Chapter 14

“Hey, Mrs. McDonald.” Emma knocked on her open door Saturday morning. “How’s your foot feeling?”

Mrs. McDonald looked up from a photo album she had open on her lap, smiling widely as Emma walked toward her.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Nancy before you’ll go ahead and do it?”

“Sorry.” Emma laughed. “I’ll get there eventually.”

“Well, get there sooner. Feels like I’m a hundred and three when you call me by my last name.”

“And you’re only ninety-seven. Horrors!”

“Sassy this morning, aren’t you?” Nancy patted the bed next to her. “I’m eighty-seven, thank you. Not a moment older. Come sit for a minute.”

Emma smiled. This morning, after ten days—and one long hour—of living out of Bette’s office, she’d had enough of paperwork, enough of staring at the computer monitor, enough of trying to dig out from the other woman’s mess. She was itching to get to know the residents of Shady Acres as more than profiles in a binder, even though she wasn’t going to be here long enough to do a very good job of it.

This morning, she’d sat in on the morning report meeting, where the night nurses handed off to the day shift, listening to the list of residents and their respective issues, asking questions and taking reams of notes. Maybe that meeting had lasted longer because of her presence, and maybe the night nurses resented that because they were tired and just wanted to get home, but Emma was determined to start attending these sessions, because she knew they’d give her valuable information she wasn’t finding elsewhere.

She smiled as she sat next to Nancy on the bed. This was her favorite part of each of her off-site assignments—the time spent just listening to stories and looking at pictures. The days could be so damn endless for these patients, so damn lonely. One day faded into the next until they lost track of which day it even was, and that was something Emma wanted to change.

They needed to do more than put bingo on the calendar every Thursday, or have a pancake brunch on Sundays. They needed people around—even the crotchety, grumpy ones who claimed they just wanted to be left alone.

Emma had plans. Suddenly—and she didn’t want to necessarily give Jasper credit for this, but it was hard to ignore his deep, convincing voice in her head—she had plans.

But first, she had Nancy and a photo album, and there wasn’t a better way she could spend her next half-hour than this.

“Who’s this right here?” She pointed at a little boy jumping off a dock, his blond hair sticking straight up in the air.

“Oh, that’s Mikey, my son.” Nancy smiled. “ ’Course, he doesn’t much like to be called that now, given that he’s fifty-five, but he’ll always be Mikey to me.”

“Of course. Who’s this?”

“Sally. My sister. She was a wild one, let me tell you. All over the world, that girl went. She was a dancer. Legs like rubber bands but made of steel. She was a backup dancer for all the big acts. Never stayed in a place more than three days at a time, I swear.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“It was, I’m sure. But it was its own kind of lonely, too. She was surrounded by people all the time, but they weren’t family, you know? They weren’t people who really knew her stories.”

Emma nodded, flipping the page and putting her hand to her mouth when she saw a wedding photo, yellowing at the edges.

“This is you!”

“ ’Course it is.” Nancy smiled, pinching her cheeks to smooth out her wrinkles. “Can’t you see the resemblance?”

“Your eyes are the same.”

“Nah.” She shook her head. “Those eyes were young and innocent. They knew nothing.”

“But you’re all old and wise now?”

“You’d think.” Nancy laughed. “But it took me an awful long time to get here.”

Emma flipped slowly through a few more pages. She saw Nancy and her husband, Charlie, posing in front of waterfalls, the Eiffel Tower, in a rowboat on a beautiful lake. She saw pictures of dog after dog, and smiling kids doing everything from making mud pies to posing in graduation gowns.

The album was thick, and she felt her face go serious as she watched a life go by, watched gray hairs appear, watched baby teeth fall out and adult ones grow in, watched people come in for a while, then disappear.

She saw Nancy dressed up, dressed down, in her pajamas, and in diving gear. She saw the family at church picnics, camping in some gorgeous forest, and hanging out of a toboggan. She saw kids on horseback, on bikes, and on piggyback. She saw Nancy and Charlie in happy moments, quiet moments, and moments when they obviously hadn’t known they were being photographed.

When she closed the book, Nancy reached for it, a small smile on her face.

“Thanks for letting me look at this, Nancy.” Emma took a deep breath, feeling a strange mixture of comfort…and sadness.

What would her album look like right now? In ten years? In fifty? What would she have to show for her hours on this Earth?

“Thanks for taking the time to look.” Nancy patted her arm. “Now, what are you doing here on a Saturday, anyway? You’re young and single and out of your element. You should be out doing something fun today, not walking around these hallways talking to us old fuddy-duddies and looking at old pictures.”

“But I like you old fuddy-duddies.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to set you up with Jasper. He’s single and here far too much, too.”

“Oh, boy.” Emma’s stomach jumped. “No matchmaking allowed. I’m only here for a few weeks, Nancy. I wouldn’t want to fall hopelessly in love with poor Jasper and then have to leave him broken-hearted, right?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The falling hopelessly part might make those weeks a little nicer, don’t you think?”

Emma shook her head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Did I ever tell you I was a matchmaker in my old village?”

“What old village?”

“Back in Sicily. I was the one the mothers came to—like Fiddler on the Roof, you know?”

“Hey, Nancy?”

“Yes?” The older woman looked up as Emma stood, her eyes all innocence personified.

“You grew up in Pittsburgh.”

“Did I, now?” Nancy put her fingers to her head. “Old brain. I forget.”

“And you’re Polish, you nut.”

Nancy laughed out loud. “Fine. But I still make a pretty damn good matchmaker. You and Jasper would have a good time together. I’d bet my Social Security on that.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Jasper’s actually taking me out this afternoon.”

“Is he, now?” Nancy clasped her hands together as if she’d made it happen.

“He is. We’re going to Whisper Creek to ride. I’m going to try not to fall off and conk my head. Beyond that, no plans.”

“Whisper Creek? The calendar place?” Nancy smiled broadly, pointing at a floral calendar hanging on her wall.

“Apparently, yes.”

“I have that calendar.”

Emma felt her jaw drop. “No way.”

“I do.” She pointed at her wall again, where the September page was a picture of a pot of mums. “It’s under that calendar. I don’t like to shock people.”

Emma walked to the wall, laughing as she lifted the floral calendar off its nail and found—holy cow—Mr. September directly underneath.

“My daughter sent me that.” Nancy laughed. “Said I deserved to have more than mountains to look at.”

“And who sent you the other one?”

“My other daughter.” Nancy rolled her eyes. “Who would be appalled if she knew I much prefer the cowboys.”

“Guess it’s good you keep this one on top, then, hm?” Emma hung the flowers back up.

“Eh, we’ll see. Mr. October may have to take top billing over pumpkins. I think I’ll trade them out at the end of the month. Trouble is, then everybody here makes excuses to visit me, but all they really want to see is my cowboys.”

Emma laughed. “Maybe we need to order a case for the other residents?”

“Yes. See if you can pick one up while you’re there.” Nancy smiled, reaching for Emma’s hand. “Have fun this afternoon. Try not to think about work. It’ll all get done eventually, but this blue sky? Won’t last forever. And Jasper? Neither will he.”

An hour later, the vibration of Emma’s phone startled her as she sat back at Bette’s desk, staring blankly at the monitor. She blinked hard as she looked at her phone, wondering how in the world forty-five minutes had gone by without her accomplishing any-damn-thing.

Yeah, she knew exactly how it had gone by. In sweet, tempting daydreams—that’s how.

“Hello,” she answered. “This is Emma’s phone. Unfortunately, Emma is out with a tall, hot cowboy right now and can’t pick up. Feel free to leave a message, and she’ll call you back when she’s done with him.”

“Nice.” Ari laughed. “So it appears you survived your date with kitten-man?”

“Not a date, but yes, I survived.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Oh, I don’t know—standard twenty questions. How was it? How was he? How hot was he? Did you laugh? Did you cry? Did you tell your deep, dark secrets? Did you kiss? Did you stay? And were the kittens cute?”

Emma laughed as Ari spat out the questions in her standard rapid-fire way.

“Lastly, why did you not call your best friend in the world when you got home? Because if you were here, you would have done that.”

“Aw, Ari. Don’t use your pouty voice. It was after midnight before I got home.” The lie rolled off her tongue before she could wonder why she was lying to her best friend.

“Midnight my time? Or yours?”

“Yours. I did text that I was home and alive, though. Doesn’t that get me any points?”

“Nope. I want details.”

“Maybe that’s why I didn’t call. Because there aren’t any.”

Ari sighed dramatically. “Honey, have you googled your guy?”

“Um”—Emma shook her head, confused—“what? No! Why? And also, not my guy!”

“Well, I did, because I’m that good of a friend and all.”

“Oh, lordy. And what did you find out?”

Ari laughed. “Hey, you were going out with a stranger in a strange land, and I was apparently the only one who knew you were doing it. I felt a certain level of responsibility to at least make sure he didn’t have mug shots online.”

“Noted. And thank you, I think. Please tell me you didn’t find mug shots.”

“Didn’t. But I did find his profile pic from his old law firm.”

“Not bad-looking, hm?”

“Are you kidding me? If you don’t convince that man to go on a real date while you’re out there, I will come out and ask him myself.”

“I’d be scared, except you’re afraid to fly, so it’d take you too long to get here.”

“Good point.” Ari sneezed. “So what’s he really like? C’mon. Give me something fun to think about besides the fact that I’m already on my second cold of the year, and I have to make two social service calls later today.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

“I know. And thank you. This job might kill me before I’m thirty.”

“You’re thirty-three.”

“See? Already forgot how to count. It’s happening.” Emma heard Ari’s teakettle hiss, and it gave her a quick pang of homesickness. “So distract me, please. I beg you.”

“I would, but I’d run the risk of you actually getting in your car and coming up here. You’d totally marry this one.”

“Re-eally. Because?”

“Because he’s nice. And sweet. And he really is fostering kittens, so—I mean—hel-lo. He’s so good with his dad, and he runs a café downtown that’s gorgeous and smells like heaven, and…I don’t know. He’s just kind of one of those too-good-to-be-true guys.”

“Well, obviously there’s something heinously wrong with him, then.”

“Obviously.”

“Is he easy to talk to?”

“Frighteningly.”

“Would you do him, given the chance?”

“Ari!”

“Hey, just asking. I mean, he sounds gay, so the question occurs.”

Emma laughed. “Oh, he is definitely not gay.”

“And you know this, how?”

Emma took a deep breath as she thought back to the way Jasper had looked down at her last night after he’d helped her put on her sweater. She’d bet money he’d been thinking about kissing her.

But then he’d backed up, and she’d felt like she must be imagining it. Then she’d made inane comments and practically fled.

And then she’d gone the wrong freaking way.

“Emma? Seriously? Leaving me hanging here?”

“He’s not gay. I don’t have any carnal knowledge of the man, but I guarantee he’s not. He just—isn’t.”

It would be a crime, really.

“So what’s next?”

Emma shook her head. “What do you mean—‘what’s next’?”

“Did you make plans to see each other again?”

“We see each other practically every day. He visits his dad a lot.”

Ari sighed. “Are you going to do anything outside of the nursing home?”

“Actually, yes. He convinced me to go out to Whisper Creek this afternoon.”

“Cowboy heaven? Seriously? You will send pictures, right? Of the scenery, I mean?”

Emma laughed. “Of the scenery, yes. Any particular scenery you’d like me to focus on?”

“Oh, you know. Mountains, horses, cowboys. Whatever crosses your path. And Emma?”

“Oh, boy. You have your advice-voice on.”

Ari sighed. “Have fun, okay?”

“That’s it? That’s your sage advice?”

“You want more?”

Emma bit her thumbnail, considering. Did she? “Maybe? Sort of? I don’t know?”

“Okay, fine. Since you asked, I have more.”

“Excellent.”

“I think you would be nuts not to date this guy, if he’s actually as great as you make him sound.”

“With the understanding that he hasn’t actually asked me to date him, you mean?”

“Details. He’s had dinner with you how many times now? Invited you to his place? Is taking you out to Whisper Creek for the afternoon? I mean, seriously? How do you define dating?”

“He’s just being kind, Ari. I’m out here alone, and he’s taking pity on me. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

She hugged herself as she remembered the heat of his hands sliding down her arms last night.

Please let it not be pity.

“Does it feel like pity?”

“I…don’t know. Not sure I know what that does feel like. I’m a little out of practice in this whole game, right?”

“Well, time to pick up that bat and get back in the game, sweetie.” Ari sneezed again. “Or whatever analogy actually goes together and makes sense. I’m too stuffed up to know anymore. But seriously. Go wild, do something crazy, and stop worrying so hard about being perfect enough to impress the universe. Maybe the universe doesn’t give a hoot right now.”

“I have no delusions about my own perfection, Ari.”

“Oh, I know that. You might be a tad delusional about your future chances of perfection, however.”

“I think your cold has gone to your head.” Emma laughed, but she could hear the nervous undertone, and she was sure Ari could, as well. “I’ll do my best. How’s that?”

“Twelve weeks is a long time. It’s long enough to tell a lot about a person.”

Emma’s gut swirled. Yeah, twelve weeks was a long time.

It was also a painfully short one, when the stars and moon and oceans collided.

And some rebellions ended in nothing but tears, accusations, and horrible, aching loss.