A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love (Women's Fiction) (16 page)

“No. He might stay that late.”

Valerie’s mouth dropped open like a nutcracker.

“Close your mouth, dear. There may be flies in the house.”

When Valerie arrived at Pam and Wanda’s place, she found Pam weeding her front garden, even though darkness loomed and the crickets and cicadas had begun their nightly symphony.

“How can you tell the weeds from the flowers?” Valerie asked as she cautiously seated herself on the porch steps, mindful of the need to get up later without putting too much weight on her newly uncasted leg.

“At this point, I don’t care if there’s some collateral damage.” Pam ripped things out of the ground with the precision of a bulldozer. “It’s been weeks since I’ve weeded, and it’s driving me nuts.” Sweat glistened on her skin despite the relative coolness of the early September evening.

“Well, you have been kind of busy. How’s your mom doing?”

Pausing and wiping her brow with her forearm, Pam said, “Bitch, bitch, bitch. The food, the nurses, the guy who picks his nose at the dinner table. Shall I go on?”

“I think I get the picture. My mom will probably be the same way, initially at least. I can’t even get her to look at one of the places, let alone seriously consider moving into one.”

Pam resumed weeding. “So did you confront her about the burner thing?”

“Yes. She thinks I’m exaggerating the danger, and that I’m trying to push her into assisted living just because your mom went in.”

“They just won’t listen to reason, will they?” Pam stopped and wiped her brow with the other arm. “I can’t help thinking that if my mom had already been in assisted living, they would have caught her stroke earlier and the damage could have been much less severe.”

Valerie knew better than most that Pam had done everything in her power to care for her mom. “Don’t beat yourself up. She knew the risks of living alone, and that was the choice she made.”

Pam’s mouth twisted into a frown of frustration. “I’m not sure she really did understand. And I hate to see your mom make the same mistake.”

“Me, too. But I can’t force her.”

“I don’t think you should give up, though. Think about it this way: When you were a kid, what if your mom had given in to all your childish whims? Sometimes a parent has to be the bad guy in order to be a good parent. And vice versa. Sometimes the child has to be the bad guy to be a good child. Right?”

“Oh, Jesus.” Valerie rubbed the back of her neck and stretched it. “I finally get to be a mom, but my child is my own mother. Where’s the justice in that?”

Pam snorted and tossed a handful of weeds onto her growing pile. “Welcome to my world.”

Poor Pam. If only Valerie could give her a bonus and some time off for a much-deserved getaway. But such luxuries would have to wait. “At least I got her to agree to have someone check on her every day. And when I can’t do it, she insisted on having Keith do it.”

“What?” Pam halted her weeding. “Didn’t she just fire Keith?”

“Yep. But once I started pushing the assisted living, I think she saw Keith as the lesser of two evils.”

“Holy cow. All that rigmarole and you ended up right back where you started.”

“Actually, I did gain something. The last time I suggested having someone check on her every day, she said that was ridiculous. So I’ve made some progress. Plus, I found out that my dad cheated on her, and that she’s sleeping with Charlie.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Pam held up her hands. “One shocker at a time. Your dad cheated on her? I thought he was, like, Mr. Perfect Family Man.”

“So did I. So she decided it was time to set me straight. Apparently he fooled around with some of the cashiers at his grocery stores.”

“Damn.” Pam went back to weeding, tugging with more vigor. “He was one of the few decent men I knew. Another myth bites the dust.”

“Well, not entirely.” A buzz drew Valerie’s gaze to her ankle, where a mosquito threatened her until she whisked it away. “Mom chose to stay with him, and apparently he quit doing it. Their marriage was pretty good in the end, which is one of the reasons she doesn’t want to leave the house. She feels closer to him there.” She paused. “You know, it just occurred to me that it’s kind of weird she could sleep with Charlie in that house if she feels . . .”

“Close to your dad there?” Pam straightened up. “You’re right. It doesn’t compute. She’s just using that as an excuse. They’ll come up with all kinds of them.”

“Hmm.” Valerie nodded. “But I have to admit, I can’t really blame her. When you’ve been in a house that long, I suppose it does sort of become a part of you.”

“Yeah. All the memories with the kids and everything. It’s tough. But in the end, it’s just a piece of real estate.”

Did Pam really believe that? Or was she just trying to convince herself of that because she was in the process of selling her own childhood home?

Pam slapped her arm and checked to see if she’d nabbed the bug. “That’s it. When the skeeters start biting, I’m done. Let’s go in and have a beer.”

“Do you have any wine?” Valerie asked as she followed her into the house.

“I’ll have to check with my sommelier. Wanda!”

“What?” Wanda answered from the living room just a few steps away.

“Oh,” Pam said. “I didn’t realize you were right here. Do we have any wine?”

“Hi, Valerie. Yes, there’s a bottle of Pinot Noir on the kitchen counter. I just opened it Saturday.”

“Great. You wanna join us?” Pam asked.

“No, thanks. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help hearing your conversation, and I have a feeling the next topic is going to be senior sex.”

Valerie and Pam exchanged glances and laughed.

“You nosey wench,” Pam said. “Maybe you could learn something.”

“I’m sure you’ll teach me when the time comes.”

“Not if I’m too senile to remember.” Pam led Valerie into the kitchen and got a wineglass out of the cupboard. “I suppose I shouldn’t be so shocked about your mom and Charlie. Does that make me ageist?”

Valerie sat at the kitchen table. “No. It makes you normal.”

Pam handed her the glass of wine. “At least Charlie can be sure she’s not jailbait.”

Valerie chuckled. “I was thinking I could get her some Viagra as a stocking stuffer.”

“Better throw in a defibrillator, too.” Pam got a beer out of the fridge.

“Oh, shit. What if Charlie has a heart attack while he’s on top of her and crushes her?”

Pam sat down with her bottle of beer. “Brings a whole new meaning to safe sex, doesn’t it?”

“God, we’re terrible.”

Pam held her beer up for a toast. “Here’s to having a sense of humor about subjects too . . . unsavory to contemplate.”

“I know what you mean. Still, I think it’s kind of cool that they’re doing it.”

“Yeah, you do have to give them credit. I’m not sure I’ll have enough energy to roll out of bed when I’m their age, let alone a roll in the hay.” Pam took a swig of her beer. “Speaking of old people having sex, how are things going with ‘Golden Boy’?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Valerie held her hands up just as Pam had earlier. “I’m not sure which insult to respond to first, ‘old people’ or ‘Golden Boy.’”

“What’s wrong with ‘Golden Boy?’ It’s a term of endearment.”

“You make it sound like I’m robbing the cradle.”

“I think Freud would say that’s your own guilt speaking.”

“Since when are you a Freudian psychologist?”

“I’m not. But it sounded good, didn’t it? Seriously, how are things going with Keith?”

Valerie took a sip of her wine. “If you’re asking me whether we’ve taken the beef bus to tuna town, the answer is ‘yes.’”

A gust of laughter shot out of Pam’s mouth. “You sure are a fast worker.”

“You’re the one who told me to go for it.”

“I did.
Brava
, Valerie. But let’s park the beef bus for a moment and talk about where the relationship is headed.”

A deep longing tugged at Valerie’s heart, but her head brushed it aside. “I don’t have a clue. I sometimes feel like he’s trying too hard to convince me he’s serious about having a relationship.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Is it?
“I don’t know. I still have difficulty believing he’d want to get serious with someone my age.”

“You’re only about ten years older than he is.”

“I know, but look at him. There must be all kinds of younger women who’d be interested in him.”

“Yes, and look at you. There must be all kinds of older men who’d be interested in you. Men with far more money and social status. I really think you’re selling yourself short.”

Was she? “How would I know? I’ve been out of the game for so long, I feel like I don’t know how to read someone’s intentions.”

“What do you mean? You don’t think he’s being honest about wanting to get serious?”

Valerie shrugged. “I’m just not sure.”

“Hmm.” Pam crossed her arms and stared off into space, and Valerie could tell she’d gone into her how-can-we-solve-this mode.

“Uh-oh. What are you thinking?”

Pam’s eyes widened. “I know. Why don’t we go on a double date? Then Wanda and I can observe how he acts with you.”

Hmm. It seemed like a good idea, and it might even be fun. “All right. But if you want to install one of those two-way mirrors in my bedroom, that’s where I draw the line.”

“Please.” Pam held her hands up in a defensive position. “I thought I made it clear that old heterosexuals doin’ the nasty is not my thing.”

“That’s it, you’re fired.”

“Good. That’ll give me plenty of time to plan ‘Operation Observation.’”

Oh, shit. What have I gotten myself into this time?

Chapter 13

“You’re the hottest doll here,” Charlie whispered into Helen’s ear.

She giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment, even though my competition isn’t very stiff.”

Glancing around at the other women on the dance floor, as well as those not dancing, Helen had to agree that few of the Interchurch Seniors Dance attendees offered much to attract the opposite sex, even though some were younger than she.

The band, aptly named The Golden Oldies, finished the song and announced they’d be taking a break, their second that hour.

Charlie huffed. “Jiminy Crickets, those guys take more breaks than an orthopaedic surgeon.”

“Let’s get some punch and go outside for a while,” she said. “The smell of mothballs in here is making me nauseous.”

“I noticed that, too.” He crinkled his nose as they headed for the punch. “What do you suppose it’s from?”

She cupped a hand close to his ear and spoke quietly. “From a bunch of old ladies who just dug out their party clothes for the first time this millennium.”

He laughed loudly and then covered his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” asked Helen’s friend, Lorraine, who was running the refreshment table.

“Oh, nothing.” Helen picked up a cup. “We were just wondering if you had spiked the punch yet.”

Lorraine beckoned Helen with her index finger, lifted the skirt surrounding the refreshment table, and pointed to a bottle of Everclear on the floor.

“
Lorraine
!” Helen’s voice was hushed but sharp. “That’s too dangerous for some of these old folks.”

“I know that,” Lorraine said indignantly. “I didn’t put it in the bowl. I’m just offering it to my friends who I know can handle it.”

“Oh,” Helen said. “Well, in that case, I’ll take just a little in mine.”

Lorraine cased the joint like an international spy before pouring a thimbleful into Helen’s cup.

“Me, too.” Charlie held out his cup as eagerly as a teenager about to get a nip from a stolen bottle of wine. When he saw how much Lorraine poured into his cup, he said, “Oh, come on. You know I’m not driving.”

She poured in a little more. “Now scat, you rascals.” Lorraine winked at Helen, who whispered, “Thanks.”

Charlie led Helen out to the patio, which they had to themselves.

“Ooh, it’s already much colder.” She tried to button her sweater with one hand but found it impossible. He pulled out a chair for her at one of the patio tables. “Thank you, kind sir.” She was grateful to have a chance to get off her low heels. The ankle she’d sprained was throbbing a bit, too.

“Ahhh.” He settled into another chair. “I like to dance, but my feet don’t always agree.”

A spark of affection kindled in her heart. She loved the way he made light of his human frailties. “You should try doing it in heels.”

“No, thanks. I don’t know why you feel like you have to wear those.”

“It goes back to my theater days.” She slipped off her left shoe and began rubbing the ball of her foot. “I once had a director who said, ‘Every woman looks more graceful in heels.’”

“And if he’d said every woman looked better naked, would you have taken your clothes off?”

“I might have. I was very impressionable in those days.”

“Shucks.” He snapped his fingers. “Wish I’d known you back then.”

“Oh, I had big plans. My acting career was going beautifully, I was getting plum roles with the biggest Chicago theater companies . . .” She sighed. “I thought for certain I was Broadway bound.”

“But you weren’t?”

She shook her head. “I met Stanley, and like a lot of young women in those days, I got swept up in the mad rush to get married and start a family.”

He nodded, then paused a beat. “Did you ever regret that decision?”

“Sometimes. I’ve often wondered, what if I
had
gone to New York? Would I have made it? Who knows? Maybe I didn’t have enough self-confidence, and maybe that’s why I made the choices I did. But I knew for certain I wanted children. It took us a while to have them, but I was thrilled when we did.”

“Speaking of kids, has Valerie said anything more to you about the assisted living stuff?”

“No, thank heavens. I think I put that to rest. But it’s just a matter of time before she starts harping on me again. I know my daughter, and she’s nothing if not persistent.”

He shifted in his seat. “I think I may have a solution to that problem.”

“You do? I’d love to hear it.”

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. “Why don’t you move in with me?”

Had she heard him right? “Did you say . . . move in with you?”

“Yes.” His eyes were wide and earnest.

“But you know I don’t want to leave my house.”

“I understand that. I felt the same way about my house. But yours is such a big old place, and it’s going to get harder and harder to keep it up.”

Good Lord, was this Charlie talking?
Her
Charlie? “You sound like you’re on her side.”

“No, no, no. I’m suggesting a compromise that will keep you out of one of those places, and, well, it would make me very happy to have you living with me.”

So it would placate Valerie and make him happy. But what about what
she
wanted? “No, Charlie. I’m happy in my house and I want to stay there.”

He sat back in his chair. “Don’t you like my apartment?”

She thought of his tidy little one-bedroom unit in a high-rise with all of the modern amenities. It was nice, as such places went. But . . . “Even if it were the Taj Mahal, I wouldn’t want to live there. It just wouldn’t feel like home—
my
home.”

He rubbed his chin, then his eyes widened. “Maybe we could get a different place, one that you could decorate yourself. I’d let you have complete control.”

He was trying so hard, she couldn’t help but smile. “You’re just not listening to me, Charlie. I love my house, hassles and all, and I’m determined to stay there as long as I possibly can.” She wished she could be completely honest with him about her reasons, but she simply couldn’t. Besides, a woman had a right to some privacy, didn’t she?

Crossing his arms, he frowned. “I guess the truth is you just don’t want to live with me.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that I’m happy with the way things are.” Oh, Lord, did he want her to invite him to move in with her? She’d felt queasy enough the one night he stayed over. She couldn’t imagine having him there all the time.

“Wait a minute.” He uncrossed his arms and his face blossomed. “You don’t want to live in sin! Of course, what was I thinking? Do you want to get married? I’d be happy to get married.”

As proposals went, it had about as much romance as a root canal. But she understood his intentions were honorable, even if he had gone about things in a backward way. She cared for him, and their relationship had been exciting, but she wasn’t sure it was love. On the other hand, she didn’t want to lose him. Perhaps it was love, only a gentler, less-intense kind of love. Still . . . Oh, things had been going so well. Why did he have to throw a hammer in the works?

He watched her intently, waiting for a response.

“There’s no man in the world I’d want to marry more than you, Charlie. But I don’t want to get married.” A scowl descended on his face, and she realized she needed to do some damage control. She leaned toward him. “We have such a nice arrangement with the way things are, don’t you think? We enjoy each other’s company, but we still have our own homes and our private time as well. Wouldn’t you miss that?”

He didn’t seem the least bit mollified. “No, or I wouldn’t have asked you to move in with me. I’ve got too much alone time. I’m not saying we’d have to be joined at the hip. But I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to have every meal with you. I want to be together most of the time, not just some of the time.”

Good heavens, he truly did want a wife! How could she not have seen this coming? Had she been so selfish that she completely tuned out his needs and desires? A heaviness in her chest threatened to cause reflux. He had made his position clear, and as much as she hated to jeopardize what they had, she still couldn’t bring herself to give up her home—and Stanley. “Please, Charlie. Don’t pressure me on this.”

Glowering, he finished his drink, rocked a couple of times in his chair to gain momentum, then stood. “We may as well call the cab. I don’t feel like dancing anymore.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she held them back. The knot in her throat made speech impossible. She’d never seen him so angry. Would it pass? Or, heaven forbid, was their relationship over?

Valerie scooted a little closer to her kitchen table as Wanda took the top game card on the pile and read it. Valerie admired Wanda’s short, but neatly manicured, pale-pink nails. How could a plumber maintain such beautiful nails?

“Ooh, this is a good one,” Wanda said. “Whose turn is it to answer?”

“Keith’s,” Pam said.

Wanda turned to Keith, who sat to her left. “You see your best friend at a nightclub getting cozy with someone other than his or her spouse,” she read. “You: A. Tell your friend to cut it out and go home; B. Say ‘What the heck?’ and join the party; C. Turn around and leave, you’ve got enough problems of your own; or D. Give your friend a chance to explain, because looks can be deceiving.”

Valerie had figured out that Keith played the game in a pretty straightforward fashion, so she discreetly wrote D on her little sheet of paper and turned it over.

“Ready?” asked Keith, who sat on the opposite side of the table from Valerie. She nodded. “Okay, D.”

“Yes!” Valerie raised the paper and triumphantly showed her response to Pam and Wanda while giving Keith a thumbs-up. “That’s one more point for us.”

Pam marked it on the score sheet. “That one was too easy.”

“You’re just jealous because we’re beating the pants off of you.” Valerie took a sip of her chocolate martini.

Pam picked up her beer. “I think this game is rigged.”

“It’s your game!” Valerie wailed.

“Oh, yeah.” Pam looked at Wanda. “I think we rigged it the wrong way.”

“What kind of person would rig a game called ‘Ethics?’” Wanda asked.

“A winner,” Pam said.

“All right,” said Keith, who had already picked up the next card. “Here’s your chance to catch up.” He turned to Pam. “You’re putting away laundry in your 16-year-old daughter’s bedroom when you discover she’s been keeping a diary. You: A. Read it, like any good parent would; B. Leave it alone, since you respect her privacy; C. Wait until your spouse comes home so you can discuss it with him or her; or D. Sell it to the highest bidder. Your daughter could be the next Bridget Jones.”

Wanda peered at Pam, shook her head, wrote her answer, and turned the paper over.

“D,” Pam said.

Wanda’s shoulders drooped. “Pam!”

“What?”

Wanda flipped her piece of paper, which said ‘A’. “You know you’d read it. You’d say it’s ‘proactive parenting.’”

“But you know I loved
Bridget Jones
. You’re supposed to answer what you
think
I would answer, not what you think I would actually do.”

Wanda balled up her piece of paper and threw it at Pam, who blocked it with her hand.

“See the abuse I have to put up with?” Pam asked as she picked up the next card. “Okay, Valerie: You buy an instant lottery ticket and win $100. Since you and your spouse share all earnings fifty-fifty, it technically belongs to both of you. You: A. Call your spouse with the good news and decide jointly how to spend it; B. Spend it on that special item you’ve been wanting so badly, since you were the lucky one, after all; C. Tear up the ticket because you can’t bear these ethical dilemmas; or D. Buy a lovely gift for your spouse and surprise him or her.”

Valerie waited for Keith to turn over his answer before she said: “A.”

He grimaced. “Oh, no!” Then he grinned and revealed his answer: ‘A’.

“Yahoo!” Valerie shot a fist into the air.

“You’re a couple of goddamned goody two-shoes.” Pam recorded their point and slapped the pen down on the score sheet. “That’s it, you win.”

“We won? Woohoo!” Valerie got up and ran around the table to Keith and high-fived him with both hands. “You guys have been together for, what, 15 years? You should have creamed us.”

“We
let
you win because it was your first time playing,” Pam said.

Valerie returned to her seat. “Well, thank you both for being so kind to us newbies.”

Pam finished her beer and stood. “Speaking of newbies, you two would probably rather be having sex than playing with us, so we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Oh, no, don’t leave,” Valerie said. “Don’t you want to even the score?”

“Only people with low self-esteem need to even the score.” Pam gathered the game materials into the box. “But seriously, we’re meeting some friends for breakfast tomorrow, so we need to hit the hay.”

They all made their way to the front door, and Valerie opened it for them. “Well, thanks for coming, and for bringing the game.”

“And thank you for dinner.” Pam pointed at Keith. “Now you take it easy on her. She doesn’t need any more broken bones.”

Valerie and Keith chuckled, and he flushed. “Scout’s honor,” he said with a salute.

Pam returned the salute. “You kids have fun.”

They all said goodbye, and just before Pam slipped out the door, she looked Valerie straight in the eye, gave her a little thumbs-up and winked.