nursing home. Had he come to find me? If he had, he hadn’t wasted any time. I shuddered. The last of my strength wavered under those implacable eyes, but I squared my shoulders and straightened my spine.
“Rain happened to me,” I spat out. “And life, too, but that’s beside the point. I’m afraid I can’t talk to you right now. I’m busy.”
“Busy?” He glared at me as if I’d somehow insulted him. “Look at you.” He pried me away from the desk. “Mrs. Ambrose, could you please get us some towels?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Ambrose rushed to do Josh’s bidding.
It didn’t escape me that everyone in the nursing home was ogling Josh and glaring at me as if I were a demon.
Josh dragged me into a small alcove off the reception room. “You need to listen to me.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I have to talk to Mrs. Ambrose.”
“Sit down,” he said curtly. “I’ve already done that.”
“What?”
“I’ve already talked to Mrs. Ambrose and settled your mother’s account.”
Just then, Mrs. Ambrose bustled in carrying a pile of towels.
“Is that true?” I asked her.
Mrs. Ambrose gazed adoringly at Josh. “A wire transfer hit our account in the early morning hours for all outstanding charges, including late fees and other penalties. And just now, under Mr. Lane’s personal supervision, your mother was transferred to Parkview, which as you know, provides our highest level of care. Mr. Lane produced paperwork signed by your husband authorizing the move and, frankly, I didn’t think you’d object.”
My caffeine-propelled boost and my knees gave out at the same time. I plopped down on the chair. Parkview would have been my first choice for Mom, if I had oodles of money and some influential friends to help me get around the long waiting list.
“Do you believe me now?” Josh handed me a towel. “Or are you still too busy to talk to me? Thank you, Mrs. Ambrose. That will be all for the moment.”
He took a knee before me and, after peeling off my soggy shoes and drenched socks, wrapped my shriveled feet in a towel. I was suddenly too cold to think and too tired to function. The sight of him on the floor and me on the chair was somehow wrong. This is what it must have looked like when Jesus washed the disciples’ feet.
“Really, Lily, don’t you own a better jacket?” He helped me out of my soaked coat. “You’ve got to stop doing stuff like this. You’re going to catch pneumonia.”
“I can’t believe you did this.” I wiped my face and discovered that my admittedly inexpensive mascara was anything but waterproof. “Why?”
“We made an agreement,” he said, drying my hair with such fervor that my scalp burned. “You did your part and now I’m doing mine.”
For once, I was speechless. I hadn’t realized that Josh Lane would act this quickly. He was as fast and nimble as the Roadrunner, whereas I felt as clumsy as Wile E. Coyote. I couldn’t believe his level of efficiency. My mom was at Parkview. Parkview! I felt as if I could breathe again. Instead, I sneezed.
“Jesus Christ.” Josh handed me an immaculate handkerchief. “I swear, if you get sick, I’m going to spank you for being so careless.”
The expression on my face must have been telling, because he shook his head. “It’s just an expression, Lily, one of frustration. Let’s go.” He scooped me out of the chair and into his arms with very little effort. “I’m afraid that short of tossing you into an industrial size dryer, we’re not going to make much more progress here.”
“Hey,” I said. “I can walk. Put me down!”
“You’re barefoot,” he said. “These floors must be crawling with germs.”
“Wait,” I said. “My shoes!”
“They’re done,” he said, tramping across the reception room, oblivious to the bewildered staff and visitors.
“I can save them,” I said. “I’ve done it before.”
“Too many times, apparently.”
“But—”
“No buts, Lily,” he said in
“Rain happened to me,” I spat out. “And life, too, but that’s beside the point. I’m afraid I can’t talk to you right now. I’m busy.”
“Busy?” He glared at me as if I’d somehow insulted him. “Look at you.” He pried me away from the desk. “Mrs. Ambrose, could you please get us some towels?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Ambrose rushed to do Josh’s bidding.
It didn’t escape me that everyone in the nursing home was ogling Josh and glaring at me as if I were a demon.
Josh dragged me into a small alcove off the reception room. “You need to listen to me.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I have to talk to Mrs. Ambrose.”
“Sit down,” he said curtly. “I’ve already done that.”
“What?”
“I’ve already talked to Mrs. Ambrose and settled your mother’s account.”
Just then, Mrs. Ambrose bustled in carrying a pile of towels.
“Is that true?” I asked her.
Mrs. Ambrose gazed adoringly at Josh. “A wire transfer hit our account in the early morning hours for all outstanding charges, including late fees and other penalties. And just now, under Mr. Lane’s personal supervision, your mother was transferred to Parkview, which as you know, provides our highest level of care. Mr. Lane produced paperwork signed by your husband authorizing the move and, frankly, I didn’t think you’d object.”
My caffeine-propelled boost and my knees gave out at the same time. I plopped down on the chair. Parkview would have been my first choice for Mom, if I had oodles of money and some influential friends to help me get around the long waiting list.
“Do you believe me now?” Josh handed me a towel. “Or are you still too busy to talk to me? Thank you, Mrs. Ambrose. That will be all for the moment.”
He took a knee before me and, after peeling off my soggy shoes and drenched socks, wrapped my shriveled feet in a towel. I was suddenly too cold to think and too tired to function. The sight of him on the floor and me on the chair was somehow wrong. This is what it must have looked like when Jesus washed the disciples’ feet.
“Really, Lily, don’t you own a better jacket?” He helped me out of my soaked coat. “You’ve got to stop doing stuff like this. You’re going to catch pneumonia.”
“I can’t believe you did this.” I wiped my face and discovered that my admittedly inexpensive mascara was anything but waterproof. “Why?”
“We made an agreement,” he said, drying my hair with such fervor that my scalp burned. “You did your part and now I’m doing mine.”
For once, I was speechless. I hadn’t realized that Josh Lane would act this quickly. He was as fast and nimble as the Roadrunner, whereas I felt as clumsy as Wile E. Coyote. I couldn’t believe his level of efficiency. My mom was at Parkview. Parkview! I felt as if I could breathe again. Instead, I sneezed.
“Jesus Christ.” Josh handed me an immaculate handkerchief. “I swear, if you get sick, I’m going to spank you for being so careless.”
The expression on my face must have been telling, because he shook his head. “It’s just an expression, Lily, one of frustration. Let’s go.” He scooped me out of the chair and into his arms with very little effort. “I’m afraid that short of tossing you into an industrial size dryer, we’re not going to make much more progress here.”
“Hey,” I said. “I can walk. Put me down!”
“You’re barefoot,” he said. “These floors must be crawling with germs.”
“Wait,” I said. “My shoes!”
“They’re done,” he said, tramping across the reception room, oblivious to the bewildered staff and visitors.
“I can save them,” I said. “I’ve done it before.”
“Too many times, apparently.”
“But—”
“No buts, Lily,” he said in
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