Authors: Kim Vogel Sawyer
Paul
Paul opened the screen door to the enclosed porch at the back of the Zimmerman farmhouse. The door scraped along the floor, following the path it had carved in the tongue-and-groove boards. He shook his head. Stubborn woman. Why wouldn’t Mrs. Zimmerman allow someone to repair the things that needed fixing? A readjustment of the hinges and the door wouldn’t drag along the floor anymore. This fine old house would fall to ruin in another few years at the rate it was going.
He stepped around the wringer washing machine, which had drifted to the center of the sagging porch, and lifted his hand to rap his knuckles on the kitchen door. Scuffling noises along with the high-pitched chatter of a worried voice escaped from the other side. Instead of knocking, he called, “Hello in the house! Is everything all right?”
The pound of approaching footsteps gave a reply, and then the door swung wide. Clete’s wife gestured him inside, gasping, “Oh, Paul, thank goodness you’re here. Mother Zimmerman passed out!”
Paul jogged to the opposite side of the kitchen, where two women knelt on either side of Mrs. Zimmerman’s inert frame. “Move aside. I’ll pick her up for you.”
“Don’t touch her.” The woman on the far side kept her head low, seemingly examining Mrs. Zimmerman’s colorless face. “Given her previous back
injury, it isn’t wise to move her. When she awakens, I’ll do an assessment, and then I’ll decide whether to lift her myself or summon EMTs.”
Her voice—low, sure, authoritative—held a smidgen of familiarity. Paul frowned, trying to place it. Then she raised her head, and although she didn’t even glance at him, her blue eyes raised a wave of remembrance so strong he nearly staggered.
She spoke to the young woman kneeling close to Paul’s feet. “Get a cool rag, Alexa. No, two. We’ll place them on her wrists.”
Paul shifted backward to give the woman—actually he realized she was a girl now that he got a good look at her smooth, youthful face—room to move. Tanya followed on the girl’s heels, and Paul turned his attention back to Suzy Zimmerman. So the rumors he’d heard buzzing through town were true. She had returned, and apparently she had been serving as a nurse over the past years. Although she seemed unaware of his presence, he couldn’t stop staring at her. Tanya whimpered and wrung her hands, nearly hysterical, yet Suzy maintained a calm demeanor. Admiration filled him. Whatever she’d been doing since she left Arborville, she’d changed. He saw no evidence of the bashful girl he remembered.
Alexa scurried over with dripping cloths in her hands. “Here, Mom.”
Mom?
Paul examined the pair who worked together to rouse Mrs. Zimmerman. Suzy’s coil of dark-blond braids with its few escaping wavy wisps contrasted sharply with Alexa’s smooth brown ponytail. Both were slender, although it appeared Alexa might be an inch or so taller than Suzy—her legs, hidden modestly beneath a straight skirt made of blue jeans material, seemed longer as she knelt next to Mrs. Zimmerman and held a cool cloth over the woman’s limp wrist. In their profiles, he saw little resemblance between them. Maybe he’d misunderstood.
Alexa jolted. “I think she’s rousing. Should I hold her down?”
Suzy responded promptly. “Yes. Gentle pressure on her shoulder, honey. Not too hard, but with enough force to keep her from trying to sit up. We don’t want to take any chances.”
“Okay, Mom.”
So he’d heard correctly. Alexa was Suzy’s daughter. He supposed he should be more concerned about Mrs. Zimmerman, but he couldn’t help observing Alexa instead. How old was she? Fifteen? Sixteen? It was hard to judge. He searched his memory for references to Suzy’s marriage and motherhood, but he found none.
Mrs. Zimmerman moaned softly, twisting her head from side to side. Her mesh cap had come loose and sat askew on her gray hair. She lifted her hand toward her head, but Tanya caught it, and drew it back down.
“Please lie still, Mother,” Tanya said.
Suzy leaned in, her lips close to Mrs. Zimmerman’s ear. “Mother, can you hear me?”
A soft
yes
eased from the woman’s lips. Tears trailed down Tanya’s cheeks, but both Suzy and her daughter remained dry eyed. However, concern etched a line across Suzy’s brow. She wasn’t as detached as she tried to appear.
One hand held her mother’s shoulder, and the other seemed to pinch her wrist. “Mother, I need you to listen carefully. Do not try to move. Not yet. I know you aren’t comfortable, but we need to give you some time to fully awaken and tell us if anything hurts. All right?”
Mrs. Zimmerman’s eyelids lifted to half-mast. “Wh-what happened?”
“You fainted.”
Mrs. Zimmerman frowned. “Nonsense.” Her voice, although still quavery, gained in volume. “I’d never be undignified enough to faint.”
To Paul’s surprise, Suzy chuckled. “Every woman is entitled to one dramatic swoon in her lifetime. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.” She patted her mother’s shoulder. “Now, since you seem to be awake enough to talk, let’s see if we can determine if your dramatic swoon caused damage to anything more than your pride.”
Suzy asked a series of questions, presenting both a professional and warm front. He watched her face as she appeared to mentally compile the information and form a conclusion. At last she released an airy sigh and offered Tanya a
smile. “I believe it’s safe to lift her now. Alexa will help me. Please set the brake on the wheelchair so it doesn’t slide out from underneath her.”
Tanya hurried to follow Suzy’s instructions, and once again Paul scooted out of the way. He’d come in expecting to be the rescuer. Instead, he became the observer, watching Suzy and her daughter expertly bring Mrs. Zimmerman from the floor to her chair in one smooth motion. Suzy settled her mother’s feet on the footrests, adjusted her skirt, and then placed her hands on her knees. “There you are. Better now?”
Mrs. Zimmerman’s lips pinched into a scowl. “I’ll be better when everyone stops fussing over me.”
“Of course you will.” A hint of bitterness seemed to creep into Suzy’s expression, but it disappeared when she turned to Tanya. “She needs to be hydrated. Is there a water glass in her bathroom?”
Tanya nodded.
“Good. I’ll make use of it.”
“I want coffee,” Mrs. Zimmerman said loudly.
Suzy acted as though she hadn’t heard. “Also, I think it’s best if she rests this morning. She likely pulled muscles in her fall, and some aches and pains will emerge. Until we’ve identified all of those spots, her bed is the best place to be. So …” She moved behind the wheelchair and released the brakes. “I’ll take her in and get her settled. Alexa, you can help me. Tanya, just a light breakfast for Mother, please—some toast or oatmeal? If you need me, you’ll know where to find me. Come along, Alexa.” And without so much as a glance in Paul’s direction, she wheeled her mother out of the room. Her daughter followed like an obedient puppy.
Paul stared after them, both amused and aggravated. Had he become invisible? He’d never been so thoroughly ignored. The teenage boy he used to be reared his head, and he fought the urge to teasingly taunt, “Hey, Suzy Zimmerman, why’re you being so stuck-up?”
Tanya darted across his pathway on her way to the cupboard, pulling his attention away from Suzy. “Oh, my heart and soul, what a fright Mother
Zimmerman just gave me! I wish Clete had been here when his mother fell out of the chair.”
Paul had known Tanya, the younger sister of one of his good friends, her entire life. Once she started talking, it was pointless to try to stop her. So he stood silently and let her yak.
She poured water into a small pan and set it on a burner. “I’m glad Suzanne knew what to do, but I think we made a mistake in bringing her here without talking to Mother Zimmerman first.” She removed a canister of rolled oats from a cupboard and popped the lid. “After all, the shock of seeing Suzanne caused her to lose her senses. She’s never done anything like that before today.”
Tanya dumped a cupful of oats into the water and followed it with several heaping spoons of brown sugar and a dash of cinnamon. She swirled a wooden spoon through the mixture, but then her hand froze midstir. “Or was it seeing Alexa that made her faint?”
He started to ask what Alexa had done to cause such a reaction, but Tanya set the spoon to work again and continued talking. “Either way, the shock was too much for her. We should have warned her about Suzanne’s return. But I suppose it’s too late to change that now. We’ll just have to make the best of it.”
Suddenly she huffed out a breath and slapped the spoon onto a little ceramic plate. She turned a penitent look in his direction. “Mercy sakes, Paul, here I am jabbering like a magpie and I didn’t even bother to ask what you wanted.”
I want to talk to Suzy
. But of course he couldn’t make such a bold declaration. The last thing he needed was to get the rumor mill grinding about him and the girl he’d hoped to marry when he was a boy of eighteen. “I came to see Clete so we can finalize plans on the renovations around here.”
Tanya turned back to the pan of oatmeal. “He took the kids to town and planned to stop by the hardware store before coming back out. He should be here soon, though, if you can wait. Would you like some coffee? There’s still plenty in the percolator.”
He’d already had two cups at the diner when he took his son for breakfast
before school, but Paul eased himself into one of the kitchen chairs. “That sounds good if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” She poured a mug and placed it in front of him, smiling. “Especially for the one who’s going to fix this house for Mother Zimmerman. Maybe when it’s easier for her to get around and to reach things, she’ll be less grumpy.” She removed the pan from the stove and carried it to the counter, where she emptied the contents into a bowl. “We’re all very patient with her, knowing how hard it is for someone who has been so independent to have to lean on others to meet her most basic needs. But I confess, there are days …” She stared into space for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.
Paul cleared his throat. “Should you take that oatmeal in before it gets cold?”
Tanya gave a little start, then grimaced. “Yes, I should. And if I know Mother Zimmerman, she’ll find some reason to keep me in there for a while. So please help yourself to another cup of coffee if you want it. It shouldn’t be too long before Clete returns.” She folded a spoon inside a napkin, then departed, the scent of cinnamon wafting in her wake.
Paul sipped, listening to the mumble of voices and waiting for Tanya to return. But, as she’d forewarned, she stayed in the bedroom. He was swallowing the last bit of his coffee when the kitchen door opened and Clete came in.
With a huge grin, he sauntered straight to Paul. “Hey. I saw your truck and thought I’d find you in here working. But instead you’re taking a break.”
Sometimes Paul wondered how Clete and Tanya had gotten together. Tanya was as high strung as Clete was laid back. Maybe it was true that opposites balanced each other. He and Karina had been so likeminded she could finish his sentences for him, but he and Suzy—
He shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about Suzy. He forced a laugh. “I was just waiting for the foreman to come tell me what to do.”
Clete plucked a thick mug from a pegged rack on the wall and poured himself a cup of coffee. “You’re the builder, not me. Where do you want to start?”
“I’d say outside, except the ground’s so mushy right now from our rains that I need to put off building the concrete ramps.” Paul placed his cup in the sink, then ran his hand along the clean countertop, imagining the work involved in carving the cabinets down a good six inches to accommodate Mrs. Zimmerman’s reach. “The biggest jobs will take place inside. And they’ll make the most mess and commotion. So I need to be sure your mother and …” How long would Suzy be here? She’d acted as though she was taking charge, but Tanya’s comments made him wonder if they’d ask her to leave. “And everyone else who comes and goes out here is ready for it.”
Clete drained his cup and set it on the table. “We’re ready for it. We’ve waited long enough. Even if it’s messy and noisy, it’s got to be done. So feel free to get started wherever you think is best. We trust you, Paul.”
Somehow it stung to be trusted. If Clete knew what Paul had done twenty years ago, would he still be his friend? He headed for the door. “All right then. Cabinetry in the kitchen first and then the bathroom cabinet and roll-in shower. I’ll take a break from interior work to build the ramps as soon as the ground is dry enough to pour concrete. All-in-all, plan on me being around for eight weeks—maybe closer to seven if I work on Saturdays.”
“Do you want to work on Saturdays?”
Paul shrugged. “I’m open to it, but I’d have to bring my son with me.” Without meaning to, he flicked a glance toward the room where Mrs. Zimmerman now held her daughter, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter captive. “Would Danny be … an intrusion?”
Clete laughed lightly. “Do you mean will Mother run him off?”
Paul’s face heated at Clete’s candor.
“Danny’s a good kid. He’ll be here with you, and Mother will stay far away from the mess. It’s fine if you want to bring him along.”
“I’m glad to hear that since summer vacation will likely start before I’m done out here. As big as he is, he isn’t keen on being stuck with a babysitter. You might be seeing quite a bit of Danny.”
“No problem.”
Paul started for the door to collect his toolbox, but then he paused, curiosity overcoming good sense. “Hey, Clete, I found out this morning that Suzy’s here.”
A crooked smile—a nervous smile?—quirked Clete’s lips. “Yeah. Shelley, Sandra, and me asked her to come help take care of Mother. She’s got that nursing training, you know.”
He knew. He’d seen it in action. He took hold of the doorknob, needing something to keep him steady. “Is she home for good, or …”
Clete rubbed his chin with his knuckles. “I’m not sure. I want her to stay. It’s too much for Tanya, Shelley, and Sandra since they’ve got kids to raise. But it’ll be up to her, I guess. She took a two-month leave of absence from work. So she’ll be here at least that long.”