After pulling the sheet off the bed and wrapping it around me like a toga, I quietly reach for a vase on the dressing table. I creep out into the hall, the vase held high, ready to bring it down on any intruder who might be lurking about. But just as I enter the living room, a light flicks on, and I see a woman heading for the kitchen.
She looks over, surprised. “Hannah?”
I sheepishly lower the vase. “Grandma?”
“Sorry to wake you. I didn’t want to turn on the light, but I knocked over a chair when I came in, and I figured the light was better than destroying the house.”
My brain is still half asleep. I’ve probably already had the equivalent of a full night’s rest, but because of the travel, I still feel like I’m wading through a mental puddle of Jell-O. And the vision of my grandmother standing in front of me does not reconcile with the fragile, wheelchair-bound image I had built up in my head.
Sheila Walker is dressed in a suede vest and a green, blue, and purple skirt with gold tassels hanging off the hem. There’s a sling on her right arm, and something that looks like a purple stocking adorns her left. A rainbow scarf is wrapped around her hair, but I can see long white waves underneath.
“Are those your pajamas?” I ask, pointing to her outfit.
She furrows her brow and then chuckles. “No, of course not. I just got in. I was at a friend’s house down the road; they have a full-moon party every month. These are my dancing clothes.”
My mouth drops open. “You were at a dance party?”
“Yes. It’s a shame you missed it. I did consider waking you earlier, but you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
I rub my eyes. “Is that glitter on your chest?”
She grins. “That was from Ginger, the hostess. She insisted on dousing everyone in body paint and glitter when we arrived. I agreed to the glitter, but last time I consented to the paint, I broke out in a rash. Anyway, enough about me. Come over here and let me get a good look at you.”
I cautiously walk over and stand in front of the woman I haven’t seen in ten years. She looks me up and down. “Definitely a Walker. Those eyes. And those hips.”
I’m not sure how to take that. “Uh, thank you?”
She pats me on the arm. “Come on. I’ll make you a cup of tea.” And then she seems to realize that doing this requires more than one hand. “If you don’t mind filling the kettle for me.”
I figure I’m probably not going to be able to sleep again immediately, so I follow her into the kitchen and find a pink and orange teapot in the cupboard. I remove the lid, and Grandma adds a few leaves to the strainer.
“Lemon myrtle,” she explains. “I have a tree out the back. It’s great for your skin and for detoxing. God knows I need a liver detox after all the wine I drank tonight.”
I find myself at a loss for words. My grandmother has a more active social life than I do. And once my dad finds out about her escapades, I can’t imagine he’ll be open to me coming home in a hurry.
The kettle boils, and I pour the water into the teapot.
Grandma sits down on a stool near the counter. “We’ll just let it steep for a moment. How was the trip?”
“Oh, it was…long.”
“And you found this place all right?”
“I used the car’s GPS. I think I would have struggled otherwise.”
“Some visitors get confused with the shared driveway.”
“Thankfully, Dad gave me instructions.” I can’t contain my curiosity any longer. “I thought you’d be less…mobile.”
She waves her good hand dismissively. “The doctors were worried because of my age, but honestly, if this had happened to a twenty-year-old, it would have barely registered on their radar. They needn’t have worried, though. My recent bone density test came back perfect, and I’ve apparently got the constitution of someone half my age.”
I try not to frown. It appears that my grandmother may not need much physical assistance while I’m here, but I’ll have to be on my toes to make sure she doesn’t suddenly disappear off on another random adventure. Next time, she might end up with more than just a torn rotator cuff.
She pours us each a cup of tea, and I take a sip. The subtle lemon flavor is quite soothing.
“So, have you spoken to Aunt Sharon since you left the rehab center?” I ask.
“Pfft. My daughter is the world’s biggest worrywart. I told her I was completely fine once I returned to Australia, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“I guess she’s just watching out for you.”
“I’m not an invalid. Besides, I have plenty of friends nearby who I can call on in an emergency. I’ve been on my own for over forty years, and I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”
“I believe it,” I say, smiling.
She glances at the clock on the wall. “It’s not really two-fifteen, is it?”
I nod.
“Goodness. That’s late, even for me. I’m sorry to have woken you. The sun comes up early at this time of year, so you should probably try and get a few more hours’ sleep.”
My brain is still a little slow, but I’m not sure how easily I’ll be able to drift off again. Grandma stands up and picks up her mug. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower.”
“Of course. Do you need any help?”
“No, no. You go and relax.”
I watch her leave and shake my head. This situation isn’t at all what I expected.
❅ ❅ ❅
After tossing and turning for an hour, I finally fall back to sleep, but it only seems like moments before I feel something warm and wet on my face. My eyes snap open, and I scream, which startles the creature sprawled all over me into backing away with a surprised bark.
I am terrified of dogs. When I was much younger, I was at the park with my parents, and a big German shepherd bounded up and knocked me over. I’m sure it only wanted to play, but at the time, I thought I was being attacked. My parents got into an argument with the owner, who shouldn’t have had it off its leash, and it escalated so much that my dad almost got into a fist-fight with the guy.
Ever since, I can’t stand being around any dog bigger than a toy poodle.
Suddenly, I’m aware of another presence in the room, and it’s not my grandmother. A man is standing in the doorway, but my brain is so frozen in fear from the dog, I barely register what he looks like or why he’s in my bedroom. And then I realize I’m practically naked. I scoot up to the head of the bed, screaming again and pulling the sheet with me.
“Jeez, what are you doing scaring Gus like that?” he says.
I snort. “I’m scaring him? He’s the one attacking me while I sleep!”
He roars with laughter. “Gus is not attacking you. He’s just saying hello.”
“Well, I’d appreciate it if he didn’t come into my room while I’m sleeping,” I say primly. “And that goes for random strangers, too.”
He doesn’t seem put off by my tone and walks over to the bed, holding out his hand. “I’m not a random stranger. I live next door. And my name’s Xavier, but you can call me Xave.”
CHAPTER 5
With my right hand taking its job of holding the sheet against my bare chest more seriously than had it belonged to a surgeon who was removing part of a patient’s brain, I extend my left to meet his. Which, of course, won’t work because our palms are facing the same way.
Congratulations on making an awkward situation even worse, Hannah!
Xave snickers, balling his hand into a fist. I give him a tepid fist bump. “I’m Hannah, granddaughter of the homeowner.”
“Ah! You’re the American they’re foisting on her to be her nanny. Good luck taking care of Sheila. None of us can keep up with her.” He drags a wooden chair from the desk to the side of my bed. Dropping into it, he says, “Gus, down.”
Gus turns his head toward Xave, panting a happy, defiant grin, and then takes his nose on a tour of the room.
My eye
s adjust to the morning light creeping into the room between the curtains. This is clearly not a child’s room, preserved by a sentimental parent after the child left home. If the outfit my grandmother wore last night could be shaken out and stretched into bedding, wall coverings, and carpet, this would be the result. A mishmash of batik, tie-dye, and velvet fabrics compete for attention with each other. Multiple statues—some with blatantly oversized bits of anatomy I’d rather not scrutinize when only a sheet prevents a strange man from seeing certain bits of my anatomy—make themselves at home on the shelves and the desk.
Speaking of settling in, why is Xave sitting by my feet, wearing a happy, defiant grin like his dog’s? “You haven’t explained why you’re here in my room and acting like you have no intention of leaving. And while it’s not my business, I’d suggest working on obedience training with your mutt. I don’t appreciate him—” Gus is taking way too much interest in the pile of clothing I discarded yesterday. “Shoo!” He streaks out of the room, his tail between his legs. I spot a flash of white in his mouth. “He stole my bra!”
Xave’s laugh forces his chair onto its back legs. I hope he falls! But wait: since I’m here to care for my injured grandmother, would he take advantage of my presence to help him in the event he hurt himself?
I have to admit that a small part of me doesn’t see the downside of such a predicament. Perhaps I’m guilty of stereotyping, but honestly, if you asked me to describe an Australian surfer, I’d imagine, well, Xave. Whether he used actual salt water or hair product to sculpt his dirty-blond curls into windswept perfection, I cannot say. Sun-kissed patches of pale pink highlight the apples of his cheeks on an otherwise tan face. His grin is more wholesome than cocky, despite his obvious enjoyment of making me uncomfortable.
His fingers wrap around his bicep, whose muscly bulk strains against the cuff of his T-shirt. “Do you want me to retrieve your, um, article of clothing for you?” he asks.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather do it myself.”
“You sure? I get the feeling you’re not a dog person.”
“I don’t see an alternative.”
Hold on. Why should I bother retrieving my bra from the dog? I’m not putting that drooled-upon garment on my body.
Xave inserts two fingers into his mouth, emitting an eardrum-tearing whistle. The shaggy thief bounds into the room, displaying the spoils he pilfered. Xave’s hands fidget as he fights the urge to play tug-of-war with him. “Gus will require the promise of a reward before he relinquishes his prize. I’ll go rummage around the kitchen for something.” He rises from his chair.
“Please close the door behind you. I want to claim the rest of my clothes before Gus does.”
His grin exposes his blindingly white teeth. “This just got interesting.” He scratches his scalp. “How should I reward him for stealing them?”
I point to the door. “You’ll both be in the doghouse. No treats for either of you. Now, out!”
Gus follows him through the door, and Xave pulls the door closed, chuckling to himself. I hear the banging of the cabinets and the refrigerator door in the kitchen. I hope my grandmother is either an early riser or a very sound sleeper.
I rush to cover my body with the same clothing I’ve been wearing the past two days, wishing I had thought to bring my bags inside yesterday. My toothbrush and I have a lot of catching up to do.
Xave knocks on the door a minute later. I open it, and he hands me a hunk of cheese. “Behold! The magical cheese.”
Gus weaves around my legs. I hold the cheese above my head. “Should I give it to him and hope he drops my garment?”
“No. He’ll try to take both. Make him work for it. Start by telling him to sit.”
I lean over the dog. “Gus, sit.” He obeys, my bra still dangling from his snout. “Good boy!”
Xave gives me a thumbs-up. “He likes you! Now tell him to drop it.”
“Gus, please drop it.” My voice falters when I observe the size of his teeth.
“A sweet tone and the word please will get you nowhere with a dog who’s misbehaving. You’re the boss. Be firm and confident. Pretend you’re kicking a man out of your room because he teased you.”
“Oh, Gus! I have a lovely hunk of cheese, but you’re not getting it unless you DROP IT!!!” The bra falls from his fangs. I stomp on it to lay claim to it. He slobbers at me. Right. The cheese. “Here you go.” I don’t want him taking it from my hand. Again, he has some serious teeth. I throw the cheese toward the door, and he lumbers after it.
Xave shrugs. “Not bad. You could stand a little more training, though.”
“I could stand a little more training? How about your dog? Where I come from, dogs don’t steal people’s clothes. And you still need to explain to me why the two of you entered my room uninvited.”
“Go easy on the poor guy. He’s had a hard life. Three months ago, when I took him in, he wouldn’t let even me pat him. He had injuries around his neck I suspect were from a choke collar. I’m impressed with how quickly he took to you. He’s wary of nearly every person he meets.”
My shoulders collapse. “I’m sorry I judged him harshly.”
“You’re fine. He and I came to check in on Sheila, and he let himself into your room before I could grab him. I’m sorry we barged in on you and woke you. You must be exhausted from your flight.”
“Hopefully, I’ve slept through the worst of the jet lag. But I would love a strong cup of coffee.”
“I’ll make you one. And we should check on your grandmother.”
“You make the coffee while I wake her.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I pad toward the door at the end of the hall. Rapping it with my knuckles, I whisper, “Grandma? It’s Hannah. Xave and I are making breakfast. Are you hungry?”
“I sure am.” Her voice doesn’t come from within the room. I freeze. My grandmother is standing behind me in the hallway. “I worked up an appetite helping a neighbor pull weeds from his garden this morning.”
“Doesn’t your shoulder hurt?”
“Nothing hurts. They gave me grade A pharmaceuticals at the hospital. Want to try them?”
“Grandma!”
She puts a hand on her hip. “Don’t tell me you inherited the uptight Stein genes instead of mine. I’ll loosen you up before we ship you back to the States. Meanwhile, you can do me a favor. I haven’t found a way to put on the backings to my earrings one-handed. My earrings keep slipping out before I can fasten them.” She swipes at the dangling collection of colorful stones dripping from her left earlobe. Her earring falls to the floor. “See what I mean? The backings are on my dresser. Would you get them for me?”
I enter her room to retrieve the backings. The all-white bedding and furniture could not be more unlike the woman waiting for me in the hallway. Despite the palette, the room is not sterile. The effect is calming and somewhat romantic.
My stomach tightens. While I’m supposed to be snooping on my grandmother, doing it makes my insides churn. I return to the hall and slide the backings onto the posts of her earrings.
“Thank you, dear. Now we have to get some food in you.”
For the first time since leaving Michigan, I shiver with a sense of home. Not that I need two grandmothers intent on turning me into an overweight elephant, but still.
“I’m definitely hungry.”
“You’ll need a hearty breakfast. I usually help Xave feed the animals in his shelter, but I’m afraid I’ll be no good to him. And when you’re done, you can drive me to my physio appointment. I hope they assign me a handsome young fellow. If I’m going to have someone poking and prodding me three days a week for the next three months, he’d better be someone I want to poke and prod, too.”
“Grandma!” I sound like a parrot with a single word in its vocabulary, but she keeps shocking me speechless.
She clucks her tongue. “No drugs. No sex. What do you do for fun?”
I suddenly realize that handing chunks of ch
eese to a fierce dog and hiding my chest from a strange man are the least intimidating parts of my day. Living with Grandma will be tough. But having to decide whether she is mentally fit to live alone, which might mean I need to stay past the end of the year? I am so not up for the task.
CHAPTER 6
Xavier proves to be extremely proficient in the kitchen. I intended to offer my assistance making food and drinks, but as soon as he sees me, he points to the dining table.
“Sit.”
Trying not to feel like Gus, I obey. Xavier slides a cup of something in front of me. Grandma comes over and sits down too. Xavier also hands her a cup.
“This boy is the best coffee maker on the Coast,” she says, sipping her drink and sighing happily.
I lift the mug to my lips, and I have to agree. I’m used to my coffee being either black or with a dash of cream. This is more like a Starbucks latte, only better.
“He’s not a bad cook either,” Grandma adds, nodding at the stove.
“What are you making?” I ask him.
“Smashed avo on toast with poached eggs and tomatoes.”
“Avo as in avocado?” I check.
He nods and then carries over two plates piled high with food. He brings a third for himself, along with some salt, pepper, and lemon wedges, and sits down with us. He immediately cuts a huge chunk of toast smeared with avocado and shoves it in his mouth.
I try to be a little less caveman-like, but as soon as I taste the tomatoes, my eyeballs roll back in my head. They are so good.
Grandma turns to Xavier. “Until I’m fully recovered, Hannah should help you out at the shelter. After breakfast, you can go and get her acquainted with everyone.”
“Uh, I’m not sure I’m the right candidate for the job,” I say doubtfully. Not only am I afraid of dogs, I’m also not great with other large animals, including horses, sheep, goats, and cows. And don’t even get me started on llamas. “I mean, I want to help out while I’m here, but I’d probably be more of a hindrance when it comes to animals.”
A Christmas Rescue Page 3
