Heart on the Run (26 page)

“
That shiner is a nasty piece of work, but the swelling looks like it’s going down some already. And hey, nothing broken”—he grabbed his nose with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing it and moving it left and right—“not even your purple and red nose with the black highlights.”

Sprocket growled and kicked his shoes over to Mason. The guy glanced at them before looking back at Sprocket with his brow rising in question.

“
As I said, I can’t even bend over…” He left the rest of the sentence hang, hating that he actually had to ask for help putting on his sneakers.

“
You just want me on my knees in front of you.” Mason laughed. He jumped off the bed and indeed knelt at Sprocket’s feet. “A position I do love. Scoot back a step and lean against the wall, I don’t want to test your equilibrium while I’m down here and would be the cushion for your fall.”

He would’ve told Mason he sucked, but at the moment, that would just feed the fire.

“
I’ve got your release papers, Mr. Moretti. Are you ready to go home?” Patti walked in with a wheelchair. She was his nurse for the day, an older grandmotherly type with a gentle smile and great bedside manner.

“
Is that really necessary? I can walk. He didn’t hurt my legs.” God that sounded like a whine.

The older woman tsked at him. “Hospital policy. Anyway, we’re on the opposite side from the entrance, you would have a really long walk and…” She motioned to Mason on his knees sliding the socks on Sprocket’s feet.

Yeah, he had to admit the scene didn’t bode well for him walking across the hospital.

“
But, he has to do this because it hurts my midsection when I bunch it, the stitches… Standing straight and walking would hurt a lot less than sitting.” Sprocket figured it was worth a shot, at least. He just didn’t want to be wheeled around like a helpless person.

“
Well, then maybe I should get you another pain pill. Your chart said you declined the last one offered to you. It’s a good drive to Parkerburg, and I assume you’ll be sitting in the car as well.” She put her hands on her hips.

“
You know, for a sweet-looking woman with an angel’s voice you sure have a lot of fu—freaking backbone coming out.” Sprocket grumbled as he lifted his foot for Mason to slip his sneaker on.

She laughed as she wheeled the chair closer to him. Glancing around, her smile turned to a frown as she asked, “What do you plan to do with all these flowers?” She pointed to two large cardboard boxes in the corner of the room. “The orderly brought you the boxes so you can take them home, but they are still…everywhere.” She spread her hands and turned around, looking at the room.

It was true. To Sprocket’s amazement, the flowers and balloons were covering every flat surface in the room. All the businesses downtown on Maple Street had sent him an arrangement. Some even sent two. He got a huge arrangement from Prudence’s Perks and another smaller one from Prudence herself. She even sent a homemade laminated gift card granting him free lattes for life. He didn’t plan on taking her up on that offer, but her generosity was touching.

The outpouring of everyone’s well wishes really staggered Sprocket. Today was Sunday, late afternoon, so he’d only been in the hospital two days, yet they all jumped on the bandwagon and got the flowers ordered and delivered yesterday and today.

Petal Pushers—another business on Maple Street, and the sole deliverer of all the arrangements to him—must’ve been extremely busy. Plus they were the senders of the biggest display of all. Mason joked that Sprocket’s attack probably paid for their Christmas completely. Sprocket had attempted to chuckle, but quickly decided against it. All in all, though, he loved how everyone supported the other businesses on the street, even the ones with the crotchety owners.

Mason and he had spoken about all the flowers. They could bring them home, but it seemed such a waste to keep them to themselves.

“
Pattie?”

“
Hmm?” She sniffed a particularly fragrant array of white lilies and red carnations.

“
We were wondering if you could, well, we really don’t have a need for so many flowers at home…do you think the pediatrics wing or maybe another part of the hospital would like to have them?”

She straightened and looked at him, a huge smile across her face. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy. That’s a great idea…if you’re sure.”

“
Oh yeah, considering I’d be the one lugging them to and from the car.” Mason stood, finished with the shoes.

They all laughed—well, Sprocket tried to laugh—until something caught his eye. He shuffled over to a decorative paper box next to the potted mini-poinsettia from Ada at Ethel’s Attic. He hadn’t noticed the box before, but now that he did, it looked so out of place next to all the colorful bouquets. Opening it, he saw tiny pecan pies and round chocolate candies, a lot of them, more than he could eat by himself.

His head jerked up, and he zeroed in on Mason, ignoring the pain the movement caused him. One knowing nod from his best friend confirmed his suspicions. Chaz had been there. Sprocket didn’t know when, he’d slept a lot of the time he was in the hospital, but Chaz had found the time to not only bake a gazillion little mouth-watering treats, but deliver them to the neighboring town hospital as well.

Abruptly his legs felt weak, and he shot his hand out to grab something stable and wrapped it around Mason’s arm that suddenly appeared.

“
You see, you do need the chair.” Pattie wheeled it behind him and guided him down with a hand on his shoulder. “It happens every time. They think that once they’re discharged, they’ll all of a sudden have their normal amount of energy back.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re still recuperating. That man did an awful job on you. You’ll be feeling it for weeks probably. It will fade, you’ll do your regular activities soon enough, but you’ll see…you’ll tire quicker than normal.”

Sprocket nodded, only half listening. He was tired, and he wanted to go home and curl up into a ball and sleep for a week. Unfortunately, thanks to the stitches, curling up in the fetal position was out of the question. But the rest was doable, and he planned on doing it.

It was too much. This past month was just too much for him right now. Later…tomorrow or the next day he’d deal with it…but right now it was too much.

Chapter Twenty

At barely six in the evening, the sun had slipped completely below the horizon and thick snow clouds, promising another two inches overnight, hid the stars and moon. Chaz welcomed the cover of complete darkness like a thief or a spy would have. Sitting on the side of the road with his lights off, he kind of felt a little James Bond-ish.

Chaz turned the ignition and his car purred to life. He let it roll down Sprocket’s street, not bothering to turn on the headlights, relying on night vision and familiarity to find his way. There it was…the huge white porch, decorated with half a string of bright lights, shaped like turkeys…and half a string of bright, multicolored Christmas lights. Just like they’d been for the holiday party over a month ago.

Sprocket had always planned to take down the turkeys and finish framing the porch with Christmas lights after Thanksgiving. “Must not have had time to change them.”

His breath made little clouds in the air with each word. Chaz put the car in park and got out, trying to shut the door as quietly as possible. He crunched through snow and ice to the trunk of the car and opened it. The pile of wrapped boxes was bigger today than yesterday, and he debated whether five gifts was overkill.

The still warm casserole dish of beef stroganoff was on the bottom. Above that was the divided dish of Brussels sprouts with maple and bacon and glazed carrots, then a mini cheesecake to round out the meal. The top two boxes were molasses-glazed pecans and a wedge of gouda.

“
It’s just a meal.” He told the empty street, scooping up the tower of boxes wrapped in green and tied with gold ribbons. “Not a big deal.”

Chaz used his elbow to shut the car trunk, which proved to be a mistake as it made a loud noise. He froze, scanning the street rapidly. There were lights on all over the place, of course. It was only a little after six, after all. Other people were coming and going, getting home from work, or from shopping, or by the looks of one small child, from the ice skating rink.

He bit his lip and started up the shoveled walk to Sprocket’s front porch. There was a light on upstairs, and a dark shadow moving about in Sprocket’s bedroom. Downstairs, the porch light was on, but Chaz knew that was on a timer. It came on at dusk every day. Counting himself safe, he stepped onto the bottom stair. His gaze went instantly to the small wicker table where he’d been leaving his gifts. Yesterday’s four blue and silver packages were gone.

Do you think they liked the curry?
Sprocket had always liked Dermot’s curried sweet potato soup, and that had been the inspiration for Chaz’s dish yesterday.  

You want to know if they liked the curry?

Grow a set and knock on the door and ask them.

But he wasn’t going to do that. One day, he’d have the courage to knock. But that day wasn’t today. It was coming… He had known one day he’d have to talk to Sprocket, hell, he
wanted
to talk to Sprocket. A hundred times a day, he saw something or thought of something that he thought Sprocket needed to know about or would enjoy, and he turned to speak and there was no Sprocket. Or he picked up his phone and couldn’t gather the courage to dial.

Actions speak louder than words, sweetie.

Another of his mother’s bits of advice. He could save up the thousands of words he’d meant to say, the meaningless comments and casual conversations. He could even save the three most important words a man could say. Three words he’d never said to anyone but his mother. Because one day, he’d be able to say them to Sprocket, and Sprocket would believe them, because Chaz had proven with his actions that they were true.

You can’t run from love.

Can I run to it?

Shaking away thoughts too complicated for a Sunday night, he set his tower of gifts on the table. Just as he had for the last six nights, he reconsidered the item in his pocket.

It wasn’t a part of the meal.

It didn’t need to be there.

But Chaz did need to leave it.

Making up his mind, he pulled the tiny figurine out of his pocket and set it on top of the small box of pecans. The smiling little Christmas elf twinkled up at him, the gold thread hanger glittering on its green cap. “I’m off tomorrow,” Chaz told the elf. “I’m bringing something special over…and I’ll bring your friend, too.” The elves had been a set of two, and he couldn’t resist when he saw them in the window of Ada’s shop. They’d seem like such a perfect little pair, nestled back to back against a lamppost. The lamppost had come yesterday with the curry, and hopefully Mason or Sprocket had kept it.

So far he’d delivered the very beginnings of a holiday village. A tiny tree, a dog with a red bow in place of a collar, a park bench with a cardinal perched on its back, and a piece of white felt about two feet long sprinkled with glitter were just the beginnings. With every meal, came a piece of the village, and when the final piece was delivered, well…maybe then he’d be ready to talk to Sprocket.

Or maybe then Sprocket would be ready to talk to him.

Whatever.

Christmas Day.

“
We didn’t order takeout.”

Chaz started. He’d missed the door opening completely. Licking his lips, he met Sprocket’s brown-eyed gaze, got a little lost in that gold glitter before he took in the fading purple and yellow bruising, the tight pinch of full lips. Was he still in pain? “It’s…you look better.”

“
Do I?” Sprocket tried to sound badass and hard, but Chaz caught the wince as he leaned against the door jamb. “Hang on for a second; don’t run off.”

Was there a touch of sarcasm in that
run off
?

“
I’ll get your dishes from the kitchen.”