The Man She Knew

by Loree Lough

  “I’ll be fine going to Grams’s alone. You two need your rest, so I’ll drive myself. Think you’ll be back to talk to the doc, or wait until he’s released tomorrow?”

  “Listen to Little Miss Sure of Herself,” Eliot said to Joe.

  “We’ll call you,” Joe said.

  “Take it slow and easy,” Eliot said. “We don’t need two Turners in the hospital.”

  The siblings exchanged a three-way hug, and as the brothers headed for the elevators, Maleah stepped up to the nurses’ station to ask for a pillow and blankets. Back in her grandfather’s room, she adjusted the grayish-pink chair until it lay flat, then made it up like a bed.

  “I’ll bring your toothbrush,” she told Frank. “Anything else?”

  He rubbed his stubbled chin. “My razor. It’s charging on the bathroom vanity.”

  “And something for him to wear home,” Teresa said.

  Maleah turned out the lights and palmed her keys. “I won’t be long. You two try and get some sleep while I’m gone, okay?”

  On the way to the parking lot, she checked her phone again. She’d been right: Three calls from the same unknown number, and no messages. Coworkers never called after ten, and even in the thick of a fund-raising campaign, neither did volunteers.

  Tomorrow she’d dial the number.

  Right now, Maleah concentrated on the roads. Joe had been right. The streets between Howard County General and her grandparents’ house were slick. She took it slow and steady...exactly as Ian had taught her.

  He’d been soft-spoken and patient, even when she nudged trash cans and scraped fences, learning to parallel park. Astonishingly, after just two weeks, he announced, “You have insurance. You know the manual inside and out. And you can maneuver this old boat like a pro. Let’s go to the DMV and get your license.” The Turners hadn’t been pleased when they learned who her driving instructor had been. But after a year’s worth of flimsy excuses and broken promises, of course she’d taken Ian up on his offer to teach her.

  Maleah pulled into the elder Turners’ driveway and did her best to let go of the bittersweet memory. It took all of fifteen minutes to pack the items her grandparents might need, and twice that long to find the shovel and clear the front walk and drive. Worth every minute, she thought, returning the tool to the shed, because it almost got her mind off Ian.

  Back at the hospital, she found Frank and Teresa fast asleep. And no wonder. It was nearly 2:00 a.m., and the long harrowing day had taken its toll. Maleah quietly stored the small suitcase in the closet and tiptoed to the straight-backed chair to the right of Grampa’s bed. Boots propped on the radiator and using her coat as a blanket, she promptly dozed off.

  The squeak of crepe-soled shoes crossing the polished linoleum floor roused her. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” a nurse whispered. “I should take Mr. Turner’s vitals, but I hate to disturb him when he’s resting so comfortably.”

  Unless her watch had stopped, she’d only been asleep a few minutes.

  “I’ll just use the monitor’s readings and give him a few more hours.” The nurse scribbled numbers on a small tablet, and slid it back into her pocket. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” Maleah whispered back. “And thanks for letting him sleep.”

  The door hadn’t fully closed before Frank whispered, too. “Have you called him yet?”

  “Hasn’t been time.”

  “Make time. Life is unpredictable.”

  “I’ll call.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Good. I want you to be happy.”

  “I’ll be tickled pink if you go back to sleep.”

  Eyes closed, he said, “Love you, cupcake.”

  She finished their decades-old game with “Love you more.”

  His soft snores were proof that Frank hadn’t heard her. Life is unpredictable, he’d said, and Maleah understood, perfectly.

  Yes, she’d call Ian. The sooner the better. That way, if her grandfather raised the question again, yes would be an honest answer. It wasn’t likely she’d fall asleep again, which gave her plenty of time to practice her opening line...and a closer that guaranteed to get off the phone as fast as possible.

  Because all right, she’d admit it: She cared about him. A lot. And probably more than was good for either of them.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A FIRST-THING VISIT to the bistro, Ian decided, was probably better than dropping by during the dinner rush. He didn’t expect any of the staff to take shortcuts or get things done the easy way, But there’s a first time for everything.

  Dan had already been to the farmer’s market, and now stood at the stove, stirring the soup du jour.

  “Smells great,” Ian said.

  “Hey boss, you’re a sight for sore eyes!”

  “You just saw me on Tuesday.”

  “Yeah, but it can’t be repeated enough times—we can’t wait until your doctor gives you the green light.”

  “I’m okay to put in a couple of hours, starting today.”

  The chef looked dubious. “You sure?” He sprinkled chopped parsley on top of the soup.

  That wasn’t what he’d hoped to hear.

  “Where’s Lee?”

  “Sent him to The Restaurant Store for some paper cups and lids. Lot of diners have been ordering coffee to go at lunchtime.”

  “Great idea. Compostable?”

  “Of course.” Dan cranked the pepper grinder above the kettle. “No sense riling the tree huggers.”

  Ian picked up the Sur les Quais specials menu choices: Shrimp sautéed with sun-dried tomatoes, chicken breast tenderloin, or herbed smoked salmon, and the assorted dessert crepes the bistro was known for.

  “Perfection,” Ian said.

  “Easy when all I have to do is copy what you’ve already done.”

  His phone pinged with a text.

  “Love note? Bet you get a lot of those...”

  “Hardly. My doctor’s secretary, asking to reschedule tomorrow’s appointment.”

  “My mistake. I thought you and that little blonde were an item.” He smirked. “You two looked mighty cozy on the night of the gala.”

  He’d almost forgotten Dan and his fiancée had attended.

  “Maleah was in charge of the shindig. And she’s a, ah, a friend. I’ve known her for years.”

  For a lifetime.

  He should try to reach her again It wasn’t like her not to return calls. “How’s the mutt?”

  “Great. He took me hiking yesterday and wore me out.”

  “Leave it to Cash to make sure you meet your exercise quota. I sure wouldn’t want to explain to Mad Max the physical therapist that I’d skipped a day.”

  “Aw, Maxine isn’t so bad, once you get to know her. I’ll be back in a couple hours, after I take Cash for a walk.”

  “I won’t tell the rest of the crew.” Dan started chopping onions for the lunch dishes. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint them. You know, in case you change your mind.”

  Only one thing could stop him: Maleah. And since connecting with her was about as likely as another house falling on him, Ian could say with confidence, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  With Cash safe at the end of his leash, Ian headed out for another walk around the marina. The sky had turned steely gray, and he guessed the gusts had reached 20 mph or more. The weather report warned of an impending snowstorm that could produce several feet of the white stuff. But at least this time, road crews were prepared.

  “Looks like we’re in for it, buddy.”

  Cash didn’t react, save to slow his pace.

  Dog and master spent an hour in the cold wind before returning to the apartment. Ian filled Cash’s water bowl
and handed him a biscuit, then flopped into his recliner and turned on the TV.

  Just in time for the local news. The screen filled with a colorful map, and as Marty Bass explained what the lines and squiggles meant, Ian wished he’d thought to grab something to drink sitting; getting into and out of the chair posed a bigger challenge than walking. Now, with a mug of coffee and a bottle of water on the side table, he settled in, hopefully for the last time.

  His phone rang.

  Dan, probably wondering when he planned to go back to the bistro.

  “Sylvestry’s Bar and Grill,” he said, grinning.

  “Oh, you’re a riot. Hey. Turn on the news. We’re about to get bombarded with a full-fledged blizzard.”

  “Yeah, I’m watching now.”

  “I’m going to cancel tonight’s bachelor party. No sense having a bunch of drunk groomsmen driving home in that stuff.”

  “I’ll do it. Offer them something down the road that’ll salve their disappointment.” Dan provided the best man’s name and contact information.

  “No point in you coming down now. We’ll be lucky if a dozen people show up.”

  “People who live within walking distance.”

  “Skeleton crew, then?”

  “Anyone who doesn’t need to hit I-95 to get home.”

  When Ian disconnected, he scrolled through his contacts list. Should he give Maleah another try?

  “Why not?” he mumbled, hitting Call.

  But instead of her familiar, musical voice, an impersonal, methodical recording:

  “You’ve reached Maleah Turner. Leave your name and number and a brief message, and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. Thanks.”

  For a moment, he considered hanging up. But having used his own phone this time, Ian didn’t want to take the chance of riling her.

  “It’s me, Ian,” he said. “Tried calling you a couple times... I picked up my dad’s phone, so you probably didn’t recognize the number. I’ve got his settings figured out now, though,” he said, chuckling. He cleared his throat to add, “I’m mostly calling to say thanks for the gifts. You won’t be surprised to hear the chocolates are gone...”

  Now what? Say goodbye? Have a good day? See you soon?

  “Stay safe in all the snow that’s headed our way. Hope to hear from you soon.”

  He hit End.

  “Well,” he said, patting Cash’s head, “at least I tried to behave like a gentleman, right?”

  * * *

  “OH GREAT,” MALEAH SAID.

  “What’s wrong, cupcake?”

  “Nothing, really.” She glanced at the TV, where dire warnings of a blizzard scrolled across the bottom of the screen. “I forgot to pack my phone’s charger, and this thing is as dead as King Tut.”

  “See if mine fits,” her grandmother offered.

  It did not.

  “Here, try Grampa’s.”

  No luck there, either. And to complicate matters further, their phone batteries were dead, too.

  “I’m going to see if maybe there’s one in lost and found that I can borrow. Or ask a nurse. Surely someone on the staff has a similar model!”

  “Here’s a novel idea,” Frank said, pointing at the handset near the nurse Call button. “Use the hard-wired phone. I paid extra for the room because there’s a land line in it.”

  “If only I could. All my contact numbers are stored in my phone. And unless I can charge it...” Maleah shrugged helplessly.

  “What’s so important that it can’t wait a day or two?” Frank asked.

  She’d planned to call Ian, to find out how his therapy was going...

  “Nothing really. I suppose.”

  “See, that’s why I think it’s crazy to rely so heavily on electronic devices,” Frank said. “If you had one of those date books like I used in the old days, you’d have everything at your fingertips, and you could use this old-fashioned, normal piece of equipment.”

  He’d made a good point, and Maleah admitted it. “First chance I get, I’m going to the office supply store. I had one of those calendars, years ago. It took up a lot of space in my briefcase, but it sure would be worth it right about now.”

  “Relax,” her grandmother said. “How often does an opportunity present itself when you can just forget about all the demands of work?”

  “Not often.” But she wasn’t worried about bosses and coworkers. Ian must be thinking I’m a self-centered idiot, waiting so long to check on his progress...

  “Buzz the nurse, Teresa.”

  She leaped up. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Feeling woozy?”

  “I feel right as rain. But I want to get home before that storm hits.”

  Teresa followed his gaze to the TV. “I suppose it would be better to sit it out at home than here in the hospital. Let me check at the nurses’ station.”

  “I’ll do it,” Maleah offered. “Need to see about a phone charger, anyway.”

  She stood at the desk for less than five minutes. “Sorry,” the floor nurse said, dialing Dr. Peters’s number, “no chargers, but maybe we can get your grandfather out of here a little ahead of schedule.”

  Translation: If the storm caused accidents—and knowing Baltimore drivers as she did, it would—the hospital would need every available bed.

  “Dr. Peters is on her way up.”

  Maleah thanked her and returned to her grandfather’s room. Outside, fat flakes floated to the ground. So many that she could hardly see the buildings across the way. But she pretended not to notice. Pretended, too, that it didn’t concern her.

  “The doctor will be here soon. I’m sure once she reads your chart and gives you a once-over, you’ll be good to go.”

  “But...we got here in an ambulance,” Teresa said, gnawing on a knuckle.

  “I didn’t, and I’m happy to drive you home.” With any luck, she could get them settled, whip up a quick lunch, and get home before the snow started falling in earnest. Cozy as their house was, and much as she’d enjoy a few quiet hours in their company, curiosity about calls and messages got the better of her.

  Dr. Peters breezed into the room, white coat flapping behind her. “So you want to escape this place, do you?”

  “The sooner the better,” Frank said.

  “I’ll try not to take that personally.” She scrolled through his file’s notations on the in-room computer screen. A glance at the monitors told her his heart rate, blood pressure and pulse were fine, and tugging at his hospital gown, Dr. Peters peeled back the bandage that covered his incision. “A-plus,” she said, gently pressing it back into place.

  “So I can leave?”

  She draped the stethoscope around her neck. “Sure. Why not. But remember...no straining, and take it easy. That means no shoveling.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  Maleah recognized that tone. It meant that first chance he got, he’d insist he felt well enough to go outside and clear the driveway and walks. Not if I have anything to say about it.

  Dr. Peters smiled. “I’ll put in the discharge order right now. One of the nurses will come in for your signature in just a few minutes.”

  “But hospital time is like football time,” Teresa said, frowning. “We could still be here an hour from now.”

  The doctor typed something into his file. “I’ll put a big red rush on it. But if you haven’t signed those papers in a half an hour, you have my cell number.”

  “Thanks, doc,” Frank said. “Yer a peach.”

  Half an hour later, true to Peters’s word, Maleah was helping her grandparents into the car.

  “I can stop at a fast food drive-through on the way home,” she offered.

  “No thanks,” Teresa said. “There’s already two inches of snow on the ground. And w
e have plenty of food in the fridge.”

  Maleah breathed a sigh of relief and, as before, took her time getting to their house. “Would you look at that!” she said, pulling into the driveway. “I shoveled all this just last night.”

  “That’s Mother Nature for ya,” Frank said, unbuckling his seat belt. “Unsympathetic old shrew...”

  Once inside, Maleah insisted that they both relax in their matching recliners while she prepared lunch. Soft snores greeted her when she returned with a fully loaded tray of sandwiches, sliced apples, chips and ice water.

  They needed rest more than food right now, she decided, and retreated to the kitchen to cover the tray with plastic wrap.

  Everything outside the kitchen window was white. Tree limbs, shrubs, the walkways Frank had installed to make it easier for Teresa to tend her roses, even the big colorful urns that held her artful arrangements of annuals. Ordinarily, Maleah could see the neighbors’ houses from here...the pool where she and her brothers had splashed as kids, the tree house where kids held important meetings about homework and their least favorite teachers. Today, the only things visible were rough-hewn split-rail fences that separated one yard from another.

  If Maleah wanted to get home before the roads became completely impassable, she’d need to leave soon. Very soon.

  She peeked around the corner, saw her grandmother had picked up a magazine.

  “He can sleep later,” Teresa said. “Let’s have lunch.”

  Maleah set up the TV trays and brought the food back out. They wasted no time, diving in.

  “It’s a little chilly in here. I think you need a fire.”

  Maleah grabbed her coat and the straw broom that stood in the back hall for as long as she could remember. After opening a thick braided rug on the laundry room floor to absorb melting snow, she headed for the wood pile and carried two armloads inside. Balled-up newspapers, kindling and the smallest logs went into the belly of the stove before she struck a match.

  “Good job,” Teresa said.

  “Just like I taught her.” Frank gave the thumbs-up sign.

  “Now eat, before the bread gets all stale and crusty.”