Waiting for You (RightMatch.com Trilogy) (7 page)

 “I’ll make sure she calls you.” Sandy checked the clock. “You have any spare time now?”

“I got nothing but.”

“I know a little guy who would love a visit from you.”

“Yancy? Is he here again?”

Her face shadowed. In Joe’s opinion, the staff members on this floor were saints for having the emotional stamina to deal with the suffering and maybe death of little kids. “I’m afraid so. The leukemia’s back. He had surgery this week on his leg.”

Oh, shit. Joe loved this kid. “I wish I’d known.” Joe had taken an interest in the boy two years ago at their September party. Since then, he kept in touch, took Yancy out periodically and tried to be a sort of occasional big brother. He hadn’t seen or talked to him in a month. “Sure, I’ll go down.”

“He’s in five.”

When Joe reached the room, he stood in the doorway, watching the boy for a few moments. Yancy was struggling with his crutches, trying to get from the john to his bed. He’d lost his hair again and was alarmingly thin. Yancy wanted badly to play baseball again on his middle-school team, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, if ever.

“Hey, slugger,” he called out when Yancy finally settled in bed.

Yancy looked up and a huge grin split his face. “Hey, Sarge. What are you doin’ here?”

“Paperwork duty for the party in a few weeks.” He rubbed his arm as he walked up to the bed. “Got hurt and I’m off the job for a while.”

The boy’s eyes widened. There were dark smudges beneath them. “How’d you get hurt?”

“Shot in the line of duty.”

“Geez!! Gimme details.”

After he responded with a watered-down version of the incident, Joe pointed to a video game on the night table. “What you got there?”

“A new baseball game for my Game Boy. You wanna play with me? I know how to set it up for two people.”

“I sure do, Yance, my man. I’m gonna bury you.”

“I been practicing.” The boy’s enthusiasm was good to see.

Joe spent an hour with Yancy and left feeling a whole host of emotions. Sadness for the kid’s childhood being marred by a life-threatening illness. Pleasure at his own ability to make Yancy’s day brighter. And another insight into Dana. She was resilient like Yancy. Hmm, he thought philosophically, everything seemed to come back to her. He wondered briefly if he chose to bow out, if that would go away.

o0o

Cole couldn’t stop thinking about his brother. Sitting in a rocker, holding Ellie close to his heart, he crooned nonsense words to her while she dozed off. Some books said it wasn’t good to rock a baby to sleep, she’d get too used to it, but Cole indulged himself because she was, quite frankly, the center of his life. And he liked the fact that she was, as he’d told Joe, more than he ever could imagine. Would this kind of bonding happen again for Joey? Could Dana even have any kids? Regardless, he hoped Joe would give himself a chance with her. Dana shouldn’t have lied to him, but reality was she had, and so Joe just had to go from here.

Just like you want to do, lover boy.
As he stood, he reminded himself he was thinking about playing the same unhealthy game that Spence had with Annie and Dana had with Joe. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself considering the possibility. At the crib, he bent over, brushed back Ellie’s wispy, brown hair and left the nursery filled with undiluted joy.

Out in the living area, he went online, on to RightMatch, with his administrator password. He’d just check out and see who else Dana had connected with. Hmm, she’d gotten a ton of winks. He glanced at her photo. She
was
a beauty. More clicks. Ah, she’d been corresponding with someone else, Craig Dawson. Cole filed that for future reference in case Joe needed to know it.

 Eventually, Cole clicked into another profile—as he did routinely after checking out his site. And there she was. Beautiful Elizabeth Montgomery. For a minute, he took joy in her photo. Auburn hair. Hazel eyes. A killer smile. Shit, she was emailing with two more guys. He didn’t like that one bit. Maybe he’d delve into the questionnaire that his psychologist had used to make up her profile. He’d avoided doing that before, but he’d been checking her out for weeks, and what harm could it do? Most of the information was on the public profile.

She was forty-four, had two kids, both grown, one married with a child Ellie’s age, one a pilot for a private company. She’d had them by the time she was twenty. Hmm, he’d missed the last tidbit. She’d been just out of her teens.

He knew she was a widow, but he flipped forward and found the
private
questions Sabrina Jenkins, his psychologist, asked that didn’t necessarily show on the public profile. Yep, for
What’s the worst thing that’s happened to you?
she’d answered,
Peter’s death. I’ll always love him.
So she was a grieving widow. After five years!

He’d already read what she wanted out of life. She’d answered,
A man who shares my interests, values, future plans. In the private section, she’d mentioned Peter’s age—
hell, he was fifteen years older than she was. And she added,
Max, five years older than me
for concerns about dating, which again weren’t published.

Well, she didn’t say she wouldn’t go
younger
. But eleven years? Who was he kidding? She’d never go for him. He had to stop this silly fixation on her.

o0o

Dana headed to her Wednesday morning yoga class, grateful for the opportunity to access the peace and serenity that her practice always brought her. Though she was still ecstatic about the award the studio had won and the media coverage her business had gotten this week, she’d been unable to banish her wish to share the joy with Joe. And that led her to thinking about him more.

Bright Sky Yoga would help blank her mind and give her some peace. They offered regular yoga instruction as well as classes for the disabled. People with spinal cord injuries, amputated legs and crush injuries were in this class of twelve. As she wheeled into the cavernous room with wood ceilings, walls and floor, she smiled. It had been a big step (pardon the pun) for her to seek out this activity because of how much she used to be able to do with her body, but even the limited range of ability brought her better health and contentment.

“Good morning, Dana,” the instructor, Eleanor, said. “Nice to see you.”

“Good to be here.” She rolled to the far side of the studio. Several people had arrived and the assistants were already helping them into their warm-up positions. Sometimes the group stayed in the chairs—wheel or otherwise—but Dana liked when Eleanor pushed them out of their comfort zone and got them onto mats. And though Dana hated needing assistance with anything, she smiled when Tom came over.

“So, what is it today, beautiful? Chair or mat first for warm-ups?”

“Mat.”

Encircling her shoulders with a strong arm, Tom lifted her from the side and eased her down onto the floor. She stretched out flat, and Tom slid the bolster under her knees. Putting on an eye mask she carried in her bag, she tried to get in the zone through savasana. She concentrated on her breathing, in and out, in and out, and managed to keep Joe Moretti
out
of her mind.

After ten minutes, Tom returned. “I can get to the sitting position myself,” she reminded him.

“I know. I just like to watch you.” He winked at her. Rolling to her side, she managed to raise up on her hands and sit. Pulling on her yoga pants, she tugged her legs into an altered lotus position. Tom said, “Good girl,” and left to help the others.

Again, Dana tried to blank her mind, but the damn man intruded again. There had been an email from him this week after the news had broken about the studio’s award.
Congratulations, Dana. You are one special woman.
She’d been stunningly disappointed that he hadn’t given her any inkling into his decision making. How did he feel about her, was his shoulder healing, was he thinking about her? She’d badly wanted to say something more in her short thank-you email back, but she’d refrained.

“Now,” Eleanor said from the front, “Lift your arms upright and parallel, then stretch your right side by pulling on your opposite hand.” Dana followed the instructions. She was able to achieve this pose on her own, though some people with spine injuries had to be helped. A couple of people were struggling to stay balanced, and another assistant gave her more props.

Dana could also twist her spine to each side, holding the pose extra-long, roll her shoulders, rotate her neck. When they got to the pelvic tilts, the instructor said, “For those of you who can, press down on your pelvic floor to wake up sleeping muscles there.”

And Dana’s mind spun out of control. Joey awakened her, too, in the same general area. She’d been having some erotic dreams lately, which hadn’t happened in so long, she couldn’t begrudge them. Though she took care of her sexual needs by herself, she missed a man’s body. Now, she wanted Joe’s next to her, touching her, inside her.

For the rest of the class Dana only half concentrated on the practice, but still she came out more relaxed. However, by the time she got to the studio, she was anxious to see if there was another email or call from JoeyD.

Huh, so much for peace and serenity.

o0o

By Wednesday, Joe was going stir crazy. And it showed. “What on earth is wrong with you?” his mother asked from the sink. She’d brought over a homemade coffee cake and was tidying up his kitchen. He sat at a table, munching on a piece that was a lot more edible than her cooking, which she couldn’t quite master.

“I’m at loose ends. I’m not healed enough to go back to work yet, but I can’t stand being inactive.” He got up from the table and crossed to the window to look out. “I need to do something.”

“Go for a walk. I’d go with you, but I have my bridge club in an hour.”

Walking wouldn’t do it. Unbeknownst to his hovering family, after the first week of his injury, he’d power walked every morning, with a sling specially designed for jogging. He’d also kept up with his weights on his uninjured arm and his legs.

“The ladies would kill me if you missed that.”

She watched him from the sink. He could feel her eyes on him, just like when he was a kid and was trying to conceal something from her. Crossing to him, she put her hand on his arm. “It’s something more, though, isn’t it?”

He looked up into her still-lovely face. And thought about how she rolled with the punches of life better than he did. She’d lost two husbands, one through divorce, one through death. And she’d dared to risk again with Cole’s dad. “You’re really something, you know that, Mom?”

“Why, thank you.” She gave him a quizzical look. “What brought that on?”

“I’ve just been thinking about your courage, even after you’ve had so much loss in your life.”

“All right.” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “Sit and tell me what’s really bothering you.”

Joe dropped down onto a seat and found himself pouring out the whole story. He watched her face etch out with sadness as he talked about Dana being confined to a chair. He watched her eyes tear as he told her about the success in dance she’d lost, then gotten back with her studio. And he watched her brow furrow when he told her of his dilemma.

“That’s quite a story.”

“Am I a jerk because I can’t decide whether to see her again?”

 “Not at all. It was hell watching your father decline. Hard to deal with the wheelchair limitations. But not impossible, honey. And I’d certainly rather have been with him while he was confined to that thing, than not have him in my life.” She squeezed his arm. “But I didn’t have a choice. You do.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “Don’t you?”

“I do. It hasn’t gotten that far with us yet. I don’t have the depth of feeling for her that you did for Dad.”

“Then consider hard whether you want to take this on.” She glanced at the clock. “I have to leave. Did you ever read Dad’s letters, like you said you were going to when you first got hurt?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I think you should. They always give you a good perspective on life.”

Standing, she kissed his cheek, gathered her things, and he walked her to the door. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

After she left, he hustled upstairs to change into his workout clothes and sneakers. He caught sight of the dresser where he kept the letters his dad wrote. Drawn to them, he walked over and removed them from a drawer. There were several, and every time he held them, his heart started to beat fast. Though the anger over his dad’s situation was muted by the passing years, the letters were still hard to read. And despite his negative protestations, he was worried having Dana in his life would resurrect buried pain.

It’s not the same thing.

Still, he set them on the bed, glancing occasionally at the box as he dressed. He’d run first, then maybe read them. He’d just gotten downstairs when the doorbell rang. On his porch was Evie Falk. When he met her at the school-shooting incident, he thought she was hot in her teacher garb, but hot was tame for how she was dressed today. She was totally buff and toned, as revealed by the light blue tank top and white shorts she wore. She held a covered dish. “Hi, there,” she said with a brilliant smile. “I brought you some food. It’s the least I can do.”

She dressed like that to do an errand?

“I’m going hiking and I won’t stay. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’ve got a bad case of cabin fever.” He widened the door opening and stepped aside. “Come on in.”

He led her to the kitchen in the back. Taking the pan from her, he sniffed cheese and Italian spices. “Hmm, smells good.”

“Lasagna. I just made it so you could have it for lunch.”

“Sit down.” They both took chairs at the table where he’d been sitting with his mother talking about his feelings for Dana. The notion made him feel vaguely guilty. “School’s out?”

“Yeah, just. I’m dying for a nice long hike.”

A warm breeze floated in through the open window. “This is a nice day for a hike. Where do you go?”

“Letchworth. It’s only a forty-five-minute drive. There are trails around here, but the trees are so lush down there.”