The Winding Road Home (4 page)

“I'm almost sure he did. He's a surgeon.”

“He's the one we liked so much?”

“Yeah. So how did you hook up with Tanner?”

Kate relayed the details, and then she asked about the girls. Beth described her baby's latest teething bout and her two-year-old's newest favorite phrase. When at last the computer was ready, they said their goodbyes.

Kate stared at the blank screen for an inordinate amount of time. Maybe Tanner's idea was worth a try.

She went to the old newspapers piled on the floor in a corner, moved a stack of them to the table, and began skimming. Two hours later she stretched.

“As Rusty would say, ‘Well, kid, it ain't DC.'” With hands on her hips and eyes closed, she twisted the kinks out of her neck and her attitude. “Thank You, Lord. It is a first step on the way there.” She opened her eyes, surveyed the untidy room, and inhaled the stale smoke. “Though not the one I would have chosen!”

Adele leaned over the wheelchair and gently squeezed the occupant's veined hand. “Dinner will be ready soon, Edith. Your hair looks especially nice today.”

A spark of recognition flashed in the woman's watery eyes. “My granddaughter came to see me. Do you want to hear my song?”

“Maybe later, hon.”

Ordinarily Adele would have lingered and listened once again to the 83-year-old's warbling rendition of “Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree,” but it was 3:55. She had five minutes to spare before her appointment, and she needed every second of those five minutes to recharge.

She hurried down the hall into her office. As director of Fox Meadow Care Center, the county nursing home, she rated a space to call her own. Though cramped and windowless, it beat huddling outside in a cold minivan that took a lot longer than five minutes to warm up.

She maintained an open-door policy and so left the door ajar six inches. It was an understood signal that while she was available, if at all possible she'd rather be unavailable for just a few moments.

Turning sideways in order to fit, she stepped around the desk and slid onto her chair. Two framed five-by-seven photos caught her eye.

Maybe she should have gone to the car.

She took a couple of deep breaths. It had been an emotionally crowded day with the elderly folks. They had lost Mr. Lerner at 6:08 this morning.
Why on Valentine's Day, Lord? Even if he has no family and is in a better place?
She had been called immediately and arrived by seven, shaving five minutes off the 20-minute drive. Maybe that's why she had the five minutes to spare now.

She propped her elbows on the desk and covered her face with her hands. Still, the photos loomed in her mind's eye. One was of Chelsea, 16 and a half. It was this year's school photo, her daughter's junior year, taken in the fall. She had painted orange highlights in her normally dark blonde hair. She said it was her celebration of autumn's falling leaves.

Adele could live with the hair colorings. It was the incessant, independent pulling away that gnawed at her.

The other photo was of Will…William Harrison Epstein III, wearing
casual
—a red sweater and khakis, sitting in front of her Christmas tree. Three hours from now he was taking her out for a special Valentine's dinner. She looked forward to sharing her day with him and crying on his shoulder about Mr. Lerner. Maybe even about Chelsea.
If only I can stay awake!

“Excuse me?”

Adele jerked her hands away from her face and opened her eyes to see a stranger peeking around her door.

“Sorry. I knocked, but you must not have heard. I was told you were expecting me.”

She stood, welcoming him with a smile. “Please, come in. I was just lost in thought. You must be Graham Logan.”

He entered and shook her hand. “And you're Ms. Chandler.”

“Adele. Nice to meet you. Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” He sat on the only chair, dwarfing the old ladder-back with its overly small cushion.

“I thought we could talk a bit, and then I'll give you the grand tour.” She blinked, trying to refocus her tired eyes. The guy had extraordinarily nice hair. He appeared older than she, though not by much, and yet his hair was a magnificent pewter gray color. Parted on the side. Curly in the back where it hung just below his ears.

“I don't want to take up too much of your time.”

“Oh, you won't. I'm here for you. Would you like coffee or…or something?” Her mind was drawing a blank. What else did they serve in the kitchen?

He smiled. “No thank you.”

“Chocolate?” She picked up a ceramic bowl of chocolate after-dinner mints and held it toward him.

He smiled again and his eyes twinkled. Piercing, steel blue eyes.

Adele reached for her coffee mug and knocked it over, spilling the contents. She grabbed a handful of tissues and began sopping it up. “Whoops.”

The man stood and moved papers out of the way. “Are you all right?”

“No, not really.” She held one of the framed photos toward him. “Teenager.”

He raised his brows.

She glanced at the picture. It was of Will. “Oh, not that one. Here, this one.”

“Ahh. I see.”

“Mm-hmm.” They both sat back down. “I think I have your file here somewhere.” She lifted her desk blotter and peered underneath it.

“Look, we can postpone—”

“And Mr. Lerner passed away early this morning.” She grabbed another tissue and dabbed her eyes. “He was such a sweetheart. I know I shouldn't get attached to the residents, but I do. I always do.”

“Was he ill?”

“No, he was ninety-eight. He wanted to break the record of one hundred and seven, but I guess his heart just wasn't up for it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“That's kind of you to say. But it does mean we have a free bed. For your…?”

“Friend. He's been a second father to me and has no family.”

“For your friend. Well.”
Get a grip!
She took a deep breath and clutched her hands tightly on her lap, out of the way. “Why don't you just tell me about him.”

He settled back in the chair and crossed his legs, propping ankle against knee. He wore brown corduroys, white socks, rugged brown shoes, and a bulky multi-colored sweater. No coat.

“All right,” he said. “He's seventy-six and has cancer. At the most, he has only a few months to live.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Thank you. We're getting…used to the idea. I'm beginning a year-long sabbatical from teaching in order to spend more time with him—”

“Sabbatical. Are you a professor?”

“Chicago area. At Northwestern. American history. Rand doesn't want to be in the city. He prefers to be out in the country, and he wants to give me the time and space to continue working. I'm researching for a book about Swedish settlers in Illinois. With this area's history, we thought it would be the ideal place.”

“It is. And you'll still be close enough to easily visit the city. Do you have family there?”

“No, I'm a widower, as is Rand. No children. Siblings scattered.”

Adele's heart went out to him, and she blinked back more tears. “Oh my. Do you have a place to live?”

“I just moved into an apartment in Valley Oaks. There wasn't anything in Twin Prairie.” The nursing facility was located halfway between the two small towns. “I hope we can get him settled here.”

“I'm sure we can, if you think he'll like it. He'll have all the medical attention he needs. It's closer than Rockville to Valley Oaks, and quieter.” She stood. “Let me show you around, and then we can talk about finances.”

“All right.”

She squeezed past him, and he followed her out the door. It was moments like these she wanted to shut out the world and fall to her knees, asking God to change things. What a year this man was facing! And to think of the losses he'd already experienced! She stopped and faced him. “Mr.— or is it Dr. Logan?”

He gave her a half smile. “Why don't you just call me Graham?”

“Graham.” Her voiced cracked. “I'm so sorry.”

He stared down at her for a moment, a somber expression on his face. “I am too.”

She was prettier than he imagined a Midwestern director of a nursing home in the middle of nowhere would be. And genuinely empathetic. And curiously childlike for a woman her age with such responsibility.

Graham followed Adele down a hall, trying to ignore the scent he wished was not about to become familiar. She greeted patients right and left by name, touching each one shuffling along or hunched over in a wheelchair. Jesus in a leper colony.

She glanced up at him. “I live in Valley Oaks too. I'd give you a tour there, but you won't really need one. Everything you want is within about a two-block radius. Unless you want a shopping center or a giant supermarket.”

Her clothing appeared as if she'd shut her eyes and reached into the closet. But she carried it off somehow. The red sweater dress hung to her ankles, which were covered with what looked like thick white gym socks. She wore brown suede clogs. A wide belt encircled her waist; above that was a wildly colorful vest and a long necklace of beads. Her chin-length hair was curly and blonde, the shade a mature darkening of a towhead. It bounced whenever she moved her head.

They strolled through more of the building. Valentine decorations hung everywhere. She stopped at an exit door. “The gardens are lovely. Not this time of year of course.” She smiled softly, her forehead pressed against the cold glass. “But he'll see the crocuses. They come up even if there's snow.”

It wasn't fair. Life…was…not…fair.

They arrived back at her tiny office and sat down again. She explained finances and paperwork to him. He reached under his sweater to his shirt pocket, removed a pair of half reading glasses, and slid them on.

“Now you look like a professor,” she said. “The parents of our Valley Oaks pharmacist teach at Northwestern. Do you know the Neumans? I can't remember their first names. Or what he teaches. She's a librarian. Chinese.”

“Uh, yeah, I think I know who she is. It's a big place. Shall I write you a check now? He won't be needing state aid.”

“That's not necessary. I'll have the accounting office prepare things. What's his name?”

“Rand. Rand Jennings.”

She wrote it down. “You're welcome to move him in tomorrow, but I understand that may not be possible. And that's not a problem.”

“He's anxious to get settled. We can be here a week from Friday. Will that afternoon work?”

“That'll work just fine.” Her ever-present dimples deepened. “I'll be here. You can take this packet with you. It explains what you'll want to bring.”

“Thank you.” He stood, accepted the thick envelope, and shook her hand. She had a strong hand, as if she did more than touch the sick. “See you next week.”

“Take care. Do you have a coat?”

“In the car. Goodbye.” He walked out the door and started down the hall.

“Graham.”

He turned to see her, hand on the doorjamb, arm stretched full length as she leaned out into the hallway.

“We'll take really good care of you and Mr. Jennings. You can trust me on that.”

He nodded and continued on his way.

Fox Meadow Care Center and Adele Chandler were so much more than he had bargained for.

Adele threw the red dress on the bed and reached into her closet for another. Ten minutes and counting. She heard Chelsea and Kate's voices in her daughter's room next to hers.

“Help, you two!” she called out.

They came in.

“Oh, Mom!”

Kate asked, “What's wrong?”

Chelsea plopped on the bed and planted her elbows into the ivory chenille spread. “She doesn't know what to wear.”

“Oh. Well, it's Valentine's Day. That red dress you had on seems a good choice for dinner.”

Adele exchanged a look with Chelsea, who explained, “Will is
finicky
.”

“Chels.”

“Do you have a better word for it?”

“He's…particular. He's the administrator at the Rockville Hospital. His job is sociable and it fits him. I mean, he looks good in suits. He prefers formal as opposed to my usual mishmash.”

“Mom, I don't know why you want to change for him.”

“Because I like him a lot.” She sat down beside her daughter. “What does it hurt if I dress now and then to please him?”

Kate pointed at the closet and asked, “Mind if I look?”

“Help yourself. And Will's kind and fun and handsome. Whoa! Speaking of handsome. This guy walked into my office today. He's moving an elderly man into the home, a close friend. I'm glad we have space for him. I guess he doesn't have long—”

“Mom, you're getting off track.”

“Oh. What was I— Oh, yeah. Handsome. I felt like an ogling teenager. I got all tongue-tied and spilled my coffee.”