Falling for Her (Short Story) (Kindle Single)

by Debbie Macomber

  I wondered if she was upset because I wasn’t at her place working on that rose garden she was so intent on me putting together. The project was huge and she was more than impatient about getting it finished. It was unrealistic for me to have it completed before the open house she’d planned. Regardless of how often I reminded her of that, she had it in her mind that it was possible.

  As soon as the car eased to a stop outside the hospital, Jo Marie rushed around to help transfer me from the wheelchair to the passenger seat. The woman allowed me no pride. Thankfully, her help wasn’t needed. The nurse had obviously done this a time or two and made it look effortless. My leg continued to throb with pain and I gritted my teeth as I awkwardly slid into her car.

  Jo Marie climbed back behind the wheel. “You okay?”

  I nodded stiffly and looked out the passenger window, preferring not to talk. For the first time I noticed my jeans were ruined. The nurse in the emergency room had made a huge slit up the leg, so now it flopped over my cast. My best pair, too.

  The radio played and I was grateful that Jo Marie didn’t seem inclined to chat, because I wasn’t in a talkative mood. The drive around the cove seemed to take ten times longer than normal. The silence between us felt as heavy as that table pressing against my leg.

  When we finally got into town, Jo Marie missed the turnoff for my street. “Where are you going?” I asked. I wasn’t in the mood for a so-called shortcut.

  “Don’t you need to stop by the pharmacy?” she asked.

  I didn’t want to be in her debt any more than I already was, so I shook my head. I’d get the prescription filled some other way. “Not now.”

  “But won’t you need crutches to get into the house?”

  “I have a pair already.” I’d found them in the back of one of the closets, left behind when I’d purchased the house.

  “Did you break your leg before?”

  “No,” I returned impatiently.

  “Sorry I asked,” she snapped back.

  Changing course, she turned and backtracked to my place. She’d barely stopped when my hand was on the door handle; I was eager to escape her.

  “You’re going to need the crutches to get up those stairs,” she reminded me.

  She was right, although I hated to admit it. “Back bedroom closet.” Right away I noticed her smile and knew why. Almost from the first Jo Marie had been openly curious about my past. Since the time I crafted the sign for the B&B, she’d been less than subtle about wanting to know my background. Whenever possible, which was a good majority of the time, I was able to sidestep her questions. The less she knew about me, the better. Like I said earlier, I’m a simple man with a complicated past and I preferred to keep my personal life personal.

  Jo Marie must think that by seeing the house she’d learn more about me. Well, big surprise, the house wouldn’t tell her squat. For the first time since the accident I found a reason to smile.

  She retrieved the crutches in short order and handed them to me. The transition out of the car wasn’t smooth. I ended up snapping at Jo Marie a couple more times. To her credit, she was patient and didn’t return in kind, which only made me feel worse.

  Managing the stairs was no piece of cake, either, and by the time I was inside the house I was exhausted. I slumped down in the recliner, reached for the lever, and elevated both legs.

  It wasn’t only my leg that caused me discomfort. My entire body was one giant ache. I lay back, released a sigh, and closed my eyes.

  “Can I get you anything before I go?”

  “No thanks.” At this point all I wanted was to be left alone.

  “Call me if you need help,” she said, hesitating.

  The only way she was going to leave was if I agreed, so I nodded.

  “I’ll check in on you later.”

  “No need.”

  Still she hesitated, as if there was something more she wanted. Frankly, I wasn’t having it. “You can go now,” I said, more forcefully than I intended to. I knew I was acting like a jerk. I felt bad about it, but the last thing I wanted was her fussing over me. Sleep beckoned.

  —

  I don’t know how long I slept, but it must have been most of the afternoon. When I woke I felt significantly better. My leg continued to throb and I wished I hadn’t been so stubborn about not letting Jo Marie stop off at the pharmacy for the medications. I could use another painkiller, although I hated the thought of taking them.

  To complicate matters, I couldn’t find the prescriptions the nurse had given me along with a list of instructions. The best I could figure, I’d left them in Jo Marie’s car, which meant I’d need to call her. I put it off. Not smart, I know, but my brain seemed to have zoned out and lethargy had set in.

  The evening news was on and my stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten lunch, and breakfast had consisted of a peanut-butter sandwich. I struggled up, balancing on the crutches, and was awkwardly working my way toward the kitchen when someone knocked on the front door.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it might be. The only person who knew what had happened was Jo Marie. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard scratching against the door.

  Rover.

  “Hold on,” I shouted, moving as best I could. My progress was slow.

  A second hard knock followed. Then, “Mark, it’s me.”

  “Be patient,” I called out. I’d made it halfway back into the room when the front door was thrust open and Jo Marie and Rover walked in.

  She offered me an apologetic smile. “I figured you didn’t keep it locked.”

  Apparently she knew me better than I realized. In a community like Cedar Cove, locked doors hardly seemed necessary. Right away I noticed Jo Marie had two brown paper bags in her hand.

  “I brought you dinner,” she announced, apparently noticing that my eyes had immediately gone toward the packages.

  Again, I should have been over the moon with appreciation, and while inwardly I was glad, I didn’t want to rely on her. Sooner or later I would need to find a way to take care of myself.

  “Why’d you do that?” I asked, following her, swinging my casted leg forward as I used the crutches.

  “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Silly of me, I guess, but I assumed you might be hungry.”

  Her sarcasm was heavy and I didn’t blame her. I hadn’t exactly been welcoming.

  “It wasn’t any trouble to fix you something since I was cooking for myself.” From the sound of her voice I could tell she’d made a determined effort to hold on to her temper. On her way into the kitchen, she set the smaller of the two bags down on the end table next to the recliner.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your prescriptions. I had them filled for you. You’re supposed to take the antibiotic with food.”

  “Is that why you brought me dinner?” I could read a label and there was plenty of peanut butter in the house.

  “Rover insisted.”

  “Rover,” I repeated, eyeing the mutt. He’d set himself down on the carpet next to my chair, making himself comfortable. At the mention of his name, he raised his head and looked toward Jo Marie.

  “I brought you soup and salad.”

  The idea of soup appealed to me. “What kind of soup?”

  “Are you picky?”

  “No, just curious.”

  “It’s a favorite recipe of mine. It’s squash.”

  My mouth started to water.

  “I’ll take it back home. I wouldn’t want to force food on you or be a pest.”

  “I could probably eat,” I said, downplaying my appreciation and my appetite. I returned to my chair and was grateful to sit. Already the undersides of my arms ached from the crutches. I took the two medications out of the bag and read the labels.

  A hint of a smile showed, but she turned away before I could be sure. Taking the salad and soup into the kitchen, I heard her rummaging about, and soon afterward the microwave started to hum.

  “Do you need a
pain med?”

  “I’ll wait awhile,” I said, although it was all I could do not to remove the cap and swallow down three or four. I don’t know why I felt the need to pretend I was superhuman and could withstand high levels of discomfort. The fact was I hurt and was too damn proud to admit it.

  She stepped into the doorway from the kitchen and placed her hand on her hip. “You should take one anyway.”

  “Why would I do that?” I argued, for the sake of arguing.

  “Because,” she said, pointedly, “you’ll be in pain soon enough, and you want to ward it off so you’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

  I reached for the prescription for the simple reason that the fight had gone out of me. Arguing had worn me out.

  A couple minutes later she returned with a tray she must have found in the kitchen. I didn’t realize I even had one. The aroma from the soup hit me at about the same time she set the tray in my lap. I nearly swooned.

  Reaching for the spoon, I could only hope that the taste lived up to the promise. And it did. This was quite possibly the best soup I’d ever tasted, and it hadn’t come out of a can.

  “Is it too hot?”

  “No.” I knew she was waiting for a reaction, and I downplayed my response for fear she’d take it as a sign to deliver every meal. “It’s fine.”

  Disappointment flashed in her eyes and she returned with a glass of water. “I would have brought you a glass of milk, but it’d expired.”

  “It’s probably still good,” I argued. I didn’t pay much attention to the expiration dates on stuff I refrigerated.

  “It expired three weeks ago, Mark. It looks more like cottage cheese than milk.”

  “Oh.”

  Without invitation, she sat down. “I guess you get your wish after all,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “What wish is that? I have several.” On top was the hope I could put thoughts of her out of my head, but that wasn’t happening.

  “The rose garden.”

  “Yeah, what about it?” I asked between sips, savoring each one and struggling to hide the fact. If she’d hadn’t been there I would have licked the underside of the spoon.

  “I’d hoped to have it finished before the open house, remember?”

  This was no surprise. She’d hounded me for weeks about having the rose garden ready for the open house. When things weren’t progressing at an acceptable pace, she went ahead and set the date. I suspected she thought mailing out the invitations would entice me to speed things up. It didn’t. The project was far more involved than she realized.

  “It ain’t gonna happen,” I said.

  “I know,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to my cast.

  “I wasn’t going to finish it in time even before I broke my leg.”

  She pinched her lips closed.

  The food settled and I realized how hungry I’d been. “Did you say something about bringing a salad?”

  “I did. Would you like that now?”

  “If you put it in the fridge I might forget about it.” That was a stretch.

  “I’m on it.” Jo Marie brought it to me with a fork and removed the empty soup bowl, then returned it to the kitchen.

  “The soup was excellent.” She deserved to know how good it was. My fist tightened around the fork and I kept my eyes lowered. “I might owe you an apology.”

  “You might?” she repeated.

  “I’m grateful you stopped by this morning when you did.” It shouldn’t be this hard to show appreciation. “And the fact that you waited for me at the hospital. That was above anything that I expected you to do.”

  “Mark, come on, we’re friends. You’d do it for me.”

  That was debatable, but I didn’t say it.

  “I might have been a bit cranky.”

  “Yes, you might have been.”

  Jo Marie smiled, and for the life of me I couldn’t look away. Just seeing her smile did something to my insides. Whatever it was hit me with a physical force to the point that I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t sure what had happened. One thing I was sure of, however…whatever it was, I didn’t want it.

  Chapter 3

  I was still reeling from the effects of Jo Marie’s smile when she headed back to the kitchen. Heaven only knew what she was doing in there now. From the clanging noise, I suspected she’d tackled the pile of dirty dishes stacked in the sink.

  When it came to my workshop and my projects, I was an organizational wizard. Housework? Not so much. Washing dishes had to be my least favorite task. If Jo Marie wanted to take care of it, then I wasn’t stopping her. At best estimate there was about a week’s worth of dirty dishes in the sink.

  My eyes drifted closed. Hard to believe I could be tired when I’d slept a good portion of the afternoon. I could feel myself struggling to stay awake. It had to be those blasted pain meds. It surprised me how quickly they’d taken effect.

  Minutes could have passed, or an hour; I had no way of telling. My brain absorbed the sounds coming from the kitchen, so when she spoke I had no idea of the time.

  “You okay for me to leave?” she asked.

  I looked up at her and was struck once again by how attractive she was. “Of course I am.” I might have broken my leg, but I wasn’t a child. “I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  She smiled as if she found me amusing. That hadn’t been my intention.

  “Come on, Rover,” Jo Marie urged.

  The mixed-breed dog remained beside the chair, his chin resting against his paws. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave.

  “Go on,” I said, waving my hand as an encouragement.

  Rover sluggishly rose to his feet, as if with great reluctance. He looked back at me as Jo Marie attached his leash to his collar.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You talking to me?” she asked.

  The question took me by surprise—I looked at her and we locked gazes. For several uncomfortable moments neither of us spoke. “No, I was talking to Rover.”

  “You didn’t actually expect him to answer, did you?”

  “I guess not.” Although I kinda think I was.

  “Call me if you need anything,” she said, tugging at Rover’s leash.

  “Okay.”

  She started to leave, then turned back, smiling, as if she knew something I didn’t. “You won’t call me, though, will you?”

  She had my number. “Probably not.”

  Her shoulder shook with a silent laugh. “Night, Mark.”

  “Night.” I didn’t know what it was going to take to convince her to leave. Instantly, I was stabbed with guilt. If not for Jo Marie I would have been in a world of hurt. “Thanks again,” I mumbled, not even sure she would hear me.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Her million-watt smile was still there and I found it mesmerizing. It had to be the meds doing this, playing havoc with my emotions.

  “I’ll stop by in the morning and check on you.”

  “No need,” I insisted, looking away for fear my eyes would tell her otherwise.

  “I’ll bring cookies.” Jo Marie left, closing the door softly behind her.

  How well she knew me.

  The house felt like a black hole afterward, as if she’d taken all the light and oxygen with her. I didn’t want her as my nursemaid, and at the same time I could hardly bear to be without her. Explain that!

  Leaning back in the chair with my legs elevated, I contemplated what had just happened. I couldn’t make sense of it and I wasn’t sure I wanted to, for fear of what it would mean.

  —

  Although she phoned to check on me, Jo Marie didn’t show the next morning, and that was fine by me. I didn’t want to find myself relying on her. I’ll admit I would have enjoyed a visit, and that irritated me. She had become far too important to me and I had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach for the rest of the morning.

  As the day progressed I found myself listening for her, anticipating a visit. By
late afternoon I worried something had held her up. I knew her, and it wasn’t like Jo Marie not to fuss over me. With more difficulty than I imagined, I washed up and changed my shirt. By the time I finished I felt as exhausted as if I’d run a marathon, which was probably what led to me falling. One minute I was upright and the next thing I knew I was flat on my butt without a clue how I’d managed it. Right away I was in relentless pain.

  I sat there, unsure what to do, until I couldn’t take the throbbing ache any longer. The spasms were the worst. Out of the blue, pain would shoot up my leg with such intensity that I had to clench my teeth and clamp my fist and my jaw until it passed.

  After several feeble attempts I had no choice but to call Jo Marie. She answered on the third ring, just as I was about to give up. Not bothering to hide my relief at the sound of her voice, I said her name: “Jo Marie?”

  I hated the thought of telling her what I’d done. My pride had taken more than a bruising. “I need help.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I told her, and right away she promised to come.

  Jo Marie arrived a few minutes later, without Rover. “Mark?”

  “In here.” Relief washed through me just hearing her voice.

  She found me and it was as if the entire room lit up with sunshine. I blinked at the light that was her.

  “How’d you manage this? And how long did you wait before you called me? Too long, right? And I bet you didn’t bother with your pain pills today, either, did you?”

  The questions came at me like gunshots, one after the other. I had no intention of answering.

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “Of course I’ll help you.” Her look was sympathetic.

  We tried several maneuvers before we found one that worked. If I was exhausted earlier, it didn’t compare to how I felt now. I was barely able to make it back to my chair.

  Jo Marie followed, keeping a close watch on me. She looked troubled and I doubted it was anything that had to do with my predicament. At times she was hard to read, and at other times she was like an open book. This evening, she simply looked sad. It didn’t take a fortune-teller to figure out whatever it was had to do with the death of her husband. Now, I’m no therapist, but I supposed if she talked about it she might feel better.