Granddad's House (On Geneva Shores) (24 page)

“Olivia Marie, don’t you tell me that again. I won’t live in a place with nothing but old people. I have my garden, and my own kitchen and my own furniture and no one telling me when I have to get up and when I have to go to bed.”

“But, Granddad, they don’t do that. And you can have your own furniture …”

“But not my garden. The roses you gave me are just starting to bloom, even though I got them in later than normal.”

“We can transplant them into pots so you can take them with you,” she pleaded.

“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “I’d rather die than go to one of those places. There’s nobody there but old folks,” he repeated. “I like where I am. Gives me a chance to watch the kids across the street. Why, there’s a little tyke over there just learning to ride his tricycle. The same way you did—pushed it backwards with his feet the other day. One of these days, he’ll end up going forward and then there’ll be no stopping him. I want to see that and clap my hands to encourage him, like I did with you.” He smiled and looked like he was seeing it all over again.

She sighed. “Okay. But you must promise to take your insulin when you are supposed to.”

“I promise. I guess I just forgot.”

“No more of that.” She patted his hand then gave him a hug.

Her grandfather squinted at her, his glasses in his hand. “Livvy. I was going to ask you why you’ve been putting so much stuff on your face. It’s all smeared around your eyes—that black stuff. Your face looks so much better without all that extra color.”

She smiled. “Granddad, I have two black eyes. I fell against my desk and hit my nose the other day and now the bruising is showing up.”

“Where are my glasses?” It was his turn to smile at her as he settled them on his nose. “Well, then maybe you should try to cover up those colors. Who’s going to want to buy a house from someone who looks like a raccoon?” He chuckled.

Indeed.
It was why she’d been hiding in her office the last couple of days. “I’ll call you tomorrow and ask if you took your insulin.”

“No need for that. Besides, I’ll bet you get up and go to work before I’m out of bed.”

“I’m going to call you anyway. Be sure to answer the phone.”

He nodded and walked with her to his front door.  “Fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

But what if he wasn’t fine? Granddad had said he would never move into her house, that Olivia needed her own space. But he shouldn’t be in his own space if he wasn’t eating right and was forgetting his medicines. He loved his furniture, the furniture he’d known since his marriage to Grandmamma, pieces he had refused to part with when he moved into the condo. There wasn’t room in her guest room for all of his things. She sighed. Perhaps she would put the few new pieces she had bought into storage, except she didn’t really want to do that, either. Maybe if she moved him into the master bedroom with its own bath he would agree to move in with her.

Then there was Beau. She wanted to see him again, to follow her heart. Face it, she wanted to sleep with him, too. How could she do that with Granddad in the house? She frowned into the rear view mirror as she glanced back at the car that honked at her when she stayed at the light long past when it turned green.
I’ve got to talk to the doctor.
Maybe he could help her decide what to do.

Chapter 14

Robert looked around the room.
Where am I? Oh. Yes. My new house.
He spotted his favorite chair and sat down. Time for
Questions
. He touched the remote to activate the television and frowned when a wrestling match appeared. Wrong channel. He flicked the channel changer, but nothing familiar appeared. He frowned. Something wrong here. He wandered into the kitchen. The list of “to do’s” that Olivia had taped to the cabinet next to the sink reminded him to look at the clock. Only four?
No wonder
Questions
wasn’t on. Maybe he would just have a glass of water and check the roses. He went outside. The breeze was stiff and within minutes he was shivering. He stood near the fence, unsure whether to go back inside or deadhead the dying blooms. The sound of a slamming door caught his attention. His neighbor was waving at him. Robert raised his hand.

“Robert! You been sick? It’s
kinda windy to be out there in your robe.”

He looked down and pulled the bathrobe closed, his hands trembling slightly. “Uh. No. Yes. I guess I should. See you later.” He returned to the house, his gait less steady than he expected, bemused that he was still in his pajamas.
More water.
Why am I still thirsty?
He wandered around the house, trying to remember what he had planned to do then gave up and sat down in his chair. When the five o’clock news came on, he remembered. Check blood. Make dinner. Eat. He was about to sit down to eat a piece of bread on which he’d slapped a slice of turkey when the phone rang.

“Granddad?”

“Hello, Livvy. It’s nice of you to call.”

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing. Is everything okay?”

“Of course. What makes you think it wouldn’t be?” The phone jiggled against his cheek when his hand shook.

“Well, I just wanted to hear your voice. Are you taking your insulin like you’re supposed to?”

“Yes.” But his blood glucose was higher than it was supposed to be, according to that chart he’d looked at. Maybe he’d missed lunch. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. “You don’t have to check on me all the time, Livvy.” His voice sounded harsh to his own ears. He hoped Olivia wouldn’t notice.

“I’m not checking on you, Granddad. I just wanted to—I just, never mind. I was wondering if we could go for a ride tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a nice day. The leaves are coloring up in the hills. Would you’d like to see them with me?”

“That would be nice.”

“Great! I’ll make us a picnic lunch and if it’s not too cold outside, we can eat at the park.”

“Nice idea. It’s been a while since your Grandmamma and I—we used to take you there. Remember how you liked the swings?”

“I remember.” Olivia’s soft laugh always reminded him of bells tinkling in the wind, a laugh just like Esther’s.

“But I’m a little too big for them now. I’ll pick you up around eleven.”

“See you then.” From the refrigerator, he pulled out a casserole dish and placed it in the microwave. That turkey sandwich didn’t look so appetizing. Maybe he’d eat later. And then he would take his medicine.

Olivia sat on her couch. So much had happened in the last few days. That scene at the office with Helen’s ex, the day she had taken Granddad home from his old house and then to the doctor, and the times she had visited him since, dismayed that he didn’t seem to be following her printed instructions about testing his glucose levels, taking his insulin, even eating and drinking.  And he had refused to move in with her. Angrily refused. But now he seemed to be better, eager to go for a ride with her tomorrow. She would make sure he tested on time, ate what he was supposed to and took his insulin. 

The doorbell rang. She opened it to Beau, his patented smirk lighting his face. Her heart leapt. How long had it been since she’d seen him? Last evening? Even that was too long.

“May I come in?” He drawled.

She stepped aside, and he swept her into his arms, giving her a hug and then a kiss that she was happy to prolong.

“Did you come over to tell me Granddad has been to the house again?”

“No. I haven’t seen him since that last time. I guess he’s over that now?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“You’re worried about him.” He stroked her cheek before sliding his hand downward to the neckline of her blouse.

She nodded. “If I’d known his house sale would throw him so much, I wouldn’t have pushed him to do it. Maybe I should have just moved in with him instead.”

He draped an arm around her shoulders. “You had no idea this would happen. How could you have predicted it? Besides, did he want you to move in there?”

“No.” She plucked at his shirt. “When I bought my town house, he said he was glad that I was making my own life, as he called it. My first home, one of many, he kept saying. What my dad said, too.”

“So what has you worried?”

“He—he—he—” She stopped.
Damn. Not again.
“I’m not sure he’s taking his medicine on time, or is eating like he should. And he freaked out when I suggested assisted living. I was debating about asking him if I could have someone come in and make his meals for him during the day, but I’m almost afraid to suggest it. I’m going to take him out tomorrow. Maybe I’ll suggest it then, except he may bite my head off.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bother you with this.”

“Why not?” He hugged her again. “I’m a good listener, and sharing can help.” His voice dropped and he pulled her around to face him. “Know what I want to do?” he murmured.

She shook her head, hoping it was what she wanted.

“I want to take you to dinner and then make love to you. What do you think of that plan?”

Her heart zinged into her throat. The butterflies were back again. No way could she talk. She nodded. “Nice plan,” she finally croaked.

When he smiled at her, she pulled down his head and stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
How could she not agree? It was all she ever thought about.
Being with Beau. In bed or not. She remembered how she had felt when she’d wakened that morning, breathing rapidly, having waked from a dream in which they had …

He kissed her back to reality. “Maybe we should reverse the order of that plan,” he whispered.

She smiled. “I have a better idea. How about I make you dinner here—after we, you know …”

“I like how you think,
darlin’.”

They walked into her bedroom where they took turns removing each other’s clothes.

As they lay with their arms entwined, he stroked her face. “Olivia, beautiful Olivia. You are so hungry for love. I want to feed you—whatever you want.” He deposited tiny little kisses on her face. “Love like this. And whatever fruits and vegetables you like, too.”

She giggled.

“What do you say—shall we move in together—at my place, or here?”

After a long moment, she shook her head and tears welled up in her eyes. “I can’t,” she said. “I’ve thought about that, but I can’t. Not now.”

“Because of your grandfather?”

She nodded. “I may have to convince him to move in with me. And if that happens, we can’t. We won’t be able to …”

He kissed away her tears. “Because he wouldn’t like it?”

“According to him, people are supposed to be—you know …” She was afraid to mention the M word. He’d said he loved her, but she hadn’t said it back to him for reasons that escaped her. Maybe he was allergic to marriage, after all that nastiness with Heidi. Like George had implied when she’d dared to inquire. Olivia shivered.

Of course, she was in love with him, but she wasn’t sure she knew him well enough to be sure that he hadn’t said he loved her just to calm her down that day she’d almost crashed his business meeting. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him. It felt so right when they made love, and she didn’t want him to leave. Ever. But marriage? Was
she
ready for that? Would he even consider it? But the thought of losing him was like a dagger in her heart. And if she did lose him, how would she survive? Unbidden, the picture of her university roommate flashed in her brain. She had a baby, child of the man she’d loved and lost to the horrors of the Iraq war. Robin had told her how much she cherished the baby, her man’s baby. Even if she couldn’t have him, at least she had their daughter.

Beau smiled back at her and slid his hands around on her body. “Maybe if you asked him to—”

She pressed a finger against his lips, so expressive when they kissed. “I don’t want to talk about it now,” she said. “I want us to make love. Again.”

He chuckled. “I’m game.”

She grinned. “Then put your arms under your head. I don’t want you to touch me. Let me touch you.”

“You drive a hard bargain, lady,” he said, as she began to stroke his face, her kisses following where her fingers and hands caressed him.

She wasn’t sure why she felt such a need to know every inch of him through her hands, through her lips. All she knew was that she had to explore him, the angles of his face, the tickle of his late-afternoon beard, more noticeable around the cleft of his chin than on his cheeks, the speeding up of the pulse at his neck, the strength of his shoulders and the bulge of muscles in his upper arms, which seemed to flex whenever her fingers slid around them. When her hands moved lightly over his ribs, he jerked involuntarily.

“That tickles,” he whispered. 

She repeated the action until he laughed out loud, but something about the way he sucked in his breath as her lips and hands wandered around his body told her she was getting to him in ways only a woman could. She ran her hands over his chest and down over his abs, so taut. He groaned slightly and his hips moved as she deposited a line of kisses down to his belly button. Robin and her precious daughter floated in the recesses of her mind. A child. His child. Would they have to be married for that?

Beau reached for her.

“Naughty boy,” she scolded. “Don’t you dare touch me. I’m not done yet.”

He moaned under his breath, and her mouth followed where her hands explored—his thighs, down to the back of his knees where she knew he was ticklish, and then his ankles and feet before she began to kiss her way upward.

“Livvy, I need to—let me—” One hand reached for the side table.

But she moved his hand away from the table, and angled herself to straddle him, aware that she was acting foolishly, but no longer caring. The golden mist of curls on Robin’s baby came to mind again. If she couldn’t have Beau, if he refused to consider the M word, if he really didn’t love her, at least she could have—

He looked up at her in alarm. “Olivia. Stop!”

But she didn’t want to stop. She didn’t care that he wasn’t wearing a condom, that she hadn’t allowed him to reach for one. She just wanted him to fill her. If she couldn’t have him in her bed forever, if she couldn’t live with him, perhaps …

He jerked suddenly and pulled away from her. “No. I can’t do that, not to you,” he declared, something like fear and a tinge of anger in his voice. He reached for her and pulled her onto his chest.

She began to fight him.

“Why not?” she cried, tears sliding down her cheeks, cheeks that burned with desire and frustration that she hadn’t brought him to climax before he pulled away. “If I can’t have you, at least I can have …” She couldn’t breathe, she wanted him so badly.

“What do you mean you can’t have me? Of course, you can. For now and forever.” He placed his hands on either side of her face and brought his lips to hers for the gentlest of kisses. “
Darlin’, you’re too precious for us to take a chance like that.”

And then he said it again, what she’d feared she wouldn’t hear a second time, what she had wanted to hear but was afraid she’d only imagined.

“I love you. I’ve loved you from that first time I saw you in your grandfather’s house, when you were tangled in the bar stool. You’re the woman I want to be the mother of my children, but not like this, not now.”

She turned away briefly, weeping harder, shaking her head.

“I love kids. I want kids.” He stroked her face. “But I want them when we’re both ready to be parents, not … not because we weren’t careful.” He kissed her. “Let me make love to you. I want to and I will, but not without protection. We can’t take that chance, darlin’. I won’t let you take that risk.” He reached for the box of condoms. “Here. You pick the color.” He waited.

She sighed and lay her head on his chest, counting the strong beats of his heart. The love he showed her made her heart ache.

Sometime later he kissed away the remnants of her tears, covering her body with his kisses. Her desire for him was mixed up with so many other emotions, and she reached for him again, not caring that he was stronger than she. This time, she let him bring them both to a peak and together they crashed downward onto the other side of desire. Her heart sang. She had to tell him.

When finally she smiled, she gazed into his eyes, wanting to dive into their chocolate depths. “You love me?”

“I said it, didn’t I?” he drawled. “I would never say it if I didn’t mean it, Olivia, sweet.” He kissed her fingertips, one by one before taking one into his mouth. “I have a thought. Why don’t we tell your grandfather?”