Accidental Love (11 page)

"Damn, I should have gotten an intercom system," she muttered into the darkness. What if Rose needed help with the bedpan? What if she woke up and needed more Percocet? Was it safe to leave Tabitha with her? What if she walked across Rose's legs? What if she was in pain again and needed to be held? Those and a dozen more questions passed through her mind, all convincing her that upstairs was not the right place to be. With the office door open to let Tabitha in and out in case she needed the litter box, surely there was no way that she would miss hearing Rose. But what if she did? What if Rose needed her and she did not hear her call? Yes, that was why she had to be closer to her…just in case she needed anything. Grabbing her pillows and blanket, Ronnie left her bedroom and headed downstairs.

Setting the bedding on the leather couch, she quietly crossed the room and peeked in on the sleeping woman. After satisfying herself that Rose was fine, Ronnie returned to the couch and laid down, sleep taking hold within minutes.

********************

Ronnie was up and about by six o'clock. She returned her bedding to her room and changed into her spandex workout clothes before popping into the office to check on Rose. The young woman was still sleeping soundly so she felt safe in heading downstairs to get in her workout. However, what normally meant wall shaking decibels of 80's music was changed to absolute silence lest she miss hearing Rose call out for her. What was normally twenty repetitions with each machine turned into ten and the skiing machine was ignored altogether. She ran back upstairs and checked in on the sleeping woman one more time before going to take a much needed shower. It was Saturday. There would be no sign of Maria who had the weekends off. It was up to Ronnie to figure out what to make for herself and Rose for breakfast.

As the steaming water rinsed the shampoo from her hair and the sweat from her body, Ronnie's eyes closed and her mind drifted back to the fair-haired woman sleeping downstairs. There had been an almost guilty pleasure in holding her last night, knowing that she was the one responsible for the pain, yet also the one to provide comfort from that pain. She enjoyed holding Rose, burying her nose in the spun gold hair, wrapping her arms around the soft body, feeling the warm breath against her neck…

Ronnie's eyes flew open and she looked down to discover her soapy hand fondling her own left breast. She quickly rinsed off, mentally chastising herself for fantasizing when she had much more important things to do.

Rose awoke to the sound of Ronnie entering the room, a plate full of pancakes and bacon in each hand. "I'm not as a good a cook as Maria, but at least I didn't burn anything."

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful."

"Do you want coffee or tea?"

"Oh, coffee would be great," Rose said happily.

"There's a fresh pot made. Cream and sugar?"

"Just cream please."

"One coffee, cream, no sugar coming right up." She set her plate on the desk and Rose's plate on the tray before placing the tray on the young woman's lap. "We'll have breakfast and then I'll help you get cleaned up. The nurse won't start until Monday but I think I can help you."

"You know I really hate feeling helpless like this," Rose said. "I mean, I can't even lean forward without it hurting my legs. If I don't think and wiggle my toes that's even worse, not to mention the whole bedpan thing." Her cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment.

Ronnie did not know what to say to that comment, knowing that if the roles were reversed she probably would not be as good about the whole situation. "I'll be right back with the coffee and after breakfast I'll see if I can find that Trivial Pursuit game." She headed for the door only to be joined by Tabitha.

"Mrrow?"

"And I suppose you want your breakfast too?" She received her reply in the form of the feline rubbing against the leg of her sweatpants. "Come on, if you're eating that means you won't be bugging your mother for some of hers."

******************

Although Ronnie had helped Rose last night with the bedpan, the young woman was still highly self-conscious of having the rich and powerful woman helping her. Not a word was spoken as the pan was slipped under her, she did her duty, and Ronnie took it into the adjoining bathroom.
Well at least I don't have my period
, Rose thought to herself, dreading the fact that it was only a week or so away. She had no idea how she was going to handle that when it came up.

"All right, I suppose we should get you cleaned up. Do you want a Percocet now or after?" Ronnie asked when she returned from the bathroom with a basin full of warm soapy water and a cloth.

"After. They put me to sleep too easily. Do you think we could cut the pills in half? I mean, I know that Doctor Barnes wants me to take them for the pain but I hate feeling so dopey all of the time."

"I don't see any reason why not," Ronnie replied, setting the container on the desk. "Let's get you cleaned up. I'll be as gentle as I can," she promised.

Indeed the dark-haired woman was extremely gentle, as if afraid to cause the slightest amount of pain. "Okay, if I get your back can you get the rest of it?"

"Yeah." Rose leaned forward and pulled the Dartmouth nightshirt up and off her body, laying it in front of her breasts. Firm fingers under the soapy washcloth worked their way across her back, drawing an unexpected groan from her lips.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, sorry. I guess my back hurts from lying on it so long."

"I used to get the worst cricks in my back after studying all night during finals. My roommate was great at backrubs." Ronnie's mind briefly thought back to some of the other things Christine was good at. "Anyway," she said, pushing the image from her mind, "She showed me what to do. Can you lean forward a little bit more?" The young woman complied and Ronnie put the washcloth aside. She shifted slightly to get a better position and began kneading the tight muscles with her long fingers.

"Oh, that feels good," Rose murmured sleepily, leaning back into the gentle massage. It seemed that every ache, every knot in her back melted away under Ronnie's touch. The soapy water made the strong fingers slide even easier across her skin. "You're in the wrong line of work, Ronnie. You should have been a masseuse."

"Is that so?" she murmured, her attention focused on the soft skin beneath her hands.

"Absolutely," Rose groaned as firm pressure was placed on a particularly sore spot. "You're gonna put me back to sleep if you keep that up."

"Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we?" She picked up the washcloth, wrung it out, and cleaned off the rest of Rose's back. "Okay, I'll leave you to finish up while I look for Trivial Pursuit."

Once Ronnie was out of the room, Rose set the shirt on her lap and washed the rest of her upper body and personal areas. She had just finished and was pulling the shirt over her head when the blue eyed woman returned. "I found…oh, sorry." Ronnie shut the door quickly. "Let me know when you're ready," she called through the closed door, the sight of Rose's firm breasts teasing her mind. That was one thing she did miss since putting in her own private gym. When she had been going to the local health club, there were lots of good-looking women running around the locker room in various stages of undress. It was easy for her to covertly eye their bodies and enjoy the sights without being noticed. Ronnie let out a sigh of disappointment at what she could not have…could never have again. Her experience at Stanford had seen to that.

"Okay," Rose's voice called out. She entered to find the bedridden woman's upper body covered up by the Dartmouth nightshirt, her lower body hidden beneath the blankets. "You found it?"

"Yeah, sorry about barging in without knocking. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay. I'm sure you've seen half-naked women before."

"Well, I still should have knocked." Ronnie looked at the small tray. "Hmm…that's not going to be big enough to play on."

"You know, if you put the leg rests up on that wheelchair, I'm sure I could play at a table with you."

"You think you're ready for that?"

"Well, they put me in one to change the sheets on my bed at the hospital. I'm sure if we're careful we could do it."

"I don't know, Rose. I don't want to hurt you," Ronnie said hesitantly.

"I'm in pain most of the time anyway. I don't think it'll make much difference." She looked up at piercing blue eyes and smiled. "I really do want to play with you."

"Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure. Besides, that way you can give me a tour."

Ronnie hesitated for a moment, weighing the dangers of moving Rose and trusting that the young woman knew what her limits were. "All right, but if you feel tired or want to lie back down you tell me immediately, okay?"

"Okay."

*******************

It required bringing the chair up against the bed and pulling Rose into it but they were able to do it with a minimum amount of discomfort. Fortunately, the renovations Ronnie had done when she took over the house included nice wide doorways. With the exception of the sunken part of the living room, there was no place Rose would not be able to go on the first floor. "Are you ready for your tour?" Ronnie asked after double-checking to make certain the afghan tucked under the fragile legs would not interfere with the wheels.

"Absolutely," Rose replied, reaching for the wheels only to find that she was already being guided out of the room, Ronnie's hands on the handles. The office was off the living room and now upright, Rose saw even more of the magnificent area. Classic oil paintings hung on the walls. An antique coat rack stood near the door along with an umbrella stand that looked far too elegant to hold an umbrella. Every piece of furniture matched, from the trim on the leather sofa to the end tables to the cabinets that lined the wall. "It's beautiful," Rose whispered in awe.

"It's pompous," Ronnie replied. "I only leave it this way because I don't want to listen to what my family would say if I changed it. Sometimes we have to have functions here and I'm sure that the Monet goes over far better than a Witherspoon would." She noted the lack of response from the young woman. "Witherspoon is an abstract artist. I have some of her works hanging in the game room."

"You have a room just for games?"

"It's a throwback to my father's time. He used to entertain some of his more bawdy friends there. It's got a pool table, a bar, dartboard, that kind of stuff. It's over here. I'll show you."

Between the office and kitchen was a door, hidden under the stairs. "This is it. I haven't been in here in quite some time until today when I went looking for the Trivial Pursuit game. Maria doesn't even bother cleaning in here because it's never used, so don't mind any dust you might see." Ronnie stopped pushing the chair, stepped in front, and opened the door.

There was hardly a speck of dust in the room, despite the warnings. Rose heard a click behind her and the room lit up with a series of hanging lights, all proclaiming one brand or another of beer as being the best. On the far left wall stood a fully stocked bar. The center of the room sported a claw-footed pool table with crushed green felt and the right end of the room had a few small tables complete with ashtrays. "It's just like a bar."

"Pretty much. Dad used to retreat in here with his friends when he needed a break from the stuffy business world. I learned to play pool right on this table." She ran her fingers across the felt in memory. "During prohibition, my great-grandfather ran a makeshift speakeasy out of here, just for important clients, of course." She walked to the far wall and pointed at a small buzzer. "This was the warning bell. Grandpa used to use it to warn when my grandmother was coming and years later my father did the same thing."

"Wow," Rose said, truly amazed at the history of the room. She reached over and ran her fingertips along the smooth wooden side of the pool table. "I'm surprised you don't spend time in here. It seems like a wonderful room."

"It is, but I'm really too busy most of the time to have friends over." Ronnie gripped the handles again. "Ready to see the rest?"

"Sure."

They left the game room and ventured around some more, Ronnie pointing out the mud room that led to the back driveway, the foyer, and the second bathroom on the first floor. They passed into an elegant dining room with a table longer than any Rose had seen before. "You could seat twenty people here," the young woman said.

"Actually, it seats eighteen with the leaf in, but it does look rather large, doesn't it?"

"It's beautiful." The table matched the china closets custom built into each corner as well as the serving cart, a wooden table with wheels and fold down side flaps.

"I suppose it is. I never use it except for family get-togethers. I usually eat in the kitchen or in front of the computer. Come on, you haven't seen anything yet."

Their next stop was the kitchen. Ronnie wheeled Rose into the center of the room so she could see everything in one glance. "When I took the house over, this was nothing more than two counters and a few cabinets. Maria and I worked with one of the best kitchen designers in the area to make this."

"It's beautiful. It's just like those kitchens you see in magazines," Rose said. The colossal refrigerator sported light oak panels on the front, matching the rest of the kitchen's decor. A state of the art cook's island sat just off the middle of the room and was complete with a stovetop and sink as well as a garbage hole and built in cutting board. Above their heads was a wrought iron rack holding the brilliantly finished copper pots and pans. The opposite end of the room had large sliding glass doors that looked out at the driveway and the garages beyond. The entire kitchen was finished with oak, copper and steel with lots of light, giving an airy feeling to the area. "What's that door?"

"That leads to the laundry room. It's nothing exciting, I never go there."

"A room just for laundry? Can I see it? I mean, if it's not too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all, Rose," Ronnie said, smiling at the obvious approval in the young woman's gaze and voice. She guided them to the medium sized room. Calling it a laundry room was a bit of an understatement. Beyond the requisite washer and dryer, it also held the ironing board, several shelves to store off-season clothing, a cabinet with everything from fabric softener and detergent to spot removers and dryer sheets, and a counter to sort clothes on.