Time to Love Again (11 page)

He voiced the same questions and concerns she did. "Who could have done something so malicious? Do you have any idea?"

"No, I can't imagine what they even wanted. I have nothing of value." She looked at him and it dawned on her he was worried about Sarah. "My guess is teenagers looking for money or something... They kicked the front door damn near off its hinges, so they had to be pretty strong." That should convince him that she didn't suspect Sarah or her friends.

No way could a child that age have caused that kind of damage. No, Sarah and her friends annoyed her, but they weren't vicious or old enough to do something like that. She looked into his eyes as she spoke. Eyes the color of metal. But not cold or hard.

He talked to her softly on the way to the coronary care unit. "So you're visiting your friend? How is she doing?" he asked.

"When I left she was doing as well as could be expected."

"How long have you been friends?"

The question struck Rose as odd. What, didn't he think she had friends? Probably not the way she acted. After all, she usually visited Louise. No one ever came to her house. "Since our children were small."

 
As he wheeled her into the room, Molly and George came out. Shock registered on their faces.

"Aunt Rose!" Molly couldn't seem to contain her surprise.

"Rose, what happened? Are you okay?" George stopped next to the wheelchair, leaned down and kissed her cheek.

Rose filled them in about the house.

"Did you call Francis and Melinda?" A worried look showed in Molly's dark brown eyes.

"No, I...I really haven't had a chance to call anyone." Not that she saw any point in calling them. Why upset them needlessly. "Besides, they're too far away to do anything anyway."

Molly and George shook their heads in disagreement.

"I don't think you should keep this from them, Rose." George patted her shoulder. "They think everything is fine with you. It's time they realized you're having a hard time."

Rose waved her hand in dismissal. "I'm fine. What can they do for me 3,000 miles away? They can't just drop everything and come running home because Mom had a little set back."

* * *

Stephen stood off to the side, listening to their conversation. They didn't seem to notice him or care that he heard them

Rose was the last person he had expected to see. She looked like hell. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her hair a tangled mess. Hardly the crotchety old lady from yesterday. Yet he felt that same stirring in him that he had earlier. Something about this woman caused him to care. Hell, even in this state of disarray, she looked beautiful and sexy. Okay, not beautiful and sexy like the young models. But something radiated from her eyes. Sure they looked hollow and red, but deep within he saw something he liked. Underneath that rough exterior was a passionate woman. He'd bet his life on it.

The poor woman certainly has had a lot to deal with. She looked so pathetic sitting in the wheel chair, wearing a hospital gown that looked two sizes too big. Her voice quivered when she spoke. Something, besides sympathy, tugged at his heart. Damn attractive too, even in her present state of unruliness. She stirred a desire in him. Had since the day he first saw her working in her yard last summer.

 
He wondered why Rose's kids didn't come home any more. From everything, he'd heard from Len and Millie, she had been a terrific mother.

You just couldn't count on your kids these days. He had a crazy desire to take Rose in his arms and hold her, to offer her comfort and strength. Truth be told, he'd like to do a lot more than that. But for now offering her comfort was enough. She shouldn't have to deal with this alone.

But he also knew she'd reject him. She wasn't the type to accept friends that easily. At least he didn't think she was. But he knew deep down, under that cold, hard, exterior beat a heart of a passionate woman. And he'd like to be the one that released that passion.

Did he have a chance?

Well, for now, at least, he could offer her friendship. That's if she even accepted it. He had tried many times over the past year to speak to her with no success. What made him think she'd accept friendship now? But he had to try. Here was a woman who needed help. A woman who, for some reason, fascinated him. A very attractive woman who he wanted to know better. She had opened up to him a little. If he could just make her trust him.

 
At least she talked to him, told him what happened. She could have clammed up. After all that's what she usually did, and after the trauma she just went through he wouldn't have blamed her. Wouldn't have liked it, but he would have understood. He'd have to work on gaining her trust. Once she knew she could trust him who knew where the relationship would lead.

"I'm ready," Rose's voice brought him back to the present. He smiled at her friends, pushed her into Louise's room and went out to give her privacy.

* * *

If the truth were known she'd love for her kids to come home. Rose hated that they lived so far away and hardly called or came home any more. But she wouldn't tell George and Molly that. She absolutely refused to interfere in her kids lives. They had jobs, families. They couldn't just pick up and come running here because she had a problem. She'd deal with it on her own, just like she had since Frank died. Frank, she missed that man more every day. This wouldn't have happened if he were alive. Or if it had, she could have called him at work. He would have handled it.

"Frank's gone. Take what help is being offered by friends and move on. You don't have to handle this alone. You have people willing to help." Emma sounded more like her old self every time she spoke.

Rose shoved the nagging voice aside. She needed to see Louise. She wanted to see for herself that she was okay.

It didn't matter what she wished, facts were facts. Her children had jobs and lives away from here, and she couldn't do anything to change it.

Louise opened her eyes for a minute when Rose touched her hand. She looked so frail, so unlike Louise. She sat with Louise for a few more minutes.

It was pretty much what Rose expected. She motioned at the doorway for Stephen to take her back to her room. When they got on the elevator, tears built up again and overflowed onto her cheeks. It felt like a dam had burst, and she couldn't stop it. Her eyes had to look swollen from crying. She couldn't remember crying so much before. Never had she felt so alone.

Whoever said time heals all wounds didn't know what they were talking about. Obviously they hadn't lost a loved one. Instead of getting better, it got worse. Not a day went by that she didn't think of Frank and Emma or her parents. Although she had dealt with her parents death a little better. After all, they had lived long full lives. But Frank and Emma's lives were robbed right in their prime.

"Tell me about your husband," Stephen said on the way back to her room.

Rose took a deep breath and dried her tears. Did he really want to know? He sounded concerned. "He had a heart attack, not long after my parents' death. I was devastated." She glanced back at him and hesitated. Something about the way he looked at her made her go on. She opened up in a way she hadn't done with anyone else.

"He was a good man, a good provider," she said. "He was my best friend. We did everything together. He brought me flowers every week. Roses." She brushed her fingers through her hair.

"We used to sit in front of the fire on cold winter evenings and read and sometimes we just talked. God, we talked for hours and hours about everything and anything. I know I'm making it sound like we had a perfect marriage. It wasn't that. We had our ups and downs just like anyone else. But we never went to bed mad. We were always able to talk through our problems and reach a compromise."

 
She swallowed a sob and looked back at Stephen again. He still appeared interested. May as well let him know all of it.

"Then my sister died a cruel death from cancer. I thought I'd never recover. I guess I still haven't. There's not a day goes by that I don't reach for the phone to call her. Sometimes I drive by her old house. New people live there now. Her husband moved away. Said the memories of their home were too painful. I guess men see things different than women. I take comfort in the memories.

Stephen pushed her wheelchair into her room, and she moved to the chair. Stephen sat on the one opposite. "I guess for Adam it was the right thing to do. I don't hear from him much. He has his own life to lead. He travels a lot." She sighed. Adam was fulfilling the plans he and Emma had made.

"My sister couldn't wait for Adam to retire so they could travel. Life was going to be one long vacation. But she died before they had a chance to go anywhere. The year Adam retired, they diagnosed her with cancer. Inoperable. She tried all the normal stuff, chemo, radiation. It didn't help." Rose paused and remembered sitting with Emma during one of her chemo treatments. She hated it, would have gotten out of it if she could have thought of an excuse.

"I even wonder if it did any good in prolonging her life. Not sure I would have gone that route. In fact, I've made up my mind that I won't. Her quality of life was nothing. She was so tired that she stayed in bed most of the time. Hardly seems worth it to me." She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory.

 
Stephen listened. He didn't comment and Rose appreciated that. There wasn't anything anyone could say. Something told her he understood.

He sat with her in her room for a while and visited, offering sympathy and a comfort Rose hadn't known for a long time. He even made her laugh. His gray eyes filled with compassion and warmth.

Rose's heart skipped a beat when he took her hand and squeezed it. He stood up and kissed her cheek. Rose liked the feel of his lips. It caused a flickering of desire in her that she had forgotten. Part of her wished he'd just go. Yet another part wanted to be in his arms. Wanted to feel his lips on hers. Wanted to taste him. God, what was wrong with her? She was a mature woman, not some silly teenager waiting to experience sex for the first time. She and Frank had a wonderful sex life. She didn't need that anymore, but still... Rose got into bed and closed her eyes. If she feigned sleep maybe he'd go away.

* * *

 
"I'll come back later," Stephen promised as he left. Had he seen a flickering of desire in her or was that wishful thinking on his part? He knew he wanted a relationship with her now more than ever. He had seen down into the depth of her soul. He had been right– here was a caring, passionate woman. And he wanted her. Wanted to feel her body close to his. Hadn't wanted anyone like that since his wife.

But in the course of an hour Rose renewed those feelings in him. Hell, he was still a young man. Still had needs. What was it someone once said – 'Just because there's snow on the roof didn't mean there isn't fire in the furnace'. He had laughed about it when he heard it but now he understood it. And his fire was raging out of control.

He went back to his job. He understood Rose's anguish. He felt the same way when Margaret Ann died. Seemed like a long time ago now, yet at times it seemed like yesterday. Someone said time heals all wounds. Not true. Time didn't ease the pain of the loss of a loved one. The pain doesn't diminish just because time passes. Sure, you learn to live with it, adjust and go on, but the pain and loss are still there. Always would be.

"Stephen," the dispatcher said, "patient in 220 B needs transported to x-ray."

Stephen snapped his thoughts back to his job. Now wasn't the time to think about Margaret Ann or Rose.

* * *

 
Loneliness overwhelmed Rose when Stephen disappeared down the hall. She got up and walked to the window, looked out, not really seeing the view.

Did she want him to come back?

She had enjoyed talking to him. In fact she hadn't enjoyed talking to anyone like that in a long time. Something about him reminded her of Frank. Certainly not his looks. They couldn't have been more opposite.

Frank hadn't been anywhere near as tall and Frank had blond hair. Stephen's was dark. And their builds were so different. Frank, muscular but stocky. Stephen, muscular but lean. But something, maybe their warmth and kindness. They both showed a concerned, sympathetic side.