His Only Wife. Cathy Mcdavid
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“That’s no reason for me oversleeping.” Aubrey positioned the wheelchair by the side of the bed, then helped her grandmother to a sitting position. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Over the next thirty minutes Aubrey saw to her grandmother’s needs, getting her bathed and dressed and otherwise ready to face the day. When they were done, she wheeled her grandmother to the kitchen and got her situated comfortably at the table. It still shocked Aubrey to see how small and frail her grandmother had become. When she’d arrived yesterday and glimpsed the older woman napping in a recliner, only the presence of Mrs. Payne, the neighbor, had kept Aubrey from crying out in alarm.
“What do you feel like eating this morning?” Aubrey asked as she made a pot of coffee.
Like the bedroom she and her sister had shared, there were no significant changes in the kitchen’s decor, either. Coffee was stored in the second largest of four ceramic windmill canisters on the counter. The others held flour, tea bags and sugar, in that order.
“Just toast. And maybe some of that calcium-enriched orange juice,” her grandmother answered.
“Is that all?”
“I haven’t recovered my appetite since the accident.”
No wonder her grandmother had lost so much weight. Aubrey remembered the breakfasts served in this kitchen as being hearty enough to satisfy a crew of lumberjacks.
“Well, maybe we can fix that while I’m here.” She placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the table, then opened a cupboard where she knew she’d find a loaf of bread.
“I’m so glad you came, dear.” There was genuine pleasure in her grandmother’s voice, along with a hint of sorrow. “I’ll try not to be a burden.”
Aubrey went over to her grandmother and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t talk like that. You’re no burden whatsoever.”
“I suspect your father didn’t want you coming here. As far as son-in-laws go, he’s everything a mother could ask for. But he can be a little dictating at times.”
“A little?” Aubrey laughed and took the chair beside her grandmother.
Dictating did indeed describe Alexander Stuart. He was a man used to wielding authority. And though he meant well and loved his family dearly, he sometimes treated his wife and daughters like rookie interns who needed to be browbeaten into shape.
The first time Aubrey openly defied him had been the end of her freshman year at college. Unable to cope with the pressures and high expectations put on her, she’d escaped to Blue Ridge and married Gage.
It wasn’t the last time she defied him, either. And while her father had backed off over the years, he still attempted to sway her when he felt she was making a wrong decision.
Like now.
Alexander Stuart had preferred to hire a caregiver for his mother-in-law so that Aubrey could remain in Tucson and face her career crisis head-on. He disapproved of her “running off and hiding in Blue Ridge again” as he’d called it. But Aubrey didn’t tell her grandmother that.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” The older woman smiled warmly. “I’ve missed you.”
Aubrey covered her grandmother’s hand. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Sitting there in the homey kitchen she remembered so well, Aubrey was glad she’d returned to Blue Ridge. She wanted nothing to tarnish or otherwise ruin her stay. So, for her grandmother’s health and well-being and her own peace of mind, she’d learn to live—temporarily—in the same town with Gage.
She rose from the table, brimming with determination. “How about some eggs with that toast, Grandma?”
“Maybe one. Fried.” The smile tugging at her grandmother’s lips was conspiratorial. “I’m supposed to be watching my cholesterol.”
“One fried egg coming up. And we won’t tell your doctor I corrupted you.” Aubrey fixed an egg for herself, as well.
The two of them enjoyed a leisurely meal that started with a discussion of Grandma Rose’s care and diet and ended with an unexpected barrage of banging noises emanating from the front porch.
Aubrey put down her coffee mug and automatically stood. “What is that?”
“I have no idea.” Grandma Rose peered through the door-way leading into the living room.
At the sound of the front door opening, Aubrey hastily retied her knee-length robe, which suddenly felt tissue-paper-thin, then plucked her tousled hair. “Somebody’s here.” She’d forgotten what it was like living in a small town. Friends and neighbors frequently stopped by without phoning first and doorbells were for strangers.
“Morning,” Gage called from the living room. “Anybody home?”
Aubrey dropped back into her chair.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Grandma Rose called back, obviously delighted at the prospect of a visitor. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
Gage stopped in the doorway, smiling broadly. Rather than his cowboy hat, he wore a baseball cap, which he removed as he entered the room and bent down between the two women to plant a kiss on Grandma Rose’s cheek. “Mom already fed me. But I’ll take a cup of coffee if there’s extra.”
Grandma Rose tittered like a schoolgirl. “Why, of course there’s extra.”
He leaned toward Aubrey. She shied, momentarily alarmed he intended to kiss her cheek, too. But he just winked.
“Stay put,” he said. “I’ll get my own.”
Aubrey had every intention of staying put. Silly, she supposed. Gage had seen her wearing far less than pajamas and a thin robe during their marriage. Heck, the outfit she wore yesterday exposed more bare skin than this one. Her fingers gravitated toward the hem of the robe. The movement must have caught his eye, for he looked down, and his smile widened.
Damn him.
Her first instinct was to lower her head. She resisted and met his gaze head-on.
Like the previous day, heat crept up her neck, all the way to the tips of her ears. Still she stared. “Clean mugs are in the cupboard to the right of the sink,” she said.
“What brings you by this morning?” Grandma Rose asked. “And don’t tell me it’s the smell of brewing coffee.”
She appeared oblivious to Aubrey’s discomfort. The Rain-trees had always been friendly with her grandparents. Fortunately, Aubrey’s and Gage’s impulsive and short-lived marriage hadn’t affected that friendship. Given the two families’ long-standing history together, Gage was probably a frequent visitor to her grandmother’s house.
“I’m here to start work on the handicap renovations.”
“What?” Aubrey and her grandmother said in unison.
“You did advertise for a handyman?” Gage peered at them from over the brim of his mug, then took a sip of coffee. “I saw the notice posted on the bulletin board outside of Cutter’s.”
There were two markets, if one could call them markets, in Blue Ridge. Cutter’s was the larger of the two, not much more than a convenience store with a modest produce bin, while the town’s one and only gas pump could be found at the Stop and Go.
“I did,” Grandma Rose exclaimed. “But surely you can’t be answering the ad. When in the world would you have time, what with working at the ranch and all?”
Gage propped a hip on the edge of the counter in a casual stance that somehow managed to be sexy, too.
“Well, it’s not just me. We’re