Vital Signs (10 page)

“Omigod, that's wonderful!” Hailey felt like throwing her arms around him.

“Don't get your hopes up too high. There's al
ways something that can come along and delay the whole process. It's a bureaucracy, remember.”

“I won't. I mean, I'll remember.” She couldn't stop smiling. She knew this could never have happened without his help. “Oh, Roy, thank you.”

“So where's the little guy? I glanced in his room, but he's not there.”

“Follow me.” Hailey led the way to the playroom, where Ingrid had just finished the story. Brittany and Elizabeth were quizzing her on details, but when Hailey and Roy walked in, the kids' attention was diverted.

“Hi, Roy,” a chorus of voices greeted him. The kids were getting to know him.

“Ingrid Bergstrom, this is Roy Zedyck. Roy, my grandmother.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Ingrid got to her feet and smiled, holding out a hand for him to shake. “I understand that you're David's knight in shining armor?”

“I wouldn't go that far.” Roy smiled at her, and Hailey saw right away that Gran liked him. But then, who wouldn't? As Gran herself was fond of saying,
What's not to like?

“You and Hailey look a lot alike,” Roy said.

“Thank you.” Ingrid smiled with pleasure. “I've always been interested in social work,” she said next. “I thought of going into it myself at one point.”

Hailey lifted her eyebrows. As far as she knew, Gran had never given social work a thought as a career choice.

“It can be frustrating at times. And it doesn't leave a lot of time for a life of your own,” Roy commented.

“I'd love to hear more about it. I'm having a luncheon on Sunday at noon. Why not come over and you can tell my husband and me all about the fascinating cases you must have.”

The sneaky thing.
Gran was arranging a setup. Hailey tried to catch her eye, but of course Ingrid didn't look her way. Surely Roy would see what she was up to. Hailey felt her face beginning to turn red with anxiety. How could Gran be so obvious? And, horror of horrors, would Roy think that Hailey had set this up, prompted Gran to invite him?

“Thanks, I'd like that. I'll be there.” Roy dug a notepad out of his pocket and a pen. “What's your address?”

He scribbled it down, and Ingrid glanced at her watch. “I've got to fly—Sam will be wondering what's become of me.” She hugged several of the kids, blew Hailey a kiss and gave Roy one of her most beguiling smiles.

“See you both Sunday and don't be late. I'm making eggs Benedict.”

Hailey waited until Ingrid was gone and then turned to Roy.

“I'm sorry about that. I had no idea she was going to…”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Of course not, why would you?”

“Oh. I just thought… I mean… You know…” Her
face was redder than ever. She could happily have murdered Ingrid for this.

“That she was trying to set us up?” The look he gave her sent hot shivers to her nether regions. And she sensed that he knew exactly how she felt. “I could use all the help I can get. What's wrong with that?”

A buzzer sounded. Hailey had never been so glad to hear a summons.
Everything, you beguiling idiot.

“Well, then, I guess I'll see you Sunday.”

It would serve him right to find out that Gran was the world's worst cook.

T
HE LETTER WAS WAITING
for Hailey when she got to work Friday evening.

The return addressee was Registered Nurses Association of B.C. With sickness gnawing at her gut and fingers that trembled, she tore open the envelope and drew out the single sheet of paper:

Margaret. A feeling of outright hatred for the older woman came over Hailey. What had she ever done except try to perform her job to the very best of her ability and attempt to make her small patients' difficult lives a little easier?

It took every ounce of determination to laugh and tease the kids, to read to them, to spend her coffee break with Brittany, who was going through another series of chemo, and to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Meadows that Lauren was absolutely not being ignored. The little girl was proving to be a tiresome patient, expecting attention every moment and throwing tantrums when the nursing staff didn't re
spond immediately to her buzzer, which rang nonstop all day. The Meadowses weren't easy to reassure, and when they finally left, there were baths to give, meds to administer, kids to coax into bed.

When a quiet time finally came in the middle of the night, Hailey spent it standing beside David's crib and gently stroking his soft, dark curls. He slept soundly, flat on his back, one arm curled around Bonzo.

David and her hope of fostering him seemed the single bright spot in her life at the moment, and her heart ached to take him home and show him the crib she'd refinished for him, the room she'd painted egg-yolk yellow, the toys and little pants and shirts she'd found at a thrift shop. None of those material things mattered to him in the slightest, she knew; babies needed only copious amounts of love, good food, diaper changes on a regular basis. But she was determined to supply this child of her heart with all the things that would add to his enjoyment of life. He'd already had enough bad things happen to him.

She tucked the blanket closer around his small form and wondered with just a trace of irritation whether he'd ever stop clutching that battered stuffed dog.

 

W
ORRYING ABOUT
the investigation made it hard to sleep, and by the time Sunday and Ingrid's luncheon arrived, Hailey felt drained and exhausted. In an effort to lift her spirits, she put on a sky-blue sundress that Jean had given her for her birthday. It fitted
snugly around her narrow waist, and Hailey felt the flared skirt disguised her equally narrow hips.

Roy's blue car was already parked outside the house when she arrived. Feeling nervous, Hailey went inside.

Sam came over and put his arms around her, giving her a warm, welcoming hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You look beautiful in blue,” he declared, which Hailey felt was stretching the truth much too far, especially when Roy gave her a long look and then gallantly agreed.

Ingrid's version of eggs Benedict was every bit as awful as Hailey had anticipated. Runny and a peculiar grayish color, the concoction was virtually in-edible. She watched Roy doing his best to swallow the generous helping Ingrid heaped on his plate, and she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

“Have some toast, Roy,” Sam urged. He and Hailey had been lucky enough to receive small portions of egg, and they were old hands at filling up on toast and marmalade.

But as always, the conversation and laughter made up for the culinary failure. Ingrid got Roy talking about his work, and she and Sam and Hailey listened, fascinated, as Roy related funny and heart-rending stories about his job.

It was Ingrid who asked, “What made you decide to go into social work in the first place?”

“I started out in sports medicine,” he said. “I played football and it seemed a logical progression. But then I listened to a guest lecturer, a social worker, and I decided to change course.” He was
quiet for a few moments, and when he spoke again, he looked straight at Hailey, as if he wanted her to know what he was about to say.

“But there was more to it than that. I think it had to do with my being adopted,” he began slowly.

Hailey found herself unable to tear her gaze away.

“I was adopted as a newborn, and my adoptive parents were already in their mid forties. They were dairy farmers in the Fraser Valley. I was an only child. I always knew I'd been adopted. Mom and Dad are very honest and they told me how lucky they were to have me, considering their age. It was a private adoption, arranged through the family doctor. I knew they loved me, but they were the sort of people who don't believe in making a show of their emotions.”

Hailey knew that Sam and Ingrid were there in the room, but she had the strangest feeling that she and Roy were alone.

“I grew up longing for brothers and sisters and parents who were—well, younger, but looking back, I see that it was a matter of attitude more than age. Mom and Dad lived a regulated life. There weren't any relatives—they'd both come here from Czechoslovakia, leaving their families behind. I didn't invite kids home—Mom had strict rules about things. She was older than my friends' mothers, she dressed differently and talked with an accent, and I didn't want the guys to make fun of her. Dad was a good farmer who didn't believe much in higher education. He wanted me to work with him after I graduated from high school, but I wanted to go to university,
so there were lots of hot and heavy clashes between us. Mom supported me, and it caused trouble between them. I felt responsible. They did the best they could, but I know they never really understood me.” He grinned at Hailey. “Typical teenage angst, huh?” He paused for several moments, and Hailey and her grandparents waited in silence, sensing that the story wasn't complete.

“Then when I was seventeen,” he went on, “I got a call saying that my birth parents wanted to contact me. I didn't want to hurt Mom and Dad, but I knew I had to meet them. Ellie and Stephen Hepburn had been childhood sweethearts. She got pregnant with me when she was fifteen. They both came from high-achieving families, and both sets of parents insisted I be given up for adoption. They went away to university on different sides of the country, but when they were in their twenties, they met again and married. They had five other kids—three girls, two boys.” His smile was bittersweet. “Just goes to show you should be careful what you wish for, because suddenly I had all these sisters and brothers, and I didn't have a clue how to fit in with them, even though they were—”

He stopped and abruptly corrected himself. “They
are
all totally accepting of me. But they grew up in this boisterous, outgoing household, see, where the emphasis was on academic achievement. I try hard, but to this day I can't really be a part of them. Nicole is the only one I'm truly close to, although I see them all a fair amount. They include me in every
family get-together. But my loyalties really lie with the Zedycks, the parents who raised me.”

“They're both still alive?” It was Ingrid who asked, although Hailey was wondering the same thing.

Roy nodded. “They're in their early eighties, in a retirement home now, but they're both still mentally sharp. Mom's had the flu, but she's fine again. I talk to them almost every day. I helped them sell the farm three years ago, when it got to be too much for them. Dad was still disappointed that I didn't want to take it over.” He lifted his cup and sipped coffee that had to be cold.

Hailey got up and took the cup from him, dumping the cold coffee and refilling it with fresh from the pot. She took her time, giving herself a chance to regain her composure, because Roy's story had touched her heart. Tears burned behind her eyes.

It was very clear that he'd never felt he belonged, either with his adoptive parents or with his birth family. It was a situation she could relate to, although she'd had Ingrid, who was her rock. A rush of love for Gran brought a fresh surge of tears, and she had to wipe her eyes and blow her nose on a paper towel before she could return to the table.

But when she did, Ingrid was pulling another of her sneaky moves.

“Isn't today the last day that movie's showing, Sam? The one about the wedding that you promised you'd take me to see?”

Sam started to shake his head, but Ingrid must have kicked him under the table, because he looked
at his watch and sprang to his feet. “We just have time to catch the matinee if we leave right now.”

“You don't mind doing the cleaning up, Hailey? You know where everything goes, honey, and I'm sure Roy will give you a hand. Sorry for being rude, but I've waited forever to see this movie. Thanks for coming over, both of you. We'll do it again really soon. Now where the heck is my hat?”

And just like that, they were gone.

Hailey shut her eyes and blew out an exasperated breath. When she opened them, she caught Roy laughing.

“Your grandma's a babe.”

“My grandma's sly and treacherous and sneaky as hell.”

“I like her style. Shall we get this stuff cleared away?” He started scraping the generous remnants of the eggs Benedict into the garburator. “I don't mean to be rude, but what the heck
was
this stuff, anyway?”

Hailey started to laugh and couldn't stop.

“What?” Roy looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“It's just that Sam and I have asked that question about Ingrid's concoctions more times than you can count. She has the best of intentions, but the truth is, Gran can't cook worth a damn, and the funniest thing is she doesn't know it.”

“Well, I'll be the last one to tell her. The company beats the food any old day.” He opened the dishwasher and started to load it. “I enjoy being
around you, Hailey. I'd like to do more of it, lots more.”

Hailey swallowed hard. She opened the fridge and carefully put the eggs and milk in. She'd been giving a lot of thought to what Gran had said about being so stubborn she ruined everything.

“I enjoyed today, too.” Now, that wasn't so hard. And it was ambiguous enough that he could read something into it or not, just as he chose. She took the dishcloth and wiped the counter. “We seem to spend a lot of time cleaning up kitchens together,” she said.

His voice was soft and low, intimate. It reminded her that they were alone in the house. “I don't suppose that means you might reconsider and step out of the kitchen with me on a real date?”

Gran said he'd ask again. God, Gran is smart.

“I might if you get around to asking me.” She'd meant her reply to be light and teasing, but her chest was tight and her voice didn't sound right.

He didn't seem to notice. He didn't say anything at first, which scared her, but then he took the dish towel she'd slung over her shoulder and carefully dried his hands. He reached out and touched her hair, just a single, gentle touch with the palm of his hand.

“I wanted to see if it would burn me,” he said.

She dared to meet his eyes. He was looking at her in that intense way that made it hard to breathe, as if he liked what he saw.

“Will you have dinner with me, Hailey?”

She drew a shaky breath and blew it out again.

“Okay.”
Idiot.
Surely she knew more enthusiastic
words than
okay.
She tried again. Her hands were shaking. “Yes, I would…like to have dinner with you.” She tipped her head to the side and looked straight at him. It took all her courage, because, Lordy, he was gorgeous. “When?”

“Now?”

She frowned and shook her head, bewildered. “But we only just finished lunch. It's two in the afternoon.”

“I know. But I'm starving. Those eggs didn't do it for me.” He grinned and managed to look abashed. “And I guess I'm also scared that if I give you time to think about it, you'll change your mind.”

She swallowed over the lump in her throat. He was making it clear he really wanted to spend time with her. And Lord knew, today she didn't want to be alone. In the back of her mind was that letter, hanging over her like a thundercloud.

“Okay, then. I guess that's what we'll do.” What was wrong with her vocabulary today? “To tell you the truth, I'm sort of hungry myself.”

This time his grin was huge. “Are we done here?”

She glanced around. “Yup. Clean and shining.” She brushed off her sundress. “I'm not dressed very fancy.”
As if he couldn't see that.

His eyes raked her body and sent heat shooting to private places.

“You look pretty fancy to me. How about Chinatown? We can take my car. I'll bring you back here for yours.”

“I love Chinatown.”

“Settled, then.” He reached out and took her hand. His was broad, the palm surprisingly rough. What did he do to get calluses on his palms? she wondered.

And going to Chinatown at two in the afternoon couldn't be classed as a date, could it?

But she was dead wrong.

It turned out to be a real date, with white tablecloths and hovering waiters and wine, and even a spray of lilies in a vase. She might have been nervous if she'd had a chance to anticipate, but the way it had happened made her relaxed, instead.

Over a leisurely meal in the comfortably elegant and almost empty restaurant, she watched his mouth as he ordered, and she felt giddy and delighted when he reached across and took her hand in his. She should have been nervous and ill at ease, because she hadn't done this dating thing a whole lot. But instead, being here with Roy felt as natural as breathing.

She even got around to asking him about the calluses.

“Oh, I've been refinishing a table. My dad taught me woodworking when I was a little kid. It was his hobby. Like most farmers, he was pretty good at a lot of different things.”

She felt suddenly defensive. “You must have been pretty horrified by the stuff I've refinished.”