“She showed up at the Inn. She and my mom had words a few minutes ago so I followed her over here.” Lauren glanced around the empty waiting room. “Where is she?”
“I told her she needed to hang out until your grandmother was awake. Maybe she went down to the cafeteria?”
Lauren’s pulse kicked up a notch and she turned on her heel and started toward Granny’s room.
Shannon closed the chart and rounded the counter. “Wait. Where are you going?”
“Something tells me Aunt Jane isn’t just hanging out in the cafeteria. I bet she found a way into Granny’s room.” Lauren ignored the employees only sign posted on the double doors and pulled them open. Shannon grabbed the door before it could swing shut.
“That’s crazy. She can’t just waltz in there when I asked her to wait.”
Lauren glanced over her shoulder. “Like I’m doing now?”
Shannon scowled. “We need some kind of security around here. This is ridiculous.”
Lauren slowed as she approached Granny’s room. Muffled voices floated out the open door. Before Shannon could go in, Lauren grabbed her arm. “Stop. Listen.”
They stood in the hallway outside, pressed their backs against the wall and leaned toward the door.
“You remind me of someone. Are you new?” Granny asked.
Lauren glanced at Shannon. She stood with her head cocked to one side, brow furrowed.
“Do you remember my name?” Jane’s voice was even and cool.
“No, but give me a minute. Are we going to do some exercises today?”
“I suppose you could call it exercising.” Jane’s voice grew louder as she moved about the room. The girls shrank back against the wall. Lauren’s heart pounded in her ears. “I hope you’re nicer than the other girl that comes in here.”
“What do you mean?”
Granny cleared her throat. “It hurts. The exercises.”
“I’m not going to hurt you. I want to jog your memory, so to speak.”
Lauren sucked in a breath. What was Jane up to?
Shannon elbowed her in the ribs. “What is she talking about?” She whispered.
Lauren shrugged and pressed a finger to her lips.
Granny chortled. “Good luck. I’m not as sharp as I used to be.”
Lauren pressed her lips together to keep a laugh from escaping.
“I want to ask you a few questions, that’s all.”
“Well, we’ll see about that. I’m tired. Maybe we could do this another time.”
“I just got here. Let’s have a short little visit.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere. One more day won’t kill you. Goodbye now.”
“I can sit right here and wait until you wake up.”
Shannon stepped around Lauren and entered Granny’s room. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Lauren crept in behind her and hovered in the doorway.
Jane’s eyes flashed with anger. “Excuse me?”
Shannon positioned herself at Granny’s bedside, blocking Jane’s access. “I told you to wait until I gave you permission to come in here. I won’t have you aggravating my patients. Mrs. Watson has asked you to leave. Now go before I call security.”
Jane smirked. “Security? Really? That’s probably my brother-in-law, Mike. He doesn’t intimidate me one bit. Never has.” Her eyes flickered to Lauren.
Although a snide retort was on the tip of her tongue, Lauren restrained herself and forced a nonchalant expression.
“You may come back tomorrow during regular visiting hours.” Shannon pointed toward the door.
Jane huffed out a breath, gathered her purse and walked slowly toward the door. Lauren touched Jane’s arm as she passed. “What do you want from us, Jane?”
Jane gave Lauren’s hand a look of disdain and sniffed. “I want to make amends for my past. Is that so wrong?”
Jane brushed past her without another word. Goosebumps pebbled her flesh and she sank into a chair. Now that was just weird. She raised her eyes to meet Shannon’s. Shannon tipped her head toward Granny and smiled. Lauren glanced at Granny. Her head rested against the pillow, eyes already closed.
Lauren rubbed her fingers across her forehead. Was Granny that far gone that she didn’t recognize her own daughter? And why didn’t Jane reveal her identity? One thing’s for sure, after watching Mom and Jane tangle in the kitchen, it was clear this was going to get downright ugly.
Lauren tipped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Oh, Aunt Jane. What are you really here?
eighteen
Blake shut down the computer and taped the next day’s schedule to the counter where it wouldn’t be missed. Jeremy and Tisha came in the front door trading stories from their afternoon adventures.
“You should’ve seen the look on her face when I told her there weren’t any restrooms.” Jeremy laughed and shook his head in disbelief.
“And I had to listen to her complain all the way back to town.” Tisha punched him in the shoulder. “Thanks a lot.”
“Good trips today?” Blake slipped his arms into his fleece jacket, wincing as his shoulders protested.
“Minus this morning. What was up with that?” Tisha rolled her eyes.
Blake grimaced. “Yeah, that was kind of a mess. In the future, I think we need to be extra cautious with our younger customers. Hannah will be fine, thank God, but that was too close for comfort.”
“What about Lauren?” Jeremy flashed him a lopsided grin. “Is she alright?”
Blake’s chest tightened. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look of absolute panic on her face when she popped out from under her kayak. If anything had happened to her or one of their customers, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. “Matt picked her up. I haven’t heard from her.”
“Maybe you should go check on her.” Jeremy wiggled his eyebrows. “Make sure she’s warmed up.”
Blake’s face grew hot under Jeremy and Tisha’s curious stares. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that. Can you lock up?”
“Sure thing. Get some rest, bro. See you tomorrow.”
“Good night.” Blake barely glanced at them before dragging himself out the door to his truck. Every muscle in his upper body hurt. He might not be able to lift his arms tomorrow. That was way too much paddling. They needed to hire more help, instead of relying on random friends to fill in. There was no way they could sustain this pace for the rest of the summer. He opened the door of his truck and slid behind the wheel. He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. It felt so good just to sit still.
Katy Perry’s “Firework” started to play and he leaned forward and glanced around. His eyes landed on Lauren’s backpack lying on the passenger side floor mat. He smiled. Of course. The perfect excuse to drop by the Inn. He had to return her phone. Poor girl probably couldn’t live without it.
He turned the key in the ignition, shifted into reverse and eased the truck out of the parking space. There was Mr. Maxwell holding a car door open in front of the Italian restaurant across the street. Blake managed a smile through gritted teeth and waved. Mr. Maxwell waved back and took his wife’s hand, helping her from the car. Blake had heard more rumblings that Coach Hoffman had bought a condo at a retirement place in Arizona. He frowned. It would be nice if somebody would confirm that. Surely there would be a decision about the coaching position soon. He’d learned a lot teaching in Tyonek and–let’s be honest—the pay was fantastic. But he’d jumped at the chance to come back home. This is where he belonged. If he could take over the basketball program from his mentor, that would make all those lonely nights away from his friends and family worth it.
Traffic on Main Street crawled. He rolled his window down and propped his elbow on the edge as he waited for an indecisive tourist to either speed up or turn. The line at the new Thai place was out the door and wrapped around the building. His mouth watered and his stomach growled. He’d forgotten all about dinner. Maybe he would drop by his parents’ place and fora
ge in their cupboards.
He turned onto Hillside Drive. The evening sun sat on the edge of the mountains, ready to dip below the craggy peaks. The waters of the cove shimmered and the hillside was bathed in golden light. He turned up the hill toward the Inn. Mike’s patrol car was the only one parked out front. Maybe Lauren wasn’t even home. He had to at least knock on the door. He needed to know she was okay.
He fished her backpack off the floor, turned off the truck and shoved the door open. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. He knocked softly on the door, his pulse thrumming. The knob turned, the door swung open. Lauren stood on the other side. Her hair fell down her back in crazy curls that he just wanted to tunnel his fingers through one more time. The hem of her white t-shirt peeked out from under a dark blue sweatshirt and she had ditched Cavanaugh’s sweats for a pair of faded jeans. He swallowed hard. Dang it if she didn’t slay him.
Those luscious lips formed a half smile and her eyes met his. “Hey, this is a nice surprise.”
Warmth spread through his chest. “You left your backpack in my truck.”
“Oh, thanks.” She reached for it. He handed it over, careful not to let their fingers touch.
“Want to come in for a minute? I was just finishing dinner.”
He held up both hands. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not. I’m waiting for some guests to arrive.”
Blake hesitated.
“C’mon. You look exhausted and I bet you haven’t eaten yet.” She stepped aside and pulled the door open wider.
He couldn’t resist. A fire crackled in the fireplace and those leather couches looked very comfortable. She picked up the TV remote and muted the Mariners game. A Styrofoam container sat on the coffee table next to a plate of Thai food.
His eyes widened. “Is that pad Thai?”
She smiled. “Would you like some?”
“I don’t want to take your food.”
“Yes you do. It’s written all over your face. Lucky for you, there’s extra.” She pointed to the couch. “Sit. I’ll fix you a plate.”
He unzipped his jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch. Then he sank into the corner closest to the fire. She wouldn’t get any argument from him. Some rookie he didn’t recognize was batting in Ichiro’s spot. Bases loaded in the bottom of the sixth inning. Man, the Mariners just weren’t the same without Ichiro.
Lauren returned with a steaming plate and a tall glass of iced tea. She set them both down on the coffee table and passed him silverware wrapped in a napkin. He grimaced and pushed himself up to an upright position.
She froze. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Hard day. My back and my shoulders are sore.”
“Want something for the pain?”
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I don’t like to take anything.” He bowed his head and blessed the food. When he opened his eyes, she was still staring.
“I would be glad to take a look at your shoulder when you’re finished eating.”
He paused, a loaded fork halfway to his mouth. “So sports medicine’s your thing?”
She reached for her plate and settled back on the couch. “The doctor I worked for, Dr. Putnam, he tried to teach me as much as he could. He made sure I shadowed a lot of other physicians, too. I’ve spent a lot of time with an orthopedic surgeon.”
Blake savored the first bite of the noodles and spicy chicken. “Mmm, this is incredible. Thanks for sharing your dinner.”
“You’re welcome. I might be able to find some dessert if my nephew didn’t eat it all.”
Blake tipped his head toward the television. “How’s the game?”
“Not that great. Mariners pretty much stink this season.”
Blake laughed. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“It’s true. Look. When you knocked on the door the bases were loaded. Now the inning is over and they’re still scoreless heading into the seventh. Ridiculous.”
He smiled. He forgot how much she loved baseball. Her cheeks held the slightest tinge of pink and her eyes were bright with enthusiasm. There was one stubborn ringlet that bounced against her temple as she talked. It was all he could do to keep from reaching over and tucking it behind her ear.
She caught him watching her. “What?”
Busted. His neck grew warm. He tried to play it off. “Nothing. I think it’s great you like baseball, that’s all.”
“I’ve missed watching the games with my Dad since I left.”
Blake looked around. “Where are your parents, by the way?”
“They went over to the hospital to check on my grandmother.”
“How’s she doing?”
Lauren sighed and her shoulders sagged. “She’s about the same. We are trying to figure out where to move her. She can’t stay at the hospital indefinitely. My Aunt Jane turned up today and now everybody’s super stressed.”
Blake glanced at her. “I’d forgotten all about your Aunt Jane. What’s she doing here?”
Lauren chewed on her lower lip, brow furrowed. “She mentioned something about making the past right. I don’t know.”
“Where’s she been?”
Lauren shrugged and reached for his empty plate. “San Diego, I think. Would you like something else? I was kidding about my nephew eating all the dessert. There’s chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen counter.”
“Your mom’s chocolate chip cookies?”
“Those are the ones.”
Blake moaned and fell back against the cushions. Debbie Carter’s chocolate chip cookies were legendary. She used to send dozens on basketball road trips. There was never even a crumb left by the time they got back home.
Lauren disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a platter of cookies. She took one and passed the rest to him. “How long has your shoulder bothered you?”
The cookies tasted better than he imagined. He rotated his shoulder forward and backward. After a day like today it was hard to remember a time when it didn’t hurt. “I think it’s all the overhead movement I’ve been doing. Moving kayaks and rafts, combined with a lot of paddling. It’s killing me tonight.”
Lauren nodded and moved around the coffee table toward him. His pulse ratcheted up a notch with every step she took. “Mind if I take a look?”
He shook his head, thankful his mouth was packed full of cookie. His voice couldn’t be trusted at this point. She slipped her fingers under the sleeve of his t-shirt. A stirring awakened in his belly and warmth flooded his chest. He tried to focus on the game. She gently prodded the muscles on his upper arm.
“Here?” she asked, her fingers sliding up over the top of his shoulder.
He cleared his throat. “Um, no, mostly the front.”
She pressed harder on the front of his shoulder and he sucked in a breath. “Ow.”
“Sorry. I’m almost finished.” She stepped in front of him and moved his iced tea. Then she shoved the coffee table out of the way. “Stand up. I want to see something.”
He complied. She circled his wrist with her slender fingers and he prayed she couldn’t feel his pulse pounding. Her other hand grasped his elbow. “Now I want you to hold your elbow against your side and try to push your arm out, like you’re opening a sliding glass door. Except I’m going to resist you.”
He stared down at her. Determined green eyes stared right back. He imagined her flying across the living room. Probably ought to take it easy.
He made a fist and pushed against her hand. She gritted her teeth and pushed back. “Harder.”
He pushed again and a sharp pain shot up his bicep. “Ah, hey, I think that might be it.” He clutched his shoulder with his other hand and sank back down on the couch.
“I knew it.” She sat down next to him and tucked her knees under her chin. “You have biceps tendonitis.”
He rubbed his shoulder and studied her. “What?”
“I think the tendon that connects your biceps muscle to yo
ur shoulder is irritated.”
“Wonderful. What’s your recommendation, doc?”
“Ibuprofen and an ice massage.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Massage, huh? I like the sound of that.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You missed the operative word: ice. Freeze water in a paper cup, then peel back the paper and rub the ice on the front of your shoulder. It’s more effective than an ice bag. You might consider giving your shoulders some rest.”
He puffed his cheeks and blew out a long breath. Rest. Like that was going to happen. “Any other suggestions?”
She frowned. “You aren’t going to listen to me, are you?”
He hesitated. “I don’t think rest is an option right now. We have more clients than we can handle, which is a blessing. I can’t leave Jeremy hanging. I’ll rest in September.”
“I see.” She stood and tugged the coffee table back where it belonged and began clearing the remnants of dinner. “Want some ice while you watch the rest of the game?”
He glanced at the television. What could it hurt to ice his shoulder and watch the last couple of innings? “Sure. Thanks.”
Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. “I’ll be right back.”
He grabbed the remote, propped his feet up on the coffee table and turned up the volume so he could hear the commentary. Lauren moved about in the kitchen, scraping plates and loading the dishwasher. A pang of guilt struck him. He should get up and help her. But he couldn’t muster the energy.
She returned with a bag of frozen peas and a blanket. “This will do for now.”
“Vegetables cure tendonitis? Who knew?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s just easier to keep in place than a bag full of ice. I’m going to shove this under your shirt so it stays. Is that okay?”
“I guess.” He flinched as the cold bag touched his skin.
She leaned in to re-adjust the bag of peas and her hair tumbled forward, brushing his cheek.
He sat perfectly still, soaking in the scent of her. She smelled like vanilla, with a hint of coconut. Feelings long dormant began to stir. She’s right there. He reached up, eyes riveted on hers. She met his gaze, one eyebrow arched as she tilted her head. Go for it. He brushed her hair back with his hand, cupped his fingers around the nape of her neck, and pulled her in. Gently at first, his lips brushed against hers. Then he deepened the kiss, showing her how much he’d missed her. How much he needed her. She responded to his touch with a soft moan and pressed her fingers to his cheek.
Unraveled Page 14
