A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love (Women's Fiction) (23 page)

Chapter 18

Helen wanted to have a heart-to-heart with Charlie that evening, but not until they got her comfortably situated in the hospital bed. She hated being stuck in the middle of the living room, which was the only place the bed would fit without a major rearrangement of furniture. So she had to accept the location, but not the discomfort.

“Higher,” she said.

Charlie pushed the button that raised the head portion of the bed.

“No, that’s too much.”

He lowered it.

“Now it’s too low again.”

He raised it.

“Too high.”

He lowered it.

“Too low.”

“Helen.”

“Just
barely
push the button to raise it.”

He did so . . . too much.

“Oh, forget it. I’ll be dead soon anyway.”

Charlie moved into view, frowning. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Why didn’t we get one of those beds where
you
control the positioning?”

“They ran out of them. Seems January is a popular time to be terminal.”

His smile looked like a reprimand. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She adjusted her blankets for maximum warmth until he returned with one of the dining room chairs and set it next to her bed. He sat and wrapped one of his rough, bear-paw hands around one of hers. “Do you want the TV remote?”

“Not just yet. Charlie?”

“Yes?”

“I want you to know that . . . I’m okay with it now.”

“The bed position?”

“No!
Dying
.”

“Oh.” His jowls dropped like sacks of lead.

She began picking at the nits on the blanket. “I guess I’m not completely okay with it, because there’s still a part of me that doesn’t want to give up hope.” She returned her gaze to his and saw something she hated—pity. “But I know this is it. My time has come. And I’m not afraid, because I know I’m going to heaven.” Saying it out loud made it seem more true somehow.

He squeezed her hand. “Of course you are.”

“And even though I’d like to have a little more time, I’ve had a good, long life. I can’t complain.”

Squeezing her hand again, he said nothing.

“My only regret . . . well, I guess I have two regrets. One is that I won’t see my grandchildren grow into adults. The other is that I didn’t have more time with you.”

His gaze quickly dropped to his lap, and he cleared his throat with a loud rumble. Then he raised his head and blinked hard. “So let’s be grateful for the time we did have. And
still
have.”

She smiled, lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it firmly. “Yes,” she said, despite the strain in her own throat. “Let’s.”

Less than two weeks later, Valerie drove Charlie home from Mom’s funeral. He’d moved in with Mom after they married, but he’d kept his apartment and had already moved back there.

He invited her in for a cup of coffee. The day had been tiring—the service at the church, the graveside service, the meal back at the church—but she didn’t have the heart to say no. She had a warm body to go home to, because Keith had been staying with her since Mom’s death. Charlie faced an empty apartment and a lonely future.

“So what do you think of my ‘pad?’” he asked as she sat at his dining table for two. The apartment was an odd blend of modern fixtures and old furnishings, but it had a cozy feel.

“It’s nice. Did you ever try to talk Mom into moving in here?”

“Oh, yes.” He scooped coffee into the filter-lined basket of his four-cup machine. “But she was wedded to that house, in more ways than one.”

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you this now. She told me she felt very close to your dad there, and she even talked to him.”

“You mean . . . she was delusional?”

“No, no. She knew he wasn’t really there. I don’t think she ever could have told me about it if she actually thought that. She just said staying there and talking to him helped ease her loss. Made her feel more secure.”

“Hmm.”
Why didn’t she ever tell
me
that? Probably because I would have thought she was loony and put her away somewhere.
At least she had Charlie to confide in. “That must have been difficult for you, living there when you knew that.”

He joined her at the table, bracing himself on the tabletop as he eased down into the chair with a huff. “It was a little awkward at first. But by the time I moved in, it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered then was spending as much time with her as I could.”

She nodded. “Rev. Marthaler did a nice job today, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he did.”

“I loved the way he summarized her life. It’s too bad about the acting though. She told me recently that Dad forced her to quit. She wasn’t sorry she had a family, but she wished she could have had both.”

“She talked about that at the party, when we were chatting with that actor, William Danner. She said . . . oh, what was it?” He rubbed his chin. “I remember. When she agreed to be your Brownie Scout leader, you hugged her and said, ‘You’re the best mommy in the world.’ And she told Danner that after that, she had no doubts she’d done the right thing.”

A warm sensation spread throughout Valerie’s chest and her eyes moistened. “Oh, Charlie, I’m so glad to hear that. I’ve always felt sort of guilty that she gave up her career for us.”

“Well, don’t. She made her peace with it, and so can you.” Then his face took on a more serious expression. “There’s something else I want you to know, Valerie.”

Uh-oh. That sounded ominous.

“Even though you and your mom had your differences, especially about her living situation, she very much appreciated all your efforts to care for her.”

Wow
. She hadn’t seen that coming. “Thanks for telling me that. There were definitely times when I wondered.”

“I know. She wasn’t always good at expressing her feelings. But we’ve both seen so many of our friends whose kids just . . .” He shook his head. “Don’t seem to care at all. So even though she didn’t always agree with what you wanted for her, she thanked the good Lord every day that she had you.”

Valerie’s heart blossomed as tears gently slipped from her eyes. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to hear that.”

“Well, shoot.” He pushed himself up from his chair. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He pulled a tissue from a box on the kitchen counter and handed it to her.

“That’s perfectly all right.” She took the tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “I’ve been wondering all day why I couldn’t cry, so it feels good, even if they are tears of joy instead of . . .”

He opened a cupboard and took out cups and saucers with the old Corningware Butterfly Gold pattern. “I was surprised I didn’t cry at the funeral, but I think maybe I’m all cried out.”

“Hmm.” She nodded. “I cried a lot when she was first diagnosed.”

“So did I.” He poured the coffee. “It seemed so unfair. We’d only met a few months before.” The cups and saucers sounded like marbles rattling together as he slowly carried them to the table. “Would you like milk or sugar?”

She marveled at how little had spilled when he finally got them on the table. “Just a splash of milk.”

He got a quart of milk out of the refrigerator, opened it and sniffed. The handlebars of his mustache hiked up as he scrunched his nose. “Uh-oh.”

“That’s okay. I can drink it black.”

He poured the milk down the kitchen drain. “I do have some sugar.”

“This is fine, really.”

After tossing the empty milk carton in the trash, he returned to the table. “I forget what we were talking about.”

“Crying.”

He seated himself and let out a sigh. “Oh, yes. Men aren’t supposed to cry, you know.”

“I know. But I’m glad you told me you did.”

He stared at the coffee in his cup. “I’m angry with God.”

She yearned for the right words to comfort him. “I am, too, sometimes. I remember when my dad died, I felt like the anger was eating me alive. So I finally went to a batting cage and smacked those balls until my arms were killing me.”

A grin relaxed his face. “You always were a good hitter.”

“Thanks to my fabulous high school softball coach.”

“You can only be a good coach if you have good players.”

“You’re being too modest. We lost almost every game the year before they made you the coach, remember? Then when you came on board, we were almost unbeatable.”

His gaze wandered off. “Huh. I’d forgotten all about that.”

“Charlie?”

He looked back at her.

“I know you already have four kids, but I hope I can still be a part of your life.”

His generous nose reddened. “Of course you can.” He blinked rapidly. “I’d like that very much.”

She smiled. “Me, too. Actually, I could already use a little fatherly advice.”

“Oh? On what?”

“It’s about something I have to tell Keith, and . . . it could make or break our relationship.”

About half an hour later, Valerie lumbered from her garage into the mudroom and tugged her boots off. Tired as she was, her nerves pulsed with anticipation of how Keith would react to her news. “Hi,” she called as she entered the kitchen.

“I’m in here,” he answered from the living room.

The scent of burning wood told her he had a fire going. She headed for the coat closet but stopped in her tracks when she entered the living room. There she saw him sitting on the couch with a book, her favorite polar-fleece throw lying next to him, two glasses of wine on the coffee table, and her fuzzy slippers on the floor next to the couch, awaiting her cold and sore feet.

“You are a freakin’ saint.”

“I figured you could use a little pampering tonight.”

“Thank you.” She slipped her coat off as she went to the closet to hang it up. “It hasn’t been all bad, though. I just had a really nice conversation with Charlie.”

“Uh-huh?”

She joined him on the couch and put on her slippers. “He convinced me Mom really did appreciate my efforts to take care of her.”

“Good.” He put his book on the coffee table.

“What are you reading?”

“It’s a book about work, written by a Buddhist woman.”

“Is it good?”

He arched his back and stretched his arms. “Yeah, it is. You know how I sometimes feel like I haven’t lived up to my potential? Well, this book has helped me to realize that I’m already satisfied with what I’m doing now.”

“Hmm. Great.” She covered herself with the throw as she cuddled up to him. “Maybe I should read it so I don’t go off starting a new business every time I get a little bored with the one I already have.”

He nodded. “Why don’t you try the wine? It’s that Pinot noir Russell brought.”

“Oh, I will in a minute. So you got him to the airport on time?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

She laid her head on his shoulder and slid a hand into the warm spot between his upper arm and his trunk. She decided to enjoy the comfort for a few minutes before raising the subject that had her adrenaline pumping. “Thanks again for taking him.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I also want to thank you again for forcing me to reconsider my priorities. You certainly weren’t the first to do it—God knows Mom and Pam and even Greg tried—but for some reason, you were the one who finally got through my thick skull.”

He lifted his arm to put it around her and drew her close. “I can’t take all the credit. Your mom’s illness was a major factor, too.”

The reminder of her mom’s death brought back a heaviness in her chest. “Yes, that’s true. But the old Valerie probably would have kept on working like a dog instead of spending as much time with Mom as possible.” She sighed. “I’m glad I had that time with her. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I hadn’t.”

“Oh, I think you would have done that anyway.” He rubbed her upper arm. “I always knew you were driven more by compassion than anything else.”

She raised her head to look him in the eye. “And how did you know that?”

He shrugged. “Because of the businesses you ran. You could have made much more money doing something that didn’t involve caregiving.”

“Hmm.” She nodded as she returned to her comfy position. “Ain’t that the truth.”
All right, Valerie. Here’s an opening for your news.
Her heart shifted into high gear. She inhaled deeply and jumped in. “There is one thing you don’t know about me, though.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m pregnant.”

She held her breath as his body went rigid. Then he pulled out of the embrace.

“What?”

Oh, God, please let him be as happy about this as I am
. “I’m pregnant. And it’s definitely yours.”

He didn’t seem upset, just shocked. “How far along are you?”

“That’s the good news.”
If you want this baby as much as I do
. “I’m into my second trimester, so the odds of having a miscarriage are much lower. And I’ve already had an ultrasound that found no abnormalities. So at this point, there’s every reason to believe I can carry this child to term. Which is what I intend to do.”