by Laura Abbot
Cajoling Geneva to eat the tiny portion of chicken salad she’d prepared for lunch, Annie heard a loud thump outside. She went out on the porch. There stood Kyle, fastening a tool belt around his waist. A tall ladder was propped against the side of the house. Annie momentarily closed her eyes against the relief she felt. Even if he hated her, his presence was oddly comforting. Familiar.
He lifted the Mariners ball cap and scratched his head. “Something I can do for you?”
“I, uh, I didn’t know you were here, and when we heard the noise—”
“Oh. The ladder. Sorry about the racket. I should’ve knocked. There will be more commotion, I’m afraid. I’m fixing your roof today.”
It was then she noticed the pile of shingles beneath her bedroom window.
Kyle’s gray eyes bored into her. “Will that be a problem? I need to complete the work on the roof before I start tearing out the Sheetrock in your bedroom.”
Was it just her or were they being overly polite with each other?
“My great-aunt sleeps quite a bit, but I suppose the repairs have to be made.”
“I hope to get the roof under control today.” He put one foot on the first rung of the ladder, drawing his jeans tight across his butt.
Annie tried not to notice, just as she tried to ignore the breadth of his shoulders, the muscular, tanned arm grasping the fourth rung. Unaccustomed heat caused her to blush. His sheer masculinity unleashed long-stifled desire, the suddenness of it taking her aback. Embarrassed, she turned on her heels. “Do what you need to do,” she said more curtly than she’d intended.
Once safely inside the house, she leaned over, hands on her knees, and took several deep breaths. What was she thinking? Her involuntary reaction to Kyle scared her. He was Pete’s best friend. She couldn’t allow herself—wouldn’t allow herself to think of him that way. Even if Kyle were similarly attracted, which was highly unlikely, any attachment was unthinkable. Just as it had been on that strange May night at the end of their senior year.
It had been the week before graduation. Even though it was a cool night, a group of seniors had gone to the beach. Gathered around a roaring bonfire, they’d laughed and sung, until Kyle remarked that this might be one of the last times they’d all be together before they moved on to work and college. The mood turned somber and reflective. A few of the girls got teary, and Annie could remember wanting to hold on to the moment and never let it go.
Instead of scattering to their usual make-out places, the couples all remained by the fire, reminiscing. Pete had snuggled her close, reassuring her. “The best is yet to come,” he whispered. “We’ll have the rest of our lives together.” She remembered feeling contentment and a sense of being luckier than most of her classmates.
After midnight when the last sparks of the fire died against the night sky, they’d slowly folded their blankets and ambled toward their cars. Pete was carrying a cooler, and Annie had started to follow him when she noticed Kyle standing apart near the breaking waves. Something about the way he stood there—so separate—broke her heart. Instead of following Pete and the others, she went over to Kyle and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
When he shrugged, she turned him toward her, astonished to see tears welling in his eyes. In the distance she heard the shouts of her friends, engines revving. But the beach felt deserted, except for the rhythm of the sea and the boy’s naked, anguished expression. “Kyle?”
“Don’t, Annie, just don’t,” he said gruffly.
“Please, what’s wrong?”
Before she knew what was happening, he’d pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he’d never let her go.
Abruptly he’d flung her away. “That’s what’s wrong, damn it. You, Annie. You.”
Then he’d walked off, leaving her standing there with a pounding heart and the slowly dawning realization of what had happened. There had been no mistaking the need in his eyes.
Kyle. Pete. They were best friends. And Kyle was her friend, too, but something had changed that night.
Other than at the graduation ceremony, she hadn’t seen Kyle again until the day he’d knocked on Auntie G.’s door.
Dismissing the memory and its emotional impact, she pulled herself together and returned to the living room and saw that, once again, Auntie G. had rearranged the food on her plate to make it look as if she had eaten something.
“You’re not fooling me, you know.”
Geneva shrugged. “I know you’re trying. And the salad looks lovely, but I’m not hungry.” She set her plate on the end table beside her chair.
Swallowing back the grief tearing at her throat, Annie said, “Please, Auntie G. Don’t do this.”
Geneva reached out a gnarled hand and drew Annie onto the floor beside her chair. “It’s my time, dear. I’m doing what I can for your sake. But the day is coming when I will no longer be able to fight.”
“I can’t bear to lose you.” Annie laid her head in Geneva’s lap to conceal her tears.
“I know.” Auntie G.’s gentle hand caressed Annie’s head. “But dying is part of life. We’re none of us given any promises, and I’ve lasted longer than most.”
They sat like that for several minutes, suspended in a silence broken only by the wheeze of Geneva’s oxygen tank and the intermittent sound of hammer blows on the roof.
IT TOOK over an hour to get Auntie G. dressed and ready to leave for the doctor’s appointment. Twice she had changed her mind about what she wanted to wear, opting finally for a colorful yellow Mexican dress, which only served to emphasize her pale complexion. She spent considerable time at her dressing table and, with a trembling hand, applied mascara, rouge and lipstick. She completed her outfit with a turquoise and silver necklace. When she sat back to appraise the result in the mirror, she blew out a disgusted breath. “I look like hell.”
As if to underline the comment, a loud blow sounded from the roof. In her imagination, Annie raised a fist and shook it at Kyle Becker. She had been fighting a headache all afternoon and didn’t need any further aggravation.
Before they could leave, Geneva insisted on dumping the contents of her purse on the bed and selecting a different handbag. Rifling through her billfold, she located her insurance cards. Only then did she fill the new bag and pronounce herself ready. Glancing surreptitiously at her watch, Annie saw they would be cutting it close to make it on time.
“Wait here while I pull the car up to the door.” Annie collapsed the wheelchair and stowed it in the trunk, then returned to help Geneva down the steps. Balancing herself with the walker and supported by Annie, who tucked an arm around her waist, Geneva started across the porch. Just then Kyle rounded the corner of the house carrying another load of shingles from his pickup. Dropping the shingles, he bounded toward them. “Here, let me help.”
He handed Annie the walker before swooping Geneva up and heading for the car. Annie managed a smile when she heard her great-aunt say, “I always did fancy a strong man.”
By the time she’d folded up the walker and stowed it and arranged the portable oxygen tank in the front seat, Annie was even more concerned about the time, knowing that she would face the cumbersome unloading process on the other end.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she brushed past Kyle, his warm, metallic scent turning her knees to rubber.
He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Where are you going? Do you need me to follow you?”
She could hardly trust herself to look up, because she knew his eyes would be full of sympathy. And they were. “That’s not necessary, but I appreciate the thought. Geneva has a doctor’s appointment.”
Before releasing her, he ran his hand down her arm, setting up goose bumps. “This can’t be easy for you, Annie. You can ask for help, you know.”
Ducking her head, Annie slithered behind the wheel. His thoughtfulness had unnerved her. Before closing the car door, she nodded. “I will if I need to,” she said, praying she would never have to ask.
> Kyle stood in the driveway watching Annie’s vintage Honda lurch over the rutted road to the highway. Geneva Greer was light as a feather. In the short time he’d been working on the house, she had faded like a late-autumn bloom. Annie’s devotion to her great-aunt was evident, but he could tell it was sapping her energy. In her oversize shirts and sweaters, she looked like a wraith trying to escape notice. This picture was at complete odds with the animated, sparkly eyed teen she’d been. Kyle wondered what it would take to restore the person he’d once known.
Why did he care? Shaking his head in bewilderment, he picked up the stack of shingles and moved them to the base of the ladder. A breeze gusted and the sharp tang of salt filled the air. Scanning the horizon, he saw a bank of dark clouds massing over the water.
Later, he didn’t know whether he’d used the weather as his excuse or whether he’d been motivated by a different reason—one he didn’t want to think about—but at the time, it had seemed as if there was only one decision to be made.
Kyle abandoned the roofing project, ran to his truck and followed the little Honda to the physicians’ offices near the hospital.
ANNIE SIGHED gratefully when she pulled into the circular driveway and parked by the handicap access ramp. Already they were five minutes late for the appointment. She heaved the wheelchair from the trunk, unfolded it and positioned it by the passenger door, making sure to lock the wheels.
“Before, I could always walk in,” Geneva said with a hitch in her voice, as she lowered herself into the waiting seat.
“Would you like me to bring your walker?”
“Please.”
“Here it is.” Startled by the deep, familiar voice, Annie wheeled around. Kyle waited at the rear of the trunk with the walker in his hand. “Got everything?”
Annie nodded mutely, and Kyle closed the trunk lid. Then he said, “Give me your keys. I’ll park your car and bring the walker in. Just tell me which doctor.”
Completely flustered by the fact Kyle had followed them, Annie mumbled, “Dr. Bari Woodruff,” and handed him her keys.
Hooking the oxygen tank over the back of the wheelchair, Annie pushed Geneva toward the door. Even in her weakened condition, though, Auntie G. mustered the strength to say in a loud voice, “I think Mr. Becker is sweet on you, missy.”
“You have an overly active imagination.”
“I know what these old eyes tell me.” Geneva raised her arm in a forward-march signal. “Now, for heaven’s sake, let’s get this over with.”
Thankful for the reprieve from a conversation she didn’t want to pursue, Annie pushed as fast as she safely could. Several people occupied chairs in the doctor’s waiting room and the receptionist told them they would have to wait a few minutes. After a nurse came to take Geneva for some lab work, Annie collapsed onto a vinyl-covered sofa.
When the door opened and Kyle looked around the room, Annie waved. Spotting her, he set the walker against a wall and sat down beside her. Annie was both irritated and appreciative. It was getting more difficult to maneuver Geneva from place to place, but she didn’t want anything from this man, especially not kindness.
“What exactly are you doing here?” she asked to break the awkward silence.
He put his arm on the back of the sofa and turned sideways to look at her. “The truth? Damned if I know. You just looked like you needed someone to lean on and I was there.”
“I could’ve managed.”
“I’m sure you could have. You enjoy your independence, don’t you?”
There was an edge to his voice that made his meaning clear: you liked it so much you walked away from Pete without a backward glance.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Look, Annie, I didn’t come here to get into a verbal sparring match with you.”
“Then back to my original question. What are you doing here?”
Before he could answer, a nurse called Annie’s name. He gestured toward the wall. “Do you want the walker?”
Annie gathered it up. “Thank you. You don’t need to wait.” Eyes fixed on the nurse, whom she followed down the hall, she didn’t look back.
If she had, she would have seen Kyle shrug, then pick up a dog-eared magazine and sit back down on the sofa.
The headlines swam: Middle East Violence Escalates, Six Panoramic Highway Drives, Male Menopause: Fact of Fiction?
Disgusted, Kyle threw down the magazine and leaned his head back. Annie had cut right to the quick. What was he doing here? He didn’t normally think of himself as impulsive, but this was edge-of-the-cliff stuff. The woman haunted him—in his thoughts, in his dreams and, most especially, in the flesh. He could no more have stayed away when he’d seen her struggling with Geneva and all her paraphernalia than fly. And even as his gut clenched, he admitted to himself that it wasn’t gallantry that had brought him here. No, something stronger and scarier. He wanted to protect Annie from the pain he knew was coming. Geneva Greer had returned to Eden Bay to die, and that would be a crushing blow for her great-niece.
He closed his eyes, oblivious to the conversations around him and to the comings and goings in the reception room. He could rationalize that he was doing this for Pete, knowing that his friend would have done anything to make life easier for Annie. In fact, thinking of Pete should help him get a grip on his inappropriate attraction to Annie.
But this wasn’t about Pete. And it wasn’t about the past. This was about Annie and him and now. Damned, though, if he knew what to do about any of it.
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes. “Kyle?” Annie stood in front of him, her lip trembling, her voice ragged.
He rose to his feet. She stood mere inches from him. “It’s Auntie G.” She paused, unable to go on. “They’re…they’re hospitalizing her. Dehydration, the doctor said. And other complications. Fluid buildup and…” She was unable to finish.
He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and cradled her ravaged face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
A sob choked her and she flung herself into his arms, dampening his shirt with her tears. “Oh, Kyle, what am I going to do?”
“Shh,” he crooned. “Just let it go, Annie. Let it go.”
As he stood there holding her in his embrace, breathing in her floral scent, feeling her chest heaving in the effort to take in air, he knew the answer to her question.
What was he doing here?
He held her even more closely. This. Simply and inevitably this.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT FEW HOURS PASSED in a daze of bureaucratic and clinical red tape. After waiting while Dr. Woodruff made arrangements for a bed at the small Eden Bay Hospital next door, Kyle helped Annie move Geneva to the medical facility before heading out. The forty-minute admission process grated on Annie’s nerves and tired her great-aunt. When a room was finally available, Annie and a nurse undressed Geneva and helped her into bed. “I don’t like this!” she complained. Further objections were cut off by a fit of coughing, administration of oxygen, insertion of IVs and attachment of monitors.
At a loss, Annie stood by as the nurses fussed over her aunt. Once they had her settled, one of them asked if Geneva had eaten dinner. Although the frail woman waved her hand dismissively, a tray arrived with a turkey sandwich, applesauce, butterscotch pudding, cranberry juice and a roll. “Hospital food. Bah.”
Annie struggled to control her emotions. “You’d prefer to be fed intravenously?”
Auntie G. had the grace to appear contrite. “No, but—”
“No buts. You’ll be hooked up to tubes if you don’t do what you’re told.”
A wan smile crossed Geneva’s lips. “Obedience. Not my strong suit.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Geneva managed the applesauce, half her pudding and one small bite of the roll. “I’m done.”
“Try the juice.”
Shooting Annie a disgusted look, she set about sipping from the cardboard container. “Whe
re’s that young man?”
“Kyle? He went home.”
“It was nice of him to help us.”
Annie tried not to think about just how nice he’d been, holding her protectively as her world fell apart. “Yes, it was.”
“He likes you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’ve been around the block a few times, remember? I know what I know.”
Annie removed the meal tray and smoothed the sheets around Geneva, trying not to think about what her great-aunt had said. “Here’s what I know. You need to rest. Let me lower the bed a bit.”
“All right. Maybe I could sleep awhile.” She closed her eyes for a minute or two, then opened them. “Go home. There’s nothing you can do here.”
Momentary panic cut off Annie’s breath. “I want to be with you.”
“Go home. Get some dinner. You could stand some rest yourself.”
No matter how drained she was, Annie had every intention of spending the night at the hospital. “All right. I’ll grab a bite and change clothes, but I’ll be back.”
Geneva put up no argument—she was fast asleep. Annie watched her for several moments, thinking how frail she looked. Then, picking up her purse, she stole quietly from the room. When she passed the waiting room on the way to the elevator, she was stunned to see Kyle sprawled in a chair, a Sports Illustrated open in his lap. She paused in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”
He set the magazine aside and rose to his feet. “Isn’t that question getting a bit repetitious?” He moved across the room and put an arm around her shoulders and walked her to the elevator. “I figured you hadn’t eaten. Ms. Greer isn’t the only one who needs to keep her strength up. I’m treating you to the best dinner the hospital cafeteria has to offer.”
“I thought you went home.”
“I did. Had to feed that dog of mine. But now I’m back.”
The elevator pinged and she turned to face him. “Why?”
Standing with his back against the open elevator door, he let her enter first. He hesitated, his eyes fixed on hers. “You need me,” he finally said. “Besides, against all the odds, I like you.”
