Love - From His Point Of View!: Meeting at Midnight

“That’s your neighbor, right? She stopped by yesterday to see how you were doing.”

“She keeps kids.” That still didn’t sit too well with me. I didn’t want Zach raised by anyone other than family. But Mrs. Bradshaw was a good woman, and he liked it there. As Gwen often pointed out, at Mrs. Bradshaw’s he had other kids to play with, most notably a set of twins. “You never did answer my question.”

“Your…oh. About children.” Doofus scampered back in, the whole back half of his body wagging with delight over his performance. She shut the door and knelt to praise and pat. “Nope, no kids of my own. No stepchildren, nieces or nephews, either. I’ve never been married, and I was an only child.”

So was Gwen. Putting the two women together in my mind made me uncomfortable. I shifted, stretching out my bad leg. “I guess that would be lonely, being an only child.”

“I had my fantasies about having a brother or sister when I was growing up. But a lot of people from big families fantasize about being an only, I think. Didn’t you?”

“No more than four or five times a day. Especially when Charlie and Annie were teenagers. Not that Annie got into any real trouble, but she was a girl. There’s so much stuff about being a girl at that age…” I shook my head. “I wanted to lock her up or send her to a convent. Raising girls is scary.”

“She’s quite a bit younger than you, I gather.”

“Eleven years, yeah. She’s the youngest.” I hadn’t done right by Annie. For years she’d had a kind of phobia about leaving Highpoint, and I hadn’t even realized it—probably because I’d liked having her around too much to question why she’d moved back home and stayed. Jack had known, though. He’d married her and taken her off to see the world, one dirtpoor village at a time. And she loved it. I frowned at my coffee cup.

“More coffee?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks. Ah…jeans probably won’t work with this stupid knee. There ought to be a pair of sweats in the bottom left drawer of my dresser, though. If you’d get them, I can have my shower in the downstairs bathroom, then get dressed.”

“You are not—” she started, then stopped, shaking her head. “Who’d have thought you’d be so devious?”

I scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m supposed to fuss at you, remind you of what the doctor said, et cetera. In the end, you’ll give up on the shower, and I’m supposed to concede that you can get dressed. Which is what you really want.”

“Are you sure you don’t have brothers?”

She chuckled. “Nary a one.”

Yet she obviously knew men. Well, she’d probably had plenty of opportunity to observe my half of the species. That showgirl’s body would get any man’s attention. Then he’d get hooked by that slow smile, or the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, laughing all by themselves. “You aren’t giving me a hard time about getting dressed,” I observed.

“Not much point. I knew you’d be champing at the bit today. You do realize I’ll have to help you, don’t you?”

“Like hell you will.”

She just looked at me. For once, even her eyebrows didn’t comment.

At last I sighed. “The shirt. I’ll need help with that. And the sling.”

“I could give you a sponge bath first.”

A visceral flash hit me—her hands running a warm, soapy washcloth along my arm to my shoulder, then down my chest…she’d be bending over me, bringing those magnificent breasts close enough to…“No, you can’t.”

Like I said, I know my limits.

Four

I couldn’t reach my left foot. I glared at my knee, washcloth in hand.

I was sitting on the toilet with the lid down. I’d managed a spit bath of sorts, pulled on my shorts and sweatpants…and one sock. I couldn’t get my left sock on. And I couldn’t wash my own damned foot.

Everything throbbed—head, shoulder, knee. My feet were cold. I was going to have to ask for help.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” I growled.

“Thought you might be ready for a cup of coffee,” Seely said through the door. “And an extra hand. As I recall, I had the devil of a time with shoes and socks when my wrist was broken.”

I sighed. “It’s unlocked. How did you break your wrist?”

The door swung open. “I wasn’t a very coordinated child. Fell from the monkey bars when I was seven. Daisy had to do everything for me at first, which sorely offended my dignity. Here.” She held out a tall walking stick. “Duncan dug this up in the attic yesterday. He thought you might be able to use it.”

I put down the washcloth and took the stick. It was made of walnut, a dark, burled wood that felt smooth and cool to my fingers. “How about that.” I smiled, bemused. “I’d forgotten all about this thing. Funny. I must have seen my father use it a hundred times, but the one time that floated into my head just now…”

“Yes?” She set the mug on the tiny bit of counter next to the sink.

“We were in Crete. Me and my dad, that is. Annie was only a month old, so my mom wasn’t able to go with my dad that year.” I leaned the stick against the wall. There wasn’t really room for it in this little scrap of a bathroom, but it made me feel good to have it near. “We’d climbed this little rise overlooking the dig, and he was using his stick to point out a city that didn’t exist anymore. All I saw was this reddish maze of crumbling walls in the section that had been excavated. He saw so much more—the granary, the wide, dusty street leading to the temple. Maybe even the people on that street.”

“He had vision. It sounds like a good memory.”

“Yeah.” I thought about how excited I’d been to go with him. How hard I’d tried to see what he did…and failed. “It was the first time I’d gone with him. I guess that’s why that memory sticks out.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven. It was summer, of course. I remember—hey!”

She’d knelt and was reaching for my foot. “Must have been hot.”

“Blazing. You don’t have to do that.” I tried to retrieve my foot without creating a tug-of-war.

“Quit that or I’ll tickle you.” She ran the washcloth over my sole. “I’ll admit I’m not a real nurse, but I’m pretty sure this sort of thing is part of the job.”

I scowled. This was every bit as embarrassing as I’d thought it would be. “No, you’re a paramedic. So why aren’t you working as one?”

“Because I couldn’t hack it.” She grabbed the towel. “So why is your brother married to your son’s mother instead of you?”

Sucker-punched. I hadn’t seen that one coming, and for a second couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She dried my foot carefully, giving me the top of her head to look at instead of her face. Even with her hair pulled back, her hair was all crinkly, like a shallow stream wiggling over rocks.

Or like Doofus wiggling all over even when he was trying to stand still. I sighed. I felt as if I’d just kicked a puppy—and gotten bitten for it. “Don’t apologize. I asked for it. I jabbed at you because I don’t like needing help for every little thing. Can’t complain if you jab back.”

“Okay. Hand me your socks, will you?”

I did, and she pulled a sock on my left foot. It felt weird to sit there while she did that. “I’m surprised none of the busybodies you talked to yesterday filled you in about me and Gwen.”

Seely looked up then, her face all smoothed out. “I really am sorry. I’m not usually such a bitch.”