A Dad For Charlie

“I keep forgetting,” Mrs. Hastings grumbled. “Darned pills are a nuisance. Too many of them. Makes me feel like one of those candy dispensers at the grocery store.”

“We talked about this, remember?” Paige scanned the room looking for the container of medication bottles Mrs. Hastings had insisted on maintaining herself. “Taking them on and off only makes you feel worse. Now, I’m going to get your kit and we’re going to test your blood. Then we’ll decide if you’re going to the hospital or not.”

When Mrs. Hastings nodded and closed her eyes again, Paige hurried into the kitchen and pulled open the cabinet over the sink. “Do you know if she passed out?” she asked Fletch.

“Not while I’ve been here. She seemed fine when she answered the door, then started to sway. I helped her to her chair.”

“Deputy Hero,” Paige said with a smile as she scanned the medication bottles. “A fall would have made matters worse. You probably got here just in time.” She found the daily pill organizers she’d purchased last week still in their packaging.

“Looks like you know what you’re doing,” Fletch said. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Diabetes,” Paige murmured. “And she has some blood pressure issues.” Neither of which were helped by missed dosages.

“I can hear every word you’re saying!” Mrs. Hastings called weakly.

“I’m sure you can. Where’s your testing kit, Mrs. Hastings?” Paige asked.

“By my bed,” was the response after a long sigh. “Darn thing makes my fingers hurt, and I can’t crochet with hurt fingers. I’ve got blankets to make for the holiday bazaar. No time for aches and pains.”

“I’ll get it.” Fletch disappeared out the second kitchen door and into the back bedroom.

“Nice young man,” Mrs. Hastings told Paige as she pulled up a chair beside the older woman. “Always been a good boy, that Fletcher Bradley. Took good care of his sister growing up. And his grandpa. He’ll make some young woman a nice husband.”

“I’m sure he will.” Paige hoped Mrs. Hastings kept her eyes closed long enough so as not to see the blush in Paige’s cheeks. The last thing she needed was for someone—especially this someone—playing matchmaker. “I thought we had a deal. I come for tea once a week and you take your medicine.”

“I’m an old woman. I forget things.”

“Old I’ll give you, but your memory is just fine.” Paige opened one of the bottles and dumped the pills into her palm. A quick count had her own heart jumping double time. Frustration bubbled in Paige’s blood. Mrs. Hastings hadn’t taken her pills in almost a week.

“Here.” Fletch approached from behind, handing the black bag over. Paige quickly opened it, readied the apparatus and clicked the springed needle against the side of Mrs. Hastings’s thumb.

“Ow.” Mrs. Hastings jumped, her brows drawing together.

“You’ve been testing on the pads of your fingers again.” Paige examined the faded black-and-blue marks. “You’re supposed to test on the sides so it won’t hurt after.” She may as well have been talking to herself given the thinning of Mrs. Hastings’s lips. When the readout blinked fifty, Paige’s training kicked in. “Fletch, see if there’s any orange juice in the fridge, please. If not, a soda or anything with high sugar in it.”

“Yeah.”

What Paige wouldn’t give for a stethoscope or blood pressure cuff. She reached for the old woman’s hand and took her pulse again, counting down the unending seconds until she felt a steadier beat.

“Here.” Fletch handed her a glass of orange juice. “Should I call the ambulance?”

“That depends.” Paige urged Mrs. Hastings to drink. “Let’s give this a few minutes and see how she feels. Okay? Nice and slow. There you go.” She smoothed Mrs. Hastings’s hair back from her face.

Mrs. Hastings nodded, her trembling hands taking the glass from Paige as she did as she was told.

Paige set the medications out on the table and filled the organizer, something she should have done in the first place.

“Your hovering isn’t going to make me feel any better, young man,” Mrs. Hastings said in a stronger tone. “You go fix my locks like you said you would.”

“Ma’am.” Fletch nodded but stepped back to look at Paige, who added her own gesture of encouragement as the concern melted from his gaze.

“I’ll call if we need you.” Paige pulled Mrs. Hastings’s free hand toward her and dropped today’s pills into her wrinkled palm. “Take them, please.”

“Don’t need a babysitter.”

“Apparently you do,” Paige said with a forced lightness of tone. Dealing with elderly patients took care and patience. Fighting them did no good and often created more problems than solutions. “I think you did this just to get me back here more frequently.”

Mrs. Hastings smirked, opened her now-clear eyes. “You have enough on your plate without worrying about an old woman.”

“I’m not worrying about an old woman—I’m worrying about my friend. Besides, Charlie would never forgive me if something happened to you. She loves coming here. Now take them, please.” She watched, satisfied when Mrs. Hastings followed instructions. “I’m going to go into the kitchen to finish fixing our tea. And if you’re feeling better in a few minutes, I’ll bring you one of the blueberry scones Charlie helped me bake yesterday.”

“Would be nice to see your Charlie again. You’re a good girl, Paige.” Mrs. Hastings caught hold of her hand as Paige got up. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

“You’re nothing of the sort. Now, you just rest and I’ll be back in a bit.” Paige returned to the kitchen and turned the kettle back on, sparing a glance over her shoulder to Fletch as he replaced the dead bolt on the back door. “It’s a good thing you were here.”

“Looks like.” Fletch shook his head. “Reminds me of my grandfather. They can seem so...”

“Fragile.” Paige nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“You were very good with her.”

“I’ve had some experience with patie—um, situations like hers.” Paige bit the inside of her cheek and reminded herself to choose her words more carefully. “An elderly neighbor, where we lived before, had similar issues. Charlie and I used to check on her.” Had it really been over a year since she’d seen or spoken to Mrs. Brennan? Paige could only hope one of her grandchildren had stepped up to oversee her care.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you talk about your past.” Fletch angled his screwdriver differently to pop the old lock off. “So much for my theory you and Charlie sprung out of someone’s flower bed.”

“I’m not one to dwell on what happened before.” Paige’s heart jumped in her chest. She spent most of her down hours doing just that. Could she be around the man for more than five minutes without lying? “How are you doing, Mrs. Hastings?” she called over her shoulder.

“I’m not feeling fragile, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

Paige chuckled. Yeah, Mrs. Hastings wouldn’t be needing a ride to the hospital today.

“Fletch, I expect you to stay for tea once you’re done with those locks,” Mrs. Hastings called.

Fletch’s cheeks went red. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this side of you before.” Nor had Paige ever seen him look so uncomfortable or out of his element. She found it more charming than she expected.

“Once my high school principal, always my high school principal.” He bent down to retrieve the new lock and screw it into place. “I swear, I step foot inside this house and I’m a teenager again.”

Paige poured the hot water into the teapot to warm it before brewing—a lesson she’d received on her first visit a few months before. “It’s a nice problem to have.” She rose up on her toes to look out into the overgrown yard and spotted a collection of tools resting against the side of the house she didn’t remember seeing before. “Mrs. Hastings, have you been doing yard work?”

“Isn’t going to get done on its own. Stop snooping on me.”

Fletch leaned out the back door for a quick look, then shook his head.

“I hate weeds!” Mrs. Hastings announced.

“Right. Weed hater. Adding that to the list.” Paige pulled out her phone and tapped open her calendar, looking through for a spare few hours. “I get off from the diner early on Thursday, Mrs. Hastings. I can bring you an early dinner if you’d like.” And while she was there she could tackle some of that yard work.