Woman of Substance (22 page)

The rhythm of the beeping heart monitor sped past normal.

“Hold on there,” Mr. Smith said with a stern playful frown. “Jake, come with me and we’ll track down the information we need.”

Jake followed Robbie’s father from the room but turned for one last look at Robbie tied to her bed with tubes and wires and couldn’t help grinning like an idiot.

“Robin, what do you think? Could Jake look after you?”

She’d been called Robin. Her mother was serious. She didn’t call her Robin often. Robbie took some deep breaths and willed her heart to slow down. Visions of Jake spooning consommé into her mouth while she lay naked in a tub would definitely have the alarm bells going off. She concentrated on pleating the sheet. “Of course, but I might not need anyone. I could just crawl under my covers and sleep until you come home and then it will be Christmas. I’m exhausted.”

They heard the men approaching. “Good news,” her dad called. “Your electrolytes are within range. They’ll discharge you after lunch.” Both men were smiling like they just watched the winning touchdown in a Grey Cup game. “I’ve talked to Jake and I’m sure we can trust him Megan.”

“What did the doctor say exactly, and not
you
the doctor, but
my
doctor? Do I really need someone to stay with me?” She sat up straighter, feeling awkward and slightly embarrassed.

“You do if you want your mother to accompany me on this trip.”

“Oh, all right.” She answered as if it wasn’t a big deal but when the heart monitor started to beep faster, she lowered her head. “When do they unhook me from this thing then?”

“Are you sure, honey?” her mother asked.

“I’m sure, Mom. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll take care of her until you get home,” Jake assured them. It was still hard to separate the brown-eyed Robin with the hazel-eyed Robbie, the voluptuous figured woman with the one in front of him now. She deserved to have him wait on her hand and foot. She’d taken time away from her thesis to be with his granddad and even spent time with him. Jake shook his head. How could he have refused to hear her explanation? He owed her big time and more than just the money they agreed upon. “I’ll pack a bag, pick up a few staples, and meet you at home, Robbie.”

She didn’t want to think about Jake staying in her guest bedroom, all kinds of alarms would ring.

After the discharge order was received, Robbie’s mother helped her with her coat and then her mother brought a wheelchair into the room. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. The chair is hospital policy.”

“Then let’s get out of here.” Robbie perched on the vinyl seat.

When her mother balanced the flowers in front of Robbie’s face, she said, “I hope Jake’s causing those rosy cheeks and not a fever.”

“Actually I’m thinking about the state of my bathroom and kitchen and maybe having Jake so close.”

Robbie felt her mom’s hand on her hair, smoothing it as she had done when she was a child. “Take it slow, honey. Some men just have to learn how to fit into another person’s world.”

Maybe Mom had a point. Jake did see how others fit in their worlds so now it was his turn.

When they arrived at her house, she looked fondly toward the park, where Frank used to whisper to the geese. How she missed him already. She shoved the negative thoughts aside. Dwelling on them would change nothing. With her mother’s help, she changed into fresh clothes. Then she filled a bucket of hot water.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her father was at her elbow.

“Dad, you’re the doctor. You know what happens when you have food poisoning.”

“I’ll do it. You go and keep your mother company in the kitchen.” Her father nudged Robbie out of the way. “If you have a relapse, your mom won’t come with me. So do what I say.”

Robbie readily stepped aside while her mother scooped coffee into the filter and set out four mugs. “Perhaps you should have tea. Clear fluids,” her mother said over her shoulder.

“You’re right. I would prefer a cup of mint tea. It’s refreshing.” Robbie searched through her basket of flavored teas while her mother filled the kettle with water to bring to a boil. Robbie leaned against the counter and warmth spread through her tired body. How wonderful was it that her overprotective parents could be here when she was sick? She tugged at the sweatshirt slipping off her shoulder and her thoughts drifted to Jake. She used her sleeve to stop a tear. He wouldn’t ever experience this kind of love from a parent again.

Impulsively she gave her mom a huge hug.

“What’s this for?” her mother asked, surprise in her eyes.

“Thank you,” Robbie said simply. “For being my mom, for being here for me.”

Jake parked the Mustang in front of the house and scrutinized the outside, looking for evidence of the complex woman who had won his grandfather’s heart and was slowly causing his to open. With his duffle bag in one hand and flowers in the other, he rang the doorbell. He was surprised by the woman whose sweatshirt hung on her like drapery. “Robin, Robbie, step back, away from the cold. You look terrible.”

The smile that was there only seconds before disappeared. She looked down and stumbled back toward the hall. He rushed in and almost slammed the door against the winter air. He opened the closet and was met with her sweet, spicy scent. He hung his parka next to Robin’s heavy black coat. Of course both Robin and Robbie had used the same fragrance. He should bang his head against the door. How could he have missed that? His profession was studying and observing people. On a subconscious level he hoped that he
had
noticed, but he’d examine that detail later.

He carried his bag through the small living room with its hardwood floors and set it at the base of the stairs. He followed the sound of voices to the kitchen.

Robin sat with her back to him, the neck of the sweatshirt drooped down exposing one bare shoulder and a fuchsia tank top. Didn’t she have any sweatshirts that fit properly? Of course, it was a Robin sweatshirt versus a Robbie shirt. Had he really told her that she looked terrible? But she did. She looked like a scarecrow with the clothes flapping in a big wind. She could probably fly if a wind came up behind her.

Her mother, Megan, was washing up dishes and pouring coffee into mugs. Someone nudged him from behind.

“Make yourself useful and open the door for me, please,” Ron said as he shouldered his way past Jake. “Megan, Jake’s here. We should get going.”

“Let me finish what you’re doing, Mrs. Smith,” Jake said, approaching her.

“Wish you’d have come just a few minutes earlier, then you could have cleaned up after my daughter,” Doc. Smith said as he held the mop as far away as possible.

“I was going to do it, Dad, but you offered. I was going to do the dishes, Mom, but you just filled the sink.”

Jake watched Robin’s chin tip forward. Then she looked straight at him. “And you told me to get out of the cold and that I look terrible.”

Megan said, “You do look terrible in the old, huge sweatshirt.”

“I was afraid you’d have a relapse,” her father said.

Jake handed Robin the bouquet of spring flowers he’d purchased along with a few groceries that he’d left in the car.

She smiled sweetly. “With these and the flowers Mom and Dad gave me, it’ll look like a funeral parlor in here.”

Jake felt as if he had been kicked in the groin. He turned on his heel. The hanger had his coat in a chokehold and rattled when it hit the ceramic tiled floor. He heard her call. “Jake, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know grief could be like this. One minute he was fine and the next it was as if his granddad had just taken his last breaths all over again.

Robbie dropped the flowers on the table, then unfurled her legs and plowed her feet into her slippers. How could she have been so insensitive?

“Stay where you are. I’ll check on him,” her father said.

“Mom.”

“Your dad’s right.” Her mother rescued the flowers. “Tell me where you keep your vases.”

“Bottom shelf.” Robbie kept her eye on the kitchen door. Why’d she say something so thoughtless?

“I’m not used to being told that I look terrible. How can I be twenty-five years old and a toddler within a few minutes?”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress and you’re having a maturity lesson,” her mother said in her usual counselor voice.

After her parents’ plane took off from the airport, Robbie would tell Jake that he could leave. Until then, she would stay out of his way. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore than she already had.

After Robbie put the vase in the center of the table, she hugged her mother. “Have a great time and don’t worry. Jake will take good care of me.”

“Remember, you’re not too weak to take care of him, too.” Her mother returned her hug squeeze for squeeze. “Our itinerary is in your email.”

They heard the front door close and the men’s voices in the hall.

“I’m going to my room,” she said. “Tell Jake I’ve gone to bed. Give Dad a hug for me.”

She held onto the railing for safety while she hurried up the stairs.

Robbie flipped the comforter back and slipped between the cool sheets. She listened to the steps on the stairs, wondering if Jake was coming up. Her heart raced at the knock, then she heard her father say, “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“Come in,” she said, surprised at how disappointed she felt that it was her father approaching her, not Jake.

Her father sat on the side of her bed. “You’re probably thinking as soon as the wheels of our plane leave the tarmac that you will tell that man to leave. I hope that you reconsider.” He leaned toward and kissed her forehead. Her skin was probably pucker marked from so much kissing.

“I don’t want to keep him from what he needs to do. I don’t even know what he needs to do. As long as he’s out of my way, he can stay.” She couldn’t think about the feelings that she’d had when they were in his hotel room. Was it only last night? That meant one day since Frank was buried. That meant a week since Jake had become an orphan. Her fingers nimbly plucked at the blanket. “How long exactly did my doctor say I needed looking after?”

“As long as it takes,” her father said as he closed the door.

Chapter 17

When Jake opened the refrigerator, he was assaulted by odors from forgotten food items. He stowed the milk, fruit, eggs, and sliced ham. He’d clean up the fridge later.

He heard Doctor Smith’s footsteps. “She’s in bed. Maybe she’ll sleep. Check on her in about an hour. Guest room is at the top of the stairs on the left. She has our itinerary in her email. See you in four days.” He extended his hand for Jake to shake. Their grips were firm. They understood each other. Jake would keep their cherished daughter safe until their return. He could do anything for four days.

He was afraid that he’d find a tiny single bed for the occasional friend who came to stay but the guest bed was hotel size and layered with a plaid comforter and piled with pillows. There were dust bunnies under the dresser but there were good reading lamps on both sides of the bed. In the top drawer, she had packaged toothbrushes, travel-sized toothpaste, and deodorant. She was prepared for overnight company. He gave his head a shake. He’d promised not to make leaps of judgment without consulting her. Besides, if she had an overnight male friend, he’d share
her
bed.

He unpacked his duffle bag and placed his grandfather’s locked box on the floor.

When he walked past her door, he thought he heard her moan. With his ear pressed against the door, he heard the sound again. He knocked. When she didn’t answer, he opened it a crack. She was in bed, with the covers up to her chin, headphones pressed securely on her ears, and watching TV. The sound he’d heard wasn’t discomfort but stifled laughter. He backed out and closed the door. She wasn’t in any danger, but he could be, if his fast breathing and racing heart were any indication. He closed his eyes. All these symptoms were a delayed reaction to his grandfather’s death, Robin’s duplicity, the funeral, Robbie in hospital. These palpitations were well earned. Oh, yes, his name had been cleared, too. He shook his head. Just a few weeks ago, the threat against his reputation seemed so very important.

After returning downstairs, he noticed that the living room and dining room walls were cranberry with a white ceiling. He had noticed this nook, which probably used to house a buffet, when he was here for pizza. It held her computer desk and all the paraphernalia that went with it. He saw her neatly stacked pages of her thesis. If he hadn’t been so self-centered he could have asked her about her thesis. On the mantle were pictures of a full-figured woman posed in a jeweled tunic and jeans, on a lounge in lace baby doll pajamas, and regally posed in a sequence gown. Every photo had Robin’s face superimposed on the body. Who was this woman who didn’t do anything by small measures?

The amber liquid in his glass, warmed by his hand, slid across his tongue and down Jake’s throat. The contents of his grandfather’s box were scattered on the coffee table. They brought back memories of his grandmother reading to him at bedtime, sewing costumes for Halloween, getting up in the night when he had a fever, and supporting his desire to go away to a university. His grumbling stomach forced him to remember the great meals she had cooked from scratch. His grandmother always told him that she loved him no matter what. He hadn’t heard or felt those words in a very long time.

Robin’s call startled him.

Upstairs, Robbie removed her headphones. Where was Jake now? She purposefully covered her ears and turned on the TV so that she wouldn’t hear him moving around. She lay there and wondered what she’d do without her parents if they were suddenly gone from her life. No, she couldn’t think about that now. They were getting on an airplane soon.

“Jake where are you?”

“On the sofa. Feet up. Drinking brandy. Staring at a great log fire.”

“Stay where you are. I’m going to have a bath.”

He walked to the hall and looked up the stairs. She was still in the old gray sweats. “Can I make you some tea?”

She licked her dry lips. “Thanks.”

“I’ll bring it up so you can drink it while you bathe.”

Robbie knelt on the floor and turned the taps, reached round for her favorite bubble bath powder and scooped an extra portion. Even though her hair was greasy and her eyes were less cavernous, she wished for some of her other persona’s fuller face. She looked down at her skinny wrists. She felt like a thirteen-year-old instead of a twenty-five-year-old woman who ran and lifted weights.

She wished Jake would hurry so she could strip out of her sweats and sink into the tub of hot water and wash her hair.

When he tapped at the door, she opened the door part way. The scent of the bath made the air feel more intimate than she expected. She gripped the door handle for support. He appeared with a tray containing a teapot, a china cup, milk and sugar, soda crackers with a dab of butter on a plate, and a jar of jam in one hand and a folding table gripped in the other.

“At your service.”

She giggled.

He stepped into the room and flipped open the folding table, set the tray on it, and backed out into the hall.

Their eyes met. “Would Madame please leave the door unlatched in case Madame has difficulties?”

Her eyes widened. “If sir promises to enter only if he hears a cry for help.”

“I shall stand ready for your cry until you remove yourself from the mass of bubbles.” He bowed and retreated into the hall. She closed the door.

After quickly shedding her clothes, she slid into the tub and felt the water soothe her tired arms and legs. Her shoulders relaxed when she heard the water from the kitchen rattle along the pipes. Jake wasn’t outside the door. She wouldn’t have to stay submerged in the event that he decided to check on her. She plugged the earphones and turned on her tunes. The mint tea was washing over her tongue and soothing her tummy, the jam and soda crackers a reminder of a childhood treat.

After Robin closed the door, Jake listened until he heard her hands slide along the edge as she lowered her body into the water. Then he retreated to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. If he stayed in the vicinity, he might even imagine a cry for help and then he could charge in and pull her from the bubbles and carry her back to her bed.

He climbed the stairs to the bathroom and tapped on the door. “Robbie, I’m going into the living room so if you need me, you’ll have to make a racket.” He heard her singing.
She must be listening to her MP3 player
. Other members at the gym who ran on the treadmill or used the weight machine sang the songs that only they could hear, too. No need for heroics yet. He put the TV on low volume and kept one ear turned toward the stairs and hallway.

Robbie shifted in the tub. The bubbles had dissipated. The tea was cold. Her toes and fingers were like raisins. When she stepped out of the bath water, she wrapped herself in a towel and reached for her robe, which wasn’t on the back of the door.
Shoot
. She’d tossed it into the laundry basket. Could she make it to her bedroom wrapped in a towel? She opened the door a crack, looked both ways, and ran toward her bedroom.

Jake heard running feet nanoseconds before he heard the yelp and crash. When he reached the stairs, Robin was stretched in the hallway, her almost bare ass in the air.

“Robin.”

“Don’t come any closer,” she said, sounding frantic. “Go back to wherever you were. I just need to catch my breath.”

Unable to control herself, Robbie started to quiver and a snort escaped from her lips. What was it with falling with her rear end in the air in front of Proctor men? First, when she met Frank in the park, then Jake on their walk, and now in her own house. Admittedly, she had a few more layers on during the other two falls.

Jake didn’t know if Robbie was laughing or crying. He advanced and retreated until finally he walked to the middle of the stairway and leaned toward the hallway. “Robbie.”

“I was remembering that Frank found me in this same position, then you. What is it with landing with my rear in the air?”

“I’m sure granddad wasn’t looking at the view the same way I am.”

Robbie tucked the towel under her and twisted it tight. “I’m serious, you have to leave. It’s not that comfortable.”

“I promise not to look. Let me help you up.”

“There isn’t enough room.”

“Turn onto your side. Take my hand.”

Robbie twisted onto her side, gripped the towel edges with one hand and extended the other. She looked into his eyes and held them there while he placed her on her feet. His gaze dipped down to her lips and then her chest, her breathing deepened. He crushed her to his chest and she shivered.

“Robin, Robbie, go and put some clothes on you’re shaking. I’ll make more tea and some soup. You’ve got to get strong again.” He set her away from him. She watched him disappear down the stairs where he kept moving toward the kitchen.

Jake paced in the kitchen. He was over thirty and not some erratic, hormonally charged teenager. He could keep his libido under control. He stared at the water rushing into the sink while he held the kettle in his hand. She was just out of hospital. Her parents trusted him.

When he collected the tea tray from the bathroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror and for a flash he saw his grandmother’s smile play across his lips. He thanked her for teaching him how to make a great cup of tea. She said it was the perfect way to think things over. When you brought the cup to your lips, the steam floated past your face and cleared in front of your eyes.

Anthropologists weren’t renowned for their quick action, so he was probably on the right track that gave them both time. He whistled while he made a light lunch because he looked forward to discovering much more about this chameleon who had come into his life a short time ago.

Robbie gathered the towel above her knees and walked carefully into her room. She shivered but her core was hot, her breasts heavy. She wanted to feel Jake’s lips on hers and have his arms pull her to his chest. She had been mesmerized by the pulse in his neck. Where were they in this relationship? Jake had been ready to cross the physical line last night, but he was still grieving. She was ill. She dressed in her jeans and periwinkle blue long sleeve sweater, recalling he liked her in this shade of blue when they’d first met at the university. She had felt a connection then. He cared about her well-being. Would he still find her attractive and worthy of his attention now that he knew who she really was?