Heel to toe he stepped, hoping this concentrated effort would halt the wildfire spread of a blush from his ears to his cheeks.
Lil seemed to have lost interest in his every move. When he looked up, she stood in front of the range with her back to him, fumbling with a cast-iron skillet.
“That’s better.”
Walt frowned. Did the woman have eyes in the back of her head?
Continuing his slow pace, Walt aimed the walker at the bathroom door at the opposite end of the wall from the bedroom door.
Holding up the pan and waving her hand above the electric burner element, Lil let out a snort. “I thought that bathroom was a pantry.” She giggled. “Was I surprised when I opened the door! Although it reminds me of the girls’ locker room at my high school, the walk-in shower with no tub is a good setup for you.”
She held her hand closer to the burner. Obviously satisfied with the heat level, she centered the pan on the burner.
Heel to toe, heel to toe. Walt fumed, repeating his walking instructions faster while his walker clacked, like typewriter keys, on the linoleum flooring. She’d snooped through everything while he rested.
He reached the narrow door and stopped. Why did they make walkers wider than doors?
“Let me help with that.”
Fear banged his heart against his chest. It was one thing to snoop through cupboards, but this? Walt placed a hand on the counter for balance.
“I’ve got it,” he declared louder than he intended. He gripped the middle of the upper bar on the walker and gave it a quick twist.
Stepping carefully and using the door for stability, Walt followed the walker through the door, slamming it shut just as the squeak of Lil’s footsteps grew closer.
He’d dodged a bullet. Leaning against the door, Walt sucked in air, hoping to calm the panic coursing through him. If the last four hours were any indication, he’d never make it through the six-week convalescent period.
He needed to set some ground rules. He’d have a talk with Lil.
“You and I need to talk.” Lil pointed the blunt end of a wooden spoon at him.
The hiss of the frying pan called her attention back to its contents. She twirled the spoon like a baton before dipping the rounded end and swirling it around the pan.
“I know we do.” Walt hoped she’d heard his I-mean-business tone over the sizzle of the vegetables hitting the pan.
Steam rose and filtered through the air, assaulting his nostrils. His stomach gurgled its approval of the sautéing onions.
“I hope you like veggie and cheese frittata.”
“Fra-what-a?” Walt frowned. How could he know if he liked it if he couldn’t even pronounce it? “I don’t eat fancy food.”
Lil turned from the stove, giving him a deadpan look. “A frittata is not fancy food.”
The pressure on the ball of Walt’s right foot reminded him to flatten his step as his walker and stomach raced to the range.
Bits of translucent onions popped in a greenish oil.
“Legs feeling stronger?” Lil looked over her shoulder at Walt.
He nodded as he inhaled deeply. A low rumble started in his stomach and built to a full-fledged growl.
“Here.” Lil stuck the spoon handle out. “Stir these while I add the other ingredients. By the sounds of it”—she jerked her head toward his midsection—“I should have started this earlier, but I didn’t know what time you ate supper.”
Walt bore his weight on his left leg as he stirred the onions around the pan. “What are you frying these in?”
Lil dropped in a handful of sliced mushrooms. The off-white pieces looked nothing like the golden bits he dumped out of a can.
“Olive oil.”
“I told you I don’t eat fancy food.” His stomach rumbled its plea for a taste. Traitor.
“Stir,” Lil commanded.
Walt dragged the spoon around the edges of the pan, then through the center, watching the meat of the mushrooms darken.
The tap-snap of eggshells competed with the continued sizzle of the frying pan.
“That’s what we need to discuss.” Lil rapidly moved a fork through a bowl, the tinkle of metal on glass keeping a steady beat.
She set the bowl on a cool burner. Green specks swirled through the settling mixture then began to float to the top of the frothy beaten eggs.
“That looks fancy.”
“They’re dried herbs. You need to change your diet.”
Walt tapped the spoon on the side of the pan, freeing a stuck cluster of mushrooms and onions. “What makes you say that?”
Apparently oblivious to the gruffness in Walt’s voice, Lil added a tight ball of something green to the pan.
“The lard in your fridge. I didn’t even know they sold that anymore.” Palm up, she wiggled her fingers at Walt, signaling she wanted the spoon back. Walt acquiesced then watched as Lil broke up the green lump, spreading it through the pan.
“What’d you do to that spinach?”
“Squeezed out the moisture so our eggs aren’t runny.” Lil dumped the contents of the bowl into the pan and gave it a quick stir before sprinkling it with white cheese. Then she covered it with a beat-up pizza pan.
“I hope this makeshift lid works. Your kitchen utensils are sparse, but then again, it doesn’t take much to heat up processed food.”
Walt jutted his jaw in defense. Obviously, she’d poked around in his cupboards. That was the conversation they needed to have. Respect for others’ privacy. “I eat a varied and balanced diet.”
“Of canned, processed food. You need to eat fresh food, organic if available so you can control the sodium and soak up the nutrients.”
Lil waved Walt away from the stove then stuck the pan in the oven to finish the cooking process.
The burst of heat from the oven warmed Walt’s pant legs. “I have a serving of each food group, just like they taught in school.” Argue with that one.
“Fruit laced in corn syrup packs more calories than the sugars in fresh fruit, and if I remember right, you are a borderline diabetic.”
Lil beat Walt to the table, where she pulled a file from her bag.
Jaw clenched, Walt gingerly sat down. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the calendar hanging above the wall-mounted Princess phone.
Six weeks, forty-two days, one thousand eight hours…
“Walt.”
The soft warmth of Lil’s hand on his forearm stopped his calculations and trembled his insides, her plump fingers pillows against his sun-crinkled skin. Those pain meds must have heightened his sensations instead of dulling them.
The slight pressure of her squeeze pulled him back into the conversation.
“What?” He meant the answer to be gruff; instead the word came out husky.
“I’m not trying to be critical. It’s just that proper nutrition helps a body to heal.”
“Faster?” Walt relaxed his face into a smile, the first since his surgery.
“Can’t hurt,” Lil answered with the gusto of a person who thought she’d won the argument. Victory dancing through her green eyes, she returned his smile.
Walt’s smile widened as his mood brightened. The sooner he could get his solitary lifestyle back, the better—even if it meant eating new-age food.
A week later, Lil cut the last petal piece of her Rose of Sharon quilt project from the bright yellow cotton fabric while Walt paced through the living room.
Up and down the short piece of clear walking path he went for what seemed like the hundredth time this hour. He was antsy. They’d watched all his Jerry Lewis movies. Walt needed a hobby to pass the time.
“Walt, does your incision hurt? Are you in pain?”
“Nope.” The walker clacked across the living room floor, stopping by the window, also for the hundredth time in an hour. He peered out at the same not-yet-harvested cornfield that Lil could see from her vantage point.
“Anything changed out there since five minutes ago?” Lil picked at the l
oose threads that had been made by cutting the fabric and were now scattered on her jeans.
Walt leveled her with a look.
“Guess not.” She laughed then picked up a piece of dark green material and began to cut around the tracing of the stem pattern. “Want to help?” She held out the scissors and fabric to Walt.
He frowned and shook his head. “Looks like a nice day. I’d like to go for a walk.”
“Good idea.” Lil put her fabric on the wide arm of the sofa then rocked forward, lifting herself off the couch.
“Can’t though. I’m housebound.”
“Who said that?”
“The nurse at the VA hospital.”
“There’s nothing in your file about it,” she said, pretty sure the confusion on Walt’s face mirrored hers.
“Well”—Walt’s voice held a gruff edge—”I’m not senile. I know she said that while I recovered at home, I’d have to stay inside the house.”
Lil’s hackles rose at his inference that she was the senile one. “And I’m telling you the doctor’s instructions say normal activity as tolerated.” Pleased that her tone held just the right amount of authority, she gave a quick nod of her head for emphasis.
Leaning so close to the window that the tip of his nose grazed the glass pane, Walt reminded her of a punished child.
“Why do you make a case out of everything? I’ll get the file for proof.” Lil started for the kitchen, longing for some fresh air and exercise, too.
The walker thumped behind her.
“Don’t get snappy. I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”
Walt’s statement threw the light switch in her brain. She stopped short.
Walt didn’t. His walker bar grazed her backside, pushing her forward in a trip step. The toe of her plastic shoe sticking to the oak floor caused her to stumble a couple of steps before she could right her balance.
“Whoa there, Speedy. Don’t get faster than your feet will go.” Walt chuckled.
Ready to retort, Lil whirled around, finger in air, intending to coerce an apology out of him. Instead the merriment that waltzed on his features caused her heart to somersault. Relaxed and happy, Walt Sanders is one handsome man. She drew her brows together. Where had that come from?
“Sorry, Lil, but you looked a little like Jerry Lewis bumbling around in his movies.”
Thinking of the antics in the movie they’d watched yesterday afternoon, she grinned. “I imagine I did.”
Her admission gave Walt permission to release the laughter bubbling inside of him. The walker rattled with his shaking shoulders, competing with Walt’s baritone guffaws.
The good medicine of laughter eased the tightness in his shoulders. His body no longer tense, his stance resembled his nephew’s.
As Walt’s last chuckle died, he cleared his throat. “I think I needed that.”
“I think so, too. What do you say we try a walk around the inner circle of the RV park?”
Walt grimaced. “I’d really like to, Lil—”
Snapping her fingers, Lil interrupted him. “That’s why I stopped. Did a nurse at the VA hospital talk to you about home health care?”
Walt’s eyes rounded. “That’s their rules.”
Lil nodded. The private nursing company that she worked for allowed the patients more freedom than the other service.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Walt tipped his head toward the kitchen door. “After you. Just warn me if you plan to stop.”
Stopping outside of the door, Walt zipped his jacket to stave off the bite of the breeze. He inhaled, pulling in the crisp air spiced with faint diesel smoke and dry dirt.
Home. He never tired of the roar of eighteen wheels on pavement. He never tired of the tractors and combines manipulating the fertile soil. He never tired of the changing seasons.
Fall’s crisp air rejuvenated his soul just like spring’s warm breezes coaxed out the buds on the trees and flowers. Summer’s heat and humidity were nature’s perfect greenhouse for corn crops to flourish, while winter snows blanketed the slumbering ground like Gert’s warm quilts on a bed.
He never understood the folks who headed south in the winter. Although South Dakota winters could be harsh and unrelenting, the snowbirds missed so much. The stark red of the male cardinal balanced on the needled branch of a snow-kissed pine tree. The frozen crystal-crusted snow that glistened like sequined costumes under stage lights. The hushed solitude after the vicious blizzard winds died.
“Have a change of heart?” Lil stood at the end of the sidewalk where it met the gravel driveway.
Walt released a breath. “Just enjoying my home. The air is so invigorating. Let’s walk the outer loop of the campsite.”
Lil’s lips made a grim line. “I don’t think you have enough stamina for that. You’ll need to build it back up. As a matter of fact, our first stop is going to be my camper so I can grab a lawn chair to carry, in case you find you need to sit down.”
“Gonna be a waste of your time.” Walt rubbed his palms together before placing his hands on the walker and taking a step. Heel to toe, heel to toe. When he reached the end of the sidewalk, Lil fell into step with him.
“Careful of the loose gravel.” She stopped and tapped the heel of her shoe on the ground.
Walt stepped past her. From the distance of the house, he hadn’t noticed her top-of-the-line rig. “Whoa, two sliders. Fancy food and fancy camper.”
Lil passed him. Glancing over her shoulder, she raised a brow and gave him a grim look, but her eyes held a glimmer of merriment. Her emerald eyes. Thank goodness he hadn’t dreamed about them again. Funny how a dream could change when the dreamer was induced with medicine.
After a few minutes, they reached the camper. Lil reached up to open the door.
“I’d invite you in, but that entry step isn’t stable enough. I’ll be right back.”
Walt grabbed the edge of the door. “Can I peek inside?”
“Sure.” A little grunt escaped Lil as she used the door edge to help hoist herself up. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Maneuvering the walker as close to the opening as possible, Walt leaned into the doorway. Rich brown paneling covered the walls of the living room area where a matching love seat and two overstuffed chairs upholstered with a green-and-brown leaf pattern sat bolted to the floor.
A purple-backed quilt with embroidered blocks rested over the back of the love seat. Sprigs of various-colored lilacs finely stitched onto lavender fabric blended well with the earthy furniture and walls. Her blanket appeared to be as loved and used as the quilt covering his bed.
The kitchenette’s counter jutted out about a foot, and with the living room slider out, it created a homey feel of actual rooms, unlike the campers from years ago. A sewing machine sat on the tabletop visible through the open area between the cupboards and the counter.
Scattered in the chairs were several plastic sacks stamped with various fabric-store logos. Walt smiled, thinking of Gert, Mark, and Sarah.
The purr of a plastic roller on a closet door reverberated through the small space. Lil appeared with a blue canvas folding lawn chair in hand.
“What do you think?” She stopped, holding her arm out and slowly turning her body as if she were a showroom demonstrator.
“Nice. Cozy.” Walt stepped back to allow Lil’s exit. “How long you had it?”
Lil pushed the door shut. “I bought it just before I turned sixty, so almost two years now. Usually about this time I head to Texas for the winter.”
Walt pursed his lips and shook his head. “Didn’t peg you for a snowbird.” He lifted the walker and took a step.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Lil fell in beside him.
“Don’t you miss the change of seasons?”
“I leave in late October and come home at the end of April. The only season I miss is winter.”
“Then don’t you miss the holidays with your family?” His peripheral vision caught the slight shrug of h
er shoulders.
“Without a family of my own, I’m kind of like my camper. A fifth wheel.”
“I can relate to that, but…” Walt stopped to rest a minute. They’d only gone about a third of the way around the inner driveway. “Gert, Mark’s mom, always included me even after my only brother, Duane, abandoned them.”
He seldom talked about his brother because he was so ashamed of what he’d done. The concern in Lil’s eyes prompted him to go on. “He left right after Gert was diagnosed with MS. Mark was five. None of us ever heard from Duane again. One day in 1997, I got word that he passed away. I just hope God forgave him for what he did, because I didn’t.”
“God is in the forgiveness business if you’re right with Him.”
Throat choked with emotion and mist forming in his eyes, Walt nodded and stared out at the interstate. He hoped her words were true. He’d been right with God for years, but he’d been to Nam. Terrible things happened during war, and he came back to an unforgiving nation, an unforgiving woman. His hope lay in the promise of the scriptures. It’s what got him through his terrible ordeal.
“Do you need to sit?” Lil asked with a whisper of a voice.
Walt sniffed. “No.” He moved the walker and took a step. He’d have to cut back on the pain medicine if Lil would allow. He liked his emotions buried in the depth of his heart, not hanging around the surface, spilling out anytime they felt like it.
“Was your brother younger or older?”
“Younger.” Duane was a lucky one; his number never came up.
“I have an older sister. By three minutes.” Lil giggled. “I never let Lily forget it either.”
Gripping the walker, Walt started to angle around the circular part of the driveway. A rivulet of sweat trickled down his back as his breaths came quicker. “I think I’d better sit a minute.”
Lil pulled open the chair and placed it behind him. “I’ll hold it while you sit so it doesn’t tip.”
Carefully, Walt lowered into the chair. Not the best support for his sore hip, but it would do. “So there are two of you with the same name?”
Lil scooted around the chair to look at him before she spoke. The breeze lifted her white curls, rearranging them in tangles on the top of her head. She reached up with both hands and smoothed the front edges behind her ears. The natural light of day revealed age’s effects—a few brown spots on her hands and vertical creases by her nose—but her ivory skin and twinkling green eyes gave her a youthful glow.
Dakota Love Page 33
