Groom in Training (3 page)

“Not at all. Martin asked me to walk Suzette again, and I thought I could do both.” He shook his head. “When I saw you, I forgot.”

She suspected his friend hadn’t been thrilled. “You can’t do that to friends.”

He released a ragged sigh. “I know. I’ve been told that before.”

She’d wondered about him. Nick spent too much time doing his brother favors, and it seemed to affect his own life. Why did he do that? The question clogged her mind, but she kept it there and didn’t ask.

“You’re quiet.” He plopped his hand on her shoulder.

“Busy thinking.” He should do the same. “I have to do some housework today that I normally do Saturday.”

“What’s happening Saturday?” His voice faded, and he patted her shoulder. “Sorry. That’s a personal question I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s not personal.” His expression confused her—curious, yet wary. “Saturday I’m spending the afternoon having a dress fitting for a wedding.”

His eyes widened, and his hand slipped from her shoulder.

“Not my wedding, naturally. A friend’s. She’s getting married June 6. I’m a bridesmaid.”

He looked embarrassed and grinned. “Sounds like fun.”

Not really. She hated going dateless to a wedding. “I hope so.”

His hand rose to her shoulder again and gave it a squeeze. “Oh, come on. You’ll look beautiful in that gown, and you’ll have a good time.”

She gave a shrug and managed to grin. If she knew Nick better, he would make a good escort. Going alone was the pits. But she would survive without him. She’d been doing it for years.

They were silent, and Nick’s hand slipped from her shoulder. And why hadn’t he suggested taking her to the wedding?

The warmth faded, and Steph felt horribly alone.

N
ick sat beside his mother’s bed, studying the butter colored walls with the large clock and a card with the day and date. Everything in the facility was geared for helping the elderly men and women hang on to what mental capacity they still had.

His gaze slipped to a vase of dying flowers on his mother’s bed table. The signature on the card was Martin’s. Nick winced, then lowered his eyes and spotted the menu sheet below it. He grasped the paper, reading the choices she would have for her next meals—meals she couldn’t eat without help. He looked everywhere but at his mother. The sight broke his heart. If he had Martin’s disposition, he could deal with this horrendous situation. Whenever Nick came to visit her, a lump grew in his throat so huge he thought he would choke on it.

A guttural sound caught his attention, and he shifted toward his mother. Her glazed eyes stared at him.

“Do you want something?” Nick knew he’d never understand what she needed.

He listened to her sounds, forcing an attentive look on
his face rather than the frustration he felt. She tried so hard to form words.

His pulse skipped. “Water? Do you want water?”

The expression in her eyes validated his question. He grasped the water carafe, poured a fresh glass and bent the straw. She drew in droplets of water, some running down her chin, and when she finished, he took a tissue and wiped it away while searching for conversation.

“Martin’s new house is nice.”

An attentive look swept over her. “I helped him put away some dishes in the kitchen.” Should he or shouldn’t he? He decided to go with his instinct. “I found some of your crystal. A serving bowl and some dessert plates. A sugar bowl and creamer. They took me back to when we were kids. You always used those fancy dishes for holidays, remember?” The nostalgia twisted through him. No wonder he avoided these visits.

Her foot shifted, the only one that she could move, and she nodded.

Nick caught her flicker of gratitude. “We had a good childhood, Mom.” His mind flew back to his fights with Martin over toys and chicken breasts. Nick hated thighs, and he often confused one for a breast since they often looked alike to him. “Remember, Mom, when you gave up cooking whole chickens and only bought white meat?”

A grotesque sound burst from her throat until he realized she was trying to talk while laughing.

He’d made her laugh.

His stomach tightened. He had to visit more. As much as Martin irked him, his brother had been a faithful visitor, and he’d tried to motivate Nick to do the same. His glance shifted toward the vase of fading flowers. He could at least bring along a bouquet on his next visit.

Steph liked flowers. New blooms poked up from the ground in her garden. He’d noticed them though he had no idea what kind of flowers they were. Women seemed to like pretty things—flowers, sunsets, romantic movies and candlelight dinners. He’d tried to make Cara happy, but he’d failed. Time had been her complaint. He didn’t give her enough time. Maybe flowers and romantic movies weren’t that important. Maybe it was time? A faint shrug moved his shoulder. He had no idea what women wanted.

He wanted people to be real and truthful. Like dogs. Steph had said it the other day. Dogs wagged their tails, and he had no doubt they were content and happy. Humans weren’t that easy to read.

Nick looked at his mother again. How would Steph handle the situation with his mother? Would it even be an issue for her? His mother’s eyes flickered, and he realized he’d been silent too long.

He rested his hand on hers. “Martin’s neighbor is very nice.”

Her eyes brightened.

“She has a border collie, so Martin’s worried about Suzette and the collie getting together.”

Meaningless sounds came from his mother, and her bright eyes faded to frustration.

Nick patted her hand. “I know, Mom.” He detested his feeling of helplessness.

“Her dog’s named Fred. The two dogs rubbed noses and became fast friends.” A grin sprouted on his face. He and Steph had bonded, too, minus the nose rubbing.

His mother’s mouth twisted into a grimace though he suspected it was a smile. Then her head shifted a little, her gaze probing his. He guessed her question. “Yes, I like her.

We’ve only talked a couple of times, and if I—” If I what? If ever he needed to talk to his mom, today would be it.

Her brow knitted, and Nick relaxed. “You want to know how I really feel about her.”

Her face relaxed, giving him the answer. “I like her…a lot. I don’t know why. We’ve only met, but she gives me confidence.” That was it. Confidence. Though his mother lay so near, he allowed his stream of consciousness to be spoken aloud. “When Cara broke our engagement, I felt like a failure. I hadn’t understood what I’d done. I suppose I knew a little from her spiteful comments. I didn’t give her enough time.”

His mother’s eyes searched his.

“Now my time and energy is tied up with the business, so getting involved in a relationship is useless.” Or was it? “I need to understand myself before I involve anyone else in my life.” Would he ever understand himself? Doubt flooded his mind.

When he looked up, moisture had collected in the corner of his mother’s eye. Maybe he’d upset her with his rambling. Nick pulled another tissue from the box on her tray, wiping away the tears. This is what he couldn’t handle. He patted her arm and eyed his watch. “I’d better go and let you rest.”

He sensed a guilty expression spreading over his face. He couldn’t hide it. “If…when I come again, can I bring you anything?” He racked his mind for something to entertain her. She had always loved to read, but she needed two hands to hold a book. “Would you like a novel on tape? I could bring you something like that?”

She gave a little shrug, and he wasn’t sure if it was a yes or no, but what he did know is he had to come back again and soon. He rose and bent to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for listening. I love you, Mom.”

Sounds slipped from her lips, and he knew she’d said she loved him, too.

Nick hurried from the building, eager to breathe fresh air and wash away the scent of medicine and antiseptic. His chest weighed with emotions he didn’t want to feel. Life wasn’t fair. His mother had been a good woman, a faithful wife and a thoughtful mother. Why did God give her a devastating stroke?

He slid into his car, letting the thoughts settle into reason. God didn’t promise a life without pain or sorrow. A Scripture slipped into his mind, something about how in our weaknesses we become more powerful, because we turn to the Lord for strength. His mother’s power was her faith. One day she would be whole again in heaven.

His throat knotted. Nick grasped his own faith and sent up a prayer for the Lord to touch his weakness with greater strength. He needed to be a faithful son just as his mother had been faithful to her family—her boys—and to the Lord.

Nick flipped open his cell phone and hit his brother’s stored number. He’d nearly hung up before Martin finally answered.

“I’m leaving the nursing home now. Mom’s good. I talked about a few things—when we were kids. She even laughed. At least, I think that’s what it was.”

“I know it’s difficult, but you did the right thing. I’m glad you went.” Martin’s voice sounded different—less critical and more accepting.

“I am, too.” Martin’s reaction punctuated Nick’s decision to be a better son.

He said goodbye and flipped the lid on his cell phone. Why couldn’t he and Martin talk like that about everything? He needed to pray for Martin and for their relationship. One of these days, his brother would be the only family he had left.

A lump formed in his throat, and he tossed the cell on the passenger seat. Emotions. He hated them.

Fred’s bark zapped Steph to action. She dashed to the patio door, hoping she’d find Nick at the fence, but when her foot hit the flagstone, her stomach spiraled. Martin. Though he appeared to be an older version of Nick, his expression showed no relationship. Nick had warned her.

She drew up her shoulders and marched to the fence. “What’s the problem?”

“Keep your mongrel away from my dog.”

Steph winced and drew back from his index finger aiming at her nose. “The dog has every right to be in his own yard.”

“You think so?” His accusing finger swung toward the fence.

She eyed the pile of dirt where Fred had begun to dig. Her nerves tingled, and she feared she couldn’t get out the words. “I guarantee it won’t happen ag—”

“Why not? You think that mutt’s going to forget how to dig?”

This wasn’t the way she wanted to meet Martin. And it wasn’t like Fred. She shifted her gaze from Martin’s mottled face to Suzette bounding around the yard as if showing off for poor Fred. He was smitten.

She sent Martin a piercing look, hoping to convince him she wasn’t going to put up with his insults. “Calm down, please. Fred didn’t get into your yard. He only dug a little hole.”

“Because I stopped him. Next time, I might not be that—”

“Next time? I told you it won’t happen again.” Today she understood Nick’s concern.

As her words charged across the fence, she spotted Nick racing toward them with the expression of a fireman heading for a five alarm fire.

Martin raised his fist. “He better not or—”

“Whoa, bro.” Nick skidded to his side and grabbed Martin’s knotted fingers. “What’s going on?” He shifted his gaze from his brother to Steph and gave her one of those I-told-you-so looks.

Martin snatched away his hand.

“What happened?” Nick asked, shaking his head.

She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Fred dug a minute hole beside the fence and—”

“No need to explain.” Nick eyed Suzette, prancing at his side, and brushed his hand over her fur. “Suzette, are you getting in trouble?”

Martin’s look pierced Nick. “What do you mean Suzette? She didn’t dig the hole.”

“Martin, the dogs are getting along fine. You’re the one with the problem. Learn something from your dog.”

Martin’s nostrils flared. “This isn’t your business.” He spun on his heel and marched away from the fence with Suzette pattering alongside him.

Steph remained quiet. She had to live next door to the man.

Nick rested his elbow on the fence post. “Sorry about that. Like I told you, my brother has a short fuse sometimes. He needs to learn a little diplomacy.”

“That’s not all he needs to learn.” Steph arched a brow. “He called Fred a mongrel.” She gazed into the large yard, noticing Suzette had gone inside. Not by choice, she was sure.

He leaned over the fence and eyed the hole, grasped the fence post and flung himself over the top rail, then wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I can’t believe my brother made a fuss over this.”

Steph’s chest hummed.

His arm slipped away, and she stood dumbfounded, admiring his muscular arms while he eyed the hole. Her body ached to be back in his embrace. When her pulse stopped racing, she could finally concentrate. “This isn’t like Fred at all.”

“Remember, men do crazy things around women.” He grinned at her before turning his attention to the fence.

Didn’t he think jumping over a fence was crazy? Her mouth curved to a grin.

“Do you think we should do something to stop him from digging?” He looked at her flower beds, the fresh blooms peeking up from the ground. “Some kind of safeguard.”

Safeguard? She needed to safeguard herself from her emotions. “Thanks, but it’s not your problem.” She plucked lint from her sweater. “How can two men from the same family be so different? Was your brother adopted?”

Nick tossed his head back, chuckling. “I’ve wondered that myself.”

A giddy feeling came over her, and she sensed the expression had bonded to her face.

“Every time I meet you I like you more and more.” His eyes glinted as he gave her another one-armed squeeze.

“Thanks.” The touch swept to her toes. She lowered her gaze, needing to turn the subject away from her. “I don’t know what got into Fred.”

“Males can be impetuous when it comes to the fairer sex.” He lowered his arm as if he had just noticed the hug. “I’d better get inside and deal with the ‘wrath of Martin.’ I’ll do what I can to talk sense into him, and let me know if I can help.”

She doubted if that were possible now that she’d witnessed Martin in action.

He catapulted over the fence again, sent her a smile and headed toward the house.

Steph caught her breath. She loved his smile, but the whole situation gave her an unsettling feeling. She turned her attention back to the hole and kicked back the dirt. Frowning at Fred, she forced his nose to the fresh earth and gave him a stern look. “No. No digging.”

She waited a moment to let her reprimand sink in, then crouched beside him. “You have to be good. I can’t deal with a cranky neighbor.” Steph petted his black-and-white coat as she leaned toward his ear. “Just ignore Suzette. You’re too good for her anyway. She is a flirt.”

Fred tilted his head, his tongue dangling, and panted as if he’d run a race.

“Let’s go inside.” Steph rose and slapped her thigh. “Come.”

Realizing Suzette wasn’t the only one flirting lately, Steph shook her head and stepped toward the house with Fred following the way she’d trained him. Inside, she tossed him a treat, then grabbed a cookie for herself and sank into the nearest kitchen chair.

Today from watching their interaction, she couldn’t decide why these men lived together. They were so different. But it didn’t matter. She liked the idea that Nick was close by. He could be the buffer between her and his brother. Steph grinned thinking about the way he tried to handle the situation with humor. He’d wasted his effort. Steph leaned back, picturing Nick’s glinting eyes and playful smile. He said he liked her. She should have been honest and admitted she liked him, too. Too late now for should haves. She admired people who were straightforward. Being more direct with people was easier when she knew them well, like Molly, but Nick didn’t fit that category.

Probably for the best.

Now that Martin had become her neighbor, she was extra grateful for Time for Paws with its large indoor and outdoor areas for her dogs, which worked so much better than her house. The move gave her ample room to care for more pets on a daily basis. Along with space, the added income made a huge difference in keeping up her expenses.