Window on the Bay

by Debbie Macomber

  At least once a week I took a late lunch to meet my daughter, Victoria, who worked for an engineering firm as an administrative assistant. Her office was two blocks from the library. She’d married Jonathan, her college sweetheart, and was doing well. Her husband was an engineer and worked for the state. Our weekly lunches were a good way for us to stay connected. Tori and I had always been close. My daughter was everything to me. I’d mourned with her over a miscarriage a little over a year ago now. We were both bitterly disappointed when she lost the baby.

  Tori had already been seated by the time I arrived. She got a tabletop by the window and was reading over the menu. Seeing that I ordered the same salad every week, I didn’t need to look at mine.

  Sitting down across from her, I saw that she’d already ordered my glass of iced tea. Cold tea in the summers and autumn, and hot tea for winter and spring. If nothing else, I was consistent.

  “I heard about Jenna’s mom.”

  My surprise must have shown, because Tori quickly added, “Allie posted on Facebook that her grandmother broke her hip. She asked for prayers.”

  That explained it.

  “I was with Jenna when she got the call,” I said, remembering how shaken my friend had been at the news. We’d talked briefly earlier in the morning, and she’d given me the latest update.

  “Is Carol going to be all right?”

  “I think so. The surgery appears to have been a success, although she’ll need to be in a rehab facility for some time.”

  I could tell by Jenna’s voice that she was exhausted. It’d been a long night for her. Although our call was early, Jenna was already back at the hospital checking on her mother. Carol was still recovering from the effects of the anesthesia. Because of the length of the surgery, it could be a few days before Carol was completely herself again.

  The server approached the table, looked at me, and said, “The usual?”

  “Please.”

  “And you?” she said, turning her attention to Tori.

  “I’ll have a bowl of the tomato bisque.”

  “Is that all?” I asked Tori. My daughter always had a good appetite. She was blessed with a great metabolism and didn’t need to watch her weight; she was already too thin as it was, in my opinion.

  “That’s all. I have a queasy stomach.”

  I waited until the server left the table before I questioned my daughter. “Your stomach’s been acting up? Have you seen a doctor?”

  My daughter grinned and shook her head. “It’s nothing, Mom, probably just something I ate last night.”

  A loud boom sounded from the construction site across the street, like something had crashed to the ground. I glanced out the window to see what had happened. To my surprise, I saw someone who looked like Logan, sitting in a circle with a group of other workers. He was chatting with the others and had his lunchbox open. He’d once mentioned that he was a union plumber.

  “What was that?” Tori asked.

  I shrugged but didn’t look away. Seeing Logan made me smile as I watched him interact with his coworkers and saw the laughter they were all sharing.

  “You see someone you know?” Tori asked.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “No one special. Just a library patron I recognize.”

  “Across the street?”

  “Yeah. See the guy with the hard hat?”

  “Mom,” Tori teased. “They’re all wearing hard hats.”

  She was right. “The yellow hard hat—the guy in the middle of the group.”

  When I glanced back, Tori gave me an inquisitive look.

  “What?” I asked, still watching Logan. I’d heard him laugh once in the library and I’d enjoyed the hearty sound of it. He had the sort of laugh that came from the belly, loud and boisterous. By all that was right, I should have asked him to hold down the noise. I didn’t, because I’d enjoyed listening to him. He’d made me smile, too.

  “That guy stops in at the library?” Tori didn’t sound like she believed me.

  “Every Monday. He comes to me for recommendations, and I’ve been selecting books that I believe he’ll like.”

  Tori raised her delicately shaped brows, looking for me to elaborate.

  “He calls me Marian the Librarian, which annoys me…which is why he does it.” I shook my head and unwillingly pulled my gaze away from him. Viewing Logan in his element was a treat. It was easy to see that he was well liked and that his crew looked up to him.

  “Mom,” Tori said seriously. “Are you interested in this guy?”

  “In Logan?” I immediately shook my head, quickly denying any such possibility. It embarrassed me that Tori had seen through me so easily. If she was able to, then perhaps Logan would, too.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Tori, please, be sensible. We’re nothing alike. For all I know, he could be married and have a dozen children.” Logan didn’t wear a wedding band. Okay, I’d looked. That didn’t mean anything. I knew men in construction often didn’t wear jewelry, for safety reasons.

  “You could ask him.”

  “Of course I could, but I won’t.”

  “Why not? You’re an attractive, smart woman.”

  It was gratifying that my daughter saw me in that light. “Thanks, honey, but it might give him the wrong impression.”

  “When was the last time you went out on a date?” My daughter wasn’t going to let this go easily.

  “Two weeks ago. It was a blind date; I should have known better than to agree. Blind dates always seem to end badly.”

  “Red light?”

  “Red light,” I confirmed. “I learned early into our dinner that he was separated but still married.” Like Jenna, I’d dated my fair share of divorced men. Being divorced myself, I didn’t hold a failed marriage against anyone. But I had a hard-and-fast rule that I was unwilling to bend: I wasn’t willing to get involved until after the divorce was finalized.

  Over the years, I’d learned I didn’t need a man in my life. That didn’t mean I wasn’t open to a relationship. I knew Jenna felt the same way; otherwise, we wouldn’t be putting ourselves out there.

  One of my problems when it came to dating was my career choice. There simply weren’t as many opportunities to meet men at a library. A lot of people had encouraged me to try the online-dating thing. That had never appealed to me, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth considering. I just might.

  “You shouldn’t let a few bad experiences influence you,” my daughter said.

  It was more than a few, although I didn’t say that. I’d experienced more red lights than I cared to mention. At this point in my life it was difficult; not that I was surrendering to the disappointments. At the same time, I wasn’t exactly on the prowl. I’d become complacent, content with my own company. An occasional night out with friends was enough to get me by.

  “I’m good, Tori. A few bad experiences haven’t ruined me.”

  “Mom, there’re a handful of websites out there to help women your age meet single men.”

  I wasn’t sure how we’d let our lunch get sidetracked onto my love life, or lack thereof. I stared blankly back at her, unwilling to get drawn into this debate.

  “Did I tell you Jenna and I have decided to take a trip to Paris next spring?” This was a blatant effort on my part to change the subject.

  “Mom, I’m serious,” Tori said.

  “So am I. Now, let’s change the subject.” I was more than happy to see my salad arrive.

  “Did Dad forever scar you?” Tori asked, frowning.

  It appeared my daughter hadn’t taken the hint. “Good heavens, no. Your father and I were both too young to know what we were doing. We never should have married. I’m grateful we divorced when we did. His current wife is a much better fit than I was. He’s happy. You know that.”
r />   “But are you happy?” Tori pressed.

  “Of course I am.” Without conscious thought, I looked across the street again to the construction site. Logan had finished his lunch and was tightening the lid on his steel thermos. He must have felt my scrutiny, because he glanced up and stared directly at me. A ready smile came over him and he nodded, letting me know he’d seen me. Embarrassed, I quickly looked away, uncomfortable to be caught watching him.

  Tori was too busy doctoring her soup to have noticed the nonverbal exchange between Logan and me.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I whispered, surprising myself.

  “You mean you’ll check out those websites?” Tori said, not bothering to hide her enthusiasm. “I can send you a few suggestions and links, if you’d like.”

  I reached for my fork and speared a slice of avocado while I mulled this over. “I’ll talk to Jenna and see if she’s game to give online dating a try.”

  “You should do this with or without Jenna. I know she’s your best friend, but this is for you, Mom. Do it for you.”

  I nodded, although I didn’t totally understand what I was agreeing to or even why. My gut told me it was a mistake, but I wasn’t listening to my gut. Here I was listening to the wisdom of my twenty-three-year-old daughter, who had far more dating experience than I’d ever had.

  * * *

  —

  Once I was home from work, I called Jenna, wanting to check on her mother.

  “The kids take the news okay?”

  “Paul was fine, but as I suspected, Allie was upset and wanted to race to the hospital. I had to talk her out of it.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Okay. I was worried about the surgery, but everything seems to have gone well.”

  I heard Jenna’s car door close.

  “Listen, I’m at the hospital now. I’ll text you later.”

  “Give your mom my love and tell her I’ll be by to see her soon.”

  “Will do.”

  “Jenna,” I hurriedly said, not wanting to delay her, “I had lunch with Tori today. She had an idea I’d like to bounce off you later.”

  “Tell me now,” Jenna insisted. “I’m curious.”

  Already, I was regretting that I’d brought up the subject. “Tori suggested I check out one of those online dating sites. I said I’d consider it. Are you game?”

  Jenna didn’t hesitate. “Nope. I’ve got an empty nest and I’m not about to fill it up with a man. I can run around the house naked if I want. Have ice cream for dinner. Lounge around in my PJs without worrying one of Allie’s guy friends is going to show. You aren’t serious about this, are you?”

  “Not really,” I said, relieved. Like Jenna, I didn’t need or want a man cluttering up my life. “That settles it.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Jenna

  I’d made an early-morning visit to check on Mom and stayed about thirty minutes. She remained peacefully asleep while I was there. By the time I returned, it was late afternoon and I felt like I’d been running a marathon all day.

  My day had been spent getting the things Mom would want from the house: her robe and other personal items. The feral gray-and-white cat she fed, named Mr. Bones, was at the back door, looking for his breakfast. He was an ungrateful irritation, and hissed at me while I filled his bowl. I canceled her newspaper and mail online.

  * * *

  —

  By the time I arrived back at the hospital it was much later than I’d intended, and my nerves were frazzled. I’d assumed I would be able to join her for dinner, but it was after six and the hospital volunteers had already started clearing the dinner trays.

  When I entered her room, I was relieved to find Mom awake. She rolled her head and stared at me blankly. It was as if she didn’t know who I was.

  “Mom?” I whispered, setting aside the things I’d collected for her. I gently took her hand in mine.

  “Jenna?” Her eyes filled with questions as she held my look. “What’s happened to me?”

  “You fell, remember?”

  “Yes, yes…oh dear. I lost my balance on the steps and then all those people came and…after that, everything is all messed up in my head.”

  “You broke your hip and had surgery. Don’t worry about being confused. It’s normal after surgery.”

  “Is it?”

  Being a nurse, I knew anesthesia was hard on everyone, especially those who were older. Mom was disoriented, which, under the circumstances, was to be expected, especially since the surgery had taken several hours. The longer she was under, the longer it would take to clear her mind.

  “Are you in pain?” I knew she would heal faster if she didn’t have to deal with discomfort.

  “I’m tired,” she replied, not answering my question. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “They keep wanting me to get out of bed…I don’t understand all this. It’s very confusing.” Her eyes drifted closed.

  “Rest,” I whispered, wishing there was more I could do to reassure her. Sleep was what she needed most. I patted her hand and sighed when I noticed she hadn’t eaten anything off her dinner tray.

  Taking a deep breath, I sat down in the chair next to her bed and reached for my phone, answering text messages from my brother and both of my children. I updated them on Mom’s condition and answered emails. Before I was finished, Allie texted me back.

  When I saw Grams, she thought I was you.

  It’s from the effects of the anesthesia. She’ll be fine in a few days. Don’t worry.

  The return text message from my son was short and to the point. Typical Paul.

  Keep me updated. Give Grams my love.

  While she was sleeping, I went down to the cafeteria and got a latte and an apple. Nothing else looked appetizing. The latte disguised the bitter taste of the hospital coffee, and the apple gave me something to snack on.

  It was almost seven by the time I returned to Mom’s room. She was still sleeping, and I didn’t know if I would stay much longer. I’d check on her before my shift in the ICU in the morning. I hoped it would be a quiet day. On my last shift, three victims, all from the same family, were sent to the unit following a car crash. The staff had been racing during the entire shift. We lost the husband and the wife was barely hanging on. The ten-year-old, although badly injured, looked like he would make it.

  “Sleep well, Mom,” I said quietly, gently holding her hand. “Remember when I was a kid and you used to tell me not to let the bedbugs bite?”

  “You had bedbugs?” Dr. Lancaster’s voice startled me, coming from the doorway. I resisted turning around to face him until I could find the means to paint a smile on my face.

  He wore a three-quarter-length white coat and a stethoscope wrapped around his neck. He was every inch the surgeon. As I’d noted earlier, he wasn’t particularly handsome, but I was thankful for his honesty and direct approach after surgery. I appreciated a physician who didn’t sugarcoat the truth.

  “Nurse Jenna,” he said with a nod, acknowledging my presence.

  “Dr. Lancaster,” I returned.

  “I see that your mother is resting comfortably.”

  “She’s disoriented and confused,” I said.

  “Her mind will clear.”

  “Yes, I know, but…but this is my mother.” I’d been quick to reassure my brother and children that all was well. What surprised me was how unnerved I felt seeing my mother incapacitated and in this condition. She’d barely recognized me, her own daughter.

  He walked to the computer that was mounted close to the window and typed in his code, then read over the notes the staff had entered that day. “Good…she was up and walking and did well. I like my patients to get on their feet as quickly as possible.”

  “I wish I’d been here to help,” I said with regret. The day had evaporated
on me.

  Dr. Lancaster continued to read the computer screen. “For her age, your mother is in relatively good health. Her heart is in fine shape and her bones are those of a woman ten years younger.”

  “She walks every day…or, I should say, she used to before my dad died. This is going to set her back.” I didn’t know how Mom would do in a rehab facility. She would hate being away from her home and not having all that was familiar close at hand.

  “Your mother has a strong will. It won’t take her long to bounce back.”

  He sounded confident, and it made me wonder how he’d know that. He acted like he knew what he was talking about, but he was the surgeon, not the physical therapist.

  As if reading my mind, he answered my concerns. “I was here when she first got to her feet. Your mother has grit. You’re worrying unnecessarily.”

  The fact that he’d been with Mom when she first stood was unexpected. I didn’t know of a single surgeon who made a practice of doing anything more than checking the incision after surgery. Dr. Rowan Lancaster had been there with my mother, and I hadn’t. Because I felt guilty, I felt a need to explain.

  “I wanted to be here, I honestly did…but there was Mr. Bones to feed, and…”

  “Who is Mr. Bones?”

  “Mom’s cat. Technically, he isn’t anyone’s cat. He’s feral and lets Mom feed him. She’s the one who named him Mr. Bones, because when she found him he was skin and bones. My mother is like that. It’s remarkable that she’s only feeding one cat, not a dozen. She has a weakness for animals.”

  Rowan Lancaster grinned, and for just an instant I was mesmerized by his smile. It took me off guard. His entire countenance changed; his eyes lit up with warmth, and I realized there was more to this man than I’d suspected. For the life of me I couldn’t look away, and neither could he. My tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of my mouth. Rowan—when did I start thinking of him as Rowan, rather than Dr. Lancaster?—was the first one to break eye contact. Instantly, I could breathe again.