Lukas
The smell of freshly mopped floors and cleaner fills my nose as soon as I open the door to the rehab center.
The lobby is fairly quiet, nothing going on but a few of the residents sitting around.
Some working through a puzzle book, others sitting idly by, watching the birds flutter around the outside feeder.
The receptionist at the front desk smiles up at me once I’m within reach, and I nod back, reaching for the pen and clipboard to add my name to the visitors list. “I’m here to see Margie Banks. How’s she been doin’?”
“Great, as far as I know!” the receptionist chirps.
She pushes her chair back, letting it roll away from her as she reaches for a large maroon folder that sits at the top of a stack.
She drops it onto the table in front of her, then pulls out the second one, not even bothering to look back at me.
“She should be in her room now. She usually asks to go back there immediately after lunch.”
Sounds like Nana. “Thanks, ma’am.” I nod, tapping the top of the desk before turning away.
I make my way down the hall, trying to casually peek around in the other rooms to see if anything seems off.
I pass a few staff members in the hall, and they all turn to smile.
Everyone seems nice. Place seems clean. It doesn’t feel like there is much to worry about, which eases some of the tension that’s gripping my shoulders.
It isn’t long before I spot the door to 104, only partway open. Open enough so staff can peek in and check on her, but not open enough that any unwanted visitors would feel welcome stepping in.
Bringing my knuckles up, I rap them against the wood, not waiting for a response before entering the room. “How’s my favorite girl?”
Nana looks up from the newspaper she's been reading. She’s propped up in bed, with two pillows behind her back to keep her straight, elbows resting at her sides, looking pretty darn comfortable, if I might say so.
“Lukas,” she says with a smile. Her eyes flick up to the clock. “You’re early.”
I look up at the same clock. “Guess so.” But when has Nana cared if I’m eight minutes early?
I spy the water jug sitting on her side table, the condensation droplets visible from the doorway.
Stepping into the room, I reach for it, not surprised to find it ice cold to the touch and heavy.
I lift it up and swirl it gently, hearing the ice rattle around inside.
“I see someone got you fresh ice water. Did you finally say something?”
She folds the newspaper and sets it on the table, pulling off her reading glasses and tossing them on top. “Taste it.” She gestures to the jug in my hand. “Wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be toilet water.”
“Nana.” I chuckle, lifting the jug to my lips for a sniff. I pop the lid, and when I don’t see anything disgusting floating around, I bring it to my lips for a sip. It’s cold. Crisp. Delicious. “Tastes like all of the water in Copper Ridge.”
I set the jug back down for her, and she reaches up, pushing it back toward me with the tip of her finger.
“No, I need you to do me a favor.” She juts a thumb out, pointing behind her.
“When you leave the room, take a right. All the way down the end of that corridor, you’re going to take another right, and at the end of that hall, there's a drinking fountain. That's where I want my water from. And fresh ice, while you’re at it. You’ll have to ask one of the girls for that. ”
She must notice the dumbfounded look on my face, and when I stare down at the jug on the table then back to her, I cock my head. “You serious, Nana? This is fine water.”
She cocks her head at me. “Do I look serious, Lukas?”
I shake my head at her, knowing that we could go back and forth over this water for days, and I’d still end up getting her what she wants.
Taking a few steps closer to the side of the bed, Nana offers me her cheek, and I press a soft kiss on it.
“Anything for you, Nana.” I turn to leave, and right before I exit, she hollers after me.
“Remember, all the way down the hall!”
With her still-full water jug in one hand, I wave to her with the other, chuckling under my breath as I turn toward the right, moseying down the hallway. I’m about three rooms down when I come to a T in the hall, and I take another right, running into one of the last people I expected to see today.
“Dean?”
Dean turns, and his brows pull together as if he’s just as surprised as I am to see him standing there.
“Lukas, hey.” He looks behind me to see if there is anyone else with me, and my gaze falls to the bouquet of fresh flowers in his hands.
He’s dressed in a pair of jeans and worn work boots, but he’s wearing a crisp button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and the tattoos that cover his forearms and the back of his hands on display.
His gait shifts, and he looks at the door of the room beside us. “My, uh … my mom’s here. Lives here. They’re just getting her changed real quick.”
“Oh…” I’m slightly taken aback, and the guilt starts to seep in with how little I know Dean. Even though he has been working with Theo at the department for a few years and filling in on the farm for a couple months, he’s quiet and often keeps to himself.
My mom has tried to invite him to the main house for lunch and has asked him to Sunday dinner more times than I can count. Theo and Grayson have tossed out the offer as well, but he always seems to find a reason he can’t stay.
“I’m just going to get some fresh water.” I raise the water jug, the contents practically sloshing over the side. “Don’t ask why. Just know it’s the request of a family friend. A friend of mine, I guess.”
He nods in understanding.
“I think it was just an excuse to get me down here for a visit, even though she really didn’t need one.”
He smiles at that, just as the door to the room by his elbow swings open. Two of the caregivers step out; one of them is holding a plastic bag that looks like dirty sheets and blankets.
“She’s all set, Dean.” The older woman reaches out to squeeze his forearm. “She’s having a really good day today, too. She’s excited to see you.”
His face lights up at that, more than I have ever seen it, and I want to ask more questions about him.
I want to know why his mom lives here and what other family he has, but he’s already twisting to peek into the room, waving at someone in the bed.
“I’ll see you around this weekend?” he says to me, and I nod.
“Absolutely. And hey…” I lower my voice a little but keep it light. “I know you've been dodging family dinners at our house, and I get it. You’re probably sick of us all by the time Sunday evening rolls around, but you should really think about staying this weekend.”
He’s already shaking his head no. “Your mom’s just inviting me because she feels obligated.”
“No, she’s not. She’s inviting you because she considers you a part of our farm, a part of our family.
You're working with us; you're helping us out.
We all get together on Sunday to unwind.
It's just a way that she shows appreciation, and she likes taking care of people.” I pause, seeing if he will agree.
“It would really mean a lot, man, just think about it.
This Sunday after your shift, just come on into the main house.
And we'll all be there, okay?” I can see him mull it over, nodding slightly.
“Thanks, man, I’ll think about it.” He reaches out his hand for me to shake, and I clasp it, shaking once before venturing back down the hall toward the right water fountain.
Once I’ve secured the water and ignored the looks from the staff when I asked them to dump the full jug and refill it with ice, I venture back toward Nana’s room, noticing the door to Dean’s mom’s room is closed.
Once Nana’s room comes back into view, I rest the jug on my open palm, balancing it, ready to present it to her like the crown jewels.
“All right, your highness,” I call out once I step over the threshold, vision laser focused on the water jug, so I don’t drop it and make a cocky mess.
“I have traipsed throughout the building, fought dragons and knights to bring you nature’s finest beverage.
You’d never belie—” my words are cut off when I realize there’s a staff member standing at the foot of the bed.
No, not a staff member…
Someone who I have dreamed about every day and night for the last few years. Someone I have hoped and prayed, offered up everything under the sun to the Gods, that one day I’d get to see again.
My breath stills. My heartbeat nearly hitching in my chest. Something gives way, it’s a full body shock, and my leg starts to buckle. I grab on to the dresser that’s against the wall, practically slamming the water jug onto it before gripping the edge with both hands to keep from falling.
There’s no way this is real. Maybe the original water was toilet water, and I’m lying in a hospital bed somewhere, delirious from a severe case of giardia.
She turns to face me, her head moving first, long blonde hair falling across her shoulder as she does.
Her mocha eyes widen and bottom lip pops open as if I’m the last person she’d ever expect to be standing in the doorway.
Her eyes lock on mine, and I watch as her tear-filled gaze goes from complete and utter shock, to disbelief, to something that looks a hell of a lot like longing.
I realize at this moment that Magnolia has always been trapped in my mind the way she looked the last time I saw her.
When I took her out to my parents’ field and stripped her out of her clothes so I could make love to her in the grass.
We laid there for hours, and I traced the lines of her skin, feeling the warmth of her under my palm.
But the woman looking back at me has changed. Her long blonde hair falls in loose waves down her back. There are some shorter pieces around her face, framing her high cheek bones, making her look older, yet softer. She’s somehow more beautiful than my imagination let me remember.
“Hey, Mags.”