A Summer to Remember (24 page)

“Yeah, I know. But…” Should he drop it? Just let go for now? He didn't want to be pushy or intrusive. He should wait until she was ready to tell him, but what if she never was? How much farther would things have to go between them before she trusted him with a little medical information?

“But?” she repeated, prodding him.

He shrugged, managed half a grin, and said, “I was just going to say that you didn't have a heart attack…did you?”

“Oh, hell, no. My heart is incredibly strong considering that it's been broken more than once.” She ate a few more bites. “I grew up poor, and Jessy grew up in luxury, but other than that, we come from kind of the same place. Her parents didn't approve of her. They didn't love or support her. If she wasn't going to be the same snooty, phony, fake people they were, they wanted nothing to do with her. They turned their back on her, and she sailed out of their life after high school without ever looking back. She's kind of like the big sister I never had, and I'm the little sister she does have who pretends not to know her.”

“So you're all friends, but she's special.”

Fia nodded, then grinned slyly. “Besides, Dalton and Dillon are likely to ask for her help with one of the animals, and she really prefers to be gone when that happens.”

It sounded reasonable. Women did things together, like shopping, going to the bathroom, accompanying each other on appointments. And Elliot could hear in Fia's voice, could see in her eyes, the affection and respect she had for Jessy.

Wryly he polished off the last of his lunch. He'd met Fia so easily, hit it off with her so easily, fit into her life and fallen into her bed and gotten emotionally involved so easily. He'd expected it to continue that way. Perfect match, perfect romance, perfect life. He hadn't expected road bumps.

Your life has been filled with blessings,
Em used to say.
Don't get greedy.

He wasn't greedy. He was grateful for everything he had. He just wanted a little more.

But that was pretty much the definition of
greedy
, wasn't it?

Fia hadn't been truthful with Elliot yesterday about the doctor's visit. They had just talked a bit, true enough, and the doctor really was getting assigned elsewhere, but the details of the conversation she'd kept to herself. Jessy would have told Patricia and Lucy, of course, and that was fine, but no one would rat out Fia to Elliot.

I appreciate the fact that you've listened to me,
she'd told him,
but I need results. I can't go through life never knowing when I'm going to fall apart. You've ruled out a lot of stuff, but I need someone to rule something in. I need a diagnosis. I need treatment. I need my life back.

She'd been proud of herself for getting the speech out without tears, theatrics, or swearing. And he'd nodded somberly—the way he did everything—and told her a new doctor would be taking over her care. Basically, she would be starting over again. Same old stories to repeat to him. Old x-rays and EEGs and MRIs for him to review. New ones to order. And all on a snail's timetable.

And this morning she'd woken up with a migraine and a tender left arm that she couldn't straighten. It made getting dressed awkward, so she tossed aside the polka dot bra she adored and the button-front shirt and chose gym shorts and a T-shirt instead. Even getting those on one-handed with every movement threatening to split her skull was tough. Thank goodness she'd cut all her hair off, or she would go around all day looking as if she'd caught her head in a blender.

Mouse followed her from the bedroom to the bathroom, where she pocketed a pill for her headache, then trotted to the back door. Fia held on to the wall with her good hand, made her way to the laundry room, and found a length of clothesline she used to stretch above the bathtub to hang her lingerie. Judging from Mouse's ever-more anxious barks, it was taking her forever, but soon she had one end of the line knotted to the ring on Mouse's collar and the other to the stair railing.

“I hate to send you out like this, pretty girl, but stairs and migraines are a dangerous combination for me.” After making sure the knot at the post was secure, she stepped out of the way, and Mouse raced past her. She didn't go to the grass, of course, but squatted on the patio and peed, cringing every time it splashed back on her legs. Then she chose a clean square of concrete to poop on.

“That'll teach me to skip taking you for a walk.” Leaving the door open, Fia went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator before surveying the food there, wondering if anything would stay down. Leftover dumplings, hamburger patties, a variety of cheeses, kiwis, spinach, oranges. Elliot was determined to keep her potassium and magnesium levels up to stave off any more muscle spasms.

If only it were that simple.

She closed the door, took a loaf of his bread from its wrapper, and tore off a small piece. She was on her way to check on Mouse when she almost tripped over her.

“Sweetie, I'm your best friend when your daddy is working. Please don't break me.”

Fia unhooked the puppy, and totally unapologetic, Mouse went to her dish and chowed down on the nuggets Elliot had poured for her. Nibbling a tiny bite of bread, Fia closed the back door and gauged the distance between where she stood and the bed versus the couch. The bed was more comfortable, but the couch was closer, so she was shuffling that way when the phone rang.

Though she didn't recognize the ringtone, Fia's hand went automatically to her pocket before she realized it was Elliot's phone on the kitchen counter. Tucking the water into the crook formed by her stiff arm, she picked it up. Caller ID showed it was Emily of the funny stories, devoted sister and all-around good person. It would be polite to let it go to voice mail, but Fia couldn't resist.

“Elliot's phone.”

There was a moment of silence, then a female version of Elliot's voice chuckled. “Elliot's sister here. And you must be Elliot's girl.”

Elliot's girl.
Oh, she loved the sound of that. But her brain insisted on adding
for the moment,
and the pleasure faded.

“I'm Fia.” She reached the couch and sank onto the cushions. Snagging the throw from the back, she spread it over her and snuggled deep into the cushions. “Elliot must have been in a hurry this morning since he left his phone here. He has to be at work at oh-dark-thirty.”

“Oh.” Was there a wealth of meaning in that small syllable, or was Fia imagining it? Probably imagining, because when Emily went on, there was no change in her tone. “I bet he's loving that job. He's always had way more interest in food than most people. I thought any woman he settled down with would be doubly lucky, not only in getting a great guy but an outstanding personal chef, too. His red onion and olive focaccia bread…Oh, my.”

“I haven't had that yet. Everything else has been fabulous, though.”

“Just wait. He'll fix you every dish in his repertoire before long. I think it's part of his way of taking care of people. It was important to our grandmother that everyone was happy and comfortable and provided for, and El's the same way. It's a lot of responsibility, but it's what makes him happy. And as long as he's being such a giver, I don't have to.” Her laugh denied the truth of her last comment. “So you're an Oklahoma girl—or as the men in my family like to say, Far North Texas.”

The crunching in the kitchen stopped, and Mouse appeared around the counter, nails clicking on the floor before she lightly jumped onto the couch and settled in next to Fia's legs. “I'm actually from Florida, but God rescued me and brought me here.”

Letting her eyes drift shut, Fia mentally sighed. A quiet dark room, Mouse curled up against her, warm and snuggly, and a friendly voice on the phone. For a bad time, it was pretty good.

“He talks about you a lot,” she said. “Sounds like you two had a great childhood.”

Emily laughed. “We did, despite driving each other crazy, along with our parents and the rest of the family. We picked on each other, played practical jokes, wished each other out of our lives from time to time, but if anybody else said or did anything against one of us, all hell broke loose. I didn't fully appreciate him at the time, but he's the best brother a woman could ask for.”

And the best man a woman could ask for.
Ignoring the twinge around her heart, Fia asked, “So you have three kids?”

“Two girls and a boy. They drive each other and the rest of us crazy. When school's out, we're taking them to Six Flags, and we're planning to spend a few days in Tallgrass. We're looking forward to sharing the insanity and meeting you.”

Their trip would probably be the end of May, the beginning of June. Would she and Elliot still be together?
He's such a giver,
Emily had said. Would he give too much to Fia and stick around? Or would he understand why she couldn't commit to him and let things end?

A tear slid down her cheek to land on the pillow, but her voice still sounded pretty even. “That would be nice.” In a normal world, she would love to meet his family, to be welcomed and embraced as one of their own, to have parents, a sister, nieces, and a nephew, even if they were all in-laws. It would be a totally new experience for her, and she could hardly even imagine how wonderful it would be.

But her world wasn't normal, and her heart could break only so many times.

“Listen, Fia, I didn't mean to interrupt your day. I was just going to let Elliot know that the trip is definite. If Bill and I tried to back out now, there would be rioting in the streets. Tell him that, will you?” Emily's voice turned sly. “I'll tell him myself that I like his girl. I think we'll be great friends, Fia.”

In a normal world, Fia thought they could be, too. But…

“Thanks. It's nice meeting you, Emily.”

After hanging up, Fia dug the migraine pill from her pocket, lifted her head high enough to swallow it with some water, then lay back down with a sigh. Whatever happened, she could deal with it, right?

Though, God help her, she would be more than happy to stop dealing with problems for a while.

“Tell me again why you rented an apartment?”

Elliot looked up from the kitchen, where he was applying a piece of duct tape to the bag of dog food. It was kind of pointless keeping it there when Mouse was spending way more time at Fia's place than their own. He was spending way more time there, too. In the week since they'd first made love, the only night he'd come home to sleep was Thursday, when her migraine had left her too worn out to do anything but sleep.

And he'd lain in that bed across the room, missing her, and worried himself to sleep.

“Because you didn't fall into bed with me the night we met.”

Fia gave him a sweet smile. “You didn't ask me to.”

“It just seemed kind of tawdry.”

“Tawdry?” She laughed. “What twenty-eight-year-old man uses the word
tawdry
?”

“This one. I learned it from my grandma. Anything she didn't approve of was tawdry. And it's kind of a fun word to say. Tawww-dry.” He set the food bag near the door, then checked the refrigerator, tossing out a mostly empty carton of milk. “Besides, I'd never made love to a woman in a Murphy bed.”

She lifted one brow. “It wasn't any different from a regular bed, though if it had folded up with us inside…They would have found our naked bodies with smiles on our faces.”

“Hey, I'm a tough guy. I can fight my way out of a creaky old fold-up bed.” He picked up the basket holding what was left of his clean clothes, then grabbed the one overflowing with dirty clothes, too. It was time to do some laundry.

It had been a very good Saturday, and not just because weekends were sort of obliged to be good or risk losing their
thank-God-it's-here
status. He'd also had the day off, so he'd gotten to sleep in late, and he'd awakened with Fia snuggled behind him. They'd done pretty much nothing: had a breakfast with far too many calories, cleaned the mostly clean house, gone to the grocery store and debated menus, and driven out to the lake, parking in the spot where he and Mouse had camped, sitting on the tailgate, watching the dog run wild, and even casting a fishing line into the water. They'd thrown back their catches, though, little guys that had probably scurried to the lake bottom and hidden for the rest of the day.

Now the sun was setting, Mouse was at Fia's house, probably sleeping on the bed, and as soon as he got the stuff he'd come for into the truck, he and Fia were heading to Tallgrass's most popular cowboy bar. They'd done plenty of dancing in private without music. Now he was looking forward to doing it with music.

A person might think he'd dressed for the occasion—button-down shirt, jeans, boots, Stetson—but they were his regular clothes. Fia, though…Man, was she dressed for it.

Her dress was tan with a western-diamond-ribbon pattern in subdued browns, greens, and rusts. It left her arms bare and was almost short enough to pass for a shirt. The leather belt buckled around her waist was decked with silver conchos and fringe the color of rich caramel that dangled beyond the hem, brushing her thigh when she moved. She'd traded her usual sandals and running shoes for a pair of well-worn brown cowgirl boots studded with silver and dangling fringe down the outside seam. Their six-inch shaft, like the dress, left an awful lot of leg to admire.

“For a Florida girl, you sure make a good cowgirl.”

“I'm a fake cowgirl. Never been on a horse in my life, and the only ranch I've ever set foot on was Dalton's, for a barbecue last month.” Slowly she walked toward him, a mesmerizing sight, the fabric of the dress shifting with each step, the fringe swaying, the muscles in her long legs flexing. When she stopped a few feet in front of him, he hooked his finger inside her belt and drew her close, slid his arm around her waist, and snugged her hips up to his.