Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(66)

“What’s her medical condition?” Connor asked.

“Well, she’s older than the puppy God got as a child, and she weighs about ninety pounds, but she’s like a ninja with that cane. Dementia.”

“Fun,” Ned said. “Okay, we got this, right, Connor?”

“Hey, guys.”

It was Jess.

“Got your lasso ready?” Ned asked. “She’s already taken out three orderlies.”

There was a crash from the conservatory, a great glass-domed structure. The smell of soil and humidity was rich in the air. A tiled walk led through the enormous room; it was one of the bigger selling points of Rushing Creek, and Connor could see why. Orchids—Bailey’s favorite!—roses, even lilac trees were in bloom. There were orange and lemon trees, and Connor caught the scent of basil, chives and coriander. Good. Fresh herbs improved virtually every dish. Maybe he should teach a cooking class for seniors here.

“It’s awfully quiet,” Ned said. “Hold me, Jess, I’m scared.”

“Be professional,” Connor muttered. “Mrs. Piller?” he called. “It’s Connor O’Rourke. I’m an EMT with the fire department. You doing okay?”

“Bite me!” came a creaky voice.

“What a sweet little old lady,” Ned said.

“Con, you have such a way with the elderly,” Jessica added.

“You’re both so helpful,” Connor muttered. “Mrs. Piller, you need to come back to your room, okay?”

“No! Not okay! Take a bite of this, mister!” With that, she shook her withered shanks from behind a potted palm.

“Oh, my Jesus. I’m too young for this,” Ned said. “I’ll get backup. Where’s Levi, anyway?”

Actually, the rest of the emergency services department was standing in the conservatory entrance, shooting the shit and laughing, from the look of it. Levi, Emmaline, Gerard, Bryce Campbell, a few others Connor couldn’t see. “Hey, Connor,” Emmaline called. “You were first on the scene. You’ve got this, buddy.”

“We’re here if you need us,” Levi seconded, grinning.

“Thanks,” Connor said.

“I’m never going back!” Mrs. Piller yelled. “And you can’t make me! I have a cane! I will hit you! I will hit you hard!”

Connor looked at Jess, who seemed to be enjoying herself. She was wearing a cute little white shirt and cropped jeans, canvas shoes on her feet.

As ever, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He was done with dating, he decided then and there. He’d rather be alone than with someone who wasn’t Jess. He didn’t want kids if she wasn’t going to be their mother. He’d be Uncle Con, and a great brother to Savannah and Colleen, and Paulie Petrosinsky, for that matter.

The decision made him feel strangely lighter.

“Let’s go get her,” Jessica said.

“Don’t you dare!” Mrs. Piller said. There was a rustle of leaves and a flash of bluish-white skin as she scurried from one tree to another.

“Mrs. Piller, we just want to make sure you’re okay,” Jessica said. “Can I come closer?”

“Only if you want a cane in your eye.”

Connor grinned. Had to admire the old lady’s spirit. “How about if we just hang out for a while?” he suggested. “Just the three of us.”

“I don’t trust women,” came the answer.

“Me neither,” he said, looking at Jess and feeling his mouth tug. “How about just us two, Mrs. Piller? You and me?”

There was a pause. “All right.”

“Out you go, Jessica,” he said.

“You sure? I don’t want her to hurt you.”

“I have a thing for women who hurt me, as you well know.” She smiled in response, always a good sport.

“Good luck, you big hero,” she said, and she left, closing the French doors behind her. “This is not a show, people,” he heard her say to the rest of the squad. “Give me that phone, Ned.”

Maybe Connor and Jess really could be friends. They’d known each other too long not to like each other anymore. If it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest every time he saw her, then so be it. Being friends with her was better than dating Not Jessica.

He walked slowly toward where he thought Mrs. Piller was. She was stroking the petals of an orchid, naked as the day she was born. Her knees were swollen with arthritis, and, well, gravity had taken its toll on just about everything. A wave of sympathy rolled over him. If this had been his grandmother, he’d want her to be treated with dignity.

“How was your day, Mrs. Piller?” he asked, walking slowly toward her.

“Call me Arlene. It wasn’t my best,” she said.

“Any reason?”

“I just... I get sick of needing people. I hate people.”

“Me, too.” She held her cane, but it seemed like her batting impulse was over. “Hi,” he said, extending his hand. “Connor O’Rourke.”

She didn’t shake it. “That’s a nice name. I’ll still hit you if you try to catch me, but that’s a fine Irish name.”

“On behalf of my mother, thank you.” She smiled at that. Didn’t seem demented to him. He started unbuttoning his shirt. “How about if you put this on?” He shrugged out of it and offered it to her.