by Bonnie Dee
Monica laughed out loud, frightening Amber, who was digging in the soil of a house plant. The cat shot across the room and under a chair.
Her laughter died. So they both cared for each other. What good was it if she was the only one to realize it? She had no way of contacting Ryan without a last name, phone number or address. Unless he chose to come to her she might never see him again.
For a moment she felt completely hopeless and ready to cry again, and then Monica got angry. No way was she going to let the possibility of love slip through her fingers. There were clues she could use to track him down. She knew he was a student, at a community college. She knew he lived within twenty minutes of her house because he’d commented on the distance. She knew his grandmother was in a geriatric facility no more than an hour’s drive away, an upscale nursing home from what Ryan had said. Also, he had another job and he was a woodworker. She could assume that he worked construction since the last time she’d seen him he smelled like sawdust.
Sawdust and fresh sweat. Her senses instantly recalled the scent of his skin and the taste and feel of him. Focus, Monica.
She’d start by pouring over the phone book looking at local continuing care facilities. If her phone calls yielded no results, she’d storm the Labors of Love office and demand more information. Somehow she would find Ryan again even if she had to drive all over the city to do it.
*
Ryan was too busy to think about Monica often—only as he measured, cut and hammered wood or while talking dirty on the phone or during mealtimes or while he visited his grandmother or late at night when he lay in bed trying to sleep. Those were the only times he thought of her. Living without Monica was harder than he’d expected it would be.
When Ryan deposited his last Labors of Love paycheck, he thought about how he’d earned it. Overall he felt he had given appropriate service in exchange for the money, but he didn’t want to accept payment for any of his times with Monica no matter how useful the cash might be with Gram’s medical bills.
He thought about how Monica had nearly called him a whore, which shouldn’t have bothered him since that’s exactly what he was, but it had. The only way he would stop feeling bad would be if he gave her back all of her money. By now she would’ve seen from her credit card statements that he’d given her some freebies. But to clear himself completely from a sense of debt, he would return all that she’d paid for his services.
He withdrew the money from his bank account, placed it in an envelope, scrawled a quick note and drove by her house long after midnight. He jogged up the path to her house and slipped the envelope into her mailbox. Driving away, he felt better and lighter than he had in a long time.
Maybe he could finally begin to let go of his obsession with Monica.
Chapter Twelve
By early afternoon of the second day of her Ryan search, it was clear to Monica she was getting nowhere with her phone calls. She was going to need to go to some places, talk to some people personally to attempt to get information out of them. In order to do that she would need a car, which meant she would need Lisa, which meant she’d need to explain everything to Lisa, or at least parts of everything, in order to borrow her car.
Monica didn’t even stop to think about panic attacks as she planned out her mission. She called her sister at the gallery where she worked and asked her to stop by on the way home.
“Are you okay? Has something happened?”
“Yes, but nothing bad. Don’t worry. Just come.”
After the call Monica spent some time writing because no matter how obsessed she was with Ryan, she still had to pay her bills.
About an hour later she stepped out on the front porch to get her mail. She shuffled through the envelopes, separating junk mail from bills and correspondence. Suddenly she came across a thick envelope with only her name scrawled on it.
Her throat constricted and she dropped the rest of the mail on the porch floor as she opened the message. Inside was a sheaf of bills and a folded piece of paper. She opened it and read,
Monica, I’m sorry. I wish we had met under different circumstances. Here’s the rest of what you paid me. I don’t want it. You’re beautiful and sexy and I hope you find someone who appreciates you.
His signature was a capital R with squiggles after it. His awful handwriting was so endearing and annoying that Monica burst out laughing and crying at the same time. He had stood right on her porch, probably last night while she was asleep, and put this note in her box. The irony of the missed opportunity was beyond any romantic comedy farce. She sat down on her front step and shook with hysterics.
“Are you all right, honey?”
Monica dried her eyes and looked up. Mrs. Ridge was peering across the hedge. Monica’s first impulse was to politely reassure her, but instead she found herself crying “No” and bursting into fresh tears.
Mrs. Ridge came over by way of the sidewalk and sat down beside Monica. She put an arm around her shoulders and murmured soothing things, which only made Monica cry harder.
“Now tell me what’s the matter, dear. Boyfriend trouble?”
“Y-yes.” She waved the note in the air. “I don’t know how to find him and now I know he likes me too and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
The old woman didn’t question the circumstances, simply asked, “What do you know about him?”
“That he loves his Gram and she’s in a nursing home somewhere not more than an hour away, but I don’t know the name of it or her or anything.” She sniffled and rubbed her eyes.
“Well, a young man who wants his grandmother to receive the best care in the nicest place would most likely choose Rose Arbor, although Sunset Hills is another good possibility.”
Monica blinked and stared.
“Honey, I’ve done my research. When I can’t live in my own home anymore I want to know where I’m going.”
“Rose Arbor?”
Mrs. Ridge nodded. “Check that first.”
Monica hugged her hard. “Thank you!”
Just then Lisa pulled up in front of the house and jumped out of her car. She hurried up the path. “What’s going on? You sounded way too worked up over whatever it is so I knocked off work early.”
“Great cause I need a ride.”
“What? Where?”
“I’ll explain on the way. Let me go inside and get my purse and the address.”
Before the door closed behind her, Monica heard Mrs. Ridge explain to Lisa, “She’s in love. She has to go find her young man.”
*
The dining room at Rose Arbor was elegant with a subdued rose-patterned carpet and attractive landscapes in gilt frames on the walls. A hushed murmur of elderly voices filled the room. If half the people sitting at the tables hadn’t been in wheelchairs or wearing bibs, it would have seemed like merely a social gathering of any over-seventy crowd.
Ryan wiped Gram’s chin with a napkin then sat back in his chair. The meal was quite good, reminding him why he was paying so much to keep her at Rose Arbor. He had eaten his dinner and part of hers and now he was working on feeding her a small dish of ice cream.
One of the staff members stopped by their table. “Can I get either of you anything, Mr. Hayes?”
“No, thanks, I think we’re almost done here.” He scooped another spoonful of ice cream and offered it to Gram but she was closemouthed and staring fixedly across the cafeteria. He finished the ice cream.
Taking Gram by the arm, he led her back to her room. On the way he told her his schedule for the week. He always talked to her as he used to, acting as if she might understand him.
“I’m really busy and won’t be able to visit for a while. That’s why I’m here on a weekday. My job is going pretty good. It’s spring--everybody’s building. I might take a summer class or two.”
He chatted all the way back to her room then settled her in a chair and put on some music. When he turned from the stereo, she was standing and looking at him expectantly.
“You want to dance?” He took her in his arms. Her body felt like a dry fall leaf that might crumble and blow away at any moment. Hhe danced her slowly around the room to the Nat King Cole’s Unforgettable.
Afterward she was content to sit in her chair again. He kissed her cheek and whispered goodbye.
*
“Hello,” Monica greeted the Rose Arbor receptionist. “I’m here to visit a friend’s grandmother but… it’s kind of complicated, but I’ve forgotten her name.” She smiled brightly and tried to look trustworthy.
“I’m going to need a little more information than that.” The receptionist smiled back, ready to be helpful.
“My friend’s name is Ryan. You’ve probably seen him here visiting his Gram. He’s about this tall,” she demonstrated, “with sandy hair and very blue eyes. A beautiful smile and—”
The receptionist nodded. “Ryan Hayes, of course. He was here to take Pearl to dinner but he’s gone now. He just left as a matter of fact. But of course, you came to see Pearl. She’s in room 112. That’s down the hall to your left. And your name is...?”
“Monica Brennerman. And this is my sister, Lisa.”
Lisa held up a hand. “Hey.”
They walked down the hall with Lisa complaining all the way.
“I can’t believe you’ve been dating this guy without telling me. Honestly, Monica, meeting someone in a chat room and inviting him to come to your home? I don’t have to tell you how incredibly dangerous that is! But the weirdest thing is that you never learned the guy’s last name. How do you know he wants to see you again? This is bordering on creepy.”
Monica knocked on the open door of room 112. Inside, a slight woman with thin white hair sat in an armchair gazing out the window. Swing music played on the stereo.
“Hello, Gram?” Monica walked into the room.
The woman turned and smiled when she saw her. “Becky! I’ve been waiting for you for such a long time. How are you?”
“Fine.” Monica hugged the frail old body. “I’ve missed you too. Are you feeling all right?”
“Passable. I had ice cream for dinner.”
Monica walked around the room and looked at the framed photos lining the dresser top.
“Monica, you can’t do this!” Lisa whispered.
“This is him.” Monica held up a picture of Ryan, a few years younger but absolutely recognizable.
“He’s a baby!”
“He doesn’t look like that now. It’s an old picture, but that’s him.” She turned back to Pearl and offered her the picture. “Ryan.”
“Yes. That’s my Ryan. Emily’s son. I did a poor job raising that girl. She went wild and I never knew how to help her. But Ryan is my pride and joy. I’ve never seen a sweeter boy and I’m not just saying that because he’s my grandson.”
An attendant popped her head in the door. “Good evening, Mrs. Hayes. How are you this evening? Having guests, I see.”
“Hi. I’m Monica, a friend of Ryan’s.”
The attendant came into the room. “You just missed him. He was visiting earlier. There’s a lot who hardly ever come to see their folks once they get them settled, but Ryan, works, takes classes at Tri-Tech and still makes a visit here every couple of weeks.”
Monica smiled. Double score. She now knew his last name and which community college he attended. Now if she could just pin down his address. But she was stumped. She couldn’t think of the right question to ask.
“I went to Tri-Tech myself.” The attendant, whose name was Mariah according to the tag on her jacket, coaxed Pearl to take a pill. “I was studying to be a physician’s assistant but ended up working with geriatric patients instead.”
“It takes the right temperament to work with the aged,” Lisa said. “Speaking of Tri-Tech. I know it’s a community college, but isn’t there housing nearby for students? My friend is looking into going there but the commute from her house is too far.”
“There are some cheap apartments, but it’s not the safest area to live. I used to room with a couple of other girls on Patterson, only about a block from where Ryan lives as a matter of fact. Small world.”
“Yes, I’m always having odd coincidences like that.” Monica couldn’t stop grinning and Mariah looked at her curiously.
Monica bent and hugged Pearl once more. “Goodbye Mrs. Hayes. I’ll come again soon.”
“Bye-bye, Becky.”
Once they were outside the building, Monica whooped and put up her hand for a high-five.
Lisa tentatively slapped it. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Oh yeah! Now we drive to Patterson and cruise up and down the street until we see his Jeep.”
“I hate to be so negative, but what if you’re wrong? What if you go to all this trouble, find him, and he doesn’t want to see you?”
Despite her confidence Monica’s heart gave a lurch at the words but she replied, “Then I’ll feel like an idiot and go home again. But I have to try.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan closed the book resting on his chest and turned off the TV in the middle of the game. He couldn’t stay here any longer. Had to get out, go to a bar and have a beer, maybe call Tim and hang out at his house, anything but sit here alone and dreaming of Monica.
He grabbed his keys off the kitchen table and an apple, and picked up the garbage bag to take down to the dumpster. He trotted down two flights of stairs and out the front door of the building. He bit into the apple and was holding it in his teeth while struggling to jam his trash into the overflowing dumpster beside the building, when he heard his name called.
“Ryan.”
He turned and there she was, the object of his obsession, standing in the glow of a streetlight. Pretty, petite Monica on his street--at night--outdoors, while he stood with trash in one hand and his mouth stuffed full of apple.
Over her shoulder he glimpsed another dark-haired woman, similar enough for him to guess it was her sister. Then his gaze returned to Monica. Here. Now. Smiling at him and walking toward him.
He dropped the trash bag, tossed the apple aside and opened his arms for her to walk into them. He enfolded her warm, soft body in his embrace. He squeezed her almost too tight to make sure he wasn’t fantasizing and she was solid and real.
He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in. “You’re here.”
“Yes.”
“Why? How?” He pulled away to look into her beautiful gray eyes.
“It wasn’t easy. I had to track you down. And I don’t think we’ve even scratched the surface of ‘why’ yet. Something happened between us. Something real… Didn’t it?”
He smiled and nodded, suddenly too choked up to speak.
“Will you do me the honor of taking me out on a date sometime, now that I’m going out again?” she asked in the grave tone of someone proposing marriage.
“I will,” he answered just as seriously.
“This is my sister, Lisa, by the way.” Monica gestured at the girl on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around her body against the chill in the air. “She helped me look for you.”
Lisa gave a little wave. “Hey.”
Ryan rested his forehead against Monica’s. “I’m glad you came. I didn’t think you could.”
“I guess I can do anything given the right incentive.” She rose on her toes and kissed him.
His mouth opened and claimed hers in a deep, possessive kiss.
They kissed until Lisa cleared her throat then Monica pulled back. “I have one question for you,” she whispered. “What about Travis? Why did he participate without getting paid?”
“I told him I’d help him build a deck in his backyard.”
She shook her head. “For me? I can’t believe it. Why would you do that?”
“I wanted you to have what you wanted, to make you happy.”
“This is what I want,” she said, pressing her lips to his again. “This is what makes me happy.”
“Then this is wh
at you’ll get.” He hugged her so hard he lifted her off her feet.
“Okay, time out. I’m right here, standing like ten feet away. I can’t take much more of this,” Lisa complained. “Can I leave now? It looks like you have a ride home when you need it.”
Monica turned toward her sister without moving out of the circle of Ryan’s arms. “Sorry. Thank you so much for driving me all over today.” She glanced at Ryan. “Do I have a ride home? You look like you were about to go somewhere.”
“No place at all. I’ll be happy to stay in."
*
Monica watched the muscles in Ryan’s bare back ripple as he hammered nails into her trellis. It was barely summer but already his skin was tan and the highlights in his hair sun-brightened from hours spent outdoors every day. She sipped her lemonade and watched him lift the trellis upright and position it in place, giving it a shake to make sure it was solid. She could have gotten up to help him, but watching him work was so much more fun.
He stepped back to admire his work. “There you go. Do you want it painted or stained or leave it natural?”
“Natural is fine. I’m going to have morning glories covering it before the end of summer.”
He sauntered over to the table and picked up the other glass of lemonade. The condensation on the glass dripped onto his chest, mingling with the sheen of sweat and Monica felt a similar wetness between her thighs. She’d turned into a nympho. Her pussy did all her thinking for her these days and her brain seemed to have gone on permanent vacation.
Catching her hungry look, Ryan set down the glass and reached out for her hand. He pulled her to her feet and twirled her around the patio for a few steps then pulled her against his sweaty body and kissed her.
Her fingers tangled in the damp hair at the nape of his neck as she curved her hand around it.
“You ready for this evening?” he asked.
