He hustled to place his hand gently on her arm and said, “No, ma’am. You sit down and I’ll fix breakfast.”
She looked askance for a moment, then patted his arm and nodded. “My pride would like to argue, but I don’t move quite so fast anymore. My breakfast is usually juice, coffee, and a piece of toast.”
As he assisted her to a chair at the large kitchen table, scars still in the wood from the many years she spent fostering boys, he kissed her cheek. “It’d be my honor to fix something for us.”
Turning to the old stove, he found her frying pan and soon had eggs scrambled. Placing bacon slices into the microwave, wrapped in paper towels, he set the timer. Taking the twist-tie off the bread, he slid four slices in her oversized toaster. Pouring the coffee into cups, he turned to place one in front of her.
Within a few minutes, he plated eggs, toast with butter and jam, and bacon. Setting the plate in front of her with a small glass of juice, he quickly did the same for himself.
She bowed her head in prayer and he followed suit, knowing it had been many years since he had bowed his head on his own. As her head lifted, she began to eat slowly, her hands shaking slightly.
“Why boys, Miss Ethel?”
She turned her grey-blue eyes toward him and smiled. “I could have just as easily taken in girls,” she replied. “But the first child that was brought to me was a boy. It was only for a few weeks, but then social services brought me another. Soon, I had three boys in the house and I just felt like it was best to keep taking boys.”
“Keep the temptation down?”
Chuckling, she lifted her cup and took a sip of the hot brew. Nodding her approval at the cream and sugar he had added, she set it down carefully. “Absolutely. I had no idea if I would be keeping the boys for a few days, weeks, or much longer. And, I seemed to have a gift. So, as they brought several more to me, I had twin beds put in the bedroom, so that there could be sharing. In that case, I just preferred to keep to the same gender. I suppose, if I had been brought girls first, that would have worked too.”
“You did have a gift. I don’t know that we recognized it or even appreciated it when we were younger. But I do now.”
She said nothing, but continued to eat, a small smile dancing around her lips. After a minute she pushed her plate back saying, “That was delicious. Thank you.” She leaned back in her chair, her eyes pinning his. “I’ve got the feeling you have something on your mind, Alexander. I’ve got nothing but time, so you take yours.”
Wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin, he folded it and placed it back on the table. Staring at it, he asked, “Why cloth? You always had cloth napkins when paper would have been simpler with a bunch of boys.”
“My, my, you are full of interesting questions today, aren’t you?” she grinned, her laugh lines deepening. Fingering her own napkin, she said, “Most of you boys came from rough backgrounds. Besides trying to teach you care, like how to get along, how to look out for each other, how to be a family…I also tried to instill manners. I knew each one of you would go on to be successful and I wanted you to have the basic sense of propriety.” Chuckling, she said, “I know that doesn’t need cloth napkins, but we always sat down together at dinnertime and it was the one time of the day when you all could talk about whatever you wanted. And we did it sitting at the table like young men.”
He nodded silently. Behaving at the table was instilled soon after he came to her home. Before that, he had eaten any way he could, wherever he could.
Pinning him with her sharp eyes, she said, “Why all the questions today?”
Shrugging, he said, “Miss Ethel, I honestly don’t know. It just seems as though I have so many thoughts going on all at the same time.” She stayed silent, so he continued. “I’ve spent so much time with Rosamond in the past week. I’ve described her room hoping she doesn’t feel scared if she can hear the machines. I’ve described what it looks like outside, thinking maybe she would feel some comfort knowing there are trees outside her window.” Scrubbing his hand over his face, he shook his head. “I don’t know…”
“Sounds to me, son, that in talking to a woman who cannot see anything right now, you’ve opened your eyes as well.”
Her thin fingers reached out to clasp his arm and he looked down at the paper-thin skin covering them, seeing how fragile she now was. His gaze sought hers, the idea that one day she would not be in his life sending a stab straight through his heart.
Opening his mouth several times without saying anything, he finally blurted, “How can I feel something for her? Something so real, based off nothing? Nothing but sitting with her. Talking to her. Reading to her.”
“Worrying about her, also?” she asked softly.
Nodding, he swallowed deeply as he whispered, “Yeah.”
“God chooses people, Alexander.” She held his eyes as she continued to speak. “Sometimes, people are put in our path to walk with us. Maybe for a little while. Maybe for longer. Maybe for a lifetime. You boys think that God put me in your path, but the truth of the matter is, He gave you to me. Becoming your foster mom gave me a purpose…a will to live after my George died. I may not have been a birth mom, but I raised my six siblings, so I knew something about parenting. After George died, I had no reason to get up in the mornings. But you boys…you gave me everything. And honest to God, I loved each of you as soon as you stepped across my threshold.”
He said nothing, but the memory of sitting at her feet in the living room as she passed on life lessons to them all came back to him.
“I don’t know why, but God put you in the path of that young woman. We can’t always see the reasons for what He does, but you were sent to save her. I know the others are afraid you are becoming obsessed because you feel like you were to blame, but that man was going to attack someone, somewhere. He just chose her and your bar at that time. You were placed in her life for a reason. But,” she emphasized, leaning toward him, “I firmly believe she was placed in your path as well…for you.”
Cocking his head to the side, he stared into her eyes, heavy questions creasing his brow.
“You’re a leader, Alexander. I wasn’t surprised when you decided to join the Army when you graduated. But you came back different. Not that I was surprised. My George served in Vietnam and I remember the trouble he’d have sleeping when he returned. You threw yourself into the bar. Stayed loyal to your friends and you certainly took care of me, but I felt as though you closed yourself off to life. Maybe, just maybe, this woman was placed in your place to bring you back to life.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, the only sound was the tick-tock of the clock in the shape of a cat, hanging on the kitchen wall, it’s tail moving back and forth with each second passing. He remembered being fascinated with the clock when he first came to Miss Ethel’s, spending minutes just sitting and staring at the black, plastic tail keeping time.
Sighing, he dragged his mind to the present. “You once told me the measure of a man was not in his mistakes, but in how he handled those mistakes.”
Smiling, she nodded. “I told that to all my boys. And it’s as true today as it was then. And you, Alexander, are a great man.”
They stood together as he gathered the plates and rinsed them off. She held on to his arm as she escorted him to the front door. As he bent to hug her, she whispered, “Don’t worry about your feelings for this woman. Just know that God has a plan for both of you and it will be revealed in time.”
Walking out into the sunshine, he slid his sunglasses onto his face and climbed into his truck. A slight smile curved his lips and his heart felt lighter. Looking at the clock on the dashboard, he knew he had enough time to go to the hospital before getting to the bar.
A flash of light piercing my darkness. The beeps to the side, irritating in their constancy and, yet, I know it is from something to help me. The deep voice told me that. Another flash of light. Fuzzy. A room. I’m in a room. On a bed. Another flash of light. My head hurts. What’s ha
ppening. I’ll go back to the darkness for a while. To the peace.
Zander’s gaze landed on a large bouquet of pink roses in a tall white vase sitting on the shelf near the head of Rosamond’s bed, next to a smaller bouquet of flowers, and a bouquet of balloons. His eyes narrowed, stalking over to read the card. Ruefully shaking his head, he felt his lips twitch as he saw they were from Rafe. The smaller bouquet also held a card. The Grimm’s employees. His heart lightened, knowing the flowers were sent as much for him as for Rosamond. Seeing another card on the strings holding the balloons, he was unable to keep the smile from his lips as he read the signatures in Cael, Jaxon, Jayden, Asher, and Miss Ethel’s familiar scrawl.
Turning back to the bed, he stared down at Rosamond’s face. “Hey,” he greeted, bending over to kiss her forehead. “You’ve got lots of admirers sending you gifts.”
He settled into the comfortable chair and, as usual, took her hand in his, rubbing the soft skin for a moment. Staring at her face, he noticed her lips had slightly more color. A pale pink. His gaze roved over her face, noting the slight blush on her cheeks.
“Come on, Rosamond. You gotta heal, sweetheart. You gotta come out of the sleep.”
She lay motionless and he heaved a sigh. “In the mood for another classic today?” Looking down, he opened the book. Clearing his throat, he said, “I always loved this one. Alex Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo. It’s got everything a young boy could have wanted. Swashbuckling sword fights. Ships on the sea. Bad guys. Good guys who finally get their revenge.” Chuckling, he added, “It’s got romance but, when I was young, I didn’t care so much about that.”
Opening the page, he began. After a while, he read,
“ ‘Often we pass beside happiness without seeing it, without looking at it, or even if we have seen and looked at it, without recognizing it.’ ”
Looking up, he said, “I think that was me, Rosamond. I went about each day, but can’t say I really saw happiness or, when I did, I didn’t even recognize it.”
He leaned back in the chair, the vision of Grimm’s Bar floating through his mind. Lynn laughing when she talked on the phone with her husband or kids. Joe working hard to capture the eye of one of the female patrons. Charlene with her in-your-face attitude, often hiding a heart of gold. Zeke, excited about learning how to manage, finally feeling like more than a bouncer.
“ ‘I don’t think man was meant to attain happiness so easily. Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.’ ”
Scrubbing his hand over his face, he thought back to hearing Rosamond’s tiny voice as she said, “Excuse me,” when she passed by him in the hall and he looked down to first see her beautiful smile. She looked like the sleeping princess in the fairy tale book Miss Ethel read to them and, while he did not recognize it at the time, he wanted to get to know her.
“I should have slain your dragons, Rosamond.” Swallowing deeply, he whispered, “Please forgive me.”
Blinking against the sting of unshed tears, he sucked in a deep breath through his nose. Managing to quell the desire to cry, he bent back to the words on the page. The story continued through deception, survival, redemption. Friendships betrayed. Love lost and love found.
“ ‘All human wisdom is contained in these two words—Wait and Hope.’ ”
Laying the book in the chair as he stood, Zander unlocked the bedrails, sliding them down, and sat on the edge of her bed.
“Wait and hope,” he repeated, gliding his hand along her arm. “That’s what I’ve been doing, Rosamond. Waiting and hoping. But maybe not just for the past few days, but for a long time. Waiting and hoping for something…someone. But you gotta open your eyes. You gotta want to get better. I know it must be nice in there…dark and safe. But, I promise you, sweetheart, you come back into the light and I’ll make it a safe place for you.”
Reaching forward, his hand shaking slightly, he slid his fingertip over her cheek, feeling the petal soft skin. Pushing her tangle of hair back from her forehead, he battled with the desire to get closer.
Her scent, no longer subtle flowers, was hospital antiseptic. And yet, closing his eyes, he could remember the jolt he felt when she first squeezed past him. Her hair, no longer silk and shine, was dull and limp. And yet, he remembered seeing the angelic flow down her back and his hand had longed to reach out and touch her tresses. Knowing he needed to tread carefully, he leaned forward, barely touching his lips to her cheek, the skin cool to the touch. Her body, no longer clothed fashionably in items that hugged her curves was covered in the drab grey of the hospital gown. And yet, he remembered the way his eyes followed her as she walked away from him.
Staring into her sleeping face, he murmured, “Come on, beauty. Come back to me.” Closing his eyes, knowing it was wrong, he touched his lips to hers. A barely-there, whisper of a kiss. Keeping his eyes closed, he leaned back, his heart beating furiously in his chest.
Sighing, he opened his eyes. And his breath halted, shock jolting completely through him. Peering back were light blue eyes, staring straight into his.
13
Zander gasped audibly as his body jerked in surprise. He blinked as her eyes held his, his breath leaving his lungs slowly, afraid to move, not wanting to break the spell.
Her fingers twitched and he gently pressed his hand around hers. They twitched against his fingers again. Now blinking, her eyes appeared unfocused, though they stayed locked on his face. He shifted slightly to the left, still holding her hand and her gaze, positioning his body to block out the stream of sunshine coming through the window.
He knew he should ring for the nurse, but the slight movement of her eyebrows gave him pause. The swelling around her eyes made it impossible for her to open them widely, but the light color of her irises captured his attention.
Suddenly aware of his scruffy beard and rough appearance, he rushed to whisper, “Hey.”
Her eyes moved slightly, roaming over his face.
“It’s okay,” he promised, rubbing his thumb over her hand. “You’re safe. You’ve been asleep…uh…for a while. But, you’ll be fine now.”
Her gaze darted away, jerking quickly to each side before coming back to land on his face. He watched as she swallowed, wincing as though the action caused pain. Seeing the bruises on her throat, he wondered if they made swallowing difficult. Or maybe even speaking.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, afraid she might slip back into sleep. “Just try to stay awake and I’ll keep talking.”
Snaking his free hand over the top of the covers, he pressed the call button. It only took a moment for Chloe to arrive, immediately calling for the doctor while washing her hands.
She hustled efficiently to Rosamond’s side, smiling widely. “Well, hello.” She, too, spoke softly, “My name is Chloe. I’m a nurse. You’re in the hospital and we’re taking care of you.”
Zander frowned, observing no recognition in Rosamond’s face. “Can she hear us? She doesn’t seem to—”
“It’s fine,” Chloe assured. “I’m so sorry…I should have been preparing you for what happens when she wakes up.”
Looking at Chloe’s calm face, he forced his panic to recede. Afraid to speak his fears aloud, he simply nodded, watching as she checked the various machines attached to Rosamond. The blood pressure cuff began expanding while Chloe leaned over, saying, “You might feel this on your arm…just a little squeeze…it’s fine…we’re right here.”
He watched as Rosamond’s eyes moved between his, seeking reassurance. His heart was beating a staccato in his chest and he was sure the sound was audible to all.
Hearing footsteps coming into the room, he identified Dr. Calhoun by his voice as he spoke to Chloe. He was pleased when the doctor moved around him, bending over Rosamond while still allowing him to maintain his hold on her hand.
Speaking as softly as the others, Dr. Calhoun introduced himself, assuring Rosamond they were all glad to
see her awake. He gently examined her, checking her vitals with Chloe. Aware hospital protocol was probably being broken, Zander was glad no one had asked him to leave. He stayed silent, his thumb still moving gently over her hand, observing her gaze continually straying back to him.
As though remembering his audience, Dr. Calhoun twisted his head back and asked, “Zander…can you step outside for a few minutes?”
Inwardly grimacing, he nonetheless nodded, moving back a step. Rosamond’s fingers tightened on his as her eyebrows shot down. Her mouth opened, a hoarse grunt coming forth. He stopped, shock firing through him, not letting go of her hand.
Dr. Calhoun leaned over her, a smile on his face while he said, “It’s okay. He’ll just be outside and then we’ll let him right back in—”
Her face, still swollen and bruised, scrunched horribly as a tear slid from her eye. Another animal groan slipped from her lips and her fingers pulled on his. Her pulse rate shot up, the monitor beeping rapidly.
“I’m not leaving,” he said, his words firm while still in a whisper. “I’ll turn my head…whatever you need me to do, but I’m not leaving her.”
Chloe opened her mouth to speak but Dr. Calhoun immediately agreed. “Fine, fine.” Leaning back over Rosamond, he said, “It’s okay. Shhhh, we’ll let him stay. We want you comfortable.”
Zander turned his head down to study his boots as more nurses filed into the room and he felt Rosamond’s body being moved around gently. Chloe continued a running dialog of soft speech, explaining what they were doing, offering assurances to her.
Finally Dr. Calhoun said, “Everything looks very good. I know this is confusing, but don’t worry. Your body needs to complete its healing. We’ll run more tests to see how you are doing right now.” Moving away, he stood to the side as he ordered new CT scans, Chloe charting his orders.
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