If Not for You Page 8

  Straightening, Sam grabbed hold of the rag tucked in the back pocket of his overalls and wiped his hands clean. While he worked to keep his nails and cuticles free of grease, it was an endless task. He thought about Beth’s hands so perfectly shaped, soft and small. He marveled that she could play the piano with hands that delicate. Funny thing, he barely knew her, but she never seemed far from his thoughts. It’d been a long time since a woman had stayed in his mind the way Beth did.

  Rocco handed the paperwork off to one of Sam’s crew and then approached him.

  “Hey,” Rocco said.

  “Hey.” He responded with their traditional greeting.

  “How’s it going?”

  Sam continued to wipe his hands. “Good. You?”

  “Good. You got a minute?”

  “Sure. What you need?”

  Rocco walked over to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. He motioned toward Sam, silently asking if he wanted one.

  Sam shook his head. “No thanks.” His friend didn’t seem himself and looked uncomfortable. Sam noticed how Rocco glanced around as if to be sure they had privacy.

  “You sure everything is okay?” Sam asked, curious now. “Matthew’s ear infection over?”

  “Yeah, yeah, all’s well.” Rocco leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. He seemed to find something interesting to look at in the cup.

  Knowing him as well as he did, Sam figured his friend was gathering his thoughts. Rocco’s frown thickened as if he wasn’t sure where to start.

  Sam waited, thinking if he gave Rocco enough silence the guy would eventually get around to what he wanted to say.

  Rocco straightened and looked up. “Nichole mentioned you’ve been up to see Beth every day since the accident.”

  Sam stiffened slightly. “Yeah. What of it?” He didn’t mean to sound defensive, but realized he probably did.

  “You like her?”

  “Not going there for the ambiance,” Sam returned sarcastically.

  Rocco grimaced. “Right.”

  “Beth’s great,” Sam said, unsure where this discussion was leading. At this point he wasn’t sure what Rocco’s intentions were.

  “You feel sorry for her?”

  “Of course I do. The only relative she has in town is her aunt.”

  “Ever met the aunt?”

  “Yeah. Her name’s Sunshine; found out she’s an artist. From what Beth tells me, her work sells for big bucks. Never heard of her myself, so I went online; she’s good, real good. Guess no one would pay that much for one of her pieces if she wasn’t.”

  “When did you meet the aunt?”

  “Second time I was there. Beth’s coming along nicely now. The staff have her up and taking steps with a walker. Hard to believe they make her walk so soon after the surgery.” Sam was proud of her; it hadn’t been easy, and it was clear walking was more than a little uncomfortable for her.

  Rocco nodded and looked down at his feet. “I have to tell you I’m worried.”

  “You? About Beth?” Right away Sam wondered if Rocco knew something about Beth’s condition that he didn’t. Perhaps she’d hidden something from him regarding her injuries. It seemed her progress was slow, but then he was no medical expert and he wasn’t sure what to expect as normal. “She’s healing the way she should, isn’t she?”

  “Far as I know.”

  “Then what’s wrong? Is it something to do with her job? The school hired a substitute teacher to cover for her. Beth told me she can have her job back once she’s able to return to work.”

  His friend refused to meet his gaze. “It’s not about her job and it isn’t about her family, either.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Sam wished his friend would get to his point instead of hedging. If there was a problem, then he wanted—no, he needed—to know what it was.

  Rocco inhaled a deep breath and then blurted out, “I’m concerned you’re visiting Beth because you feel sorry for her.”

  “I do feel bad for her. So what?” He had a whole plethora of feelings for Beth. He liked her a whole lot more than he ever expected he would. He loved watching her face light up like a Christmas tree the instant he walked in the door. A couple times he hesitated before coming into the room, anticipating that smile, wanting to hold on to it for a few extra seconds. Her smile did amazing things to his heart. Just seeing it made him happy, but he wasn’t telling Rocco that, or anyone else, for that matter.

  “What about when she’s recovered and her life is back to normal?” Rocco asked.

  Sam crossed his arms, disliking these questions. “What about it?”

  “How are you going to feel about her then?” the other man asked, more to the point.

  Sam shrugged. “How do I know? We aren’t there yet.”

  Rocco’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was unsure how to respond.

  This was getting a little too personal and Sam took exception. He wasn’t entirely sure what Rocco was trying to say and found himself getting irritated. Rocco might be his best friend, but he was crossing the line.

  Rocco looked about as uncomfortable as Sam could ever remember.

  “The thing is, Sam, this isn’t like you.”

  “So?”

  “So,” he said, raising his voice, “don’t lead her on, okay?”

  “I’m not leading her on. The most I’ve done is kiss her forehead when she was asleep.”

  “That’s just it, buddy. Beth is at a vulnerable point, and here you are, her white knight, bringing her roses and—”

  “One rose,” he interrupted, bristling. “I brought her one fricken rose.”

  “And it was red,” Rocco returned just as quickly.

  “So it was red, big deal. It was the only color the gift shop had.” Now that he thought about it, maybe there’d been other colors. That rose just happened to be in the front of the case and the one he reached for.

  “And now here you are paying her all this attention. Beth stuck in the hospital—”

  “Rehab facility,” he corrected. “She was moved there this afternoon.”

  “Whatever,” Rocco muttered. “You get my point. She’s a captive audience and I’m afraid once Beth doesn’t need you any longer you’ll conveniently forget about her.” Rocco exhaled slowly. “Trust me, I didn’t want to have this conversation. You’re as good a friend as I’ve ever had. I know you practically as well as I know myself.”

  Rocco did know him, no argument there.

  “You told Beth you don’t do relationships and I haven’t seen you in one since—”

  “I get the point,” Sam said gruffly, cutting him off. He didn’t need any reminders of Trish and his last disastrous affair.

  “I didn’t want to have this conversation, but I felt I had to even if it meant butting into your business. It’s your life and I feel like crap even mentioning it. Nichole thinks I should stay out of it and she’s probably right. From what you said, it sounds like this isn’t anything beyond friendship for you. I’m afraid it’s becoming more for Beth.”

  “In other words, you’re suggesting I cool the visits?”

  “That’s up to you. I said what I had to say, the rest is your call.”

  “Got it.” Sam exhaled.

  “We good?” Rocco asked, his gaze holding Sam’s.

  He didn’t respond right away, thinking about what his friend had said.

  “Listen, Sam, if I’ve offended you—”

  Sam cut him off. “We’re good.”

  Rocco left soon afterward and Sam was left deep in thought. He returned to the Cadillac with the electrical problem and stared at it for several minutes until one of the other mechanics came to ask him a question and broke him out of his trance.

  When he sat down with his lunch, he took a seat outside away from the rest of his crew while he mulled over his conversation with Rocco. Hard as it was to admit, it was time he came to his senses. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Sam liked Beth; she was surprisingly good com
pany. He did feel bad about her situation, but he was no superhero ready to leap in and save the day.

  From what little Beth had told him, she’d downplayed her injuries to her parents and Sunshine was out of town. Reading between the lines, he suspected they had been suffocating her for most of her life. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on between Beth and her parents, but what little she’d mentioned said a lot.

  He reached for his phone and was about to send her a text. He typed it out, and then for reasons he couldn’t explain even to himself, he decided to phone instead.

  “Sam?” Beth answered, and he could hear a smile in her voice, although it felt a bit anxious. “Is it your lunch break?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m glad you phoned.”

  Sam exhaled slowly, feeling foolish. Rocco was right. The last thing he wanted or needed was emotional entanglements. “I thought I should let you know I’ve got something tonight and I won’t be by.”

  A short pause and then, “Okay, sure.”

  Now he was the one who was disappointed. While he’d never admit this to Rocco, he’d been looking forward to surprising Beth. He planned to bring her a thick vanilla malt from his favorite mom-and-pop stand in celebration of her release from the hospital.

  “You understand, right?”

  His words fell heavy between them and hung there for a long moment. Beth finally spoke.

  “Of course,” she assured him. She didn’t sound quite like herself, though.

  Sam feared there was something she wasn’t telling him. “Everything’s okay?”

  “Of course.” The words sounded strained, as if she was having trouble speaking.

  He exhaled, worried now that she hadn’t taken the news well.

  “It’s fine, Sam,” she assured him softly. “Really.”

  He was going to miss seeing her. “When you being released?” he asked, in order to keep her on the line.

  “I…I don’t know yet. Soon, I suppose.”

  Maybe he’d just space out his visits moving forward. “I’ll stop by the rehab center sometime…maybe later in the week.”

  “Sure, that would be great.”

  They said their good-byes and Sam slipped his phone back into his pocket. He set his half-eaten sandwich aside and, deep in thought, he leaned forward. If Rocco was going to worry about anyone getting hurt in this relationship, or non-relationship, or whatever the hell was happening between him and Beth, his friend should be more concerned about him.

  —

  Sam got through the rest of the day and noticed his crew went out of their way to give him space. Apparently, they recognized his mood wasn’t the best. Filling out the last of his paperwork, Sam headed home and then decided what he needed was a beer at The Dog House. He hadn’t been by his favorite watering hole since Beth’s accident.

  He found parking on the street and Al, the bartender, raised his hand when he saw Sam.

  “Hey, where you been?”

  “Around.” Sam slid onto a stool, not looking for conversation.

  Al didn’t bother to ask him what he wanted to drink. Sam was a good enough customer that the bartender already knew. Within a couple minutes of his arrival, Sam had a mug in his hand. He looked up at the big-screen television above the bar and listened to the commentator analyzing the previous weekend’s preseason football games. Sam liked football about as much as he did beer, and normally what the pros had to say riveted his attention.

  Not so this evening. Again and again, Sam’s thoughts went back to Beth in that care facility, listening to her iPod. Before he’d left, Beth had told him the title was Courage. He didn’t remember the composer’s name, but apparently it was one of those classic compositions she liked so well. Definitely not his thing. Though that was unfair, seeing that he had never heard it.

  Cherise slid onto the stool next to him. “Sam, been missing you,” she said and slid her arm down his back. She hung around the tavern and liked to think he had feelings for her. Sam didn’t.

  “You working too hard, baby?” she asked.

  He ignored her. “Not in the mood,” he muttered, doing his best to ignore her.

  “I can make it better, you know I can.”

  Sam shook his head, and despite himself, he smiled. “Not this time.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.” The contrast between her and Beth was night and day. Beth was clean and fresh like springtime. Cherise was the last dregs of winter, her beauty fading, her appeal melting. His stomach tightened. He’d been away from Beth for less than twenty-four hours and already he missed her. All morning he’d been looking forward to her smile.

  Cherise slid off the stool and rested her chin on the curve of his shoulder. “You call me if you need me, okay?”

  He nodded, but he wasn’t going to. He knew what he needed and that was seeing Beth.

  Cherise drifted over to the pool table and started up a conversation with another of the regulars.

  The thought of Beth sitting in the convalescent center alone, putting on a brave front, twisted his gut. He didn’t know where this relationship was going, but he was determined to be careful. Nichole was right to be worried. Sam had to be sure he wasn’t leading Beth on when he had no intention of getting romantically involved with her. He had to make sure she didn’t get emotionally attached to him. If necessary, he’d talk to Nichole himself and reassure her.

  His phone rang and he saw that it was Nichole. He didn’t answer. Having her jawing at him held little appeal. After a few rings it went to voicemail. She didn’t leave him a message and he was grateful.

  A minute later, Nichole sent him a text. Call me ASAP.

  Sam stared at the message for several seconds before he typed back. Problem?

  With Beth.

  Again he studied the message, growing more irritated by the moment.

  What kind of problem?

  Call from aunt. Complication—life threatening.

  Sam wasn’t sure what Nichole was telling him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He punched the button that would connect him with his best friend’s wife. Nichole picked up on the second ring. Matthew was screaming in the background.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Is Beth okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Sam demanded. “What’s wrong?”

  Matthew’s wailing was making it difficult for Sam to hear Nichole, let alone make sense of what she was saying.

  “Sunshine reached out to me about Beth.”

  “She’s been released to the care facility, hasn’t she?”

  “No,” Nichole explained. “That’s just it.”

  Her words came jerky, as if she was bouncing Matthew on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort him so she could talk.

  “Sunshine got word a blood clot has developed in Beth’s lung.”

  “What?” Sam was stunned and nearly speechless. “I spoke to her earlier this afternoon and she…” He hesitated. He remembered she hadn’t sounded like herself and he’d assumed it was disappointment. Twice he thought he might have heard her take deep breaths, but at the time he hadn’t given it a second thought.

  “It’s a dangerous complication, Sam.”

  Sam leaped to his feet. He slapped a few dollars down on the bar and started toward the door.

  “I’m on my way.”

  “I can’t leave. Matthew is running a fever again and Rocco’s at work. I didn’t know who to call.”

  “You did the right thing. I’m on my way.”

  “If you’d rather not go…” Nichole said, sounding uncertain.

  “What part of ‘I’m on my way’ don’t you understand?” he shouted.

  Nichole sighed. “Thank you, Sam. Once you see her, will you contact Sunshine? She’s worried sick.”

  “Will do,” he said and disconnected.

  Sam probably broke every driving law in the books getting to Providence Hospital. Once he arrived he h
it the door with both hands, slamming it so hard he was surprised the glass didn’t shatter. He raced toward the elevator and repeatedly stabbed the button. When it wasn’t fast enough to suit him, he headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the floor where Beth’s room was. By then his heart pounded like a locomotive and his breath came in pants. He needed to be sure Beth was all right, barely understanding why it felt as if his own life was in danger.

  CHAPTER 9

  Beth

  “Sam.” Beth breathed his name, unable to hide her surprise. He’d said he wasn’t coming and now all of a sudden he was here. He looked as if he’d run the entire way, his shoulders heaving with exertion.

  Closing her eyes, Beth wanted to hide beneath the sheets. She looked and felt dreadful. When he’d phoned earlier to tell her he wouldn’t be by as planned, she was almost relieved. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what. He must have sensed it, too, because he made a point of asking her if she was okay. It was later after the call that everything had taken a turn for the worse.

  “What happened?” he asked, coming close to the bed. He reached for her hand, holding it tightly in his own, pressing it against his chest. She could feel his racing heart and tried to reassure him with a soft smile.

  The oxygen tube in her nose was uncomfortable, but it helped to ease her breathing, which had become painful and difficult. “I have a pulmonary embolism,” she said, and because she didn’t know what that was when it was first mentioned, she added, “That’s a blood clot in my lung. Apparently, it isn’t uncommon when someone has a hip fracture.”

  “This pulmonary thing is dangerous?”

  “So they say.” Actually, she’d looked it up on Safari on her phone and learned more than she cared to know. She was being treated now and closely monitored, but this complication was likely to add four additional days to her hospital stay.

  “I sensed something was wrong this afternoon when I called,” Sam said. “You seemed to be having trouble breathing.”

  She lowered her eyes. “Yeah, but no one knew why, at least not right away. My oxygen levels dropped significantly and the nurse in charge phoned my doctor, and then everyone started rushing around. I had a number of tests, starting with a chest X-ray and then an electrocardiogram.”