Married by Accident Page 13

  “But Mrs. Finster—”

  The woman put up a broad hand. “No. No buts. That man has simply become...impossible. For the sake of the man he once was, I have put up with him until you got here. And that’s more than anyone else I know would have done. Yes, he has a cross to bear. And he is not bearing it well, not at all.”

  The cat in Melinda’s arms began to squirm. She let it slink to the ground as the nurse continued her diatribe. “He won’t eat the good meals I cook. And just let me try to help him dress or get from his bed to his wheelchair. You should hear the things he calls me. For a man who often has trouble remembering certain words and would never take the name of the Lord in vain in any case, he certainly can think of frightful things to say to a woman who is only trying to do her—”

  “Mrs. Finster.”

  She glared at him. “What?”

  “All right. I understand.”

  “Well, I should hope so.” She squinted at him, rather ruefully. “Look, Cole. I’m sorry. It wasn’t that bad when I could go home at night. But I just can’t—”

  “I know. And I don’t blame you. He’s been a real tyrant since the stroke. And I can see that my being gone has only made the situation worse. You know how he’s always been. So strong and capable. He hates his own awkwardness. And he’s been worried...about our family problems.”

  The nurse, who obviously knew at least the bare facts of the “family problems” Cole had mentioned, cast a quick glance at Annie. “Annie,” she said with careful politeness. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Annie nodded and forced a brave smile. “Hi there, Mrs. Finster.”

  Cole said, “I’m only grateful that you waited to leave until we got here.”

  The nurse drew herself up. “Well. I truly did want to help. But the last two weeks have reminded me why I retired five years ago. I’m just not young enough anymore to bear up under a difficult patient’s constant abuse.”

  “It’s okay. Why don’t you go on in and get your things together and—”

  “I’m all packed. My suitcase is waiting in the front hall. I’ve been sitting by the window, watching for you to drive up.”

  “Is my father—?”

  “Don’t worry. In spite of what he keeps calling me, I am not a fiend straight out of bell. He’s clean and he was fed at noon. I checked on him fifteen minutes ago. He was fine—except for his attitude, of course.”

  “Good. Do you want me to write you a check now, or—?”

  “Whenever you get around to it. Just send it to the house.”

  “I’ll get it out to you tomorrow.”

  “No hurry.” With a crisp nod of her gray head, she turned, marched back up the steps and went inside. She reappeared a few seconds later, carrying a large shoulder bag and a bulky suitcase.

  Cole met her halfway up the steps. “Let me help—”

  She doled out a quick, no-nonsense smile. “If I can take care of Preston Yuma around the clock for fifteen days, you can be certain I can carry my own suitcase to the car.” She held out her hand. “Here’s the beeper. I left the receiver for the baby monitor on the coffee table in the living room—not that he will ever lower himself to call a person on it.”

  Cole took the device and stepped back. “Well, then. Thank you, Mrs. Finster. Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome. And you know, if he continues to refuse a stay in a rehabilitation center, you really ought to move him to the lower floor. That big door off the front hall to the room you use now is wide enough for his wheelchair. And he’d be able to get to the table for meals by himself that way. He could also sit in the living room now and then. Make him feel a bit more capable, more involved in things, if you know what I mean. And if he’d just practice more on that walker of his—”

  “Mrs. Finster. You’re right. And believe me. I have tried to convince him to trade rooms with me.”

  The nurse shook her head. “I imagine you have. And I’m sure you’ll keep trying.”

  “Yes. I will.”

  “Well. I’ll see you in church, then?”

  “You bet.”

  “And you, Annie?”

  Annie answered somewhat sheepishly. “Sure, Mrs. Finster.”

  “It is good to see you home.”

  “Thank you. It’s...good to be home.”

  The nurse flashed another quick smile, one that included Melinda. Annie swiftly introduced the two and the nurse said she hoped to see Melinda at church, too. Then she shifted her suitcase to her other hand, strode down the last step and straight to the gleaming little Bug, where she hauled up the trunk lid and tossed the suitcase in. Dust flew as she backed, turned and sped away down the driveway.

  Once the little car had roared off down the road, the beeper in Cole’s hand went off. Cole silenced it, then said grimly, “Get the baby. We’d better go in.”

  The front door opened onto a dim, wood-floored entry hall, with other doors on each wall and a staircase of dark, polished wood leading up to the second floor. Though the house had to be at least fifty years old, someone had shown the good sense to install air conditioning. After the sweltering heat outside, the coolness felt wonderful. Melinda sighed in relief.

  Her relief didn’t last long, however. Cole had just closed the door behind them when something crashed to the floor directly over their heads.

  “Oh!” Annie cried.

  Cole muttered an epithet under his breath and started up the stairs. At the same time, Annie whirled on Melinda, her heart-shaped face twisted in fear for her father. “Here. Please...” She pushed the baby into Melinda’s arms and took off after Cole.

  Upstairs, Cole raced along the landing to the door of his father’s room. He flung it back.

  Preston Yuma lay on the floor, his feet tangled in the cross-braces of the forged aluminum walker he was supposed to be learning to use.

  With a groan, Preston looked up. “Cole.” A stream of nonsense syllables followed. His voice was deep and rumbling, as it had always been. But since the stroke, whenever he was under emotional stress, he often had trouble trying to form words.

  Cole strode to his father’s side and knelt. “Yes, Dad. I’m home.” Carefully he disentangled Preston’s feet from the toppled walker and put it aside.

  “I...heard you,” Preston muttered. “Downstairs.” He drew in and released three deep breaths. Cole waited, knowing his father was forcing himself to relax, so that the words he longed to say would come to him. Finally he whispered, “Did you...b-b-bring Annie with you?”

  Cole gently took his father by the shoulders, supporting him into a sitting position. “She’s with me. And she’s fine.”

  Preston’s eyes closed. “Thank you, dear Lord.”

  “Dad?” It was Annie, standing in the doorway. “Dad?”

  The craggy face seemed to burn bright, suddenly, from within. Annie rushed over. “Oh, Dad...” Tears streamed down her face. “Oh, what’s happened to you?”

  “It’s all right,” Preston said. “It’s all right, Annie girl.” He reached out his left hand, the one that still worked right, and wrapped it around Cole’s arm. “Help me. To my chair.”

  Between them, Cole and Annie put Preston Yuma back into his motorized chair. And then Annie wrapped her arms around his neck and cried against his shirt. “I’m sorry, Dad. So sorry. I never, ever wanted to hurt you. You have to know that.”

  And Preston comforted her, patting her with his good hand, whispering tenderly, “It’s all right. I had a stroke. It’s not your fault. You’re home. And that’s what matters...”

  Cole stood back, letting them have their reunion, feeling better than he’d felt in a long time. Annie was home. She would see that his father took care of himself. And more than that, Preston Yuma would want to take care of himself, now he’d seen with his own eyes that his daughter was safe and well. The depression that had stolen his will to improve would begin to lift now, Cole felt certain.

  In his side vision, Cole saw movement in the door
way behind him. Melinda. With the baby.

  He turned, met her wide violet eyes. Those eyes asked a thousand worried questions at once. So he went to her. He put his arm around her, pulled her and the baby close against his body. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. He looked down into her incredible face and whispered, “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  A tentative smile bloomed on her full lips. “Good. I’m so glad.”

  Then, from across the room, Preston demanded, “Cole. Who’s this?”

  Annie let go of her father and wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “Dad. This is Melinda. She’s my friend. I met her in L.A. and—”

  But the old man lifted his good hand and patted Annie’s arm for silence. “Melinda? A pretty name.”

  Melinda cleared her throat. “Um, thank you. And hello. I’m happy to meet you, Mr. Yuma.”

  Annie tried to speak again. Preston gave his daughter’s arm another pat. “Shh, now.” He turned to Melinda once more. “Come closer, Melinda. Let an old man have a look at you.”

  Melinda stared at the man who looked like Cole thirty years from now, Cole wasted down to sharp bone and burning eyes. She ached for him—and she couldn’t stop herself from shooting a quick, questioning glance at Cole, who immediately squeezed her shoulder. “It’s all right. Go ahead.”

  “Yeah,” said the old man in his rough, rumbling voice. “I won’t bite. Come here to me.”

  So Melinda left the shelter of Cole’s comforting arm. She went and stood before Preston Yuma. He leaned forward a little, studying her. Then the burning eyes shifted to the bundle in her arms. “What do we have here?”

  Behind her, Melinda heard Annie gasp. She started to turn to her, but Preston said, “Please. Let me see.”

  And Annie said nervously, “Yes. Yes, do. Let him see.”

  So Melinda knelt beside the wheelchair and pulled back the blankets to show the old man his new grandson’s face. “This is Brady,” she explained. “He’s just two weeks old, yesterday.”

  The old man sighed. A smile of real pleasure softened the sharp lines of his face.

  “Isn’t he wonderful?” Melinda whispered. “Isn’t he fine?”

  And the old man nodded, made a low, affirmative sound. “Looks just like his daddy.”

  Annie let out another small, shocked cry. And Melinda frowned. She’d been led to believe that the old man could not abide Jimmy Logan. He seemed way too pleased to think his grandson resembled the man.

  Then Preston glanced beyond the baby and the woman who held him, to his son, who remained standing in the doorway. “Nine months ago...”

  “What, Dad?”

  “When you went after Annie that first time. You got up to more than findin’ your sister, I see.”

  Cole stiffened. “I... what?”

  A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped the old man. “It’s all right, son. The Lord forgives. And what man wouldn’t be tempted by such a face as this one.”

  “Dad...” Cole began cautiously.

  The old man spoke gruffly. “No excuses, son. At least I can see that you’ve p-p-put things right.”

  Melinda hastened to correct the misconception. “Oh, no, Mr. Yuma. Cole and I—”

  The old man interrupted with another wave of his good hand. “No need to explain, Melinda. I can see the truth when it’s right before my eyes. Cole is just like I was with his mama. He’s been waitin’ for that one special woman to come along.”

  “Oh, no. You don’t—”

  “Oh, yes. One special woman, the woman the good Lord created just for him. You.”

  Chapter Eleven

  For an endless moment, nobody spoke. In Melinda’s arms, Brady stirred and yawned.

  Melinda looked down at the baby, then back up at the old man. “Mr. Yuma. You’ve mis—”

  Annie placed a hand on her shoulder, cutting her off in midword. “Oh, yes,” Annie said. “Dad has missed us. And we’ve missed him. But now we’re home. Things are gonna be fine. And we better not wear him out too much right now, you know?”

  Melinda craned her head back to frown at her friend. “But, Annie...”

  “What?” Annie said, managing to make the single word both a demand and a plea.

  Melinda looked past Annie, seeking Cole, seeking support for the truth that really had to be told. Unfortunately, though, Cole would not meet her eyes.

  And the old man was reaching out His claw of a hand brushed her fingers, which were spread on the blanket, to support Brady’s slight weight. “Where is your weddin’ ring, Melinda?”

  “I—”

  But the old man was already casting a chiding look at Cole. “Your wife needs a ring, son. Women do set store in tokens of love.”

  Annie rushed forward. “Dad, you really do need a little rest now.” She turned a fiercely cheerful smile on Melinda. “Why don’t you and Brady and Cole go on downstairs? I’ll just help Dad to get comfortable and then I’ll hurry right down.”

  Melinda gaped at her friend. They needed to tell him. There was no point at all in letting him believe this absurd lie.

  “Please,” Annie said, desperation edging her tone. “Go on downstairs. I’ll be right down. And we’ll...take care of everything.” She cast an imploring glance at her brother, who remained in the doorway, infuriatingly silent. “Cole?”

  The sound of his name seemed to spur him to action. He walked over and extended a hand to Melinda. “Come on. Let Dad get some rest.”

  Melinda glared up at him. “But—”

  “Come on,” he said softly. “We can’t handle every little thing all at once, now can we?” He bent, put his hand on her shoulder, and guided her up, careful of the baby. Then he led her out the door.

  Downstairs, he took her to a living room off the central hall. The room had dark, waist-high wainscoting, several big, upholstered chairs, a sofa and a number of cherry-wood tables. A large rug patterned with vines and roses covered most of the hardwood floor. The gray cat must have come in when they did. It was curled in a ball, sound asleep on one of the chairs.

  “Have a seat,” Cole said. “I’ll be right back.” He was already halfway out the door.

  “Cole.”

  He paused in midstep. “Yeah?”

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  His eyes narrowed at her sarcastic tone, but he answered gently, “Just to your car for that playpen thing you bought and Brady’s diaper bag.” He left then, quickly—no doubt to avoid hearing the things she longed to start shouting at him.

  She sat on the sofa with the baby and waited until he returned. Then she waited some more, fuming silently, as he put the bag down beside her and set up the playpen in the middle of the rug.

  “There,” he said. “You can lay him down if you want to.”

  “Oh,” she said very sweetly. “Aren’t you helpful all of a sudden?”

  “Melinda.” It was a reproach.

  She said what she was thinking then. “You lied to your father. Your sister lied and then you...you just stood there.”

  He strode back to the door he’d come through and shut it—no doubt so his father wouldn’t hear what they said to each other. Then he spoke carefully. “It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly.”

  “Not a lie. Hel-looo. To the best of my recollection, you and I are not married. And Brady is Annie’s son, not yours and mine.”

  “I mean that we didn’t lie to him. He was the one who—”

  “Don’t give me that. Yes, your father jumped to the wrong conclusion—and you and your sister lied by not setting him straight.”

  Cole paced to the empty playpen, looked down into it, and then ran his hand back over his hair. “He looked so happy.”

  “Oh, of course. That’s a valid excuse. Your father looked happy when he totally misconstrued the situation. So you let him believe his assumptions were the truth. You lied. lovely. Let’s tell some more lies. Maybe that poor old man will just leap out of his wheelchair and dance ar
ound the room in pure joy.”

  Cole’s month pulled down at the corners and he stuck out his square jaw. “Talk like that isn’t worthy of you, and you know it.”

  “Oh, I see. Now we’re going to talk about worthiness, are we? Then answer me a question. Are lies worthy of you?”

  He dropped to a chair, put his long legs straight out in front of him and stared at his boots.

  She demanded sourly, “Is there something about those boots you haven’t noticed before?”

  He deigned to look at her then. “Listen. I haven’t seen him happy since Annie ran off. And since the stroke, well, he’s sunk into a major depression. But now she’s back. He’s still a stroke victim, but he’s got his dearest wish. And he thinks his second big dream has come true, too. That I would find a wife, and give him a grandchild. When I saw his face up there, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth.”

  His words tugged at her heart. It took all the strength she had to resist them. She spoke flatly, “Well, you’ve only put off the inevitable—and made a difficult situation worse. As soon as he’s rested a while, we’re going to have to explain it all.”

  He pulled his legs in and leaned his elbows on his knees. Now he was looking at the twining rose pattern on the rug between his boots.

  “Cole,” she said impatiently.

  He let out a low groan. “You’re right. I know. And we will tell him.”

  “As soon as he wakes up. Correct?”

  “Yeah. Right. As soon as he wakes up.” He stood.

  She eyed him with suspicion. “Where do you think you’re going now?”

  “To start unloading the trailer and the—”

  “You’re staying right here until Annie comes downstairs. I don’t like this at all and I want it settled. I want all three of us in agreement as to what we’re going to do.”

  “Melinda, there’s a lot to unload. I might as well get—”

  “You might as well sit back down and stare at the rug some more, because if you walk out of this room before Annie gets down here, I am going to march right upstairs myself and lay out the hard facts to that old man up there.”