Nothing But Trouble (32 page)

R.J. ought to know, he'd personally picked
out the exact shade of orange for Mr. Underwood's car. Along with
almost all the other details.

"Okay. Let me know when it's ready to test
drive," he responded while working on removing the steering wheel
from Charlie's latest project. The other two cars were at the tail
end of their rebuild and could be painted soon.

Sam grunted in agreement, then walked
away.

For the rest of the afternoon, R.J. worked
while trying not to think about the other woman in his life. The
other woman he felt oddly responsible for, even with her
addiction.

Upon seeing her on the bathroom floor, his
anger and resentment toward her had melted away. Although, he
suspected he'd never truly been angry with her, that it had only
been a mask for pity.

Now he pitied her more than ever. He may
never understand her reasoning for turning to drugs, but it was
pretty clear Danielle was a lonely woman. And perhaps that was why
she'd tried to latch onto him. Had she always had problems getting
a man in her life?

That didn't make any sense. Danielle was
beautiful and smart. He'd always enjoyed her company, when she
hadn't gone all wiggy on the drugs.

Despite her being in the hospital, and
knowing she was in good hands, he still worried about her. They
hadn't let him see her when she'd first been admitted, saying she'd
been too critical for anyone other than family. Her daughter
Lindsey was the only one they'd let through the doors. The poor kid
had been visibly shaken at the sight of her mother hooked up to
monitors.

Not being able to do more for Danielle had
made him feel like a helpless fool. So he'd done the next best
thing and had researched rehabilitation centers in the area. The
Central Wyoming Counseling Center was near Casper and seemed to be
a good fit for Danielle. She didn't know it yet, but R.J. had every
intention of driving her there himself and paying for it.

But he needed to see her. Despite her
behavior and poor choices, he cared about her and needed to see for
himself that she was okay. That the Danielle he knew was in there
somewhere.

Luckily, he'd gotten a call from Lindsey that
morning saying her mother had already been released from the
hospital. They'd pumped her stomach and kept her overnight for
observation, then sent her home.

All day, he'd debated whether or not it was
too soon to bombard her with the plans he'd made for her. Then
right around the time he'd started ripping apart the guts of
Charlie's Rolls Royce, he decided the hell with it. Spending a
night in the hospital wasn't going to heal Danielle. The sooner she
got into a program, the sooner she could start putting her life
back together. Maybe he'd even help her find another job.

At 6:30 R.J. shut the place down and headed
across town. For the second time that week, he pulled into
Danielle's driveway. Someone had watered her flowers and removed
the pile of newspapers from the driveway. The cleanup job made the
house seem less forlorn, but a shabby feel still poured out of the
peeling paint of the black shutters framing the windows.

Maybe he could also hire some gardeners to
come by and tend to the yard.

Lindsey answered the door after R.J.'s third
knock. The girl's eyes were puffy, her blue eyes shiny from
recently shed tears. Dammit, the kid shouldn't be crying over her
mother's condition. They should be going to spa treatments together
and shopping sprees. Mothers and daughters did those kinds of
things together, didn't they?

"Hi," Lindsey said as she rubbed her nose on
the sleeve of her shirt. "My mom's in bed." She stepped back to let
him enter.

"Is she asleep?" he asked. The interior of
the house was in slightly better shape than before. The garbage and
food had been cleared, the curtains opened and the floors vacuumed.
R.J. guessed Lindsey had done all that. And now the girl had been
tasked with taking care of her mother.

"No, she's awake. She's watching T.V."

R.J. started down the hallway, then turned
back to Danielle's daughter. "I thought you were with your
dad."

Lindsey's eyes flickered to her surroundings.
"I wanted to be here with my mom." She pinned R.J. with the saddest
look he'd ever seen from a ten year old. "She can't take care of
herself," she whispered.

And there went his heart. Cracking open over
softly spoken words from a kid. He seemed to be having that feeling
a lot lately.

His soft spot for vulnerable kids got him
again. He stalked back toward Lindsey and gathered her in his arms.
She came willingly, wrapping her skinny arms around his waist and
squeezing tight.

He ran his hand up and down her back, hoping
to offer whatever comfort he could give her. She pulled away from
him, but he gripped her shoulders to keep her in place. "Listen,
why don't I take care of all this, and you can go back to your
dad's house? You shouldn't have to be here cleaning."

"I don't mind." She tucked a long strand of
hair behind her ear and directed her gaze to the floor. "She needs
me and I like to take care of her."

R.J. suspected the other way around was true
as well. Mother and daughter had always been close. Danielle and
her husband and divorced several years ago, and Lindsey saw the man
one weekend a month. From what R.J. understood, Lindsey had a good
relationship with her father, but was much closer with her mom.

He squeezed her shoulders and dropped his
hands. "I understand. If you need anything from me, though, give me
a call."

"Okay," she offered him a weak smile that
didn't reach her eyes. Then she turned around, grabbed a rag and a
bottle of Pledge and swiped the surface of the coffee table.

Did Danielle know what a wonderful daughter
she had? Did she have any clue how close she came to killing
herself and ruining poor Lindsey's life?

The bedroom down the hall wasn't the gloomy
cave it had been before. Clearly Lindsey had taken more care with
that room than any other. As though she wanted her mother's
surroundings to be as pleasant and cheerful as possible. Perhaps
the girl thought that alone could cure her mother's weird
not-quite-mid-life-crisis.

The curtains were pulled back from the
windows so the sunlight could come in and hit the vase of daises on
the dresser. They looked fresh and were in a clear vase with a red
ribbon wrapped around them. Red was Danielle's favorite color.

The carpet in here had been vacuumed as well,
and the clothes and been tidied off the floor.

Danielle was propped against the brass
headboard with the comforter tucked tightly around her legs.
Several magazines were piled next to her with a tray of half-eaten
food.

R.J. perched on the edge of the bed. "Your
daughter's quite the housekeeper."

"She's the best, isn't she?" Danielle said in
a whisper.

Her murmured words turned into quiet tears,
and little by little, the woman in front of him crumbled. The
tears, he suspected, had been a long time coming and had probably
been a weakness Danielle hadn't allowed herself. As though they
were a sign of admission of defeat or that she needed help.

Tears were never a weakness. In fact, his
respect for her grew as he watched her bury her face in her hands
and sob out all her demons. It was the sign he'd been waiting for
that Danielle knew she had a problem and needed to change.

To offer his comfort, he placed a hand on her
shoulder and yanked a tissue from the nightstand. She accepted it
from him and dabbed the moisture from her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, R.J. So very sorry," she
pleaded.

The desperation in her voice was like an
iron-hot poker to his stomach. At one time, he'd cared very much
for Danielle, even though what had transpired between them had only
been sex. Sure, he'd never loved her, but she deserved better than
what she'd done to herself. He wasn't going to try and understand
it, nor was he going to ask for an explanation. The only thing she
could do now was move forward and try to piece her life back
together. And he intended to help her.

"Don't be sorry," he said in a low voice.

She worried her lower lip and played with the
tissue in her hands.

"How can I not be? After the way I treated
you when you'd only been trying to help me?" More tears leaked out,
which she soaked up with the ragged tissue. "Waking up in that
hospital bed and watching my daughter cry for me… hearing her ask
me if I was going to die."

She broke down again, sobbing into the ragged
tissue until all she could do was take deep breaths to gain her
composure.

What could he possibly say to her? I'm sorry?
It's going to be all right? Don't worry?

He couldn't promise her any of those things,
and he doubted she'd want to hear them anyway. She was in a serious
state of self-pity, which was typical of recovering drug
addicts.

He handed her another tissue, which she used
to wipe her nose. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"Stop saying sorry, Danielle. I just want you
to get better. So does Lindsey."

"I know. And I promised her she would never
have to see me like that again." She let out a heavy sigh. "She
shouldn't have to see me like that in the first place." Her dreary
blue gaze shifted to his. "I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't
found me. Thank you."

"That's what friends do for each other."

She gave a half laugh, which sounded more
like a snort. "Are we friends, R.J.? Even after the way I've
treated you?"

"Of course we are. I may have been mad at
you, but I still cared." He gently touched her arm. "Besides, I
knew it wasn't you. Those pills messed your mind up."

"Even though they're out of my system, I
still feel that craving for them." She shifted positions on the
bed, scooting herself up higher against the headboard. "I'm
restless and anxious and I feel like I'm running a fever."

"That's why you need professional help. This
isn't something you can kick overnight from having your stomach
pumped. You need to go into a program."

"A program?" she asked with a panicked look
on her make-up free face. She was still thin, her cheekbones hollow
and her eyes droopier than normal. "I don't know," she went on with
a shake of her head. "What if it doesn't work? And what would I do
with Lindsey?"

He expected doubt, but wasn't about to stand
for it. "The Central Wyoming Counseling Center has a really good
reputation. And they do both inpatient and outpatient."

"I couldn't possibly afford something like
that. Especially since I don't have a job."

"That's why I'm paying for it," he stated
simply, waiting for the objections to start flying.

"No," she replied in a firm voice. "I can't
allow you to do that. Why would you want to after how I've
acted?"

He leaned toward her and tucked a chunk of
tangled hair behind her ear. "Because you can't go through this
alone, and professional help is the only way you're going to get
back on your feet. If my paying for it is the only way to
accomplish that, then so be it. Besides, you owe it to Lindsey to
try."

Her tongue darted out and swiped across her
lower lip, which was always a sign of nerves. "I'm scared,
R.J."

"I know. But admitting you have a problem is
the first step. I'll be there to help you the rest of the way." He
squeezed her arm. "I promise."

"I don't deserve your charity," she said in a
low whisper.

"Don't do the self-pity thing. You're better
than that. And it's not charity." He offered a smile, one he hoped
would convey his sincerity. "I'm simply helping out a friend."

"I'll pay you back," she offered.

R.J. shook his head. "No―"

She leaned forward toward him. "Yes. I may be
a train wreck right now, but please allow me to have some dignity.
I'll pay you back no matter how much it costs."

If nothing else, he had to admire her
tenacity and will power to keep her head high, a trait that had run
strong in her for as long as he'd known her.

"All right. You can pay me in installments,"
he added with a grin. "By the way, there aren't any more pills
around here, are there?" When she tossed him a scathing look, he
held his hands up in defense. "I had to ask."

The small smile she showcased softened her
features, although she still looked exhausted and older than her
years. "I know. I made Lindsey throw what was left of them out." A
defeated sigh slumped her shoulders over. "I hate myself for
putting her in that position. She should never have had to do
that."

"You're her mother and she loves you no
matter what. And she's willing to do anything to get you well." He
tilted her chin up with his finger. "You've made some bad choices,
but what matters is if you've learned from them."

Her chin trembled with more tears. "Seeing my
baby girl cry while I was in that hospital bed was the wakeup call
I needed. But even so, I can still feel that God-awful craving. The
anxiety and restlessness are killing me." Sweat beaded on her upper
lip, which she swiped away with the back of her hand. "I'm all hot
and feverish, like I want to come out of my skin."

"You're going through withdrawal. That's why
you need professional help." He stood from the bed and checked his
watch. "I'm going to call the center as soon as I get home.
Hopefully we can get you down there soon."

She nodded, then stopped him when he turned
to leave. "Wait a minute. Um…" Her fingers ran along the edge of
the comforter, tracing the patterns and working the seams with a
nervous movement. "About your friend Rebecca…"

This was the one thing he'd hoped wouldn't
come up. Although Rebecca had been a major player in pinpointing
Danielle's habit, and Danielle had blamed her, she was still a
weird subject for the two of them. R.J. didn't want to talk about
her, most of all because his feelings for her were too new. Or
maybe they weren't. Maybe his realization of them were too fresh to
the point where he needed to digest them some more.