“Rubbish. You can help. The pole will roll with me. Watch.” Cal caught his father’s arm as he stood, and provided support while he steadied himself. White hair stuck out in all directions from his head, and his legs were splotchy with purple spots around the ankles.
“Are you sure this is okay, Dad?”
“I’m sure they’d prefer I make it to the bathroom. Shake a leg, son, and hold the back together, will you? I know how distracted these nurses can be when they see a set of well-seasoned buns.”
Cal laughed and moved with his father, dragging the IV pole into the bathroom and waiting until his father was situated, at which point the patient ordered his son out, saying he could be left on his own for a few minutes. Cal stepped outside the bathroom to give his father privacy.
The nurse’s head popped around the door to the hallway. “Is he all right?” she asked.
“He’s in there,” Cal said.
“Let’s have a look.” She opened the room door wider and came around to the bathroom door.
“How are you doing in there, Mister Forster?” she asked, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Cal could hear her talking and his father’s muffled replies.
Within minutes, the nurse opened the door and walked with her patient out of the bathroom. She held the gown together in the back until his father sat on the edge of the bed, then helped him swivel himself onto the pillow and lift his feet back onto the mattress.
“Golly, Rachel,” Cal Sr. said. “I’m weaker than I thought. What have you all been doing to me?”
She laughed. “I don’t think we did the doing. Need anything else right now?”
“No, dear. Thank you for everything.” She tucked the sheet around him. He grasped her arm and asked, “Are you married?”
Nurse Rachel laughed again. “I am not. Are you looking for a date?”
“Lord, no, honey. But my son over there is a good catch. He’s single, too. Best fellow you could ever want. Maybe I’m only here for the meeting of you two.”
She gently tucked his arm under the cover. “Call if you need anything.”
Before exiting the door, she looked at Cal and said, “He’s doing much better.”
With deep brown eyes, unblemished smooth skin, and sleek black hair cut even with the bottom of her ears, Nurse Rachel stood a few inches shorter than Cal.
“I was on duty yesterday when they brought him up,” she said. “He was confused, and slightly dehydrated.”
“Can he go home today?” Cal asked.
“I doubt they’ll let him out today, but it’s the doctor’s call.”
“He hears you talking about him,” his father said. “He’s not deaf.”
Nurse Rachel smiled. “He’s feisty,” she said, and left the room.
“Everybody treats me like I’m a kid,” Cal’s father said. “Get me out of here, son.”
“Okay, Dad. I’ll see what I can do.”
They spent the rest of the day together. Heidi visited in the afternoon, visibly relieved both by her father’s improvement and her brother’s presence. Before she left, she told Cal she would cook the turkey this year. He should focus on their father.
Cal agreed, saying he would do whatever she wanted, and they shared a warm hug. Grateful to be able to help both of them, Cal settled into the chair once more to watch his father snore.
He wondered how Bryony was doing with Bailey and Buggy. Pleased to have a reason to call her later, he let himself drift into a nap, and dreamed of a nurse with auburn hair who wanted to play doctor.
BRYONY’S MILLIONAIRE PIE
In the evening, Bryony returned to Cal’s house. This time she leashed Bailey first thing, and he took her for a long walk. When they returned, Buggy waited at the door. She curled her plump feline body around Bryony’s lower legs, leaving a layer of long cat hairs on black tights.
After feeding both of them and washing their dirty food bowls, Bryony explored Cal’s fully equipped kitchen cabinets—surely the owners had supplied the pots, pans, mixing bowls, baking dishes, and cooking utensils—and, inspired by what she found there, set up a few needed items on the counter beside the sink.
Then she made a quick trip to the store for ingredients.
When she returned, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and commenced with pie making in the most luxurious kitchen she had ever seen in real life, similar sightings limited to high end makeovers in glossy magazines.
First, she made two graham cracker crusts. Next, she blended cream cheese, condensed milk, and whipped topping. To the dairy base, she added a can of drained crushed pineapple and chopped pecans. All of that she poured into the graham cracker crusts and put them into the refrigerator to chill for the evening.
Millionaire pie.
Because being in Cal’s house and preparing food in his fabulous kitchen made her feel like a million bucks.
After cleaning up the pie-making mess, Bryony curled up in the wingback chair to read a book. Animals need companionship, she reasoned. Feeding them was not enough. She needed to stay with them, to remind them they were not forgotten.
Thirty minutes into her book, Bailey came to lie on the rug, and the cat jumped to the back of the chair, her tail swishing over Bryony’s ear. The tickling sensation made her smile. She could get used to this.
When her phone rang, Bryony picked it up, checked the number, and put it to her ear. “Hi, Mitch. What’s up?”
