“Why didn’t you call me?” Had she even heard his response? She stopped in front of him. “Didn’t Jason make a scene in the pharmacy today?”
“Yes, but you don’t need to apologize. He does.” He cleared his throat in an attempt to clear the pain from his chest. He needed to sit down.
“I would have rather heard this from you. Instead I found out from—”
“Mildred.” They spoke her name at the same time.
“Caroline, would you like to come in and take off your coat?” Rodney closed the door when she paced a few steps away. This wasn’t going to be the night to declare his love.
“I thought this would blow over. Really, Rodney, he’s a good man.” She slipped out of her parka and hung the hood over the knob of a closet door. She smoothed her black sweater over her jeans.
“Maybe he’s scared of his new responsibility of being a father?” Rodney offered as he led the way to the living room. He sat on the arm of a chair. This might not be heartburn. He flexed the fingers of his left arm. Nothing felt numb.
Caroline continued to pace when they got to the living room. Front view…back view. “Could be; I just don’t know.” Front view. “Angela says he clams up whenever she approaches the subject.” Back view. “Really, Rodney, he was raised better.”
He didn’t doubt that, but the intense pain in his chest made it hard for him to focus, let alone answer. He felt sweat bead on his forehead and upper lip. He slipped from the arm of the chair to the cushion. Had his arm gone numb? He squeezed his eyes shut and doubled over, pulling his knees to his chest, the pain now constant. He tried to hold in a moan but failed.
His eyes fluttered open when Caroline screamed his name. He saw her heading to the phone caddy; then she knelt in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” Fear iced over the sparkle of her blue eyes. Michelle was right. He should have told her; then she’d have known and called an ambulance by now.
Caroline reached out to touch him as another red-hot pain shot through his chest. His low groan increased to a loud moan that echoed in the now quiet room. She pulled her hand back and a tear trickled down her cheek. It was too late to break this to her gently.
God, please let her forgive me for this. “Caroline,” he rasped. “Call 911. I think I’m having another heart attack.”
Chapter 9
Rodney woke up to Michelle’s concern-mixed-with-anger face hovering over him. Her hand held his.
“I thought you were waking up.”
Groggy, Rodney looked around the room. “I’m in the hospital?”
“Right. Do you remember what happened?”
He moved his hand to his chest, pulling IV tubes with it. “Heart attack?”
“Not this time. Gallbladder.”
Bits and pieces came back to Rodney. Never-ending indigestion, collapsing in the chair, then EMTs lifting him to a gurney, their barrage of questions directed to his wife. No, not wife. Caroline.
Caroline. Now the memory was clear. She’d stood beside the chair, the corner of her lip sucked in, her brow furrowed as she tried to answer the EMT’s questions concerning his health. Running to the bathroom cabinet when they asked what medicines he took. “Where’s Caroline?”
“In the waiting room.”
“Can’t she come in?”
“No, you’re still in recovery.”
“But you’re here.”
“I’m allowed because I work in this hospital.”
Even groggy from the anesthesia, he heard the sisterly “duh” in her voice.
“I had surgery?”
“Yes.” The concern melted from Michelle’s features, but anger remained. He could tell by how the lines formed around her mouth. “They removed your gallbladder.”
“Are you mad at me because I had to have surgery?” His eyelids were so heavy. He’d just shut them for a minute.
The bustle around Rodney aroused him from his medicine-induced slumber. Michelle stood beside his bed while another nurse started the process of taking his vitals. His mouth was dry, his throat parched. He licked his lips and swallowed. No relief. The nurse stuck a thermometer under his tongue, making it worse.
When the nurse recorded the information and left the room, Michelle asked, “Do you need an ice chip?” She scooped ice fragments out of a Styrofoam cup with a plastic spoon. She held them to Rodney’s lips. The moisture that trickled down his throat felt like heaven. Michelle offered another spoonful.
“Thank you. You’re a good nurse.” Rodney held his hand out to his sister. She gave it a squeeze.
“It’s about time you realized someone else in the family was good at their job,” she said, her words tinged with anger.
“Why are you mad at me?” Rodney instinctively reached for his chest. It wasn’t as sore as last time. “I didn’t mean to have a heart attack.”
Michelle grinned.
“Now I’m funny?”
“No, lots of people have memory lapses when coming out from under anesthesia.” She ran her soft hand over the smooth skin of his head just like his mom used to do when he was sick as a child. “You didn’t have a heart attack. Your gallbladder burst, so they took it out.” Her voice no longer held the angry edge.
“Oh.” Rodney closed his eyes. Caroline’s worried features appeared. His eyes popped open. “Is Caroline okay?”
“Yes and no. She’s pretty shaken up. Why didn’t you tell her about your heart attack like I told you to?”
“I don’t know.” He squeezed his eyes shut tight in concentration. “No.” He shook his head. “I do know.” He opened his eyes. “She’d stopped worrying. I don’t know why or how, but one day her features relaxed and she stopped fretting over every little thing. She seemed happy. She’d been sad so long, I didn’t want to spoil it for her. She’s so pretty when she’s happy.” Rodney’s voice cracked. It had nothing to do with his dry throat.
Michelle’s laugh filled the room. She patted his cheek. “Rodney, even sleepy from surgery, your love for Caroline is written all over your face.” She held another spoonful of ice to his lips.
“Is she here? Can I see her?” Rodney pulled the ice from the spoon with his lips, losing the last one. It tinkled against the tile floor.
Michelle grabbed a towel from the sink area in his room, then wiped the wet spot on the floor. “She’s here. I’ll ask her to come in. I can’t guarantee anything. She followed the ambulance and waited until someone came to cover my shift. She wanted to leave, but I insisted she stay, using the excuse I didn’t want to be alone. But really it’s because I knew you’d ask for her. I’ll go see if she’ll come in.” Michelle turned when she got to the room door. “Rodney, you should know the worried look is back.”
Rodney watched sunbeams filter through the window. How far was the waiting room? Rodney fought his heavy eyelids. It seemed like forever since Michelle left. It wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes while he waited for Caroline.
When his eyes fluttered open, the sun’s rays had shifted to dusky shadows in his room. He’d fallen asleep while waiting for Caroline.
He heard breathing. Was she here? He strained his neck to see over his shoulder. The bed rail blocked his view. He thought she was in the chair at the head of his bed. He pushed the button on the bed and adjusted it to a more upright position. The noise roused Caroline from her chair.
“Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” She gripped the bed rail with both hands, knuckles turning white from the pressure.
“I’m okay.” He reached his hand out to her.
Her hands remained fixed to the rail. Her eyes focused on the IV bag. “I’m glad,” she said, then chewed at the corner of her lip.
He moved his outstretched hand to rest beside hers. His fingers overlapped her knuckles. “Please look at me.”
A veil once again covered her blue eyes, the worry lines prominent in her forehead in addition to the deep furrow between her brows. He’d hoped to lighten her burdens but had added to them instead. He wanted t
o pull her to him and hold her tight until all her doubts and fears subsided.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my health when you jumped to the conclusion—”
Caroline cut him off. “You led me to believe…” Her voice trailed off. She sniffed and pulled her hands free. She brushed at her eyes with her fingertips. “It doesn’t matter.” She waved her hands in the air.
“It does matter.” Rodney tried to sit upright, but sore incisions forced him to lean back into the pillows, meek instead of strong. “I was a workaholic who thrived on the stress my job created. Or so I thought. My body had other ideas. The heart attack was my wake-up call. I had to change my entire way of life.”
Her stance stiffened.
“I know honesty is the most important thing in a relationship, but I don’t have much experience in that area either. Just ask Michelle. Not only does a workaholic’s health suffer, but his family life does, too. I want you to know I was honest about everything else, and I won’t ever withhold anything again.”
Caroline closed her eyes and pursed her lips, shaking her head the entire time. She drew a ragged breath before she opened her eyes and for the first time looked directly into his. Sadness and fear mixed with hurt greeted Rodney’s gaze and pulled at his heart.
“I put my relationship with my son in jeopardy for you and your lofty ideas about my business. The least you could have done was told me you’d had heart problems. You know how I felt about Ted and the lack of care he gave his body.”
He wished he wasn’t tied to tubes. He wanted to drop to his knees, tell her he loved her, and beg her forgiveness. “Caroline.” His voice pleaded for him. “I’ve been taking better care of myself. My cardiac doctors are pleased. This health issue”—he waved his hands to circumference the room—“had nothing to do with that.”
Resignation flickered in her eyes. “I can’t do this again. I can’t care for someone and then lose him.”
“But what happened wasn’t life-threatening.” Despite the pain he leaned forward and reached toward her.
She stepped closer to the foot of the bed, out of arm’s reach. “It could have been. I thought it was, and so did you.” Her rapid blinking indicated she was on the verge of tears.
A lump formed in Rodney’s throat, and his chest ached. None of it a side effect from surgery.
“Rodney, I think it’s best we don’t see each other again. I know I owe you something for working on my website, and I’ll finish your quilt….”
“Caroline, don’t say that. Let’s not talk about this now. Go home and get some rest and give it some time.” If only he could get out of this bed. Frustrated, he punched the mattress. The IV tube slapped against the bed frame.
Michelle came into the room. “What’s going on in here? I can hear you down the hall. Both of you calm down, especially you.” She ran to Rodney’s side. “Ease back.” She guided his body back into the pillows.
“I knew I shouldn’t have stayed.” Caroline looked at Michelle, then back at Rodney. “I knew I’d upset you when you need to get rest. But I can’t”—she backed away from the bed, her hands shielding her eyes—“I can’t do this. I’ve got to get out of here.” She ran to the door. “Good-bye, Rodney,” she called over her shoulder.
Michelle played her registered nurse card and insisted Rodney recuperate at her house. At first he argued; he had a business to run. She rebutted that even if it did snow, his crew could handle all the snow removal. He needed to rest and get his strength back. Michelle promised that Caleb, home from college for spring break, could lend a hand to Rodney’s crew if the need arose.
Rodney sensed Michelle knew the real reason he wanted to go home—to be near Caroline. He’d hoped she’d forgiven him. He’d hoped her feelings hadn’t changed. He’d hoped that maybe she wanted to nurse him back to health. However, she hadn’t visited or called since she’d run out of his hospital room. He tried calling her, but all he ever reached was the answering machine. In the end, he relented and went to Michelle’s home.
Caleb provided a distraction during the day while everyone else was at work or school. The first day was awkward. Rodney didn’t have much in common with either of his nephews, nor did he really know them. After topical small talk, he and Caleb struggled for conversation. Caleb suggested they watch movies and they discovered that they both preferred comedies.
By evening, the household bustled. Everyone seemed to talk at once. No quiet dinners on the arm of the sofa, watching the weather. Rodney sat at the kitchen table and watched everyone buzz around Michelle while she prepared their dinner. How did she keep track of what she was doing while participating in three separate conversations that took side turns at any given moment? He felt like an outsider peering through a window like he always did when he was around his family.
Then a memory came to mind. His apron-clad mother stood at the Formica kitchen table, rolling piecrust. Michelle flanked one side of her, rolling a small circle of dough. He hovered on the other side, waiting for the small rolling pin Michelle used, both of them chattering about their day at school as they were making their after-school snack. His, a strawberry jam–filled tart; Michelle’s a cinnamon-sugar crisp. A standard activity in their household up until the time his dad took a different job in a different town. At seventeen, Rodney stayed behind to graduate with his class. He missed his family members so much when they moved. He missed being a part of a family and filled that void with work. He saw it now, not before.
“Hey, where are you?” Michelle waved a hand in front of Rodney’s face. “And why aren’t you over here helping out?”
“Don’t you have enough help?” Rodney stood and wiped his palms across his jeans.
“Never.”
“What she means is, she needs another person to boss.” Caleb looked up from scrubbing potatoes.
Rodney smiled. “I got a lot of that growing up.” He joined Caleb by the sink.
Michelle snapped a towel, missing both of them by inches. “Get to work. Rodney, core those apples,” she commanded in a low voice, then giggled.
“So where were you a minute ago?” Michelle arranged pieces of chicken in a baking pan.
“Making after-school snacks out of piecrust.” Rodney smiled. He’d eaten fancy strawberry tarts made by world-famous chefs in his lifetime, but none of them tasted as good as those childhood pastries.
Michelle’s eyes lit up. “I haven’t thought about that in years. It was so much fun.” She arranged the chicken, scalloped potatoes, and baked apple pans in the oven and closed the door. “We could do that for dessert tomorrow night if you’d like.”
“I would.” Rodney walked over to Michelle and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry I put my career before family. I missed out on so much. I’ve been a terrible brother and uncle. Not to mention son, especially to Mom after Dad died. There were so many things she needed help with, and after all the things she did for me, us, well, I let her down.”
Michelle cupped her hands around Rodney’s face. “A terrible son? Let her down? You were there when it counted. Despite your own health issues, you made her last wish come true, to stay in her home until the end.” She hugged him tight. “We all loved you very much, even in your absence.”
“Hey,” Caleb shouted so his dad and brother who’d moved to another room could hear, “Mom and Uncle Rodney are getting mushy. Someone save me.”
Rodney held Michelle at arm’s length. “Thank you for everything.” He raised an eyebrow and made a slight nod of his head. She nodded back. They ran and embraced Caleb in a big bear hug. “Too late, buddy. I’ve got quite a bit of lost time to make up.”
“Sentimental old people.” Caleb didn’t return their embrace, but Rodney noted he didn’t try to break it either.
“Speaking of which,” Michelle said, breaking her hold, “I swung by your house and picked up your mail. The letter from Aunt Jenny came.”
Rodney patted his nephew on the shoulder and went back to the table to sit down while
Michelle dug through her tote bag. She pulled a rubber-banded stack from her bag and brought his mail to him.
“So, looking through my mail, are you? What else did I get?” Rodney raised his brows.
“Bills, magazines, junk.” Michelle stood over his shoulder, waiting for him to open the envelope Aunt Jenny finally got into the mail.
He tore a flap corner and ran his finger under it. The seal popped open without much effort. The picture was tucked inside a tri-folded letter written on notebook paper. Rodney drew his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. The image showed two children posed on their knees in front of a couch that a quilt was draped over.
Rodney brought the picture closer, hoping the detail would be clearer. “I don’t know. The flower pattern in the fabric is close, but the blocks aren’t right.” He held the picture up for his sister to take a closer look.
After Michelle studied it, she handed it to Caleb, whose outstretched hand waited for it.
“What are we looking at?” he asked.
“The quilt,” Michelle said. “It’s definitely not the same block. It looks nothing like Mom’s quilt.”
“We’ve hit a dead end, then. I can’t locate any relatives in California, either. I guess we’ll never know.” Rodney sighed, removed his glasses, then scrubbed his face with his hands. What was the story with this quilt? It didn’t just magically appear in his mom’s trunk. “Caroline would probably be interested in looking at the quilt in the picture.”
“Never know what, and who’s Caroline?” Caleb laid the picture on the table.
“When Uncle Rodney was rooting around Grandma’s trunk, he found a quilt that he’s having restored. We thought it might be a family heirloom. Caroline is the lady who restores quilts.” Michelle sat down on a chair and rested her chin in her hand.
Rodney copied Michelle’s stance and stared at the picture as if that would turn the quilt on the couch into the one at Caroline’s house.
“Is the quilt yellow with white flowers and torn?”
Rodney and Michelle turned their heads in sync to look at each other. The astonishment he felt seemed mirrored in Michelle’s features. They both turned toward Caleb.
Dakota Love Page 13
