Sleigh Ride Together with You (7 page)

 

 

 

8

 

Wednesday
Afternoon

 

Standing in the hallway outside Nicole's half-opened office door, Alex raised his hand to knock then paused when he overheard her speaking on the phone.

“Mom, it's me. Nicole. No, Mom. Your daughter.”

Turning to go, Alex hesitated as he heard the distinct sounds of sniffling. Something about her tone of voice, that sniffle, tugged on him from the inside out. Her next words were muffled, but that was a good thing. He shouldn't be listening to her conversation, but he couldn't move.

“Grandma can't come and visit you tomorrow. Listen, I called because I'm coming to Starlight at the end of the week. I have a big news story and an interview for the station.” Silence ensued for an extended moment. “I work for the television station in Des Moines now, remember? I'm on the morning program.” More sniffles. “I'll see you this weekend, Mom. I love you.”

Should he knock or leave Nicole to her privacy? He needed to continue an earlier discussion with her, but the timing seemed awkward. If he approached her, she'd raise that stubborn, defiant chin, swallow her sadness along with her tears and be the complete professional in spite of what must have been a devastating phone call. She hated any sign of weakness, as evidenced by the fact her ankle was now wrapped and hidden beneath pants. Her brave front endeared her to him, but he knew her well enough to know—after only one day—that she wouldn't welcome his thoughts, sympathetic or not.

Raising his fist to knock once more, Alex heard her speak. “Hi, Betty. It's Nicole Reardon. Hope you're doing well.” She paused a few seconds. “Glad to hear it. Could you please have the usual dozen roses delivered to my mom's room tomorrow? Let's make them pink this week, if you have enough in stock. If not, just pick the best ones you have. And, if you would, write on the card, ‘I'll see you soon, Mom. Love you. Nicole.'” Another few seconds passed before she said, her voice subdued, “Sounds good. Thanks, as always. I appreciate you. Give my love to Dave and your mom.”

Alex started to quietly depart when the sounds of soft muted sobs came from behind the door. Hearing Nicole cry twisted his gut. Her hurt made him hurt, crazy as that seemed. With everything in him, he felt the strong urge to march inside her office, pull her into his arms, and hold her close. If he did, she might very well slap him. Or tell him off. Sometimes sadness could just as quickly shift to anger. On the other hand, maybe she'd welcome his compassion. Could he take the chance?

What was wrong with her mother, anyway? It must be advanced dementia—Alzheimer's—for her mother not to recognize her own daughter's voice. With one hand on his hip, Alex raked his free hand through his hair as he debated his next move.

Walk away now, Kingsfield. Let it go.

He'd comforted a few crying women, but doing so usually made him feel awkward and useless. Maybe because the motivation behind the woman's emotions wasn't always genuine and turned out to be a ploy for his sympathy. Not that he liked thinking that way, but a few of the women who'd shed tears for his benefit had been caught in an outright lie. To the point where he doubted the sincerity of the waterworks. Wow, he'd become jaded. Chalk it up to a few bad relationships in his past. Not this time. Nicole was in deep emotional pain. He wanted to help her, but what could he do?

Nicole flung open the door and barreled straight into him. Startled, they both jumped apart, but not before she cried out his name and put her hands on his chest for one brief shining moment. Her warmth burned through him like a hot branding iron. Whoa. By the way he physically reacted to her innocuous touch, he'd probably blow a gasket given the opportunity to ever kiss the woman.

Her cheeks colored a shade of pink that matched her pretty blouse. Enough to make it worth the embarrassment of being found lurking outside her office door.

“Spying on me again?” Breathing a little heavy, she pressed one hand over her heart.

Alex tried to slow his own breathing, equally heavy, but for an entirely different reason. A vision flitted through his mind of middle school at his first boy-girl dance. The first time he'd thought he'd fallen in love. He'd danced with a number of women since, but funny how Nicole prompted such an intense reaction in him. Brought back that feeling of heightened awareness of the opposite sex, the awareness of wanting to get to know this beautiful woman. But Nicole needed comfort and maybe a little empathy now, not some overgrown teenager whose hormones went a little haywire in her presence.

That little tug inside yanked on him again as he glimpsed the moisture pooled in the corners of her eyes. “I came to speak with you, but then I heard you on the phone, and I didn't want to interrupt.” Sounded lame, but all he had to offer was the simple truth.

Squaring her shoulders, Nicole moved back inside her office. “Come on in, then, but leave the door open. What is it you'd like to talk about?”

He raised both hands as if in surrender. “It's not that important. We can do this later.”

Seating herself behind her desk, she motioned for him to sit in the opposite chair. As he'd suspected, the consummate professional had returned. “It's important, or you wouldn't be here. You're only in Des Moines for a short time anyway. We can do this now.”

Alex wished she hadn't reminded him of the short duration of his stay. At that moment, he wanted to stay longer. A lot longer.

She centered her gaze on the wall behind him, avoiding his direct eye contact. “Why do men always get weird when they hear a crying female?”

“Excuse me?”

Nicole blew out a breath, and her lovely eyes finally settled on him. He didn't need to hear the words to sense her deep pain. “I might as well tell you since you'll probably eventually find out all my secrets, anyway. My mom's in a nursing home and has been since I was sixteen. She has advanced dementia and doesn't remember me, her only child. Yet she constantly asks for her mother, my Grandma Camille, even though she's been gone for almost seven years.” She drew in a quick breath. “The saving grace is that she doesn't recall the sadness and heartache my dad put her through when he left us. That happened when I was thirteen.”

Her statement made him want to find her dad and slug the guy. “I'm sorry, Nicole. Do you see him much?”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I only saw him on holidays. To be honest, I hated every minute. He died a couple of years ago, but we'd made our peace. God kept nudging me to do it, although everything in me fought it for a long time.” When Nicole lowered her gaze, more tears slipped from her eyes, dropping onto her long, dark lashes before sliding down already dampened cheeks.

How could he comfort her, short of hauling her into his arms? Helplessness wasn't something Alex was used to, and he didn't like it. “It must give you some comfort that you reconciled before he died. A lot of people never have that chance, or else they don't take the opportunity they're offered to make peace, leaving them with a host of regrets. I think you're—”

“Living in a fantasy world? Thinking my mom will someday return to me, her memory fully intact?” Propping her elbows on the desk, Nicole rested her head on her hands and released a light groan. A moment later, she pushed loose strands of dark hair from her face. “She's all the family I have left in this world. I'm not telling you my sad story to make you feel sorry for me. Let me be perfectly clear about that. I shouldn't even be saying these things to you in the first place, but—”

“Nicole,” he said, forcing a calm quiet into his tone, “you can't keep all that bottled up inside. For what's it's worth, I'm glad you told me. I think you're an absolutely remarkable woman. In more ways than I can count.”

She'd obviously been through so much and no one deserved to be alone, especially during the holidays. What a brave front she projected, but what pain it masked.

“Thank you.” She opened a drawer in the desk and rummaged around before pulling out a tissue. Dabbing it beneath her eyes, she inhaled a few quick breaths in rapid succession. She then surprised him by laughing, although it contained no real humor. “In spite of what you might think, those were not shuddering breaths. Call me weird, but I've discovered that odd breathing pattern actually helps to calm me down.”

“Whatever soothing method works can only be a good thing. I assume you adopt that particular pattern after every conversation with your mother?” Why that mattered, he didn't know. All Alex knew was that he wanted to keep her talking so she wouldn't dwell on the sadness. She didn't deserve the heartache she'd endured—not that anyone did.

Nicole glanced at her watch. “Yes. About this same time, like clockwork, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon.” Her smile was wan. “Alex, do you still have both your parents in your life? Are you that blessed?”

He nodded, feeling oddly selfish about that fact. “Yes.”

“Then do me a big favor.”

“Anything. What's that?”

Another tear slipped onto her cheek. “Next time you see them, hug them tight, kiss them, and tell them how much they mean to you. Love them, Alex. With everything in you.”

At her sentiment, tears pooled in his eyes. Strangely enough, he wasn't embarrassed.

“Here, take this, if you're going to cry about it.” She handed him a tissue across the desk.

He balled the tissue in his hand. “You don't have to be so tough all the time, Nicole. At the risk of ruining my macho image, I've cried a few times in my life.”

Nicole's lips thinned as she pressed them together, making his heart jump when he saw her lower lip tremble. “Thank you for being here, Alex, and for listening.” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “This conversation is off the record, right?”

“Only between us.” Scooting the chair closer to her desk, not knowing what else to do, Alex offered her his hand. After only a moment's hesitation, Nicole met him halfway. He enfolded his much larger hand over hers, so soft, warm, and small. When he lightly squeezed her hand, she squeezed back. Never in his life had anything felt more right.

“I'm honored to be your friend,” he said.

In that moment, something—he couldn't be sure what—passed between them.

“For what it's worth, at least from what I've seen so far”—she dabbed at her eyes again—“I think you're a pretty remarkable man, Alex. On and off the record.”

 

 

 

 

 

9

 

Wednesday Evening

 

“I'm calling it a day, Jeannie. I'll see you tomorrow.” Nicole tucked the Starlight file under her arm and turned to leave.

“Nicole?” That deep, resonant voice gave her chills, but it wasn't from the cold temperatures outside.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Jeannie's amused expression. She'd last seen Alex an hour ago when they'd ended the meeting with a small core group of
Wake Up, Des Moines!
viewers invited to the station for a round table question and answer discussion. A bi-annual event, the station sprung for small prizes and offered incentives along with finger foods. She'd always enjoyed interacting with the group—mostly female fans wanting to meet Colin, talk with Colin, and touch Colin. The producers always left those meetings pumped with new ideas and enlightening perspectives, and Colin always managed to keep his ego in check.

“Hi, Alex.”

Dressed in his expensive, well-tailored, dark business suit, the man was too attractive for his own good. Did he have a clue as to the drooling women left in his wake? That was just the female staff members. A couple of the guests had tried to waggle his phone number from her. As if she were some kind of matchmaking service.

“Jeannie mentioned that you're going to a downtown mission tonight.” He hesitated and shifted from one foot to the other.

Could it be possible he was nervous? She couldn't begin to fathom such a thing.

“Look, I know I said I wouldn't tag along after hours, but I'd really like to go. If it's all right with you.”

Nicole studied him. Why he wanted to come, she couldn't imagine. Maybe he traveled a lot and didn't often have the opportunity to help with ministry-related projects. They could always use extra helping hands at the mission—especially strong masculine ones—so what could be the harm?

“Only if you're willing to roll up your sleeves and serve food. And be a target for spit practice.”

His grin was charmingly boyish. “Not a problem. I love babies.”

“Those, too,” she said, returning his smile as she buttoned her jacket. “I'm talking about the seniors. Sometimes they need help feeding themselves. A tip? You might want to remove that expensive silk tie.”

A glint of surprise surfaced in Alex's expression for a fleeting moment before it disappeared. “I always liked the look of a paper napkin tie, anyway. Has a certain
je nais se quoi
, don't you think?” He started to remove his tie.

His gaze encompassed the length of her, no doubt noting she'd changed into jeans. At least he hadn't done it in a leering way, and she'd glimpsed appreciation in his eyes.

“Should I go to the hotel first and change? If you give me the address, I can meet you there.”

Nicole hoped she wouldn't regret what she was about to say. “What you're wearing is fine, and you're welcome to ride with me. Where's your coat?”

His grin grew wider, and a shock of dark hair fell across his forehead, making him look somewhat rakish. Now that was a Rose Valentine term if ever she'd heard one.

“Give me three minutes,” he said.

Before she could respond, Alex headed down the hallway with his long stride.

Jeannie's sigh was audible. “Alex has such a great—”