The Beauty Series (25 page)

“Is she okay?” he asked against her hair.

“Yes, I—no, but—” And then all semblance of composure crumbled under the onslaught of his kindness. Tears sprang to her eyes, thick and hot. They wetted her cheeks and his shirt. Her breath couldn’t find a rhythm; it jumped and froze in erratic disarray. The sounds she made scared even herself—choking, gasping,
sobbing
and helpless with it.

Helpless, like she’d never wanted to be. Like she was. Like she
wasn’t
when he was near, because his broad embrace sheltered her. He steadied her.

It wasn’t the four hour drive that had confounded her as much as the knowledge that her mother was sick and she could do nothing to fix it. That hadn’t changed when she’d arrived at the hospital, and it didn’t change now that Blake was here. But he made the helplessness more bearable.

Her life was filled with opportunity, with joy. Her school, and soon to be her work. Her love for Blake. Her few but close friendships. But even the happiest song had a low note. And in deep, rumbling disquiet, she held tightly to him, finding refuge and temporary silence in his arms.

*     *     *

They weren’t sure
what her mother would be up for eating, so Blake grabbed five different options, along with full meals for Erin and himself. All of it balanced precariously on the two-foot cafeteria tray. He stood in line behind a heavyset woman with short grey hair. When the person in front had finished paying, they both shuffled forward. The grey-haired woman set her salad bowl down beside her plastic container of pudding and a bottle of water. She fumbled in her coin purse as the young, bored-looking lady at the cash register rang up the total to just over eight bucks.

More fumbling. “I forgot…ah, something on my salad. I just need to—”

As if realizing her excuses were falling on deaf ears, she quickly piled her items back into her arms and stepped away from the cash register. The lady at the cash register gave him an expectant look. Wordlessly, Blake slid forward and began to lay out his items for the lady to ring up, but he kept an eye on the grey-haired woman. She did return to the salad bar and added a spoonful of ham, as if committed to the lie now. It was clear to the cash register lady and to himself that she hadn’t had the right amount of money. She surreptitiously returned the water bottle and the pudding to their proper places before returning to the end of the line.

He leaned forward and spoke to the cashier in low tones. “I’d like to leave money for the bill behind me.”

Understanding lit the young woman’s eyes. “I can do that.”

“And if you could…” He grimaced, trying to think of a way to make it less like charity. He didn’t care; he wished he could leave more, but he suspected the grey-haired woman would mind. “If you could say it was a chain, all morning, people had done it, one after the other.”

The corner of her lip tipped up. “That’s sweet.”

He shook his head but didn’t answer. It wasn’t sweet or special to give away what he had in spades. It was a trust fund. Even what little he had earned as a soldier and his short stint as temporary professor was built on the back of a wealthy upbringing and no student debt. He understood his privilege, and though he enjoyed the finer things in life—like brandy and a game of pool, for example—he wouldn’t make a mockery of it.

Piling the bags and drinks in his arms, he passed the gift shop. Balloons. Damn it. Or flowers, at least. He always forgot. He was no good at this hospital stuff. His body had broken out in a cold sweat when he’d arrived in the parking lot, and a vice had clamped his throat when he’d walked inside. Still, his step hadn’t even slowed. He’d known Erin was inside. He would walk through the halls of hell for her, and he figured a hospital qualified as such. Gritting his teeth, he took the elevator up to the seventh floor.

It had been a relief to leave for a little while. He’d driven Erin to her mother’s apartment so she could shower and pick up a few necessities. The apartment was small, modest. Erin’s room still held swaths of pink reminiscent of a happy and hopeful teenage girl. It was the kitchen that had struck him most of all. His own kitchen was ridiculously large with an island and a wine fridge. This kitchen had been barely able to hold two people standing side by side. The small wedge of a countertop was covered with mail and keys and pens. There was no microwave. Whether in his family’s expensive home or in the bachelor pads of his Army buddies, there was always a microwave. Here there was simply no room for one. No TV dinners. He imagined a teenaged Erin cooking something small and light on the stovetop—soup or noodles. Not a bad life, but it was a splash of cold water on his face.

In the hallway, the ceiling was weighted down by something unknown, turned yellow and black. The toilet in the bathroom actually tilted at an angle. The whole apartment was falling down, in shambles, but his thoughts kept returning to that kitchen. An old magnetic picture frame held a picture of a childhood Erin with a huge grin and no front teeth. He imagined her pride in her home, her mother. He imagined someone ridiculing her, finding that weakness and using it to twist the knife.

He understood better why Erin had doubted them as a couple, what she’d doubted in him—and herself.
She might judge you,
she’d said about her mother, but what she’d really meant was that she herself had judged him. Ironically, his biggest fear, his face, had been nothing to her. Not even a hurdle. She’d been worried about status, about money, and he couldn’t care less. He’d rather give it away, give it to
her,
than let it stand between them. The barriers keeping her from him were crumbling now, slipping under their own weight—already gone.

After she’d had a chance to shower and change, they’d returned to the hospital, where she had rushed upstairs and he’d lingered downstairs to grab lunch. His footsteps slowed as he approached the hospital room.
Nervous about something?
he mocked himself. It appeared no matter how old he got, meeting the parents would always hold uncertainty. And, he had to admit, these were hardly ideal circumstances.

Knocking shortly on the door, he pushed inside. Erin’s mother, Sophia, was struggling with her pillow, sitting up in the hospital bed. Erin was nowhere to be seen. After a moment’s hesitation, he set the food down and went to help her. Making a small soothing sound, he tucked the pillow behind her and helped her lean back. She calmed under his slight touch, and he withdrew quickly. Not quickly enough.

“I remember you,” she said without opening her eyes. Her hair was darker than Erin’s, her face more weathered, but he could see the resemblance in the shape of her nose and the set of her mouth.

“We met earlier. I’m Blake.” Erin had insisted on introducing him this morning, but her mother had been too drowsy to register much.

“You’re her boyfriend. The one she didn’t tell me about. Why didn’t she tell me?”

Oh, he had plenty of guesses and none that he would say out loud. “We haven’t been seeing each other that long.”

“Long enough. I saw the way you looked at her. You love her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t
ma’am
me. You’re too old for that, and I’m not old enough.”

He allowed a small smile. “Sorry.”

She peeked an eye open at him. “What’s wrong with you that you’re so bad? And don’t tell me your scars. I wouldn’t even have known if she’d mentioned you over the phone.”

He cleared his throat. “I think she was worried you’d have a problem with my financial state.”

“Are you unemployed?”

Technically, he had been. Not anymore. Neither of those had been the problem. “My family is wealthy.”

Silence. Then, “I see.”

“That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“I hope you don’t think you’re going to throw your money around and get what you want.”

The only thing he wanted, he already had in the form of her daughter. Did twenty bucks in the cafeteria line count as throwing it around?

“No.” He bit his tongue to keep
ma’am
from coming out. It wasn’t a slight to her age, just a sign of respect that had been drilled into him in the military.

“Or making demands on Erin—”

“Of course not,” he cut in smoothly.

“Well.”

“Well,” he repeated. “I assured her that I’d win you over with my charm. Since I don’t have any charm, we’ll have to come to an understanding instead.”

She paused. “Are you threatening me?”

“I would never presume to.” At least partly because he had nothing to threaten her with. In fact, he wanted to get along with her, he hoped to. But he wasn’t going to let anyone get between him and Erin, not even the woman who’d raised her.

Her expression was mildly pissed off. And amused. He’d seen that exact smile on Erin, and it meant he was off the hook. Of course, that didn’t prove anything. Erin liked him a lot better than this woman did.

She managed to look intimidating from her supine position. “It’s no business of mine what’s in your bank account, but if you hurt her, I will find you.”

He let the threat hang in the air. She was short and slight. At a disadvantage financially and socially. There was nothing she could do to him, and they both knew it, but the intensity, the
worry
in her eyes squeezed a fist around his heart. He understood how much she cared for her daughter. He appreciated that she’d raised her to be strong, and smart, and confident. Now that was his job. His responsibility, his privilege.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, because she’d given him an order and he swore to follow it. He would have done it anyway. Nothing was more important to him than Erin’s safety and happiness. But if it set her mind at ease, he let his resolve show in his eyes. She studied him—his direct gaze, his disfigured skin. She didn’t flinch, but then he already knew Erin had come from tough stock.

“You’ll do,” she finally said.

Well, at least that part was worked out.

Now they needed to make sure she was discharged and healthy. He also needed to speak privately with Erin, to somehow make it up to her that he hadn’t been around when she needed him. And to double-check that she knew he hadn’t been cheating during that time. He had a full day ahead of him, basically.

Turning to the plastic bags, he began to pull out options. “We have Jello. Yogurt with granola topping. Tapioca pudding.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. Wordlessly, he found the container with his own loaded cheeseburger and flipped it open.

With a relieved sigh, she accepted it. “You and I just might get along after all.”

*     *     *

The county hospital
was an old building that, if Erin were honest, was better suited to a prison than a hospital. Its rectangular shape bled inward with concentric rectangular hallways. She stood on the outmost ring, where thin, barred windows drew afternoon light onto the grey rubber floors.

“Ms. Raider.”

Dr. Parkins had grey hair, an ever-present clipboard, and a kind smile. What the building lacked in charm, the people made up for with their thoughtful care for her mother.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, definitely. I’ve just been in to see your mother. Her condition is improving and we’re moving forward to the recovery phase.”

Relief swept through her. Her mother had seemed good during lunch, even making light conversation with Blake, but she was glad to have it confirmed. “That’s wonderful. When can she go home?”

“She can be discharged as soon as tomorrow, but she’ll need a high level of support. She shouldn’t be up and walking around for another week or two.”

“I understand,” she promised. “I’ll stay with her.”

After a few more instructions, the doctor started to walk away.

“Um, Doctor?” She felt weird asking him this, but she’d made two full circuits around the hospital and hadn’t found what she needed. “Can you tell me where the restrooms are?”

He smiled kindly. “They’re on the other side, near the elevators. But there’s a smaller one down that hallway, third door on the right.”

She made her way down the small offshoot hallway and came in sight of a large, thick window with no bars. It overlooked the city, in all its glory—or lack thereof. She could recognize many of the old buildings downtown and even the stadium of her high school, which was larger and taller than the school’s building. The mostly flat skyline filled her with a sense of nostalgia for a simpler time and a smaller world. Now that she’d seen what lay beyond, she knew she’d never move back to this town. Still, she felt gratitude for the mostly happy childhood it had given her.

A few chairs were lined up against the wall, and unlike those in the main waiting area, these were empty. She passed a utility closet stacked with white sheets and what appeared to be hospital gowns before finding the restroom.

After, she washed her hands and studied herself in the small mirror. No surprises there; she looked exhausted. She
felt
exhausted but also pleased. Her mother was well, even though there was her recovery to oversee. Blake was with her, even though they still needed to talk privately. Things weren’t perfect. Even better, they were real.

As she stepped outside, she almost averted her gaze when she noticed someone else in the hallway. Then she paused.

“Blake?”

He turned at the sound of her voice. “What are you doing back here?’

He had been looking out the large window, his body drawn in lines of tension, leaning toward the window as if he could break free. His eyes were clouded with something dark and unsettled.

She gestured vaguely. “The restroom. Are you okay?”

“Of course.”

But he wasn’t. She took a step forward. “You know, with Doug. Nothing happened.”

He turned to look at her. “I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I know I have to make that up to you.”

“No. It’s not like that. I just didn’t want you to doubt me…” The way she had doubted him once.

His smile was wry. “I was playing pool, if you were wondering.”

“I did wonder…but I wouldn’t have accused you of anything. I trust you.”