Something to Prove

by Kimberly Lang

  “You could just take me home now, you know.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward as far as her still-healing rib fractures allowed. “Grab my things, and we’ll make a run for it.”

  “Grannie . . .” She shook her head. “I’m not busting you out of here against all medical advice and taking you on the lam.”

  An eyebrow arched up. “Well, that’s a new song you’re singing.”

  It was Helena’s turn for some pearl clutching. “That’s unfair. I’m a responsible adult these days, remember?” Shooting a pointed glance at Grannie’s ankle cast and walker, she added, “Like you could make a run for it anyway.”

  “I’d like to give it a try,” Grannie retorted with a wink, then moved on to other topics, adding more items to Helena’s to-do list and asking careful questions about the reception Helena was receiving back in Magnolia Beach.

  Helena, equally as careful, gave vague answers and steered the conversation in other directions. Grannie did not need to be worrying about her right now.

  After a few minutes, though, Helena couldn’t help but notice Grannie becoming increasingly distracted and glancing at the clock. Then she produced a compact from the pocket of her caftan, checked her hair, and powdered her nose.

  Helena didn’t have time to comment on that, because seconds after Grannie put the compact away, there were three sharp knocks on her door, followed almost immediately by a silver-haired gentleman—well-tanned, good-looking, nicely dressed, with a wide, white smile—walking right in with a booming “Hello, gorgeous!”

  Grannie just beamed and waved him in, lifting her cheek for his kiss. “Hello there, handsome.” Helena felt her eyebrows hit her hairline. Grannie’s voice had dropped an octave into what could only be described as a purr. As Grannie’s eyes locked with his for a long moment, Helena shifted awkwardly, feeling like she was witnessing something she shouldn’t. After what felt like an eternity, Grannie finally seemed to remember she was there. “I want you to meet my granddaughter, Helena.”

  Still in a mild state of shock, Helena stood. The man tucked a cribbage board under his arm and took her hand in both of his. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Helena. Louise has told me so much about you.”

  Funny, I haven’t heard a single thing about you. She shot a look at Grannie, who frowned her into remembering her manners. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. . . . ?”

  “Calvin Parker. But please, call me Cal.”

  “Cal’s been fabulous company for me the last few weeks. I’d have gone simply stir-crazy without him.”

  “You . . . um . . .” She wasn’t sure how to word it. “You are . . . on the staff here?” Damn, that sounded a little too hopeful.

  “Oh, no, no, no. Knee replacement,” he said, tapping his left one. “But soon I’ll be ready to take Louise dancing.”

  Oh my God. Did Grannie just bat her eyelashes at him? “Well, uh . . .” She had to stop to clear her throat. “Thank you for keeping Grannie company. It relieves my mind to know she’s made friends here.”

  “Oh, it’s been my pleasure,” Cal said, giving Grannie another long look. “But they’re kicking me out of here in a day or so. I’m going to miss her terribly.”

  “Not for long,” Grannie assured him. “Helena’s going to bust me out of here.”

  Now Cal was frowning at her. “Don’t encourage her, Helena. Louise needs to focus on getting better.”

  She felt unjustly vilified. “I happen to agree. The doctor says it should be another couple of weeks before she’s ready to go.”

  “See, sweetheart, it’s not that long. And I’ll come see you as often as I can.” Cal turned to Helena. “I live over in Bayou La Batre, so it’s a bit of drive.”

  Since Bayou La Batre was only about fifteen minutes from Magnolia Beach, and she’d just made the drive . . . “Yes, I know.”

  Well, this explained Grannie’s sudden desire to leave this place. She cut her eyes in Grannie’s direction, but Grannie was too busy making cow eyes at Cal to notice.

  “Louise and I usually play cribbage in the afternoons. Would you like to join us?”

  Although Grannie was smiling, Helena could see the No, you don’t in her eyes. She was almost ornery enough to say yes, but she’d never hear the end of it if she did.

  “I’d love to,” she started, just to watch Grannie’s eyes narrow, “but I’ve got a lot to do to get things ready for Grannie’s return. I should probably head on home now.”

  “Another time, then,” Cal said with just the required touch of disappointment in his voice, but he was already setting up the game.

  She picked up her purse and gave Grannie another kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Grannie. Love you.”

  “Love you too, baby,” she answered, giving her a look that clearly said, We’ll talk about this later.

  Damn right we will. “Nice meeting you, Cal.”

  “And you, Helena. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

  Oh goody.

  She was thankful the grounds of the New Day Center were designed around the limitations of their guests—flat, well signed, and easy to navigate—because Helena’s head was spinning too much to pay attention to where her feet were going.

  Grannie has a boyfriend?

  There’d been that nice Mr. Costa back when Helena was still in junior high who’d taken Grannie to lunch on Sundays after church or to the occasional movie, but other than that, Grannie had never really dated. Her life had revolved around work and church and her bridge club, and, honestly, Helena had never questioned that until now.

  But now there was a Cal. She cranked the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Smilin’ white-toothed Cal with his brand-new dancin’ knee.

  And he was definitely younger than Grannie. Maybe in his late sixties? I should have stopped at the nurses’ station and gathered a little intel on this man. Grannie was seventy-five—even though she told people she was seventy. Jeez, her grandmother was practically a cougar.

  A cougar who wanted out of the nursing home because Smilin’ Cal was going home to the other side of the bay.

  She kept turning this new, quite shocking information over in her mind until she was back on the ferry, headed slowly back to Dauphin Island.

  Grannie has a boyfriend.

  It was shocking news, yes, but Helena was pleased at the same time. Grannie deserved to be happy.

  Even if she was a little weirded out about it.

  I wonder if the staff knows about their romance? Was that even allowed between patients? Or were Grannie and Cal sneaking around, arranging clandestine meetings and creeping down the hallways in the middle of the night to . . .

  No!

  She shook her head hard to get rid of the image. There was no way she could imagine her grandmother and Cal . . .

  Ugh.

  There were some places the human mind should just not go. And grandparent sex was pretty much at the top of that list.

  But the worst part settled into her mind a few minutes later.

  Her seventy-five-year-old grandmother was probably getting more action than she was.

  * * *

  Ryan was just finishing staking out the ramp to Ms. Louise’s porch when Helena pulled into the driveway, dodging his truck and the piles of various supplies he’d stacked on the concrete. As she climbed out of the car, he did a double take. That dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail against the heat again, but today Helena was in a flowing cotton sundress, arms and legs bare. It was a much different look than he remembered.

  But it suited her nicely. Too nicely.

  She surveyed his handiwork as she walked toward him. “If you run that ramp through her rosebushes, Grannie will kill you, you know.”

  The statement, which should have sounded snappy and snarky, lacked any punch at all. As she got closer, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head,
he noticed Helena’s face was pinched, her eyebrows pulling together as if she were worried or unhappy. He knew from her e-mail this morning that she was going to Fort Morgan to visit her grandmother, so this didn’t bode well. “How’s Ms. Louise?” he asked carefully.

  Tank appeared from his shady spot under the rosebushes and trotted over to greet her—a little less aggressively this time than last—and after a moment, Helena squatted down to pet him.

  “Oh, she’s splendid.” Helena made a sound suspiciously like a snort. “Better than some people half her age, in fact.”

  “That was a long drive for a quick visit, then.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Something was going on. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Not particularly.” It was an absent comment, thrown his direction as she eyeballed the outline of the ramp. “I’m serious, though. You didn’t say anything about digging up the rosebushes.”

  “Just the one bush. And I’ll move it around to the side of the porch.”

  “If it dies . . .”

  He sighed. “It won’t.”

  “If you say so. It’s your head on the block, not mine.” Pausing, Helena cocked her head and looked at him strangely. “I didn’t realize you were starting work today. I thought you were just dropping off the paint chips.”

  “I know you want this done as soon as possible, so I’m working you in around other projects.” He followed her up onto the porch into the shade. “The Millers’ new kitchen cabinets are the wrong color and had to go back to the company, so I’m here today.”

  “That’s kind of you,” she said, but she seemed only partly involved in the conversation. Unlocking the front door, she looked back over her shoulder at him. “If you’re going to be coming and going at odd hours, I should probably give you a key. I just ask that you knock before you come in.”

  “Is something wrong, Helena? You seem . . . distracted.”

  “There are just some things in life that are difficult to wrap your head around.” She shrugged as she pushed the door open and cool air came rushing out. “Come on in, and I’ll get you that key.”

  He followed her in, carefully wiping his feet on the mat first. In the kitchen, Helena opened a drawer, searched for a moment, and then tossed a key ring his way. He caught it and tucked it in his pocket. Helena hadn’t even waited to see if he had, pulling open the fridge door as soon as the key was airborne and grabbing a beer. She stopped and tilted her head in his direction. “It’s early, I know, but do you want one?”

  Drinking this early in the day? Something was definitely up. “No, thanks. Beer and power tools don’t mix. Maybe later.”

  With another of those shrugs, she took a long drink from the bottle and leaned against the counter. Then she crossed her arms and asked, “You probably know everybody in the next three counties, right?”

  “Not every—”

  She didn’t wait for him to finish. “What about a Calvin Parker over in Bayou La Batre?”

  He had to think for a minute. “I know a Cal Parker. He’s Adam’s age, maybe a little younger, runs his family’s body shop now. . . .” He trailed off as Helena shook her head.

  “Too young. Any chance that Cal’s a junior?”

  “I think he’s named for his grandfather. Why?”

  “Because I think Cal Senior is putting the moves on my grandmother.”

  Ryan was glad he’d refused that beer, or else he’d be spitting it across Ms. Louise’s black-and-white linoleum right now. “What?”

  Helena made a face and took another long swallow of her beer. “You heard me.”

  Well, being faced with her grandmother dating might explain Helena’s mood, and while the shock of it might bring a dozen questions to mind, honestly, the idea of Ms. Louise dating wasn’t something he really wanted to think about too much. He should probably offer to listen if she wanted to talk, but he really didn’t want her to take him up on the offer. Especially since visions of his own recently widowed grandmother . . . No. Stopping that train of thought right there.

  He realized his poker face might not be all that great when he heard Helena snort again.

  “Right there with you.” She rubbed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I mean, I’m happy for her, of course, but it’s not something I was quite prepared to face today. Jeez, talk about straight out of left field.”

  “Want me to call Cal—the younger one—and maybe ask him . . .” Ask him what? Is your grandfather a player? What are his intentions toward Ms. Louise? No part of that was any of his business, and Cal would think he was crazy.

  “No, but thanks.” She sighed heavily. “I’m just going to have to readjust my thinking. And it’s good, right? I worry about her being lonely, so it’ll make leaving here easier, knowing that she’s got someone who really cares for her.” Helena shook her head as if to clear it. “Okay, sorry about that. Moving on. Please feel free to come in and get drinks or whatever. Just sing out when you do so I don’t have a heart attack. I’m going to go work for a while and let you get back to what you’re doing.”

  Just like that, Helena was gone, her footsteps echoing through the house as she took the stairs two at a time. A moment later, he heard footsteps over his head, then the groan of squeaky springs as though she’d flopped onto the bed. And he just stood there, feeling dismissed out of hand. It was an unusual feeling, one he hadn’t experienced since . . . well, since the last time Helena had done it.

  He shook his head. Honestly, what did he expect? Helena had hired him to do a job, not to be her friend, and letting him get back to work would be the correct thing to do in this situation.

  But why did it sting a little?

  He moved the rosebush in question, the thorns cutting the crap out of his arms in the process, and carefully replanted it with a hope and a prayer it didn’t die. He got the holes for the footings dug and the concrete poured just about the time the sun started to set. Now he was ready for that beer, and he was just about to go into the house and get one—and hopefully talk to Helena again—when another car pulled into the driveway, and Tate Harris got out.

  He liked Tate; he really did. He was a good man, a great vet, and an asset to the community, but Ryan was getting damn tired of seeing him on Helena’s porch. Especially since anyone could see that all Tate lacked was a big bouquet of flowers to complete the “going courting” look he was sporting—freshly shaved, pressed shirt, hair still a little damp.

  Ryan wiped an arm across his sweaty forehead and pulled off his dirty work gloves. “Tate.”

  “Wow, you’re making progress already. Does Ms. Louise know you’re digging up her rosebushes, though?”

  Good Lord. He had to build a handicap-accessible ramp to code if the woman ever wanted to get into her house again. God forbid some flowers might have to be sacrificed in the process. “Just one bush. And it’s not like she doesn’t have more of them.”

  “Hey, Tate! Right on time.”

  Ryan looked over his shoulder, and something hot and heavy landed in his stomach. Helena stood in the doorway, holding the screen open. The ponytail was gone, and her hair rioted in loose curls around her face and over her shoulders. She wore another sundress, only this one was made of a silky fabric that hugged her curves in a way that made his mouth go dry.

  He heard a quiet sucking sound to his left that said Tate was having a similar reaction. But Tate was quicker to recover. “Whoa, you clean up nice, girl.”

  Helena grinned at him. “So do you.” As she pulled the door shut behind her, she turned to Ryan. “I’m going out for a while. Could you just lock up when you leave?”

  “I’m pretty much done for today.”

  “Oh, okay. Then I’ll see you later.” She was smiling—much happier than she’d been earlier—as she tucked her hand under Tate’s arm. “Where are you taking me?”

 
; “It’s a surprise,” Tate answered.

  “I remember what happened the last time you said that, and I am way overdressed to be chasing down Mr. Cutter’s goats.”

  Goats on the loose rang a bell. It figured Helena and Tate had something to do with it.

  Tate assessed her outfit. “I would pay money to see you try in those shoes.”

  In response, she elbowed him in the ribs and Tate “oofed,” causing Helena to giggle.

  He’d never heard Helena giggle. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her laugh, either—at least not in the happy, amused way. Sarcastic, bitter laughs, at the expense of others? Yeah. But happy giggles? No way.

  Helena and Tate were still arguing good-naturedly when the car doors closed, and he couldn’t hear their conversation anymore.

  This was a different Helena. But Tate didn’t seem surprised by it, so it was a side of her he obviously knew. But then, they’d been friends before she left, so Tate knew Helena in a way Ryan bet no one else in town did.

  Including him. He knew of her, about her and her reputation, but now he was dealing with a grown-up Helena, who was not the person he expected her to be.

  He could rationalize his newfound attraction to the old Helena—he was older, less self-important, long past the cliques and drama of high school. Fascination didn’t require reason.

  But this Helena? A giggling, playful friend, defender of her grandmother’s virtue as well as her rosebushes? This Helena complicated things. Because now he wasn’t just fascinated by her.

  He actually liked her.

  Chapter 5

  Bubba’s Bait Shop turned out to be a sushi bar owned and run by Bubba Mallory, whom Helena remembered as a quiet kid more interested in chess and history than most boys named “Bubba” tended to be. A sushi restaurant in Magnolia Beach was surprising enough, but the real surprise was how ridiculously good the sushi was.

  The last piece of her tiger roll sat on her plate and she eyed it longingly, but she just couldn’t take another bite—she was about to explode already. Not wanting it to go to waste, she pushed it in Tate’s direction, since he seemed to be able to eat his weight in sushi without a problem.