Dakota Love (18 page)

He wished he wasn’t tied to tubes. He wanted to drop to his knees, tell her he loved her, and beg her forgiveness. “Caroline.” His voice pleaded for him. “I’ve been taking better care of myself. My cardiac doctors are pleased. This health issue”—he waved his hands to circumference the room—“had nothing to do with that.”

Resignation flickered in her eyes. “I can’t do this again. I can’t care for someone and then lose him.”

“But what happened wasn’t life-threatening.” Despite the pain he leaned forward and reached toward her.

She stepped closer to the foot of the bed, out of arm’s reach. “It could have been. I thought it was, and so did you.” Her rapid blinking indicated she was on the verge of tears.

A lump formed in Rodney’s throat, and his chest ached. None of it a side effect from surgery.

“Rodney, I think it’s best we don’t see each other again. I know I owe you something for working on my website, and I’ll finish your quilt….”

“Caroline, don’t say that. Let’s not talk about this now. Go home and get some rest and give it some time.” If only he could get out of this bed. Frustrated, he punched the mattress. The IV tube slapped against the bed frame.

Michelle came into the room. “What’s going on in here? I can hear you down the hall. Both of you calm down, especially you.” She ran to Rodney’s side. “Ease back.” She guided his body back into the pillows.

“I knew I shouldn’t have stayed.” Caroline looked at Michelle, then back at Rodney. “I knew I’d upset you when you need to get rest. But I can’t”—she backed away from the bed, her hands shielding her eyes—“I can’t do this. I’ve got to get out of here.” She ran to the door. “Good-bye, Rodney,” she called over her shoulder.

Michelle played her registered nurse card and insisted Rodney recuperate at her house. At first he argued; he had a business to run. She rebutted that even if it did snow, his crew could handle all the snow removal. He needed to rest and get his strength back. Michelle promised that Caleb, home from college for spring break, could lend a hand to Rodney’s crew if the need arose.

Rodney sensed Michelle knew the real reason he wanted to go home—to be near Caroline. He’d hoped she’d forgiven him. He’d hoped her feelings hadn’t changed. He’d hoped that maybe she wanted to nurse him back to health. However, she hadn’t visited or called since she’d run out of his hospital room. He tried calling her, but all he ever reached was the answering machine. In the end, he relented and went to Michelle’s home.

Caleb provided a distraction during the day while everyone else was at work or school. The first day was awkward. Rodney didn’t have much in common with either of his nephews, nor did he really know them. After topical small talk, he and Caleb struggled for conversation. Caleb suggested they watch movies and they discovered that they both preferred comedies.

By evening, the household bustled. Everyone seemed to talk at once. No quiet dinners on the arm of the sofa, watching the weather. Rodney sat at the kitchen table and watched everyone buzz around Michelle while she prepared their dinner. How did she keep track of what she was doing while participating in three separate conversations that took side turns at any given moment? He felt like an outsider peering through a window like he always did when he was around his family.

Then a memory came to mind. His apron-clad mother stood at the Formica kitchen table, rolling piecrust. Michelle flanked one side of her, rolling a small circle of dough. He hovered on the other side, waiting for the small rolling pin Michelle used, both of them chattering about their day at school as they were making their after-school snack. His, a strawberry jam–filled tart; Michelle’s a cinnamon-sugar crisp. A standard activity in their household up until the time his dad took a different job in a different town. At seventeen, Rodney stayed behind to graduate with his class. He missed his family members so much when they moved. He missed being a part of a family and filled that void with work. He saw it now, not before.

“Hey, where are you?” Michelle waved a hand in front of Rodney’s face. “And why aren’t you over here helping out?”

“Don’t you have enough help?” Rodney stood and wiped his palms across his jeans.

“Never.”

“What she means is, she needs another person to boss.” Caleb looked up from scrubbing potatoes.

Rodney smiled. “I got a lot of that growing up.” He joined Caleb by the sink.

Michelle snapped a towel, missing both of them by inches. “Get to work. Rodney, core those apples,” she commanded in a low voice, then giggled.

“So where were you a minute ago?” Michelle arranged pieces of chicken in a baking pan.

“Making after-school snacks out of piecrust.” Rodney smiled. He’d eaten fancy strawberry tarts made by world-famous chefs in his lifetime, but none of them tasted as good as those childhood pastries.

Michelle’s eyes lit up. “I haven’t thought about that in years. It was so much fun.” She arranged the chicken, scalloped potatoes, and baked apple pans in the oven and closed the door. “We could do that for dessert tomorrow night if you’d like.”

“I would.” Rodney walked over to Michelle and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry I put my career before family. I missed out on so much. I’ve been a terrible brother and uncle. Not to mention son, especially to Mom after Dad died. There were so many things she needed help with, and after all the things she did for me, us, well, I let her down.”

Michelle cupped her hands around Rodney’s face. “A terrible son? Let her down? You were there when it counted. Despite your own health issues, you made her last wish come true, to stay in her home until the end.” She hugged him tight. “We all loved you very much, even in your absence.”

“Hey,” Caleb shouted so his dad and brother who’d moved to another room could hear, “Mom and Uncle Rodney are getting mushy. Someone save me.”

Rodney held Michelle at arm’s length. “Thank you for everything.” He raised an eyebrow and made a slight nod of his head. She nodded back. They ran and embraced Caleb in a big bear hug. “Too late, buddy. I’ve got quite a bit of lost time to make up.”

“Sentimental old people.” Caleb didn’t return their embrace, but Rodney noted he didn’t try to break it either.

“Speaking of which,” Michelle said, breaking her hold, “I swung by your house and picked up your mail. The letter from Aunt Jenny came.”

Rodney patted his nephew on the shoulder and went back to the table to sit down while Michelle dug through her tote bag. She pulled a rubber-banded stack from her bag and brought his mail to him.

“So, looking through my mail, are you? What else did I get?” Rodney raised his brows.

“Bills, magazines, junk.” Michelle stood over his shoulder, waiting for him to open the envelope Aunt Jenny finally got into the mail.

He tore a flap corner and ran his finger under it. The seal popped open without much effort. The picture was tucked inside a tri-folded letter written on notebook paper. Rodney drew his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. The image showed two children posed on their knees in front of a couch that a quilt was draped over.

Rodney brought the picture closer, hoping the detail would be clearer. “I don’t know. The flower pattern in the fabric is close, but the blocks aren’t right.” He held the picture up for his sister to take a closer look.

After Michelle studied it, she handed it to Caleb, whose outstretched hand waited for it.

“What are we looking at?” he asked.

“The quilt,” Michelle said. “It’s definitely not the same block. It looks nothing like Mom’s quilt.”

“We’ve hit a dead end, then. I can’t locate any relatives in California, either. I guess we’ll never know.” Rodney sighed, removed his glasses, then scrubbed his face with his hands. What was the story with this quilt? It didn’t just magically appear in his mom’s trunk. “Caroline would probably be interested in looking at the quilt in the picture.”

“Never know what, and who’s Caroline?” Caleb laid the picture on the table.

“When Uncle Rodney was rooting around Grandma’s trunk, he found a quilt that he’s having restored. We thought it might be a family heirloom. Caroline is the lady who restores quilts.” Michelle sat down on a chair and rested her chin in her hand.

Rodney copied Michelle’s stance and stared at the picture as if that would turn the quilt on the couch into the one at Caroline’s house.

“Is the quilt yellow with white flowers and torn?”

Rodney and Michelle turned their heads in sync to look at each other. The astonishment he felt seemed mirrored in Michelle’s features. They both turned toward Caleb.

Caleb’s eyes grew wide. “What?” he asked as if he were in trouble.

“Do you know where Grandma got that quilt?” Rodney asked.

“Yeah, I was with her.” Caleb narrowed his eyes and shot them both an “are you crazy?” look.

Michelle reached out and touched his wrist. “Where’d she get it, Caleb?”

“We found it. We’d been walking in that preserve area close to her house. Your house.” He corrected himself and looked at Rodney. “A thunderstorm came up. The wind came first. We ran toward a shelter and got there just as big huge raindrops started falling. I thought once we reached the shelter we’d be safe from the storm, but then lightning flashed. Grandma was sure it’d strike the shelter. By that time it started pouring. We knew we’d be soaked by the time we got back to her car. Then she spotted the quilt lying on the floor of the shelter. We held it over our heads as we ran for her car.”

Caleb laughed. “After we got into the car, it rained so hard we couldn’t see. But that’s not what’s weird. While walking the trail a few days later, Grandma found out that lightning had struck a huge tree and it fell on the shelter. Smashed it flat. Grandma insisted God sent that quilt to save our lives.” Caleb shrugged in a no-big-deal fashion. “Must be why she kept it.”

Rodney’s chuckles grew into a laugh. “I guess we asked the wrong people.”

“So, Uncle Rodney, are you interested in that quilt lady?”

Rodney shot a narrow-eyed look at Caleb. “Why would you ask that?”

Caleb shrugged. “Why else would a guy want a quilt fixed?”

Rodney grinned. Maybe he had more in common with this nephew than he thought.

Caroline had turned off the ringer on the phone when she’d come home from her visit to the hospital a week and a half ago. The only indication that the phone rang was when the answering machine message clicked on, startling her every time. She returned the business calls and played Rodney’s messages over and over. She should have deleted them, but she savored the sound of his voice. His sincere apologies were a balm for her aching heart but not the cure. The cure, she guessed, was to continue seeing him, but then her anger flared. Had she known he’d suffered a mild heart attack, the EMTs would have arrived ten minutes sooner. He could have died in that time, had it been his heart instead of his gallbladder.

At first, she worried that Jason’s confrontation with Rodney had brought on the attack. She’d been half sick all the way to the hospital, thinking her son had contributed to Rodney’s supposed heart attack. That worry turned to anger when she realized Jason just might have been right about Rodney all along.

What if they had committed to a serious relationship and this had been fatal? She’d be lost again, just like when Ted died. Trance-walking through life, scared and wondering, always wondering, how she’d face the future. Could she pay the phone bill, the light bill, and buy groceries? What if she got sick or needed a new roof?

Aware her previous thoughts had caused her to pull the corner of her mouth in, she released her lower lip. Oh, what did she care if her face showed her internal concerns? They were valid, after all.

She pushed away from her sewing machine. She’d pieced both T-shirt quilt tops together, trying to finish any projects that tied her to Rodney. She glanced at his quilt still pinned to her display board. Would that fabric never come in? She huffed up the stairs to the freezer to see what weight-conscious frozen entrée would be her dinner.

A knock on the side door startled her, and she bumped her shoulder on the freezer door. She slapped the freezer door shut. Who could that be? It was her business door, and she hadn’t made any client appointments. The stretched and worn light blue jogging suit she wore showed brown coffee stains from an earlier spill. Rubbing her shoulder to alleviate the pain, she went down the two steps to the entryway. Mark stood at the door.