Every Girl Gets Confused (15 page)

Nadia's carefully plucked eyebrows elevated. “Are you saying we're going to have to pray the Spurs into the playoffs so the father of the bride will come to his senses?”

“Won't take much,” Madge said. “I mean, the Spurs are a great team. They're probably going to be in the playoffs anyway. But you didn't hear that from me, okay? I mean, around here it's the Mavericks all the way.”

“Madge, are you telling me you're a closet Spurs fan?” I couldn't help the words—they slipped right out.

Brady stirred and Madge put her finger over her lips to keep me from saying more. I leaned down to give him a kiss
on the forehead. He let out a little whimpering sound and I wondered if he was in pain.

“We're here, honey.” Nadia swept in on my left. She brushed the back of her hand along his cheek.

He put his hand on his stomach and groaned.

“Are you sick?” I asked.

He nodded and I passed the little plastic container his way as Nadia pressed the button for a nurse. Seconds later he emptied his stomach once again, right as the nurse entered the room.

“It's just the medicine making you feel sick,” she said. “Nothing to be worried about, I promise.”

I turned the other way as she tended to him, unable to watch him in pain.

I'd seen Brady James in action on the basketball court.

I'd seen him take charge of the bridal shop.

I'd even seen him impress his fans with kind words and actions.

But I'd never seen him in such a vulnerable position as this. And I hoped—no, I prayed—I never would again.

When I was a teeny little girl, I was in dancing school, and I sang. We had to put a dance to a song, so I went to the 10-cent store one day and looked at all the sheet music. It was all laid out, and I picked “Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries.”

Doris Day

T
he days following Brady's surgery turned out to be a little more complicated than anyone had predicted. An unexpected infection in the surgical site required antibiotics and special care. On the third day he was released from the hospital and would've headed back to his condo, but the second-floor bedroom made that out of the question. The bedrooms at his mother's place were all upstairs too. Nadia
couldn't seem to stop fretting over it. She wanted desperately to play a role in his recovery, but with this complication, how could she?

There was only one logical place for the guy to heal: at the home I shared with Aunt Alva. Her place was one story with several available bedrooms. And she couldn't wait to assume the role of hostess and nurse. I secretly wondered how I could balance caring for him with my workload at the shop. With the bridal extravaganza coming up in less than a week, I had my hands full. Nadia agreed to spend every available daytime minute at Alva's place so that my aunt wouldn't be alone when I did have to go to the shop. Perhaps that would solve the problem all the way around.

The nurse wheeled Brady to the hospital lobby, and we all waited while Stan went after the car. My aunt paced the room from end to end, clearly excited about her new guest. “Brady, it's going to be great. You'll take the guest room next to the bathroom. It will be so handy for you. Not that you have to get up and down a hundred times a night like I do, but you know what I mean.”

He propped himself up in the wheelchair and smiled. “Oh, I'm sure it'll be great, and thanks for—”

“I do hope you like the color lavender. I painted the room the prettiest shade of lavender in the early nineties. Well, I say
I
painted it, but I really hired someone else to do it—you understand. I never really felt the fellow deserved full payment, though. He only did one coat. If you look closely, you can almost see the design of the wallpaper underneath it, and the seams too. So promise you won't look too closely, okay? I never cared much for that old wallpaper.”

“I'm on medication, Alva,” he said. “I'll be seeing all sorts of things, but wallpaper won't be one of them.”

“If you must look at something when you're in there, look at the drapes. They're lovely, covered in the prettiest purple orchids. Do you like orchids? If not, I have some other drapes that I could hang. They're harvest gold and the sweetest shade of green. Some say those colors went out in the seventies, but I think they're back in style.”

“I don't think he's really going to care about the décor, Aunt Alva.” I shifted my purse from one shoulder to the other.

“Sure he is. We all respond to our surroundings.” She gave him a wink. “I should give you my quilting room. The bed's not as nice but the walls are covered in Mavericks banners and such.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “On the other hand, I don't know if that might depress you. Would it depress you, Brady?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

At that particular moment a Mavericks fan recognized Brady and stopped to shake his hand. “Wish we had you back in the game, man,” the guy said. “Get well soon.”

“I'll give it my best shot.” Brady offered a weak smile.

“I saw what you did there.” The guy laughed. “Best shot. Ha-ha-ha.” Off he went across the lobby, laughing so hard that he garnered the attention of others passing by.

Alva didn't seem to pick up on any of this. Her thoughts were still firmly fixed on the drapes. “Never mind. The lavender room it is. And Katie will be right around the corner in her room, should you need anything. She can play nursemaid.”

Brady flinched. Ack. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

“He doesn't need a nursemaid, Alva,” I said. “Just knowing people are nearby should be good.” I scooted out of the way as a nurse passed by, wheeling a patient out to her car.

“I'll be fine,” he said. “And it won't be long before I'm out of your hair, I promise.”

“But we don't want you out of our hair, Brady.” My aunt leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “We want to spend time with you. In fact, I'm thrilled to have you. It's not often that an old lady like me gets to have a pro basketball player around.”

“You see him almost every day, Alva,” I reminded her.

“Well, sure, but it's going to be fun to plan his meals.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, I know! I saw the cutest little basketball cookies at the store. I'll pick up some of those. We can eat them when we watch the game tomorrow night.”

“Alva, enough with the basketball stuff, okay?” I gave her a warning look, which she obviously ignored.

“And I saw the cutest picture on Facebook the other day—something a friend of mine posted. Little sandwiches cut to look like basketballs. Couldn't figure out what they used to make the stitches, though. Capers, maybe? I've never been a fan of capers, but I might put up with them on this one occasion, just to honor the sport. Do you like capers, Brady?” She clasped her hands together. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

Brady gave her a faint smile, but I could tell he didn't think it sounded like much fun.

After she disappeared into the ladies' room, I sighed. “I'm so sorry, Brady. She means well.”

“Trust me . . .” He yawned. “I'm so medicated that I won't remember anything she says. Or does. And I certainly don't think I'll be focused on the color of the walls or the drapes.”

“That's good, because the room isn't lavender at all. It's an icky shade of grape popsicle.”

“Well,
that
oughta make me feel better.” He shifted his position in the chair and grimaced.

Stan arrived with the car a short time later, but Alva was
nowhere to be seen. I went into the ladies' room to fetch her and found her rummaging through her purse for her house keys, which she was sure she'd lost.

“It's okay, Alva. I've got my set. We really need to go. They're waiting on us.”

“For pity's sake, we don't want to keep our favorite player waiting.” She slung her purse over her left shoulder and her keys slipped out of the side pocket and landed on the floor, along with a tube of lipstick and a package of tissues.

I reached down to pick them up and then touched her arm. “Alva, I really don't think we need to be talking much about basketball in front of Brady. I think it will just depress him.” I passed the items back to her and she shoved them into her purse, her lips curling downward in a pout.

“So, does that mean we can't watch the game tomorrow night? I never miss a game.”

“Let's let him decide, okay? You can always record it and watch it later.”

My aunt looked flabbergasted by this idea.

“Or watch it in your room if he's not keen on it,” I suggested.

I tried to change the topic of conversation as we headed through the lobby and out to the car. We got there just in time to see the nurse push the now-empty wheelchair back through the front door of the hospital. She gave us a little wave and said, “Take care of our patient!”

“Oh, I will.” Alva waved back. “Can't wait!”

It took a lot longer to get to Alva's house than expected, due to construction on the highway. I could tell by his body position that Brady was uncomfortable in the front seat, but he never complained. Still, he went straight to bed when we reached the house. I don't think the boy even gave the drapes
or the walls a second glance. He just climbed into the bed, clothes and all, and passed out cold.

I helped Nadia pull his shoes off and then my phone rang. Glancing down, I saw a familiar name on the screen. I mouthed “Dahlia” to Nadia, who looked concerned.

“I hope everything's all right at the shop,” she whispered. “Let me know.”

“I'm sure it is.” I rushed into the hallway so as not to wake Brady. I took the call and listened as Dahlia carried on about her latest saga with Dewey.

After a moment she gasped. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to tell you all of that. I was just calling to check on Brady and to see how Nadia's holding up.”

“She's exhausted, and I caught her crying a little earlier.”

“Brady's her only child. Not that he's a child, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.” But right now he did seem as vulnerable as a child, at the mercy of the medication.

“I just needed to vent, sorry.” Dahlia sighed. “I'm so sorry to interrupt you. I know that Brady's having a hard day. Stan called Madge and she told us that Brady's in a depression.”

“I'm not sure I'd call it that. But part of it is the meds. They've got him zonked out most of the time. And when he's not medicated he's in so much pain. It breaks my heart to see him like this. I feel awful.”

“Don't blame you, but what can you do other than pray? I'm just hoping he gets through this. Psychologically, I mean.” She paused. “I'm so glad he has you, Katie.”

“Me too. And I'm glad I've got him.”

We said our goodbyes and I stuck my head back in the room. Nadia had almost finished unpacking Brady's suitcase.
I mouthed “Coffee?” and she smiled. Less than a minute later we were seated at the Formica table in the kitchen while my aunt fussed with the coffeepot. I must've been a little too quiet, because Nadia seemed to pick up on my concerns.

“You okay, Katie?” she asked.

“Hmm?” I took my gaze off the coffeepot long enough to glance her way. “Yeah. I will be.”

“Worried about the bridal extravaganza?”

Actually, it was the last thing on my mind. “Not really. I still have a few vendors who've left me hanging, but we'll have enough to piece together a real event. And Madge has helped me choose several gowns for the contestants to look through. I think it'll all come together.”

“Are you regretting the idea?” she asked.

“No. I only question the timing. I want to be there for Brady, and yet I want to do a good job with this too. If it works out, we might be able to do it every Black Friday. It might be a way to stir up interest in some of our older inventory.”

“Good point. And it's a great way to bring in customers who want to buy off the rack, which is where we need to be focused. Dahlia and her team are too busy to take on more designs right now.”

“Tell me about it. Hey, speaking of which, the family of that San Antonio bride has really made things interesting.”

“The Doris Day bride?” Nadia nodded. “Oh, trust me, I've heard all about her crazy family from Twiggy. They're something else, from what she said.”

“Something else is right.”

“Would it ease your mind if I passed them off to Madge?” Nadia asked. “Then you could focus on the extravaganza and on Brady. That would be one less thing to worry about.”

“Aw, thanks for offering, but I'm actually fine with Carrie. She's really nice. And we'll get through this season. I know we will. I think I'm just . . . confused right now.”

“About Brady?” she asked.

“About everything. I care so much about him . . .” The lump in my throat made it nearly impossible to continue. “I hate to see him like this. Like I said, I know it's a season and it will pass, but right now I just can't imagine how he's going to get to the other side of this mountain without giving up.”

“He's so blessed to have you in his life.” Nadia rose and moved toward me. She leaned down to give me a motherly hug. “I've never been more grateful to have someone love Brady as much as I love him.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Is it
that
obvious?” Alva and Nadia echoed in unison.

Nadia took her seat again, a broad smile on her face. “You couldn't hide it if you tried, Katie. And I love you for loving him.”

“Yes, but does he?” I asked. “Love me back, I mean.”

“Of course he does.” Nadia looked stunned at my question. “What makes you think otherwise?”

I gave my words consideration before speaking them. “He just doesn't voice things the way I do. Maybe I'm expecting too much too soon. His actions are convincing, but the words just haven't come.”

“Yet.” Nadia reached over and rested her hand on mine. “They haven't come yet. But they have come in a thousand other ways—in expressions and tone of voice.”

“Oh, sure, but a girl needs to hear the words. You know?”

“I do.”

“Ooh, the two loveliest words spoken between a man and woman!” Alva giggled as she filled our coffee cups. “I do, I
do!” She brought Nadia's to the table on a pretty little saucer and set it in front of her. “Sugar? Cream?”

“I'll take a little of both,” Nadia said. “And thank you, Alva. The coffee smells wonderful.”

I rose and got my cup to save Alva the trip. Before long we were all seated at the table, a holy hush settling over us.

Nadia broke it a couple of minutes later. She held her coffee cup and stared at me. “I need to tell you something, Katie. I don't feel like I'm breaking a confidence or anything.”

“What is it?”

She took a sip of her coffee and then released a slow breath as she set the cup back down. “Brady's father was great. He showed his love in a number of ways.”

“Yes, I've heard great things about him.”

“Such a positive influence on Brady. On everyone he came in contact with. But he did have this one very obvious flaw . . .” She pursed her lips and appeared to be thinking.

“What do you mean?”

“He showed his love, but he wasn't the sort to throw his arms around you and just speak it plain. The words ‘I love you' were harder to come by.”