by C. C. Koen
“Oh, you two are going to make me cry. You better get in there. Visiting hours are over in five minutes.”
Somehow he found the strength to move, wheeling Cece next to the bed. “He got lotsa booboos.”
He knelt next to her, worry taking over as he examined the wires attached to Grandfather’s chest, an IV, and monitors beeping. Although her request meant well, he hadn’t considered how his grandfather’s condition might scare her. Lowering his tone and as gently as possible he said, “He’s got one right here.” He pointed to the middle of his own chest, his heart. “The doctors said he’ll be fine. He even got up and walked a little like you.”
Cece laid her hand on his grandfather’s, tucking her fingers under his palm, and pulled it to her lips. She kissed his knuckles and with her lips pressed on that spot whispered, “Wish ya all better.” Then she returned his arm to the same place without waking him. She turned toward Rick and patted his cheek. “Itta be okay.”
“You know what, sweet pea? I think you’re right.” He grinned the slightest bit, and she gave him one too. “You’re a good girl.”
Pure innocence didn’t describe the look she beamed up at him when she asked, “Can ya get gum now?”
He shook his head, chuckling as they met up with Kat. “Only the rugrat can make ya laugh when you feel like shit.”
Now he knew where Cece got her snarky side from, because it sure wasn’t from Maggie. As they walked toward the elevators, he added a quip of his own. “How 'bout give your mama some of that.”
Cece sighed and bent an arm over her shoulder, patting his fingers as he pushed the chair. “She gotta get a booboo first.”
Her witty comeback thrust lighthearted amusement onto his otherwise crappy day. Too bad he wasn’t a kid again. He could just jump off his bike, scrape his knees a bit, and all would be better.
If life were only that simple.
“Look who I found?” His mom had a cup of coffee in one hand, and in her other she held Cece’s. Instead of a hospital gown, Cece had on sweatpants and a T-shirt.
“My booboo better. I goin’ home,” Cece said quietly as her gaze darted back and forth from him to his grandfather while she crept closer to Rick’s chair.
“Is your mama with you?”
Cece shook her head. “Kitty,” she whispered as she scooted onto his lap, pecking him on the cheek, and along with it, a strong whiff of Bubblicious lingered. Her observant eyes landed on his grandfather, and she stared at his chest. “Ya heart broke?”
Silence except for the vent blowing tepid air and the monitors beeping. Cece slid off his legs and shuffled a few steps to Grandfather’s chair. The nurses had him up first thing this morning, and since Rick arrived a half hour ago, his grandfather had been sitting there eating his breakfast. The tray and cart had been moved to the other side of the room, giving Cece open access. She pointed to the tape on top of Grandfather’s hand and touched the edge. “It hurts.” She held her hand out showing him the sticky tape marks on her own, a tinge of red evidence of her IV. Then she pushed her shirt above her belly button, tapping her stitches and repeated the painful claim. Covering back up, she dug into the front pocket of her sweatpants and pulled out a pack of gum that had one piece left. “Ya can have it. I better.” She set it down on Grandfather’s gowned lap and patted his knee. “I gived ya my wish. Ya better too, Papa.”
Closed-off, buttoned-up Horatio Stone must not have known what to make of whirlwind Cece and her simplistic view of his condition, because his reaction from the time she entered had been just one; mouth opening and closing, he hadn’t spoken a word. In fact, Grandfather had little to say since he woke up in recovery three days ago. The totality of their exchanges involved Rick asking: “Do you need anything? Are you in pain? Can I help you?” And Grandfather’s replies: no, yes, no.
Cece turned and wound her arms around his neck. “Max, I gotta tell ya somefin.” His mom gasped and grabbed the bed railing, where she’d been watching Cece with an amused grin until now. “I love you,” she whispered, but the one thing about Cece, her voice carried like a megaphone regardless. Wrapped in each other’s arms, he held on tight, because he didn’t know when or where he’d see her again. He just knew no matter what, he had to find a way to spend time with her, stay a part of her life.
Pressed together cheek to cheek, he reminded her how he felt. “I love you too, sweet pea, so, so much.”
Kat knocked on the door, popping her head in. “Time to go, munchkin.”
Cece walked across the room, fingers scrunched into her palm, waving first at his grandfather, then at him, and at his mother, leaving them all in her wake.
After she disappeared, his mom closed the door. “She calls you Max?”
He leaned back in his chair and threaded his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “From the day I met her, Mom. She introduced herself as Cecily Bryna Tyson, so I used my full name too. She’s called me Max ever since.”
Covering her mouth with a hand, his mom spoke through her fingers. “Your daddy . . .” All she got out before a tear rolled down her cheek.
He knew how she felt. The name floored him the first time Cece said it too. Now, he didn’t want to hear anything else.
“You love her.”
Grandfather’s gruff statement swept his gaze toward him. Rick wasn’t prepared for an exhausting battle and didn’t want to get in an argument. He nodded, confirmation enough.
“The girl, the mother too?”
Rick scrubbed a hand over his face, across the three-day stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave. Not ready to talk about Maggie with anyone, his wound-tight nerves had him bolting out of his seat and staring at the swaying trees in the windy rain. His chin slumped into his chest as he rested his arms on the vent and let the burst of air cool him off. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t care.”
His grandfather’s snort had him shooting a glare at the sick man. The pain twisting in his chest and gut forced him to ignore that fact at the moment. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Grandfather smirked, and after a long pause, tilted his head and asked, “You ever been in love, boy?”
Grandfather’s dig cut deep, causing him to hang his head again. “Drop it. I’m not talkin’ to you about it.”
“She already has you wound around her finger, doesn’t she?”
He snapped, confronting him at the worst possible time. “Nothing ever changes. You’re not happy unless you’re ridin’ me about something. From the minute I turned eighteen you’ve dictated every move, and you can’t stand I can manage without you, can you?”
“Rick, that’s enough.” His mom closed in, grabbing his arm. “Don’t talk to your grandfather that way. Not now or ever.”
His eyes shifted back and forth between them, a dumbfounded chuckle rolling through him as he attempted to set them straight. “You both realize I’m not a kid anymore, right? I’ve had it up to here,” he stretched his arm above his head as far as he could reach, “with him butting into my life, telling me who I should be with, who to get married to, and how to run my company.”
“According to you, the company isn’t yours anymore.” Grandfather must be all better, because he hadn’t spoken this much since their confrontation in the office. Miracle cure. Too bad Cece couldn’t fix his grumpiness and foul attitude.
“What’s he talking about, Rick?” Mom yanked on his arm. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Mom, don’t worry about it.”
“Horatio, what happened?” She assumed a mother-means-business stance, hands on hips, lips pinched. “What have you been up to now?”
“Ah, don’t be getting your panties in a bunch, Emma. Your boy’s just pissed because he’s having girlfriend troubles.”
“Girlfriend tr—” Rick argued.
Another knock on the door interrupted their heated discussion. A nurse came in rolling a blood pressure gauge and thermometer. “I have to check your vitals. Visiting hours are ove
r. You can come again at one.”
He nodded, and as he walked out, Grandfather called for him. “Don’t come back. You’ve been out long enough. The business won’t run itself. I bet they robbed you blind by now.”
While shaking his head, Rick blew out his frustration, but it didn’t alleviate the tension. “What are you saying? What do you want?”
Grandfather stared at him quite a while before answering. The nurse recorded his blood pressure, and when she put the thermometer up to his ear, he held his hand up, halting her. “You want me out?”
“Do we have to talk about this now? You need to focus on your recovery, not work.”
“That’s what I’m doing. Answer the question.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded.
“All right. It’s yours. It always has been.”
Nothing left to say, Rick turned around ready to do as Grandfather said and return to his office. As always his grandfather had to have the final word. “I won’t interfere anymore.”
Whether it was a concession or not, he didn’t care. For once, he escaped a round against him. This time, though, Rick couldn’t hold back a smile.
THE HALF DOZEN BUTTERMILK PANCAKES that Maggie cooked were light and fluffy and waiting for someone other than her to eat them. She put them in the oven to keep warm as Kat strolled in ready for work.
“Munchie not awake?”
“She had a hard time falling asleep, so I put her in bed with me. She didn’t move an inch when I got up.” Exhausted from a sleepless night herself, Maggie pulled out a chair from under the kitchen table and collapsed.
Kat filled a travel cup and dug a blueberry muffin out of the tin that Maggie baked a few minutes ago. While Kat spoke with a full mouth, crumbs spat out. “She’s got the rest of the week to chill, you too. Enjoy the time off. I’ll do all the work and bring home the bacon while you sit on your ass.”
Maggie shook her head as she refilled her mug and went over to the screen door. Lavender tulips, yellow and white daffodils, and rainbow colored impatiens she’d planted along the fence line on both sides of the backyard were in full bloom, and the rocks Cece painted eight different shades provided a vibrant border. The crisp, morning air filled her lungs while she stared at the cloudless, pale blue sky. “I left a message for Jake.”
“You what?” Kat tugged on her arm. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” Squeezed together in the narrow doorway, Kat’s shoulder wedged in next to her, filling up the teeny space and in full-blown intimidation mode.
Not wanting to begin her day with a heated argument, Maggie spoke matter of fact. “He had a right to know she was in the hospital.”
“What part of no contact didn’t you understand when Matt told you. All you’re gonna do is piss Jake off more. He never wanted her in the first place. So, what, you think time away will make him change? Heart grows fonder bullshit. What planet are you living on?”
Fury burst inside Maggie. More than ready for a catfight, she faced her sister. “Don’t make me out to be a lunatic. He’s her father. I was letting him know, that’s all. I don’t expect or want anything.”
“Want anything? How about him stayin’ the fuck out of your life? How about that, Mags? Or do you think I’m stupid and didn’t see you stuffin’ a letter in your pocket yesterday? Did he call you?”
Maggie glanced outside and watched the swings sway in the gentle breeze, and after a while shook her head.
“No what? Letter or call, quit hidin’ shit.”
“Could you stop swearing?”
Nudging a shoulder into Maggie’s, Kat wrapped an arm around her waist, pinching it. “You aren’t helping the situation. If you won’t listen to Matt, please hear what I’m tellin’ you. Make copies of all the letters, every one of them. Put 'em in an envelope and send them to the district attorney. I checked the Vine system a few weeks ago and there’s no change in his status. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be. The prisons are overcrowded, and most cons don’t serve full sentences. You need to take his threats seriously. And yeah, I know there’s more than what you’re showin’ me. What I read was bad enough. I can imagine what the others say. He’s pissed, and even if he doesn’t take it out on you later, you have to protect Cece. Remember what you told me in the hospital?”
Without waiting for a response, Kat continued with her scare tactics. “If anything happened to her . . . that’s what you need to keep in mind. Every time he’s around and even when he’s not, he hurts her. He might not have abused her in the physical sense, but he’s cruel in other ways. Kids sense a hell of a lot more than we give 'em credit for. She might put on a brave face, but she learned to stay away. She doesn’t trust him, and I don’t think she ever will. You don’t think kids can figure out they’re not wanted?” Maggie opened her mouth to tell her sister she loved Cece and wanted her, but Kat cut her off. “You’ve been both mommy and daddy and believe me she knows that.”
“Has she said something?” Her concern elevated to panic level.
“I’m not betraying her trust that way, but believe me, she knows he doesn’t love her.”
“But—”
“No buts, Mags. You can’t fix him or change the way he feels.” Kat squeezed Maggie’s shoulder, her frown turned into a smirk and disappeared just as fast. “But you can give the munchkin something she really wants.”
“What?” She grabbed Kat’s hand, willing to accept her sister’s insight if it would make Cece happier.
“Hmm . . .” Kat tapped her chin with her finger, drawing out the anticipation and making Maggie crazy. “I’ll give you a hint . . . six-pack, thirty-something . . .”
Before Kat finished, Maggie slammed open the screen door and rushed down the steps, stomping across the overgrown lawn. She didn’t want to hear any more. Taking her advice would be like jumping out of a frying pan and into the fire. She hadn’t told Kat about the elder Mr. Stone’s threats, and she didn’t plan to either.
“What’s wrong with you?” Kat stormed after her, raring to go again.
Maggie plopped down in a swing and kicked the grass, swaying back and forth. “I thought you didn’t like Rick.”
There were three other slings to choose from, and of course Kat picked the seat next to her. Kat’s legs pumped really fast as she tried to kick the leaves hanging from a low branch Maggie meant to cut down. “I got over it, you should too.”
“I don’t need to get over anything.”
Kat snorted, and on a downward pass, snagged the chain at Maggie’s shoulder and yanked, almost knocking her off the seat as it twisted side to side and tipped forward. Maggie clasped onto the metal links above her head, threw her legs straight out, and planted her sneakers in the grass so she didn’t fall. “I have enough man troubles, don’t you think? Isn’t that what you were warning me about two seconds ago?”
“Oh, honey, Rick Stone kinda trouble, you definitely want.” Kat’s growl took on a whole different tone, deep and seductive followed by heavy panting like a dog left out in hundred-degree heat.
Unable to hold it in, Maggie burst out laughing as Kat flicked her tongue along her forefinger and sucked it into her mouth, imitating a sex act. “You’re a sick, demented individual, you know that, right?”
At least five feet in the air, in an upswing, Kat leapt off her seat and planted both legs on the ground, tossing her hands above her head as if she were a gymnast performing a full vault. She swung around and took a bow, saluting Maggie while walking toward the kitchen. “I gotta get to work. Do me a favor, Mags.”
Since Maggie had the rest of the week off she figured Kat would assign some chore or maybe even impart more of her sage advice. Because they ended their discussion on a somewhat positive note, she decided not to ignore her. “What’s that?”
“Get laid.”
Another load of laundry in the machine, a basket of Kat’s clothes folded and ready to put away, Maggie scratched off each chore listed on a notepad next to her cell phone on the counter. The
entire house swept, upstairs and down, she turned the hot tap on in the kitchen and set the bucket underneath, ready to scrub the shelves in the fridge and the interior of the oven. The busier she kept herself, the less time she’d have to think. Even after Kat’s warnings, her brain refused to focus on Jake. Instead it taunted her with sexy images of Rick. After planting the “get laid” seed, he’d been all she could think about.
Six pack, twelve, she hadn’t counted. The part that kept popping up in her mind, the rigid length he’d pressed into the crease of her behind on numerous occasions. She wondered how big he was. By the evidence, she guessed at least seven, eight inches. No idea what size a typical guy might be, she knew he wasn’t average in any way. If she traced his expansive shoulders and narrow waist with her tongue, his outline would form a perfect triangle. The tip pointing to the grand prize hidden behind his form-fitting dress pants that cupped his butt, and the treasure she couldn’t seem to stop obsessing about, front and center, below his belt.
His scent, like a wild berry pie baked over an apple wood fire, conjured up a different kind of emotion. Fond memories of family and camping. For as long as she could remember, their summer vacations were spent in the Colorado Mountains, roughing it in a tent and fishing from Dad’s rowboat. They were some of her happiest moments, and the kind she wanted Cece to experience too. An image of Rick roasting marshmallows over a campfire made her smile. She couldn’t picture Mr. Executive enjoying something so primitive. What she envisioned, though, was Rick standing next to the flickering and dancing flames, unbuttoning his crisp white dress shirt in a slow striptease just for her.
As she sat back on her legs, removing a casserole dish and a bag of fresh veggies from the bottom shelf of the fridge, her mind wandered to his strong hands, which didn’t belong to someone in corporate America. His thick-veined grip could be a construction worker’s, more apt to lift steel beams and operate a jackhammer than shuffle papers. Whenever he yanked her against him, she got a tingling rush. To be manhandled by him, yeah, she’d love that. He’d shove her pants down, drop to his knees, and spread her legs wide. His long fingers and tongue would ram into her core. She sighed. Yep, rough sex would definitely be his style.
