by Heather Hunt
“Then it’s a beautiful mess.”
His voice reached her over the hum of the whirlpool jets. Grace turned to find him only inches away from her face. He was so close that she could see each and every little hair of the stubble on his face. Thank goodness he hadn’t shaved that morning, she thought as her eyes traced his features. Nervously, she began to nibble on her lower lip.
Jack pressed a finger on the impression made by her teeth.
“Hey, don’t do that.” He tipped her chin up. “They’re too kissable.”
“Jack, this is inappropriate,” Grace mumbled, but she didn’t attempt to turn her face away.
“What’s inappropriate about it?” he wanted to know.
“We’re at work,” she told him. “We have to set a good example.”
“Grace, every little biddy around here has been trying to throw the two of us together.” His laugh boomed across the room. “And I have to say that I, for one, like the idea.”
“So do I.” Flustered, she’d said the first thing on her mind. “I mean...”
“You mean?” he raised his black brows.
“It’s just that...”
“It’s just that I think the two of us need to do some serious talking, Gracie Woodhouse,” Jack informed her. And before she could disagree, he silenced her with a quick kiss to her lower lip.
For a moment, Grace was stunned. Before she could even consider the repercussions, she did the first thing that came to mind.
“And I think that you need to cool off,” she informed him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and before he could gauge her intentions, pushed him backwards into the churning waters of the huge whirlpool.
Jack surfaced with a look a deadly calm on his face and moved toward the side of the pool. Before she could move away, he grasped her ankle.
“There’s just one thing you forgot, Sugar,” he told her as he caressed the inside of her calf.
“This pool’s a hot one, and I, for one, have no intention of cooling off where you’re concerned.”
Grace stood still as a statue and felt the moisture bead on her forehead.
“Jack,” she protested. “My phone…”
“Yeah, that could be a problem, Princess.” He inched his fingers up her leg. Finally, after a gentle squeeze, he let her go. He reached down and pulled his own phone from its holster on his belt. “And since mine happens to have run into a glitch, maybe you can run it down to the mobile store and pick me up another one.” He tossed her the wet phone. “I hope they can retrieve my information. It’s how I run my business, after all.”
Jack’s voice was so silky smooth that Grace couldn’t tell if he was mad or not. His words did meet their mark, though, and her heart suddenly felt an immense burden of guilt at her foolish action. It was certainly a short-lived victory in light of the consequences.
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” she began. “I didn’t even think about your phone.”
“Don’t worry, Princess,” he finally grinned. “I’d wager that I’ll get the best end of the deal in the long run. After all, now you really owe me.”
With that, he leaned back into the warmth of the water and began floating on his back, a difficult task considering that his water-filled, steel-toed work boots were practically dragging the bottom of the pool.
“I suppose you’re right, Mr. Ellis.” She reached down to brush a few drops of water from her leg. “So what do you have planned for my punishment?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Now, Gracie,” he chided her. “You know I’m smarter than that. Why in the world would I want to fold when I’m holding a winning hand.” He ducked his head under the water then resurfaced and trudged through the water toward the steps at the opposite side of the pool.
Grace watched him in amazement as she stood in the heat of the room and tried to catch her breath. Jack Ellis had to be the most frustrating man on the planet! But what a man he was!
With a secret smile, Grace glanced around the room once again, her gaze eventually resting back on the man who, in only a few months, had lassoed her heart. She shook her head with a grin, then, a bit overheated herself, headed back to the clutter of her office for a drink of water. She needed cooling off in the worst way!
•∞•∞•
“Lady, there’s no way that I’m taking that pill!” Grace heard Jack’s grandfather’s voice as she passed his room that night while on her evening rounds.
The “Senior” Jackson Ellis had temporarily moved into the residence to recover from shoulder surgery and was still adjusting to the ins and outs of living somewhere other than his home on the river. In his boredom, he had turned into a practical jokester and was constantly terrorizing the staff with his antics. The apple certainly hadn’t fallen far from the tree!
She paused at the door then gave it a quick knock.
A moment later, Sophie Marsden, the new medication nurse, came to the door.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” she whispered. She was a tiny slip of a girl, just out of nursing school, and from her flustered appearance, Grace knew that Jackson had been bullying her. She looked near the point of tears.
“I’ve assured Mr. Ellis that this white pill is just the generic for the antibiotic he has been taking, but he insists that he will only take two pills. A green one and a blue one.”
In an attempt to assure resident safety, Grace had recently converted the patient records to an electronic charting and medication system. Although Grace was about as far from a nurse as one could get...and thankful for the fact...she was computer savvy and very familiar with the new system.
She looked at both of the pre-packaged medications and compared them to the information on Sophie’s hand-held computer. Upon reading the name of one of the drugs, she glanced at Sophie and began to giggle.
“Are you sure that this is the right medication?” Grace asked.
Sophie pulled out a small drug book from her pocket. “I double-checked the name just to make sure.” She turned to a page and handed Grace the pill that Jackson had refused to take.
“Not that one,” Grace laughed. “I mean the other one. He actually takes...”
“The blue one?” she asked. “It says so right here in his chart. That’s not the one he had a problem taking.”
“But why is he taking it?” The question slipped out before Grace could stop it.
Sally was business as usual with her answer, though. “Well, in some cases they use it for pulmonary hypertension, but in most cases...” She paused and looked over Grace’s shoulder into the room.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Grace cackled. “You don’t really think that Jackson Ellis...”
Sophie flushed and gave Grace a helpless look. “Well, there’s nothing about pulmonary hypertension on his history and physical.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“So you think─”
“─Well, why else would he be taking that pill?” The young nurse finally gave in to the humor of the situation and giggled along with Grace.
“But, his wife...” Grace hesitated and thought back to last night when she’d seen Mrs. Ellis leaving the center well after dark.
No way! She could hardly believe what was going on under the roof at Mansfield Park. Under her roof! She was shocked. For crying out loud! They were in their eighties! Not to mention that the center didn’t even have locks on the residents’ doors!
“They are married, Grace,” Sophie interrupted her thoughts.
“I suppose you’re right,” Grace shook her head.
“What do you want me to do?” the nurse asked.
“I’ll take care of it,” Grace told her.
Grace wasn’t about to let the elder Jackson Ellis boss her or staff around any more than she was going to let his grandson. She’d been bullied all her life, and she was beginning to like standing up for herself...and others. She took the medication from Sophie and headed into the room where Jackson was kicked back in his recliner watching a baseba
ll game. He looked up and smiled.
“Hello, Grace,” the man greeted her. “You’re looking lovely as always.”
“Hi, Mr. Ellis,” she smiled and walked over to where he was sitting.
Before she could utter another word, the man made a spectacle of sniffing the air.
“Girl, what in the world is that smell?” He sniffed the air again. “Did you tangle with a polecat?”
“A polecat?”
“A skunk!”
“Oh, you...” She forced herself to keep her cool. Those Ellis men were going to be her undoing! “Did Jack tell you to mention that?”
“What do you mean?” he pretended innocence as he adjusted his arm sling.
“You know very well what I mean,” she huffed.
“Grace, my dear, I’m just teasing you,” he chuckled as he let down the footrest and stood in greeting...a gentlemanly wolf in sheep’s clothing...just like his grandson. “Although, Jack did happen to tell me about your little adventure on the mountain. Just don’t let our mountain scare you away,” he smiled.
“Since being around here, Sir, I’ve learned not to scare too easily,” she returned his smile. As frustrating as those Ellis men could be, it was simply impossible not to love them to pieces!
“So what brings you by to see an old man like me? You should be chasing that grandson of mine. Of course, he’s already smitten, so I guess you don’t have to do much chasing.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Ellis,” Grace rolled her eyes. With her embarrassing task ahead of her, she couldn’t allow him to get the upper hand. A tiny bit of good-humored disrespect was just what the elderly prankster needed.
Deciding to cut to the chase, she leaned back against the built-in bar. “Sophie’s waiting outside. She tells me you have a problem with your medication?”
“Honey, you know as well as I do that nurses make mistakes. Helpless old fogies like me just need to know that what they’re being given is the right stuff.” He threw his hand up in the air. “Shoot fire, little lady, if I’d taken everything that someone wanted to give me over the years, I would have ended up half-comatose and drooling on my Bingo card.”
“You? Helpless?” Grace held out the pill. “Well, let me set your mind at ease, Mr. Ellis. I checked the drug book with Sophie, and the pharmacy simply replaced your green antibiotic tablet with a white generic one. It’s the same drug. Just a different color.”
“Well,” he huffed, “As long as it’s you telling me what’s what.” He held out his hand, and she placed the white pill on his palm. On a whim, Grace held back the blue one. She just couldn’t resist the temptation.
“I know that I can trust you. Your Granddaddy’s been my best friend for fifty years.” He sat back down in his recliner. “By the way, do you mind grabbing me a bottle of water from the fridge?” He pointed to the mini-refrigerator. Grace fetched a bottle of water, and he took a gulp to ease the huge pill down.
“Well,” Grace turned to leave, “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Uh, excuse me, Grace?” Jackson called as she was closing the door.
“Sir?” She peeked her head back into the room.
“By chance, did little Sophie leave another pill for me to take?”
“Another pill?” she feigned ignorance.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Maybe a blue one?”
“A blue one like this?”
He didn’t even have the grace to blush. Like grandfather, like grandson. Both of them were bold as brass.
“That’s the one I’m talking about. Excellent!” He reached for the packaged pill and tucked it into the pocket of his bathrobe. “I’ll have to save it for a special occasion.” He grinned and Grace had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.
“But what about your shoulder?” she finally blurted out. He was only two weeks into rehabilitation from a complete shoulder replacement.
“Honey, this pill has nothing to do with my shoulder.”
“But...”
“But?” he interrupted and raised his graying brow in an act so similar to one of Jack’s that Grace couldn’t help but smile.
“How about if I make sure that Jack puts a lock on your door?” Grace shook her head and let out a resigned breath.
“That would be appreciated, my dear.”
At this, Grace blushed like a middle-schooler and rushed out of the room. As she walked down the hall toward her office, she could hear his chuckles over the sounds of Braves’ baseball.
Chapter Seven
The Three “Sisters”
The woman was following her again. Grace could feel her presence just as surely as if she was standing behind her, breathing down her neck. Faking a stretch, she glanced around the room. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of a bright blue flash and a familiar reflection in the new mirror she had just installed in the foyer.
For a moment, Grace forgot that she was being stalked. After all, Grace had recognized the tiny woman in the mirror. Instead, she took a moment to look at the fruition of everyone’s labor. With the sun shining through the clean front windows, the room positively glowed.
It had taken a lot of work on everyone’s part, but they had transformed the foyer into a gem with rich oak hardwood flooring and a vibrant deep green paint. The wainscoting was bright white, and it was topped by an oak handrail that continued throughout the entire building. Jack had been planning on the generic metal handrails found in many other facilities, but Grace had insisted on the oak handrails. Seeing the result, she was glad that she had argued with Jack that something functional could also be beautiful.
As much as she adored the rest of the room, her favorite part of the renovation had to be the paintings. She had initially planned to use a series of oil reproductions from the Dutch masters; however, as she got to know many of the residents, she found that their interests were firmly rooted in their heritage...in the mountains where they had lived and raised their families.
As luck would have it, Grace had found the perfect images one afternoon in a gallery on Main Street. She hadn’t even realized that there were galleries north of Gainesville, and she’d been shocked by the raw talent of the artist. The artist was a local woman, Lily Bridgewater, and after seeing her work, Grace had contacted her and had commissioned a mural for the dining room. The woman would be starting the following week.
Grace smiled as she looked at the paintings. They had a way of transporting you outdoors, straight into grassy pastures dotted with forgotten daffodils. To the gurgling waters of the Ocoee River. To ramshackle farmhouses with sagging front porches.
One puffy violet hydrangea looked so life-like that Grace reached up her hand to make sure that it wasn’t real. She had barely grazed the painting when she felt the sting of a slap on the back of her hand. Horrified, she turned to find her nemesis standing at her side with a reproachful grin on her face.
“No touching, Precious.” The woman took her hand and rubbed her soft fingertips over Grace’s reddening knuckles. “Mama’s paints are still wet.”
Grace stared at Emma Matheson and wondered about the reasons behind her actions. In the past months, Grace had learned much about dementia...how men and women somehow regress to the point of infants, their minds, and eventually their bodies, playing havoc with their memories. The disease attacked them until they were left with barely nothing but a shell. For some reason, though, Grace’s action had sparked a memory for the older woman.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” Grace allowed Emma to hold her hand. “The paintings were just so pretty that I wanted to touch them.”
“It’s the light,” she explained. “You have to get it just right.”
“Were you a painter, Emma?”
“A little rose tea would work wonders for your complexion.” Emma ignored the question as if Grace had never even asked it.
“Pardon me?” Grace raised her hand to touch her face and wondered if she’d had a sudden attack of pre-pubescent acne. She hadn’t noticed any blemishes
when she’d applied her moisturizer earlier that morning, but that didn’t mean anything. No product was foolproof.
“Steamed vegetables go well with chicken,” Emma commented out of the blue. “And I simply adore strawberry pie.”
“Now that’s something we can agree on,” Grace laughed.
Emma rewarded her with one of her rare smiles. “Why don’t we have a look at this week’s menu?” Grace offered Emma her arm, and the older woman linked her hand through it.
“We need to check on Molly,” Emma said as they headed out of the foyer and into the large living room.
“Okay, we’ll check.”
Grace guided Emma toward the other side of the room.
Two of the male residents, the ones Grace called the “Polyester Patrol”, were sitting at a game table playing checkers, and Lola was banging out a jazzy ditty on the recently-tuned grand piano.
“Blow me a kiss for luck, now, my darlin’,” the older one, a man named Harry, called out.
Grace puckered up and made an exaggerated smack which earned her a chuckle from the man’s cohort in crime.
“That’s my girl,” Harry sighed as he held his hand over his chest. “Makes my heart fibrillate every time.”
“I think they make some medicine for conditions like that,” she told him with a saucy grin. “Do I need to call your doctor?”
“You’re the only medicine I need, Beautiful Grace,” he answered and executed a series of jumps across the red and black squares without barely breaking eye contact. “You see! Lady Luck has struck again! You don’t have a chance, Arthur. King me!”
