Waiting for Sunrise: Baytown Boys Series Page 8

  “He seems pretty progressive…”

  “Yeah, but I think he’s got some friends in the pharmaceutical company that we use, so that may be why he’s held off.”

  “Does Careway ever have a problem with missing drugs…or thefts? Seems like I read an article about that—not with them, but with nursing homes in general.”

  Her face scrunched again, and she replied, “Not that I know of but, then, I’m not involved in ordering. Linda does that.” She thought for a moment and added, “I mean, I guess it wouldn’t be too hard. All it would take is for someone who is doling out the medicine to leave out a pill or two. Some of our residents know exactly what pills they are due, but others just take the little cup and swallow them down.” Shaking her head, she looked back at him, her eyes full of concern and said, “That’d be so horrible. To steal drugs from a defenseless person.”

  She stood to refill their drink glasses. Sure that she was not the Careway employee Lionel intimated was selling drugs, he sucked in a huge breath before letting it out slowly, his mind in turmoil.

  9

  Belle walked out of Mrs. Lappendale’s room, her smile strained. A few of the residents were very demanding and she was usually extremely understanding. Sometimes their complaints stemmed from pain, loneliness, or frustration at not being able to do all of the things they used to be able to do. But, in Mrs. Lappendale’s case, she had an imperial attitude from years of having servants and saw no difference between the nurses and the employees she was used to ordering about.

  Rubbing her forehead, she walked down the hall, wishing she could see Hunter. After their talk the other day, he had been more removed at work. Hearing laughter, she glanced through the open door of the employee lounge and saw him standing close to one of the nursing aides. Nola. A strange jolt to her heart had her turn away sharply. We’re nothing but friends…he owes me nothing. She continued down the hall, trying to purge the image of the two of them, his head bent as he closely listened to whatever Nola was saying. Her hand on his bicep as she smiled seductively up at him.

  Finding an empty corner, she leaned her back against the wall, her chin dropped to her chest. Why Nola? Snorting, she knew the reason. Nola was known as a flirt...bragged about her sexual conquests. A sigh slipped from her lips as she realized the underserved reputation she had when a teen was what grown men seemed to gravitate toward.

  Pushing off the wall, she continued down the hall, determined to force thoughts of Hunter back into the co-worker category and out of her heart.

  Hunter forced his body to lean intimately toward Nola, hoping their conversation would not be overheard, but the odor of her foul smoker’s breath had him fighting to keep from recoiling back.

  “So, you’ve worked here for a year?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she grinned up at him, her hand moving to squeeze his arm. “We’ve never had anyone as good-looking as you come through.”

  “I met a guy the other day, said he knew someone who worked here, but I forgot to get the name. He’s Lionel.”

  Nola’s brow crinkled. “Don’t know a Lionel.” Her face relaxed as a sly smile curved her lips. “But then, I don’t always worry about their names, if you know what I mean. Sometimes a hookup needs no name, unless you plan on going back for seconds.”

  Chuckling, he inwardly grimaced. “This guy works for a drug company. Delivers here, I think.”

  Her eyes widened. “Dark hair…kind of scruffy? Yeah, him and me had a quick fuck once. Can’t say I know him, though, if you know what I mean.” She giggled, adding, “But, hell, we did it in the back of his delivery van.”

  “So, you don’t see him regular?”

  Shaking her head, she replied, “Nah. Just that once and it was enough, if you know what I mean.”

  Forcing interest in her limited, repetitive vocabulary, he said, “Well, Lionel didn’t kiss and tell.”

  Slapping his arm, she slid closer, her bad breath hitting him in the face, and said, “Don’t bother me none, if they talk.”

  Standing back to his full height, he stepped backward. “Well, I gotta get back to work.”

  Her mouth fell into a pout, and she said, “I’m available…for whatever you might have in mind.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, with an easy grin. With that, he turned quickly and headed back out into the hall. Breathing easier with the clean air, he knew he needed to be careful. It was risky to try to find out who he might score drugs from at Careway without gaining attention. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he listened as his name was called on the radio to come to one of the residents’ room. Glad to get back to work, he walked down the hall.

  Entering Mr. Rasky’s room, he heard the older man say, “’Bout time you got here. Told her this was a bad idea.”

  His feet came to a halt at the sight of Belle’s sweet ass at eye level as she perched on top of the bed, reaching to hang a picture on the wall.

  “What the fu—what are you doing?” he growled, hearing her yelp of surprise as his hands grasped her waist and plucked her from the bed. “You just broke all kinds of rules,” he continued, anger lacing his voice.

  “I told her that, but she insisted,” Mr. Rasky tattled. “Told her to wait for you to come, but she was determined to do it herself, so I called for you instead.”

  Belle’s face flamed bright red as she rubbed her hands over her thighs. “He wanted a different picture hung there. The nail was already in the wall...”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Hunter said, his fingers itching to pull her close and spank her all at the same time. “You’ve already got one injured wrist and here you are, risking the rest of you. What the hell were you thinking?”

  She spared a glance over at Mr. Rasky, pursing her lips, before shooting her gaze up to Hunter. “I thought maybe you were busy in the break room or something.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her but she twisted around quickly.

  “Well, since you’re here, you can finish the job. I’ll see you later, Mr. Rasky.”

  He watched as she skirted around him and hustled out of the room. Standing with his hands on his hips, he still felt anger flowing through his veins, but the sight of her ass as she walked out had him dropping his head. “Fuck,” he breathed.

  “Well, that could have gone better,” Mr. Rasky cackled.

  The same words had spilled from Zac’s mouth when they were last at the pub and he wondered if he was destined to keep making mistakes around Belle. Swinging his head over to the older man, he nodded. “Yep.”

  “Wonder why she thought you were busy?”

  Scrubbing his hand over his face, he chuckled ruefully. “Guess she must have seen something and made an assumption.”

  “Yeah…thing about assumptions,” Mr. Rasky said. “You get an idea about someone and it’s hard to let it go.” He pinned him with his sharp stare and added, “I’m a good judge of character and I’d say you’re just the type of man Belle needs in her life.”

  Glaring in return, he asked, “Did you call me in here, with her balancing up on your bed, knowing I’d have a fit?”

  Leaning his head back, Mr. Rasky closed his eyes. “Kind of tired now, boy. Think I’ll take a nap.”

  Staring at his boots, he shook his head. “Guess I better go make amends.”

  “You do that, Hunter. You do that.”

  Belle lifted Mr. Rosenberg’s head enough that he was able to take a sip of water from the straw. Afterward, she gently lay his head back on the pillow and set the cup onto the bedside table. Taking a wet washcloth, she smoothed it over his face and neck.

  She had managed to stay away from Hunter for the rest of the afternoon and now it was after hours, which meant he would already be gone. The day shift of employees had left, leaving only the minimum night staff, but she stayed to check on Mr. Rosenberg.

  He did not acknowledge her presence, the pain medicine keeping him comfortable and allowing him to slip into a deep sleep. He was a long-term resident of Careway, having com
e to live there ten years ago when his wife died. She had met him when she was a teen volunteer and used to read to him. Their friendship continued as he encouraged her to pursue her nursing aide training, then her LPN degree, and recently as she approached graduation with her RN.

  His encouragement was rivaled only by her grandmother’s, but with Grannie’s passing, Mr. Rosenberg had become a stand-in grandparent.

  Linda stopped by on her way out, offering her words of comfort. “He’s lucky to have you.”

  Shaking her head, she corrected, “I was lucky to have him.”

  Looking at him with a sympathetic gaze, Linda said, “It will probably be soon. I’ll call hospice and have them come in first thing tomorrow morning.”

  She swallowed deeply. “I’ll stay with him.”

  Patting her shoulder, Linda nodded her agreement. “Professionally, I should warn you against becoming so attached…but in this business, it only makes you a more caring nurse.”

  Offering a watery smile of thanks, she remained silent.

  “Once you get your RN, will you stay with us?”

  Her gaze shot to Linda’s and her eyes widened. “I can’t imagine working anywhere else.”

  Nodding, Linda simply responded, “Good,” before walking out of the room.

  The hours passed and she busied herself around his room. She cleaned a few things off his nightstand, throwing away old tissues and cups. Opening the top drawer, her gaze landed on his old, silver pocket watch. Picking it up reverently, she turned it over and traced the engraving on the back. “Your loving wife forever, Bea.”

  She sucked in her lips, pressing them tightly to keep the tears at bay, but it was to no avail. They flowed freely, knowing that soon he would be joining her. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she replaced the watch carefully and shut the drawer.

  Just when she thought she might take a break, his breathing became more labored. Following the hospice doctor’s instructions, she increased his medication after having one of the night LPN’s join her.

  Alone once more, she sat by his bed, taking his hand in hers, and waited.

  Lying in bed, sleep did not find Hunter. He had not run into Belle again that afternoon and when he left, he drove by her house several times but her car never showed up in her driveway. She’s probably out with the girls…trash-talking me. As soon as that thought hit his mind, he dismissed it. It did not seem like Belle’s style to trash-talk anyone, even if she thought the worst about them.

  Kicking himself for not picking a more discreet time and place to question Nola, he heaved a sigh. Maybe it’s for the best…I’m in a fucked-up place in my life to try to start a relationship. But, the idea of Belle made it hard to be noble. It had been a long time since he had anything so sweet in his life… Actually, I’ve never had anything that sweet.

  Giving up on sleep, he headed out, determined to see if she were safe at home. A moment later, his heart pounded with fear as he noted her car was still not in her driveway. Roaring down the road in the middle of the night, he headed to Careway to see if anyone noticed when she left.

  Pulling into the parking lot, he observed her car parked over to the side, not in her usual spot. Was she parked there yesterday? Did I miss her when I left? Has she been here all this time? Quickly securing his helmet, he stalked into the building. The night staff was on duty, and he watched as one of the aides walked quietly down the hall.

  Heading directly to her, he asked, “Have you seen Belle? Her car’s outside—”

  “She’s with Mr. Rosenberg. He’s…he’s…”

  Understanding dawned and he started jogging toward the back hall. Slowing down as he neared the room, he willed his heart to calm. Sucking in a deep breath, he stepped inside, greeted by a sight that caused his heart to stutter.

  Belle was sitting next to the dying man, her melodious voice speaking softly. He walked over and she looked up, her eyes widening as she saw him. Without saying a word, he moved into a chair on the other side of the bed and nodded toward her to indicate she should continue.

  She licked her lips before turning back to the dying man. She continued to read from the book in her lap, a tale of lovers finding each other again after being separated for so long. As she came to the end of the story, she said, “I know you miss your Bea.”

  She looked over at him and explained, “Bea was his wife. They were married for over fifty years but she died ten years ago.”

  He offered a nod and she heaved a sigh. Pulling out his phone, he searched for a moment before turning the volume up. The sounds of beautiful, instrumental music filled the air, creating a peaceful backdrop to her readings. Reading another story, her eyes would stray up to his, a sad smile playing about her lips as he willed his strength into her.

  Hours passed and they stayed with Mr. Rosenberg. Occasionally she would stand to stretch, and he would walk over to massage her shoulders. “I didn’t get to do this with my mother,” she said softly. Her words broke as she said, “She overdosed one night. That was it. She was there and then gone. No one to hold her hand…”

  “Belle, don’t. Your mother made choices that were her own…just like my dad did. But what you do here, is a choice. You give to those who are willing to receive.”

  Blowing out a long breath, she nodded before moving back to the bedside. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she rubbed Mr. Rosenberg’s hands while Hunter told him stories of fishing off one of the Navy piers in Norfolk.

  At one point, he laid his head back against the chair and drifted off to sleep for a few minutes. Waking in a jerk, he observed Belle, her head lying on her arm as her hand clasped Mr. Rosenberg’s. The soft sound of crying met his ears and his gaze jumped to the machines hooked up to the dying man, noting the heartbeat had slowed dramatically.

  He moved quickly and knelt on the other side of the bed from her, reaching over to place his large hand on hers. Together, they held Mr. Rosenberg’s gnarled hands as he passed away. She lifted her head and stared, first at Mr. Rosenberg, and then at him. Their hands remained clasped, their breathing slight. The sunrise was just sending its rays through the window. Their eyes met and centuries of fresh grief passed between them.

  “He’s with Bea,” he said, his voice raspy with emotion as he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

  Nodding, a fresh tear slid down her cheek and he reached up to wipe it away. Before he had a chance to speak again, Linda hurried into the room and immediately moved to Belle. “Honey, it’s time. You need to let him go.”

  Belle turned her tear-stained face up and nodded silently. She allowed Linda to assist her up, accepting a hug from her supervisor.

  “You’ve been here all night. Go home…take today off…rest.”

  Mr. Weldon walked into the room and said, “I’ll call the funeral home. The only next-of-kin is a distant, great niece who said that she was told he would be cremated and his ashes were to be buried next to his wife. She said she won’t be coming, and that the funeral home will handle everything.”

  He turned to Belle and Hunter and reiterated, “Go home, you two. You’ve done all you can for him.” As she turned to walk toward the door, where he already stood, Mr. Weldon pulled her into a hug and patted her back. “You are what I always strive to have here at Careway.”

  Hunter watched as she walked toward him, still standing in the doorway, but she did not appear to see him. Her eyes were swollen and she moved robotically. Following, he watched as one of the aides brought her purse to her and she walked out the door.

  He continued to follow at a distance, uncertain what he should do. He had wanted to talk to her, assure her he was only talking to Nola about work and nothing else but, now, he stood awkwardly watching as she stopped at her car door.

  Suddenly, she slumped to the ground and his feet became unstuck as he raced to her. Dropping to her side, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her tightly to his chest.

  “Belle,” he whispered into her hair before leaning back to see her fa
ce. “When did you eat last?”

  Her confused expression told him all he needed to know. Standing, he carried her to the passenger side and deposited her gently into the seat. Pushing the driver’s seat back to accommodate his long legs, he started her car and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice wan.

  “Taking you home…feeding you…and then, tucking you into bed.” He looked over as she started to protest, but he silenced her. “Nope, not a word. You need someone to look after you.”

  She remained silent for most of the drive home but, then, he heard her speak so softly, he had to strain to hear. “I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life.”

  His heart ached to hear the sadness in her voice, identifying with the words she said. “I know, Belle. But now…let me help. Please.”

  10

  Belle woke slowly, her eyelids heavy. She lay in bed for a moment, trying to remember what day it was and why she was still in bed when the daylight poured in through the slats in the blinds. Piece by piece, her memory slid back into place. The long night, sitting vigil by Mr. Rosenberg’s bed before he finally passed quietly in the early morning, just as the sun rose.

  Hunter sharing that experience with her before she collapsed at her car and he drove her home. He had fixed her a bowl of oatmeal and made her drink a glass of milk.

  She lifted the covers, checking her attire...a T-shirt and drawstring pajama bottoms. She did not remember changing out of her nursing scrubs, but refused to consider how else she might have gotten into her bedclothes.

  Focusing her eyes on the clock on her nightstand, she saw it was almost three p.m. Tossing back the covers, she climbed from bed and walked to the bathroom. Taking care of business, she splashed water on her face, holding a cold compress on her eyes for a moment.