Delivered with Love Page 18

  "I could kick my heels off and rest a while." Haley pointed. "I left my suitcase in the other room."

  "Don't you worry about a thing," Claire smiled. "I'll take care of it." She guided Haley to her bedroom.

  "Wow, Claire. Where'd you get the furniture?" Haley sprawled across her bed. "Comfortable too."

  "Long story." Claire walked backward toward the door. "After you rest a while, I'll tell you all about it."

  "You're right." Haley yawned. "Maybe I do need to rest."

  "Take as long as you need." Claire blew a kiss and closed the door. She turned and walked back into the family room. Geraldine looked pale, her eyes were closed, and her lips were a light shade of purple. "Geraldine?" Claire ran to her side. She touched the woman's arm.

  No response.

  "Haley, come quick! Something's happened to Geraldine." Claire checked her neck for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Thank God she was still alive.

  "What's the matter?" Haley came running.

  "Call 9-1-1. I think Geraldine has had a heart attack."

  Michael plopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote. He had missed most of the football game because of the picnic. The scoreboard read ten minutes to go. Enough time to catch the last quarter.

  Sandy walked into the family room wearing her exercise clothes, her iPod nano clipped to her red form-fitting top. She placed the earpieces in her ears. "I'm going for a run." Her tone was chilly. Michael nodded without saying a word.

  Now with the game over, he flipped through the channels. His mind raced to the past. So he wrote Emily a few letters. So what? He was a kid at the time. Michael ran a hand through his wavy hair. He knew that was the least of his worries. His thoughts drifted back to that day so long ago.

  "Michael? Is that you?" Emily's sweet voice had risen an octave, and a smile spread across her face.

  Michael glanced over his shoulder down the hall at his mother's apartment, then back at Emily. "Mind if I come in?" He heard a toddler in the background.

  "Sure, of course. Give me a minute, okay?" Emily shut the door.

  Five minutes later, she welcomed him in. She had let her hair down, and her lips were colored a lovely shade of pink.

  "Who is this?" Michael leaned down and ruffled the little girl's hair.

  "Haley. She's almost two."

  "And your husband?" Michael stood close enough to Emily to take in her perfume.

  "Separated." Emily leaned down and picked Haley up.

  "Want to go out for dinner?" Michael smiled. "Like old times. I'm sure my mother would be more than happy to watch your little girl."

  Michael shook off the memory. How could he look his wife in the eye and tell her that his relationship with Emily had gone beyond his teenage years. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

  He turned the television off and threw the remote across the room. Lord, how will she ever forgive me? He paced the floor. He had to get out of there before Sandy came home. Where would he go? He eyed his car keys sitting on the kitchen counter. Crossing the room in a few steps, he reached for them as the front door opened.

  Sandy's breath came fast and hard. Her hands cradled her hips. "A good hard run was what I needed." She walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with filtered water. "I thought about the letter while on my run."

  "Oh, yeah—" Michael slipped his keys in his pocket.

  "I'm sorry I overreacted." She took several big gulps of water. "We all have people from our past. Right?" She raised her eyes.

  Michael nodded. "So, you're not mad?"

  She cocked her head and pursed her lips together. "Mad, no. A little jealous, definitely."

  Michael came up beside her and eyed her up and down. "I like the way you look in those tights." He touched her thigh, then walked his fingers up her arm.

  She responded to his touch with a grin. "You, my dear, are quite the charmer."

  A feeling of dread wormed its way into his heart. Is that what happened between him and Emily? Did he charm his way into her arms? Michael coughed. He brought his hand to his mouth. "Emily, you are quite charming yourself." He leaned against the counter.

  "Emily?" Sandy glared at him. She tossed the remaining water at his chest and set the glass on the counter.

  "Sandy . . . Sandy." How could I—? Michael grabbed both of her shoulders. "You know I didn't mean it. Of course, I meant to say your name."

  "Well, you better get it straight. We have a daughter getting married soon, and—"

  "Everything's fine and it's going to stay fine, I promise."

  "No." Sandy took a step back. "It's not. It hasn't been for a long time—especially the last six weeks. I don't know what's gotten into you, but I have a feeling it has something to do with Emily."

  "What do you mean?" Michael gripped the edge of the counter.

  "Ever since Claire and your mother came into town, you haven't been yourself."

  "That's ridiculous." Michael raised his voice. "You're imagining things." He turned and looked at the floor. "I'm stressed about work."

  "No, Michael. You can't use work as an excuse. I'm right and you know it."

  "Sandy, come on." He couldn't look her in the eye. She'd see right through him.

  "So, what went on between you and Emily? Huh, Michael?" She folded her arms across her chest.

  "Emily is gone." Michael slammed his fist on the counter.

  Sandy let out a long breath, then walked away and stomped up the stairs.

  Michael took off his soaked shirt, grabbed a clean one from the laundry room, and put it on. How could he have called his wife of twenty-seven years the name of an old girlfriend? He massaged his temples. Should he come right out and tell Sandy everything? No. He'd wait until after Julia's wedding. He pulled his keys from his pocket and headed out the front door.

  The fresh air filled his lungs. He exhaled slowly and slid into his car. He started the engine, glanced over his shoulder before backing out, then slammed on his brakes. Sandy rushed toward him wrapped in a towel with streaks of mascara running down her face.

  "Michael, STOP!" She whipped around to the driver's side door. "It's your mother. She's in the hospital."

  29

  Claire sat in a hard-backed chair leaning her head against the wall in the waiting room of Dominican Hospital.

  "Coffee?" Haley grabbed her purse and stood. "The doctor told us it could take a couple of hours."

  "A mocha, please." Claire reached for her purse. She needed coffee and chocolate at a time like this.

  "My treat." Haley winked, then turned and walked down the corridor.

  Claire glanced at Michael and Sandy sitting across from her. Michael leaned forward with his head resting in his hands. Was he praying? Now would be a good time. Claire had talked to God on and off since she found Geraldine slumped over in her recliner. Sandy sat pin-straight, her hair pushed back behind her ears, and her face void of makeup. Her eyes held a faraway look.

  The last hour had been crazy. Claire was relieved Michael had been there to sign consent forms and give his mother's medical history.

  "Claire." Nancy came toward her in her nurse's uniform and sat down in the empty seat beside her. "I just heard."

  "I was so scared." Claire laid her head on Nancy's shoulder. "Geraldine was so pale. And her lips were blue."

  "You did the right thing." Nancy stroked Claire's hair. "An angioplasty can only be done within the first 90 minutes after a heart attack—you saved her life."

  Claire sat up straight. "If she dies . . ."

  "Now, now." Nancy wrapped her arms around Claire. "We're not going to go there. God knows the number of our days. You can rest in Him."

  Claire rubbed her nose and leaned back. "I hope Geraldine has many more days ahead. I love her so much."

  "I know you do. She's like a grandmother the way she dotes and talks about you. The other night," Nancy chuckled, "when you were on your date with Blake, she talked about how much you remind
her of Michael—the way you tug at your ear when you're nervous, or the determined look in your eye when you want something bad enough. She's impressed with you."

  Like Michael? The thought sent a ripple of fear through her. "I'm afraid I put stress on her today." Claire's eyebrows furrowed.

  "How so?"

  "I pushed her about the letter." Claire opened her purse. "Remember this?" She pulled out the envelope only enough for Nancy to see.

  "Yes. The letter to your mother." Nancy nodded, then shook her head. "I don't get it. Why would Geraldine know anything about it?"

  Claire leaned in and whispered in Nancy's ear. "Because Michael wrote it."

  Nancy's eyes widened. She glanced at Michael, then back at Claire. "When did you find that out?"

  "Just today." Claire tucked the letter inside and zipped her purse. "And I pressured Geraldine to tell me about their relationship this afternoon, right before her heart attack."

  "Oh, sweetie." Nancy hugged her. "Geraldine is on heart medication. She's had a heart condition for a while. It could've happened anytime."

  Haley approached. "Your mocha, sis."

  "Thank you."

  Nancy grinned. "Is this—"

  "My sister Haley." Claire took the steaming drink. "Haley, I'd like you to meet Nancy. You remember the story of my first night in Capitola. Nancy is the tow-truck driver's wife."

  Acknowledgment flashed across Haley's face. "That's amazing how you took my sister into your home."

  "Well, to tell you the truth, Tom has never invited someone to come home before, so it startled me. I didn't know what to think. But then I saw the scared look in Claire's eyes and knew she wasn't a serial killer." Nancy smiled.

  "I had no other options at that point." Claire took a sip of her mocha.

  "You could have called me!" Haley held up a hand.

  The thought turned her stomach. "No way. I don't ever want to live under the same roof as you-know-who."

  "You told me you wouldn't talk about Mark that way." Haley glared at Claire. She crossed one leg over the other and bobbed her foot up and down.

  "Don't get me started, Haley." Claire accidentally tipped her cup and spilled a few drops of coffee on her jeans.

  Haley handed her a napkin. "I'm carrying Mark's child. Nothing will change that."

  The truth consumed Claire like a tidal wave. It didn't matter if Haley was able to get away from her husband. The baby had Mark's blood flowing through his or her veins. Claire's eyes softened. "Truce." She held up two fingers, making a peace sign.

  "You two need a walk?" Nancy stood and pulled both women up by the hand.

  Michael looked over.

  "We'll be back in a little while," Claire offered.

  "Come with me to the nursery." Nancy linked arms with both women. "I want to tell you about my relationship with my sister—"

  "Nancy's sister Vivian worked with me at the diner in L.A.," Claire interjected.

  "We didn't speak to each other for years—too many years— years that were wasted on anger and bitterness." Nancy led them down the hall.

  "What happened?" Haley's heels clicked on the linoleum floor.

  "I had a little girl," Nancy choked out. "Her name was Erica." The three now stood in front of the nursery window. Two baby boys wrapped in blue blankets and three baby girls in pink filled the room.

  "Had?" Claire blinked back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

  "Yes." Nancy gripped the window ledge. "She was two years old when the Lord called her home."

  Claire's heart sank. Nancy would've made a wonderful mother. "I'm so sorry." Claire placed her hand on her friend's arm.

  "Thank you." Nancy dabbed at the corners of her eyes. "For a long time I blamed Vivian. She was babysitting Erica while I was at work. Vivian fed her grapes, and Erica choked. By the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late."

  "That's horrible." Haley's eyes narrowed. "How could Vivian do such a thing?"

  "For a long time, I thought the same thing. I blamed Vivian for Erica's death and I also blamed God. Vivian and I didn't speak to each other for many years. I realized that I was Erica's mother and ultimately responsible. I should have told Vivian to cut up the grapes." Nancy sighed. "I was at work when it happened. What kind of mother was I?"

  "I'm sure an amazing one." Claire pulled Nancy close. "Like a mother I'd like to have."

  "The day you arrived was Erica's birthday." Nancy looked deep into Claire's eyes. "I was sad, grieving over what could have been. Then, you showed up. A woman close to my daughter's age in need of care."

  The Lord provides. Pearl's words filled Claire's mind. "I'm so grateful you took me in. Who knows where I'd be—"

  "Maybe back home in L.A." Haley tapped her manicured nails against the wall.

  Didn't Haley understand how much God was doing in her life here in Capitola? No, probably not. Claire herself didn't realize it until this moment. How could her sister understand? She had wasted the past seven years with an alcoholic husband who didn't have the decency to quit drinking when he had a baby on the way. What kind of father is that? The thought tightened Claire's gut. How did she know what a good father was like? She hadn't had a father figure in her life since she was a baby—and according to her mother, he'd only come around when he needed money or a place to sleep for a few nights. But she could try to imagine a loving Heavenly Father—the one from the verse Geraldine showed her the other day. 1 John 3:1. "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God."

  Haley stepped closer. "I'm sorry for your loss, Nancy."

  Nancy peeked into the nursery once more. "Vivian and I—well, we made up a short while ago. It took all these years for us to see the importance of forgiveness. We are going to be sisters for the rest of our lives. Nothing is going to change that. And the wall that separated us would only have gone higher unless we took it down."

  Claire felt a rush of emotions spiral through her body like a tornado. Would it take years to make things right with Haley if they allowed their differences to come between them? Claire bit her lip and kicked the toe of her shoe on the linoleum floor. It was something to think about. "Thanks for sharing your story, Nancy."

  "Oh, look at the time," Nancy glanced at her watch. "I better get back to work." She hugged Claire tight, then extended her hand to Haley. "I hope you can stay a while. I'd like to get to know you."

  "We'd better get back." Claire tugged on Haley's arm. "Geraldine may be out of surgery."

  "Only two at a time, please," the nurse from the cardiac ward instructed.

  Michael took his wife's hand and headed toward the door, leaving Claire and Haley in the hallway. With tentative steps, Michael approached the side of the bed. His mother looked old and frail. Her eyes were closed, and her short white hair fanned away from her face. He squeezed Sandy's hand before letting go.

  "Mom?" Michael leaned in and gently kissed her cheek.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  "Hi, Mom. You gave us quite a scare." A lump formed in Michael's throat. "How do you feel?"

  "Like I awoke from the dead." His mother's voice sounded raspy.

  Michael pulled up a chair and sat down. "Well, I'm glad you're all right."

  "I thought I was going to see your father. I've been waiting to see him for over twenty-four years." She turned her head and looked directly at Michael. "I almost made it to heaven."

  "We're not ready to let you go just yet." Sandy picked up his mother's hand.

  Michael cocked his head to look at his mom square in the face. "Dad's going to have to wait a while longer."

  "You look so much like your father." His mother's eyes misted. "Your wavy blond hair and strong jaw remind me so much of him."

  Michael relaxed his shoulders as he listened to the steady beat of the heart monitor. His mother was going to be okay— for now. "The doctor said they placed a stent in your heart to keep the artery open." He smoothed her hair. "You're going to b
e in the hospital a while—at least a week."

  "Julia and David will be here soon." Sandy stroked his mother's wrinkled hand. "The wedding wouldn't be the same without you, Mom. I'm so glad you pulled through."

  Her eyes drifted closed. She had fallen back to sleep.

  30

  Claire rolled over and hit the hardwood floor with a thud. The couch wasn't a good substitute for her queen-sized bed. She had insisted Haley sleep in her room. A pain shot through Claire's right shoulder blade—the side she slept on all night. She sat up and arched her back. Why hadn't she thought to sleep in Geraldine's room?

  Geraldine. Claire glanced over at the recliner, remembering the events from the day before. Thank you, Lord, that she's okay. The simple prayer slipped off her tongue. She didn't know what she'd do without Geraldine in her life. The older woman had wormed her way into Claire's heart. If anything happened to her, Claire's life would change. She'd have to look for a new job. Would Michael rent the house to her anymore?

  A knock on the door brought her to her feet. Eight o'clock. Must be Blake.

  Claire grabbed the blanket from the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders, hiding her rumpled clothes from the day before. She swung around the couch and opened the door.

  Blake leaned one hand against the doorframe, the other in his pocket. Would she ever get used to the sight of him? "I get the feeling I woke you." He smiled.

  There was so much to tell him. Where should she begin? There was church, the picnic, the letter, her sister, and Geraldine's heart attack. Thoughts swirled in her head.

  "Where's Geraldine? Still asleep?" Blake inched closer to the doorway and tried to see past her into the family room.

  "I'm sorry. Come in." Claire stepped aside. "Geraldine isn't here."

  "What?" Blake walked through the doorway. "Did she spend the night at Michael and Sandy's?"

  "No." Claire led him to the couch. She spotted Geraldine's water glass sitting on the end table. "Geraldine's in the hospital. She had a heart attack." Hearing her own words sent chills down her spine.