Nick arrived home, and they ate supper in the dining room—burgers and fried zucchini, along with sliced tomatoes and fresh corn. The boys ate corn on the cob until Nick claimed it was coming out their ears.
Nick took Ryanne aside later, pulling her down the hall.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Been dying to kiss me?”
He kissed her. “Of course. But I have something to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“I want to ask Ann Marie to stay here for a few days—just until she gets on her feet, and gets used to the cast and the pain eases up. We have an extra bedroom, but I know the load of the extra work will fall to you, so I—”
“Of course. Ask her to stay.”
“You’re sure you won’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks, Rye.” He kissed her again.
For the next three days, things went as smoothly as possible with two rowdy boys who got bored and then amused themselves in new and inventive ways. On the third evening, they had finished dinner and with one arm Ann Marie was helping Ryanne carry dishes to the sink when the phone rang.
Mel answered it on the second ring. “Evelyn! How are you?”
Ryanne’s attention riveted on his voice. Why was her mother calling?
“Oh,” he said, his voice gone serious. “Oh, my. Yes, dear. Yes, of course, here she is.” He held the phone out. “Ryanne, it’s your mother.”
She took the phone. “Mom?”
“Hello, honey.”
“How are you?”
“Well, not too well right at the moment.” Her voice sounded a little fuzzy, her words somewhat slurred.
Alarm rose in Ryanne’s chest. “What’s the matter?”
“I had a little accident.”
“Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“I fell and broke my collarbone. I’m all bandaged up and in a hospital bed. It’s quite undignified the way they have me trussed and dressed.”
“Oh, my! Well, how did this happen?” Nick had come to stand by her and listen. Ryanne placed her hand over the receiver and said, “She fell and broke her collarbone.”
“I tripped over the hose, actually. I was watering my cactus.”
“I didn’t think you watered cactus.”
“What?”
“Well, it’s not important. Did you have someone to take you to the hospital? Did you call an ambulance?”
“Oh, no, no, my friend Gil brought me. He’s here now.”
“Oh. Well, Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll call and get a flight.” Mentally, she tallied her bank balance and wondered if there’d be enough for a plane ticket.
“I’d like it if you came, Ryanne,” her mother said. “I really would. I don’t want to be a bother to you, though.”
“Nonsense. What hospital are you in?”
She grabbed a pen and paper from the kitchen desk and jotted a location and phone number, then said her good-byes and hung up.
Ryanne explained the situation to Mel and Nick. Ann Marie took the boys into the family room.
“Let me see what I can find online,” Nick said, sitting in front of his laptop, typing furiously.
Ryanne stood with her hip against the counter, feeling a little confused. Her thoughts traced over her responsibilities to Nick. “What about Jamie?” she said suddenly. “I promised I’d stay with him until his day care was ready.”
“That’s only another day or so,” Nick told her.
Ann Marie had come to stand in the doorway. “Excuse me,” she said hesitantly. “But I’d be more than happy to help with Jamie. I’m here, anyway, and you’ve all been so nice to me. My arm is much better. I can’t go back to work yet, but I can sure look after Jamie. He and Dylan are good company for each other.”
Nick turned back to the screen. “I think that’s a great idea, Ann Marie. You and Dad can help me hold down the fort for a few days.” He scrolled down a screen. “How about nine forty-five, Rye?”
“Tonight?”
“Yup.” He reached into his back pocket, withdrew his wallet and entered a credit card number.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying a ticket.”
Ryanne looked from Nick to Mel, then over at Ann Marie. They all seemed to take Nick’s action in stride. “I can pay for my own ticket,” she said.
“We’ll worry about that later. This was quick.” He printed out a receipt. “Better get packed. You’ll need this.”
“Nick...” she said softly. She glanced at the amount on the receipt and her stomach dropped.
Mel and Ann Marie busied themselves finishing the dishes.
Nick stepped into the dining room and she followed.
“Don’t you want to go?” he asked.
Of course she wanted to go; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was Nick stepping in and making plans for her—spending money she couldn’t afford to pay back. It was dangerous to lean on someone, let anyone do things for her or be too supportive. It wouldn’t do to let herself get used to it. She’d stood on her own two feet even when she was married. But for now, for the time being, she was very glad of Nick’s assistance. “Yes, of course I do. Thanks for your help.”
“Go home and pack. It’s a two-hour drive.”
* * *
REACHING THE AIRPORT in Des Moines by nine, they shared a drink in the terminal lounge.
Nick sat beside Ryanne and held her hand. “Tell your mom her lawn looks good this summer.”
“I told her that on the phone last week. She said you always take care of it for her. Lately, I’ve been wondering why she hasn’t sold the place. I guess I never really paid any attention before...not ever being here. But now it seems...odd.”
“I don’t know. She spends a few weeks here in the spring each year. And a few weeks in the fall. Maybe she just doesn’t want to cut her ties.”
Ryanne would have been out of luck for a place to go if her mother had severed her ties to Elmwood. “Maybe.”
“Got your phone handy?”
Ryanne dug it from her pocket.
“Add my cell number to your contacts.”
She scrolled to her address book and entered his number as he told it to her.
“Call anytime,” he said. “Day or night.”
She gave him an amused smile.
“What’s so funny?”
She leaned forward and kissed him. “You.”
All at once she realized how much she was going to miss him—and Jamie—and a lump came to her throat. She might as well get used to it; she’d have to leave them soon, anyway.
Nick walked her to the security gate and she hugged him, an emptiness she’d never known before rising up inside her. She clung to him for a long moment, drew in the scent of his hair and his skin from a recent shave. She’d taken a lot of business trips over the years, boarded a good many planes, but she’d never felt lost at leaving someone behind.
This feeling was foolish; she’d only be gone a few days, and it wasn’t as though she had a commitment to Nick in the first place. He was a friend. Well, friend wasn’t quite an apt description anymore, but boyfriend sounded too much like...love should be involved.
She walked through the doors toward the ramp. Seated and buckled in, she peered through the window at the enormous panes of glass of the terminal, spotted Nick’s tall form and waved, though he probably couldn’t see her.
Tears blurred her vision. Before long, she would be doing this for real. Leaving Nick and Iowa for good. The knowledge that her time in Elmwood would soon be behind her didn’t rest as comfortably as it had years ago. Now, she wondered what exactly she had ever been running away from.
* * *
CAREFUL OF HER mother’s injuries, Ryanne greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Evelyn Whitaker’s shoulder was wrapped and her arm was bound securely to her chest, but she wore a warm smile when she saw her daughter. With her good hand, she grasped Ryanne’s and kept her close by her side. �
��Your mother is a clumsy thing,” she said.
“You got tangled in the hose, Mom?” Ryanne asked.
“I’m not even sure what happened. I tripped over a loop and fell against the concrete.”
“The sidewalk?”
“Yes, or the porch step somehow. I don’t know. They’re getting ready to discharge me.”
“Good. We’ll get you settled at your place.”
Ryanne helped handle all the paperwork and talked with the doctor, then phoned a cab.
“We could have called Gil,” Evelyn said as they rode toward her home. “He drove me here.”
“This is fine,” Ryanne assured her. She’d had cash for the cab to the hospital and for this one, since Nick had paid for her plane fare. Now she had to pay him back somehow.
The small house with its rocky front yard and arid landscaping was foreign to Ryanne. She’d been there only once before. Her mother handed her the keys and she unlocked the door and ushered her in, then went back for their luggage, purses and two plants.
Evelyn was sitting on the sleek contemporary sofa, and had removed her shoes and raised her feet to the wrought-iron-and-glass coffee table. The furniture was ultramodern, the carpet white, a drastic contrast to the vintage look and feel of the home in Elmwood.
“Let me go get you a couple of pillows,” Ryanne said. She found the bedroom, also decorated in an airy modern style, and glanced around. Being here made it feel as though she didn’t even know her mother anymore. She didn’t. She was a stranger in her mother’s new life.
Carrying back two pillows, she helped Evelyn get settled in a reclining position with her feet up.
“That’s nice, honey,” her mother said. “Are you thirsty or hungry? We missed the hospital lunch, thankfully.”
“You’ll let me take care of that.”
Ryanne prepared sandwiches and made iced tea, and they ate while visiting. Even the kitchen had been filled with sleek modern appliances, not an antique in sight. “This is all so different, Mom. You don’t have a single antique here.”
Her mother looked around. “No.”
“You used to take me antique shopping all the time, remember?”
Her mother nodded. “You enjoyed it so. There are several shops nearby if you’d like to see them. I don’t know what they’re like because I’ve never been to them, but we could find a few once I’m rested.”
Ryanne gave her a curious glance. “Did your tastes change? You don’t like antiques anymore?”
“I think they’re nice. I just never loved them like you did. You were always fascinated by the history of the pieces.”
Her reply was puzzling. Ryanne mulled it over, thought of the house full of furniture in Elmwood. “What about all the pieces at the house? The sideboards and tables and chairs and the clock....” Her mind catalogued the place.
“I guess I think of those as yours, dear. I couldn’t bear to part with them unless you wanted to.”
Ryanne took in this revelation with astonishment. “You bought all that stuff for me?”
“We bought it together. That’s the history that means something to me.”
Ryanne thought back over the trips she and her mother had taken while she’d been growing up. They’d always shopped and brought something home. Only now did she realize that each piece had been something that Ryanne herself had fallen in love with.
“Do you ever intend to live in Elmwood again, Mom?”
“I don’t think so, honey. I’m very happy here. I moved to Elmwood with your father when he got a job at the college. You have your life in California, so there’s really nothing there in Iowa for me anymore.”
“You’ve never sold the house.”
“What would I do with all your furniture?” she said with a smile.
“Surely the property’s a financial burden,” Ryanne said.
“No. The house is paid for. The taxes are minimal. I only visit occasionally, certainly not enough to make the place worth keeping if you don’t want it. If you don’t want the furniture, we can store it, or have an auction,” she said. “The pieces will bring a good price. Maybe it’s time. While you’re there, you can take the things you want.”
Ryanne couldn’t imagine selling that house. Even though she’d thought she wanted to get away from Elmwood, she’d always known the place was a refuge, somewhere safe and secure that would be waiting. “Do you want to sell the house?”
“Actually it’s joint property, you know. Your name is on the deed.”
“No, I’d forgotten.”
“Half the money will be yours. Not that you care, I suppose, but you can invest it.”
That information was good news and bad news rolled into one, creating a terrible quandary. If they sold it, she could use her half to pay off her debts. But how could she sell it? She’d cleaned and polished and reacquainted herself with the place, enjoying it like an old friend she’d missed.
How could she not? Selling it would solve a huge problem. “Maybe I’ll check with a Realtor when I get home. Back, I mean. When I get back.”
That night Ryanne made herself a bed on the sofa, then tidied up. She carried a bag to her mother’s room. Evelyn was sitting at her dressing table, working moisturizer into her skin with one hand.
“Let me set these down and I’ll help you.” Ryanne carried the toiletries into the bathroom and opened a narrow closet door. Men’s shaving gear and cologne sat on the bottom shelf. She stared for a moment, then placed the items inside and closed the door.
She wasn’t shocked, really. Her mother had been without a mate for years now. Certainly she needed her own life. But the fact that Evelyn hadn’t shared this development hurt. It was Ryanne’s own fault, she realized belatedly. She hadn’t exactly shown an interest or spent any time keeping their relationship close.
She studied her mother, her hair colored a shiny dark gold as it always had been, her form slim and attractive, her eyes bright and intelligent. “What’s your favorite fragrance, Mom?”
Her mom glanced at the small selection on her dressing table and picked up a bottle. “This one. Why?”
Ryanne took it and spritzed a little on her mother’s wrists, then sniffed her. “Yes. It smells like you. I like it.”
She took the brush and pulled it through Evelyn’s silky tresses. “Who does your hair?”
“A hilarious young man with a goatee and an earring. He makes me laugh while he colors and cuts.” She blushed and waved her hand in front of her face. “Last time he asked me if I wanted a bikini wax, can you imagine?”
Hearing her mother talk about her hairdresser, Ryanne laughed. They chatted for a few minutes more, but eventually Evelyn grew weary. Ryanne brought her a pain pill and a glass of water and tucked her into bed.
She perched on the side. “Tell me about Gil.”
Her mother smoothed the covers with one hand. “He’s a widower. A retired dentist. He has two spaniels and a Russian blue cat, so he pays someone to vacuum his carpet and furniture three times a week. He cooks much better than I do. In fact, he does a show on a local cable channel, giving cooking classes.
“And he loves people. He talks to people everywhere we go. Dresses up like a clown for the kids at the hospital.”
Ryanne thought of her father, so suspicious of people’s motives, concerned about appearances, definitely not a people person, and knew why her mother would appreciate someone just the opposite. “He sounds great. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“I told him you were coming. He offered to come cook for us tomorrow. I said I’d have to ask you. I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”
“I’d love to meet him,” Ryanne said. “You tell him I’ll be really hungry.”
Evelyn grasped her daughter’s hand. “Thank you, Ryanne. For coming.”
“I’m really glad to be here.” She blinked away tears, kissed her mom’s cheek and stood. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to visit more often. From now on, I will.”
“I’d like tha
t.”
“Me, too.” Leaving the room, Ryanne pulled the door closed. From her makeshift bed, she dialed Nick’s cell phone number.
On the second ring, he answered. “Miss you.”
She smiled. “What were you doing?”
“Would you believe I’m thinking about you?”
She glanced at the clock, remembering all the nights he’d stayed awake. “No. What were you really doing?”
“Tweaking an engine.”
“Now, that’s sexy.”
He chuckled. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s doing fine. She’s home. Nick, she has a boyfriend.”
“Yeah? A stud?”
“Knock it off. He’s a really good friend to her. I think she likes him a lot.”
“Well, that’s great. Isn’t it?”
“Yes. I think it is. How’s Jamie?”
“Still in seventh heaven with a live-in buddy. They had to set up the tent tonight.”
“Oh, no. No sleep for you.” She was kidding, because she’d recognized that Jamie had little to do with Nick’s not getting enough sleep.
“Ann Marie’s on night watch.”
“Nick,” Ryanne said softly. She’d put all the evidence together. “I saw all the books by your reading chair.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you have a sleep disorder?”
He didn’t answer and she feared she’d gone too far. She didn’t share personal things with him, after all. She shouldn’t have asked. She’d stepped over the line into something he had chosen not to tell her about. Silence stretched uncomfortably along the phone line.
CHAPTER TWELVE
FINALLY, HE SAID, “INSOMNIA.”
“That must be miserable.”
“It’s getting better. I just have to practice the relaxation methods that work for me and keep a schedule. I can’t sleep during the day or drink or smoke, which I don’t do anyway. I need to get bright light during the day, keep a sleep journal—you didn’t read that, did you?”
“No.”
“And—don’t laugh.”
“I don’t think this is a laughing matter.”
“Well, I schedule worry time for during the day. I don’t allow myself to worry at night.”
Then silence stretched between them. “Rye,” he said softly.
Hometown Sheriff Page 13
