“I haven’t decided yet,” he said, looking back up at the TV dismissively. “Does it matter?”
She took so long to answer, he shifted his face to look up at her. She was watching him, her face thoughtful, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. His eyes zoned in on her mouth like a beacon, and his body unexpectedly tightened.
“No,” she finally said, shaking her head. “Not to me.”
Without another word, she walked to the tack room door and slammed it shut behind her.
Chapter 26
Damn Cain anyway, she thought, pulling into a parking space at the Silver Springs Care Center and cutting the engine of her SUV. He had arrived bright and early to work on her fence, and of course her mind had immediately segued back to three years ago, when she’d woken up to find him washing Gran’s truck. A flood of memories had engulfed her—his smile when she’d said “Hey!” from her bedroom window, the way he’d caught her gaping at him from the kitchen as she made them eggs, how they’d gone riding afterward, how she’d fallen even more in love with him.
On the one hand, it felt warm and innocent to remember those fleeting, golden days with Cain—her heart had been so full and hopeful that she and Cain might finally find their way to each other. But on the other hand, it made her heart twist with pain, with embarrassment and regret. The following day she’d declared her feelings to Cain and been ripped to shreds for her honesty. And to console herself, she’d made the abrupt, impulsive decision to be with . . . to offer her body to . . .
Her heart started racing, and she jerked the rearview mirror to look at her face.
He’s just away. He’s just away.
“He’s just away,” she whispered, wetting her lips and blinking her eyes against an unexpected burn.
She’d noticed over the past couple of days that it was becoming harder and harder to block out her memories of Woodman and trick herself into believing that he was only temporarily gone. She never allowed herself to think of him as gone forever—never—but as she spent more time with Cain and her heart came back to life little by little, it was more difficult to stay cold about Woodman’s loss. She felt a growing pressure to confront it—to put a name to it and deal with it. Like water behind a dam, the pressure was growing and growing, and someday the dam wasn’t going to be able to handle the volume anymore. The high walls would eventually crumble. The floodgates would open. And Ginger would have to come face to face with what had happened to Woodman, and the myriad complicated feelings that accompanied the reality of his loss.
“Not today,” she said softly in the quiet of her car. “Not yet. For now . . . he’s just away.”
Lifting her chin, she grabbed her purse and headed into the care center, where she signed in at the front desk. As she headed for the elevator, she heard someone yell, “Hold it!” and she just managed to keep the doors open for Nurse Ratch—Arklett—to rush inside.
“Miss McHuid,” she said politely, offering Ginger a tight smile. “Good morning. Here to see your grandmother?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Ginger, giving the starched, white-haired lady a small smile.
Nurse Arklett opened her mouth as though to ask Ginger something, then said, “No. I don’t suppose . . . no.”
“I’m sorry?” asked Ginger.
“Miss McHuid, this goes against everythin’ I teach my girls here—fraternizin’ with the visitors—but I am in dire straits. We are losin’ four nurses come New Year’s, and I just haven’t had time to replace them yet.”
“Four at once? Why so many?”
Nurse Arklett huffed through her nose. “New retirement center just opened in Paris. State-of-the-art. Hirin’ anyone with an RN degree.”
“Ahhh,” said Ginger. “Well, no one runs as tight a ship as you, ma’am. I learned more from you durin’ my trainin’ and employment here than, well, than I learned durin’ all three years at nursin’ school. They’d be silly to leave you.”
“Miss McHuid,” said Nurse Arklett, following Ginger out of the elevator on the fourth floor, “I don’t suppose you’d consider comin’ back in January? Three or four days a week? Until I can hire a few new nurses and train them?”
“Come back here to work?”
The older woman winced and shook her head. “No, I guess not. I’m terribly sorry I bothered you. Regards to your—”
“Wait! Yes!”
“What?”
“Yes, ma’am. Yes, I’ll come back to work. Three weekdays and every other Sunday sound okay?”
“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays?”
“That sounds fine. I can start on January second.”
Nurse Arklett smiled. “I’d be so grateful. Nine a.m. on January second, Nurse McHuid. In scrubs. Ready to work.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be here.”
“Stop by HR on your way out today. I’ll tell them to expect you.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Her boss nodded crisply, then headed quickly down the hallway to parts unknown. Ginger waved to Teresa, a nurse she knew, at the fourth-floor nurses’ station.
“Hey, Gin— I’m sorry. Hello, Miss McHuid.”