Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5) (3 page)

“That nurse, who was here earlier, warned me we should expect him to slip in and out for a while. Don’t beat yourself up, he’d want to know. I know my brother well enough for that,” Jed offered gently.

“Still...” I protest, feeling guilty and second-guessing myself, tears welling in my eyes. I force them down and swallow hard. I’m not one to cry and most definitely not in public.
Right
. I give a little snort when I realize I’ve done it twice recently over Clint. So much for never spilling another tear over a man.

Despite my attempts at hiding them, Jed notices, stands up, and with a hand in the small of my back, starts ushers me out of the waiting room.

“We’re going to grab something to eat. You’re exhausted and I bet you haven’t sat down to a proper meal in weeks. Am I right?”

“I guess. But what about Clint? What if he wakes up again?”

“We won’t be further than five minutes away, and we’ll let the nurses know so they can call the minute that happens. Okay?”

When I still hesitate, he stops to face me with his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place.

“You need to eat, Beth. You’re no good to him if you start passing out.”

Ha. Emotional blackmail. Works every time. Without a word I slip out of his hands and start walking to the nurse’s station.

-

“S
o how’d you meet my brother?”

We were sitting in a booth at Digs, a restaurant across the street from the hospital, and I was working my way through a BLT sandwich. Jed had made short work of his burger and fries and was leaning back in his seat, sipping on his coffee.

“He was hired to work on the diner in Cedar Tree I work at.” I shrug my shoulders, making it sound as casual as I can, despite the fact that my life had not been quite the same since.

“So how come he hasn’t snagged you up, yet?”

The bite I just took from my sandwich threatens to go down the wrong tube, and I hack gracelessly to clear the crumbs from my airway. When I’d confessed to him early on that posing as Clint’s fiancée had been just a ruse, I’d also assured we were just friends. He’s never questioned further, until now, and it throws me off.

“What brought that on?” I answer his question with one of my own, once I’ve cleared my throat.

“It’s obvious you care for him a great deal, Beth. You don’t give up your work and your life, for weeks at a time, for ‘just a friend’.”

His smirk grates on me a little as I consider how to respond.

“Well, it’s not been for lack of trying on his part. I’m just not one for romantic entanglements,” I finally share, causing that damn smirk to get even more pronounced.

“Neither is he, so the fact he’s tried with you says something.”

“Oh come on; he’s a charmer, he can’t help himself,” I sputter.

Huh.

I’d always thought Clint was one of those guys who would always prefer to have a willing woman by his side, always on the prowl. Had even suspected him of being a player, which was why I’d gotten pissed at him when he tried to tell me that woman, he’d had at the diner with him a while ago, meant nothing to him. I’d confronted him for trying to flirt with me when I’d just watched him charm her over lunch. I’d called him a player and when he’d then tried to kiss me, it incensed me. Hearing that he apparently isn’t that kind of guy has me stumped. I’m usually a pretty good judge of character.

“Anyway,” Jed continues, ignoring my silence, “I’m gonna stay and make sure the work is taken care of, but I think I’ll steer clear of the hospital, from now on. Seems better for him.”

I watch his shoulders slump and can’t help but wonder what ever went wrong between these two brothers, but I wasn’t going ask again. Instead I asked him a different one.

“How is it that you seem to have no trouble reading people the way you do—me in particular—when your brother is like a big blundering fool, who can’t keep his feet out of his mouth?”

His chuckle soon turns serious when he fixes his eyes on me.

“Truth is, I’m the charmer in the family, all you get with Clint is straight up. Best remember that.”

Not sure what to make of that, I open my mouth to ask for clarification, but Jed’s already up and moving for the cash register to pay our bill. I guess he’s done talking.

“W
hy don’t you go home,” I tell Beth, who seems to be here every time I open my eyes.

I’ve been in here for over a month now and am going nuts with the inactivity. Granted, I’ve only been aware for a little over a week, but it’s been a fucking long and tedious week. The day after I woke up, they started me on physical therapy to try to get me up on my legs, which were annoyingly wobbly, but it didn’t take long for me to regain a bit of strength and my balance. Now, I am ready to go home.

I’m sick of lying in bed, weak and miserable, with too much time on my hands. Feelings of guilt and helplessness are constantly in the forefront of my mind, and having Beth around to witness me at my weakest, just doesn’t sit right with me.

As usual, she ignores me, only gracing me with a sharp glare from her eyes, inviting no further argument. God, that woman doesn’t listen.

Finding out she’d been at my bedside right from the beginning, even pretending to be engaged to me to get in, had initially blown life into that little grain of hope still lodged in my chest. But when I discovered she’d been the one to find Jed and get him down to the hospital, and had been spending a lot of time with him, the hope quickly died down. Feels like deja vu, except this time I have my eyes wide open. I won’t ever be caught off guard again, so that little bit of hope died a quick death. I made sure of it.

“I want to hear what the doctor has to say,” Beth says, like she has a right to be here.

I’m about to find out if I’m cleared to go home.

Home has been Cedar Tree for the past year, where I finally used my half of the sale of my marital home after the divorce. Until then I’d rented, not wanting to put down roots anywhere. But with the friends I’d found there, and the general sense of community in the small town, I couldn’t pass up on the fixer upper on the outskirts of town. A small three bedroom ranch-style house, all one level, in pretty poor repair but with a chunk of land that made it an attractive investment. Especially for someone with hands that could turn the place into a showpiece. At least that had been the plan until business started picking up at a steady pace, leaving my own house in a state of perpetual renovation. The living room and kitchen done, but bedrooms and bathroom still in their original, less than appealing state. I figure myself lucky now, that stairs are not going to be an issue going home. Although I’m regaining strength, I’m still moving around with the aid of a walker. Like a fucking geriatric, I shuffle behind the damn thing so as not to fall on my face. Balance is getting better, but each time I’ve tried to walk without it, I’ve ended up on the floor.

Just tried again to go for a piss, and Beth had walked in just in time to prevent me from going down. Receiving an earful—not the first one either—is what prompted my attempt to send her home. Should’ve known she wasn’t just gonna go.

We don’t have to wait long before my doctor pushes in to the room.

“You ready to get out of here?” he opens and at my eager nod, he finally cracks a smile. First one I’ve seen on him that I can recall. “Good. I’ve contacted the care facility in Cortez and they have a bed. They’re expecting you this afternoon.”

Okay, that’s not gonna happen.

“What are you talking about?”

“You no longer need to be here. You still have a sizable blood clot between your skull and your brain, but it’s shrinking as per the last MRI results. You’ll need to continue on the anti-coagulants until it’s dissipated. I strongly suggest a continued aspirin regimen once it does, to prevent further clotting, but your main issues are regaining strength and balance back. Something they’re much better equipped at facilitating in Cortez than we are here in the hospital,” he explains.

“Sick of lying in a bed all day long, Doc. I just need to go home.”

“I get that, Mr. Mason, but since according to Ms. Franklin here, you’re still living on your own and despite how well you think you’re doing now, you’ll be disappointed when you get home. You really need some round the clock care for a little while longer.”

“I’ll do it,” Beth blurts out, startling herself by the looks of it. Frankly, I’m too stunned to object. Her eyes flick over mine insecurely before she straightens her shoulders and turns back to face the doctor. “I can be there.”

“Beth...” I start, but she cuts me off.

“You want to go home? Then you’re gonna have to suck it up, Big Guy. We have a new clinic opening up in town that Doc Waters is running, and she has a physical therapist working with her.” Beth turns to address the man, who nods at Naomi’s name.

“Good doctor. I’ve heard of her through the grapevine. Fine, let me put in a call to see if that arrangement is going to work,” he concedes, looking at me sternly. “But you’ll have to sit on this one, Ms. Franklin. I have a feeling he’s going to give you a run for your money.

He’s chuckling when he leaves the room and I almost miss Beth’s whisper. “He already does...”

-

-

N
ot sure what I was thinking, blurting out that I’d look after Clint. Pretty impulsive and not quite processed through, but the thought of this strong bulk of man being laid up in a facility housing mostly the elderly is almost a travesty. I realize now it means I’ll have to bunk in with him. From what I hear his place is all one level, and it makes much more sense than moving him into mine, where he’d be faced with stairs. Damn.

“What are you doing, Beth?” He wants to know.

Well, isn’t that the million dollar question? Not willing to show my doubts about the arrangement, I shrug my shoulders and play it off lightly.

“Just spent more than a month at your bedside—a couple more weeks isn’t a big deal if it gets you home.”

The look on his face shows he’s not quite buying my attempt at sounding casual, but he’s not questioning me any further.

The tense quiet in the room gives me a chance to sort through the logistics in my head. Although I didn’t bring a lot, I’m still going to have to pack up my stuff at my son’s house. As much as I’m glad to be leaving the tension there behind, I’m going to really miss breakfasts with Max. Part of me wishes I was a little closer, so I could visit more frequently, but I’m also eager to get back to where I’m most at home—in Cedar Tree. I’ll have to just try and keep better tabs on what’s happening with Dylan. Perhaps if I’m not under his nose every day, he’ll be more inclined to talk about what’s bugging him.

-

“B
eth, look...” Clint breaks through the silence. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it’s gonna work.”

“Really? So, what do you suggest then?” I’m sure he can hear the sharp edge to my voice. Dammit that man seriously can’t see the forest for the trees.

“I could hire someone. I mean, it’s not like it’ll be for long—I just need to get my feet back under me.”

“You’d rather have a stranger in your house and up in your business? Be my guest, Clint, if you’ve got that kind of money to burn. I’m gonna head over to my son’s and grab my stuff, because either way, you’re being released today.”

I’m swallowing down the bitter taste of rejection as I get up and move to the door. Honestly, I’m not sure why it feels like I’ve been judged and found lacking. For the longest time he was up in my face with his clumsy ways. Now, he just seems eager to get rid of me. Well good for him, if that’s what he wants.

At the door I look back at the man in the bed, his large frame having lost a lot of the bulk and his head shaved bald with the scars from his surgery still a bit angry looking. The same guy, yet so different from the good-natured big oaf I’d come to know. With a pang of regret I walk out the door, wondering if the changes would be permanent.

-

“M
s. Franklin!” Clint’s doctor calls just as I’m passing the nurse’s station on the way to the elevators. “Could I have a quick word?” He watches me as I approach him. “I just wanted to give you a head’s up. Spoke with Dr. Waters just now, and she’s agreed to monitor Mr. Mason’s progress.”

“Good, I knew she would.”

“Also,” he continues, “there are a few things you need to be prepared for taking care of someone recovering from an injury like Mr. Mason’s. The physical effects are rather obvious, but you’ll also need to consider the emotional impact and even personality changes these patients often go through. May not be easy to deal with someone who might be unpredictable and angry at times. In my experience, the bigger and stronger ones tend to fall hardest. It’s not in their nature to be vulnerable. Keep an eye on him. Depression is not uncommon.”

His tone is wistful, and the look he gives me is one of sympathy, while at the same time sizing me up. Checking to see if I’ll be up to the task. Damn right I’ll be up for it, if Clint hasn’t already cut me off at the pass. Although I just walked out of his room, ready to throw in the towel; this information changes that attitude right around. Sure, I’ll go to Dylan’s house and pack my things, but I’m going to be right back here after that to bring Clint home. There isn’t a person better equipped to take care of his ornery ass.