Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(67)

She looked him up and down. “Very nice.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you lift weights?” she asked, struggling to her feet.

“Sometimes. Let me help you with that.” He pulled his shirt around her. Her hands were shaky with age or exertion; he buttoned it up, relieved not to have to see her naked anymore. Not because she was old...just because it was so personal. The shirt hung down to her knees, she was so tiny and frail.

“I suppose you’re going to put me in a straitjacket and tie me into a wheelchair now.”

“Not really my thing,” he said. “But we could talk if you want.”

“I’m too exhausted to run anymore. Go ahead, lock me up in this hellhole if you want.”

“I’m good. Can you tell me where we are and what day it is?”

“We’re in death’s waiting room,” she said, and Connor couldn’t help a laugh.

“How about the town?” he asked.

“We’re in Manningsport at Rushing Creek—there’s no creek that I can see, by the way. And it’s May something. In hell, all the days run together.”

“Fair point. Any pain anywhere? Did you fall down or hurt yourself?”

“No.”

“And as for being naked and running around the place, got an answer for that?”

“Because I hate being called honey by some know-it-all seventy years younger than I am. Thought I’d shake things up a little and rebel.”

Connor laughed again.

“It’s not funny, young man.”

“It’s pretty funny.” She gave him a begrudging smile. He looked around. “I didn’t expect to see so many flowers in hell. Even more than in my yard.”

“Do you live in a nice place?”

She was lonely. And he could see it, having to come live here, maybe not by choice. Having staffers treat you with kindness, but maybe not respect. “My house is a two-family Victorian,” he said. “It’s got a nice front porch, and an apartment upstairs. I bought it because I wanted to marry a nice girl and have her brother live with us.”

“She turned you down, did she?”

“She did. So now it’s just me.”

“You should get a dog.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“I like dachshunds myself.”

“They’re okay.”

“I suppose you like the big, manly breeds.” She gave his torso another appreciative look. He smiled at her.

She sighed. “I’m ready to go back, Connor O’Rourke. Thank you for treating me like a person.”

He stood up and offered his hand. “It was very nice meeting you. Maybe I can come back and visit you.”

“Are you hitting on me, as you young people call it?”

“Would you have me?”

She laughed merrily. “No! You’re young enough to be my great-grandson.”

“Why don’t you give me your cane and take my arm and appreciate how young and strong I am?” he said.

“You’re quite the flirt.”

“Only with women of a certain age.”

“It’s my lucky day, then,” she said, and she handed over the cane and held on to his arm. He led her through the sunroom to where the onlookers were waiting.

“Mrs. Piller,” began a nurse in a sharp tone.

“Arlene has had a hard day,” Connor said.

“It got better when you stripped for her,” Ned quipped, and everyone laughed, even Mrs. Piller. Connor winked at her and helped her into the wheelchair.

“I suppose you want your shirt back,” she said.

“You keep it,” he answered. “I’ll get it when I come visit you.”

Her eyes, surrounded by wrinkles and sagging skin, lit up like a little girl’s at a birthday party.

Mrs. Piller was wheeled away, and Connor had the impression she’d be something of a hero today, whacking the staff, streaking, flirting with a young stud such as himself.

“I can’t wait to tell this story at our reunion next week,” Gerard said. “Our valedictorian, slayer of hearts. Age not an issue.”

Jessica handed him the top of a pair of scrubs. As usual, while everyone else was just taking up space, she’d been useful.

“That was very sweet,” she said.

“Thanks.” He pulled the shirt over his head.

Levi smacked him on the back. “Good job, Con. I’ll fill out the paperwork on this, since you must be feeling dirty.” More laughter. Connor smiled begrudgingly.

“You want a ride home, Connor?” Jessica asked.

Friends. He could do friends. “That’d be great.”

* * *

IT WAS NO surprise to Jessica that Connor had been the hero of that little drama. He was good at things like...well...calming down drama. She drove toward his house, his wonderful cooking-and-soap smell filling her car, his arm just a few inches from hers.

Didn’t manage to say a word. Then again, the drive was only two minutes.

She pulled up in front of his house.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said, opening the door.

“I miss you,” she said suddenly, and her heart banged in her chest. “Nothing has changed, but I want you to know that.”