Chapter Eleven
Walking into the lobby of Golden Acres with Xander by her side, Sophie felt anxious rather than the usual sense of calm that washed over her, but she was doing her best not to let it show. The bright, airy space was empty of any residents; not totally a rare occurrence, but unsettling with her already frayed nerves. The familiar warm greeting of “Cupcake girl!” from the residents would have been soothing.
What am I doing bringing him here?
When they entered, a man with dark hair glanced up from where he sat in one of the chairs with a clipboard balanced on his crossed knee, filling out paperwork. Her nerves flared back to life. He looked familiar, like she’d seen him recently, but couldn’t place—
“Sophie, hi!”
The exuberant greeting pulled her focus to where Sophie’s favorite nurse stood at the front desk. Oh, thank God. “Morning, Stephanie,” she said with a smile as she placed one of the two boxes they’d brought on the counter. Although she was best known for her cake truffles, the residents here preferred the cupcakes, so she always brought a box of each.
“What are you doing here two days in a row? Never mind, it doesn’t matter as long as you brought treats,” the young woman said, pulling the box toward her and inhaling the scent of her impending sugar high. “I swear you make these with magic.”
“I will not confirm or deny. It’s a Caldwell secret.” Sophie tried to smile through her nerves, but it wasn’t easy when her body wanted to purge her breakfast croissant.
Stephanie narrowed her eyes and bounced her gaze between Sophie and Xander. She might be young, but her power of observation made her a damn good nurse. She immediately recognized when something was off with one of the residents. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Not a thing,” she answered in a guilty rush. She really needed to get better at this hiding shit game. Stephanie looked like she believed her as much as if Sophie had said aliens had abducted her during the night.
“You are a little bit jumpy, babe. Must be because you didn’t sleep well last night.”
Xander’s low voice coming from behind her and his strong hands rubbing up and down on her arms both unnerved and settled her. How that was possible she didn’t know, nor did she have the brainpower to analyze it that very moment.
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re probably right. I’ll take a nap when we get home.”
Stephanie eyeballed Xander. “Who’s your friend, Sophie?”
He stepped forward and held his right hand out. “Husband, actually. How do you do? Name’s Xander.”
Sophie wished she had her camera phone out because Stephanie’s expression was priceless. She gave her what she hoped looked like a woman-in-love smile and said, “Surprise.”
Xander wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. His warmth, and the strength he emanated, started to ease her little by little. They really hadn’t been anywhere that they had to act like newlyweds in front of people they knew. And they couldn’t tell anyone the truth because if someone from Richard’s side of the case decided to do a little investigating, people needed to believe it was for real.
“I didn’t want to jinx it by telling anyone about him until I knew he couldn’t get away,” Sophie said.
“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from you, sweetheart. You know that.” Xander kissed her temple with a tenderness that made Sophie’s knees weak and her heart long for what would never be.
“Congratulations, lady! Get over here for a hug.” Stephanie quickly rounded the counter and embraced Sophie. “I’m so happy for you. I thought you were never going to get over that other jerkface, Jared.”
The hand at Sophie’s waist flexed, causing her to stifle a gasp when Xander’s fingers pressed into her side.
“Is Grams up and about, Stephanie?”
“You bet she is. Up and about and as feisty as always. Go on through, I’ll sign you both in.”
Sophie thanked her and walked with Xander, waving to a few of the residents as they caught sight of her. Not all of them had Alzheimer’s, and those who didn’t remembered exactly what came along with her visits.
“It’s the cupcake girl!” one of them shouted. Soon most of the residents in the common room had said hello to her or given her hugs before moving past her to where Stephanie was carefully doling out the cupcakes to avoid an all-out brawl. They’d learned that the hard way years ago on her first visit. There’d been a lot of orderlies called in and several shots of sleepy-time medicine before things were under control.
“Why don’t you try walking and getting in line like civil human beings,” a firm female voice shouted from the back. “You’re acting no better than a pack of mangy wolves!” Slowly, and with plenty of grumbling, the residents maneuvered themselves into a haphazard line.
“That’s better,” the woman said.
“Thanks, Grams,” Stephanie called out.
Grams. There she was, the same as always. Rocking in her favorite overstuffed armchair by the windows that looked out onto a vast patio and lawn area. Sophie’s stomach did a few flips and she had to take deep breaths through her nose as she crossed the room.
Never had she felt like this visiting her grandmother. These visits were emotionally taxing, yes, but in the way that a boat might bob up and down in choppy water. Happy to spend time with Grams…then sad for the future that her disease had stolen from them…happy…sad…up…down.
But these emotions were entirely different and felt more like trying to brave a hurricane on open water. Would Xander like Grams? How would Grams be with Xander? She had no idea how much Grams remembered of her visits. Sometimes she acted like she’d never seen Sophie before. Sometimes the miniature cakes would bring vague memories of her bringing in the treats before. But despite what she’d told Xander last night, Sophie had never brought anyone with her to visit Grams. Ever.
She hadn’t even planned on asking him. The idea came to her while she was mixing their last batch of frosting, and though she’d tried to swallow the words down, another part of her wanted to say them more. And that’s what had her completely stumped. Why? It’s not like it mattered if he met her grandmother. He wasn’t really Sophie’s husband other than on paper. Hell, if his career took off, who even knew if he’d be around at all in another few months.
So then why? Why did she feel she needed to bring Xander today? That was the million-dollar question that had plagued her all night. He’d only been making an excuse for her, but he wasn’t wrong when he told Stephanie that she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. She hadn’t. She’d tossed and turned and tried relaxing with yoga, then repeated the whole process several times before finally passing out at five in the morning.
“Hi, Grams,” she said, pulling a chair over. Grams, who’d been looking contentedly out the large picture window, turned to see Sophie holding another box she’d brought along.
“Cupcake girl.” Grams’s eyes lit up in her soft, wrinkled face. Sophie bent down to kiss her cheek, which her grandmother always graciously accepted whether she was “Cupcake girl” or a stranger that day. “How are you, dear?”
“I’m good, Grams. I brought you some truffles. They’re new recipes and I was hoping you’d test them out for me and tell me what you think.”
“Why don’t you introduce me to your gentleman friend first so we’re not being rude?”
Sophie shrunk under her grandmother’s gentle scolding expression of pursed lips and pointed stare. With that one look Sophie felt sixteen and in trouble all over again. “Sorry,” she said, stepping back. “Grams, I’d like you to meet…” My friend? My temporary lover? My husband whom I barely know because I’m doing something completely ridiculous that you wouldn’t approve of because I can’t stand the thought of losing our bakery?
“My name is Alexander James, Mrs. Caldwell,” Xander said, taking Grams’s delicate hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you. Sophie has told me so much about you.”
Sophie swore her heart whispered a thank-you that he must have heard because he gave her a discreet wink that told her not to worry; he had this. Dear God, what was this man doing to her?
“Oh, please, call me Marjorie,” Grams said with a pale pink blush rising across her cheeks. “It’s nice to meet a young man who knows how to act like a gentleman. Your accent…where are you from?”
“England, ma’am.”
Grams nodded as though he’d confirmed what she’d already suspected, which Sophie knew she hadn’t. She’d learned that a coping mechanism for Grams was to smile and nod, to pretend she knew exactly what was going on and who people were. She often used pet names to address people because she couldn’t remember their real names.
“And what brings you to America?” Grams continued.
Sophie tensed and cut Xander a look she hoped he understood that said “don’t tell her you’re a fighter.” Grams had always hated fighting. Whether it was in the streets or as a sanctioned sport. But Xander wasn’t paying attention to Sophie’s attempts at spontaneous telepathy.
Maybe she was worried for nothing. Who even knew if Grams remembered she hated fighting. It was so hard to know what the disease took from her and what it left her with.
“I’m here because of Sophie,” he said, glancing at her briefly before turning back to her grandmother. “She was in England on holiday and grabbing a pint at my local pub. My mates and I walked in and I stopped dead in my tracks the moment I saw her.”
Sophie’s breath caught in her chest as she swung her gaze to the man next to her. Was he…?
Grams’s hand fluttered up to her heart. Her eyes were rapt on Xander, listening to his story as if it was the most wonderful story she’d ever heard.
“Her gaze met mine from across the room, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It felt as if something was pulling us together.”
Oh my God, he is. Tears instantly welled in Sophie’s eyes but she did her best to dash them away. And even as she prayed he wouldn’t continue to put her through this emotional wringer, she silently prayed for him to continue his story.
“I walked over, asked her if she wanted to dance, and she said…”
“But there’s no music.” Grams gave Xander a watery smile. “Is that what she said?”
Xander’s smile was so big and brilliant as he inclined his head. “That she did, Marjorie.”
Something grabbed hold of Sophie’s heart and squeezed until her chest physically hurt. Emotions jammed her throat, making it hard to push words through. “Grams,” she finally managed. “How did you know that?”
Grams glanced to her lap, her brows drawn in concentration. Sophie held her breath, unwilling to take the chance even a wisp of air could sweep away the memory tickling her grandmother’s mind. After several torturous moments, Grams raised her head with a knowing twinkle in her eye, and Sophie thought she’d pass out.
“You must have told me, dear, on another visit. Is that right?”
Xander reached over and wrestled Sophie’s right hand open to place his against her palm and twine their fingers together. It was when he squeezed in support that she almost lost it. Trying to keep the tears from falling was futile, but she managed not to break down in a fit of hopeless sobs. Instead she pasted the very best smile on her face and said, “Yes, that’s right. I told you the story before.”
“I knew it,” she said proudly. “But I like the story, so I’d like you to finish, sweetie.”
Sweetie. Grams had already forgotten his name. Sophie had been stupid to let herself hope that Grams would remember anything, even the story she’d told at least a hundred times. She had to stop hoping for a different reality than what was.
“My pleasure, Marjorie. Where was I? Oh, right. She said, ‘But there’s no music,’ and I said, ‘Maybe none that my ears can hear, but my heart hears it just fine. Doesn’t yours?’ Then I pulled her into my arms and danced with her right there in the middle of the crowd with no music, and I haven’t let her go since.”
Grams stared wistfully at Xander and whispered, “Oh, that’s beautiful.”
“That it was, Marjorie. But even more beautiful is the young woman who stole my heart as soon as I laid eyes on her. She took my breath away and still does.” Xander turned his head and locked gazes with Sophie. “I’ve yet to find her equal, and I don’t believe I ever will.”
Grams sighed in dramatic satisfaction at the real-life fairy tale Xander had spun from his memory of their conversation weeks earlier. That he’d not only paid attention, but chose to use that as the story to explain him and Sophie, chipped away at that last piece of plaster she’d encased her heart in after her experience with Jared.
Oh God. She’d just fallen hopelessly in love with her husband.
…
Xander was so glad he’d come with Sophie to visit her grandmother. The woman was amazing, Alzheimer’s or no. They’d already been there for two hours chatting and playing a few rounds of Old Maid. Marjorie had a great sense of humor and had more than one male resident panting after her, and she took great joy in putting them off and berating them to put them in their places.
The beginning of the visit had been hard, especially for Sophie. He got the impression that her visits were typically not as emotional. Even that nice nurse they’d met in the front had kept a concerned eye in their direction for a while.
Xander knew it crushed Soph when Marjorie had seemed like she’d remember the story of how she met her husband and then didn’t. He’d wanted to scoop her up into his lap and hold her while she cried for as long as it took. But he’d had to settle for insisting she hold his hand. If she needed to let it out later, though, he’d make damn sure he was there for her.
Things picked up once the taste tasting started. As he’d already known would happen, Marjorie loved the healthier versions, though “nothing could ever replace the heavenly taste” of Sophie’s regular truffles. Little did the sweet woman know that she was in love with her own recipes.
“Aha! I win!”
Marjorie held her arms up in celebration. She was so fun to watch when she won that he and Sophie had been hiding the Old Maid from her, instead only passing it back and forth between themselves.
“Marjorie, love, I’m so thankful we’re not playing for money because I’m fairly certain you’d have cleaned me out by now.”
“Well, I’m a very lucky person. I’m Irish, you know, and we’re a very lucky people.”
“Oh, you’re Irish?” He’d meant it as a statement, but it sounded like a question with his accented cadence that was different than an American’s. Xander mentally cursed at himself, because the unsure look in Marjorie’s eyes wasn’t something he liked putting there.
“I think so.” She peered over at her granddaughter. “Do you know, honey, am I Irish?”
“Yes, you are, on your mother’s side,” Sophie answered with a wan smile.
Marjorie nodded and turned her attention back to him. “Yes, that’s right. On my mother’s side.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you so well, Marjorie. I, too, am Irish on my mum’s side. She’s only half, which makes me only a quarter, but Irish is Irish nonetheless.”
“That’s wonderful,” she beamed. “And what of your father?”
Xander felt a twinge of agitation at the mention of his father. They’d never seen eye to eye. The only fighting his father approved of was in the boardroom over contract negotiations. No wonder he preferred Xan’s brother, Max. “He’s as British as they come. Nothing but the finest pedigree for Maximillian James II.”
Marjorie sat back in her rocking recliner and clasped her hands over her thin waist. She studied him as though measuring his worth or trying to worm her way into his mind. It made him shift in his seat, which wasn’t like him at all. Xander James did not shift or squirm.
“If I had to guess, my dear boy, you and your father aren’t close, am I right?”
Xander felt Sophie’s eyes burning into the side of his face, but he didn’t take his off her grandmother. “Yes, Madame, you are correct.”
Her gaze softened, then she spoke matter-of-factly. “It’s because you’re too much like your mother.”
Marjorie couldn’t have shocked him more. “What? I mean,” he said, clearing his throat and trying to gather his wits about him. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s a common reason for parents to be at odds with their children. You see, as parents, our greatest pleasure is seeing our children inherit our characteristics and take interest in our interests. We’re inherently narcissistic that way. Some of us learn to let those feeling go and encourage our children to be individuals, whatever that may mean. And some of us can only focus on trying to make the children be younger versions of ourselves.”
“Yeah, well, my father falls into that latter category for sure. He succeeded with my older brother, but he could never quite make me conform to the James mold like he expected.”
“My sons are like that,” Marjorie said, causing Xander and Sophie both to snap up a little straighter in their chairs. “Of course, they’re only five and seven years old, but I can already see the vast difference between them. My older son, Jerry, is much like me. More of a carefree spirit, doesn’t often get upset over things.” Marjorie smiled with all the love in her heart. “He smiles easily and often, and he’s very protective of his little brother.”
The older woman braced her hands on the arms of her chair and adjusted her position slightly, as though she’d started getting stiff. “Now, Richard, on the other hand. He’s my baby and very much like his father and his father before him. And I say that because the old man—John’s father—was always a bit of a hothead and good at manipulating others around him to get his way. His wife was a meek little mouse who never said boo about anything. And John is a lot like his father in many ways.” Leaning forward, she held a finger up and pointed at herself. “But I’m no mouse, and he learned fast that I don’t put up with that baloney. He still has a short fuse, that’s just how he is, but he learned to temper it somewhat around me and especially now with the boys. Anyway, I think Richard is a lot like the old man, so I plan to keep an eye on him. Teach him to be more like a duck.”
Xander figured he missed something in translation. “A duck?”
Sophie’s voice came out raspy and soft. “Teach him how to let things roll of his back. Like water on a duck.”
Marjorie’s eyes lit up as she looked at Sophie. “Exactly,” she said. “Does your mother use that expression, too?”
Sophie shook her head, tears once again drowning her chocolate eyes. “No, my grandmother does.”
“Your grandmother must be a wise and great lady,” Marjorie said with an indulgent wink before settling back into the soft cushion of her chair, tipping her head back, and letting her eyes drift shut on a sigh.
“The greatest,” Sophie whispered. She studied her grandmother as she rocked back and forth the slightest bit, obviously taxed from their long visit.
He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, watching as Marjorie rocked herself into a peaceful nap, but eventually a right plump woman in nursing scrubs appeared and touched Sophie on the shoulder.
“It’s time for her medicine, Sophie, and she needs to go back to her room. I’m just waiting for Danny to be finished with Mr. Griffin.”
Xander watched Sophie tuck her emotions away and turn all business as she stood. “Yes, of course, Pat. I’m sorry I let her fall asleep out here. I should have walked her back when I saw her getting tired.”
The nurse gathered one of Sophie’s hands in hers and patted the top with motherly affection. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Danny can carry her easily enough.” Pat glanced around the room with a puzzled look. “Whenever he gets here, that is.”
“I’d be more than happy to help, Pat. I can carry Marjorie for you,” he said.
“Oh, aren’t you sweet,” she said, “but unfortunately that isn’t allowed. Liability reasons, you understand.”
At that moment, Marjorie chose to slowly pitch forward in her sleep. Xander reached out and gently pushed her back into the chair before she tumbled to the floor.
“Pat, it’s okay,” Sophie said. “Xander’s more than able to carry her, and since I’m giving him permission, you aren’t liable.”
Pat wrung her hands together for a few seconds then waved her worries away. “Okay, I suppose it’ll be fine this once.”
Xander gingerly scooped her up. She felt no heavier than a child and he easily carried her through the halls behind Pat until they at last reached the room. Once Marjorie was tucked in, Pat said she had to go get her medicines and left them to say their good-byes.
He grasped her hand lightly. Though she wasn’t someone with whom Xander had a lifetime of experiences and bonding, in only the few short hours he’d spent with Marjorie, he’d come to feel a strong fondness for her. Opening her sleepy eyes, Marjorie spoke in a voice so soft, the only reason he could hear her was the utter silence surrounding them. “Look at her,” she said with a slight nod in Sophie’s direction on the other side of the room.
Xander lifted his gaze to Sophie and immediately felt a tingling of goose flesh follow in the wake of fire licking at his nerves. It wasn’t a painful burning or even the sexual kind. This felt like coming in from a winter storm and stripping down to get warm by the roaring fire. It was comforting, reassuring… It was home.
The realization hit him square in the chest and his breath almost left his body from the force, regardless that it wasn’t a physical blow.
“You do love her,” Marjorie whispered on an exhale, settling more into her pillow. “That’s very good.”
Xander could only stare at the woman who’d just turned his world upside down with four little words. Did he love Sophie?
“You can always tell how a man truly feels by the way he looks at his girl,” she said to him. “She deserves the kind of soul-deep love that shines through a man’s eyes.”
He lifted his gaze to Sophie again and swallowed past the lump in his throat. His heart kicked up a quickening beat against his rib cage. “Sure she does, Marjorie.”
“I’m glad she has that with you. That’s good.”
Lifting her frail hand, he brushed a reverent kiss on it before securing it over the covers at her side. Xan hated that they weren’t being completely honest with her, but he hoped on some level he was reassuring Marjorie that he’d take care of her granddaughter for as long as it was his privilege to do so.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Marjorie. Get some rest, my dear, and I’ll see you soon.” He rounded the bed and paused next to Sophie, whispering, “I’ll be right outside.” She nodded and he left to stand in the hallway, a few feet from the door to give her some alone time with her grandmother. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to have the person you love most in the world not remember anything about you or the relationship you once shared with them. He’d be devastated if his mum ever forgot him.
Xan heard the fast clicking of Sophie’s heels a full two seconds before she emerged from the room. “Soph?” But she didn’t answer him, didn’t even glance in his direction as she passed him at a clipped pace.
“Whoa, there,” he said, gently grabbing her by the arm to turn her around. The tears he knew she’d been trying to hold back began to fall as soon as she raised her eyes to his, and it gutted him. Keeping hold of her arm, he lifted his other hand to the side of her neck and wiped away what he could with his thumb. “What’s the matter?”
She shook her head and clamped down on her lower lip so hard that he was concerned she’d break the skin. She was trying to hold everything in. His brave, strong Sophie. Always so worried to show any signs of weakness. He hurt for her; for what she must have gone through to make her believe that showing people her emotions was a sure bet to getting hurt.
Xander dipped his head and placed a tender kiss on her forehead, then whispered, “It’s okay. You can tell me. What happened after I left the room?”
She took so long to answer, he thought it was a lost cause. But at last she let him in. “I told her I’d see her soon, like I always do. She nodded and her eyes drifted closed. I stood there for a few minutes, just holding her hand and watching her sleep. Or at least, I thought she was sleeping.”
Oh dear God, no. He hoped like hell Sophie wasn’t going to say what it sounded like. Clenching his jaw until pain shot through his head, he waited for her to reveal the rest.
“I bent down and kissed her cheek,” she continued, “and told her I loved her, and she…” A fresh wall of tears streamed through her lower lashes and her chin trembled in spite of the control she’d held herself together with. Sophie gulped around the lump of emotions he knew had lodged in her throat. “She whispered, ‘Love you, too, sugarplum.’”
Xander held his breath and tried to ignore the roar of blood in his ears so he wouldn’t miss it if she said anything else. Although, what she had said was huge in and of itself. According to Sophie, her grandmother hadn’t called her by her childhood nickname in years. Though he didn’t know what it meant in a medical sense that she did so now, he knew that for Sophie it was a miraculous sign that the woman she loved was still in there and remembered her on some level.
When it appeared as though no bad news was to follow, he gathered her in his arms and let her weep into his shirt. He suspected the tears were both happy and sad, and possibly ran an entire gamut of other emotions as well.
Whatever they were, and no matter their reason, Xander wanted to be the one to soak them up for her. To give her his strength and comfort her as best he could.
He pictured another man holding her as he was and only realized his arms had involuntarily tightened when she let out a tiny squeak. Blast it, he didn’t know what to do with her, but giving her up no longer seemed possible. For the first time in his life, Xander didn’t cringe at the thought of ever after. And it felt pretty damn good.