They had to do something about the hours she was working. She couldn’t keep up the pace, not when she was this exhausted.
“Rae, I understand. Don’t worry about it. Go meet with the clients then call me when you get home.”
He was going to miss not having dinner with her, but it was probably best today that her work had intruded. He was stretched out in the recliner, looking at the bird that had come to check out the bird feeder, waiting for the medication to temper the ache in his body. It had been fourteen days since the relapse began, and even the careful exercises in the pool each day were agonizing. The doctors had come up with nothing that could even check the damage. His joints were inflamed, his muscles burning. He lost more and more mobility each day.
Dave knew, but with Rae it was a carefully laid out cover-up. She was worried enough about him that it was important to try to hide the worst from her.
He had watched her over the past two weeks, moving to
ward the point of being close to collapse herself. She was not getting the sleep she needed. She was worried about him, trying to make time in her schedule to come over and help him, doing it at the expense of her sleep.
He hated the situation. He hated it with a passion.
He wanted to be well. He wanted to be able to be the one to go to her place, fix dinner for her, take care of errands for her, help ease the pressure on her. Instead, this disease was ensuring he was adding to the stress she was feeling.
He spent the evening reading a book, often pausing to set the book aside, to lean his head back, think, pray.
If he didn’t begin to recover soon, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. But he couldn’t do this to Rae. He couldn’t let this disease end up affecting her health as well. He refused to let that happen.
It was a quarter to eleven at night when Rae rang Dave’s doorbell. He came down the steps from his studio office, flipped on the porch light. He saw her and flipped the locks open. He was still in sweats from an evening playing basketball at the gym.
She didn’t apologize for the hour. Their history went back many years. He knew, without being told. He took her jacket and draped it over the stair railing, then put his arm around her as he walked her to the kitchen.
“You look…tired, my friend.”
She took the soda he offered. “You understate things very well.” She took a long drink. “Can you get me tickets to San Diego for tomorrow morning, return flight Sunday night? Lunch and dinner reservations at a quiet, elegant place conducive to talking serious business?”
He looked at her and she let him see the truth, let her mask slip to show the reality going on.
“I’ll be glad to Rae. Find a comfortable spot on the couch, relax. I’ll make a few calls.”
He joined her in the living room twenty minutes later, handed her a piece of paper from his desk stationery.
Rae glanced at it wearily, knowing it would be complete, finding it was. A limo to pick her up from the office, first-class seats there and back, restaurant reservations, hotel accommodations, Dave had arranged it all, or rather one of his contacts had. “Thank you,” she said softly.
He handed her two business cards. “They are good. Use them if you need them.”
Two attorneys, both top names in the business. Men you didn’t just make appointments with; they picked their clients.
“The numbers are their direct lines. They will make themselves available.”
Rae nodded, knowing it would be true. “Thanks, friend.”
“You’re going to sell.”
She leaned her head back against the cushion, looked at the ceiling. “I’m going to…consider the possibilities. The Hamilton trusts are not definite, but the indications from dinner tonight are positive. I’ve got to have help, Dave. Good help. Since I can’t find the right partner with the business at twenty-six million, I’m going to do my best to make it a business of seventy million and see if I can get either Richardson in Texas or Walters in New York to move. They are the only two men whose track records and style fit what I really need. But if neither one of them works out—” she sighed as she looked at the page of notes “—then yes, I’m seriously considering selling the business.”
Dave rubbed her hand which was clenching and un
clenching around the throw pillow she had picked up. “Rae, Gary is a good guy. He’ll make you a fair offer, he’ll keep your employees, he’ll do good for your clients. There could be worse solutions.”
She heard the reluctance in his voice. “You don’t think I should sell.”
“I think you’re going to really miss the work.”
She sighed and looked at the page of notes again. “I know. I’ve told myself for months that I would do it only as my literal last resort. But I’m close to being there, friend.”
“You’re tired.”
She laughed. “I can barely remember the last day I felt rested. I don’t want this anymore, Dave. I don’t want the responsibility and the fatigue and the hours. I’ll find a partner, or I’ll face the reality and sell.”
James touched the tile wall of the pool, let himself finally stop. Five laps. It wasn’t great, it was a long, long way from fifty laps, but it meant he was finally back to a four on his scale of pain. He let the water float his body as he tried to catch his breath. A month. It felt like an eternity.
He had begun to privately wonder if the recovery was ever going to come. It was a battle to keep hope alive and at the same time try to accept and live with reality.
He would take Rae to dinner tonight to celebrate.
The idea brought a smile. She had been traveling on weekends this past month—San Diego, Texas, New York—business meetings with outcomes she remained noncommittal about. He had missed her, missed the Saturday afternoons spent together, the rare chance to see her without the burden of work pressing on her.
The past month had simply reinforced how important
she had become in his life. It was one of the reasons he had struggled so hard to keep hope alive. If he didn’t recover, they didn’t have a future together. That reality had made him willing to push through the pain and endure the toll the exercises took. There was finally a glimmer of hope, and it was time to celebrate.
Rae’s office was less than twenty minutes away. He felt like making the request in person.
Janet pointed him toward the trading room with a smile.
“Hey, lady,” he called softly, pausing at the door to watch Rae. Her attention was so focused on the information in front of her, his words startled her.
“James!”
He loved the sight of the smile that lit her face. She was glad to see him and it made him very glad he had come.
She crossed the room to join him at the door. “What are you doing here?”
He leaned forward and softly kissed her, watched the blush spread across her cheeks. “Want to go out to dinner?”
“I would love to.”
“When should I come back and pick you up?”
She looked back at the screen she had been studying, bit her bottom lip. “Give me twenty minutes and I can wrap this up for the night.”
“You’re sure? Don’t hurry on my account.”
She grinned. “Twenty minutes. Can we do Chinese?”
He laughed. “Yes.”
They ate at the restaurant across from the office complex, a leisurely dinner, the conversation moving from Dave and Lace, to church, to her work.
She was close to signing a major new client and as he lis
tened to her he heard the excitement, but inside he wondered if it was a good decision for her to make. A new client would increase her workload, increase the demands. He didn’t understand entirely why the idea appealed so much to her. But it did, and he was not one to limit anyone’s dreams—certainly not Rae’s. It mattered to her, so it mattered to him.
He had been about a week premature in his decision to celebrate. By the end of the dinner, he was reluctantly ready to admit it was time to go home and rest. The pain was back, strong and fierce, ugly.
“Come on in, Rae. The door is open.”
It was easier to call than to walk. His ankles were protesting even this journey to the kitchen. The hint of a recovery had been more of a wisp of hope than reality. Six weeks, and the pain in his joints was still severe.
The room vibrated to life with her entrance. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were pink. “James, I got the contract. I’m going to be managing the Hamilton estate, and all its various trust funds.”
“Rae, that’s great,” James said, pleased for her. He handed her one of the sodas he had retrieved. She accepted it from him with a thank-you and spontaneously reached forward to hug him.
She pulled back. “What kind of pizza…?”
He hadn’t been able to mask the pain in time.
She took a hesitant step back and her eyes suddenly widened.
“It hurts when I hug you,” she said, the appalling realization shaking her voice. “Oh, James. I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”
He saw the look of horror fill her face, and then she
turned abruptly and hurried from the room. He didn’t have the luxury of being able to hurry after her. By the time he reached the door she had fled through, her car was already pulling from the drive.
Rae opened the door for him, her eyes red, her face pale. She looked at him and he looked just as seriously back at her. “Can we talk?” he finally asked.
She swung open the door and walked toward the living room.
James set his wallet and car keys down on the end table. She had moved to stand by the window, her arms wrapped around her middle. He stopped by the end of the couch and looked at her. It was better if she spoke first. It was a long wait.
“I wish you would just say when something causes you pain.”
She was trying so hard not to cry….
With a deep sigh, James crossed over to her side. He had never intended this.
She didn’t want to look at him.
He tipped her chin up. “It hurts when you hug me, but I’m not going to let a little pain rob me of the pleasure. I love it when you hug me. I don’t want you stopping to think before you hug me. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
He wiped away her tears. “Rae, I like your hugs.”
It took several moments before she replied. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
She carefully wrapped her arms around him. “It feels so awful to realize I was hurting you.”
He gently brushed her hair back from her face, settled his arms firmly around her waist. “Rae, it would hurt me worse to have you stop.”
He held her for a long time, relieved to have her back.
He leaned down and gently kissed her. “Are we okay now?”
She sniffed a final time and nodded.
“Good. Then how about going out for that pizza?”
It made her laugh.
“Uncle James, I helped make the rolls. They are really good.” His niece met him at the door, sliding her hand in his, smiling. James propped the cane in the umbrella stand. He thought he could get by without it today.
“That’s great, Emily. You’re going to become a great cook like your grandmother.”
“She made clam chowder. Do you like it?”
“Love it.”
Emily’s grin widened. “So do I. We’ve got turkey and dressing, and my rolls, scalloped potatoes—my mom made those—that green stuff I like, homemade noodles, and for dessert there’s pumpkin pie, apple pie and chocolate pudding. I can’t wait for lunch.”
James laughed and tickled her tummy. “Where are you going to put all that food?” He wished he could pick her up. He knew better than to try.
“In my hollow leg,” Emily replied, giggling.
James loved Thanksgiving Day. It was something they didn’t celebrate in Africa.
“Where’s your dad?”
“Getting the card tables from the basement.”
The kitchen was busy, both his mom and sister fixing snack and relish trays. “Do you think we have enough to eat?” James asked, looking over the loaded counters.
His mom grinned and gently hugged him. “Even with nine people at the table, we’re going to be sending lots of
leftovers home with people. It’s one of the things that makes it a good day. Are Dave and Lace with you?”
“They’re on the way,” James assured her. “They were going to go spring Rae from her office.”
“She’s working? Today?”
James grimaced. That was what he thought as well. “A couple of hours. Need any help?”
“We’re close to being done.”
James nodded. “Patricia, how’s my future niece or nephew doing?” She was due in another eight weeks. His sister was loving being pregnant.
“Having a wonderful time kicking the inside of my ribs. He’s an active little guy.”
“Think it’s a boy?”
Patricia grinned. “I’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of being right.”
James affectionately squeezed her shoulder. “I pick New Years Day as the estimated time of arrival. I think you’re going to be early.”
Patricia laughed. “That would be fine with me.”
James accepted a drink and went to see if he could help Paul. He couldn’t carry much, but there should be something he could do. Find out what football games were on that afternoon if nothing else.
He was looking forward to seeing Rae. Dave and Lace, too.
He was having a moderately good day. A four on his scale of ten. He could walk without much pain today. It was probably a short reprieve, but he would take it while it lasted.
Dave, Lace and Rae arrived, amidst a lot of laughter. James met them at the door, grinned at Rae who was wearing a feather tucked in her hair.
“James, they are calling me a turkey.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
She swatted his arm. “I have to show some Thanksgiving Day spirit. They wouldn’t let me bring any food.”
“Thank you both,” James gratefully told Dave and Lace, then double-checked to make sure Rae knew he was teasing. He would hate to hurt her feelings. She wasn’t
that
bad of a cook.
She tucked her hand under his arm. “One of these days, you are all going to regret these comments.” She was grinning.
“Sure, sure. That’s what you always say,” Dave replied, grinning back.
“What did you bring?” James asked Lace, looking at the foil-covered tray she was carrying.