by Sandy James
Thankfully, she glanced up to see Savannah waving from the cafeteria entrance. Bypassing the food and drinks, she made her way to Joslynn. After taking a seat, she gave one of her typical smiles—the content type she’d worn since she and Brad had become a couple. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” Jos replied. “How’s Caroline? Brad?”
“They’re great. But I think we’ve got other things to talk about.” Savannah set her phone aside and folded her hands on the table. “So, are you ready to explain those rather…freaked-out messages?”
Joslynn shifted the cup between her hands. “Yeah, sorry about those. I guess they were a little intense. I was just—as you said—freaked out.”
“Well, since all I got from them was that there was something up with Russ, I have to admit that I’m dying of curiosity. Especially when you mentioned that he wants to do something that you find…what was the word? Oh, yeah. ‘Repulsive.’”
“I said that?” Jos asked.
“Sure did,” Savannah replied. “That word lends itself to some rather vivid imaginings. So you’ll see why I’ve been dying to find out what’s going on.”
“He wouldn’t sleep with me,” Joslynn blurted out. “Can you believe it?”
Eyes wide, Savannah kept quiet.
“I mean it,” Joslynn said with a nod. “We went back to his place, and he turned me down flat.”
“And that was ‘repulsive’?”
“No. What’s repulsive is what he did want to do.”
With a flip of her hand, Savannah revealed her impatience. “If you don’t tell me the whole story soon, I think I’m going to lose my mind.”
Joslynn let out a sigh. “He thinks we should wait for sex, that we should have a…a…relationship.”
Savannah’s response was a broadened smile. “No wonder you’re terrified. You’re pretty accustomed to being alone.”
Alone.
Seemed to Joslynn as if she’d always been on her own. Always.
Her sperm donor had heard the word “leukemia” and promptly bailed, and she’d refused to waste a minute of time thinking about him after that. They’d never been close anyway since he’d been a truck driver who had seldom been home. The memories she had of him had faded to a haze.
Her mother had at least tried to be there through the worst of Jos’s illness, offering to hold her ten-year-old daughter’s hand through her chemotherapy infusions. But then work interfered, and Joslynn had spent those long days with many different people—relatives, friends, anyone who could spare the time—listening to music or watching TV. They always acted so uncomfortable, finding reasons to leave the infusion area often.
Her mother hadn’t had a choice except to work. There were bills to be paid, and if she hadn’t worked, there would’ve been no insurance to pay for the treatments. Jos didn’t blame her. But if there was one thing childhood leukemia did for a person, it taught her that when everything was said and done, she was fighting the battle alone. Her body was her own enemy, and she’d learned to face each problem with stoicism—resigned to fate and yet still ready to do what needed to be done to survive.
And no one could save her unless she saved herself. It was her own spirit, her own fortitude that ultimately allowed her to survive leukemia and the horrible process of systematically poisoning her body to rid herself of the disease.
Once the battle ended, Joslynn had vowed to help other sick people. She’d been obsessed with any subject that allowed her to understand how to heal. Chemistry. Biology. Psychology. While medical school had seemed appealing, crippling debt hadn’t. So she’d opted for nursing and had found her place in life—at least as far as a vocation was concerned. After a few years as a nurse, she’d decided to become a nurse practitioner since it allowed her to grow even more.
She’d specialized in emergency medicine because she enjoyed the frenetic pace, but when she could find the time, she visited the pediatric oncology ward, doing what she could to encourage the patients and their families, to give them hope for beating down the enemy within.
Her personal life had been every bit as deliberate. She wasn’t about to let the life she’d fought so hard to keep be defined by some man’s opinion of her, especially after watching the agony her mom had gone through when her husband left. No way. Jos had already fought one war; she wasn’t going to invite another one into her life. Besides, the one time she’d tried a normal relationship had only reaffirmed her belief that independence was the better route.
“Earth to Jos,” Savannah said, laying a gentle hand over Joslynn’s.
“Sorry. Got a little lost in thought.”
“You were looking pretty fierce there, so I’m guessing you’re not thinking too kindly about Russ.”
Russ. Joslynn was right back where she started. What was she going to do about him?
Savannah pulled her hand back. “You know, I think you’re going about this with a little too much worry.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you shouldn’t keep acting like he asked you to make some kind of lifetime commitment. Instead of angsting over whether you two are going to have a long-term relationship, why not just go on a few dates? See if you two click?”
Joslynn couldn’t stop a smile. “Oh, we ‘click’ just fine.”
A knowing grin blossomed on Savannah’s face. “So it’s like that, is it? Good for you two.”
“But we’re back to the original problem. He wants to wait.”
“A couple of dates, Jos. Give the guy a couple of dates. It doesn’t work out, what’s the worst that could happen?”
He could break my heart.
That thought almost made her gasp. Since when was her heart involved?
“Look,” Savannah said. “If things don’t work out, you guys don’t see each other that much anyway, right? You’re working night shifts, which means you don’t come to a lot of our Friday barbecues. And it’s not like you spend a ton of time at the restaurant.”
“Yeah, we really don’t bump into each other often.” Pretty much never.
“So, I ask again, what do you have to lose?”
“Are you happy, Savannah? I mean, you went through hell with Caroline’s father…”
“I did, but Brad is the best thing that ever happened to me. And to Caroline. I’m very happy.”
Somehow, Joslynn didn’t see Brad running out on his adopted daughter should she get sick. “Brad’s a good guy.”
“I think Russ is a good guy, too. If I were you, I’d give him a chance to prove it.”
* * *
It was only a few minutes before midnight when Russ realized he hadn’t gone into Words & Music at all that day. Brad and Ethan would be thrilled that he’d found something better to do with his days off.
What had he been doing instead of knocking heads at the bar? He’d sat down with his guitar and worked on the song he’d been writing.
He’d first picked up a guitar in middle school, wanting to impress some girl he’d had a crush on. He’d found out pretty quickly that he had a talent for it, so he’d convinced his parents to let him take lessons. Not that he wanted to be a country music star or anything. All he had to do was open his mouth and try to sing and it became quite clear that he was never meant to perform. His father had always joked that the dogs in the neighborhood would start howling whenever Russ tried to sing, which wasn’t far from the truth.
But he kept up the guitar, finding that it was soothing to play it on game days when he often got too wound up. A few songs and he could focus better. The Colts used to have a sing-along as part of their pregame ritual. Russ played; they sang.
It was only in the last year that he’d thought about writing a tune. The hobby was relaxing, which meant he should probably do it more often. His temper seemed to be getting the better of him lately. Time with his guitar, plucking out a new tune, helped him keep a good grip on things.
The song he was currently working on had been so much easier than any of his others
. The melody was nearly done, and it was a tune that was soothing to the ears. But the nascent songwriter had not a clue as to what lyrics to match to it.
Was it a love song? A funny tune? Kitsch?
All of the above?
Depended on the tempo.
It’s Josie’s song, Russ suddenly realized.
That was when he understood Brad on a deeper level. When Brad had a dry spell, being unable or unwilling to write songs, it was Savannah who had inspired him to compose again—the same way the words to this new song were coming straight from Russ’s budding feelings for Joslynn.
So he’d sat down and fiddled with the words, trying to match them to the music, and lost all track of time. He thought about Josie for a minute, wondering how her shift was going. By midnight, she was probably just getting warmed up.
He scribbled a few more words down before a yawn slipped out. How could Josie handle being up—not only awake but working—so late and still face another six or so hours of seeing patients? Not only was she incredibly strong, but her body had to be on a different rhythm from the rest of the world.
Why did each new thought of her bring around a few more words to the song?
Finally setting his pen and his guitar aside, Russ picked up his phone to text her.
Hope you’re having a good night. Running in the morning?
The reply wasn’t long in coming.
Of course. See you there?
Absolutely.
Chapter Nine
Russ put his hand against the small of Joslynn’s back as he guided her into the pancake house. It wasn’t often he went on a breakfast date, mostly because he liked sleeping late, but if getting up early allowed him to spend time with her, he’d meet her anywhere and anytime.
She had dark smudges under her eyes, and she’d covered a yawn more than once. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was to rush around a busy emergency room for fourteen straight hours three days in a row. That she hadn’t wanted to run this morning was enough to tell him how exhausted she was.
“I want some eggs and some sleep,” she said as she slid into her side of the booth. “I’m dead tired.”
“You’ll get both,” Russ promised as he turned his inverted coffee cup over to alert the waitress he needed some caffeine. When Josie didn’t mimic his action, he asked, “No coffee?”
She shook her head. “It’ll keep me awake.”
“Ah. Makes sense.”
Instead of picking up the menu, she unwrapped the napkin holding her silverware.
“Know what you want?” he asked.
“My usual.”
“So you come here a lot?”
“Yep. Some of us come over here after our shift. Huge portions and the waitresses are awesome.”
As though to prove her point, a fortysomething waitress brought a coffeepot over to fill Russ’s cup. “Good morning.”
Before he could even take a sip, his cell rang, and he checked the ID. “Mom?”
“I need your help!” his mother said, her voice frantic.
Adrenaline rushed through his body. “What?”
“Please come home!”
Heart pounding, Russ asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Just come home. We need your help.”
“Did you call 911?”
There was no response. A quick check of his phone showed she’d ended the call.
He anxiously tried calling back, but his attempt went right to voicemail. “Damn it.”
“What’s wrong?” Josie asked.
“I’m not sure. Mom begged me to come home right away. Said she needed my help,” he replied, debating whether to call 911. Since he had no idea exactly what was going on, he didn’t know what to tell a dispatcher. Did they need the police? Firefighters? An ambulance?
His parents’ home was only a brief drive away, and he figured he’d go there first to get the facts. “I’m sorry, Josie. I’ve gotta go.”
She was on her feet as well, tossing some money on the table. “I’m going with you.”
Russ hadn’t told her anything about his father’s illness, and he wasn’t sure this was the best way for her to find out. “It’s okay. I can handle this.” Then his brain kicked in.
She’s a nurse. They might need medical help.
“I want to go with you,” she insisted. “You can fill me in on the way there.”
With a hard swallow, he nodded. Her tagging along meant that the time had come to share with her exactly what was wrong with his father. He only hoped that she wouldn’t come to the conclusion that her boyfriend might be a ticking time bomb and decide a relationship simply wasn’t worth the effort.
She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“How far?” Joslynn asked as she buckled her seat belt.
“Only about five miles,” Russ replied, firing up the engine. The tires squealed as he sped out of the parking lot.
“Please tell me what’s going on.” He’d sounded so worried on his phone call, but she knew little of why they were rushing away from the restaurant.
After taking a corner so quickly that she was forced to brace herself against the door, he finally said, “I’m not sure, but I imagine it has to do with my dad.”
“Your dad?”
“I wasn’t quite ready to tell you yet, but he has Alzheimer’s.”
She placed her hand on his thigh and gave him an affectionate squeeze. “Oh, Russ. I’m so sorry.”
What else was she supposed to say? Alzheimer’s was one of the most insidiously tragic things that could happen to a person—to a family. Her first thought was that Russ’s father had to be too young for that kind of diagnosis, but then again, the disease could hit at any age.
“Yeah,” he said, his mouth bowing to a fierce frown. “So am I.”
“What was the call about?”
“All she said was to come home right away.”
Joslynn was surprised when Russ pulled his SUV into a driveway. Seemed as though they’d just left the restaurant. They scrambled out of the vehicle as a middle-aged woman with disheveled wet hair came hurrying down the front porch steps in her stocking feet.
“What’s wrong? Where’s Dad?” Russ asked, jerking his phone from his belt. “Tell me what happened so I can call 911. Did he fall? Is he hurt?”
The woman—one who Jos recognized as a former ER patient—shook her head and went hurrying back up the stairs. “He ran away.”
“He what?”
“He’s gone, Russell.” She waved them into the house, and Russ and Jos obediently followed.
“I took a quick shower, and when I came out of the bathroom, he wouldn’t answer me. I’ve been looking everywhere.” The woman shoved her feet into her shoes and then bent over to tie the laces. “He must’ve gone outside. We need to search for him.”
Joslynn took a good look around, trying to assess the situation. Her gaze fell to the front door. The rug that touched the threshold had a distinct border, which was something in their favor. “Was the door open?”
“Mom,” Russ said, “this is Josie. Josie, this is my mom, Yvonne Green.”
After a quick look of pleading directed at Jos, Yvonne shook her head again. “We need to start in the garage. Then we can check the shed out back.”
Since Yvonne clearly didn’t want Russ to know they’d already met, Joslynn focused on the problem at hand. “Was the front door open?” she asked again.
“No. None of the doors were open, but…”
“I don’t think he went outside.” Jos pointed to the floor by the front door. “That rug has a visual boundary. He probably wouldn’t cross it.”
Russ cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
Pointing to the rug again, she replied, “Alzheimer’s patients normally won’t cross a thick line like the border of that rug. Most Alzheimer units have carpet borders put all around the perimeter of any room the patients congregate in. It keeps them from wandering.”
>
“I have a rug exactly like that by the back door,” Yvonne said. “You really think he didn’t leave?”
Joslynn nodded. “Have you searched the house?”
“Not well,” Yvonne replied, combing her fingers through her damp hair. “I hurried to get dressed so we could start searching.”
“Then we should start in the house. If we don’t find him here, we’ll call 911 and get some help for a larger search.” Jos shifted her gaze to Russ. “Why don’t you start upstairs? That’s where the bedrooms are, right?”
He nodded.
“Closets to hide in,” she said. “Look everywhere. Under beds, anyplace a body could fit.”
“I’ll check this floor,” Yvonne said. “Would you mind looking in the basement, Josie?”
“I’d be happy to.”
As Russ ran up the stairs, Yvonne led Joslynn to another stairway. “Down there.”
“We’ll find him,” Jos said, placing her hand on Yvonne’s arm.
Wiping away a tear, Yvonne nodded. Then she hurried off as Joslynn headed down the stairs.
The lights were on when she entered the basement. The first cavernous room held a pool table and a vintage pinball machine. Old-fashioned paneling lined the walls, and the floor was covered with rust-colored carpet that had to be older than she was.
A door leading from the room was open and the naked lightbulb hanging in the center of the ceiling was illuminated, which made her think she might be on the right track. After a quick check under the pool table and pinball machine, she headed to the next room. This was a utility area with a water heater, the furnace, and a washer and dryer. Instead of being finished, the room had a concrete floor and the walls were open to the studs. She searched behind anything where a man could fit and found nothing. There was one more door, again open, and she walked through it.
A masculine chuckle made her let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Fumbling against the wall for a switch, she turned on the lights to find a storage room full of shelving units. Resting on those metal surfaces was everything from board games to large boxes marked with myriad descriptors from “Christmas” to “baby clothes.”
