The Time of Her Life (17 page)

Unless Mrs. Harper was dramatically improved from his last
visit, she was looking at a stint on the first floor until she could get in and
out of the bathroom on her own, which was one of the criteria for assisted
living.

“She was getting around so well. That’s something that still
surprises me about senior living, even after all these years.”

“What?”

“How quickly things can change.”

There was such wistfulness on her pretty face that Jay wondered
who she’d lost. He didn’t ask.

Susanna exhaled softly. “One day a resident looks like she’s
winding down then the next she’s up scavenging bread and feeding the ducks.”

“Hope that’s the case with Mrs. Harper.” But Jay also knew what
Susanna wasn’t saying—that those changes worked in reverse. One day a resident
was feeding the ducks then the next she was gone. “Keep in mind that Mrs. Harper
is ninety-three. She’s been getting around better and longer than most.”

“True, true, but the ducks will miss her. Any chance of getting
her a window bed that looks out on the lake?”

“That’s a really good idea.”

She smiled, clearly pleased she’d come up with an idea he
approved. Hadn’t been happening all too much of late, if he was honest with
himself. Why? Because he was afraid she’d sacrifice all the important things
when he was no longer around, all the things that made The Arbors The Arbors.
And in the wake of her bright smile, Jay had to ask himself why he cared so
much. If he wanted out so badly, shouldn’t he be content to leave the future in
the care of someone who obviously cared?

* * *

T
HANKSGIVING
WAS
A
HEALING
step for Susanna and the
kids. A step that proved they were still a family no matter how much distance
separated them. Being together was the best part of the holiday and
where
didn’t seem to make any difference.

For Thanksgiving dinner they sat in a lovely restaurant next to
Brandon’s school that was a renovated post-World War I officers’ club. An
elegant place and a fine dining experience with a nineteenth-century bar and a
balcony. They’d decided to splurge on their first nontraditional Thanksgiving
meal.

Brandon barely glanced at the menu before setting it back on
the table.

“You’ve decided?” Susanna hadn’t yet selected a salad. A warm
spinach salad or a house salad with cranberry merlot vinaigrette?

“Shrimp and grits.”

Brooke eyed him over the menu. “Grits?”

“We live in the South.” He replied with such deadpan delivery
that Susanna chuckled.

Brandon had never been chatty like his sister. Reaching for his
glass, he winked at Susanna, looking so much like his father in that moment she
swallowed hard.

He could have been Skip at a similar age with the glossy black
hair and lanky grace of a young man who hadn’t yet grown into his body. The
young man she’d fallen in love with. Oh, so charming with a sudden grin that
reflected his love of mischief and making people laugh in as few words as
possible.

He hadn’t made a big deal of their surprise arrival last night,
but he was thrilled with their visit. Susanna knew because she knew her son,
understood that what he didn’t say was actually more important than what he did.
He hadn’t waited for an invitation before packing a bag at his dorm and deciding
to spend the nights in the hotel room Susanna had booked, a one-bedroom suite
with plenty of room.

He might not call her as often as Brooke, but these first two
semesters away from home had lent him a new appreciation for the women in his
life. This newfound maturity was evidenced by the way he’d opened doors and
ordered meals. The way he’d insisted on driving them around because he knew
Columbia.

“Well, I’m looking into pasta of the day,” Brooke informed
them. “Mom, you?”

“Sweet tea pork just because it sounds so Southern.” She closed
the menu and set it aside. “Definitely a departure from eating stuffing out of
Nana’s turkey.”

“Ugh, Mom! That’s so gross.” Brooke pulled a face.

“It’s the highlight of my Thanksgiving, Ms. Vegetarian.”

Always had been even as a little girl. Susanna’s mom always
made the turkey no matter who hosted Thanksgiving. She started thawing the
turkey three days in advance then got up at three in the morning to start
cooking her “bird” as she called it. Mom would hand Susanna a fork and she’d
take the first piping hot taste of the stuffing to determine whether or not the
bird was close to ready. A lifetime tradition.

“For the record.” Brooke tossed her hair off her shoulders and
set her menu down. “I’m not a vegetarian. Just selective.”

“You could select the duck,” Brandon suggested. “Looks like a
turkey. Kind of.”

“Um, you have fun with that.”

Brandon shook his head. “I’m good with the grits, thanks. Not a
fan of turkey.”

“Really, Brandon. How come I did not know that?” Susanna had
known Brooke didn’t care for turkey. Everyone had known because Brooke had
always made a performance out of piling her plate high with everything else that
graced the Thanksgiving table. But Brandon... “Why do I always remember you
eating turkey then coming back for seconds and thirds?”

“I was hungry.”

Brooke rolled her gaze, but Susanna gasped.

“Brandon, I can’t believe you never said anything. If I’d have
known I would have baked a ham or something.”

He shrugged, unfazed. Food was food, apparently. Then the
waiter returned, and Brandon ordered for everyone, the way his father had once
done when they’d dined out as a family. Brandon had only been thirteen when Skip
had died, but clearly some things left a lasting impression.

“Come on, we’ve got to say grace.” Brooke prompted when the
appetizers arrived. She extended her hands to join the family in a circle. “Mom,
you start.”

Susanna began with thanks for the opportunity to be with her
beautiful family. Brandon continued with gratitude to have his mom and sister
within driving distance and their surprise visit. Brooke drew a deep breath,
then said, “Lord, please bless our food, we ask with a shout. Save us all as we
pig out. Some stranger cooked our meal and probably, uh, sweat. This food needs
all the help it can get.”

There was a beat of silence before they all dissolved into
laughter, drawing notice from some other diners.

Skip had always been the one renowned for his theatrical
performances of grace that would leave the entire table howling.

And in this moment, he was with them. He’d always be with them.
Because they were his family. A unit. No matter how much distance separated
them. No matter where they made home base. No matter who married and changed
their name or added children, this family had always started with Dad, Mom,
Brooke and Brandon at its center. Their family might grow up and grow, might
move around near or far, might even physically have to say goodbye as they had
to Skip, but they’d never lose each other because they were a part of each
other, always.

There was a part of Susanna that settled down, finally at
peace, so reassured that whatever changes life might throw their way,
they
were intact. And would be. They’d roll with the
punches, make time for each other and savor each moment they spent together. For
the first time in so long, she felt excited for the future. And she could see
that there was a lifetime of possibilities ahead of them because the urgency and
anxiety wasn’t blinding her.

No, her gaze was filled with her beautiful children, so
grown-up now, her ears filled with their laughter as they chatted over the meal,
providing glimpses of life in Virginia, in Columbia, in Charlotte, and sharing
plans and dreams.

Brooke wanted to go overseas for her graduate studies. As an
art history major, she wouldn’t be through with school until there was a Ph.D.
behind her name and her minor in French translated into language fluency that
would allow her to hold her own in international business.

Brandon surprised them all by revealing that while he intended
to ride his scholarships as far as they’d take him, he wasn’t interested in
playing pro ball or sports management.

“Remember that ball camp I went to this summer?”

“The ball camp that dragged you away from home two days after
high school graduation? That the one?” Susanna asked.

Brandon arched an eyebrow, clearly not missing the sarcasm. “A
group of handicapped kids came to participate for a few weeks. It’s a summer
program the university conducts to provide opportunities for service hours that
the undergrads involved with sports have trouble squeezing in during the normal
semesters. You wouldn’t believe the things these kids can do. Play ball. Race.
Swim. You name it. They’ve got all kinds of equipment to help them work around
their disabilities. It’s amazing.”

Susanna and Brooke sat in silence for a moment, too surprised
to do more than blink at Brandon’s unusual candor.

“So you’re interested in working with handicapped kids?”
Susanna asked.

“No, Mom. Orthopedic surgery. I talked to Uncle Charles before
I went to see my advisor about classes for next semester. I don’t waste time
taking stuff I don’t have to. Turns out Uncle Charles knows the chief of
orthopedics at a hospital in Greensville. Dr. Spellman. He was great. Invited me
in to tour their program. Just went a few weeks ago.”

“Wow, honey. How wonderful” was all Susanna could think to say
on the fly. This had completely come out of left field. She wondered if Karan
knew, because she hadn’t mentioned one word.

Brooke recovered faster. “How are you going to keep up with the
coursework while you’re playing ball?”

Brandon looked affronted she’d question his ability and glared
back with a narrowed gaze.

“I think it’s great you’re so interested,” Susanna said,
stepping in before the interaction took a turn. Siblings. “I guess you’ve been
playing ball so long I assumed you’d go into sports management or something like
that.”

He shrugged. “Ready for a change, I guess.”

Reaching across the table, she patted his hand. “I’m excited
for you.”

Brandon grinned his father’s grin, and then they were back to
eating and chatting and being thankful for their enthusiasm about the future.
Susanna shared stories about The Arbors and got excited about their visit in a
few short weeks. They made plans for celebrating Christmas in their new home
base. And by the time they were sipping coffee and sharing a dessert, Susanna
couldn’t help but think how proud Skip would have been of his kids.

That thought lingered, and he felt close as they wrapped up
dinner and headed back to the car, which they’d parked on the street. It had
been light when they’d entered the restaurant but dark now, so they didn’t see a
man emerge from the shadows until he startled them with a gravelly voiced
greeting.

Brandon stepped around Susanna, keeping her and Brooke close as
he herded them along, saying, “Have a good Thanksgiving, man.”

Susanna saw him press something into the man’s hand. Cash, she
guessed.

“God bless you,” the man replied with a shake of his grizzled
head. No smile.

They continued on their way to the car without comment. Brandon
had assumed control of the situation quickly, and kindly.

Skip would have been so proud of his son.

Of all his family.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
USANNA
RETURNED
TO
The Arbors more content than she’d felt in a long time. There was only
one more situation that needed resolution...and Jay’s departure at the end of
the transition period would resolve that problem.

Her newfound peace manifested itself in a night of deep sleep,
a refreshing change from the anxiety-riddled hours she’d endured since her
arrival in Charlotte.

But as luck would have it, the ringing cell phone awoke her on
the first night of her return. Bleary-eyed from deep slumber, Susanna attempted
three times to answer the call before depressing the right button.

“Yes,” she ground out.

“Sorry to wake you, Susanna,” Walter said apologetically. “But
I’ve got a situation here.”

“What?” The word barely scratched past the gravel in her
throat.

“Pipe break.”

For a beat of silence, she stared into the darkness, wrapping
her brain around what Walter had said.

Pipe break?

Sleep fell away fast. “Please tell me the first floor.”

“Wish I could. Third.”

“On my way.”

Susanna reacted. She didn’t bother with a bra but pulled on
sweats and a pair of deck shoes before taking off at a run. She opted for a fast
drive in her car to the facility.

Robbie from security waited in the main lobby and opened the
main doors when he spotted her, saving her the effort.

“Walter put in a call to Mr. C. too,” he said. “But he’s not
here yet.”

“All right, so where are we?”

Robbie gave her the rundown as they made their way to the
employee stairs. “Ryan heard the leak on a walk-through. By then it was coming
through Mrs. Mason’s second-floor bathroom.”

“She’s been evacuated?”

“Put her in the respite room.”

Susanna nodded approvingly. “Have we figured out where the leak
is coming from and has anyone turned off the water?”

Walter emerged from the employee stairwell, wet from head to
toe, sodden shoes squeaking on the concrete with each careful step. Kimberly
followed him with a stack of dry towels.

“Glad you could join us, Susanna.” Walter shot her an ironic
smile. “The leak is in Mrs. Harper’s room.”

“Thank God for small favors.” Mrs. Harper was currently
ensconced in her temporary room on the first floor.

Walter nodded, which sent wet white hair flopping heavily onto
his forehead. Kimberly reached up with another towel to stem the flow into his
eyes.

“It’s a mess up there,” she added.

“Tried to shut off the main for that wing, but I couldn’t get
the valve to budge,” he explained. “Ryan got some tools, but we proceeded to
snap the valve right off in the valve seat.”

“Oh.” Susanna dragged her gaze over wet Walter. Not good. “Is
there a
main,
main for the facility?”

Robbie frowned, and Walter arched a bushy eyebrow. She wasn’t
sure if their silence meant the facility couldn’t be without water or if they’d
have to call the water department to access the main valve. Either way, she’d
clearly reached the limit of her plumbing experience. “Has anyone called
Chester?”

“He told me to get into the plumbing cabinet in Mrs. Harper’s
room. Said there’s some sort of shut-off valve in there. Ryan and I had a go. We
weren’t sure what we were supposed to be turning, and it was hard to see with
all the water. Afraid we’d break something else and make matters worse.”

“Okay, then. What are we doing to contain the water?”

“Ryan’s sopping it up in Mrs. Harper’s room, and Jane is in
Mrs. Mason’s room, keeping it from running down the wall—”

“Jay’s here.” Robbie headed back toward the door.

Jay strode through the doors wearing running pants and a scowl,
and the rest of them stood there united in their relief at the mere sight of
him.

Susanna included.

Jay would know what to do.

“Welcome home,” he said before Walter launched into an
explanation yet again and Jay sprang into action, reaching for the employee
stair door and maneuvering around Walter with an impatient “We just need the
angle stop. I got it.”

The relief was tangible. Everyone had such faith in Jay. That
was his gift and what made The Arbors so special.

Susanna chased after Jay. “Go dry off, Walter,” she said before
the door slammed shut behind her.

Taking the stairs two at a time, she finally caught up in the
hallway outside Mrs. Harper’s room.

He met her gaze, green eyes filled with resigned humor. “Have a
good holiday?”

She laughed. “Lovely, thanks. You, too, I hope.”

His eyes twinkled. “I did.”

There was a laundry cart in the hall with stacks of dry, neatly
folded towels, supplying Ryan, who was inside on his knees in the flood, damming
the flow of water.

“Hey, Mr. C., Ms. Adams.” He flashed a wet grin while layering
another sodden towel onto the makeshift dam in the bathroom doorway.

“Toolbox?” Jay asked.

“In there, on the vanity. Hope you brought swim goggles.”

Jay gave a snort of exasperation, or maybe laughter. Except
that he didn’t look all that amused. “Get out of here. Go dry off. Don’t drip on
the carpet.”

“Yeah, right.” Ryan pushed himself to his feet, scrubs soaked
and molding every inch of his young body in thin cotton. “Chester’s got a
wet-vac.”

“Thanks for your help, Ryan” was all Susanna said as she
averted her gaze politely.

But she was pleased that his dam-building effort had been
fairly successful because the carpet beneath her feet didn’t feel squishy until
she got close to the bathroom door.

“How may I help?” she asked while grabbing a few towels from
the cart.

Jay stepped over the dam, bracing himself with a hand on the
doorjamb. “Ugh, what a mess” was his only reply as he quickly surveyed the
damage. “We’ll have to gut this whole bathroom, and probably Mrs. Mason’s
downstairs too.”

“What a blessing that Mrs. Harper has already been relocated.
Who knew?” was all she could think to say.

“Yeah, well. You’ve got a point.”

Then Jay was on his knees, giving her a prime shot of his
backside as he leaned into the narrow space between the vanity and commode.
Water sprayed out, not violently but steadily, and he tried to avert his face,
which obstructed his ability to see inside. “I’ve just got to get down in
here....”

If only this had been the first floor. The bathrooms in the
nursing center were utilitarian, tiled with floor drains. But these were
apartments in every sense of the word except for the lack of kitchens and any
appliances that could be left plugged in, or on. The ALF floors, for all their
monitoring and security, accommodated residents with limited-assistance
needs.

Susanna continued to buttress the swollen dam. Her efforts were
decidedly unhelpful at best, compared to Jay who was stretched out in that
narrow space, getting rained on full in the face as he twisted around to work
inside the cabinet.

And what a sight he made from this angle, providing a full shot
of his backside. The running pants proved worse than Ryan’s scrubs because once
wet, they clung to Jay like a second skin. He moved one way and she could see
the muscles in his thigh flex. Another way and she could see the muscles in his
butt flex.

She made an honest effort to avert her gaze, but his sweatshirt
rode up, treating her to skin and lots of it.

Was seven years really that big a deal?

The question popped into her brain unbidden, causing that
embarrassed flush to start its aching crawl over her skin. But embarrassment
didn’t prove an effective deterrent, either. Every move he made brought her gaze
riveting right back to the sight he made, squirming around in that spray,
creating a wake every time he moved, long legs stretched, in all their shapely
glory.

“Damn it,” he finally exploded, creating a tidal wave as he
shoved himself up, thrusting wet hair back from his forehead and swiping at his
face. “This is ridiculous. There’s plenty of room to get in there, if I could
just see.”

She held out a dry towel. He snatched it and swiped his face
again.

“May I help?” Her voice, so small over the bubbling that echoed
in the confines of the bathroom, got his attention.

“You’re smaller than I am. Maybe you can avert the spray, so I
can see.”

“Of course. Just tell me what to do.”

“Get wet.”

“Please.” She grimaced, resisting the urge to flinch while
grabbing the doorjamb and stepping carefully into the flood.

“You get in first and hold this against the flow.” He handed
her back the towel she’d given him. “I just need two seconds to get a good grip
and turn the valve.”

Then Susanna was on her hands and knees in the water, which
saturated the fabric of her sweats in a slow rise up her thighs. She imagined
the sight she flashed Jay, then sputtered as the spray caught her full in the
face.

“Oh.” Wrangling the towel into the cabinet, she felt her way to
the break by touch rather than sight.

Using the towel’s bulk as lever, she blocked the stream enough
so she wouldn’t get sprayed in the face anymore.

“Good.” Jay maneuvered behind her, around her, his big body
close and closer, until she could feel every hard inch of him spooning against
her.

There was no gentlemanly
excuse me.
There was no acknowledgment whatsoever of this ridiculously intimate position.
There was nothing at all except the feel of their bodies pressed close for the
first time.

“Try to aim the water that way,” he growled against her ear, a
rough-silk sound that filtered through every inch of her. “I can’t get a
grip.”

Her unexpected reaction spurred her into motion, and she
bunched up the sodden towel and tried to direct the flow away.

His chest heaved against her back as he stretched to position
the wrench. His breathing came in fitful bursts. Her breaths were shallow, a
direct result of their proximity rather than the barely cooperating spray she
wrestled to contain.

Then two quick turns and the bubbling quieted, leaving them
with only the awareness of how their bodies were touching.

Susanna knelt rooted to the spot, so grateful Jay couldn’t see
her face. Not with awareness surely written all over her expression. How was it
even possible to hide her reaction with her cheeks blazing, every nerve
impossibly alive?

With any luck he’d assume embarrassment, which wasn’t a lie.
She
was
embarrassed, to the very core of her
soul.

For lusting after this man.

Regardless of every rational reason that she shouldn’t feel
this way.

Ever the gentleman, Jay slid away in a slow, controlled
movement that did nothing but heighten the flexing of his muscles, the strength
of his thighs supporting him as he reached for the vanity to brace himself as he
pulled away from her.

He was entirely
male,
and the bulge
of his crotch pressed into her backside for a split second until he managed to
maneuver upright.

Susanna’s eyes fluttered closed, doing nothing to block out the
swooping response low in her belly, the way slumbering places deep inside awoke
to the feel of his intimate parts.

Was six months over yet?

And shouldn’t this frigid bath have cooled her off a
little?

More splashing, then she felt his outstretched hand slip over
her shoulder.

“Careful,” he said in a throaty voice. “Let me help.”

He guided her with light fingertips along her waist, helping
her scoot back from the wall, presenting yet another show, until he could grab
her hand and steady her while she sat back in the water with another splash that
only emphasized the quiet.

Emphasized they were close, wet, alone.

He was still on his knees. She understood why. They’d have been
foolish to try and stand in the wading pool that had once Mrs. Harper’s neat
bathroom.

Lifting her gaze, Susanna intended to thank him, to right their
relationship again. Alternating companionable and combative professionalism was
far more comfortable than this crazy intimacy.

A simple
thanks
would restore
balance, distract her from the awareness making every nerve ending tingle, her
breasts heavy as her nipples grazed the wet sweatshirt.

Why hadn’t she thrown on a bra again?

Any answer was lost when she met Jay’s gaze, saw his face. The
awareness she saw in his expression mirrored hers, and it was torture.

For one wild moment, time stopped.

Not a breath passed between them.

Not a sound.

Only the awareness of the pent-up restraint they’d both held in
check and the certainty that restraint was about to end.

Suddenly his grip tightened, fingers pressing into her arms as
he dragged her full against him. Hard muscle met yielding skin in such an
intimate joining. She tipped her face to his, unable to resist, and he growled
low in his throat as his mouth slanted across hers with a need that proved
however hard-won her restraint, he had fought even harder.

* * *

S
USANNA
SIGHED
AS
HER
mouth yielded
beneath Jay’s, his lips moist and chilly, such a striking contrast from the heat
of their kiss. There was nothing tentative about the way his mouth moved over
hers, nothing uncertain about the way he demanded a response, determined to take
what he could. His kiss betrayed him as a man who wanted.

His strong arms slipped around her, and she melted against him,
unable to resist, breasts pressing against him and eradicating the last of the
boundaries.

One kiss invited her to touch, to yield to the attraction
between them. Her body molded against his as if she’d waited forever for the
simple privilege of touch.