I'm Sure Page 3
My stomach plummets. In case what? You cancel? I push away the thought, determined not to drive him away, too, by giving mixed messages. I do want this, no matter what I tell Sara. And no matter how many times I do something stupid like suggest I meet him there. We exchange numbers and say good bye. Before I walk inside the nursery building, I turn back and see he’s getting into a dark green Jeep. Of course he is. I love Jeeps.
So much for those plants for his aunt. He could have asked her before he came how many she wanted or called her. Throwing off any dark clouds I’d conjured, I smile. With a spring in my step, I head back to my ponds.
Chapter Three
Megan
The week drags by too slowly until Friday, which zips by too fast, and I get home from work later than planned. Today was my day with a client who wanted to talk about plants more than she wanted me to finish planting. I like talking about plants, but this is a business. When I meet one of these clients, I attempt to circumvent the discussion, or add consult hours, but it’s not a perfect science, especially when I’m captive on site with a truckload of plants and fish waiting for a new home.
I kick off my boots and yank off my dirty clothes in the mudroom of the ranch house I bought last year. The house is no showpiece yet, but even so, I leave my dirty clothes in a hamper by the garage door. I hurry to the shower. Fifteen minutes later, my hair and I are clean, my legs are reshaved, and I’m in front of my walk-in closet considering what to wear.
From way in back, I extricate my flirty tulip-shaped skirt. While the iron heats, I decide between a silk peasant blouse and a sleeveless knit. I go for the sleeveless and choose a wrap for when the temperature drops.
Pedicures aren’t a treat, but more of a necessity for feet like mine that spend so much time in sweaty socks and boots. I slip on sandals that showcase my “What A Peach!” polished toes, and then fuss over my make-up. I’m going for effortlessly fabulous. When I finish, I have a few minutes to run a dryer over my hair. I’m wearing it down and natural over my shoulders. It’s one of my better features, and my natural waves makes this style look kind of mermaidy.
Time to leave. I pick up my keys. My stomach takes a giddy flip. I’m headed to meet Jason.
When I arrive at the restaurant, I don’t see his Jeep. Inside is a lively hum, people talking and enjoying themselves, with the inviting scent of roasted garlic in the air. I am now starving. I look over the dining room surrounding the open kitchen, but he’s not in sight.
The dark-haired hostess catches my eye.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m meeting someone…D’Annuci? I don’t think he’s here.”
She checks her listing, and shakes her head. “No one has checked in for that reservation. May I show you to your table?”
I don’t know that I want to sit before Jason arrives, but the entry way is crowded, and I’ve worked a long day. I nod my agreement and follow her.
At 8:21, I accept the waiter’s third offer of water and start in on the bread. I’ve been staring at the bottle of herbed olive oil and the glass canister of grated cheese long enough. I mix the two on my bread plate, dip my bread, and take a bite. The savory flavors are a perfect blend, but the fact I’m still sitting by myself, while everyone around me is enjoying the company at their table, puts a damper on my enjoyment.
A tightness grows inside my rib cage. No message from him on my phone. Maybe I don’t have service. I check my phone. I’ve got four bars. I watch as the waiter tending the couple who just arrived at the next table flicks open the napkin and places it on the woman’s lap. Her dinner partner orders them wine; they can’t take their eyes off each other.
I clench my teeth, and take my eyes off them, fast.
My phone says 8:34. I stare at the candle flickering in the mercury glass holder on our table. I fiddle with the napkin in my lap, that I put there myself. Now I’m wishing I hadn’t disturbed anything on the table since I may be leaving without eating.
The waiter stops by again and I’m aware he wants me to order something so I select a glass of house wine. I run my fingers through my hair, which is now beyond dry. I huff out a breath.
Jason could have lost my number. But I’m grasping now. I watched him enter my number right into his phone. He’d have to have lost his phone…I brighten at this possible explanation—his job is active enough—but then I realize he would have needed to lose his marbles, too, not to remember the restaurant he suggested or obtain the phone number and call from another phone. He could be on an emergency call, but the crisis would have to be a doozy at this point, wouldn’t it?
A fiendish thought pops into my mind. Any time he didn’t show up, he could always say he’s on an emergency call. I wouldn’t know the difference.
8:52. I readjust my wrap that I’ve folded over my purse. Though the temperature in the restaurant is cool, I’m heating up. I’m not sitting much longer, waiting, by myself, watching everyone else enjoy dinner and conversation. I must appear to have been stood up. My throat goes tight. Have I been?
That doesn’t make any sense, I tell myself. I think about lunch with him when our interactions were so natural, super natural in fact. We synched incredibly, like—I watch a caprese salad go by—Beefsteak tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella cheese.
My stomach grumbles. If I watch one more plate of food go by me, I’m ready to launch out of my chair and tackle the waiter.
My lips firm. What the hell. I grab my wrap, yank open my purse, grab my wallet, and drop some bills on the table. With a huff, I stand. I can really pick ’em.
****
Jason
Releasing the strap on my helmet, I remove it and wipe sweat from my forehead. I slip off my heavy protective jacket. The air in the back of the EMS truck still reeks of smoke, even though we left the apartment fire a few minutes ago. The crew got everyone out, with no critical injuries…yet.
I’m riding in the back of the ambulance. We’ve got a frail elderly female suffering from smoke inhalation. She hasn’t been able to tell us much of anything, so we can’t contact anyone. She was found in the apartment hallway with no ID. She’s on oxygen, but we need to find out who she is, and what other medical conditions she may have.
One of the apartment residents said he knew her as May, but he didn’t know her last name.
Gritting my teeth, I retrieve my phone from where I stash it in the truck, spot the time, and groan. It’s 9:12.
My coworker driving the truck calls out. “What’s up, Jas? Something change?”
I shake my head. I hadn’t realized I’d been so loud. I look at the patient again, but she hasn’t stirred. She doesn’t need any more alarms. “No.” I call out. “No change. Just get us there.”
I check my texts, and then swear a blue streak under my breath. My earlier text to Megan never went through!
This fire call came right at the end of my shift, and I knew I was screwed. But once a call comes in, we’re on duty, not stopping to make personal calls, unless it’s a real emergency, and a dinner engagement isn’t that. The real emergency is always where we’re headed. I sent Megan a quick text in the truck, that I was out on a call, and not to leave her house until she heard from me. And now I see it frickin’ didn’t go through. I rub my face with my hand, swallowing a string of oaths.
So much for our Friday night. I knew this could happen today, but I didn’t want to wait until next weekend to see her.
I quickly resend the first text, explaining it never went through. That I’m headed to the hospital and will call her soon. Gnawing my lip, I continue monitoring the elderly woman. Her oxygen numbers are lower than I’d like to see. And she’s restless.
Honestly, so am I. Under my breath, I swear again. I need to talk to Megan. She’s been sitting at the restaurant, waiting, by herself, watching everyone else eat while I don’t show up, and don’t contact her. Although by now, she’s long gone.
“Mark, how close are we?” I call in a low quiet voice.
“
Turning in,” comes the answer.
Chapter Four
Megan
On Monday morning, I arrive at the nursery cranky and tired. Jason called me at 9:37 Friday night. I didn’t answer, not ready to talk to him, or anyone.
I tossed and turned a long time Friday night before falling asleep, so I was tired Saturday, and I found myself having to work to enjoy my friends and the bachelorette party. Which made me madder at Jason. So I didn’t answer his call on Saturday, either. And, of course, the tides and moon conjoined, and I got my time of the month three days early on Sunday. Super weekend.
I walk by the water iris variety Jason bought for his aunt, and for an instant, he’s there with me, a tease in his gaze, an easy smile on his face. I kick an empty plastic pot that’s rolled into the aisle.
Mondays and Tuesdays, I don’t schedule on-site appointments. I use the day to do maintenance in the yard and organize for the week. Today, that’s a good thing because I’m in slow mo this morning. I’m about half way through my iced green chai tea, and picking up my pace, when the shop manager radios me to meet her in the front parking lot.
“Sara just got a call from the neighbor who was giving her grandmother a ride to the hair salon this morning. She found Mrs. Thomson on the kitchen floor. She fell, and she’s in a lot of pain. The ambulance is on its way.” The manager sucks in a breath. “Sara’s getting her purse and keys, but she’s in no condition to get behind the wheel. What’s your schedule today? Can you drive her?”
This news catapults me out of my funk in an eye blink. Sara lives with her grandmother. Nona is her only family. She’s supposed to give away Sara on her wedding day.
Of course I’ll drive Sara to Bradley Park. We can be there in less than fifteen minutes.
The manager stays out front to intercept Sara while I run to get my own car keys.
Sara’s gasping and gulping as we get on the highway. She can’t swallow her sobs.
“Nona’ll be okay,” I tell her, although I can’t know that. “The ambulance is on its way. And she’ll have more people taking care of her when she gets to the hospital.”
All of a sudden, Sara’s choppy wet noises stop, and the air is so still, like Sara has stopped breathing altogether. I take a quick sideways glance at her. She’s staring out her side window at the sycamore trees we are hurtling by.
I take the Bradley Park exit. Just a few turns now and we’re there. At a red light, I take my best friend’s hand. “Sara,” I whisper. “Nona needs you to be strong.”
“I know. I will be.” She shakes off my hand.
The light changes.
“She has dementia,” Sara blurts out. “It’s getting bad. And I haven’t said anything to her doctors.”
This shocks me. I blink but say nothing. I thought Nona and Sara were barreling through all this wedding stuff with the alacrity of professional cage fighters.
I search for something reassuring to say. Nona may have broken a bone, or more than one. “That doesn’t mean she can’t get her bones set, or a new knee or hip, or whatever she needs.”
“The rehab is hard work,” Sara states with a shake of her head.
“I’ve never known Nona to be afraid of hard work.”
“Not if she understands it.” Sara turns to me, her wet mascara producing raccoon eyes. “I’m not sure she’ll understand what the rehab is…or why.”
I breathe in. If her grandmother’s declined that much since the last time I saw her, then Sara’s been keeping in a lot. I park along the street. A Bradley Park EMS truck is in the driveway.
I pull out a tissue from my purse and dab under her eyes. I hand her another.
She blows her nose.
“Let’s go. One step at time. That’s how you get through this. One step at a time.”
Nona is on the living room floor, half on and half off the rug, a small pillow under her head. Her eyes are closed. She’s wearing loose knit pants, and I can’t tell where the damage may be. Two emergency medical guys in their blue shirts and pants kneel on either side of her.
“Nona,” Sara whispers, running to sink down next to her grandmother.
One of the guys looks up.
My knees turn to jelly. I struggle not to collapse on the carpet myself.
Jason takes me in for another heartbeat, and then turns back to Nona.
“I’m her granddaughter,” Sara says. “How is she?”
Jason studies Sara for a moment then catches my gaze.
I read the question in his eyes. Can she handle the news? I nod.
“Your grandmother appears to have a hip fracture.” Jason speaks quietly, keeping his gaze on Nona. “We won’t know for sure until we get her to the hospital for x-rays.”
Sara shudders at Jason’s report. She takes her grandmother’s hand.
“Does she take anything other than blood pressure medicine?” Jason asks. “The neighbor mentioned that.”
Sara shakes her head quickly. “No.”
Jason exchanges a glance with the other paramedic.
“See if she’ll take something for the pain,” his partner responds.
“Yes.”
The elderly woman’s eyes open for a moment to gaze at her granddaughter.
From my vantage point, I can’t tell if there is any recognition. I feel sick to my stomach. I cover my mouth with my hand, knowing Sara can’t see me.
Nona closes her eyes again.
“We’ll move her in a few minutes, after you’ve sat with her,” Jason says.
“She squeezed my hand,” Sara whispers and glances up at me. “Tell him.”
I wrinkle my brow. Tell him what?
“Tell him. What I told you in the car.” Sara looks up at me again, her eyes deep with emotion. “Please, Megan, go in the kitchen and tell him.”
Jason stands.
I take a deep breath. Ah. She’s right. I indicate with my hand the doorway to the kitchen.
He follows me into the next room.
There’s something reassuring about his strong presence behind me, his uniform, his professional manner. And totally hot. Please help me. I know Sara’s grandmother is out there on the floor, and I’m a wreck about it, but I can’t turn off what happens to me around Jason.
I grab a chair from the kitchen table and sit. Between Sara’s anguish, Mrs. Thomson’s injury, and Jason’s competence, I’m a mish mash of nerves.
Jason leans back against the counter, and waits.
I take a deep breath. “Nona, ah, Mrs. Thomson, has dementia. Sara just told me. Sounds like it’s pretty advanced.”
Folding his arms in front of him, he nods.
“She hasn’t told the doctors anything about her grandmother’s loss of memory.”
Jason’s blue gaze is thoughtful. “That may help her right now.”
“Help her?” I look up at him.
“Can’t know until she gets x-rays, but if she’s broken her hip, she’ll be in extreme pain when we move her onto the stretcher. You may want to take your friend outside.”
“Sara wouldn’t stand for that. She’ll stay.”
He nods again. “But once the pain’s managed, if, because of the dementia, she doesn’t understand she’s broken her hip, she may be in reasonably good spirits.”
The kindness behind this observation fills me with warmth. I look at him. “Kind of a backwards positive?”
He thrusts his hands into his pockets and gives me a small crooked smile. “Something like that.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
“I’m sorry you got stuck at the restaurant without me.” He gives a quick, almost imperceptible shake of his head. “I had no idea you didn’t get my text. I was on a long call.”
“I know. I acted like a horse’s back end.”
He grins. “Maybe a little.” He cocks his head, his gaze sparking. “Should I be glad you didn’t answer your phone?”
“Probably.” I grimace at myself, remembering my angry thoughts in the restaurant.
“Okay.” I could get seriously, forever lost in those blue eyes. I break our gaze, feeling my pulse kick higher.
“Let’s go take care of your friend and her grandmother,” he says.
Chapter Five
Jason
I finish my shift—the station is quiet overnight, and I get a fair amount of sleep—then head home to take a shower. I already know I’m going to the nursery this morning. I’ll get Aunt Dee her plants and see Megan. Talk in person. No more misses over the phone. I get the impression she’s usually on site in the mornings.
As I’m walking through the nursery building toward the ponds, I’m surprised Sara is behind her counter by the cut flowers.
She looks up as I walk over. “I know. What am I doing here, right?”
“That did cross my mind. How’s your grandmother?”
“She had hip-replacement surgery late yesterday.” She sniffs. “Everything went well. I stayed with her last night.”
“That’s good the surgery’s behind her.” I watch her for a beat. She’s handling this.
She rips open a bag of those little candy hearts and pours half the bag in the space between two vases nested inside each other. There’s a finished project on the counter, yellow roses arranged in a Valentine candy vase.
“I needed to get out of the hospital for a while. She was sleeping when I left.” She blinks a few times, and then shakes her head hard. Candy hearts spill over the side of the container onto the counter. She stares at them for several seconds before spreading them out in front of her.
“The people at the hospital are good. They’ll take care of her,” I say as my parting remark.
“I know. Thank you for all you did yesterday.”
Nodding, I turn to leave.
“Jason.”
I turn back.
“Are you going out in the yard to see Megan?”
“I was.” I pause, my stomach turning over. Why is she asking? “Is she here?”