Worth the Fall

by Mara Jacobs

  Petey could see Alison warring with wanting him out of there—wanting him gone, in general—and her father’s enjoyment. She finally shrugged, turned around and pulled the guest chair up to the side of the bed and sat down.

  “I’ve got nowhere better to go,” Petey said and made a show of reclining a little and putting his hands behind his head. Shit…even that hurt.

  “Sherry’s coming in tomorrow. I’m going to pick her up at the airport and bring her to the house to see Mom. Then she’ll have your car to come see you tomorrow evening.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. Is she bringing the babies?”

  Petey watched Alison open then shut her mouth, a sadness coming to her face, which she quickly tried to hide. Al’s sisters were much older and had grown kids of their own. “No, Dad, the babies are grown up. Jake got married two years ago. And Taylor just graduated from college last spring. They’re both out east, like Sherry.”

  Charles Jukuri looked at his daughter with concentration, then looked over to the wall where someone—it had to have been Al, right?—had blown up a family photo of the Jukuri clan from whenever they’d last been together.

  The photo looked to be a few years old, with Mr. Jukuri looking much healthier than he did now. It’d been taking in the summertime on the front lawn of what had been the old Jukuri cabin. Alison had taken it over about ten years ago and slowly refurbished the whole thing. It was on the small side, but it was cozy and on the lake.

  And had no stairs.

  “Yes, that’s right. Sherry sent us video of Taylor’s graduation from Rutgers.”

  “Yes, yes she did,” Alison answered her father with near glee in her voice at her father’s memory of something that happened less than a year ago.

  And suddenly, sitting in a wheelchair with only a few months before he was whole again—even though he would be out of work—Petey felt like a total shit for the feelings of self-pity he’d been having since waking up after surgery.

  “Anyway,” she went on kind of quickly, as if trying to cram things in during this lucid moment. “Sherry’s able to stay for a whole month with Mom.”

  “That will be a nice break for you, Alison. You’ve done so much.”

  Had she? He’d had a sense of things going downhill with her parents when he was home last summer, but hadn’t really digested how much. Or how bad.

  She waved her father’s statement away with a flick of her little hand. “It looks like we’ll be able to get Mom moved into the Ridges during the time that Sherry’s here. In the type of apartment we all talked about. Do you remember that?”

  He nodded. “And when will I be able to join her there?” There was a fear in his voice, like maybe she’d tell him he wouldn’t be able to join his wife in the assisted-living facility.

  “Soon, we hope. In fact, Dr. Simms mentioned that your infection seemed to be responding to the meds better than he hoped. You might even beat Mom to your new place.”

  “And the house? You’ll sell the house?”

  She looked down at her lap, seeming to gather her thoughts. Petey was both riveted to the family scene and embarrassed that he hadn’t left. He hadn’t realized these were the types of things Mr. Jukuri would want to discuss because he was having a good moment.

  God, this could so easily be him in only twenty or thirty years, with as many concussions as he’d had on the ice and the links they were making between NFL players with several concussions and early-onset dementia. He’d thought about it. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to retire after this season. But holy shit, the thought of his children having to remind him of important things like Alison was doing now?

  Assuming he ever had children.

  He started to have a mini flash of panic, so he tried to zero in on what Alison was saying so he wouldn’t think about himself.

  “That’s what you both wanted when it got to this point. But we don’t have to, I can—”

  “Yes. Sell the house. I remember the plans your mother and I made. We don’t want to be a burden on you, Alison. And we want to be together if possible. They were sound plans then, no reason to change them now.” He gave Alison a questioning look. “Is there?”

  The man was looking for hope. Looking for Alison to tell him the situation was so much better than they’d planned for.

  She ducked her head, her short hair falling like a curtain over her eyes, only her chin visible. Then she looked at her father straight on and said, “No. There’s no reason to change the plans you and Mom made.”

  She had balls and didn’t hide. Never had. It was a quality that he both admired and was irritated by, depending on the day.

  They talked some more about lesser things, then she gathered up her things, kissed her father goodbye, and said she’d be back that evening to see him again.

  Jesus, she was making two trips a day to see him, plus her mother, plus her patient load? He couldn’t remember if Lizzie’d mentioned if Alison was still teaching at Tech or not. Probably not with all she had going on.

  Again, sitting in a wheelchair for a couple of days and lying around in bed for a few weeks was starting to seem pretty good.

  After Alison left, he chatted hockey with her dad for a little while longer and, when it was getting close to the time his mother was expected to show, he started to say his goodbyes. As he maneuvered the wheelchair past the bed, Mr. Jukuri reached out to stop him. He leaned over and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, “I’ve seen how you look at her, you know.”

  Fuck. For years he’d masked how he looked at Alison, had practically made a science of it, only to have her father call him on it now?

  “Don’t worry, she can’t tell.” Thank God. “But I can.” Oh, shit.

  Was it polite to burn rubber out of an old man’s hospital room? “Listen, Mr. J, I think you’ve got it—”

  “I’m telling you, Jimmy, Sally’s the type of girl you just have to take charge with.”

  Oh. Okay. So, was this better or worse? And how was he supposed to respond? And did Mr. J. really know “Sally”? She would eat alive any man who tried to control her.

  “Um, yeah, I know, but….”

  Mr. Jukuri took his hand from Petey’s arm and waved it with more strength than he’d have guessed the old man had.

  “See what I mean? ‘Um, yeah.’ That’s not the type of thing that’s going to get her. She needs somebody just as strong as she is, someone who will peel off that armor she’s built around herself.” He pointed a bony finger at Petey. “I’m telling you, Jimmy, Sally is not the type of girl you steal kisses from.”

  Petey knew that.

  “She’s the type of girl you take kisses from.”

  Petey didn’t know that.

  But he wouldn’t mind finding out.

  Six

  Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

  ~ Carl Gustav Jung

  Lizzie stood in the doorway to Alison’s bedroom and laughed at Petey, who had just been tucked into bed by his mother like he was a toddler. “Oh, God, I didn’t think Alison even owned pink sheets. I’m pretty sure she bought them just to mess with you.”

  He had no doubt of that.

  His mother and Lizzie had picked him up from the hospital and brought him to Alison’s cottage, where they found the door unlocked, flowers on the kitchen table and a note stating she wanted Petey to take her room because of the television in there.

  She’d put a PS on the note that had cracked his mom and Lizzie up—”Stay out of my panty drawer, perv.”

  It made sense for him to stay in her room. It was closer to the kitchen and the bathroom, and there was the television bonus. But a flicker of…something…went through him at the thought of spending time in her bed. Until he quickly realized she’d moved her personal things down the hall to the other bedroom.

  And that she’d frillied up the room she’d stuck him in. It had to be on purpose. He could so not see her with pink sheets and pink comforter and pink…well shit, just
about everything.

  Lizzie’s dropped-jaw look at the bed and her subsequent chuckles had confirmed it. “My God, when did she even have the time to do this? It’s good, though, she needed a good laugh.”

  “Yeah, except you’re the one laughing, as will be anybody who comes to visit and sees me in this Barbie Dream House.”

  Lizzie hooted with laughter. “Oh, she laughed, all right. You just know she was busting a gut standing in line at Shopko with these in her cart.”

  He couldn’t help smiling at the thought of that. Yeah. Okay. She got him on that one.

  His mother came back into the room, stifling a grin as she looked at her bruising hockey-player son surrounded by pink shams.

  It was a sham, all right.

  “I put the casserole in the oven on timer, so it’ll go off by itself when it’s done, in case you’re sleeping. It’ll be fine until you’re ready or Alison gets home.”

  “Thanks, Mom. You know you didn’t have to do that.”

  She came over and sat on the edge of the bed. Petey was propped up against the headboard on top of the comforter—no way was he going to crawl into the pile of Pepto Bismol until he had to. His mother pulled a throw (pink) from the foot of the bed and draped it across his legs to his waist. He saw her eyes fill with sadness as the throw covered the brace on his leg. At least he was able to wear track pants and have the brace fit over them.

  “It’s the least I can do, bring some meals over for you. And Alison. It kills me that you can’t be at the house.”

  “Dad and I would be at each other’s throats within twenty-four hours.”

  She looked like she was going to argue with him but then just shrugged and gave a small smile. “You’re probably right.”

  “Plus, all those damn stairs. Not to mention the ones that did me in in the first place.”

  She put a hand on his ankle. “Oh Petey, you have no idea how sick your father is about that. He was beside himself. He still is.”

  “Why? It’s the end of January in the Copper Country. What outside steps aren’t icy? I just wasn’t paying attention. Too much of a Southern boy now.”

  “They don’t have icy stairs in Detroit?”

  “Not for hockey stars—we’re exempt! We do our share of ice time in other ways.”

  She swatted his good leg and chuckled. His mother’s laughter was better than any Vicodin. “Seriously, Mom, you’ve got to get Dad to ease up on himself. It never occurred to me that it was in any way anyone’s fault.”

  “That’s right,” Lizzie said, entering the room. “If you think about it, he was on his way to see me. One could say it was my fault.”

  “Yeah, let’s go with that,” he said, winking at his best friend, who flipped him the bird behind his mother’s back.

  “I need to get back home. I have a conference call.”

  “It’s after five. Didn’t you promise Finn you’d keep normal work hours now?”

  “West coast.”

  That sparked his interest. “Who ya going after?”

  A coy smile played across her face. “Can’t say, it’s too early. Let’s just say Darío made the connection and it would be a Major coup for Hampton and Associates.”

  What Major-winning golfer lived on the west coast? “Phil?” She only smiled wider. “No shit? Lizard, that’s great.”

  “Petey,” his mother said, swatting him again as she rose from the bed. “Watch the mouth.”

  “Sorry,” he said, though they both knew he wasn’t. “Good luck with the call.”

  “Thanks. Like I said, way too early. We’re just going to talk about some of his charitable foundations and if we could help him out.”

  “Which of course you can.”

  “Of course,” she said with no hesitation. She came over, bent down and kissed him on the forehead, and ruffled his hair. Yep, definitely a toddler. “Al thought she’d be home around eight after having dinner with her mom and sister and stopping by the hospital for a quick visit with her dad.”

  “How long has she been keeping this up?”

  Lizzie sighed, placed her hands on her hips, and looked out the window like she was counting the passage of time via the seasons. Maybe she was. “Jeez, I think her dad’s been in and out of the hospital for nearly a year now? Maybe a little less. Her mom didn’t start going downhill until this past summer, and it’s been a lot slower.”

  “Jesus,” he said under his breath.

  “Yeah,” Lizzie agreed.

  He looked around at the stupid pink sheets. Where had she found time to do this? “This seems like a lot to ask. Maybe we should figure something else out. A motel or something? Call Jules and see if she has any rooms available for long-term. I know it’s snowmobile season, but she loves me. She’ll find me a room.”

  “You are not staying in a motel, nice as Jules’s place is. You’ll go stir crazy. At least here you can hobble to the kitchen and living room for a change of scenery. Plus, you can’t beat the view,” his mother said, motioning out the large window to the ice-covered lake. If he weren’t pissed at ice in general right now he’d agree.

  “Honestly,” Lizzie said, “I think this might be good for Al, too. She’s been in such a rut lately with the hospital, her mom’s situation and her private practice.”

  “So, what? Another patient for her to look after?”

  “You mean like her parents’ kind of patient, or her patients’ kind of patient?” Lizzie joked. “‘Cause I’m thinking you could probably use both kinds of attention.”

  “Ha fucking ha,” he said, and shrugged as his mother arched a brow at his language, then left the room.

  It was Lizzie’s turn to sit on the bed and pat his foot. “Seriously, though, you know she’d be a great listener if you want to talk about this all.”

  “Talk about falling down the stairs and having my knee twisted all to hell? Doesn’t seem like a lot to talk about.”

  Lizzie pinned him with a look. Her no-nonsense stare that she’d pulled on him numerous times. And which he’d ignored numerous times.

  “You know what I mean. Obviously you wanted to talk about your impending retirement with your folks and me, or you wouldn’t have gone through the huge hassle of flying up here for a day when you could have just called or emailed with the news. And that’s when you had several months to come to terms with it. Well, guess what, those terms are now upon you. It’d be no wonder if you went through some sort of….”

  “Of what?”

  She waved a hand around, as if trying to capture the right words. “I don’t know. A phase or something.”

  “A phase? Like puberty?”

  “See? This is why you should talk to Al about it. I’m not the best at figuring out emotions. Hell, I ate mine for fifteen years.” She looked away from him, out the window, and he knew she was a step away from beating herself up inside.

  He nudged her hip with his good knee. “Hey,” he said quietly. He nudged her again until she took her gaze off the wintery landscape and looked at him. “All in the past, Lizard. You’re in a good place,now. You. Finn. The kids. Baby Sam. It’s all good.”

  She blinked at him, and then, as if coming out of a trance, a huge smile lit her pretty face. “You’re totally right. Nothing but rainbows and lollipops.”

  “And Major-winning clients, unless you blow it by being late for your call.”

  She glanced at her watch and nodded. “Yep, gotta go.” She moved from the bed just as his mother came back into the room with a pitcher of water and a glass, which she put on the bedside table.

  “I can stay if you want me to,” she said. “Until Alison comes home.”

  Part of him wanted her to. Not because he feared being alone, but because he’d like some buffer when Alison first arrived. They’d have to be alone together, of course, but if his mom were here then she’d have to be semi-cordial to him.

  Jesus. He needed his mommy to make sure the big bad girl was nice to him?

  “Nah, but thanks. I’m
pretty wiped and I’ll probably just zonk out for a while, anyway.”

  “That’s good. The doctor said you should get as much rest as possible for the next few days.”

  They said their goodbyes and the ladies left him in the pink cauldron to stare out the window at the frozen landscape and think about what he was going to do with the rest of his life.

  ***

  Alison quietly let herself into her home, hoping not to wake Petey. Hoping Petey would be asleep. The kitchen smelled amazing and she glanced around the room from where she stood in the foyer divesting herself of her winter outerwear. No sign of whatever smelled so good. Boots off, she padded across the hardwood floor and peeked in the oven. Nothing. She looked in the fridge. A casserole dish, with a large portion of the cheesy concoction removed, sat covered with a glass lid. She peered at the sink, but there were no dirty dishes. Opening the dishwasher she saw a rinsed plate, glass and some silverware.

  Lizzie or Petey’s mom must have stayed a while and gotten him fed and cleaned up. This was just as well, since she was exhausted after her dinner with her mother and Sherry. She put the bag of warm soup she’d gotten to go from the restaurant into the refrigerator. He could have it tomorrow.

  “Al?” she heard him call from her bedroom. “That you?”

  Who else would it be, she wondered, but then mentally cut him some slack upon realizing that her home would probably have a revolving door for the next few days. His parents and Lizzie and others would want to come and see how he was faring. And leave yummy-looking casseroles.

  “Yep,” she answered as she made her way down the hallway to the bedrooms. “Sorry if I woke you, I was trying to be—” The words died in her mouth as she rounded the corner and saw him propped up in her bed naked from the waist up, a vision of pure male amidst the pink bedding.

  She’d bought it as a joke. She’d been at Shopko picking up her mom’s meds yesterday when she’d taken a U-turn with her cart and ended up buying anything pink and lacy that would fit on a queen bed.