chapter FORTY-EIGHT
March 15, 2016
Curtis ambled into the kitchen, drawn by the enticing aroma of fresh-baked something or other and coffee. It was the same smell he’d been roused by for the last … oh, forty-some-odd years or so.
“Mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted his wife, kissing her smooth cheek as he silently inhaled her sweet scent. She smelled better than the biscuits, no doubt about it. He’d been addicted to her scent since the very first day he’d met her—a lifetime ago—and he found he still couldn’t get enough of her. Last night, for instance…
Okay, so maybe now was not the time to think about last night and the sexy way his wife had been moving against him. Only because the light, flowery fragrance wasn’t the only thing he noticed about his beautiful wife this morning.
Taking a step back, he took a good long look at her, studying her face. “You okay? Your face is warm.”
Lorrie shook her head as she said, “I’m good.”
Her tone was a little less enthusiastic than he’d expected. Not that he thought his wife of fifty-two years was going to jump up and down because he’d made an appearance, but he had grown accustomed to her cheerful tone.
“Do you feel all right?” he probed, taking the cup of coffee she offered before moving toward the table.
Lorrie nodded. “Just a little sluggish.”
“Kidney again?” For the past year, Lorrie had been experiencing a series of kidney infections that had left the doctors baffled. And because they continued to treat them with antibiotics, the infection would clear up, then a couple of months later, it would return. No one seemed to know why.
“I don’t think so.” Lorrie turned to him and forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her pretty blue eyes. “Now quit worryin’ about me and eat your breakfast.”
Even forced, her smile was radiant—Lorrie had always had the brightest, most beguiling smile he’d ever seen, and she’d only gotten prettier over the years—even if there were lines near her eyes that reflected the pain she was in. The pain she was pretending not to be in. That was Lorrie, always looking out for everyone else, oftentimes at her own expense.
But Curtis knew his wife better than he knew himself. For more than half their lives, she’d been putting him first. Always.
Well, maybe not always. If he recalled correctly, it had taken him a little while to win her over back in the beginning. He smiled at the memory.
“Come join me, honey,” he urged, nodding toward the empty seat beside him as he focused on her.
“As soon as I clean up—”
“I’ll do the dishes,” he interrupted.
Lorrie’s head turned, her questioning gaze pinning him in place.
“What?” he grumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to hide his smile. She always gave him that same look when he offered to do something she thought him incapable of doing. “I can do the dishes.”
It was true. He could. Even if she rarely allowed him to. Then again, he thought they had a fancy little automatic dishwasher for just that purpose. But it wasn’t his ability to clean them that was the issue, or so he’d been told. Apparently he didn’t put them in their proper place. If you asked him, a cupboard was a cupboard was a cupboard.
“Please, darlin’,” he drawled, cocking his head to the side, giving her that smile she always seemed to warm to.
It apparently worked, because she gifted him with another grin, accompanied by a brief eye roll, then poured herself a cup of coffee—added one sugar and a drop of milk, as usual—then joined him at the table.
“Have you heard from Travis?” He leaned back in his chair as he watched her. She was moving slower than usual, and when she eased into the chair, Curtis knew something wasn’t right.
But for the time being, he pretended not to notice.
Lorrie nodded. “Yep. Kylie went for her prenatal checkup, and she’s doin’ good. She’s officially fourteen weeks along, and the baby’s doin’ good.”
“Is it a girl?”
“How would I know?” Lorrie asked, grinning—a full-blown smile this time.
Fine. If Travis, Kylie, and Gage didn’t want to know the sex of the baby, then neither did he. “And Braydon?”
Another nod. “Yep. Jess went for her checkup last week. Looks as though we’re gonna have two more grandbabies at almost the same time.”
Not long after Christmas, Travis had announced that Kylie was pregnant with their second child, followed by Braydon’s announcement that Jessie was pregnant, despite the fact that their wedding hadn’t taken place until February. According to his boy, he’d gotten tired of waiting. Made sense.
And those announcements had been the whipped cream topping on a damn good year. After all, the Walker family had grown by two more when Vanessa had given birth to Reid, making Zane a proud papa back in July, as well as Kaleb and Zoey bringing their second little one, Kellan, into the world only a month later. Now that their oldest grandchild, Mason, was two, Lorrie was at the boys to keep giving her more grandkids to spoil. It seemed to be working.
“And Kate?” he asked, referring to Travis’s sixteen-month-old daughter.
“Just a cold. And she’s better. Back to keepin’ her fathers on their toes according to Kylie.”
That he believed. Since he and Lorrie had only boys, Curtis had a hard time around little girls. Granted, Kate was their only granddaughter, not to mention, the cutest thing he’d ever laid eyes on, but he couldn’t deny that all that pink made him nervous.
Lorrie winced, and Curtis instantly sat up straight, reaching for her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she insisted, her voice strained.
Yeah, he’d been down this road before.
“That’s it, woman. I’m takin’ you to the doctor.” He was on his feet and heading for the phone before she could argue. When he turned back, he noticed she was looking paler than before, which worried him. Reaching for the receiver on the wall, he quickly dialed the phone and waited for the doctor to answer.
Lorrie wasn’t at all surprised when Curtis got to his feet and headed for the telephone. She’d learned long ago not to bother arguing with her husband. For one, it wouldn’t do her any good. When the stubborn old fart set his mind to something, there was no way to change it, and arguing would just prolong the inevitable.
So, once he’d called the doctor and convinced them that she needed to be seen right away—the man had always been persuasive—she had changed clothes, climbed into the truck, and let him take her to her appointment.
That had been the easy part of the day.
When the doctor had run some tests, then advised her that she had another kidney infection, along with a bladder infection, Lorrie hadn’t batted an eye. When he’d insisted that she go see a specialist and then arranged for her to get in immediately, she’d kept her composure then, too.
And when the new doctor with all the fancy initials after his name had kindly written out a prescription for more antibiotics, she’d accepted that, too.
But when the doctor had said that she needed surgery… Okay, technically it wasn’t surgery, but her brain didn’t seem to be processing that fact. What it was processing was the little bit of panic that had set in as soon as the doctor had explained what would happen.
No, maybe a lot of panic.
And not just her own.
Which explained why her house was full of people.
All of her boys were there, along with their significant others, the grandbabies, as well as a couple of her nephews. Oh, and the dogs. Couldn’t forget them. Not that she minded a house full of people. She’d spent the better part of her life making sure her family stuck together through thick and thin. But when they were all looking at her with concerned eyes and clasped hands, Lorrie would’ve preferred they be at their own houses, cherishing their families and making happy memories rather than sitting in her living room worried about her.
“I could make cookies,” she offered, wishing for something to do other than sit there and wait for the questions to come.
“Mom,” Travis said, his tone slightly chastising. That was Travis. Not only was he her oldest son, he was also—just as she’d predicted he would be—a worrywart like his father.
“It’s gonna be fine,” she told him, glancing around from one set of eyes to the next. “The doctor said it’s not a difficult procedure. They’re gonna go in with a laser to break up the stone.”
“A laser?” Zane asked at the same time Zoey said, “They don’t think it’ll pass on its own?”
“Based on the size of the stone and the location, along with the infection, he said the laser was the best way to go,” she said, glancing down at her hands. She really didn’t think all this talking was necessary.
“The blockage is causing the infection,” Curtis informed them.
Lorrie cast a quick look at her husband, noticing the crease in his forehead. Ever since the doctor had started talking in big words and mentioning general anesthesia, he’d been on edge. They all knew that Curtis portrayed the laid-back country boy as well as anyone, but when it came to her, he worried. A lot. That was one of the many, many reasons she’d fallen in love with him all those years ago.
“Now y’all better turn those frowns upside down,” Lorrie finally said, planting a smile on her face as she got to her feet. “It’s routine. They do this all the time. Who wants cookies?”
Mason and Derrick hopped up and ran toward her as she’d expected, jumping up and down, insisting that they get cookies.
As she turned away, urging the little boys toward the kitchen, Lorrie hoped no one saw the way her hands were shaking. There wasn’t much in the world that scared her—after all, she had raised seven rambunctious boys—but anything related to doctors or hospitals was sure to send her nerves into a tizzy.
“Momma, you really okay?”
Lorrie turned to see her youngest boy standing behind her. Zane had evidently followed her into the kitchen.
“I’m good, honey. I promise.”
Zane nodded, but it didn’t appear as though he believed her.
“Don’t you go gettin’ worried for nothin’,” she told him.
“I’m cool, Momma. Promise.”
“I know you are,” she said, wrapping her arms around him when he reached for her. Although he was twenty-six, towered over her by almost a foot, not to mention married with a baby of his own, Zane would always be her baby boy.
When she took a step back, she put another smile on her lips. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to worry. Everything was going to be fine.
Didn’t mean she wouldn’t be saying a few extra prayers in the coming days.