he hated this. Visits on days like this sapped him of energy, made him want to turn tail and run out of there before one word was spoken. But his dad forged ahead, as usual, determined to make her remember.
“There’s my girl. How are you today, Marilee?”
John Michael held his breath, hoping her next words wouldn’t be accompanied by a terrified scream or a look of suspicion and panic as they sometimes were. Instead, she cocked her head to the side, narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Do I know you gentlemen?”
He released his breath slowly as his dad chuckled and nodded.
“I believe we’ve met a time or two.” J.D. held out a fresh bouquet of Forget-Me-Not flowers to his wife. “John David Ferguson, ma’am, but you can call me J.D. to make it easier. This is my son, John Michael.”
Obviously relying heavily on her friendly Cajun roots, Marilee accepted the flowers graciously. The corners of her light brown eyes crinkled as she beamed up at her husband, the crow’s feet and laugh lines a testimony to the years of a happy life, despite the previous rough patches. “Oh thank you, they’re so pretty. These must be my favorite, I think, because I always seem to have them in my room. It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Ferguson. I’m sorry I’m not who you think I am. I don’t know any Marilee. I’m—I’m—ah, I seem to be having a senior moment.” She closed her eyes, frowned, opened them again. “Jenna. I think my name is Jenna.”
John had to take a step back, watched in amazement, as his dad took less than a split second to compose himself.
J.D. smiled, leaned over to place a chivalrous kiss on his wife’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, too. Jenna is a beautiful name for such a beautiful lady.” He shot a glance in his son’s direction—still smiling, but the sparkle in his eyes somewhat dimmed.
John took a deep breath and released it slowly. He stepped forward to place a comforting hand on his father’s shoulder before kneeling in front of “Jenna’s” chair. It broke his heart every time he had to do this but he did it anyway. He’d do anything to keep some kind of link between himself and the woman who’d given birth to him, loved him, and nurtured him throughout the first fifty-three years of his life. The least he could do was to return the favor in her last years, whether she recognized him or not.
He extended his hand, met her curious gaze. “I’m John Michael, Ms. Jenna. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The drive from the nursing home to the hospital was a quiet one for the two men. John waited until he parked his Ford truck in an available spot in the parking lot before turning to his dad.
“You all right, Pop?”
The old man wiped his face with one hand, shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Johnny. We were supposed to be together.” He stopped suddenly, faced his son. “But then again, I’m preaching to the choir, here, aren’t I? At least your mother’s alive.”
John nodded. “Yeah, she is. That doesn’t change facts. You’re every bit as alone as I am.”
J.D. nodded. “I am, but you don’t have to be, you know. I can’t see Bethie wanting you to live out the rest of your life without someone to go home to. Maybe it’s time to move on, Son.”
John stared ahead at the hospital, couldn’t help but think of his beautiful, sweet Beth and wonder if his dad was right. The thought had him wondering if he’d see Cynthia today. Immediately, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. “God almighty, I miss my wife. I know she’s gone, but I’ll always love her.” He looked over at his dad and smiled. “But I guess I’m preaching to the choir too, aren’t I?”
J.D. nodded—his expression a combination of sadness and acceptance. “If you find someone else, it doesn’t mean you have to stop loving your wife, Johnny. Marilee and I had almost sixty wonderful years together before this disease started affecting our lives. You deserve the same chance to grow old with someone.”
John nodded. “Maybe you’re right.” He grabbed the door handle. “We’ll see, anyway.”
Cynthia approached the third floor nurses station. “Bee, here’s the form you called about. I can show you how to access the electronic file though. You have a printer right there.”
“Uh huh, yeah I know.” Bee whisked the paper from her hands and dropped it carelessly onto the desk. “But if I had, look what you would have missed. That fine hunk o’ man is here again, and I did not imagine him craning his neck to look for you.” She pushed her toward corridor A. “I sent Patrice in there to change his daughter-in-law’s sheets so “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy as Hell is waiting outside the room for the all clear to go back inside. You can thank me later.”
Cynthia balked, but the smooth foam soles of her shoes acted as useless, grip-less glides as Bee pushed her out into the center of the corridor’s intersection. She turned to gape at her, and then heard her name being called. She spun around to see John Michael standing outside the room, as Bee said. He waved and started walking toward her. She had no option, did she, other than to meet him halfway? Considering she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man since she’d seen him again, she sure as hell hoped he found the nerve to ask her out.
He stopped in front of her, slapped his hat on one long, lean thigh—shifting his weight nervously from one booted foot to the other. “Hey Cyn, I was hoping to see you today.”
She lifted her arms to indicate her surroundings. “There was a good chance you would as long as your daughter-in-law is here on this floor.”
He passed one hand through his hair and looked up and down the hall. “Is there some place we could go to talk for a bit?”
Her breath hitched and she couldn’t help but hope for a favorable outcome. She pointed to the alcove behind him. “There’s a small waiting area right here.”
He took four long strides to the room she’d indicated, before turning back to her. “It’s empty.”
She met him, sucked in her breath at the feel of his hand on the small of her back as he ushered her inside.
“You, uh—you want something to drink?” He pointed to the vending machine.
“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She sat on one of the cushioned sofas in the room and patted the seat beside her. “Sit, John Michael. I’ll get a crick in my neck looking up at you.” She waited for him to sit then placed a hand on his knee, hoping to put him at ease. “Now, what do you want to talk about? Do you have a concern about your daughter-in-law or your grand-children?”
“No, not at all,” he rushed in. “I was wondering—I was hoping . . .” He stopped to take a breath and released it slowly. “I’ve been a widower for fifteen years and I know it hasn’t been long since you lost your husband. But, after seeing you yesterday, I was wondering if you’d maybe want to go out sometime? I could take you to lunch or to supper if you have time.”
She fought to keep her cool—not easy when her heart was about to thud right out of her chest. She was a grandmother, for crying out loud, not a teenage girl.
“I’d like that.”
He gave her a quick nod then stood. “All right, then. It’s settled.” He walked to the door.
“John Michael.”
He pivoted. “Yes?”
She grinned. “Do you have a date or time in mind?”
“Oh! No, I haven’t had time to think about it. My mind hasn’t quite adjusted to you saying yes.”
Cynthia reached inside her pocket for a business card and held it out to him. “This has all my numbers. Give me a call when you’re ready.”
He walked over to her, took the card. “I’m ready now. It’s been so long since I’ve asked anyone for a date. I guess I forgot how to do it with any kind of finesse.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m in the same predicament as you, remember? I understand, completely.”
He checked his watch. “Do you get lunch breaks? I could take you some place around here if you’d like. It’d be nice to catch up a little before an actual date.”
“I can’t take a break until 12:00 and I have a procedure scheduled at 1:00. I’ll probably grab something in the cafeteria.”
Was it wrong of her to adore the way his face fell in disappointment? “I’d love the company if you’d like to join me. They make a decent meatloaf and their mashed potatoes are passable.” Her heart did a somersault at the sudden grin creasing his handsome face. The single right dimple she’d swooned over as a young girl made its appearance—and had the same effect as it had back then.
“That’d be nice, Cyn. Pop and I just came from seeing my mom and I could go for something to lift my spirits about now.”
“I didn’t see your dad. He’s welcome to come also.”
“He’s in the restroom.”
They both turned toward the door as his dad appeared suddenly. He entered the room, stopping short when he saw Cynthia seated on the couch. “Hey there, young lady, I didn’t realize you were in here.”
She rose to greet him. “How are you doing, Mr. J.D.?”
He nodded. “I’m good. I’m looking forward to seeing those babies again.”
“There’s nothing like new grandbabies to make the world seem a little brighter, huh?”
He gave her a sad smile. “Yeah. We saw Marilee earlier. I was hoping it’d be a good day so I could tell her about the twins. We showed her pictures, but it didn’t mean much coming from strangers.”
Cynthia reached up to give him a hug. “I’m so sorry, Mr. J.D., John and I were discussing lunch in the cafeteria in about an hour or so. I’d love to catch up with what’s been going on.”
“Lunch, huh?” He patted his belly. “I woke up late this morning and I’m still kind of full from breakfast. I doubt I’ll be hungry by then, but y’all go on ahead. I’ll be holding babies until the two of you are done.”
Cynthia pivoted to face John. “How about if I swing by your daughter-in-law’s room when I’m ready? I’ve got some work to do until then.” She took a step into the hallway and looked back at him. “I think they’re finished with the room now. I’ll see you gentlemen in a bit.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave and left them.
She caught Bee’s eye at the nurse’s station and gave her a thumbs up. “Lunch. One hour.” Bee whooped—lifted her chubby arm and Cynthia slapped her hand in a high five on the way back to her office. “Thank you, Bee.”
“You are so welcome, sugar. Now see?” She chided her other co-workers. “If y’all would leave it to me—I’d have all you ladies hooked up in no time. But, nooo. Nobody wants to listen to Bee!”
Cynthia grabbed a side salad and placed it on her tray. “Maddie, I’ll have the meatloaf and the snap beans—no gravy on the meat loaf, please.” She placed the plate on her tray and slid it down the line.
John Michael passed up the salads and chose a side order of fried okra. “I’ll have the meatloaf and mashed potatoes, extra gravy, with the turnip greens instead, please.” He got to the desserts and chose a slice of apple pie. He pointed at a slice of coconut cream with meringue. “Could I get one of these in a to-go container, please?” He waited for it then slid his tray next to Cynthia’s. They both asked for tea at check out. John paid while Cynthia found a table for them in the semi-crowded cafeteria.
When John met her at the table Cynthia eyed the pies longingly. “I miss desserts. Is that slice for later?”
He checked out her tray. “I can get you a slice.”
She held one hand in front of her face. “No thank you, sugar goes straight to my hips. My metabolism has slowed to a crawl.”
“It looks to me like your metabolism is doing fine.” He pointed his fork at the clear plastic container. “It’s for my dad. He can’t eat sweets much, but he deserves a treat today.” He looked up when he felt her gaze on him.
“Was it bad?”
He shrugged. “It’s always bad when she doesn’t know who we are. Nine times out of ten we’re strangers to her. Still, Pop goes in hoping for the one day she recognizes us. Those are the days that keep him going.”
He paused, took a sip of tea. “Today was especially difficult. She couldn’t remember her own name, which happens a lot. But today, she thought her name was Jenna.” He glanced up at Cynthia’s gasp. “I know. Talk about a spear in the old man’s heart.” He shook his head. “Pop barely missed a beat. He said Jenna was a beautiful name and kissed her hand like an old southern gentleman.”
“He is an old southern gentleman.” Cynthia’s voice was thick with tears.
John handed her his napkin. “Honest to God, Cyn. I don’t know how he does it.”
She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “He probably said the same thing about you when your wife passed away. What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
He reached for the pepper shaker. “Beth died during a surgery to remove a ruptured appendix—complications from the anesthesia.”
“How awful for you.”
“She had turned thirty-eight a couple of months earlier. I was a widower at thirty-nine, with a sixteen year old son.”
“So that makes Zachary thirty-one or so?”
“Yep, he and Cat are the same age.” He began mixing his gravy into his mashed potatoes. “It’s not like you can prepare yourself. We were in shock, both Zach and I. Hell—everyone was—her parents, her siblings, the whole damn town. Beth was a teacher at Lake Erin Middle School and it threw her students for a loop. It was a freaking nightmare.”
“I’m so sorry, John.”
He lowered his fork and lifted his gaze. “And your husband?”
“It was a heart attack—very sudden. You’ve heard of those ‘widow makers’ right?” She used her two forefingers to point at herself. “I’m living proof they exist. Could I have the black pepper, please?”
She shook the bottle over her meatloaf. “Gene was a few months shy of his fifty-fifth birthday. He was in great physical shape, ran two miles at least three times a week. He was the battalion chief for the Tonka City fire department.”
She cut a slice from her meatloaf, her face blank, not revealing a thing. “Every time he went to a fire there were dangers of cave-ins, collapsing floors, smoke inhalation, equipment malfunction, explosions; any number of things could go wrong. He pulled up at his last fire and stepped out of his truck. I was told he clutched his chest and fell to the ground. They tried everything to revive him. Nothing worked. Like with Beth, the entire town was in shock.”
John kept quiet through an awkward but brief silence.
She shook her head. “The funeral was very dramatic—an impressive showing of uniformed firefighters—he was very good at his job. He was a good father, and . . .”
She stopped to take a deep breath before continuing. “He’d been a wonderful husband throughout our marriage—I adored that man. By the last morning of the wake I was ready to crack. I kept staring at his coffin, thinking I couldn’t possibly survive losing him.” She lifted one finger, pointed up in the air. “But God and Gene found a way to help me get through it.”
He picked up on the touch of sarcasm and leaned forward slightly. “What happened, Cyn?”
She sipped her tea thoughtfully. “I met the other woman.”
“Your husband had an affair?”
She nodded. “Was still having an affair at the time of his death. I know this because she told me . . . at the funeral home . . . a couple of hours before I buried my husband.”
“Oh God. You found out about his girlfriend at the funeral?”
She nodded. “Tamara and I had a rather illuminating discussion.” She sighed and rested her crossed arms on the table surface. “Did I mention she was twenty-five years old—the same age as our daughter?”
John couldn’t keep the disgust from his hissed reply. “Son of a bitch.”
Her chin lifted. “Those were among my very last words to my dead husband.” She picked up her fork, used it to point at John. “Never underestimate the benefits of deep seated anger. It makes it so much easier to deal with the death of a cheating spouse.”
He blinked. “Wow. I—I don’t quite know what to say. How did it—I mean—how’d it all go down?” The look on her face had him backing off immediately. “Don’t bother. That’s none of my business.”
She sent him a tight smile. “I’m just not comfortable talking about it to people. Suffice it to say, we were all shocked. I’m talking total disillusionment. I mean, try explaining a situation like that to your kids.” Cynthia sipped from her glass of tea. “The aftershocks were horrendous. Suddenly, I became that woman—the one who didn’t hear until her husband’s funeral that he’d cheated on her. If there’d been a way I could have left town immediately, I would have.”
She stabbed at her green beans. “It took me a year to sell the house and find my replacement at the hospital. All three of my children were upset with me at first for leaving Oklahoma to move back to Louisiana. The boys got over it, of course, said they understood. My daughter is still furious with me. She’s found a way to absolve her father of all blame, as I suspected she would. Instead she’s heaped it onto me.”
John frowned. “That doesn’t seem fair. You’d think, as a woman, she’d be a little more empathetic.”
She gave him a one shouldered shrug. “She’s never had a cheating spouse, and I pray she never does. But, after what I’ve experienced, her unreasonable anger with me is nothing I can’t handle.”
He linked his fingers as he sat there studying her. “You seem extremely well-adjusted for what you’ve been through.”
“I fully expected to have some kind of mental or emotional implosion. I even went to a therapist, thinking surely she’d uncover some anger issues, some deeply-hidden resentment waiting to emerge—something to make me go ballistic on a few people.”
John had to laugh at the image. “Did she find anything?”
She joined in his laughter. “No, can you believe it?”
“I doubt anyone would have blamed you if you had.”
She speared a cherry tomato with her fork. “What good would it have done? The only one I could have blamed was dead and buried.”
“Well, it proves you’re from strong stock, Cyn.”
“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever called me that. Everyone else called me Cindy or Cynthia.” She popped the tomato into her mouth.
“I’m a little surprised. It seems natural. It’s always rolled off of my tongue so easily.” He took a bite of the tasty meatloaf and they ate in silence for a few moments before he picked up the conversation with a total change of subject. “What was it like being a transplanted Cajun in Oklahoma?”
The corners of her eyes creased with amusement.
“It took some adjusting at first. The real test came when I married into a family whose people had been there for over a hundred years. Those folks were set in their ways, let me tell you. Within a few months, I realized it was mostly my in-laws who were so tough to crack. Everyone else seemed friendly enough.”
John had made quick work of finishing his lunch. He pushed the plate away to attack his apple pie. “I’m sure you eventually worked your way into their hearts.”
“It took a little time for my mother-in-law to accept me working towards a career. She thought I should have stayed home to take care of her baby boy.”
John dug his fork into his slice of apple pie. “And how’d baby boy feel about it?”
Cynthia washed down her last bite of meatloaf with a sip of tea. “He was all for me getting an education and having a career. It was his suggestion to put off having children until I was more than half-way through school. I was twenty-five when our first son was born. Our daughter came two years later and youngest son in another two years.”
“That’s a good size family for someone beginning her medical career. You must have been stressed.”
“Kids are stressful no matter what career you’re in. I mean, the responsibility of raising those little lives is massive, am I right? But, Gene and I pulled together to make it work.” She stabbed at the last of her green beans and lifted her fork. “That’s why I was so shocked at the funeral incident.”
“Did you ever talk to any of his co-workers, find out how long they’d known?”
“Once I got home, a couple of his buddies, Jimmy J. and Charlie, showed up at the house wanting to discuss it.”
“Must have been an interesting conversation—”
“It never took place,” she interjected. “I had no desire to hear them or anyone else attempt to justify his actions to me, or why they all lied for him.”
“You’ve got resolve. My curiosity would have made me listen to what they had to say.”
She stopped, stared at him. “What difference would it have made? There is nothing anyone could have said to make what he did the slightest bit acceptable. I told them it was too damn late to use me to clear their consciences—then I shut the door in their faces.” She lifted her glass of tea.
John grinned at her and lifted his glass as well. He reached across the table, touched his rim to hers. “Well done, Cyn. For what it’s worth, I agree with you. There’s no room for infidelity in marriage.”
“Thank you, John Michael.”
He dug his fork into his pie again, lifted one brow to send a glance her direction. “You know, you’re the only one who called me by my full name all during high school. Everyone else called me John or Johnny.”
“I love the sound of John Michael together, don’t you?”
He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I only thought of it as a way to distinguish myself from my dad and grandfather. Hell, my Paw Paw didn’t pass away until I was thirty. For a while, there were three John Ferguson’s in Lake Erin. It was crazy. I sure as hell wasn’t going to add to the insanity by adding a fourth when I had a son.”
“So you named him Zachary.”
“Yes, because I wanted him to have some kind of individuality.”
Cynthia clucked her tongue. “Such a rebel, going against tradition.”
John chuckled. “You think so, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
“There are times when it’s a good thing. Other times, eh, not so much,” he added.
Finished with her lunch, she pushed her plate aside and pulled her drink closer. “So, have you thought any more about when this date should take place?”
“How about Saturday evening?”
Her eyes crinkled with laughter. “Works for me. You want to meet somewhere?”
He fidgeted in the seat. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve done this, but don’t guys pick girls up for dates anymore?”
“I’m sure they do. Would you prefer to pick me up at my place?”
He gave her an enthusiastic nod. “I would. I promise I’ll get you back whatever time you need to be home.”
Cynthia glanced at her watch and pushed back from the table. She gave him a mischievous wink. “Are you afraid Mama’s gonna give me a curfew if she sees I’m going out with you?”
“You never know.” When she stood, he followed suit, grabbed both their trays. “You need to get back to work.”
She nodded. “I really should. I have to prep for a procedure. So, listen, I’ve already given you my card with my numbers. Call me when you get a chance and I’ll give you Mom’s new address in Jennings. I’d started looking for my own place, but she liked having me around and asked me to stay. I figure I’m playing catch up and giving my siblings a break. I’m finally able to pull my fair share of Mom duty.”
“Lucky me. I get my pop all to myself—and he is one stubborn old coot.”
“If he’s anything like Mom, he can’t seem to grasp why he shouldn’t be doing some things he used to do.”
“Exactly! Especially with his cataracts.”
“And the surgery these days is so low risk, with high success rates. There’s really no excuse not to have it.”
John held up one finger. “Ah, but there again, he’d have to admit he had a problem to even think about any kind of corrective surgery.”
“Like with the prostate.”
He gave an abrupt nod. “You got it. I’ve tried to explain it to him. Something that started out the size of a walnut is probably the size of a lemon now, but he won’t listen to me. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”
She checked her phone and slipped it into the pocket of her lab coat. “I’d be glad to give it a shot next time I see him. Thanks for treating me to lunch, John Michael. I’ll see you Saturday and don’t lose my card.” She started backing toward the exit. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”