Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Maple
I’m still worried about Grandma Gracie, but spending time with her in the cabin yesterday gave me something I hadn’t even known I was missing until it was right in front of me. I missed her. I missed the cabin. I missed this cute little town in the summer. Being back here makes me feel like I somehow belong again.
Holt’s back at work today, the head nurse barking instructions at him like she’s the boss and not him. I get a bit annoyed on his behalf, but then bite my tongue when she slips him a pair of glasses as he squints at a chart. It’s kind of cute how she takes care of him. I’m glad he has good people around him. He’s always around people, which is the opposite of my job. I see mostly furry friends through my computer screen.
Speaking of which, I’m almost late to my first virtual appointment when I head to Grandma’s condo and catch her trying to knock something out of an upper cabinet in the kitchen with her cane. I get it for her, only lifting an eyebrow when I see it’s a chocolate bar. This is how she got into this mess in the first place.
She smiles and snatches the chocolate from my hand, grumbling about breakfast of champions. She heads back to her bedroom while I set up my laptop on the coffee table in the living room. I work until lunchtime when I sign off the computer and get Grandma ready for the day. She insists on doing her own makeup, which means her eyebrows are painted on halfway to her hairline. She does let me push her in the wheelchair though, saying she’ll start using her walker tomorrow.
“Hey, Grandma? Do you remember a Hank living in Anchor Lake?” I ask as I push her down the long hallway to the recreation center where they serve lunch. The rubber wheels on the wheelchair squeak on the clean floors.
“Oh! He was such a sweet boy. All those dogwoods…”
My heart starts to beat faster. “What was his last name?”
“Whose name?” Grandma answers after a long beat of silence.
“Hank’s.” I hold my breath and then let it out in a disappointed sigh when Grandma gets confused.
“That’s not your fiancé’s name!” she cries, sounding agitated.
I pat her shoulder and push the wheelchair a little faster. I see some of her friends up ahead. “You’re right, Grandma.”
The doctor said not to get her upset and I’ll be damned if I impede her recovery just because I’m curious who this Hank character is from her past. I already went through the yearbook between appointments this morning and didn’t see a Hank listed anywhere. I feel like Grandma might be the only one who remembers him and yet the cruel state of her mind is robbing her memory of him. At this rate, I might never find out who Hank is.
“Did you decide if you’ll make your chili recipe, Gracie?” Pat asks as soon as I get Grandma settled at a table. Pat has dark brown hair that sees a bottle of dye and curlers on a regular basis. Her pantsuits always match and her tennis shoes are bright white.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Grandma replies. “I might see if Maple can help me.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Nancy leans over, diamonds flashing on her fingers. Where Pat leans into comfort clothes, Nancy goes for sophisticated style. “The chili contest this next Tuesday! Everyone’s participating! Did you see what the grand prize is?”
“A day on the lake!” Pat blurts out, too excited to hold it in.
Nancy glares at her, then leans in, dropping her voice to a whisper. “And that hunky Holt McGrath will be there.”
Grandma cackles with the ladies. I decide I could use a restroom run before I try to eat the mashed potatoes on the menu for today. The meatloaf is a definite no.
“Grandma, where’s the bathroom?”
She points to the door we came in through. “Down the hallway, on your left, honey.” She goes back to chatting with the ladies while I get up and dutifully head down the hallway.
Every door here looks the same. I don’t know how these retirees tell them apart. I get to what I think is the right door and pull it open. It’s pitch black, so I take a step in, looking for the light switch. I don’t find it before a broad chest rams into the back of me. I stumble forward and barely catch myself. I hear the door slam behind the person as I right myself.
“Hello?” I still can’t see my own hand, let alone the mystery person.
“Maple?”
I whoosh out a deep breath of air when I recognize that deep tone. “Holt! Where are we?”
The lights flicker on, and I blink to let my eyes adjust. I look around, realizing I’m in a supply closet, not a bathroom. Then my gaze snags on Holt. I forget to breathe. The man looks like a lighter-haired Clark Kent in his thick black glasses. Suddenly, there’s not a lot of space in here. If I move at all, I’ll brush up against him, which suddenly sounds like a fine idea.
“I, uh, was, uh…” Great. I’ve forgotten how to speak.
Holt’s lips hitch up on one side. “Thought you’d see if we have enough blankets and bandages?”
I nod. “Yeah, you know, you can never be too on it with inventory. You know what they say: fail to prepare, prepare to fail. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout.” I give him the salute, complete with four fingers.
He full-on smiles now, which makes my insides turn over. His light eyes appear more blue today, matching his scrubs. “Do we pass muster? Or is it pass the mustard? That phrase always confuses me.”
“Pretty sure there’s no mustard in here. I was actually looking for the bathroom.”
Holt hooks his arm around my waist, his huge hand warming my lower back as he shifts. I inhale sharply, getting that scent of his I love so much. We awkwardly switch places in the closet and he goes to twist the door handle behind me. His face transforms into a frown.
“Shit.”
“What?” That came out a little too breathy. It’s just he’s leaning over me and I can smell his soap and cologne and I like it a little too much.
“The door’s locked.”
My eyes go wide. Panic replaces the sexual need in an instant. “What?”
Holt’s gaze comes back to me. He plants both hands on my hips and drills his gorgeous eyes into me as he leans down the slightest bit. “Don’t panic. Debbie will come looking for me in a matter of minutes.”
The air starts feeling like it’s being sucked out of the room. Even my head feels a little dizzy. Holt must see the panic because he peels his hands off my hips and cups my face instead, making me focus on him.
“Hey, did you ever ask Gracie about Hank?”
He’s distracting me. I know it, and yet it still works. “Yeah. I did. But she just said he was a sweet boy and then mentioned dogwoods. And then she was confused who I was talking about. I didn’t get much.”
Holt nods, his thumb stroking across my cheek like a metronome. “There are more old-timers around town. We can start visiting them and asking the same question. Certainly he couldn’t have vanished into thin air, right?”
That flutter in my belly has more to do with Holt and his sweet gesture than panic now. “Maybe he got locked in a supply closet somewhere, never to be seen again.”
Holt smiles and it’s blinding. I find myself smiling back.
And that’s when the door swings open and I almost go tumbling backward. Holt’s hands fly off my face and the head nurse stands in the bright hallway with her hands on her hips.
“You’re supposed to be with Jimmy,” she says testily, eyeing us both.
My cheeks have flamed bright red, which isn’t helping us look innocent. Holt takes the lead, thankfully, his hand landing on my back again. “We got locked in here, Debbie. Can you ask maintenance to take a look?”
Debbie’s eyebrows wing up like she doesn’t believe a word he just said. But she nods, her pen flying over the stack of papers and patient records she holds in her arms. When she looks up again, she looks back and forth between us.
"What’s this I hear about you two being engaged?” Her question is loud enough I wonder if there’s an invisible microphone in front of her mouth.
A pretty redheaded nurse, pushing another retiree to the lunchroom in a wheelchair, nearly breaks her neck, craning her head to get a look at us. I do not miss the way she looks longingly at Holt before turning her murderous gaze to me.
“My grandma. She’s confused. She thought Holt was my fiancé. The doctor said not to rile her up, so we just went with it.” I rush to get the words out, wanting to set the record straight before either Debbie or the pretty redhead rough me up in the parking lot.
Holt, however, does not feel the need to set the record straight. “This is Maple Thatcher, and for the next few months—or until Gracie’s deemed stable—she’s my fiancée.” He says it so sternly my nipples tingle.
Debbie studies us both, then shrugs. “Whatever floats your boat. Jimmy’s waiting.”
Holt insists on helping me into the Jeep and closing my door for me when we leave Sunny Shores. While Dexter wasn’t much for gentlemanly gestures, I’m just now realizing how much I love them.
“How about we work off the day with a quick hike on the east side of the lake before I make you dinner?” Holt suggests, starting the engine and heading for home.
For the cabin, rather. Not home.
“Sure. And then some yoga after?” Holt grimaces, which makes me laugh. “Why are you so anti-yoga?”
“I’m not anti-yoga, it’s just too slow for me.” Holt’s thumb taps the steering wheel. “I, uh, have ADHD. My brain doesn’t like sitting still for long.”
My chest warms, knowing he trusts me enough to talk about it. “My friend Angie has it too. She’s a yoga instructor though. She mostly focuses on the really physical types of yoga. Says it calms her mind and gets her out of her brain.”
Holt tilts his head, then makes a left onto Anchor Lake Estate Road, the street that winds around the entirety of the lake and hosts some stunning estates and cabins.
“Hmm. That’s why I work out and eat right. I mean, I’ve always been into health and fitness, but I learned that taking care of my physical body helps my symptoms. Maybe I’ve just tried the wrong forms of yoga.”
I shrug a shoulder up and down. “It’s possible. Or you may just not like yoga. Not everyone does and that’s okay. Have you always had ADHD?”
Holt pulls up the long dirt driveway to the cabin. “I think so. I didn’t get diagnosed until middle of college though. I tried some of the meds but the side effects were too much. I’m mostly just handling things with lifestyle and therapy.”
I nod, getting out of the car. “That’s very progressive of you.”
He grins and joins me at the hood of the car to walk inside. “What? Because I’m a man? Men can go to therapy too.”
“I wholeheartedly agree.”
Mookie’s nails click across the wood floor, racing to get to us as we step up to the front door of the cabin. Holt opens the door and she launches herself at our ankles, tail wagging a million miles a minute.
“Hey, sweet girl. Who’s ready for a hike?”
Mookie must know that word because she goes positively frantic, turning in circles and peeing a little bit. Holt just laughs and goes to get something to clean it up, calling over his shoulder, “Go get dressed and after our hike I’ll make you my famous grilled chicken and asparagus.”
I grimace. I’m mostly a take-out girl, leaning toward vegetarianism when I’m home, but not strict about it. I never met a carbohydrate I didn’t like and think tofu is the most underrated food out there. “Okay.”
When I come out of the bathroom in a sports bra, T-shirt, workout shorts, and hiking boots, Holt is waiting at the door with Mookie in her harness and a hiking belt around his trim waist with two water bottles. But he doesn’t have a shirt on. Jesus. I guess if I looked that good without a shirt, I wouldn’t want to wear one either.
“Ready, moonbeam?”
I paste on a smile and refuse to count his six-pack abs or trace the line of veins that start at his chest and go all the way down into his fingers. Whoops. Too late. “Yep.”
We cross the street and head for the trailhead just down a few houses. He leads the way, which is unfortunate for me. His ass is a thing to behold in workout shorts, mostly because it’s round and athletic and a fucking machine as the incline gets steep almost immediately.
“So, how do you like your job? You’re the head physical therapist at Sunny Shores?” I have to pant to catch my breath after I complete my questions. Yoga is great, but it’s not cardio.
“Yeah, I came back to Anchor Lake not long after my sister got married. Sunny Shores was looking to fill a head therapist position and I applied.”
I thought back to the way all the nurses seem to look to him for direction. Seems like the owner or director or whomever is a bit absent. “Who owns Sunny Shores?”
Holt glances back, slowing his pace, probably because my cheeks are beet red and I’m out of breath. “I do.”
My head whips up, and I stop in my tracks. “You own it?”
Holt looks embarrassed. He shrugs like it’s not a big deal he owns a retirement community that spans twenty acres and houses several hundred retirees requiring all levels of care. The place is like a high-end, geriatric resort on steroids.
“Holt, that’s…incredible.”
“Thanks.” He scrubs the back of his neck, his arm muscles bulging. Mookie tugs at the leash but he ignores her, handing me one of the water bottles off his hiking belt instead. “I have quite a few staff members that help me run it. I still like to get my hands dirty with the therapy though. That’s my true love.”
I nod, gulping back some water. Now I feel even more foolish telling him that I’m a glorified pet shrink. He must think I’m a joke.
He waits for me to hand him back the water, not at all in a hurry to keep going, which I appreciate. “You good?”
I nod. “Yep. I was wondering why you were going so slow.”
His mouth twitches before he turns back around and keeps going up the trail. My legs start to burn almost as much as my lungs. Shit, even the tiny dog is hiking faster than me. We finally get to a clearing. Holt grinds to a halt and tries to hand me the water again. I’m panting so hard, bent over with my hands on my knees, I don’t even see the view. Holt has to come back over and help me upright, his arm around my waist and holding most of my weight. My legs cheer.
“Oh my God,” I finally breathe, seeing the entirety of Anchor Lake spread out before me. I can see all the shops dotting Main Street on the northeast side of the lake, along with houses and cabins and docks as far as the eye can see. Pine trees form a ring around the lake, creating a private feel that can’t be beat. The sun is just starting to set in the west, painting the whole town in golden tones.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” Holt asks reverently. I turn my head and see he’s looking at me, waiting for my answer.
“Worth the torture,” I agree.
He grins and holds me tighter around the waist. “You know, Macy would never go hiking with me when we lived in Atlanta. Said she preferred a gym, not just randomly heading out into nature. Something about the wilderness freaked her out. I felt the opposite. Being in nature always calmed me. Made me feel like I was part of something bigger and better. But maybe that’s just the ADHD talking.”
I want to say something witty and quote worthy to match the view and the moment, but all that comes out is vitriol. “Your ADHD is part of what makes you you. And Macy is a fucking idiot.”
Holt tosses his head back and laughs.
Maple’s Journal - Year 18
(14 years ago)
Graduation was today.
Mom said my dress was too short. Dad added helpfully that if I’d just applied myself a bit more, I could have been valedictorian. Toby told me not to get drunk at the graduation party tonight. As if I’d ever do that. My idea of a party is sipping a wine cooler by the lake with my small circle of friends and laughing over all the popular kids at school who peaked too soon.
Whether I wanted them to or not, the whole family showed up. Even Grandma Gracie. Gosh, I’ve missed her so much. She looked the same as usual, if a bit slower and a few more wrinkles added to her face. Dad seemed annoyed that he had to slow down for her while walking to the football field for the ceremony. I linked my arm through hers and proudly walked in with my favorite family member.
The actual ceremony was boring with a capital B! Jake Volsky flashed his bare chest painted Carolina blue. Candace tossed her hair so much she knocked off Dr. Randall’s hat when he tried to shake her hand. As for me, I grabbed my diploma and got the heck off the stage. Contrary to what Dad said, I was lucky to just graduate. I hate school!
The only bright side to an otherwise lame day was Grandma Gracie inviting me to her house again this summer. Dad cut her off and said I had a summer internship at his law office, but I have every intention of ditching that idea and heading to Anchor Lake. Grandma Gracie told Dad to shove his law tomes where the sun don’t shine. And that’s a direct quote!
You should have seen Dad’s face! Priceless!
I don’t know what my future holds, but it’s not endless days in pencil skirts poring over law books. And it’s not college with idiots like Jake Volsky who only got in because he can throw a football. I hope I figure it out soon though because Mom and Dad are breathing down my neck to choose a career like Toby did straight out of high school.
Grandma Gracie didn’t hassle me about my future though. She just slipped me a six-pack of Four Lokos as I headed out to my friend’s house for a chill graduation party and sleepover. God, I love her…