32. Declan
Declan
When I was young, I admired clever people.
Now that I am old, I admire kind people.
~ Abraham Joshua Heschel
Sycamore Assisted Living is decorated from top to bottom in holiday decor. Winona leads the way into the center and I follow behind her. It’s not the first time I’ve been here. The guys and I come out for special events.
Winona is the real celebrity here today, though. Everyone calls her name. People get off their chairs or wheel their wheelchairs over to greet her. She has a smile and a hug for each person.
Ginny Holmes and Wilma Chesterton linger, one wearing a Santa hat, the other a necklace of blinking holiday bulbs.
They glance between Winona and me.
“So, forgive me for asking,” Ginny says. “But you two … are you sweethearts?”
Wilma says, “Now, don’t go acting innocent, Ginny. You’re being nosy, plain and simple.” Wilma turns to me and Winona. “Don’t mind her.” She pauses and then she asks, “But … are you?”
Winona laughs and then she says, “Yes. Declan and I are dating.”
“Oh, well,” Ginny says. “I’ll be.”
Wilma looks at me and says, “You know you caught a good one here, Declan. She’s a catch.”
Ginny nods effusively, her white curls sprayed so firmly they don’t even budge. “Winona’s what we used to call the bee’s knees. Don’t quite know why we said that, but it’s what we said.”
“Yep,” Wilma agrees. “Cat’s pajamas. That’s another one. Who thought up these sayings, I’ll never know.”
A few other residents gather around us.
I tell Wilma and Ginny, “Meeting Winona’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“You don’t have to tell us,” Harold McKinney says. “She’s a local treasure. Only certain young people come around here at all, let alone with regularity. Winona doesn’t skip a week. Though, she took my money in blackjack last week.”
Winona comes here every week?
How did I not know that?
I knew she had some odd jobs she did for some of the seniors at times.
Is this what life with her will be like? Constantly discovering places where she’s sprinkling sunshine without any fanfare?
I stare at her.
She looks up at me and says, “What?”
“Speaking of blackjack,” Harold says. “Do you have time to stick around for some cards?”
“We’ve got time,” I say.
“I hope you brought cash,” Harold says.
“I think he’s good for it,” Wilma says as we follow the group into the activity room.
We spend a few hours playing cards at the senior center, then I take Winona out to lunch.
On our way back to my house, Winona asks me, “Did you mean that?”
“Mean what?”
“What you told Wilma and Ginny? About meeting me?”
I lay my hand on her knee. “I definitely meant it. You saved me from spiraling when my season ended. But it’s so much more than that. You brought light into my life.”
I give her knee a squeeze. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she says, smiling over at me.
Winona has jobs all afternoon, so she drops me off. It’s close to dinnertime when she calls me.
“Declan?” Her voice sounds breathy and rushed.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“There’s a man. He’s across from our house. He has a camera. It’s not a big deal, but he did take pictures of me going into my home.”
“That’s a big deal, Winona. It’s called doxing if your address is leaked. You don’t need this.”
“It did shake me up at first. I’m okay, though. I mean, what’s he going to do with photos of me getting out of my car and walking into my house? It’s not like I was committing a crime. I was coming home from work.”
She doesn’t sound okay. She sounds rattled. And who would blame her?
“I’ll call Kate,” I say. “Do you want me to come over?”
“No. You need to rest your leg.”
“I can rest it at your place as well as I can rest it anywhere.”
“I don’t want to think about this,” she says.
“We can just be together. We don’t have to think about photographers or social media.”
Do I sound desperate? I just want to comfort and protect her. But I’m the cause of her pain. How can the man who brought this mess to her front door be the one to help her through it?
“I’d love to see you,” she says. “I don’t know if that guy is still out there.”
“I’ll wear a ball cap and a hoodie.”
“Yeah. That will totally hide your massive frame. No one will be the wiser.” She laughs softly.
“I’m visiting my girlfriend. So sue me.”
“Okay,” she says. “Did you eat?”
“Not yet. Want me to bring some meals?”
“No. I’ll cook. I’ve got chili and cornbread and salad.”
“I’m calling a driver. I’ll be there in a bit.”
“I can come get you, Declan.”
“No. Stay put. I’ll come to you.”
I call Kate on my way to Winona’s. She tells me the same thing. Ignore. Don’t respond. Don’t provoke. Don’t read or answer the comments. I feel so powerless—it’s a feeling I’m not used to. I hate it. My body practically buzzes with the need to do something.
When I get to Winona’s, I look around. There’s no sign of the paparazzi or whoever the guy was. I get out of the car and head to her door. Winona lets me in and collapses into my arms.
I hold her, smoothing my hand down her hair.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m good,” she says. “Better now. It’s just photos. Next time I might make faces. You know? Like this?” She hooks her fingers in either side of her mouth and stretches it wide, crossing her eyes. “I bet they aren’t used to your girlfriends doing that.”
“You’d be the first,” I say, chuckling. “And I haven’t had girlfriends. I’ve dated very few women. I had the occasional date for an event. Ginger. That’s it. And then you came along.”
“Like a wrecking ball,” she teases.
I lean in and place a soft kiss on her lips. “You came in like sunshine.”
I’m the wrecking ball in this scenario.
After dinner, I call the car to pick me up. Winona offers to drive me, and I tell her I want her to relax. Truth is, I don’t want her out and about where people might take more photos to use against us.
The next morning, I wake to my phone ringing. It’s Kate.
“Hey,” I say, rubbing my eyes and sitting up.
“They went further,” she says. “I just want you to know.”
“Further how?” I ask, already knowing who the they is—the media and the social media trolls.
“The latest posts are all calling her Plain Jane.”
“Okay.” I don’t love that—at all—but it’s not horrible. We already had the insinuation that she’s with me for my money. That’s more of the same.
“And … they found out about her business. Winona for Hire.”
I grind my teeth hard enough that I could crack one. Something about Winona’s business feels even more private than someone photographing her at her house. She built Winona for Hire. It’s so her—diverse, caring, jumping in where she’s needed, bringing something special wherever she goes.
“The media is having a field day with this. Social media is worse. I’m sending you a post right now.”
My phone pings. I click the link.
A woman’s sitting on her bed with a photo of Winona on the screen.
“She’s for hire, folks. Odd jobs. Whatever.
” She wags her brows and laughs. “Did Declan O’Connell hire her?
And what does superstar tight end, Declan O’Connell, see in this plain-Jane nurse’s aide?
Women are lining up to hear his answer … and to take her place.”
I practically growl.
“I wouldn’t normally flag things for you to see, but it’s worse if you’re blindsided. You’ll be asked about this. It’s my job to get you into a headspace where you can face reporters without any reaction.”
I don’t say anything. My breath comes in ragged gulps.
I blow out one long breath so I can get a hold of myself.
“She doesn’t know about this yet,” I finally say.
“No. But you need to make her aware, Declan.”
“What should I do, Kate?”
“There’s not much you can do. Say, No comment, to any reporters. Keep your cool. This will pass.”
Yeah. It will pass—like a tornado that tears through homes, leaving wreckage in its wake. And then what? Another tornado season comes the following year. Winona will always be in the path of the storm as long as she’s in my world.