Soon she’d need to handle so much that in this quiet late-morning moment, when Wilder asked to handle her, it was enough. It was as close to perfect as life could get.
Outside the world was white, pure, like the most perfect Christmas card with snowcapped peaks, and pines heavily laden.
“Look, there.” She pointed. Three deer moved noiselessly past the window.
“Move in with me,” he said, watching her instead.
“What?” she squeaked, and the deer jumped, reacting to her yelp, even from within the cottage.
“You don’t have a place to live and I like you in my bed.”
“Um, that’s great and all, but what about me burning dinner? I’m serious; my failed superhero alter ego is Kitchen Disaster Girl. You will lose weight and I’ll miss all those big strong muscles.”
“I’ll still want to kiss the cook and sneak a dirty peek under her cape.”
“Or what about the fact that I leave wet towels on the bathroom floor? Or the fact I’ll totally nag when you leave the toilet seat up?”
“Towels can be picked up and I never leave the toilet seat up.”
“Even as a bachelor?”
“Grandma Kane drilled that rule into us boys from the get-go. I couldn’t leave a seat up if I tried.”
“You’re serious?”
“There’s nothing to joke about here. I want you, want this.” He tickled her foot. “My alter ego is Ornery Bastard, but he’s met his match.”
“So no more hermit?”
“When I turned my back on the world, I missed some pretty damn fine sights.”
“Okay, Wilder Kane, then I need to ask you a question and I want the answer to be yes.”
He pulled her little toe. “Sure, as long as it’s not a proposal.”
She jerked. “That’s not what I was going to ask, but hang on. Are you saying you don’t want to make an honest woman out of me? Grandma Kane might have words to say on that subject.”
“It means that I’m going to be asking you, but I want to do the asking. I’m old-fashioned like that.”
Uncontrollable heat coursed through her abdomen. He was seriously considering spending his life with her? “Are you going to expect me barefoot in the kitchen?”
“No, unless you’re frying us up some pork chops and the rest of you is bare too.”
She giggled. “We’ll see if that can be arranged.”
“Because I’d have to hit it before we got to the meal.”
She pointed at her frames. “Can’t hit a girl with glasses.”
“Really? What if she looks really fucking sexy in glasses?”
“I guess there’s an exception to every rule.” She cleared her throat. “Now let’s be serious.”
“Okay.” His face lost its teasing humor.
She nibbled the corner of her lower lip.
“You look serious.”
“I am. Wilder Kane, do you solemnly swear that you’ll read with me in bed, every night, through sickness and in health?”
He gave a solemn nod. “I do.”
They grinned at each other as her phone rang. She glanced down and the screen read, “Brightwater Hospital.”
Chapter Twenty
WILDER KEPT HIS hands shoved in his pockets in the recreation room in the Mountain View Village’s Alzheimer’s Unit. This wing could only be entered with a code. Quinn was informed that her test results were in and she was set to meet with a doctor in an hour. She’d asked to come here first to see her dad.
Quinn hadn’t said much after the call, tried to put on a happy brave face, asking what he’d like for Christmas as they drove through the downtown. Every streetlight was adorned with a wreath, and in the square was a giant Christmas tree. The official lighting was set for tonight with the mayor doing the honors of hanging the traditional mistletoe. For the next few weeks, Brightwater couples would sneak under the bough and make out through the New Year.
Tonight he could be there kissing her, or they might be back huddled in his cabin, facing an uncertain future.
Quinn gripped her dad’s hand, staring blankly while he watched the DVD she’d brought over, Bill Murray’s Scrooged.
“I’m going to grab you a cup of tea,” Wilder said. Each second on the clock was torture for her.
Why hadn’t they just given her the results over the phone?
Better to deliver bad news in person?
He shook the fear away.
“That would be great, thanks.” She gave him a quick glance that twisted his gut. He hated that she looked worried for him, as if measuring how much he could withstand.
He limped down the hall, wishing for once he had his stick back. He could bear anything happening to himself, but for someone he loved to suffer? Who had that kind of strength?
“Dig deep, man,” he answered, bracing a hand on the wall, wiping his brow.
All the resident rooms had framed glass cases next to their doors. Inside were black and white photographs, war medals, figurines, and other family knickknacks. He paused and stared into one. The sepia-toned picture was of an attractive blonde and a smiling man cutting a cake. They stared at the camera with beaming faces, as if their future had nothing but happiness waiting for them. The next photo was a posed family photograph in front of the Hoover Dam; three little girls in smock dresses who all looked exactly like the woman. The next picture was more recent, at the Brightwater football field, a young blonde woman standing between her mother and grandmother, clearly the woman from the other two images, Mount Oh-Be-Joyful rising behind them.
A card said “Happy Birthday, #1 Grandma.”
Whoever this woman was, she’d had a good life, family who loved her. As he stepped forward to keep walking, he glanced into the room. An older woman, clearly the woman from the pictures, sat in a recliner, staring out the window.
He didn’t know why he did it, but his hand found its way to the door frame and he knocked.
She glanced over. “Hello,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’d wondered if you’d come in.”
Shit, she must have seen him lurking outside her room. He hoped he hadn’t scared her.
“Sorry to intrude, ma’am, I just wanted to say . . .” What? He was sorry? He hoped she knew how much she was loved. That who she used to be must live on in many people’s memories. “I wanted to say you have a fine-looking family.”
She laughed then, an infectious sound that made her sound like a mischievous young girl. “Of course we do, silly. But that’s because their daddy is a looker.” She winked before tipping back in her chair, rocking in a slow rhythmic pace. “Oh, Bill, we did have a good time, didn’t we?”
His throat grew tight. She thought he was someone else. Bill. Her husband probably. Damn it, coming in here was a mistake. He didn’t know if this Bill was even still alive. Probably not.
He glanced to the hallway. He could leave now and she wouldn’t know, would forget they ever spoke. Instead, he stepped closer and settled a hand on her thin, fragile shoulder. “We did indeed.”
She nodded with satisfaction, gazing up at him, her eyes a mist of tears. “Life’s a beautiful thing.” She gave a little yawn before turning to look out the window again. “You always loved the snow, dear.”
He stood silently as her rocking grew slower and her eyes fluttered closed, her chest rising and falling in the natural rhythm of sleep.
For the next few minutes, even when it was clear she had dozed off, Wilder didn’t move, only continued to watch the snow falling outside, dusting the parking lot. He wasn’t able to form anything close to an articulate thought, only that if Quinn was to get the news she dreaded, he would do everything in his power to make sure that she always felt safe, cherished, and protected. The heat between them burned but he’d never let it go out. He didn’t care about anything else—having kids, protecting his heart—if it meant he couldn’t be with her.