„You must’ve been angry that she didn’t care enough to be there for you.“
Kristen considered it. „I suppose so. I was mad. Plus, my father cracked down even harder on me. You’d’ve thought it was me that was the wild child. He wouldn’t let me leave the house except for school. I missed the football games, prom, everything. But I had a wonderful art teacher in high school who helped me get the work study program in Florence, set me up with a local family. Even asked my father for permission to let me go.“
„He said no.“
Kristen looked up at him. His eyes hadn’t left her face. „He said no.“ She shrugged. „So I defied him and went anyway. I was eighteen by then and had saved my money from babysitting before Kara died. Plus, Kara had a nest egg set aside. I knew she’d want me to have it, so I took it and bought a ticket to Italy. One way. I knew I’d eventually have to come home, but I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.“
„I can’t visualize you as an extemporaneous girl,“ Abe said softly.
Kristen thought of the girl she’d been. „Time changes people. Anyway, I came back from Italy and went to college. My father never changed, so I just… left“ It was a partial truth, but all she was able or willing to tell at this point. Maybe ever.
He studied her face and she knew he knew she hadn’t told the whole story, but he didn’t press. „You said your father is still alive. When was the last time you saw him?“
„Last month.“
Abe’s brows shot up. „Last month?“
„Yes. My mom is in a nursing home.“ Her throat tightened. „She’s in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s. She hasn’t recognized me in three years, but I fly back to Kansas once a month to visit her. My dad was there the last time. He usually doesn’t come on my Sundays, but my mom had a bad night and they’d called him in. He left the room when I arrived, so technically I saw him, but we didn’t speak.“
„I’m sorry.“
„So am I. It’s hard to see my mother like that. I enjoyed just watching your mother tonight Before Kara died, my mom used to love being in her kitchen. After Kara died, she was too depressed. Now she just lies there, wasting away. She hasn’t been my mom since I was sixteen.“
He was quiet a moment. „I used to visit Debra and talk and talk and never know if she heard a word I said.“
Kristen rested her forehead on his chest „Sometimes,“ she said wearily, „I just wish she’d die and then I feel so guilty.“
His chest rose and fell. „Yeah, I used to do the same. And I’d feel guilty, too.“
„On Friday night you said she was in a coma for five years.“ Five years was one hell of a long time to watch someone you loved just exist.
„She wasn’t in a coma. She was in a persistent vegetative state. It’s different. Debra was clinically brain-dead from the moment they wheeled her into the ER.“
Kristen hesitated, then blurted it out. „Did you ever consider pulling her life support?“
Another rise and fall of his massive chest. „Only every time I saw her or thought about her. But I couldn’t. As long as she was alive, I just couldn’t. But her parents wanted me to.“
Kristen’s eyes widened. „I thought parents were usually the ones to hold on.“
„Not Debra’s.“ His face shadowed. „Her father was suing me for custody when she died. They said she wouldn’t want to go on like that and I knew it was true, but she was alive.“
„And if she was alive there was hope.“
„Yes. Then Debra’s mother had a heart attack. Her father said seeing Debra like that year after year was killing her. He was desperate. I didn’t know what to do, but I just couldn’t do what he wanted. He filed for custody a month before Debra got an infection and died on her own. Her parents and I didn’t part on what you’d call friendly terms.“
„I guess not.“
He sighed. „Debra and Ruth were cousins. That’s how we met Sean and Ruth set me up with Debra on a surprise blind date.“
That was important for some reason, Kristen thought and searched her brain for a connection, nodding when she found it „That’s what Ruth was talking about the other night when she was here. Her mother invited Debra’s parents to the christening.“
Abe smiled ruefully. „Very good. Now if you can think of what I’m supposed to say when I see them, I’ll be really impressed. But that’s enough angst for one night“ He stood up, letting her body slide against his until her feet hit the floor. He pressed his lips to her forehead, held them there for three hard beats of her heart. Then he pushed her gently toward her bedroom. „One massage. Then I’ll get a lousy night’s sleep on your sofa.“
„It’s uncomfortable?“
„No.“ He sounded regretfully amused, walking behind her. „I will be.“
She stopped short, her whole body stiffening. He came closer and his heat burned her back. „I’m sorry.“ And she was. He would be, too, when the time finally came.
He pushed her curls off her neck and brushed his lips against her skin. She shuddered. „Don’t be,“ he murmured. „I meant what I said. One day at a time. That’s what we’ll do.“
She gathered up her courage. „You’ll be… disappointed.“
His breath was warm against her skin. „I don’t think so. But don’t worry about that now. Right now I’m going to get those knots out of your back and you’re going to sleep like a baby.“ He gave her another little shove. „You have my personal guarantee.“
She stopped next to her bed. Plucked at her blouse uncertainly. Felt like a fool. She was thirty-one years old, for God’s sake.
„Whatever makes you most comfortable,“ he murmured. „You said you trust me.“
She drew a deep breath and lay facedown on her bed, her clothes intact „I do.“ More than any man I’ve ever known.
„Scoot over a little,“ he said and sat down at her hip. „I have to confess up front. I learned how to do massages for Debra. It kept her muscles from atrophying, and the hospice never had the staff to do it as often as needed to be done.“
She tensed when he put his hands on her, but he said nothing, just started working her muscles with methodical skill until she began to relax. „Mmm. You’re so good at this.“
He still said nothing, just continued working the muscles on either side of her spine and she sighed. And wondered how it would feel to have his hands directly on her skin.
His hands paused. „It would feel much better, I think,“ he murmured, his voice warm and husky. „Take off your shirt.“
Once again, she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. She should feel threatened that this man was able to draw her very thoughts into the open, but she wasn’t. „Turn around.“ She stripped off her blouse, hesitated at her bra. That would stay. She resettled herself on her stomach. „Okay.“ Then waited expectantly for the first feel of his hands on her bare flesh. She sucked in a breath when he touched her, let it out on a long sigh. He was right. It was much better.
„You have a very pretty back,“ he said softly and she shivered. Hard.
„Cold?“
„No.“ Not even close. She was warm wherever he touched her and everywhere he didn’t. Her breasts grew sensitized within the confines of her plain cotton bra and her pulse throbbed between her legs with an almost painful pressure. She arched her back, pressing her pelvis into the mattress.
He paused. „Did I hurt you?“
„No.“ Not like he meant anyway. It was more like an ache. An ache only he could take away. I want him to touch me.
Abe stopped abruptly. She hadn’t meant the words to be heard. He knew that. But he’d heard them nevertheless. She wanted him to touch her, and right here, right now, he could think of little else. But he’d promised her a proper massage. Nothing more. Even though he could just see the plump curve of her breast. Even though her spine dipped enticingly at the waist of her wool slacks. Even though right now he was harder and more ready than he thought he’d ever been before.