Lakeside Family

by Lisa Jordan

  Nick raised his eyebrows and shot her an “are you serious” look. “Louie the alien?”

  “Yep. He lives in the children’s ward and eats the green Jell-O that the kids don’t like.”

  “Have you met Louie?”

  She giggled. “No, silly. He comes out only at night when we’re sleeping. He leaves us green treats, too.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sherbet. Cupcakes with green frosting. Green apples. Green popcorn balls. Green grapes.” Hannah yawned, her eyelashes fluttering closed.

  “What’s the hardest part about being in the hospital?” He needed to shut up so she could sleep, but his curiosity demanded satisfaction.

  “Missing my family and my friends. Sometimes my friends can’t visit because of germs. But lately only Ashley has been coming to see me. I guess they think I’m a weirdo or something.” The light in her eyes faded. She picked at the seam of her blanket.

  Nick ran his thumb across her cheek. “You know, sweetheart, I think it’s more like they don’t know what to say or how to act.”

  “Yeah, but I’m still the same.” She struggled to sit up.

  “Your friends might not understand what’s happening to your body. You’re still the same person on the inside, but your outside is changing a little. That may scare them.”

  “See, I told you I was a freak.”

  Nick tapped the end of her nose. “And what did I say about calling yourself a freak?”

  “To stop it.” Her bottom lip plumped out.

  “I’m sure your friends miss hanging out with you, too. Maybe they have questions, but don’t want to upset you by asking them.”

  “How do you know?”

  He couldn’t tell her about Ross. Not yet. He needed more time to strengthen their relationship before he dropped the bomb about destroying his family.

  “I have…this friend who was in a bad car accident. He was a star basketball player with lots of friends. His brain was injured in that accident, and that changed the way he talked and acted. Many of his friends didn’t know what to say or how to act, so they just stopped visiting altogether. Now he has a new circle of friends who like him inside and out.”

  “I would be his friend.”

  “I know you would, sweetheart. So how about closing your eyes and getting some rest?”

  “Can we take a walk instead? Maybe go to the park?”

  “Grab your coat. Let’s see if your mom is ready for a break. Maybe she’ll walk with us.”

  Once they shrugged into their coats and Hannah adjusted her hat, they headed downstairs and stepped outside.

  Tiny green buds dotted the tree limbs. Patches of green appeared beneath melting snow. Puffs of their breath reminded them of the sun’s deception.

  “‘The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day,’” Nick said.

  “Did you just make that up?” Hannah hunched her shoulders against the chill.

  “Not unless my name is Robert Frost.”

  “Nice try with that one. Mom said you were the editor of the school paper when you were in high school. Do you still write?”

  Nick held the Cuppa Josie’s door open for her. “Academic papers. Nothing worth mentioning.”

  She paused in the doorway and looked up at him. “Mom said you used to write poetry.”

  “Your mom talks too much.”

  “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

  “So what will it take to buy your silence?”

  “Are you bribing me?”

  “Quite possibly.”

  “How about some hot chocolate?”

  “You drive a hard bargain.” He ushered her into the shop and out of the chilly air. The bells rattled against the glass as the door closed.

  A group of guys gathered near the register. One of them turned and a wide smile spread across his face. “Super Nick!”

  Nick’s blood ran cold. His gaze connected with Josie’s. The look of hurt that glimmered in her eyes told him his two worlds had just collided. And it would take some serious damage control to put the wreckage back together.

  Chapter Eleven

  Josie poured milk into the metal pitcher, filling it halfway, and tried not to slosh it over the side. With the way her hands shook, it was a feat for a task she could normally do in her sleep.

  Focus, girl. One step at a time.

  Purge the steam arm. Stretch the milk. Texturize it. Thinking through the steps drowned out the unspoken words clanging inside her head.

  Bubbles climbed the sides of the pitcher. The metal warmed in her hand. She turned off the knob and set the milk on the hot mat next to the machine. Grabbing a clean cloth, she wiped the steam arm.

  She added a squirt of dark chocolate, followed by a shot of vanilla syrup, into a stout café mug, stirred in the steamed milk and added a mound of her homemade whipped cream.

  The same question rolled around in her head for the four-hundredth time—why didn’t Nick tell her about Ross?

  Blinking away the pressure building behind her eyes, she grabbed a spoon and carried the hot chocolate to the corner table where Hannah sat chatting with her dad.

  Nick shifted to his feet when she approached. “Josie…”

  “Don’t.” She set the hot chocolate on the table, wiped her hand on her apron and kissed the top of Hannah’s head. “There you go, sweetie.”

  Hannah smiled up at her, blissfully unaware of the current of tension rippling between her parents. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Ignoring Nick’s pleading eyes, she returned to the counter to clean up her mess. Spying the empty milk jug, she carried it into the kitchen and tossed it into the sink to be rinsed before going into the recycling bin.

  Gripping the refrigerator handle, she pressed her forehead against the cool stainless-steel door. What was the big deal? So he didn’t tell her about what happened with Ross. Was it really any of her business? Still, her heart ached from his lack of trust in her.

  “Josie.”

  She pulled fresh milk from the fridge and turned to find Nick leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb, blocking her exit. Escaping through the back door and circling around the building to the front seemed a bit childish. But she pondered it. For a minute.

  “We need to talk.”

  “It will have to wait. I have work to do.” She attempted to brush past him, but he caught her arm.

  His eyes begged her to listen. “At least give me a minute to explain—”

  “Explain what, Nick?” Josie clutched the cold gallon to her chest, hoping it would soothe her throbbing heart. Her eyes burned. She wouldn’t fall apart in front of him. “That you don’t trust me enough to know about your brother?”

  His shoulders slumped. “Trust has nothing to do with it.”

  She wanted to believe him. With all her heart. But she couldn’t shake the fear that their relationship was more one-sided than she wanted to admit. “Could have fooled me.”

  He rubbed a thumb and forefinger over his eyelids. “It’s not you, Josie. It’s…complicated.”

  Josie rolled her eyes. “You don’t think I can handle complicated, Professor?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, feet shoulder width apart and a scowl etched his forehead. “Knock it off. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “No, I don’t, because you haven’t shared anything with me.” Maybe she had been imagining everything that had been happening between them—the near kiss, trips down memory lane, the looks that made her stomach flip over. He was here for Hannah. She was an idiot to think anything could happen between them again. Once he honored his promise to help Hannah, he’d be out of their lives and she’d be back to shouldering everything by herself.

  Nick rubbed a finger over his earlobe. “I said this has nothing to do with you. Come upstairs and give me a chance to explain.”

  *

  He dropped onto the hunter-green couch left behind by the previous renter and cradled his head in his hands
. What a mess. How was he going to put these pieces back together? An ache throbbed at the base of his skull. He rolled his neck to ease knots of tension.

  Spying a stray Go Fish card sticking out from under the couch, he picked it up and tossed it in the end table drawer with the rest.

  Josie took Hannah home to stay with Nonno, but promised to come back so they could talk. Hopefully by then he’d be able to string some words together so she could understand it had nothing to do with her.

  He stood and grabbed their empty glasses to carry them to the sink. He returned to the living room and folded Hannah’s blanket, placing it on her backpack by the door.

  He appreciated the apartment, but the empty walls and bare furnishings didn’t scream welcoming and cozy the way Josie’s did. Instead, it screamed temporary, good enough for now, limbo. Was that how Josie saw their relationship?

  A knock on the door echoed off the plain walls. About time.

  He stalked to the door, opened it then stood back so Josie could enter.

  She’d changed before coming back, replacing her brown work pants and blue shirt with jeans and a black turtleneck sweater that emphasized the milky whiteness of her skin. Her hair, free from her usual clip, curled down her back.

  “Come in.”

  Josie brushed past him. “This had better be good.”

  He crossed the door and swallowed a groan.

  She whirled around and faced him, eyes blazing. “I trusted you with the most precious person in my life, and you haven’t trusted me with anything.”

  She didn’t waste any time in nailing him to the wall.

  “It’s not that simple.” Nick walked across the room to the window, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck before turning to face her. “I can explain.”

  “What’s to explain? You don’t trust me.” She pulled her jacket tighter around herself.

  Nick held out his hands, palms up. “What did you expect me to do, Josie? Waltz into your living room that first night and say, ‘Oh, by the way, my brother has brain damage because of me.’ Yeah, I would have scored high on the confidence meter.”

  Josie planted a hand on her hip. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy. You’ve had plenty of chances since then.”

  “You’re the one with trust issues. You got bent out of shape when I helped you out. You’ve been holding me at arm’s length since you pulled my picture off the wall.”

  “You went behind my back, Nick. Those aren’t exactly trust builders. I couldn’t drop everything at work to get my tire fixed. But that wasn’t good enough. You had to ride in on your white steed and save the day.” She strode to the window and poked him in the chest.

  Nick grabbed her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “I didn’t want anything to happen to you, okay? I couldn’t lose you, too, Josie. And if I could fix it I would. I’m not going to apologize for helping you out.” He dropped his hands and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t want to fight about this.”

  She stepped back and dropped on the ugly armchair with the saggy cushion and reached for the frayed throw pillow, clutching it to her chest. “So if it’s not about trust, then why all the secrecy?”

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Nick exhaled. He moved away from the window and slumped on the couch. “Like I said downstairs—this has nothing to do with you. I wanted time to get to know Hannah without complicating the relationship by pulling my family into it. I was afraid once you learned the truth, you wouldn’t want me around anymore.”

  Josie shrugged out of her coat and laid it across the back of the chair. “Friends trust one another. You didn’t give me a chance to make a choice.”

  “I trust you, okay?”

  “Then tell me about Ross.”

  Nick rubbed his forehead, his stomach tightening with each second that passed. He blew out a breath. “Just so you know, what I tell you could change everything.”

  “What do you mean?” She frowned.

  “Like I said, you may not want me around Hannah anymore.” Unable to sit still, Nick jumped to his feet and paced.

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  Moving back to the window, he stared at the pavement below, clear and warmed by the late-afternoon sun. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering another pavement, the moon reflecting off the ice. “Eight years ago, I came home for Ross’s basketball championship game during his senior year in high school. Ten seconds left on the clock, and Ross scored a seemingly impossible shot, taking his team to victory.”

  “You must’ve been thrilled.”

  Nick opened his eyes and glanced at her over his shoulder. “Definitely. Ross bounced on adrenaline. He asked me to give him a lift to Maria’s Pizza—remember that place on the corner of Eighth and Grant?” Seeing Josie’s nod, he continued, “The team was going to hang out there to celebrate. I planned to drop off Ross, then Mom and I were heading back to her house.” His heartbeat stumbled. “It snowed during the game. If only I had paid more attention to the roads instead of going on with Ross about his winning shot.”

  Nick swallowed a lump in his throat and rubbed a hand under his nose. The street below blurred. He felt Josie move behind him before he saw her in his peripheral vision.

  She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

  His chest heaved. He pulled in a deep breath. No going back. She needed to know the truth. For Hannah’s sake.

  “I hit a patch of black ice before the stoplight, slid out of control and into the path of a half-ton pickup turning left.”

  “Oh, Nick.” Her voice broke.

  He didn’t want her pity. He didn’t deserve it.

  “Mom…Mom died instantly.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, clearing his vision. “Ross spent weeks in the ICU, then surgeries and therapies. If only I had seen the ice…” Tears burned his eyes. His jaw quivered.

  Josie pulled him toward her and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Nick. So so sorry. It was an accident. Not your fault.”

  “My mom, Josie. She’s dead because of me.” He crushed her to his chest, burying his face in her shoulder. His fingers twined in her hair. His chest quaked. Shadows from the past crashed through his head like bumper cars. His fists clenched as he remembered the feel of his beater sliding on the ice. His mother’s screaming and Ross’s shouts echoed in his ears. The whine of tires, the sickening crunch of metal on metal, the stench of gasoline, the sticky feel of Ross’s blood on his hands when he tried to find his brother’s pulse, the vacant look in his mother’s eyes.

  He blinked away the ghostly images. Nothing could dissolve the nauseating taste of regret that coated the back of his throat. He was the one driving. What he had done was unforgivable. And knowing the truth, there was no way Josie would trust him with Hannah. His dream of a family evaporated like the morning fog.

  Chapter Twelve

  Josie flipped her pillow and bunched it beneath her neck. A glance at the clock showed it to be 1:26 a.m.

  Every time she closed her eyes, Nick’s anguished face haunted her. They stood near that window in his apartment just twelve hours ago crying together. Of course, he was embarrassed by his breakdown, but she didn’t mind. She couldn’t imagine carrying around such a heavy burden. She spent another hour reassuring him the accident changed nothing between them as far as Hannah was concerned except her compassion for him had swelled.

  She had ranted about trust, making it all about her.

  Dear Lord, please guard and protect his heart. Allow him to feel Your comforting presence.

  With sleep being a stranger, maybe a cup of hot tea would help. Josie flung the blankets aside and moved out of bed, reaching for her bathrobe lying across the cedar chest at the end of her bed.

  “Mom!”

  Josie dropped the bathrobe and raced down the hall. She flipped on Hannah’s bedroom light. “Hannah? What’s wrong?”

  Half sitting and wide-eyed, Hannah’s hands twisted in the sheets, her breathing coming in ti
ght wheezes.

  Josie checked the white nightstand for Hannah’s medicine. “Where’s your inhaler?”

  Hannah shook her head.

  Josie opened the drawer and rummaged inside. Not finding it, she dropped to her hands and knees to check the floor and ran a hand across the carpet. The whistling sound in her daughter’s chest forced Josie to move faster. The inhaler lay under the bed.

  She stretched, but couldn’t quite reach it. She pressed her shoulder against Hannah’s bed frame and heaved with all of her might. The bed shifted about two inches, which was enough for Josie to reach the medicine. As she scooted out from under the bed and sat up, she rapped her head on the open drawer of Hannah’s nightstand. Pain exploded across her skull. She fought back tears and clamped down to prevent screaming out the words that blistered her tongue.

  She shook the inhaler and handed it to Hannah, who took two quick puffs.

  Josie held her breath and counted in her head. One, two, three, four, five. Time passed in slow motion.

  Within seconds, Hannah’s breathing regulated—each breath a relief and the beginning of fear. She hadn’t had an attack in a while. Would there be another tonight? Time was the enemy.

  “You okay, sweetie?”

  “My chest hurts. Can I have some water?”

  Still rubbing the sore spot on her head, Josie headed to the bathroom. Her hand shook as she filled a glass with water. What if she had been sleeping? Would she have heard Hannah cry out?

  She carried the water to Hannah, who drank it and handed her the empty glass. Josie set it on the nightstand and sat on the bed beside Hannah. She cradled Hannah against her chest, still not liking the sound of her breathing. “I need to call Dr. Kym and let her know about your attack.”

  Hannah tightened her grip on Josie. “No, don’t go. Stay with me.”

  Josie started to sit up and untangle herself. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Please, Mommy.” The plea in Hannah’s voice caused her to sag back against the pillows.

  Josie sighed. She rubbed a hand over Hannah’s head and kissed her forehead. “Okay, I’ll stay, but I’m calling her if you get worse.”