Love - From His Point Of View!: Meeting at Midnight

I started across the room. Contrary to my family’s fondly held opinion, I know my limits. I’d lost a lot of blood, which meant I was going to be weak, sometimes dizzy. Combine that with a knee not inclined to take much weight, a shoulder that kept me from using crutches and a body that was stiff and sore everywhere but my left big toe, and falling was a real possibility. Especially with that fool puppy running circles around my feet.

I took it slow and careful. I wanted to make a point. I also wanted coffee and conversation, maybe some answers. I limped into the dining room, frowning.

In any contest between memory and logic, logic ought to win. Women don’t glow. I knew that. I’d been in bad shape when Seely found me, my perceptions skewed by a system on the verge of shutting down. I couldn’t trust my memory.

Yet that one memory bead remained so clear…the curves of her face as she smiled at me, the tilt of her eyes, the way her breath had puffed out, ghostly in the cold air. And the gentle luminescence of her skin, like moonlight on snow. Not at all like a flashlight. Just as clearly I remember the warmth, a heat that had sunk itself into me instead of sitting around on the surface.

I had questions, and I couldn’t let them go.

I managed to avoid tripping over Doofus as I left the bathroom, but had to pause in the doorway to the kitchen, one hand on the jamb to steady myself. The sling supported my shoulder, so it wasn’t hurting too much. Unlike my knee.

Seely was wiping down the counter, humming along with the radio. She wore jeans and a blue sweater today, and her denim-clad hips were swaying to the music in a cute little be-bop that yanked my attention away from my sore knee.

Then I noticed what was playing on the radio: Kenny Chesney singing “How forever feels.” The song Gwen and I had danced to five years ago, on the night we’d ended up in bed together.

The night before I left her.

All the fizz drained out of the day. I took a deep breath and limped on into the room. Doofus yelped happily, announcing our arrival.

Seely spun around, her eyes wide. “How do you do that?”

“What?” Doofus had found his water dish and was thrilled by the discovery, lapping away as if he’d been in the desert for days. I’d have to put him out soon. Or ask Seely to, dammit. I didn’t like depending on others for every little thing.

“Sneak up on me when you can barely walk,” she said.

“No shoes.” I decided to rest a bit before making for the oak table in the center of the room. “I came out for a cup of coffee.”

“I would have brought you coffee. That’s what that little bell by your bed is for.”

“I didn’t want to drink it in bed. Besides, I thought it would help if you could see that I’m able to move around some now.”

“Help what?”

“I don’t want to sleep all day today.”

One of her eyebrows lifted. The woman had the most talkative eyebrows I’d ever seen. “Okay. You thought I needed to be notified of this?”

Yesterday I’d dozed off every time she checked on me. That had to be coincidence…didn’t it? “We have a deal. I do what you say, within reason. I wanted to show you that it wouldn’t be reasonable to keep me in bed all day.”

Her mouth kicked up on one side. “Well, since you’re already here, you may as well sit down and have that coffee. No, wait—I’d rather you didn’t go splat on the floor. Let me get on your good side first.”

I didn’t have much choice. She reached me before I’d taken more than a couple of halting steps and slid an arm around my waist. The warm strength of her body felt good. “How can you move so fast without seeming to hurry?”

“Long legs. It helps when my target is crippled and can’t escape.”

My mouth twitched. The top of her head was only a few inches below mine. If I’d turned my head, it would have tickled my nose. Her hair smelled nice—a green smell, like herbs.

We made for the table at a half lurch, and I had to admit it was easier with her help. More pleasant, too. My body started entertaining ideas I could have sworn it wasn’t ready to consider yet. I sure couldn’t do anything about those ideas, even if I’d been free to.

Which I wasn’t. She was an employee, off-limits.

We reached the table. I spoke abruptly. “The first time I saw you, you were glowing.”

“Amazing the sort of thing a mind in shock can conjure, isn’t it?”

“Is that what it was?”

She let me go as I lowered myself carefully into a chair, then looked me square in the eye. Her eyebrows were expressing skepticism. “I don’t know. Do you often see people glow when you aren’t in shock?”

“Hardly ever.” Common wisdom holds that people won’t look you in the eye if they’re lying. This is stupid. Since everyone knows this, someone who intends to lie to you will be sure to meet your eyes. I guess people who expect liars to look shifty haven’t been around teenagers much. “That E.R. doctor was sure baffled by my shoulder.”

She laughed and headed for the coffeepot. “The one you kept calling an idiot?”

“Yeah. Harry Meckle. I knew him in school.” Was she dodging the subject? Or was I being given a chance to avoid looking like a fool? I drummed my fingers on the table. “I want you to tell Gwen it’s okay for Zach to come over after school today.”

“Uh-uh.” She set a steaming mug in front of me. The multicolored stones in her bracelet glittered.

“Do you wear that all the time?”

“Hmm? Oh.” She sat down, keeping another mug for herself. “The bracelet. Yes, pretty much.”

“So why won’t you talk to Gwen for me?”

“I never step between dueling exes.”

“Gwen and I aren’t dueling. We aren’t even exes. We were never married.” I held myself ready for the questions that were sure to come. People were invariably nosy about me, Gwen, Zach and Duncan.

Seely shrugged. “So? You’re obviously ex-somethings.”

I’d never thought of it that way. For some reason the notion settled me, as if some little wandering piece had finally found its spot. I took a sip of coffee. “This is good.”

“Thanks.”

“The thing is, Zach has had enough uncertainty in his life. I think it will be good for him to see that, yeah, I’m banged up but I’m basically okay.”

“I won’t argue with that, but can’t you just tell Gwen yourself?”

I grimaced. “My family has some funny ideas. They think I don’t know my own limitations.”

She sipped her coffee, her eyes laughing at me over the rim. “Maybe you’ve given them some teensie-weensie reason to think that?”

“No.” I was certain about that. “Couldn’t have. I’ve never been really hurt before. A few stitches here and there, yeah, but nothing they kept me for overnight. Never been in any kind of auto accident.”

“Never? Not even a fender-bender?”

I shook my head and thought sadly about my truck.

“I imagine you scared them, then. They probably don’t realize it, but deep down I’ll bet they think you’re invulnerable.”

“They’re annoying sometimes, but they aren’t stupid.”

“Feelings don’t always follow logic, do they? They probably needed you to be invulnerable when they were younger. You were all they had.”

I scowled. “Who told you that?”

“Oh, it came up in different ways. While you were napping yesterday, you had visitors. Manny Holstedder—I gather he works for you?—and two of your neighbors, and of course Duncan. And phone calls. I made a list you can look at later, but I do recall that your sister Annie called, and another brother. Charlie, I think? And Edie Snelling called twice.” She put just enough lift at the end of that to make it almost a question.

“A friend of Gwen’s,” I muttered. There are worse things than an ex-lover who’s determined to fix you up. Falling off a mountain, for example. But dammit, I wished Gwen would quit trying to slide women under my door.

“Mmm. Anyway, your friends, family and neighbors all wanted me to know I was taking care of someone special. You’re something of a hero, you know.”

“Oh, for God’s sake—”

“No, really. They all think you’re pretty grand. Several of them told me about the way you took over raising your sister and brothers after your folks were killed.”

Mortified, I nearly burned my tongue on the coffee. I set the mug down and cleared my throat. “To get back to the subject—I thought you could assure Gwen that I’m up to having Zach come over. That is…I never asked. Are you okay with having a five-year-old around?”

“Sure. I like kids.”

“I guess you don’t have any of your own. You said you weren’t a nester.”

She tipped her head to one side. Her curls were semitamed today, caught back in a stretchy blue thing at her nape. A few strands had wiggled free. “Are you really curious, or just paying me back for having learned so much about you when you were helpless?”

That surprised a chuckle out of me.

Oddly, she shivered. It was a delicate little thing, but I caught it. “Are you cold? We can turn up the heat.”

“No,” she said absently, rubbing her left palm as if it itched. “You do have a deep voice, don’t you? It sounds as if it’s rolling up from the bottom of a well. Oh, look—Doofus is actually at the door, asking to go out. I’d better reward that.”

She liked the sound of my voice. That’s what that little shiver had meant. I enjoyed that notion about as much as I did watching her as she ambled for the back door. The way those long legs carried her along put a nice little sway in her hips. Those legs…

She opened the back door and Doofus scampered out. “How did you pick Doofus?”

“The name or the dog?”

“Both, I guess. A bit of unique, isn’t he?”

“That’s one way to put it. No, leave the door open. He panics if you close it, then forgets what he went outside to do.” A man could die happy with those legs wrapped around him—whoa. A little sexual buzz was okay, but I couldn’t let myself get carried away. “I got him from the pound for Zach’s fifth birthday. The vet says he’s a basset mix, emphasis on the mix.”

She glanced out the door. “The ears do look have the look of a basset hound. Zach comes over to play with him fairly often, I take it?”

“Two or three days a week. A neighbor’s teenage daughter walks him here from the school when the weather is decent. Sometimes to Mrs. Bradshaw’s, if I can’t be home at that hour.”

“That’s your neighbor, right? She stopped by yesterday to see how you were doing.”

“She keeps kids.” That still didn’t sit too well with me. I didn’t want Zach raised by anyone other than family. But Mrs. Bradshaw was a good woman, and he liked it there. As Gwen often pointed out, at Mrs. Bradshaw’s he had other kids to play with, most notably a set of twins. “You never did answer my question.”

“Your…oh. About children.” Doofus scampered back in, the whole back half of his body wagging with delight over his performance. She shut the door and knelt to praise and pat. “Nope, no kids of my own. No stepchildren, nieces or nephews, either. I’ve never been married, and I was an only child.”

So was Gwen. Putting the two women together in my mind made me uncomfortable. I shifted, stretching out my bad leg. “I guess that would be lonely, being an only child.”

“I had my fantasies about having a brother or sister when I was growing up. But a lot of people from big families fantasize about being an only, I think. Didn’t you?”

“No more than four or five times a day. Especially when Charlie and Annie were teenagers. Not that Annie got into any real trouble, but she was a girl. There’s so much stuff about being a girl at that age…” I shook my head. “I wanted to lock her up or send her to a convent. Raising girls is scary.”

“She’s quite a bit younger than you, I gather.”

“Eleven years, yeah. She’s the youngest.” I hadn’t done right by Annie. For years she’d had a kind of phobia about leaving Highpoint, and I hadn’t even realized it—probably because I’d liked having her around too much to question why she’d moved back home and stayed. Jack had known, though. He’d married her and taken her off to see the world, one dirtpoor village at a time. And she loved it. I frowned at my coffee cup.

“More coffee?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks. Ah…jeans probably won’t work with this stupid knee. There ought to be a pair of sweats in the bottom left drawer of my dresser, though. If you’d get them, I can have my shower in the downstairs bathroom, then get dressed.”

“You are not—” she started, then stopped, shaking her head. “Who’d have thought you’d be so devious?”

I scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m supposed to fuss at you, remind you of what the doctor said, et cetera. In the end, you’ll give up on the shower, and I’m supposed to concede that you can get dressed. Which is what you really want.”

“Are you sure you don’t have brothers?”

She chuckled. “Nary a one.”

Yet she obviously knew men. Well, she’d probably had plenty of opportunity to observe my half of the species. That showgirl’s body would get any man’s attention. Then he’d get hooked by that slow smile, or the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, laughing all by themselves. “You aren’t giving me a hard time about getting dressed,” I observed.

“Not much point. I knew you’d be champing at the bit today. You do realize I’ll have to help you, don’t you?”

“Like hell you will.”

She just looked at me. For once, even her eyebrows didn’t comment.

At last I sighed. “The shirt. I’ll need help with that. And the sling.”

“I could give you a sponge bath first.”

A visceral flash hit me—her hands running a warm, soapy washcloth along my arm to my shoulder, then down my chest…she’d be bending over me, bringing those magnificent breasts close enough to…“No, you can’t.”

Like I said, I know my limits.

Four

I couldn’t reach my left foot. I glared at my knee, washcloth in hand.

I was sitting on the toilet with the lid down. I’d managed a spit bath of sorts, pulled on my shorts and sweatpants…and one sock. I couldn’t get my left sock on. And I couldn’t wash my own damned foot.

Everything throbbed—head, shoulder, knee. My feet were cold. I was going to have to ask for help.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” I growled.

“Thought you might be ready for a cup of coffee,” Seely said through the door. “And an extra hand. As I recall, I had the devil of a time with shoes and socks when my wrist was broken.”

I sighed. “It’s unlocked. How did you break your wrist?”

The door swung open. “I wasn’t a very coordinated child. Fell from the monkey bars when I was seven. Daisy had to do everything for me at first, which sorely offended my dignity. Here.” She held out a tall walking stick. “Duncan dug this up in the attic yesterday. He thought you might be able to use it.”

I put down the washcloth and took the stick. It was made of walnut, a dark, burled wood that felt smooth and cool to my fingers. “How about that.” I smiled, bemused. “I’d forgotten all about this thing. Funny. I must have seen my father use it a hundred times, but the one time that floated into my head just now…”

“Yes?” She set the mug on the tiny bit of counter next to the sink.

“We were in Crete. Me and my dad, that is. Annie was only a month old, so my mom wasn’t able to go with my dad that year.” I leaned the stick against the wall. There wasn’t really room for it in this little scrap of a bathroom, but it made me feel good to have it near. “We’d climbed this little rise overlooking the dig, and he was using his stick to point out a city that didn’t exist anymore. All I saw was this reddish maze of crumbling walls in the section that had been excavated. He saw so much more—the granary, the wide, dusty street leading to the temple. Maybe even the people on that street.”

“He had vision. It sounds like a good memory.”

“Yeah.” I thought about how excited I’d been to go with him. How hard I’d tried to see what he did…and failed. “It was the first time I’d gone with him. I guess that’s why that memory sticks out.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven. It was summer, of course. I remember—hey!”

She’d knelt and was reaching for my foot. “Must have been hot.”

“Blazing. You don’t have to do that.” I tried to retrieve my foot without creating a tug-of-war.

“Quit that or I’ll tickle you.” She ran the washcloth over my sole. “I’ll admit I’m not a real nurse, but I’m pretty sure this sort of thing is part of the job.”

I scowled. This was every bit as embarrassing as I’d thought it would be. “No, you’re a paramedic. So why aren’t you working as one?”

“Because I couldn’t hack it.” She grabbed the towel. “So why is your brother married to your son’s mother instead of you?”

Sucker-punched. I hadn’t seen that one coming, and for a second couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She dried my foot carefully, giving me the top of her head to look at instead of her face. Even with her hair pulled back, her hair was all crinkly, like a shallow stream wiggling over rocks.

Or like Doofus wiggling all over even when he was trying to stand still. I sighed. I felt as if I’d just kicked a puppy—and gotten bitten for it. “Don’t apologize. I asked for it. I jabbed at you because I don’t like needing help for every little thing. Can’t complain if you jab back.”

“Okay. Hand me your socks, will you?”

I did, and she pulled a sock on my left foot. It felt weird to sit there while she did that. “I’m surprised none of the busybodies you talked to yesterday filled you in about me and Gwen.”

Seely looked up then, her face all smoothed out. “I really am sorry. I’m not usually such a bitch.”

That annoyed me. “You’re not a bitch at all.”

“I can be, when my temper’s up.”

“I have a temper, too, but no one calls me a bitch.”

She laughed. “I have a feeling no one calls you anything but ‘sir’ when you’re mad.”

“You haven’t been around my family.” I liked that I’d made her laugh. It was a good sound.

“You’re obviously close.” She tossed the washcloth in the sink. “Um…Gwen did say that you’d only known Zach for a few months. She said that was her fault.”

“It was my fault as much as hers.” I didn’t like talking about it…but I didn’t like her thinking I was the kind of bastard who’d ignore his son, either. “I didn’t know about Zach’s existence until last March. Gwen and I met when I was on vacation a few years ago. It didn’t work out—at least, I decided it wouldn’t work out. She has money, you see. Family money. A lot of it. I didn’t deal with that well when I found out. She, uh, threw away my address when I left, so by the time she realized she was pregnant, she didn’t know how to find me.”

“How did you learn about Zach, then?”

“She hired a detective. That was after she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer.” I added firmly, so she’d know the subject was closed, “She’s okay now. Anyway, she brought Zach here for a visit, and while Zach and I were getting acquainted, she and Duncan fell for each other.”

They’d fought it. In hindsight I could see that it must have been hell for both of them. They’d known I’d wanted to marry Gwen, and Duncan at least had accepted that I had a prior claim. But at the time I hadn’t been able to see anything except how betrayed I’d felt when I found out, how thoroughly my dreams had been destroyed.

Seely rested her hand on my knee. “I’m glad you told me. If Zach is going to be here often, I wouldn’t want to say or do the wrong thing.”

That was a good reason for having shot off my mouth. Not the real reason, maybe, but while we were on the subject…. “You should probably know something else. If Zach starts talking about the bad man and the policeman who shot him—well, that really happened. Maybe someone filled you in on that?”

They hadn’t. Useless bunch of busybodies. Why hadn’t they told her the stuff that mattered, so I wouldn’t have to? I didn’t like thinking about that night. The strobing red of the cop car lights, the hard white light inside the store, where a crazy bastard had held Gwen and my son at gunpoint…the fear, raw and jagged like a gutful of broken glass.

I’d failed them. No matter how often I told myself there was nothing I could have done to protect them, the bitterness of my failure didn’t go away.

But Seely would need to know the basics, so I told her about the holdup of a convenience store last April, and how Gwen and Zach had been among the hostages taken by a not-too-bright gunman. And how Duncan had saved them.

“My God, Ben. You said something about Zach having had a lot of uncertainty in his life, but I never imagined anything like this.”

“He seems to be doing okay. Gwen took him to this guy who does play therapy. That’s where kids tell their stories with toys,” I explained, “and the therapist sort of plays with them, only in a way that helps them work through things.”

“What about you?”

“I wasn’t part of it.”

“That’s what I mean. There’s nothing worse than being helpless when someone you love is hurting or in danger.”

Uncomfortable, I said, “I don’t usually blather on so much. I just thought you ought to know.”

She chuckled. “You call that blathering? I don’t think anything you said even qualifies as a secret. And I do know a few. It’s amazing what people will say to a paramedic. I suppose doctors and nurses experience that, too.”

Was that why I felt like there was something between us—because she’d saved my life? Turning the idea over in my mind, I decided it made sense.

She stood. “Seems to me you could use some play therapy yourself, but for now we’ll settle for getting you dressed. C’mon, up with you. I’ll take that sling off.”

The moment I stood, the room shrank. Seely was standing very close, and the soft herbal scent of her hair seemed stronger. I pretended I didn’t notice. “I can get this strap in front.”

“Okay. Turn a bit…there.” The sling came loose, and she slipped it off. “Of course, I don’t know half the secrets Daisy does. If you ever met her, you’d find yourself telling her your life story in no time. People do.”

My shoulder ached more without the sling’s support, so I supported that arm with my other hand. “Who’s Daisy? A friend?”

“That, yes. Also my mother.”

“You call your mother by her first name?”

“Sure. Can you get those buttons, or do you need some help?”

I thought about letting her unbutton my pajama shirt. Her knuckles would brush against my skin…better to let my right arm dangle and fumble the buttons out left-handed. “I can do it. You did say your mother was unusual.”

She chuckled again. A man could get hooked on that sound. “Unusual, yes. She used to be a flower child. The real thing, Haight-Ashbury and all that. In some ways she still is, though she’s doing pretty well as an artist these days. I tease her that she’s lost in the sixties. Here, we’ll do the difficult arm first.”

She eased the pajama shirt off my shoulder. It fit snugly over the bandages, so she had to take her time. It was ridiculous to get turned on by that, under the circumstances. But it was a good thing the sweatpants were baggy. “An artist, huh? What kind?”

“Sculpture. She’s into what she calls found art these days. Some people call it junk—” her grin flashed “—but she’s had two showings at a prestigious gallery in Taos. She scavenges for things people throw away, then paints this or that, puts the objects together and ends up with some pretty interesting pieces.”

“Real modern stuff, I take it.”

“Well, one critic called it ‘an entrancing collision between the primitive and the twenty-first century,’ but yes. I have a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be your type of art.” She tossed the pajama shirt on the back of the toilet, then picked up the flannel shirt she’d brought down earlier.

“What about your father? What does he do?”

“Who knows? He came down with a bad case of respectability a few years after I was born. Poor man. I don’t think he ever recovered. Here, hold out your arm.”