“And to my grandfather, the exaggerator. I’m no hero.”
“You came home alive and well. In my eyes, that makes you a hero.”
Ross was quiet. He had accomplished what George’s son could not. He had come home in one piece. “Whenever I got in trouble over there,” he said, “I thought of you. And when I did that, the only option was to make it home.”
“And for that, I am profoundly grateful. I hope you’re planning to stick around, because…well, you know.” He
took a sip of brandy, closing his eyes as he swallowed. “How are you?”
“I’m completely freaked,” Ross admitted.
“That was my initial reaction, as well. It’s one thing to grow old as I have, knowing I shan’t live forever. It’s another to discover my actual expiration date.”
Ross had always understood how hard it would be to lose his grandfather. But it had always seemed a distant eventuality, something that would happen someday in the nebulous, undefined future, taking him by surprise, like a sniper attack.
Instead the loss was predicted to happen this summer.
Ross hated that. With every fiber of his being, he hated the heartless prognosis.
Leaning forward, George nudged a pawn on the chessboard in his favorite opening move, the French defense.
“So, about this illness…” Ross kept his voice low, but even he could hear its intensity. Almost independently, he answered the opening move with one of his own. He and Granddad had always played chess, almost compulsively.
“We can go over all the technicalities in the morning. I promise not to die tonight.” George advanced another pawn and regarded him with shining eyes. “Dear God, how I’ve missed you. I worried about you every moment.”
“I’m sorry for that. The work was hazardous but I’m glad I served. I know you were opposed to my going, but it was just something I had to do.”
“And I couldn’t be prouder. And now you’re back, and it means the world to me.”
The center of the chessboard was fairly crowded now, with flanks of pawns. The queen’s black bishop was hemmed in and useless.
Ross didn’t give a shit about his future at the moment. “Look, Granddad, I don’t care how sick you are. I want to know what the hell is going on. Where’s everyone else? Uncle Louis and Gerard and Trevor? Why aren’t they here with you?”
“Well, as you know, the elder two are overseas, but they’ll be in New York soon. Trevor and Alice flew in from L.A. when I ended my treatment at the Mayo Clinic. They’re staying at the apartment,” he said, referring to his residence in Manhattan. “I invited them to Camp Kioga with me, but they declined. They all think I’m on a fool’s errand, and they’re hoping you’ll be the one to make me see reason and escort me back to the city.”
“Yeah? So how am I doing?”
“Not so well, because I intend to stay here.” His face turned mild, reflective. “Ross, I had to make a choice. I’ve lived a full life. I’ve had my share of blessings and losses. I came here to face my greatest regret, and that is the long estrangement with my brother, Charles. Full-on treatment would ‘give me’ maybe a few more months, but every day would be eaten up by appointments, painful and invasive procedures and tests. So I chose to come here, and invite my family up and have a day like I did today. I sat in a porch swing, did the
New York Times
crossword and prayed you’d be here soon.” He offered a smile that made Ross want to cry. “Now you’re here. I’m sure the others will join us soon.”
“But why here? And what’s this about a brother?”
“Now that I’m out of time there are some things I see clearly, and the need to reconnect with my brother is one of them. Things that happened in the past…I can’t let them matter now. All my priorities have shifted. My bank
balance? Doesn’t matter what it is, either. It doesn’t matter if I missed the latest episode of
Grey’s Anatomy
or if my damned socks match. What matters is making sure I come to terms with things in my past, and share my heart with my loved ones.”
Ross wasn’t quite sure what his grandfather needed to come to terms with. What could be powerful enough to divide brothers for a lifetime? Whatever it was, he hoped they could make this quick. Suffer through an awkward meeting with the brother, then head back to the city and find a doctor—a team of them—who could find a way to beat this disease.
He nodded his head toward the dining room. “And why
her?
”
George frowned at the game board. “She’s exactly what we need.”
Ross ignored the
we
. “But, Craigslist, Granddad? Seriously?”
“I was told one could find anything on the Internet. Apparently this is so. I simply listed the attributes I needed, and Godfrey put it all on the line.” George took one of Ross’s pawns with his bishop.
“On the line?”
“You know, the Internet.”
Ross’s mouth twitched. “Online, you mean.”
“Yes. Within hours, there were applicants queuing up to meet me. Godfrey prescreened them. It was disheartening, I tell you. Nothing like those match-up services they’re always advertising. I wish you could’ve seen some of the candidates.” He chuckled. “Did you know there’s a variety of tattoo known as the ‘tramp stamp’?”
“Granddad—”
“Don’t worry, Claire doesn’t have any tattoos. None that I know of. At any rate, I nearly gave up the search, and then I met Claire. Almost from the first moment, I knew she was the one. I had a feeling about her.”
“Yeah, about these attributes—did you check her references? Her qualifications?”
“Of course. I had to make certain she was exactly what I was looking for. I’m sure you’ll come to like her, too. At first glance, she seems a bit plain, but you’ll soon realize that’s not the case at all. She has a quiet sort of beauty. Doesn’t seem to want to play up her looks the way most women do.”
“To be honest, I don’t give a shit about her except where you’re concerned. Level with me, Granddad. How did you happen to decide on this girl?”
He took out a small notebook. “Well now, let’s see. I started with a list of qualifications—age twenty-five to thirty-five. Female, of course. Someone with a positive attitude and a sense of adventure. Heterosexual. Must love children of all ages. Must be open to relocation. No emotional baggage. Nursing skills a plus.”
“I don’t get what you were thinking. This doesn’t sound even remotely like a notice for a nursing position.”
“How so?”
“I think when you specify age, gender and marital status, it’s more like a personals ad.”
“I had certain requirements. And those were some of them. You know I have nothing against homosexuals. But for this position it had to be a woman.”
Ross grabbed the list. “Nursing skills a plus?” he read. “A plus? Like it’s optional or something?”
“It’s secondary to the other attributes,” Granddad said.
“Not to get too graphic on you, but as this business progresses, my needs are not going to be terribly complicated.”
“You can’t know that.”
“She’s available, you know,” George pointed out.
Ross stared at him, incredulous. “Did I hear you right?”
“Indeed you did.”
“What the hell do I have to do with any of this?”
“A great deal. Now, you’re not going to like hearing this, but it has to be said. I’m all you have, son, and I’m not enough family for you.” He raised his hand to stave off the objections he clearly anticipated. “I know you, Ross. Your heart is big, the way your father’s was. You were made for the kind of life filled with family. And it’s not a weakness. It’s a gift. And introducing you to Claire—that’s a gift. Perhaps my final one to you.”
“I don’t need—Granddad, she’s the last woman I’d want to date.”
“Why? She’s lovely. Intelligent, soft-spoken—”
“Whoa. I’m here for you, okay? Can you just please remember that?”
“As you wish. I do want you and Claire to get along, though. She’s not going anywhere, so you’d best plan to make an effort.”
Ross took a moment to absorb what Granddad was saying. He needed a moment. It wasn’t every day he encountered someone who saw him so clearly. George had always possessed that ability, Ross reminded himself. He could see into Ross’s heart. It was one of the reasons they’d always been so close and why he trusted his grandfather so much. But this…
“Let me get this straight. You hired Claire based on the fact that you thought I’d be attracted to her.”
“Yes,” George admitted.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“That’s quite possible. I might be, yes. This disease is notoriously unpredictable.” He studied the board. “I’m still giving you a schooling at chess, though.”
“You’d better send her packing, because it’s not going to work.”
“On the contrary. I saw the way you looked at her. You’re intrigued.”
“And this comes as a surprise? Christ, you’ve seen her. Of course I’m intrigued.”
“Excellent. And the good news is, she’s going to be entirely smitten with you.”
“Did she say that?”
“Of course she didn’t say that. You just met.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Good question. She hides it well. She’s a complicated creature. Your favorite kind. You are wearing that confounded expression again, Ross.”
He let out a sigh, steepled his fingers together. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“I agree. I hope we’ll have time for plenty of talk this summer.”
“I’ve got all the time in the world,” Ross told him. “It’s crazy, going from having every minute of the day spoken for by my Dustoff unit to having nothing to do.”
“Nothing but trying to figure out the whims of a dotty old man suffering from a diseased brain.”
“Not funny,” Ross pointed out.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” Granddad’s smile was thoughtful. “You look wonderful, Ross. Soldiering agreed with you, just as it did your father. You look so
much like him, I nearly forgot who I was talking to. Thank you again for coming.”
“I’m here for you,” said Ross. “I’m here for whatever you need from me.”
“Now, that is music to my ears. Precisely what I was hoping to hear.” He nudged a pawn into position, putting Ross’s queen in dire straits. “Your move,” he said.
Ross sacrificed his queen, as George must have known he would do. Then he hid behind the balloonlike brandy snifter to take a sip. He was lying through his teeth, of course. He was here to take his grandfather back to the city and persuade him to save his own life. He finished his brandy and set down the empty snifter.
George reached over to do the same. He missed the side table and the glass shattered in a shock of brilliant crystal shards.
“Occasional intermittent blindness,” Claire explained to Ross Bellamy in a low voice. They had brought George back to the lake house and helped him to bed. Now she stood with Ross on the porch. She was trying to keep her professional facade in place, but it was hard. The guy looked like he’d stepped out of her best fantasy—tall and fit, a chiseled face, soulful eyes.
Dimples
. “That’s likely why he dropped the glass. I’m afraid disorientation and lack of coordination are also common symptoms.”
At the moment, standing in the moonlight and gazing out at Willow Lake, it was Claire herself who felt disoriented, and Ross Bellamy was the cause. The last thing she’d expected was…him. Sure, George had sort of prepared her by explaining that Ross had been in the
service, that he was tall like George and shared the Bellamy blue eyes, but still, she hadn’t been prepared. The guy was like some kind of action hero come to life, even in civilian clothes. When he’d approached her and George on the dance floor, she’d been caught off guard—and being caught off guard was a dangerous thing.
It wasn’t just that she hadn’t expected him—which she hadn’t, not tonight. The thing that truly caught her off guard was her own reaction to him. The attraction had been as instantaneous and powerful as heat lightning. Sure, she’d been attracted to men before; just because she lived a borrowed life didn’t mean she was immune to sexual chemistry. This was even more intense. It didn’t matter that the man clearly resented and distrusted her. It didn’t even matter that he’d come with his girlfriend. From the moment he’d drilled her with that “who-the-hell-are-you” glare, she’d been spellbound.
She focused on the issue at hand. “There’s nothing to be done about it,” she told Ross, “except to keep an eye on him and help him with his mobility.”
In the glow of the porch light, she could see Ross’s jaw tighten with anxiety. She stifled an urge to take his hand; she sensed he’d find no comfort in her touch. She felt for him, though. The broken glass was probably Ross’s first concrete evidence that George’s illness was no fiction, but something real and inevitable, an enemy he couldn’t fight.
“Is that your medical opinion?” Ross asked. “Or personal?”
“Medical,” she said. “I’ve spent hours familiarizing myself with his case.”
“His case. Yeah, I guess he’s just a case to you.”
“He’s a man who needs me. He needs you, too, and
all those who love him. George deserves to find a sense of peace and closure. As horrible as this is, there will be unexpected gifts, too. Not everybody gets a time like this—to spend or waste however he likes. For some people, everything is snatched away in an instant.” She stopped, wondering if she’d revealed too much of herself in that statement.
Ross stared at her. “What he
needs
is a damn team of doctors. I put my faith in surgeons and scalpels. That’s the way lives are saved.”
“On the battlefield, that’s true,” she said.
“He told you about me?”
“He told me you were a medevac pilot in the army.” Claire could feel the tension rolling off Ross, and she sensed he was suppressing a lot. It was not uncommon, but it wasn’t good for her patient. He couldn’t be fully present for his grandfather if he was bottling up real feelings. There were things that needed to be let out. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you.”
“You don’t want to imagine it. Nobody does.”
“You saved lives,” she said. “And every life you saved was connected to countless others. Your grandfather is extremely proud of that, rightfully so. I hope knowing what a difference you’ve made brings you peace.”