by Cheryl Wyatt
“Yep.” When she went to push flowers into the vase, some stems didn’t make it in. Mitch came to the rescue by wrapping his fingers around the flowers.
They both drastically slowed their motions. Drawing the tender moment out.
She was enjoying immensely the warm contact of their hands meshing together to mend a barely living thing. Like in surgery. Like we are meant to be.
Caught completely off guard by the out-of-nowhere thought, Lauren looked up to find Mitch watching. Had he read her mind?
Perhaps they were fueled by the romantic childhood storybooks that Lem still kept in her room and had read to her every summer. Reading and fishing with him were two of her favorite pastimes.
Placing the flowers as the centerpiece, Lauren helped Mitch set the table. Something suddenly hit her. “Mitch, if I spent summers with Grandpa and you grew up here, how come we never met before?”
“Probably because I was shipped away for summers.”
“And I spent every off-summer season at relatives’ houses.”
Mitch leaned in. “Lauren, you should know that Lem once told me he agonized over discovering how unhappy you were by moving around. Had he known at the time, he would have sued for full custody.” For some reason, Mitch’s own words stiffened him.
“What’s wrong?” Lauren asked.
“Ian’s facing a painful custody battle. His marital problems began during deployment. Which cements my assumption that distance only mangles a marriage.”
“Kate said they had problems beforehand.”
“Still, I’m convinced absence does not grow hearts fonder.” His expression sobered.
“Sounds like you know from personal experience.”
He shrugged and dragged a sip of coffee from his cup. Then averted his gaze. After an introspective moment, he tipped his forehead toward Lem as he returned. “Your grandpa and that cornfield were the best things to ever happen to me. It’s when I learned about choice and consequence.”
“About sowing and reaping,” Lem added as he sat.
Mitch eyed Lem with fondness and respect. “Took me under his wing. Taught me faith in Jesus and how to make a mean pot of chili. Became like a second dad. A spiritual father.”
Lem patted Mitch’s forearm. “And I consider you my son. I don’t know what I would have done all these years without you. Even when you weren’t here, you made sure I was taken care of.”
Mitch laughed. “So you know about all the people I had checking in on you and doing things for you?”
“Wasn’t tough to figure out. They came like clockwork. You must’ve formulated a schedule of revolving folks or something.”
Mitch smiled. “I’ll never tell.”
Mitch’s doting over Grandpa like a son pressed Lauren’s blood pressure to dangerous limits because her face flamed hotter by the second. Anger at herself, too, for not seeing to it that Grandpa was looked after. For not even considering that he might need to be. Her self-absorption made her as mad as Mitch’s intruding into what should be her second chance with Grandpa.
She rubbed her chest but the sudden tightness would not go away. Anxiety? The invisible claw that Lem’s obvious care for Mitch clenched her shoulders with wouldn’t release her. Neither would the jealous envy she struggled against.
She should have that closeness with Grandpa. Not Mitch.
She used to. Why was Grandpa letting Mitch replace her? Did loneliness make him desperate enough to do something so drastic?
Her appetite fled so she methodically stabbed her food as if it were the cause of her emotional quandary.
Lem didn’t even notice. Rather, he beamed at Mitch’s tender words and seemed to stand taller. Then tapped an ice tong atop Lauren’s shoulder as if knighting her. “It’s good to have someone looking out for me. Then Lauren can go about her life.”
His statement devastated her.
“Ain’t that right, carrottop?” Lem rustled her hair then whistled his way back to the stove. But looked back when she didn’t answer. To Mitch’s credit, he looked apologetic.
Lauren nodded to be polite because what else could she do with that influx of information? She’d process it later. For now, she’d try to fight the hurt and bitterness inside her heart. “I’m glad you’ve been there for him.” She tried to mean it. Maybe if she said it often enough, it would be true. “You’ve obviously been a bright spot in his life.”
He laughed. “Yeah, like a bad sunburn at times, I’m sure.”
That gave Lauren an unexpected laugh. While he annoyed her, she enjoyed his unexpected transparency and well-placed humor.
Lem left the stove and joined them. “He was quite a handful in his youth.” He squeezed Mitch’s shoulder. “But he turned out all right.” Lem let them carry the serving dishes to the table.
Mitch maneuvered Lauren’s chair then draped a linen napkin over her, which sparked an extra twinkle in Grandpa’s owlish eyes. “We’re glad you joined us today without getting paged away.” Lem elbowed Lauren when she didn’t answer. “Aren’t we?”
Lauren gave Grandpa a wry smirk. “Of course we are,” she said through a clenched jaw.
She forced herself to curtsy, then sat. “You must be giving the debonair fellow chivalry lessons, Grandpa. If so, your prince of a pupil deserves an A-plus.”
“Then you, my princess, should attend my library event with him.”
The shock on Mitch’s face would have made the world’s most hilarious social-network profile photo.
“Grandpa, may I remind you I’ll be gone at summer’s end or earlier.”
“And the event is six months away,” Mitch added coolly.
Yet as Lauren relaxed at Lem’s table, she couldn’t get past feeling like a front-row observer at the heart of an epic rebirth. Of new memories being made. Of faith. And of a God-woven, willfully reconstructed family.
What was up with that?
Mitch cast concernedly cryptic looks her way before dipping his head toward her plate. “Better eat. We have a long day.”
“We?”
He nodded. “I need you to run some errands with me.”
Lem aimed a butter knife at Mitch. “He’s up to something sneaky. Won’t tell me what, though.”
Lauren pivoted to study Mitch. “What errands?”
“You’ll see.” Expression purposely vague, he winked at her then ate another bite of the food Lem piled on his plate.
Suspicion rose like the lemonade he refilled in her cup.
* * *
“This doesn’t constitute an errand,” Lauren said an hour later as Mitch pulled into the trauma center lot.
Mitch parked his truck near the entrance but kept the engine running. “I didn’t say you had to go in.” He grinned.
She refused to let it melt her. “Good. Because I’m not.”
She had to set boundaries; otherwise he’d finagle her into helping full-time. Arms folded, she turned to admire a floral explosion of color lining the parking lot, courtesy of ornamental shrubs.
“Suit yourself.”
“I plan to.”
He looked about to say some snarky phrase, but his mouth flattened into a determined line instead. Which made her wonder like mad what he was thinking.
She’d probably be better off not knowing.
And she’d for sure be better off not to notice the fluid way his muscles moved when he walked. Nor should she be remotely intrigued by how intent his expression became whenever he shifted into trauma work mode. Yet she was.
With more difficulty than she wanted to admit, she forced her gaze and musings away from him.
She studied hummingbirds flitting in feeders next to a garden area. They held her attention for only so long.
After a conflicted moment, she stared at the e
ntrance.
Looked away.
“I’m not going in.” Her eyes veered toward the front doors again. “I mean it.” Tearing her gaze away proved tougher this time. She studied the beauty of the building…only to catch glimpses of staff scurrying about inside.
They looked busy. Lauren looked away.
Her thoughts stayed. How were the in-house patients? She fought wonder. Her eyes strayed to room 24, Mara’s, the texting teen’s.
How was she today? Still comatose? Lauren shouldn’t speculate. Especially since she had no intention of going back in there and involving herself in Mara’s care. Images of the girl became too vivid to fight. Lauren found herself twisting to get any glimpse of movement inside room 24. Nothing.
Lauren’s heart began to thud. Had Mara perished in the night like Kate had feared and Ian had said she deserved? What painful part of Ian’s life caused him to say such a heartless thing?
Sweet Mara, such a mess you’ve made. One choice. So much chaos. And she may never know. Her family hadn’t come. Why? How horrible was it to die utterly alone?
Something broke in Lauren. Perhaps the last frayed strands of resistance. She cut the ignition and jerked out Mitch’s keys. The medical emblem on his key chain caught light and brought home the nursing creed she’d excitedly vowed on her licensure day.
And she lost the battle.
“Fine. I’ll go in. But only for a minute.”
As she checked on Mara, Mitch joined her at the bedside. “Still unresponsive, yet improved on the coma scale. We haven’t been able to transfer her to another facility because she’s so unstable. Merely moving her up in bed caused her to code.”
Lauren turned. “When?”
“One day when you weren’t here. She had a bad few days.”
“All on days I was gone?”
Mitch seemed to think hard a moment. “Yeah, actually.”
Lauren always spent time talking to Mara. “Do you think my not being here adversely affected her?” Lauren could scarcely bear the thought of that.
She met his eyes. The tense look in them said it all.
“She hears me, doesn’t she? When I talk to her and hold her hand and tell her I’m here, she knows it, doesn’t she?”
He nodded. Which meant Mara might also know when she wasn’t. Lauren trusted Mitch’s integrity. Knew he would never use that to manipulate her to be here. Yet he could have.
Maybe there was more to Mitch than met the eye. Maybe he didn’t merely have his own interests at heart. If he was as focused on others as his discretionary act of refusal to use manipulation hinted, that changed the game from every court. Even the home front.
Respect increased for him, as did compassion for Mara.
Lauren took her hand. “Mara, it’s Nurse Lauren. You’re still in the trauma unit. You’re never alone, okay?”
She squeezed Mara’s hand and could’ve sworn she felt a minuscule tremor in the girl’s finger. Nah. She’d probably imagined it for wishing. Please wake up.
Mitch stepped rapidly closer to the bed. He had the most intense look of concentration as he angled his chin sideways. “Talk to her again, Lauren.”
“God watches over you always. Especially when we humans have to step away to work on other people.”
Mitch leaned closer and pointed at Mara’s eyelids, which fluttered every time Lauren spoke.
Hope and tears welled. “Mara, I hope you wake up soon. You have to see what a very cute doctor you have taking care of you.”
“Look.” He nudged his chin toward Mara’s monitors. “Her heart and respiratory rates elevate with your voice.”
“Which means?”
“She knows.” He grinned.
Lauren giggled. “She knows what? That you’re cute?”
His ears reddened. “No, silly. That you’re here and that you care.” When the nurses came to change Mara’s dressings, Mitch offered to do it instead. Lauren assisted him, then they exercised Mara’s legs to prevent blood clots and the like. Afterward, Ian came and checked on her vent settings and cleared her airway with a suction tube. Mara’s numbers reached alarm point, but they got her calmed down with medication.
“She’s agitated and tired. We wore her out. Let’s allow her to rest.” They reluctantly slipped from her room. But not before Mitch bent and brushed a fatherly kiss on Mara’s forehead. “Get better, kiddo.”
Lauren almost fell flat on her face in love right then.
Mitch wasn’t as hard-hearted as he’d like her to believe. Therefore her heart had better be on its best behavior and quit trying to defy her resolve not to fall for him.
Chapter Twelve
“I have no intention of leaving Texas.” The second Lauren drove that metaphoric tractor over his chest, Mitch woke with a start. Gasping and drenched with sweat, he sat up.
Then realized it was a dream.
Yet Lauren’s words still rang in his ears. No intention of leaving Texas.
“And I have no intention of letting myself fall for you,” he hollered to the air, then immediately realized how ridiculous he sounded.
The complication of romance would be the worst-case scenario in his life right now.
Plus, with her home being in Texas, he refused to even consider it.
But why was he sitting here arguing with himself over it? It was, after all, just a dream.
Mitch flipped covers off and tried to figure out if he looked forward to this day or not.
Unfortunately he might have to contend with this annoying attraction until the day she left. Because no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the feelings wouldn’t wane.
Breakfast this morning was going to be an unpleasant, uncomfortable experience.
But he refused to stay away from Lem or neglect their friendship because of Lauren.
She’d get over her envy. Eventually.
When he arrived at Lem’s, Lauren was still in bed with no apparent inclination to get up. Maybe the whole attraction ordeal was giving her nightmares, too. Served her right for running a tractor over his chest. He still felt annoyed about it.
Then he heard noises from Lauren’s bedroom. Since her door was open, Mitch stood respectfully there. “Something wrong?”
“What’s not wrong?”
He waited for her to vent because it looked like she needed to. If he was getting to know her as well as he thought, she’d share if he stood there and kept quiet instead of offering solutions.
She swiped hair out of her eyes. “For one thing, the whole world seems intent on destroying my time with Grandpa. You’re taking over my life with him. Then the contractors called today during our fishing time—” Her voice quivered. She stood up. He stepped back to let her through.
But she paced right where she was. “They aren’t abiding by our renovation terms. My friend is freaking out. And I’m not there to oversee it.”
He bit his lip against giving advice.
She flopped back onto the bed in a comical motion. “She wants me to come back and deal with it. I want to spend the summer here.”
“So set boundaries. Spend the summer here.”
She groaned and shoved a pillow over her head but looked as though she’d much rather shove it over Mitch’s and hold it there.
Lem joined them. He leaned against her doorway. “I think you should be patient. Things will come around.”
“I think you should move to Texas so I can have you to myself without interference.” She shot Mitch a look.
Lem crossed his arms. “I think you should quit moping the morning away, get out of that bed and off the rude horse you seem intent to ride this morning.”
* * *
Lauren lowered the pillow. Grandpa wasn’t smiling.
Mitch turned and eyed him
funny. “Wow, Lauren. He’s looking kind of fierce. Like he could kick a tractor tire. You should probably obey.” Mitch delivered his much-needed tension-diffusing smile.
“I just don’t want her pouting her life away and wasting the gifts she has.” Grandpa scowled so much that Lauren laughed. She also knew he was right.
“Wow. Grumpy today. You tired?” Mitch asked Lauren after Lem retreated to the kitchen to begin the breakfast ritual.
She yawned. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Join the club. Someone ran over my chest with a tractor.”
What? She blinked. “Huh?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
“I’m worried about Mara.”
He looked slightly annoyed now. “I think she’ll recover.”
“I don’t mean that, necessarily. I mean socially and emotionally. The girl never has visitors. Her foster family all but abandoned her. I’d like to find a decent family member who’ll take an interest.”
“I’m pretty sure she has a grandmother who cares about her. Just no transportation. She calls more often than you realize.”
“You act like the grandma might be offended because I’m spending so much time with her granddaughter.”
“That would be an inaccurate assumption. While I do have strong concerns about you growing attached to Mara, I realize you’re just projecting your own anger into the situation.”
“What anger?” She sat at Lem’s table and pulled a bowl of potatoes in her lap, then started peeling.
“Because I’m closer to your grandfather than you’re comfortable with.”
She swung both feet over the chair and stood so fast, Mitch stiffened. She set down the potatoes and managed to resist the temptation to assault him with the peeler. Tension grew so thick in the room, not even a scalpel could slice through it.
“I’m irritated with the situation in general. Dealing with disappointment over how I envisioned this summer going, yet it’s not. Also, it rubs me the wrong way that you oppose my desire to reach out to the girl everyone else has written off.”
“I do have compassion for her, Lauren, but you seem to forget something. She made a choice. It took a life.”
