Reviving Jules

by Peggy Trotter

  “We need to get you to a doctor,” he stated.

  “Is she gonna die?” Andi wedged her way practically in Jules’ lap, her eyes huge with concern.

  A rumble of laughter sounded deep in Rhett’s throat. “No, Peaches, but she has quite a bump. Now step back and give her some air.”

  Jules inhaled to clear her head and attempted a lighthearted laugh. She hated people to see her injured. “It’s just a little bruise.”

  “What happened, Jules?” Andi patted her arm. “Did you fall off the merry-go-round?”

  Jules smiled, ignoring Rhett’s look of concern. “No, nothing that exciting. Just the old garage door. It really doesn’t like me.”

  “Let me get you some more ice, and then I should run you to the clinic.” Rhett rose, grabbed more from the freezer, and wrapped it in a couple paper towels. He returned and placed it back on her forehead.

  Jules shook her head. “I’m not going to a doctor for a little swelling.”

  His face was so close. Jules’ breath stuck in her throat.

  “I think it’d be best if you had it examined. Just in case. Here, close your eyes. Now open them.” He paused as he studied her then shrugged, “You don‘t seem to have a concussion. Your pupils are responding normally.”

  His hands probed the spot once more. Pain cascaded through her skull. “Please, Rhett, I just need some ibuprofen, some ice, and a little rest. That’s it. I can’t afford to go to the doctor.”

  “That’s a lousy reason for not checking it out, Jules.”

  She took a deep breath, and her head pounded harder. “Spoken like a man who has plenty of insurance. The medicine is in the second cabinet.”

  He stared a long moment, making Jules squirm. With a sigh, he stood and retrieved the painkiller with a glass of water. She swallowed it quickly before pressing the ice back against the swollen spot.

  “Well, if you’re not going to the doctor, you’re at least coming to our house for the day to make sure you’re okay.” Rhett stood and then bent to pick her up again.

  “Uh-uh. Please Rhett, I can walk. Although it appears otherwise, I’m not helpless.”

  Lands, the throbbing increased as she stood. Wooziness swept over her. Swallowing, she tried to walk in a straight line. Rhett’s arm wrapped around her middle, and his other hand engulfed her elbow. She hated to admit it, but she was relieved for the assistance.

  She tottered to the truck as Andi leaped about like an excited lamb. After opening the vehicle door, Rhett picked her up and slid her into the seat. He pulled the belt across her body and clicked it into place.

  Despite the pain, Jules breathed in the woodsy mix of Rhett and his soap. For one brief, insane moment, she wanted to do nothing more than lay her throbbing head against his intoxicating neck to rest and breathe in the heady scent. But he drew away and rushed Andi into her booster in the second row of seats before they were off.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Jules gripped the armrest.

  “Andi has an unused snow day, so I took off. Thank the Lord we came over.”

  Jules couldn’t argue with that.

  She spent the rest of the day on Rhett’s couch, being catered to left and right, which she rather enjoyed. After napping off and on, by evening she felt more like herself. Herself, with a monster headache. Rhett suggested several more times about seeing a doctor. The same argument ensued. She was not borrowing more money from Rhett. At last she convinced him to take her home.

  Since they’d left the slider unlocked, Rhett checked for intruders before allowing her back inside the house, which Jules found humorous. Andi proceeded to give Jules a mini-lesson on how to make her bed so she’d be more comfortable.

  “You really ought to turn the air on, Jules,” Rhett commented.

  “Yes, why haven’t I thought of that?” Jules giggled as she settled in her aluminum ‘recliner,’ that pathetic lawn chair.

  Rhett paused at her thermostat.

  “Don’t waste any time, Rhett. My house has no air-conditioning. I thought it did, which is why my jeep ended up in the electric company’s parking lot for two days. But then you waved your magic wand, and now, walah, I have electricity, but alas, no air.” She laughed at her own silliness. My, she was getting punchy.

  “Why didn’t you say so? We could’ve picked up a window unit to cool off this area.”

  She sighed. “Don’t worry about me, Rhett. I’m sure you have plenty going on without rescuing air-conditionless damsels. I’ll manage.”

  He walked to her and knelt in front of her. Oh, gracious. The man was handsome. Terribly handsome. Her chest constricted.

  “Like you managed the garage door?” One of his dark brows rose and a mocking smile lit the corner of his mouth.

  Jules’ face puckered, reminding her of her injury. But pain or no pain, handsome went out the door. “I can take care of myself, Rhett Carsen, thank you very much.”

  Oh, that small spasm of anger made her brain thump. She leaned her head against the back of the lawn chair and closed her eyes.

  “Jules,” he murmured. “Jules,” he prodded again until she brought her face down to his and locked gazes.

  She stared into those deep blue eyes. Oh, the smell of the man and now the blueness of his eyes. They were absolutely beautiful. Hypnotic, and strangely exhilarating. How many ibuprofen had she taken?

  “Don’t be angry. I just want to help. If Andi and I hadn’t been out of town this weekend, you wouldn’t have even been in that garage, because I’d have mowed your lawn for you. I repaired that door, so I feel partially responsible.”

  “Well, you needn’t.” Her voice barely rose to a whisper. “I’m an old lady who can take care of herself.”

  Remember. He was young. She was old. The thought scatted across her thumping brain.

  That low rumble of laughter met Jules’ ears. “All right, grandma. You win.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  He flashed Jules a smile. Man, the woman was stubborn. “Okay to check on you in the morning? Or will I get the third degree?”

  He could tell “grandma” did not sit well with her. Her brows drew together. Then she sighed. It was her fault. She started it. Little did she know, she didn’t appear older. He’d have never guessed if she hadn’t shared the information.

  Her bottom lip protruded. “I might be asleep.”

  He grinned and couldn’t resist one last jab. “Well, turn up your hearing aid so you hear me.”

  She groaned and put a hand to her head. “Rhett Carsen, you are the limit.”

  He reared back and laughed. Rather than keep the banter going, he gathered Andi who was still fussing over the bed. Before he shut the door, he winked, chuckling. The woman was a riot.

  At promptly seven the next morning, Rhett packed the small room air conditioner from his truck to Jules’ house. She might have his head over this one. He balanced the large box on his shoulder and knocked. After several minutes, it swung open. Jules, hair mussed, covered in a fluffy pink robe, appeared at the door, looking less than enthused.

  “Morning, Sunshine.”

  “Oh, my stars. Must you? What is that?”

  He pushed his way past the pink grumpy bunny and shifted over to the window. “This, my lady, is your air conditioner.”

  “I didn’t order that. Rhett, really. You…”

  He set the box down and rose. “I seem to remember you argued less when you were tired. Perhaps this could be one of those times?”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. Waving her hand at him, she turned to the hallway. “Whatever. I need to pee.”

  He snorted. “Good to know.”

  The unit slid into the open window, and he fanned out the partitions on each side to block the outside heat. He plugged it in, flipped the switch, and cool air poured from the vents. Ah. One problem solved. And now, the next. He strode to the refrigerator and swung the door open. Knew it. A fresh batch of her favorite drink. Yanking one from the shelf, he waited for
her return.

  “Oooh.” She screamed when she reappeared. “Jeebers, you scared the skin off me.”

  He leaned against the fridge door. “You do remember letting me in a few minutes ago, right?”

  She groaned. “Yes, yes. I just didn’t expect you to be right there, ready to pounce.”

  “I see. Drink?” He proffered the bottle. “I probably better go.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m being such a whiner.” She fell into the lawn chair. “My head hurts, plus I didn’t get much sleep. Anyway, thank you for the air conditioner. I promise I’ll pay you…sometime in the next fifteen years.”

  He knelt in front of her chair. “Well, you’d better hurry. Andi and I are on the brink of destitution.”

  A smile stretched across her sleep-puffy face. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

  He waggled his brows at her. “Why, yes. I believe I do.”

  She rubbed her eyes before parking her cheek on her fist. “How does one come up with an air conditioner in the middle of the night anyway?”

  He rose and meandered toward the door. “My magic wand, remember?”

  “Seriously, where did you find an air conditioner before seven in the morning?” She punctuated the sentence with a reluctant grin and a head shake of wonder.

  He crossed his arms. “You forget, Jules. Even in a rural area such as this, department stores stay open all night. And they sell small air conditioners.”

  “You didn’t happen to leave your daughter at that twenty-four/seven establishment did you?” She grinned.

  He merely thumbed her view through the glass doors, and Andi, dressed for school, followed a small gray kitten across the backyard.

  “Face it,” he winked, “you’ve been upstaged by a cat.”

  Jules rose and walked toward the slider. She kicked her bed out of the way so she could stand in front of the door. Andi bounded about the yard in total joy, the kitten clutched at her chest as she whirled and pranced.

  “It is the simple things, isn’t it?” Jules sighed.

  Rhett came to stand beside her, his eyes on Jules. He arched his brow upward. “You’re turning a little philosophical in the early morning aren’t you?”

  Jules turned her face to him with a saucy tilt of her head. “And you’re sassy.”

  His grin grew. “I doubt I’ve ever been sassy in my life. Aggravating, maybe, but never sassy.”

  * * *

  Jules studied his mocking face. He was probably right. Sassy seemed childish, even feminine. He was definitely not childish, and in no way feminine. He sported a slight shadow across his jaw, as if he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. She swallowed a lump and pulled her gaze away. Most certainly masculine.

  “I should pay you for the air conditioner. Let me grab my purse.” She shuffled from his masculine presence before she said or did anything stupid.

  “No time. Gotta get the girl to school. But I wouldn’t mind breakfast.” He cocked his head at her. She stopped dead in the hallway at his suggestion.

  “Breakfast?” Her voice squeaked. Her face gave away more than she liked.

  He grinned, clicked his tongue, and walked to her refrigerator to pull the door open. Gesturing to the sodas, a package of bologna, cheese slices, and a box of baking soda, he grinned. “Really?”

  “I…” she paused. There was really no explanation. She seldom ate, and when she did, she picked up something already made. She shrugged.

  He shut the door and pointed at her like he was correcting a small child. “All right. I’ll drop Andi off first. Then pick up some breakfast, and you are going to eat something.”

  She stood up straight. Humph. She had a right to have nothing in her refrigerator. “I hardly think you…”

  “No, you hardly shop. And you probably hardly eat.” His eyes ran up and down her body. Jules gripped the robe as if she wore a too skimpy bathing suit.

  He walked to the door. “I’ll be back, and you, be ready to eat.”

  And before she could build up the indignation to snap at him, he disappeared.

  Jules showered and was brushing the snarls from her hair when she caught sight of Rhett on her back step through the slider. He carried a couple of plastic bags from a local grocery store. She rushed to open the door, and he entered and laid his burden on the counter near the stove. He clapped his hands and then rubbed them together.

  “Now, we cook.”

  “I thought you were bringing something already made.”

  He parked fists on his hips and shot her a mocking glance. “Now, why would I cheat you out of this cooking experience?”

  “Because my pans are packed away in a box?” She raised both eyebrows and gave an “I-told-you-so,” eye-roll.

  He turned to face her. His eyes went to her hair, combed and wet, and a change came over his expression. “I seldom see you with your hair down. It’s long.”

  Jules chewed her lip and fought the heat dancing up her neck. Had his voice deepened? “Yeah, I usually put it up. It’s always in the way.”

  She removed the elastic band from her wrist and flipped her hair into a ballet bun like normal. With a shrug, she ventured, “I probably should whack it all off anyway.”

  A grin appeared on his face. “I hear people cook with long hair. Besides, it’d be a shame. It is an attractive color. Unusual.”

  A nervous laugh popped out. “Yes, so unusual I was called, hmmm, let’s see, Carrot-top, Orange head, and my all-time favorite, Rusty. Now, how ’bout them pans?”

  She pivoted to put some distance between her and him, but he followed her to her storage bedroom where boxes lined the inner wall. She poured over the labels she’d jotted on each.

  “How long have you lived here?” Rhett tilted his head as he studied the containers.

  She ran a finger down one box, reading the list. “Several months, I guess.”

  “So why is all your stuff still packed?”

  A whoosh of air expelled from her lungs, and she froze. How dare he ask that? He who always carried a snatch of sorrow on his face? Who, according to his daughter, clutched his dead wife’s picture in the middle of the night?

  Anger roiled in her stomach. Her breathing sped up and she turned to glare at him, hands clenched into fists at her sides. She couldn’t speak. All she could do was stand there and breathe in gasps. How could he…? But his face revealed understanding, an empathy, a reflection of profound sadness, and as swiftly as it had come, the fury drained away.

  He walked toward her and enfolded her in his arms, and she sobbed into his shirt. His mouth whispered soft comfort in her ear until the pain eased into short hiccups. His hands rubbed across her back in soothing strokes. The rasp of his stubble strafed her cheek. Heat filled her face. She sniffed and pulled away.

  He kept one arm around her shoulders and pointed with the other hand toward the boxes. “Here’s the one with the pans, Jules. Let’s fix breakfast.”

  * * *

  Breakfast turned out to be a quiet affair, the atmosphere odd and tense. They cooked, they ate, he left. She breathed a sigh of relief when he’d gone, and buried her face in her hands. An incredible tangle of emotions wadded in her head, and an uncomfortable knot settled in her stomach. Strange emotions whirled through her. With gritted teeth, she reminded herself that he was thirty-five. She, a divorcee and already thirty-nine. Besides, never again would she be involved with a man. Why was this happening?

  Her one chance of being happily married had been abruptly terminated. She sighed as she pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms around them, resting her head against her knees. But she appreciated his comfort. He hadn’t asked any probing questions. No long preachy explanations of why she felt this way, or lecture on getting over such a heartache. He was just there. A companion. A friend. End of story.

  * * *

  She buried herself in her routine the next couple of weeks. Work, church, and sitting downstairs away from Rhett and Andi’s places in the balcony, and library school. The downtime
proved challenging to fill, but she found odd errands. She called her lawyer about the whole money tie-up. He assured her it wouldn’t be long. She searched the wanted ads for a better job with benefits. She read. She walked. Mowed early so Rhett didn’t feel obligated.

  She drove around the area in her jeep. Organized boxes then re-organized them. Laundry. A bit of grocery shopping. A very little bit. Sigh. She just plain kept busy. She didn’t see hide nor hair of Rhett and Andi except at church, and only from a distance.

  Finally, after a long two weeks of avoiding Rhett, and a particularly hectic Thursday at the snack shop, Jules decided to call Hannah. Usually, she called on Monday, but an urgency filled her gut.

  She made change at the old cash register’s drawer for the last time that day. Calling out a farewell, she marched for the door. Jules turned right and walked the half block to the pay phone. She dialed the number, inserted the required change, and kept a small pile of coins to continue the call, like always.

  Hannah answered, her voice shrill. “Oh, Mom, I’m so glad you called. It’s Dad. They had a car wreck on their way back from Florida.”

  “What?” Her heart tripped along double time. “You’re talking too fast. There was an accident?”

  “They’re both dead!” Hannah’s voice disappeared into sobs.

  Jules swayed. Dead? Darrell was dead? Sharp pains shot through Jules’ knees. She looked down, the receiver dangled free from her hand in front of her face. How had she fallen? Somehow, she knelt on the broken sidewalk, and gritty pieces of gravel imbedded into her skin. A horrible hot wave swept over her, and her stomach lurched. She was going to vomit. Where was Hannah? Hadn’t she been talking to her?

  Was Hannah all right? She had to take care of her daughter. Her brain scrambled for reality. Everything seemed a haze. Her mouth opened to speak, but her stomach took a dip. Clawing her way over the choppy concrete, she crawled into the vacant, weed-infested parking lot. Her skin grew wet and hot. Cold…no, hot. Then cold again. Darrell was dead.

  She needed to reach the tall grass. As her hands touched the coolness of the weeds, she gagged. After choking several times, she sucked air, but her stomach rolled again. Regurgitated food retched from her throat and splatted across the ground.