Bad Traveler (12 page)

“I labored away by myself for hours, and Cody showed up about sunrise. By that time, I was in the recovery room, and Chloe’s birth was a matter of record. He apologized, but when he leaned over to kiss me, he reeked of a strange perfume.

“Six weeks later, I’m doing laundry in the middle of the night. Cody worked crazy hours, but still needed his laundry done. When Chloe cried, he left rather than helped out. I figured it would pass. Not all fathers bond instantly with infants. But I grew bitter at home and at work. The boss’s daughter neglected to do the parts of my job she should have, so I worked extra and even brought work home to try and sort it all out. After Chloe’s midnight nursing, I folded laundry or put away the dishes in an effort to bring some order to the house. I noticed a stain on a pair of Cody’s briefs. It was bright pink, the exact same gaudy shade of neon preferred by the boss’s daughter. Everything clicked.”

“That B— Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I spent another couple of weeks considering my options and using the investigational tools available to me—phone records to support my accusations. I confronted them. The little tramp confessed to the affair and bragged that she’d ‘fucked him good’ the night I labored in the hospital. She confirmed my suspicions, but hearing the words aloud still hurt.”

“Gwen, I’m so sorry you went through that.” His voice sounded tender, but a peek at his face, softly lit from the dashboard, revealed his inner tension. If she didn’t keep talking, he might break down.

“Don’t be. It brought me here, didn’t it? We’re getting close to the hospital now. I better finish up. I put together my plans to leave and gave notice at work. It takes longer to run away when you run for two. My employers figured out what had occurred when their daughter paraded Cody through their house a few days later. They fired me and gave me a generous severance package that included the bakery equipment I brought with me. I think they felt guilty for what their daughter did. Cody tried once to apologize, but I refused to see him. I even got the apartment manager to change the lock since it was my name on the lease.

“I gave his mother, who truly loves Chloe, my father’s office address and a private e-mail address, so we could keep in touch. Cody got nothing, which is precisely what he deserves.”

She put her hand on his arm as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. In her babbling, she said too much, but maybe not enough. “Rough as that time was, I’m glad it happened. I have Chloe and a new appreciation for my family and their support through the years. They welcomed their prodigal daughter with open arms and helped me fulfill my dream of my own bakery. And then, there is you.”

With the car stopped, he met her gaze. Something indefinable simmered between them. She wasn’t sure if it was love, but that seemed like the right word. With a glance from him, her heart fluttered, and it melted when he tended to Chloe. What could she offer him in exchange for all he gave her?

“Let’s go make sure Coach Meyer is okay.”

“Thanks, Gwen. You’re my rock.”

Her cheeks burned. Was that what love was? Mutual rocks?

***

She held his hand as they passed through more sliding doors than he could count. In different circumstances, the feel of her thumb rubbing small circles around his knuckle would have assisted arousal, but the action reassured him. The receptionist pointed them toward the visitors’ waiting area. One of the other assistant coaches was already there, but Rich didn’t know anything except where to find the vending machines.

“I’m going to call home and check on Chloe. Be right back.”

He considered it unfair to his own father to call Coach a father figure, and yet, his affection for the man went beyond a working relationship. Coach Meyer was more a curmudgeonly grandfather or cantankerous uncle. He cursed and yelled, but he got the job done, dispensing wisdom and understated praise as warranted.

Through his four years of playing for Corwin, he’d played hard. Other players had possessed more talent, and he sat deep on the bench, but it didn’t matter. His gritted determination earned him the admiration of Coach Meyer and his teammates. He learned how to trust his instincts and be a leader of men, skills he relied upon during his special-ops missions. Sometimes during practice, Coach Meyer had joked he would call him when he needed an assistant coach. He laughed it off, but when he’d called a year ago, Kyle had jumped at the chance. The timing had been perfect.

Gwen returned, taking the seat beside him. “Any news?”

“No. You?”

“Mom panicked when I said I was at the hospital, but I explained the situation. Chloe drank about a quarter of the bottle I left, but better than nothing. Mom said she fussed a bit at first, but fell asleep within fifteen minutes of lying in her crib.”

“Is that good?”

“I’m not sure whether to be relieved or sad she went down so easily without me.”

He lifted her hand to his lips.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

Me, too
. They held hands, which helped, but his good leg bounced nervously. He hated hospitals. The smell of disinfectant and the sight of mysterious doors and of nurses and doctors rushing through an unending maze of pale-colored corridors took him to places and times best left unremembered. His stump itched with phantom muscle-memory.
Focus on Coach
. The man who gave him a second chance.

Gwen offered comfort. The night wasn’t going according to his plan, but she stayed. He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, letting the smell of her shampoo override all other odors.
Strawberries
. She deserved some luscious red ones for Valentine’s Day. If he didn’t repulse her beforehand.

“Coach is a special guy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Did I ever tell you how I got on the team?”

“No. Tell me.”

How could he refuse her? “I marched into his office during orientation and announced I wanted to walk on. Coach looked me up and down—I was a skinny freshman in my khaki uniform—and grunted twice.”

“You always made that uniform look good. It was distracting.”

“You might have told me.” Her blush confirmed she looked good in pink. Maybe he should tell her he still had that uniform. Well, not that particular one. He’d grown since then.

She snuggled against him, nuzzling her rosy cheek against his shoulder. “About Coach?”

“Right. He turned away and began digging in some files. He asked if I’d be able to keep my grades up ‘in the unlikely event I made the team.’ I said yes, and next thing I knew, he flung a ball over his shoulder. I caught it. He barked, ‘Thursday three p.m.’ Then I noticed the mirror near the ceiling. He was smirking, having watched me the entire time. When he called last year—”

The squeak of the double doors dragged Kyle’s thoughts back to the present. Nancy Meyer’s rotund figure entered the waiting room, her eyes red and puffy.

“Rich, Kyle, thank goodness you’re here.” Rich reached her first. Nancy collapsed against him, sobbing. Kyle placed his arm around her shoulder and guided her to a seat, trying to give Rich’s suit a break. Gwen disappeared, but her purse lay on the floor.

“It was awful!” Nancy gasped between deep sobs. “He said he wanted to lie down after dinner because he wasn’t feeling well, and then he collapsed on the stairs. The ambulance men had a terrible time getting him out of the stairwell.”

He patted her back. She turned her head to cry on his shoulder, her tears and who knows what else soaking through his shirt. “There, there. Let it all out.”

Rich slithered away.

When Gwen returned, she brought bottled water and a tissue box she set on his lap. He offered Nancy a tissue. She blew her nose and looked up, blinking and squinting at Gwen.

“Mrs. Meyer, this is my….” He hesitated, wondering if girlfriend over or understated their relationship.

She extended her hand and a bottle of water. “I’m Gwendolyn Jones. I own the Sweet Spot on Central. Is there anything else I can get for you? Coffee?”

He couldn’t think of anyone better to offer comfort.

Nancy sniffled. “Thank you, dear. Water is fine.”

He waited until she regained some semblance of composure. “How is he?”

“The doctors are cautiously hopeful. He is stabilized, but they will run more tests in the morning.” Tears welled in her eyes. “He might need bypass surgery. I don’t want to lose him.” She doubled over, and her body heaved from the effort of sobbing.

Gwen slipped on the other side of Nancy, offering a hug. Rich was nowhere to be seen. This was about Coach, not Rich’s discomfort with Nancy. After a while, one of the nurses emerged from the set of double doors and let Nancy know her husband was awake.

Rich reappeared as soon as Nancy left. Kyle gripped his fingers into a fist as Rich ogled Gwen. He was slimy when it came to women. Although married, Rich had a fondness for college coeds willing to flash the camera in a drunken stupor. He had an extensive video collection he showed off at every opportunity.

“I doubt this was how you wanted your hot date to go, hey, Kyle? You two can scoot off and get back to business so to speak. I’ll wait. The old ball and chain is driving me nuts these days.”

If anyone deserved a shut up smack, it was Rich. He suspected Coach Meyer kept him around because of his success conditioning the athletes in the weight room. It couldn’t be his charming demeanor or ethics.

“Thanks for your concern.” He met Gwen’s gaze, hoping she picked up on his sarcasm, even if Rich didn’t. “Sometimes though, duty calls.”

“We’ll stay.” Her arms wrapped around his waist in a message of support stronger than words.

The twitch in Rich’s mouth brought a chuckle to his throat, but he wouldn’t risk losing the stare down. Rich muttered something about coffee and slinked off. He guided her to one of the couches.

“I appreciate your support, and you were wonderful helping Nancy, but you don’t need to stay. Hospital’s aren’t fun.” A little voice inside his head told him to tell her why he disliked hospitals.
Not now
. He didn’t want to have the conversation where Rich might overhear and add his commentary or where Nancy might interrupt with good or bad news about Coach’s situation.

“I will need to get back home sometime, but no one has called yet saying Chloe needs me.” She wrapped her hand around his and moved both to his bouncing leg with enough pressure to remind himself to stop. “I’m here for you.”

A world of hope shone in her eyes. Her presence gave him all he needed. As the clock ticked past nine, she started to yawn. “Sorry. Baker’s hours.”

He lifted his head from her shoulder and rummaged in his pockets for his keys. “Go home, gorgeous.” The harsh hospital lighting and trying circumstances hadn’t diminished her beauty. “Take my Jeep. I’ll pick it up tomorrow as soon as I have a chance.”

“But what about Coach Meyer?”

“I’ll keep you updated. You’ve been amazing. Not every woman would sit in a waiting room with a guy for hours while he waited for word on his boss’s health. I’m a lucky man. Now, go home. You need your sleep, and tomorrow morning I’ll need coffee and something to eat, so the Sweet Spot better be open.” He pushed the keys into her hand and walked her to the car. With a quick kiss on the forehead, he let her go. “Good night, for now.”

The plastic chairs of the waiting room offered no comfort.
Someday. Someday soon, the time will be right
.

By eight, the crowd at the Sweet Spot kept her racing back and forth between the coffeemaker, the kitchen, and the cash register. After so many weeks of slow business, the large crowd gathered in her store overwhelmed her. The collective din drowned out the ambient music for the first time since opening. Even her parents pitched in. Mom served brewed coffee, and Dad worked the cash register, promising to stay until he needed to leave to teach his ten o’clock class.

It was fair they helped. She held them responsible for part of this large crowd. The rest of the blame fell on her shoulders. Her mother shared the news about Coach Meyer with Dad. They called a few fellow basketball fans, who told few more people and so on. As a result, the Sweet Spot filled with people waiting for Kyle to get breakfast and give an update on Coach’s condition.

Gwen poured his mug of coffee as soon as she spied his approach to the door. He looked haggard yet sexy. Her mind flashed to lazy weekend mornings, of him with his rumpled hair and day-old stubble, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. Or less. Meeting his gaze, she offered what she hoped was an apologetic smile and a shoulder shrug as he wove through the crowd shouting out, “What’s the news?” “How’s the leg?” and “How’s Coach Meyer?”

He accepted his mug at the front counter. The hot liquid seemed to pour life back into his body, improving his pale pallor. She interpreted his glance at the display case as a blueberry-muffin order. He winked as she slid the plate across the counter.

“It’s on the house. Sorry about this crowd.” There were better ways to repay him, but they’d wait until later, without an audience.

After another sip of coffee, he turned to the crowd, legs akimbo, chest puffed in a way that commanded attention. “This is strictly off the record. There will be a press conference today at noon releasing more information and offering a chance for questions. I suspect you have all heard about Coach Meyer’s recent hospitalization. I spoke with him earlier today. He was as coherent and cranky as usual.”

A few people chuckled, including Dad. He waited for the tittering to die down. “He hopes to be released from the hospital shortly. Thank you,” he continued in a loud but firm voice.

Questions erupted from the clamoring crowd. “Will he be back for the game Wednesday?” “Can he still coach?” “What is wrong with him?” “Is he accepting visitors?”

He gave Gwen a quick look of exasperation. She needed to save him. He waved his hands over his head. “People, people, please. I know you are all concerned for Coach Meyer and his family as well as the future of the team, but all of those items will be addressed at today’s press conference. You may e-mail or call the athletic department with specific questions, but they will have nothing to say until after the press conference and neither do I. Thank you for your understanding and support.”