The Proposal at Siesta Key (13 page)

F
eeling awkward, Penny followed the doctor down a wide hallway filled with all sorts of metal carts and empty gurneys, as well as several orderlies and nurses who were standing next to complicated-looking equipment. More than one nurse looked up as they passed, greeting the surgeon and sending an encouraging smile Penny's way.

After turning a corner, the doctor pulled back a white curtain. “Here we are, Penny. Why don't you take a seat. Michael looks like he's drifted back to sleep, but he should be waking up again in a few minutes.”

Before she could ask any questions, Penny was alone with Michael. She was secretly pleased he wasn't staring at her at the moment because she needed some time to settle down. The patients, the carts, the smells, the tubes, and machines and noise . . . it had all been a little frightening. Furthermore, she was still trying to figure out why Michael had asked for her. Had he, too, sensed that something important was happening between the two of them?

Or was he simply asking for her because he had no one else to turn to?

These questions spun in her head as she crossed the room to his side, each step feeling like a huge distance instead of mere inches. When she got to the side of his bed, he opened his eyes.

“Hi,” she said, wishing she had some interesting comment or amusing quip to utter. But seeing him in the hospital bed, surrounded by machines and attached to wires and cords, that one word was the best she could come up with.

His eyes warmed. Seconds later, his lips turned up in a smile.

That small response was all she needed to pull over one of the hard plastic chairs that lined the wall. And when he reached for her hand, she held his.

Then it became a matter of simply following directions: When the nurses asked her to step back into the waiting room so he could leave recovery and get settled into a regular room, she returned to Beverly's side.

An hour later, a nurse came to get her again.

As she stood up, Beverly told her that she and Eric were going back to the inn and to call when she needed to be picked up.

Penny nodded, though she was already thinking about Michael. This time, she accompanied a nurse into the elevator, down a long hallway on the third floor, and at last to a doorway on the right. When she peeked inside, Michael looked much better. He was sitting up and sipping on juice, and he stared at the door as it opened.

“Here you are. I was wondering if someone had forgotten to bring you.” His lips twitched, as if he were thinking about a secret joke. “Or that maybe you had left.”

“I wouldn't have left without telling you,” she said in a rush.

Then she realized he'd been teasing. “You shouldn't tease me, you know. I've been worried about you. I'm glad the surgery went okay.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly as much of the humor lighting his eyes fled. “You were worried about me?”

“Of course I was.” Unable to help herself, she leaned close. “Michael, how are you? Are you in much pain?”

He held up a hand, which was decorated with tape and gauze and an intravenous tube. “These tubes are taking care of the worst of it.”

“I'm glad about that. The doctors said you did
gut
.”

“They told me the same thing.” He looked down at his right leg. “They seem to think I'll heal quickly. I hope so.”

She looked around the room. “Where is your prosthesis?” She stumbled on the word, it was so unfamiliar, but she was glad she'd said the proper term.

“It's with a technician. They're going to adjust it or simply order me a new one.”

“So, you'll be without it for a time.”

A new, guarded look entered his eyes. “Will that make you uncomfortable?”

“Why would you think that?” She really had no idea what he was talking about.

“Some people can't handle looking at my leg like this.” When she frowned, he said, “It, um, makes my disability seem more real, I think.”

“But it's you,” she protested. Furthermore, she didn't consider him disabled in the slightest.

Looking down at his lower thigh and knee, covered in bandages, he frowned. “It's imperfect.”

“We are all imperfect, Michael.” Gazing down at the part of the hospital bed where the lower portion of his leg would've been if he hadn't lost it, a variety of emotions filtered through her. But none of them had anything to do with feeling uncomfortable
about him not having a right foot. “I don't understand how people would feel that way.”

“It's unsettling. And weak, I suppose. Men like to feel as if they can handle anything. A man with only a leg and a half? Well, it shows that I am not invincible.”

“I'm not either.” Because she was a woman, because she supposed most men would laugh at her bravado, she lifted her chin, practically daring him to make fun of her.

“You are strong, though.”

“Not as strong as I'd like to be, but I'm getting stronger every day.”

“Penny, I thought a lot about your sister last night when I was trying to go to sleep. I thought about her this morning when I was waiting for surgery, too.”

“I appreciate that, but you should have been thinking about yourself.”

“I hope you know that I am sorry for your loss,” he said, basically ignoring her protest.

“
Danke
. But, if you don't mind, can we talk of something else? I mean, we've already spoken of Lissy.”

“That we did. Well, since you're stuck here with me, want to play cards?”

That was definitely not what she'd expected to hear. “You feel that well?”

“I think so. If I'm not, I guess we'll find that out,” he said. “Do you know any card games?”

“A couple.”

“Are you any good at them?”

Enjoying their lighthearted banter, she teased, “It depends what game you want to play.”

“Uno?”

“I doubt there are any Uno cards around.” She glanced at the deck of cards on his nightstand. “Gin rummy?”

“You know how to play that?”

“I do.” She hoped she looked more humble than she felt. She was actually very good at cards.

He waved a hand. “Uh-oh. You picked the wrong game, Penny.”

“Is that right?”

“Absolutely. Because it just so happens that I'm the gin rummy champion of my family.” He waggled his eyebrows.

She had a hard time not laughing. “That's just as I suspected. You have not an ounce of modesty.”

“It's not bragging if it's the truth.”

“You're not being modest if you are bringing your accolades up in conversation.”

He smiled, making little fans form at the corners of his eyes. “I knew asking you to be here was a good idea, Penny. I've hardly felt any pain the last couple of minutes.”

“Glad I could help.” Meeting his gaze, she smiled back at him. Part of her wanted to tell him that his company was just as beneficial to her.

It was ironic, but when she was with him, she felt more like herself. The more they got to know each other, the more she relaxed. So much so, she was beginning to feel as if she'd only discovered who she was once she was in his company.

Leaning over, she grabbed the deck of cards and started shuffling them. “Because you are slightly out of it, I'm going to give you a break.”

“How so?”

“I'm shuffling, dealing, and keeping score.”

An eyebrow rose. “That's it?”

“You're weak, you know. So, do you trust me?”

“Absolutely, Pen.”

She paused, swallowing, and realized that for all their banter, neither had been more serious. He trusted her to keep score and help him ignore his pain.

As for her, she trusted him with, well, everything.

“W
ANT TO GO OUT
for ice cream?” Eric asked Beverly, as if their going out for dessert was a common occurrence.

They'd just returned to the inn. The moment they'd arrived, Tricia had announced that she was going to go upstairs and take a shower and read her book.

Beverly had been about to tell Eric that she'd see him later, sure he was ready to take a break after spending most of the day at the hospital. She knew she was going to be running around the inn for the next couple of hours since they'd been gone for most of the day.

“Um. Well, I don't know.”

“You don't know? What's not to know?”

She shrugged. “I kind of feel like I should stay around here.”

“Why?”

“You know why. And if you don't, you should.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Well, when you run an inn, there's always work to do, you see. I'm sure I've got dishes to do and lists to write. Then I need to check the reservations. And probably make sure Tricia is actually all right.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Those are all good reasons to stay here. But why don't you ignore them and come get ice cream anyway?”

“Eric . . .” She was desperately attempting to keep their relationship professional.

Eric, on the other hand, seemed just as determined to turn them into friends. “Come on, Bev. I know you're thinking about it.”

“The last thing I need is to be eating ice cream.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “We both need this. You know it.”

“Oh, all right.”

He smiled. “I was hoping you would give in gracefully. Come on,” he added before she could think of a good, scathing retort.

Dutifully, she followed. “Want to go to Olaf's?”

“That's the only place around, right?” he asked as he held the front door open for her and then started walking down the steps.

“It's not the only place, but it's the best place.”

“I'll remember to use that description with future guests.”

The thought of them working together, maybe even eventually greeting guests together, sent a little shiver through her.

When they reached the bottom of the porch steps, Eric turned to her. “So, do we go left now?”

“Right.”

An eyebrow quirked. “Right, we go left?”

“Right, we go right,” she said around a giggle.

He returned her smile as they turned right and started down the sidewalk. It was after six o'clock, suppertime for most people. Consequently, the area was far emptier than usual. It allowed her to pay more attention to the man beside her.

It was becoming obvious that they were never going to be able to maintain only a professional relationship. Maybe that was for the best, after all. They would be able to get along better in the long term if there was more between them than just the fact that he was her new boss.

“How are you liking Pinecraft now?” she asked, attempting
to steer their conversation back toward something safer for her heart, back to the proper tone between employee and employer. “Is it feeling more familiar?”

“In some ways it does. But then today, when we were at the hospital, it felt like we could be anywhere in America.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“It confuses me, I guess. I keep feeling like everything should be all Amish, all the time.”

“The hospital was in Sarasota. Pinecraft is just a part of the city. The Amish enjoy good medical care as much as anyone else, you know.”

“That makes sense.” He nodded. “But then, when we walk down these streets, it seems like almost everyone is wearing a
kapp
or a hat. And the pace is slower.” He shrugged. “I like it, though.”

“I'm glad.” To her surprise, she realized that she meant what she said. She'd noticed his interest in the brightly painted bicycles so many Amish rode, the abundant flowers on nearly every corner, and even the almost daily gathering to meet the Pioneer Trails buses. She was glad he was happy to be here. “We should probably talk about what happens next, Eric.”

“We should. But not now.”

The ice cream store loomed in the distance. As usual, there was a crowd of people standing around its entrance. Teenaged girls, some in traditional dresses and
kapps
, some in short shorts and tank tops, were standing in groups of two and three. Boys were doing the same thing.

Sitting on the neighboring benches were younger children and older folks. All were eating ice cream cones with obvious enjoyment.

“Actually, I can't think of a better time. I'm not busy with
guests and you're not preparing to meet with lawyers. No one else is around to interrupt. It's perfect.”

“It's a perfect time to relax, Bev. And it's important, too. We're spending time together.”

His comment took her aback, mainly because she'd just been thinking that very same thing. So why was she attempting to direct things back to business? “We are, but—”

He cut her off. “No buts,” he said, softening his words with a smile. “Beverly, we're getting to know each other. That's important, too, I think. I want to get to know you.”

When was the last time a man had said such things to her? Had it been Marvin? Had it really been that long? Was that why another small shiver just rushed through her at his words?

It made her uncomfortable. And embarrassed! The last thing they needed was for her to imagine that there was something of a romantic nature brewing between them. “How is your girlfriend?”

He blinked. “What?”

“What was her name? Annie?”

“It's Amy. And she's fine. Thank you for asking.”

Was it her imagination or had he really just retreated into himself? “Is she going to move down here to Sarasota?”

“I hope so.” He didn't smile though. Instead, he looked a little irritated. “What kind of ice cream is the best?”

“What?”

He waved at the line of people practically snaking around them. “We're here. What kind do you usually get?”

Strawberry was her favorite. Usually she could wax poetic about Olaf's ice cream and exactly why she enjoyed strawberry so much, but she'd ruined his mood. It was obvious the enjoyment he'd felt about their short excursion had come and gone.