Trouble Don’t Last Always

by Francis Ray

  She blinked. “Sir?”

  “What is wrong with your car?”

  He enunciated each word as if he were talking to a feebleminded person. She flushed and dug her hands into the deep pockets of the white bibbed apron she’d found in the kitchen. “I don’t know. The man who drove the tow truck said no one could look at the car until Monday.”

  “What seemed to be wrong with it?”

  Lilly barely kept from hunching her shoulders and squirming. “I don’t know very much about cars. It just died, then started smoking like a freight train.”

  Folding his arms, Adam leaned against the door. “It’s irresponsible to operate equipment you know nothing about.”

  Her head came up at the chastising tone. It was on the tip of her tongue to say something pithy; then she remembered she needed this job. “Yes, sir. Is that all?”

  “Yes.” He straightened.

  She was several steps down the hall when he said, “Call first thing in the morning to see how soon your car will be ready.” The door closed.

  A chill swept through her. Dr. Wakefield had just given her notice. Her time at Wakefield Manor was running out. She could wait until she was fired or try to figure out a way to ensure that she stayed.

  To remain she had to be of some use to him. But how, when he didn’t want her help?

  With Myron he’d needed her to care for Shayla, to cook and clean, to slake his lust, and, oddly, to dominate. He’d felt power in her weakness.

  That wasn’t the case with Dr. Wakefield. He wanted nothing from her.

  Her spirits sinking, she descended the staircase. There had to be some way to prove to him that he needed her.

  “Think, Lilly. Put yourself in his place. What do you want more than anything?”

  Freedom! Her brain shouted the word. She’d hated being dependent on a man she loathed for the very food she ate, the roof over her head.

  Freedom and independence.

  Her hand on the newel cap, she stared back up the stairs. How much stronger was Dr. Wakefield’s resentment against her, even though his condition wasn’t her fault? She had nothing to do with Myron’s meanness, but she’d suffered his wrath just the same.

  The difference between the two men, she thought, was that Myron struck out of cruelty, Dr. Wakefield from fear. However, both men put her on the defensive and wanted her to keep her thoughts to herself.

  In order to survive with Myron she had let him dictate to her and kept out of his way. If she allowed the same thing to happen with Dr. Wakefield, she might very well end up the homeless person he thought she was.

  Like Daniel in the Bible, she had to be brave enough to enter the lion’s den and pray that, like him, she came out unscathed.

  He shouldn’t have come.

  Jonathan knew that, but he hadn’t been able to convince himself to stay away. Eleanor had sounded so tired and defeated when they had spoken briefly on the phone Saturday night. He’d called her in between one of the four babies he’d delivered. Maxwell had certainly chosen the right night to switch calls. He’d only stay a moment. He just needed to give her something to bring back a hint of the happiness that was usually in her voice.

  Reaching across the seat, he picked up the brightly wrapped rectangular package, climbed out of the car, and started up the brick walkway. As always, the red front door surprised him. That she’d chosen such a bright, sassy color amazed all of them and kept him awake at night wondering if beneath her quiet, reserved nature was a passionate woman whose needs matched his own.

  The door opened and the object of his desire stood smiling at him. Dressed in a white blouse and black slacks, surrounded by an arched arbor of English ivy, she simply made his heart stop.

  “Jonathan, good morning,” Eleanor greeted him, wondering why her heart felt odd in her chest. Perhaps it was because of all the pressure in her life lately. “You’re out early.”

  “I wanted to bring you this.” Lifting the package, he handed it to her.

  Her amber eyes widened, then went from him back to the plum-and-gold paper. “You shouldn’t have.”

  He chuckled, enjoying the delight in her face and eyes. “How do you know if I should or shouldn’t until you’ve opened it?”

  Laughing, she sat down on one of the curved stone benches positioned on each side of the door and tore into the present to reveal a paint set. Her slim fingers reverently traced the sable brushes, the pots of oil and watercolors. “Oh, Jonathan, it’s perfect.”

  All the time he’d spent trying to decide how to bring back her laughter was worth it. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I do, but I don’t have any canvases!” she cried.

  “That’s the third part of my surprise.” He smiled down at her crestfallen expression.

  “Third part?”

  Unable to resist, he sat down beside her, trying to act natural when their thighs brushed together and the heat of her body mingled with his. “Brunch at Antoine’s.”

  For some unfathomable reason she had trouble getting her thoughts together. “I–I can’t leave.”

  He folded his arms over his wide chest, making him appear more impressive and magnificent. “Why?”

  “Adam might need me.”

  “I need you,” he almost blurted. Instead he stood, bringing Eleanor with him. “Lilly is here and you need to eat. I promised Kristen.”

  The lines of annoyance radiating across her forehead cleared. “I know. We talked this morning. You were a good friend to Randolph and now to us.”

  Randolph’s name pricked something deep and sensitive within Jonathan’s soul. He wanted Eleanor to see him as a man, not as the best friend of her dead husband. That she might never do so sent a deep shaft of pain and misery through him. Involuntarily his fingers tightened on her arm; his other hand closed around her free arm, bringing her closer to him.

  The hardness that swept across Jonathan’s face made Eleanor want to run away and, at the same time, lift her hand to the hard line of his jaw to soothe him. Confused, her hands closed more firmly on the paint set between them.

  “Mrs. Wakefield, are you all right?”

  Jonathan’s and Eleanor’s startled gazes jerked sideways. Lilly, her face full of anger, stared at Jonathan.

  Dropping one hand, Jonathan said, “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  Instead of answering, Lilly looked at Mrs. Wakefield. “Are you all right?”

  “Why, yes,” Eleanor finally answered, trying to smile, but her facial muscles were stiff. Not sure what had just happened between them, but realizing that whatever it was Lilly had picked up on it also, she stepped away from Jonathan and off the porch onto the paved walkway. “Is Adam all right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lilly’s gaze flickered to Dr. Delacroix, then came to rest on Eleanor, whose breathing was rapid and cheeks flushed. Then it hit Lilly. Fear wouldn’t cause her cheeks to flush. Desire or embarrassment would. Lilly’s own cheeks burned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t,” Jonathan answered, folding his arms and bracing his shoulder against the arbor. “I was just trying to get Eleanor to have brunch with me.”

  That’s not all he was trying to do, Lilly thought. But since she didn’t see fear in Mrs. Wakefield’s eyes, it was their business. Lilly’s business was keeping her job.

  “I’ve been reading in one of Dr. Wakefield’s medical books about patients’ reactions to sudden blindness, their depression, their fear, how it’s important to normalize their life as soon as possible.” Moistening her dry lips, Lilly shifted from one tennis-shoe-shod foot to the other. “I looked in the yellow pages and there’s a Lighthouse for the Blind in Shreveport. I was thinking maybe they could help.”

  Eleanor briefly closed her eyes. When they opened they were full of pain. Her voice trembled when she said, “Orientation and Mobility was suggested to Adam to acquaint him with his surroundings when he was released from the hospital. He refused to have the training because he insisted he did
n’t need it because his vision would return.”

  Blinking tears from her eyes, she wrapped her arms around her waist. “I went along with him because I didn’t want him to think I’d lost faith.”

  She peered over her shoulder at Jonathan. “I guess I should have listened to you.”

  Jonathan went to stand by Eleanor, his narrowed gaze on Lilly. “Very astute observation and ingenious on your part.” He glanced down at Eleanor. “I guess you were right to hire her. But Lilly points up an important fact. Perhaps we need someone with experience to care for Adam.”

  Lilly’s burgeoning happiness took a nosedive; then she did something totally out of character for her. “I may not be experienced, but I got him to eat and clean up. No one else has been able to do that.”

  Jonathan lifted a heavy brow at her defensive tone. The gesture was enough to make Lilly remember the influence he had with the Wakefields.

  Her voice softened, but the conviction remained. “With the right help, I can do more.”

  “I’ll contact the Lighthouse tomorrow,” Eleanor said, excitement in her voice. “Anything else?”

  “Maybe you could send for some of his clothes. Washable pants and pullover shirts. It would be nice if there was a table in his room for him to eat on, a way to tell time, books on tape, and one of those battery-operated tape recorders with big control buttons. Puffy paint?”

  “Puffy paint?” Eleanor and Jonathan repeated in unison.

  “To mark the tags in his clothes and his toilet articles so he can distinguish them.” She ordered herself not to fidget under their intense stares. “That’s how it was done in the textbook.”

  “I’ll call Kristen and ask her to send his things overnight.” Eleanor shook her head. “He said his housekeeper was sending the rest of his things. I’m beginning to wonder since they aren’t here.”

  “Then he’ll be happy when they arrive,” Lilly said, straight-faced.

  Eleanor’s lips curved. “Won’t he? Thank you for caring, Lilly. Excuse me; I’ll go call Kristen.” The front door closed behind her.

  Lilly turned to go.

  “Lilly?” Jonathan called softly.

  Clutching the book to her chest, she made herself face him.

  “I want what’s best for Adam. If that’s you, good. If not, then we get someone else. Are we clear?”

  “Very.” Turning, Lilly started back to the main house, her mind troubled, her steps slow. One hurdle down, one to go.

  Odette and Samuel were returning tomorrow.

  Eleanor was nervous.

  In all the long years of her association with Jonathan, she’d felt many emotions while with him, but nervousness had never been one of them. As she sat beside him while he maneuvered the Mercedes through the surprisingly heavy Sunday traffic at the shopping mall in Shreveport, her thoughts were troubled. She kept her gaze forward.

  When she’d gone inside to call Kristen, she’d actually felt relief to be away from Jonathan. If there had been any way of getting out of him taking her shopping for Adam, she would have grabbed at the chance. As it was, she was trapped in the car beside him, unsettled and unsure.

  What had happened between them just before Lilly arrived at the cottage?

  Hell, Eleanor, she chided herself, as she seemed unable to keep from looking at Jonathan’s strong, chiseled profile as he patiently waited for a woman to store the several packages scattered around her feet in the trunk of her car so he could park in her space, you are not that naive. There had been a spark of awareness between them. Sudden, sharp, and powerful.

  And totally unexpected. It had rattled her, and her stomach had yet to settle.

  Obviously it had meant nothing to him. On the drive from Adam’s house to the shopping mall thirty minutes away, Jonathan’s easygoing demeanor was the same as it always was. He remained the same good old reliable Jonathan she had grown to depend on more and more over the years.

  Leaning back against the smooth leather seat, Eleanor was grateful he had chosen to ignore whatever it was that had caused them to react so strongly to each other. No doubt it was due to the stress they both were under. Whatever the reason, it couldn’t be allowed to happen again. Adam and Kristen had to be her main concern, her only concern.

  Finally the woman got in her car and backed out. Jonathan pulled into the parking space, cut the motor, then unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m glad she wasn’t shopping with another woman or we might have been waiting until the mall closed.”

  “Women are selective. Men just grab,” Eleanor said. The instant the words were out of her mouth, Eleanor felt the slow roll in her stomach again and quickly busied herself with her seat belt. “It shouldn’t take too long to get the things on Lilly’s list; then I want to return.”

  “What about lunch and your canvases?”

  “Maybe another time.” Opening the door, Eleanor got out of the car.

  Eleanor was a master shopper and she used her skill to quickly purchase the list of items for Adam. But always, always she was aware of Jonathan’s presence, the heat from his body, his disturbing gaze. By the time they returned to the car, she was even more on edge and not looking forward in the least to the thirty-minute drive back to Wakefield Manor.

  He’d done it now.

  Eleanor was skittish and nervous around him, and it was his own fault. She’d jumped each time he had even casually brushed up against her while they were shopping. He hadn’t dared try to take her arm as he usually did when they were out.

  He had already guessed that the only reason she’d consented to letting him take her shopping instead of driving herself was that she hadn’t been able to think of a gracious way out. In all things, Eleanor was a lady. At the moment, the lady wanted nothing to do with him.

  All his fault.

  He shouldn’t have grabbed. It hadn’t been the right time. Hell, he didn’t know if there would ever be a right time, but at least he’d had her friendship. Now, he wasn’t sure if he’d still have that.

  Turning into the driveway of Adam’s house, he tried to think of something to say to break the silence that had plagued them since they had gotten back into the car, but nothing came. As before, as soon as he braked, she was out of the car. He watched her practically run up the walkway.

  Gritting his teeth, he got out and reached in the backseat for the bags. She was waiting for him at the door, her smile overly bright and strained. “Thank you, Jonathan, for taking me shopping. You must have a million things to do on a Sunday. I’ll take the packages so you can be on your way.”

  He stared down into Eleanor’s tense face, seeing the narrow line of her compressed lips, the nervous fluttering of the pulse in her neck as she stood in her doorway strategically blocking his entrance. One at a time, he handed her the two bags. “Anytime.”

  “I’ll just go put my purse down and take these straight to Lilly.”

  Jonathan knew a brush-off when he heard it. “If you need me, call.”

  “I’ll be fine. I shouldn’t bother you so much.”

  His eyes narrowed. It was all he could do not to snarl. “Adam is your son, but he’s my godson and I love him, too. Call if either of you need anything.”

  The bright smile wavered, firmed. “I will. Good-bye.”

  The door closed with a quiet click. As he walked to his car, Jonathan had the distinct impression that there would be no calls. Eleanor had just shut him out of her life and he had no one to blame but himself.

  Eleanor waited until she saw Jonathan drive off before she left the cottage. She wasn’t proud of herself. She’d never run from anything or turned her back on a friend before. Today she’d done both.

  Nearing the house, she stared up at the window to Adam’s room and wondered if she might have to amend her earlier statement. Had she run from the truth that Adam’s blindness might be permanent and, in doing so, let him continue to cling to a false hope that was destroying him day by day?

  “Mrs. Wakefield.”

  Eleanor glanc
ed around to see Lilly sitting beneath one of the huge oak trees near the back door to the kitchen. She’s too thin, Eleanor thought, noticing with a discerning eye the way the wind shaped the cotton dress to Lilly’s slender frame. The possibilities were there. Waiting. She just needed a touch of makeup and the right clothes to bring them out, just as the right words were needed to bring Adam out of his shell.

  “Is everything all right?” Lilly asked.

  “Yes.” Eleanor continued across the lawn. “Here are the things you wanted.”

  Automatically Lilly took the bags. “Would you like to come inside for a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I told Adam I was leaving the house and technically I am, since he gave me the cottage. A minor point, but one that I feel is necessary. So unless something is extremely important, we’ll keep in touch by phone,” Eleanor said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Eleanor nodded toward one of the bags. “Adam is a big mystery fan. I picked up a couple of books on tape he should enjoy. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”

  “I will.”

  “Odette and Samuel should arrive early tomorrow morning. I’ve left a message on their answering machine to call me tonight no matter how late it is when they arrive home. I’ll explain the entire situation to them.”

  Lilly’s fingers dented the paper sack. “You don’t think they’ll mind me being here, do you?”

  “No. From my experience with them, there’s not a mean or territorial bone in their bodies. From the first, they’ve been wonderful to Adam. He trusts them so much they have a household account so they don’t have to call him about every little thing they need to ensure the house is cared for.”

  “How long have they worked for him?”

  “Five years. They were here when Adam bought the house. He bought it shortly after his father’s death.”

  “You’re widowed?” Lilly asked.

  “Yes.” Eleanor fingered the diamond ring on her finger. “Randolph and I shared thirty-nine wonderful years together. I miss him still.”

  “You’re one of the lucky couples to have found love,” Lilly said, wondering what being loved by a man you loved must feel like.