A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)(73)

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I don’t know anything yet.” I couldn’t control my reaction, my need for comfort, for him. I reached out to Brad. I needed his arms around me one last time, for courage and strength. He seemed to understand that intuitively, and when I moved toward him, he drew me into his embrace.

“We have to go,” Margaret said in a low voice.

He released me, and I thanked him wordlessly, then rushed out of the store.

The staff at Swedish was wonderful, although it took what seemed like hours before we were able to talk to anyone. I berated myself over and over for not being more available to my mother. She was never demanding of my time and grateful for whatever I gave her. I did visit two or three times a week, but clearly that wasn’t enough.

Margaret saw her as often as she could, too. But Mom needed more than scattered visits from her two daughters. I was nearly choking on guilt and so, I suspected, was my sister.

Margaret hated being inside a hospital. It was because of the smell, she said, which immediately made her feel anxious. I’d spent practically my entire youth in one and had grown so accustomed to it that I no longer noticed. Margaret had a firm grip on my arm, and for once she was relying on me.

We were asked to wait in a sitting room until the doctor could update us on Mom’s condition. The chairs were comfortable, and a television was on, playing a soap opera—ironically it was General Hospital. I didn’t pay attention, didn’t hear a single word. My mind whirled with guilt and fear and recriminations. I was certain I’d failed my mother and that everything was somehow my fault.

A physician appeared and, as if our movements were synchronized, Margaret and I stood simultaneously.

The doctor came straight to the point. “Your mother is in serious condition. She’s in a diabetic coma.”

This was a shock to both of us.

“We’ve got her stabilized and I expect her insulin levels to even out, but this is a disease that is not to be taken lightly.”

“No one in the family is diabetic,” Margaret said. “We had no idea Mom could come down with this.”

“She lives alone?”

We both nodded.

Again the physician was straightforward. “Well, I’d suggest you investigate placing her in assisted living.”

He wanted us to take our mother out of the only home she’d known for the last fifty years. I didn’t know if I could do that—but I realized we had no choice.

CHAPTER 30

ELISE BEAUMONT

The house was quiet when the light tap sounded at Elise’s bedroom door. She was waiting for Maverick. She was so in love with this man that she’d lost all sense of propriety. She knew what he was, knew it to the very depths of her heart, but now—just like all those years ago—it didn’t seem to matter.

The knock came, and she opened her door to let him in. He pulled her into his arms and they kissed. They’d made love just once—the night after their excursion into the mountains—and when it was over, they’d both cried, holding each other in the aftermath of passion. Their first sexual reunion had been a combination of excitement, embarrassment, fear and anticipation. They’d felt awkward with each other, but they’d also experienced tenderness and joy. They’d spent most nights together since then, simply holding each other close. After sleeping alone all these years, Elise hadn’t thought it possible to bring a man to her bed, a single bed at that. Anyone seeing them cramped against the wall would’ve found the sight comical, she was sure. She fell asleep in his embrace and then in the early hours of the morning, Maverick slipped back into the boys’ room.

No one was the wiser. At least, not as far as she knew. She suspected David and Aurora had guessed, but neither mentioned it. Elise pretended her daughter was oblivious to the late-night shuffle between Maverick’s room and hers.

“This is silly, you know,” Maverick murmured, pulling back the sheet so they could get into bed together. He let her go first and then followed.

“What’s silly, our being together?” He was right, but she found it alarming that he’d admit it.

“Our being together is the only thing right about this situation,” Maverick insisted in a husky whisper. “What’s wrong is sneaking around in the middle of the night. Good grief, Elise, I’m sixty-six years old. The last time I did this, I was a teenager.”

“Stop!” she said, giggling.

“Don’t tell me you’re accustomed to this.”

“Of course I’m not!”

“Then let me make an honest woman of you.”

Elise slid under the sheets until she was down far enough to rest her head against Maverick’s shoulder. “Are you suggesting we…get married? Again?” While it might sound appealing, she wasn’t convinced that was really the solution.

“Do you want to live in sin?”

“I…I don’t know.” She’d had her freedom for the past thirty years. “Can I think about it?”

“Yes.” He rubbed his leg against hers. “I love you, Elise. I’ve always loved you.”

She believed Maverick did love her, but that didn’t mean she could trust him. If she was a gambling woman, she would’ve bet that, given the opportunity, he’d be back at the gaming tables.

Maverick kissed the top of her head. “I talked to the real estate agent about the apartment complex this afternoon,” he whispered.