Project Love (Cascade Brides Series) (17 page)

Her hands were beginning to stiffen with cold. Charity
knew it was warmer inside the building, but she didn't want to take
one step closer to a place she didn't want to be, period.

After another ten
minutes, the cold forced her hand.
I can just leave the
folder at the desk. The nurse will give it to him when he comes
.

Charity pulled open the
door and slipped inside. The familiar scent assaulted her nose and
her heart thudded with dread.
I don't like it here. I don't
like it here
.

With a purposeful stride, she headed to the front desk.

Which was empty.

Charity bit her lip and
looked around. There was another nurse's station down the hall. That
was probably a better place to leave the folder anyway. But it was
also closer to Evelyn's room.
I don't want to run into
Daniel if I don't have to. At this point that would only be more
awkward
.

Around her orderlies passed by or wheeled residents to
some other part of the building. Instrumental music came through
hidden speakers but did little to ease her anxiety. Charity took a
deep breath. She had no real choice but to take the folder to the
desk despite any risk of running into Daniel. Straightening her
shoulders, she headed down the hall, its tiles gleaming from overhead
skylights.

A nurse at the desk looked up at her approach.

“
Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

“
Hi, I was wondering if I could leave a package for
one of your visitors, Daniel Tabor.”

The nurse's brows knitted. “Oh, well, we usually don't
hold items for visitors. Is it for lost and found?”

Charity cleared her throat. “I know Mr. Tabor visits
here on Sundays and I just wanted to drop off some paperwork of his
while he's here. I can't stay so I was hoping—”

“
Mr. Tabor isn't here today.”

She stared at the nurse. “What? He never misses!”

The woman nodded. “I believe this is the first time
he's been unable to come. He called in to say he's ill and didn't
want to expose Mrs. Anderson unnecessarily.”

“
Mrs. Anderson? Is...that Evelyn?”

Another nod.

“
Is Mr. Tabor's illness serious?”

“
Ma'am, it appears I'm unable to help you with your
need today. I suggest you follow up with Mr. Tabor directly.”

Charity touched a hand to her head, trying to get her
bearings. How sick was Daniel? If he was able to call in, that most
likely meant he wasn't in the hospital or anything like that. She
hoped. Then again, he wouldn't simply scuttle his visit to Evelyn if
he wasn't truly feeling crummy.

She had an impulse to
go to him. Did he have anyone to check on him? Would he even want to
see her?
I don't know what to do
.

“
Ma'am, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“
Um...” Charity shook her head and stepped away from
the desk. Then a new thought occurred to her. “So, Evelyn hasn't
had a visitor today?”

The nurse regarded her with a blank expression. “No.”

Heart pounding hard, Charity knew there was something
she could do—something to ease Daniel's mind. He would be very
upset at having to miss this visit. She closed her eyes briefly,
fighting an urge to run from the home. Quelling her panicked
thoughts, she composed her expression and turned back to the nurse.
“Um, excuse me...I've sat with Evelyn when I've been here with
Daniel.” She swallowed. Hard. “I have a few minutes. Would I be
able to sit with her?”

The nurse's gaze sharpened. Charity knew she'd been
caught in a falsehood after just saying she didn't have time to wait
for Daniel.

After a long moment, the woman sighed and motioned to
the door. “Keep it open. I'll be in to check on her in a few
minutes.”

With a deepening
apprehension, Charity now had no choice but to take the last few
steps to Evelyn's room.
What have I gotten myself into?
Daniel won't even know I was here, so this is a complete waste of
time
.

Her fears were realized when she stepped in the doorway.
Sitting up in her bed, Evelyn shifted at the sound of footsteps, but
her eyes remained unfocused. The blanket began to move and her hand
emerged, groping in the air like something separate from the woman in
the bed.

Charity walked on unsteady legs to the chair that was
positioned next to the bed. “Um, Daniel couldn't be here today and
he's very sorry.” Her voice came out sounding rusted. “Is it all
right if I sit with you?”

No response aside from the grasping hand.

Charity sent up a pleading little prayer then lowered
herself onto the chair. She pulled in another breath and reached out
for the woman's hand. Suddenly her fingers were caught in a startling
grip. Charity had to force herself not to recoil. She stared down at
the brown-speckled skin, saw the winding blue veins pushing through
the thin, dry flesh. Saw the bruising from injections and frailty.

But old age had nothing to do with what bothered her.

It was the woman's desperation toward a stranger—and
how it didn't matter who held her hand as long as someone did.
Anyone.

As Evelyn's grip quivered in hers, Charity had to look
away.

What did she do before Daniel? How long has she been
here in the facility?

How has she found herself in this position? Where is
her family?

Is she all alone?

Charity looked hard at the generic nature painting on
the wall until the colors began to blur together.

How does Daniel stand it week after week?

Maybe he's sympathetic because his brother was taken
from him
.

She sniffed quietly, hoping no one noticed her distress.

I left my sisters willingly. And why wouldn't I? They
were mean and condescending and I was sick of being treated that way.
Why would I want to spend another moment with people like that?
Life's too short to put up with that kind of nonsense
.

Her sisters had most
likely matured some by now but that didn't mean they wouldn't fall
into old patterns and treat her like the runt of the litter.
No,
thank you
. Charity gritted her
teeth, wishing she could think of something else.

But in walking away from her sisters, she was reminded
of doing the same to Daniel. When things got too serious, she'd
hidden behind some lame excuse. A heaviness descended upon her,
making her heart pound erratically in her chest. An overwhelming
desperation made her want to run from this place. Run back to her
shabby chic bedroom and crawl under her covers until these awful
feelings went away.

As if Evelyn could read her thoughts, her grip tightened
even more, threatening the circulation in Charity's hand.

Oh, God, I can't do this. I can't be what this woman
needs me to be. I can't stay here
.

Her respiration increased until she feared she'd lose
control altogether. She glanced at Evelyn, struggling to form the
words to say she was leaving.

I have to go because you and your desperation
embarrass me.

I can't bear to see someone so needy
.

The woman tilted her head and looked straight at her,
making Charity's thoughts freeze. The watery, rheumy gaze pierced her
soul. There was no apology in her eyes, no excuse. Just raw, naked
need.

Charity stared back.
I
don't want to end up like you.

I don't want to be you.

Before she could make sense of the burgeoning emotions
within her, she began to cry. Evelyn continued to stare at her as if
she were just another wall enclosed around her. Charity tipped her
head forward, helpless against the gulps and sobs that tore from her
heart. Tears streamed down her cheeks, running into her mouth and off
her chin. She cried until she began to feel faint with the effort.
Horror at her loss of control competed for humiliation. To break down
in front of a lonely old woman was as ironic as it was mortifying—not
that Evelyn seemed to notice.

As the flow of tears finally stemmed Charity looked up
at her. The woman's gaze dropped to their joined hands. Charity felt
a small squeeze. As she stared at the twisted fingers curved around
her own, she suddenly wondered if Evelyn was trying to offer comfort.

The notion started the tears all over again. Charity
reached out with her other hand and covered Evelyn's. All at once she
was grateful for the comfort offered by another soul. Moisture ran
down her face unchecked for several more minutes until her lap was
dotted with wetness.

Sniffing hard, she spoke Evelyn's name. No response.
Charity pulled in a cleansing breath and regarded the now bent head.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for being here for me.”

After a moment, Evelyn's grip slowly lessened until
Charity knew she was being let go. Instead of yanking her hand away
in relief, she gave a final squeeze and drew her hand from the
woman's.

As she stood, Evelyn eased back until her head was on
her pillow. Her eyes were still unfocused, but Charity was sure she
saw a flicker of emotion there. Touching her shoulder, Charity turned
and picked up the folder where it lay on the floor.

She walked out of the room, wiping her sleeves over her
cheeks. There was no one at the nurse's station but she spied a box
of tissues. Charity grabbed several and dabbed at her eyes as she
walked back to the lobby of the care home, feeling detached from her
surroundings.

All the way home as the wind whipped at her hair and
cold rain drops found their way down the collar of her coat, she
walked, unsure of what had happened. She only knew she felt a measure
of comfort. Of reassurance.

And yet there was a sense of disquiet, as if she wasn't
through yet.

Charity wearily climbed the four stories to her door and
let herself in. She went into her room and dropped onto the side of
her bed. Her coat was wet, her hair was wet...her face was wet too,
but she didn't know if it was from the rain or tears. Stifling a
shiver, she shrugged out of her coat and pulled a wool sweater from
her dresser drawer. She yanked it over her head and wrapped her arms
around her waist, waiting for it to impart some warmth.

All of a sudden she yearned for hot scones and tea.

***

Daniel tilted his head back from the couch where he sat
watching a ballgame. Watching only. The sound was turned down. Sounds
were not good to his throbbing head. But the quiet meant he'd heard
the light tap at his front door.

He frowned and glanced at his watch. It was nearly six
although the gloomy weather made it as dark as night. A fresh bout of
coughing caught him by surprise and it took him a minute to rise
slowly from the couch and tack his way across the small living room.

When he peeked past the curtain, he was shocked to
glimpse Charity standing on his dark porch. Daniel flipped on the
porch light and opened the door.

“
Charity—” But that was as far as he got before he
began coughing again. Turning away, he covered his mouth with his
shirt sleeve. When he regained his composure he looked at her again.
Her dark eyes seemed tired and her cheeks were red from the cold.
“Come in,” he said quickly, standing to one side. “But I'm
kinda sick and I might be contagious.”

Charity responded by stepping into the room. It was then
he realized she carried a wicker basket in her arms.

“
I brought you some...stuff,” she said quietly,
staring up at him with some undefined emotion in her eyes.

He closed the door. “Oh. Thank you. That was very
thoughtful.”

“
You don't know what I brought,” she said, sounding
almost frustrated. “I could've brought like...a bomb.”

The unexpected statement brought a weak smile to his
face. “In a wicker basket?”

She sighed. “Okay, it's not a bomb.”

Daniel took the basket and walked into the dining room.
“I didn't really think so.”

Charity followed him and regarded him without a trace of
amusement in her expression. “Why?”

She looked adorable in her brightly knit cap, over-sized
wool sweater, and loose cargo pants. A long striped scarf around her
neck hung almost to her knees. He was overcome with a longing to pull
her into his arms. Only his cold stopped him. Instead he drank in the
sight of her, realizing he'd missed her more than he'd imagined.
“Why?” he finally said. “Because you're a nice person and you
wouldn't want to hurt me.”

“
Are you sure about that?” she asked glumly.

Daniel's heart went out to her. “Case in point. I
smell scones.”

With a sigh of resignation, Charity opened the basket
and pulled out a plastic container fogged with steam. “Scones,”
she said, setting them on the table.