They hadn’t actually had a chance to find out things like that about each other, she realized. She didn’t know if he was usually grumpy in the morning, or unbearably cheerful, whether he normally needed six hours of sleep a night or nine.
“My alarm never woke me. When I was in high school, Mom always had to yell until she got mad to make sure I was up.” She grinned at him. “You notice I don’t make breakfast at the café.”
That was one of the nice things about those couple of days. His mom tired easily, then the two of them could talk, sometimes quietly at her bedside, sometimes in the cafeteria.
Monday morning Lucy overheard part of a terse phone call he made. He sounded unhappy, and she was a little chilled by his remote expression when he turned and saw her.
“Work?” she asked.
He gave a short nod. “This is not a good time for me to go missing in action.”
“Is there ever a good time?”
Adrian grimaced. “No.”
Then he changed the subject, and she didn’t try to pursue the question of when he would have to go back to Seattle.
The hat lady was better each day, more herself. Of course she was weak from being in bed so long. First she made it shakily to the bathroom; by Monday evening, she was able to walk slowly up and down the hall. She was eating, and even reading after the librarian visited and left her a couple of books.
Lucy could tell Adrian was frustrated that she was remembering her life in Middleton but not much about before. He wanted to know where she’d been in the intervening years. He wanted her to remember him better than she did.
Tuesday morning he came to Lucy’s house for breakfast, then they drove separately to the hospital. When they walked into his mother’s room and he said, “Hi, Mom,” she gave him a surprised glance.
In an upper-crust British accent, she asked, “Who are you?”
He swore under his breath. “I’m your son, Adrian. Don’t you remember? Last night you told me what my first word was—”
“Yes, I answered you last night. No, this morning, sir, I say.”
He stared at her, baffled. “What in the hell?”
Lucy squeezed his forearm and murmured in his ear, “I think she’s Elizabeth Barrett Browning again. The poet?” she said, when he stared uncomprehendingly at her.
“My God. She’s crazy.”
“Don’t say that in front of her.” Lucy turned and marched out of the room, aware when he followed. She swung to face him. “I told you what she’s like.”
“Damn it, even though she’s been confused, she’s been herself,” he all but yelled at her. “Why this? Why now?”
“Because she’s getting better.”
He shook his head and kept shaking it. “This is better?”
“It’s who she’s been for a long time,” Lucy tried to explain.
Intense frustration on his face, he said, “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to get back to Seattle today.”
“Back to Seattle?” Lucy echoed. “You didn’t say—”
His expression changed. “I got another call on the way over here. I don’t have any choice. I’ll try to make it back Friday.”
“But...what if she’s ready to be discharged before then?”
He gave a short, harsh laugh. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve talked to Slater. I’ve told him I’ll be making arrangements for her.”
It was the way he said arrangements, so chilly, so...final.
Something heavy settled in Lucy’s chest. She felt stupid. She’d built some kind of castle in the air where he was concerned. He’d never been the man she thought he was; he couldn’t be if he could stick to a decision he’d made back at the beginning before he’d known his mother at all.
Before he’d known Middleton, and Lucy.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SHE’D BEEN AWARE FROM the beginning that Adrian had some kind of nursing home in mind. Of course if his mother hadn’t come out of the coma she’d have had to be cared for. Why, Lucy asked herself, hadn’t she realized he was going ahead with his plan even as the hat lady recovered?
Still standing there in the hospital corridor, she said, “You’re not going to let her stay in Middleton?”
“Living on the street?” He looked at her as if she were crazy.
“She did okay,” Lucy mumbled. Maybe it wasn’t the best solution, she could see why he balked, but she hated the other possibilities, too.
“She won’t have you anymore,” he said, in the tone of an adult pointing out the obvious to a child. “Wouldn’t you rather she was in Seattle where you can see her?”
The pain in her chest was so great, she could hardly breathe. This man staring at her with such impatience seemed like a stranger. Could she really leave Middleton and everyone else in the world she loved to share her life with him? The fact that he hadn’t given any thought at all to what would make his mother happiest bothered her terribly.
Would he make decisions like that for her, too? Lucy wondered. Yes, he was taking responsibility. Yes, he was doing what he considered right. All without the slightest hint of compassion or understanding. Was he more like his father than he would admit to being?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His attention was torn away when the cell phone she hadn’t even realized he was carrying rang, and he flipped it open to read the caller’s number. Snapping it shut, he said, “I’ve really got to go. We can talk about this later.” He nodded toward the elevator. “Walk me down?”
“You aren’t going to say goodbye?”
His jaw flexed. “Miss Browning doesn’t even know who I am. She isn’t going to miss me.”
Lucy lifted her chin. “No, I think I’ll stay here with her.”
That frustration flashed across his face again. “Think about it. You’ll see that I’m right.” When she didn’t respond, he added a clipped, “I’ll call.”
Lucy took a step toward the room so that he didn’t try to kiss her. Right this moment, she couldn’t bear to have him touch her. “Drive carefully.”
“I know this isn’t ideal....” He frowned, looking like the man she’d first met when she tracked him down in Seattle: impatient, emotionally distant, prepared to dismiss her.
I didn’t like myself without you around. He’d paused, then added with seeming reluctance, I was angry all week.
Maybe, she thought in a kind of horror, that’s who he really is.
He said something else; probably repeated, “I’ll call.”
She stood there and watched him walk away, very likely already putting her and his mother out of his mind.
No, that wasn’t fair. He’d said, “I love you.”
Tears burning in her eyes, Lucy whispered, “What if I don’t see that you’re right?”
* * *
FOR ONCE, HER MOTHER had knocked. When Lucy answered the door, Helen said rather tentatively, “May I come in?”
“You don’t have to ask.” She tried very hard to wipe all signs of unhappiness from her face. It was bad enough that her mother would ask about the dark smudges under her eyes. She’d hardly slept at all last night.
“I’m not the one who usually barges in.” Her mom followed her in and they headed toward the kitchen. They always talked in the kitchen; that’s where Martin women felt the most comfortable. “That’s your aunt Marian.”
“And Aunt Lynn. And Aunt...”
Laughing, her mother said, “Okay, okay! We don’t stand on ceremony in this family.”
“Tea?”
“Please.” She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat.
Lucy couldn’t help remembering what she and Adrian had done on that very table. Biting her lip, she turned her back as she ran hot water into the teakettle. Some things, parents didn’t need to know.
“I think that’s my question.” Her mother’s gaze took in the exhaustion on her face, and more. “I’ve been worried about you.”
Adrian had left only yesterday. How could her mother know to worry?
“Why?” Lucy asked.
“You haven’t talked to me at all lately. Even your father guessed you’d fallen for Adrian. The fact that you haven’t said anything has made me wonder—”
“Wonder?” she echoed, faintly.
Her mother’s voice was gentle. “Oh, whether he reciprocates your feelings. Or whether you’re afraid he doesn’t.”
Just like that, tears were rolling down her cheeks. With shaking hands, she swiped at them. “Oh, Mom!”
Her mother was out of the chair in an instant and had her arms around Lucy, holding her as she cried. “Oh, sweetie,” she murmured. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
Lucy sobbed until the teakettle whistled, then went to the bathroom to wash her face and compose herself while her mother poured the tea. She’d already carried the mugs to the table and was waiting when Lucy returned.
“How can he be such an idiot?” Helen said furiously, the minute Lucy had sat down. “Not to love you the way you deserve.”
“Mom, that isn’t it.” So quickly, tears threatened again. By sheer force of will, she managed to hold them back. Or perhaps she’d run out of tears. “He says he loves me.” She hesitated. “He asked me to marry him, Mom.”
Her mother gaped at her. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“Everything happened so fast. It was the next morning that his mom came out of her coma and—”
Helen’s eyes narrowed. “And you weren’t sure you were going to say yes.”
“I did say yes.” And oh, it hurt to remember her joy. Taking a deep breath, she told her mother everything: her hopes, her doubts, her fears. “Am I crazy?” she begged at the end.
Her mother’s expression was sorrowful. “Are you sure he isn’t right about the hat lady? I mean, look what happened to her.”
Lucy bristled. “Anybody could have been hit crossing the highway.”
“Yes, of course. But you can’t tell me you weren’t already worried about her. I was shocked to hear that she’s only in her fifties. Her diet is terrible, most nights she has no shelter. You’ve done your best for her, but—”
Her throat closed. “Was it good enough? Is that what you’re asking?”
“I’m not suggesting you could or should have done more. Lucy, what you did for her was extraordinary. I’m simply asking if she might not be better off where she’s taken care of.”
“Can you imagine her in a room in a nursing home? Maybe sharing with someone else. Able to go out only under supervision.” Her voice shook. “Those places lock their doors, Mom.”
Her mother was silent for a moment, her eyes troubled. “No,” she said at last. “No, I can’t. She’s a little bit like a wild creature. But, unlike you, I can see why Adrian might believe he’s doing the right thing.”
Lucy slumped. “I can, too. It isn’t really his decision that bothers me. It’s the way he came to it. He didn’t even talk to me, Mom. He’d made up his mind before he got here that first night, and he never even considered changing it. She’d made herself a life here, one she chose. Surely there was a way to compromise.”
Her mother held up her hand. “Don’t get mad at me. I agree. And I can see why you can’t marry a man who won’t talk over big decisions with you, and actually listen to you.”
“Oh, Mom.” With no warning, the tears spilled over this time. “I wish I didn’t love him!”
Her mother scooted her chair around to Lucy’s side of the table so she could once again hold her. “I know,” her mother murmured. “I know.”
* * *
ADRIAN DID CALL that week, although once again he sounded harried and...different. He wasn’t her Adrian, he was the impatient, guarded man Lucy had met that first day, when she walked into his office. The one who’d wanted to believe she was lying to him, for reasons she couldn’t imagine.
What must it be like, to always assume the worst about people?
She’d have sworn she had discovered who he really was beneath that hard veneer, but now she wondered. He’d been only ten years old when his mother disappeared from his life. A little boy. He’d had over twenty years to be influenced by his father, to take on the habits and mind-set that made him who he was. Probably she’d been naive, even foolish, to believe he could somehow shed those aspects of himself, as if he were wriggling out of his skin and leaving it behind, just because he’d recovered childhood memories, found his mother.
Found me.
He did say, the first time he called, “I know you’re upset with me, but you have to look at reality, Lucy.”
“We had a real life before you came to Middleton.” She tried so hard to sound as calm as he did, but her voice defied her by trembling. “It wasn’t so bad.”
He was silent for so long, she almost cracked and started babbling, conceding him anything he wanted.
But at last he said, “I’m getting the feeling you wish you’d never come looking for me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. “I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t. She needs you, and you need her.”
“What about you?” he asked softly. “What do you need?”
“For you to talk to me,” she whispered, remembering everything she and her mother had said. “To really talk to me.”
“What do you think I’m doing now?” he snapped. He sounded ragged, even angry. He muttered something she took as an expletive. “I want to see you, but I can’t get away until the weekend. Can we put this on hold until then?”
Did that mean his decision wasn’t final? Hope, fragile but still alive, stirred in her. That he might actually listen this time?
“Yes. Okay,” she said. “I’m here.”
At last, Adrian’s voice softened. “I wish I was there with you. Or you were here with me.”
Would she have wanted to be there in Seattle with him? Probably home alone in his condo, which she pictured as ultramodern, with chrome and neutral colors and none of the messiness her idea of real life produced. If she were there, they’d still be talking on the phone, because he’d be in his office.
But she knew suddenly she didn’t care.
Yes, she had made discoveries of her own these past weeks. Perhaps, in showing Middleton to Adrian, she’d seen it anew herself. However it had happened, she knew now that she loved her hometown. She loved living here, knowing her customers, knowing her neighbors, feeling her family’s love and support behind her. If she could, she’d travel—she did want to see more of the world. But she wanted to be able to come home again. Starting all over in a new place wasn’t the adventure she’d yearned for. Loving someone, trusting him, taking the risk of giving so much of herself to him, that was the real adventure.
And for that, she’d leave Middleton in a heartbeat. If Adrian really was the man she’d fallen in love with, she couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere he wasn’t. She was good at making friends. She could build a satisfying career, pursue hobbies, perhaps talk him into buying a house where she could garden. And he would come home to her every night, however tired, however frustrated by his day. They’d talk, they’d make love, they’d start a family of their own.
Her choice would be him, with no hesitation. If he was the man she wanted so desperately to believe he was.
“I wish that, too,” she admitted.
His voice lowered to a rumble. “I’ll see you this weekend. I promise. If things work out the way I think they will...” He paused, and she heard a woman’s voice in the background. Carol, no doubt.
Caro
l, who was the one who’d been looking for the assisted-living home for his mother. Carol, who didn’t even know the hat lady.
He came back on. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you this weekend. Friday, if I can get away, otherwise Saturday.”
“Yes. Okay.”
He didn’t say “I love you.” Lucy supposed he didn’t want to, with Carol standing there.
But, setting down the phone, she found the absence of the words bothered her. It seemed symbolic. The arrogant, hard Adrian Rutledge, attorney-at-law, wouldn’t let anybody see him being soft.
Still, he had implied that they still had time to talk, that there might be room for negotiation. So she would let herself feel hopeful. Because he did love her. She believed that much.
* * *
“YOU’RE TAKING HER, just like that?”
Lucy didn’t even know why she was in shock. Yes, she did—she’d foolishly imagined that he was promising her something that apparently had never crossed his mind.
When he said, “Can we put this on hold?” he hadn’t meant that there was still time to talk about his mom’s future. He’d probably thought he could pacify her in person. Or else he hadn’t understood that his decision wasn’t just about how happy or unhappy the hat lady would be, but was also about him.
This scene had begun playing out last week, and all it was doing now was concluding. She was the idiot, thinking that, because his voice had softened, she’d gotten through to him. Apparently she’d been an idiot all along, believing that once he knew his mother he’d slow down and think about what would give her the best quality of life.
Instead, he scowled at her. “What do you mean, just like that? I let you know last night that I was coming.”
Yes, he had. She’d found a message on her phone at home when she got in at nearly midnight after closing the restaurant.
I got lucky and found an opening for Mom at a great place. I’ve already called Slater. I’ll be over in the morning to get her. Meet me at the hospital? Say, eleven?
Too late to call him back, or so she told herself. He couldn’t mean it. Or...was there any chance he’d gotten his mom a bed at the nursing home here in Middleton as a temporary measure, and that he wanted to surprise her?
The Trouble with Joe Page 41
