Baby in His Arms. Linda Goodnight

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СКАЧАТЬ inside, he bent to kiss her soft paper-thin cheek. She smelled exactly as she had for as long as he could remember—of face powder and Chanel No. 5. He should know. He bought the perfume for her every Christmas. “How’s my best girl?”

      “Fit as a fiddle. Did you get my medicine?”

      “Yep. Stopped at the pharmacy on the way. Your pills are in here, along with the groceries on your list.”

      She scooted the walker around, leaning more heavily than she had last week and slowly scraped along toward the plaid blanket-clad lift chair. With a twinge of guilt, Creed regretted not coming by all week. But with his business hopping and the two evenings at flakey Haley’s house, he hadn’t. Last evening, a couple had booked a romantic sunset flight, and by the time the heli was serviced and put away, he’d not gotten back to his apartment until late.

      “Your daddy took to me to see Dr. Ron yesterday,” Grandma said, the words whooshing out with a grunt as she lowered herself into the recliner.

      “What did he say?”

      “My knee’s shot. Just as we figured. He wants to send me down to Little Rock for a knee replacement.”

      Creed set the bag of groceries on the counter. Her tiny apartment had a combined living room and kitchen with a bedroom and bath off one side. That was it. A tiny place that was easy for her aging body to maneuver in.

      “When?”

      “I’m still deciding, honey. Your old granny is wearing out. Putting a fake knee inside of my leg won’t turn back the clock.”

      “But a new knee will keep you mobile.”

      “Oh, I reckon.” She nodded, the still-thick hair as iron-gray and fluffy as a storm cloud. “But all that recuperation time, I’ll be stuck in a strange city in some rehab center.”

      He smiled, understanding. Granny had lived her whole life in the rural mountains, had drawn water from a well and lived without electricity or modern convenience. A depression-era hill woman, cities scared her. “I’ll come visit you and bring Mom and Dad in the chopper. Aunt Darlene lives close to Little Rock. She and her kids will come.”

      “I know it, but I still don’t like to be gone from home that long.” She rocked a little. “You think I should do this?”

      “Do you want to work in your roses again?”

      Chuckling, she pointed a gnarled finger at him. “You know right where to get me, don’t you?”

      Grandma Carter had grown roses of every kind until arthritis and age had forced her to give up her old farmhouse in the hills and move into town. Even though she didn’t complain, he knew she missed the country. And the roses.

      “I talked to the unit manager a few days ago. She said you can plant flowers out in front as long as you take care of them. As soon as you’re ready, say the word and I’ll dig up a space to get you going.”

      “Will you take me out to the farm for cuttings?”

      “When you get that new knee, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

      She shook her fist at him. “Oh, you are a sly one.”

      From his spot in the kitchenette, he winked at her. “Love you, too, Grandma.”

      The grocery bag crinkled as he emptied the contents, putting each item in its proper place in the cabinets or refrigerator. Granny kept her things orderly, the way he liked.

      The talk of flowers and order sent his thoughts to Haley and her disorderly tangle of vines and plants and flowers. “Do you know Haley Blanchard?”

      “Well, let’s see.” Grandma propped a palm against her cheek. “Seems like I’ve heard the name. Why?”

      “No reason, really. She grows flowers like you do.”

      “You sweet on her?”

      In spite of himself, heat rushed up the back of his neck. “No way. She’s too hippielike for me. She takes in foster kids.”

      And according to Thomas and the icy stares from Brent Henderson, Haley had a boyfriend.

      “Ah.”

      What did that mean? Ah?

      “Don’t read anything into it, Grandma. Haley is fostering the little baby I found at church.”

      Grandma’s crooked hand pressed to her heart. “How’s that precious child doing? Poor little lamb. Just breaks a body’s heart.”

      “Doing good. Anyway, she was the last time I stopped in.”

      “So you been visiting her? This Haley woman?”

      “The abandoned baby.”

      “The baby.” She rocked some more. “Ah.”

      That one little, heavily loaded sound was starting to wear on him. Visiting an abandoned baby was not the result of some deep-seated, psychological need rising from his own personal situation. Nor was the visit a quest for romance.

      “I brought you some peanut brittle from Evie’s Sweets and Eats.”

      “Well, get it out of that sack, child. Let’s eat it. I know you want some.” She shot him an ornery grin. “I also know you don’t want to talk about this Haley or the baby.”

      Creed shook his head. “How did Grandpa survive fifty years?”

      Grandma snickered.

      Grinning, Creed took the candy from the paper sack and handed her the smaller zippered bag of candy. While her arthritis-twisted fingers sought the opening, a white truck pulled up outside. “Dad’s here.”

      “That son of mine can smell peanut candy a mile away. Better hide it quick.”

      When he snorted at her, she laughed again. Grandma was a spitfire even now, and she loved nothing more than a good laugh. Strong and solid as the mountains and as full of God as the sky, she’d lost a daughter and three grandchildren, nursed a bedridden husband for ten years and still found the good and beautiful in everyday life. Even though her blood didn’t run in Creed’s veins, he hoped he’d gained some of her qualities.

      His father walked through the door, also carrying a grocery sack though Creed suspected his held Mama’s home cooking. “Creed, son, I was planning to come by your office.”

      “What’s up?”

      “Nothing in particular.” He set the paper bag on the counter next to the plastic sacks. “I thought we might have lunch if you aren’t too busy.”

      Creed checked his watch. “I have a tour in about thirty minutes, but unless I get a walk-in, noon is clear. Want to meet up at the Iron Horse or Clemson’s Café?”

      Whisper Falls boasted only a handful of eating places. Other than the Pizza Pan and a couple of burger hangouts, choices were thin. Some people wanted СКАЧАТЬ