Becca squeezed her younger sister’s shoulder. “I probably need the help anyway.”
“No offense, Becs, but you do.”
“So what kind of dress did mom tell you to look for? This gala thing sounds like an old person’s party.”
“It is. That’s why the rest of us aren’t going.” Charlotte laughed. “Mom said to steer you toward a floor-length dress.”
“You’re kidding. It’s that formal? What do the men wear?”
“It’s black tie optional. Dad usually wears a tux.”
An image of Jack in a sharp black tuxedo popped into her head, sending an unexpected rush of heat through her body. And that was saying something, given that it was ninety degrees outside to begin with.
Charlotte reached into the front pocket of her shorts and pulled something out. “Mom, gave me her credit card.”
“No no. I'm paying for it. I can’t repay the insurance deductible if I’m taking money from them at the same time.”
“They’re not going to take your money, Becca.” Charlotte began pushing aside dresses.
“I’ll leave it in an envelope on the table on my way out of town.”
“You’re not staying? Mom could use you at the shop. She’s already had, like, four requests for you to do another hand quilting workshop.”
“I don’t think Cass is happy about me muscling in on Quilt Therapy.”
“Cass is never happy. And I think she’s more jealous that Jack Wolfe comes home and you’re the one he’s interested in.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s being blackmailed into this. Or paid off, one of the two.”
Charlotte shrugged. “All the same, there’s a new guy in town and he goes for you while Cassidy is still a virgin at twenty-seven.”
“She is? You’re kidding.”
“Nope. She’s too picky.” Charlotte pulled a long emerald green dress from the rack and held it up to herself for Becca’s inspection. “She won’t date any of the local guys and it’s unrealistic to expect to land some rich summer guy. Especially when she won’t sleep with them. That’s what they want—a summer lay.” Charlotte made the silky green fabric shimmy. “What do you think?”
“The color’s right for my hair.” The dress shimmied again. “But, the top …” Becca waved her hands in front of her chest. The bodice of the dress looked small before flaring out to a fuller skirt. “Too form-fitting, I think.”
Charlotte frowned down at the dress in her hands. “What? You have the perfect figure for this.”
How to explain her criteria to her sister? I need the dress to be appropriate, but ugly.
“I don’t want it to be too sexy. It’s the hospital. And mom and dad will be there.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes as she put the dress back on the rack. “You’re going to make Jack look like he’s there with his grandmother.”
Exactly. Becca flipped through dresses on the next rack over. “Jack’s local, anyway. Why would Cassidy care?”
“He’s also a lawyer. So he’s a local guy made good.”
Not exactly. But his secret was safe with her. People in glass houses and all that.
“What about you?” She lifted up a long halter dress in a watery blue and white print. It felt like silk. She liked the style, though it was still too sexy to meet her criteria.
“What about me?”
Becca put the blue dress back. “Are you still a virgin?”
Charlotte blushed. “Um, no. I had a couple boyfriends in college.”
“What happened?”
“One ran its course. The other went back home for the summer and he’s starting medical school in the fall in Boston.” Charlotte had a wistful look on her face.
“You still like him.”
She nodded. “Yeah. But we’re young. And he has to go to the medical school that matched up with him. It’s not like he can just decide to go somewhere closer.” She came around to Becca’s side and pulled out the blue dress. “I like this one. You should try it on.”
“Do you think it’s formal enough?”
“Try it on and we can text a picture to mom to see what she thinks.”
Becca grabbed a few other dresses and headed for the changing rooms, Charlotte in tow. She pulled her tee shirt dress over her head and dropped the blue and white halter dress on. She adjusted the tie at the back of the neck before slowly spinning around for Charlotte.
“What do you think?”
“I love it, Becs. Let me take a picture for mom.” She sent a quick text. Seconds later, Charlotte’s phone rang. “Uh oh. She’s calling on video chat.” Charlotte tapped to answer.
“Let me see in real time,” their mother’s voice spilled from the phone.
Charlotte pointed it at Becca.
“Hi mom.”
“That’s beautiful, sweetheart. Fits you well.”
Becca ran her hands down the dress, smoothing the skirt. “But is it formal enough?”
“For someone your age? Yes. You’ll look darling next to Jack.”
That wasn’t the look Becca wanted to go for. “I have a few other options, too.”
“Try those on and let me see.”
Charlotte chatted with their mother about her upcoming trip to Washington as Becca put on dress number two. It was a high-necked style in bubblegum pink. Guaranteed to repel any man. It was such an unattractive color that Becca half-marveled that someone somewhere had actually approved its manufacture. Predictably, it got thumbs down from both Charlotte and their mother. Dresses three and four received the same reception.
“The blue and white one, sweetie,” her mother reiterated. “You look so pretty in that one. Try it on again.”
Becca swapped out dresses and stood before the full-length mirror. It was pretty. It skimmed over her slender waist and the skirt moved almost like water itself. She turned to look at the back, peering over her shoulder. If she and Jack danced at the gala, his hands would have to touch her bare skin.
Suddenly she wanted Jack’s hands on her bare skin ...
“You’re young. You don’t even have to worry about a bra,” her mother added.
… her breasts pressed into Jack’s chest as they danced to some eighties song their parents liked. Air Supply or Journey.
Her mom had a sad, faraway look on her face.
“What’s the matter, mom?”
Michelle forced her mouth into something resembling a smile. “I wish my sister could be here to see what a beautiful young woman you grew up to be.”
Her sister. Becca’s biological mother.
“She would be proud of you, sweetie.”
Becca looked at herself again in the mirror. The dress did look good on her, and she liked dressing up these days. She wasn’t the Becca Trevor everyone used to know, the angry teenager trying to keep all comers at bay with attitude, dyed black hair, and ripped clothing. She might not be all American pretty like her sister or mother, but she didn’t feel the need any longer to make a statement about it. She was twenty-five years old and had been supporting herself since she was eighteen. Why should she spend her hard-earned money on an ugly dress?
Jack had asked her to the gala. He was just going to have to deal with her the way she looked now, the person she was now. A person who made a mistake seven years ago hooking up with him but who wasn’t going to repeat that mistake.
She moved a few inches to the side so her mom could see her reflection in the mirror. “What kind of shoes do you think?”
“Don’t let them keep me here.”
Jack looked up at the sound of his mother’s voice. Her eyes, closed a moment ago, were now open and filled with fear. An I.V. line snaked down to her arm.
“They might want to, just for the night, for observation. You were dehydrated.”
“Please, Jackie. I want to be at home.”
Hospital sounds leaked in from the hallway. Scratchy announcements over the intercom. Shoes squeaking against the waxed floor. The creak of cart wheels.
&nbs
p; “Dad’s on the way. He left the meeting in Annapolis right away.”
It had become Jack’s routine to stop by the house first thing in the morning to see his mother. Mornings were when she had the most energy. But today, he had found her disoriented and weak. He called his dad from the car, on the way to the hospital.
He felt his phone buzz against his thigh, and he pulled it from the pocket of his shorts. “He just crossed the Bay Bridge.”
That news didn’t seem to relax her any. Then it hit him. She wasn’t worried about spending the night here. Don’t make me die in a hospital. That’s what she was terrified of. She wanted to be at home when it happened.
He moved to the hard vinyl-covered chair next to the bed, and took her hand in his. The bones beneath her cool skin felt as frail as a bird’s. The noxious brew of anger and desperation that was always swirling in his chest threatened to boil over again. Why? Why dammit? The other constant in his life these days—his running argument with God.
To his right, the door opened and a nurse entered the room. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Wolfe?” The nurse strode over to the bed, pressed her fingers to his mother’s wrist. She glanced up at Jack. “Mr. Wolfe, can you wait outside, please?”
He leaned down and kissed his mother on the forehead. Even as he did it, he realized how backward it was—him kissing his mother like she was a child. The desperate anger was like knives trying to squeeze through his veins. The pain of this was everywhere, with no relief. Not even for a moment.
“We’ll take you home, I promise,” he said before leaving her alone with the nurse.
He took the elevator down to the lobby, then headed outside for some fresh air. He stood beneath the canopy sheltering the hospital’s entrance. On the other side of the door, an exhausted-looking man stood smoking a cigarette. Jack had never been tempted to smoke but now he wished there was something like that he could turn to relieve the stress. He leaned back against the hospital’s brick exterior and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Nor could Matt. According to his brother, their mother had felt “out of sorts” for months before finally going to see a doctor. By then the cancer had spread and there wasn’t much to be done about. Chemo to give her a few extra months, but that was it.
Months! And then there would be years ahead without her.
“Hey there.”
He recognized that voice, and it wasn’t God’s. God had been remarkably silent in response to Jack’s entreaties. He opened his eyes to see Becca standing there, her cinnamon hair pulled back into a neat, tight ponytail. Maybe God wasn’t all bad—if he had to talk to another human being right now, Becca Trevor would be the human he’d choose. He’d ponder the why of that later. Right now, he was just unaccountably pleased to see her.
“I’m afraid to ask why you’re here,” she added, shifting the weight of the large bundle she was cradling in her arms. A quilt, he realized. The fire quilt.
“Mom was admitted. Dehydration, that’s all. They’ve got her on an I.V.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Wave a magic wand. Just stand here and stare at me like that.
He shook his head. “I’m waiting for dad to show up. A nurse kicked me out of the room.” He forced a smile.
“Speaking of your dad.” She jiggled the quilt in her arms. “He asked me to drop this off here at the hospital. The fire department’s donating it to the silent auction at the gala.”
Jack reached out and lifted the quilt from her arms. “Where do you need to take it? I’ll carry it for you.” As he pulled the quilt into his chest, he realized how ridiculous that offer was. The quilt wasn’t heavy at all. Becca could easily carry it all over the hospital without any help. He couldn’t hand it back to her now though. He was committed to a course of action.
Becca fished a slip of paper from the back pocket of her shorts. That gave him an excuse to check out her legs. Right? What if she dropped that tiny piece of paper on the ground? Picking it up for her would be the gentlemanly thing to do, so he needed to watch and see whether she dropped it or not. Yeah, it would be easier for her to pick it up, given that he now held an armful of fabric. If she dropped it, that was. Which it didn’t appear as though she was going to. Her slender fingers unfolded the paper to reveal a room number.
Dear lord. She has nice legs. His memory of that night at the graduation party held no visuals on her legs. Between the alcohol and the lust-fueled anticipation, he hadn’t noticed those. His loss, evidently. Actually—thanks to both of those things—he didn’t remember a whole lot from those fifteen minutes in her car. That damned sock monkey, which in his memory was pretty creepy. Did he even kiss her first? Foreplay didn’t figure prominently in his memories, either.
Hands down, you were the worst sex she ever had. No way that wasn’t true.
“Room 177,” she read the number off the piece of paper, then pushed it back into her pocket.
That drew his attention back to a certain part of her anatomy he’d love to see. They hadn’t seen much of each other’s bodies that night. They’d undressed only as much as was necessary to get the job done.
That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Those fifteen minutes in her car had been a task—the task of dispensing with his virginity. Maybe he was overthinking the whole thing. It wasn’t like he was the only man she’d ever been with. In all likelihood, she never even thought about that night. They were two kids who, under the influence, had hooked up—and if they had to do it again, they probably wouldn’t.
Except you probably would.
In the distance, thunder rumbled. They both glanced up at the clouds.
“We should get this inside,” he said.
Jack carried the quilt to room 177, the office of the hospital’s vice president of development, and handed it over. Carmen Schwartz was effusive in her praise of the quilt. Jack might as well have been invisible. It occurred to him to quietly slip away and leave the two women alone, but his feet weren’t that eager to move.
Carmen unfolded the quilt partway and ran her finger over the lines of tiny stitching. “This is beautiful, Becca. How on earth did you guys get it done this quickly?”
“Mom kept the shop open late a few nights because there were so many people who wanted to work on it.” Becca laughed lightly. “With two dozen quilters, it goes pretty fast.”
“Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t get over there to help. As soon as the gala is over, I’ve got a few UFOs to get back to.”
“I’ve got a couple of those myself,” Becca replied.
“Are you coming to the gala?”
Becca nodded. Jack took a step back toward the doorway. Maybe he really should leave. But damn. Those legs. And ankles, too. He’d never really appreciated the loveliness of a woman’s ankles before. But the way the tiny leather straps of her sandals wrapped around the base of her calves …
“Are you bringing a date?” His attention snapped upward at the sound of Carmen’s words.
“Yes.” He and Becca answered the question simultaneously, and Carmen Schwartz seemed almost surprised to see him still there. He trained his eyes on her—her business attire, navy slacks and beige jacket—in the hope that they hadn’t noticed him ogling Becca’s gams.
“Jack and I are going.”
“Well ... that’s great.” Carmen was still looking at him, a look of faint disdain on her face, like she was trying to decide whether or not Jack was really good enough for Becca. “Tell your father I said ‘thank you’ for donating this quilt to us. That was very generous of the fire department.”
“I will. He’s on his way here.”
“Oh?”
“My mother is upstairs.” He cocked his head back toward the hallway. “She was admitted a little while ago.”
“Oh Jack, I’m sorry to hear that. How is she?”
“She was dehydrated, that’s all. It sounds like she’ll be back home tomorrow.”
A loud crack of thunder sounded outside and Becca’s eyes wid
ened in alarm.
“You should get going,” Carmen said. “So you’re not driving in the storm.”
Jack silently concurred. With the flat terrain of the eastern shore and the proximity of the bay, storms here could be sudden and vicious.
As they hurried down the hall, he had to ask, “What’s a UFO? I’m assuming you two aren’t working on alien spacecraft.”
“It’s an unfinished object, an unfinished quilt. Like your wedding quilt.”
“Ah. You don’t have to—”
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “We already discussed this, and it’s between me and your mother.”
By the time they reached the lobby, rain was coming down in sheets outside.
“Yuck,” Becca sighed.
“Give me your key. I’ll go get your car.”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “You’ll get soaked.”
“So would you.” And don’t even think about her little yellow tee shirt soaked through with rain. You’re a dog.
Lightning lit up the sky outside.
“Let me be a gentleman here, okay?”
She handed over the key.
“Where’s your car, roughly?” he asked.
“Toward the back.”
He took off running. Fortunately, the hospital’s front parking area was not as large as the lot behind. That would lessen his chances of getting struck by lightning. Still, he was soaked through to the skin by the time he reached the right row. He narrowed his eyes at the sock monkey as he unlocked her little white car.
“Ouch.” He rubbed his kneecap where he had just jammed it into the steering column and slapped his hand along the side of the seat, trying to find the lever that would allow Jack to actually fit into this tuna can of a car. He groaned in relief as the seat finally pushed back. This was why he drove an SUV. Not because he ever went off road or even needed the four-wheel drive in the Bay Area’s mild weather, but because it more comfortably accommodated his six-foot-five frame.
He inserted the key into the ignition and backed the car out of the parking space. By the time he circumnavigated the lot, his father had arrived and was standing with Becca beneath the canopy sheltering the hospital’s entrance. He pulled right up to them, put the car into park, and was about to open the door when Becca opened the passenger’s side and climbed in. Immediately, she realized her mistake and laughed.
Hearts on Fire Page 12
