Bound for Christmas Page 3

  The memory of Cathy Douglas’s smiling face appeared and faded before him. Rotating his shoulders, he attempted to fortify himself for what was to come. Moving further into the house he went to the first guest bedroom on the other side of the living room to see his father.

  “Son of a bitch, he’d actually gone and did it.”

  Evan stared at his father from the doorway, observing the man he’d looked up to in his childhood. When Evan was a young boy, his father hung the moon. An impressionable Evan that believed no one was stronger or braver than his father. It was the teenage Evan that soon realized that his father was unreasonable. The adult Evan quickly understood that James Douglas was narrow-minded and pigheaded about a lot of things.

  “Hello to you too, Dad.” Evan entered the room, but, stayed a few feet away from where his father lay in the hospital-style bed. The area that had once been a brightly light guest room with pastel colors and sheer curtains over large windows now looked sterile and cold. There was a hint of an odor in the air, stale and sick, denoting an unwashed body. The curtains his mother had made were replaced with dark thick drapes that blocked out the sunlight. In the sparse room there were only a tall chest of drawers and a table beside the bed with a binder, charts and an abundance of medication. The only familiar item was the television on the wall.

  “Look right there, Teresa. That before you is a weak coward of a man.” James spoke to the nurse who was fixing the cuff on his arm to take his blood pressure as he waved a gnarled and twisted finger towards Evan.

  Teresa placed the ear piece of the stethoscope in her ears as she glanced over at him. Evan could see the pity in the short redhead’s eyes. It was a look Evan was used to seeing on other people’s faces when it came to his father’s degradation of him. However, years ago Evan had learned to separate his father’s words and his own thoughts about himself. The military and war, and giving up his own life had dug that canyon for him.

  “Always the kind words.” Evan couldn’t help but feel a slight sadness in seeing his father transformed from the robust and solid man he had been. Now, it was clear to see how much grief and repeated strokes and bad health had ravaged his father, making James Douglas a shadow of his former self. “So, how is he doing?” He directed his question to the nurse standing beside the bed.

  “Mr. Douglas is doing better, but still needs to--”

  “Don’t ask her as if I’m a fucking mute invalid!”His father barked, his words slightly slurring as he shifted and wrestled against the bed struggling to raise himself up. “I may not be able to get myself to the bathroom to shit, but I can still speak for myself.”

  It was true; his father’s speech had only barely been altered by the two strokes that had attacked his body in the last year. However, Evan wanted to know the truth of his father’s health, not the bravado his dad would be spewing.

  “Then tell me, Dad, how is your health?”

  “Fine. Fuckin’ fine!” he pierced him with dual greenish-brown eyes that were no less intense. “So, you can just pick up your damn bags and get out of my house. I don’t need you here.”

  Teresa didn’t look at him this time, instead, Evan noticed the woman turned her back and began picking up and moving pill bottles as if she were taking an inventory count. Evan was pretty sure the woman already knew all the medications by heart. She was his dad’s around the clock nurse and lived in the second guest bedroom on the other side of the living room.

  “Well, whether you think so or not, Dad, you got me,” Evan declared.

  His father grumbled something under his breath and turned his head and stared at the far wall.

  “I’m going to put my things up and I’ll be back down shortly.” Evan looked at the nurse. “If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Thanks. We should be good at the moment.” She removed the cuff and set it to the side, annotating some notes in a binder beside his father’s bed.

  Turning, Evan went to collect his things by the front door and jogged up the steps to his old bedroom. Entering the room that had been his since he was ten years old and his family had moved into the house. Derek had just been seven. The only other room upstairs beside his and his brothers was the master bedroom that used to be his parents room.

  Looking around his room decorated in simple dark blue and gray with its full size bed and matching furniture, Evan thought about the last time he’d been in the room. His father had the first stroke and he’d come home for a month. However, after his brother’s death and after he’d joined the military he’d come home and he and his father had been closer than they had been in years. Before that he’d only seen his father twice a year; Christmas and Fourth of July weekend. Then he’d made the mistake of telling his father two years ago that he was getting out of the military when his enlistment was up this time. The thin camaraderie that had been between them for eight years shattered like a twig under a heavy foot.

  Evan shook his head, clearing it of thoughts he didn’t want to have at the moment. As he began unpacking, he considered the wisdom of returning to a house so full of ghosts and shadows. He wondered if he’d taken time in his life for a wife and kids if this situation would have been a little more bearable. Having someone besides Tre in his corner. His mother had been that person for him, but she’d passed from breast cancer the year before his senior year in high school. Cynthia Douglas had been sweet, with a caring heart and the cornerstone of the family. Before she passed she’d made him promise to follow his own dreams. Then he’d pushed her words and his vow away after Derek’s death.

  Closing the closet door, Evan walked out of the room passed his brother’s closed door and went downstairs, he needed air. A moment to breath, but duty called.

  Teresa was coming out of his father’s room and pulling the door closed.

  “How he doing?” He asked crossing the living room.

  “Okay, but his pressure keeps spiking, which isn’t good,” she said.

  “I’m sure my being here hasn’t helped.” Evan didn’t have to be told how much it probably angered his father that he was home.

  “Well, it’s not any higher than usual.”

  “I can sit with him while you run an errand or something?”

  “No need.” She headed to the couch and picked up a magazine that rested on the coffee table. “I’ve given him some meds and he’s resting now.”

  Evan glanced at his watch. Tre had invited him over for dinner and he hadn’t planned to go, but after being in the house and encountering his dad, Evan truly needed some space. “I’m going to run out for about an hour or so.”

  “Take your time, Mr. Douglas, your father usually sleeps for a bit in the evening.”

  “Would you like me to bring you something back?” Evan offered.

  “No, I’m good.” She curled her petite frame in the corner of the sofa and began flipping through the glossy pages.

  Teresa was an attractive woman, with her short bob accentuating her small face and large blue eyes. There wasn’t a ring on her finger signaling that she was married or engaged. He wondered how a woman spent most of her days trapped in a house with a sick man. Didn’t it wear on her? Something else Evan noticed was that even though Teresa was pretty there was no spark of interest for him towards her. Redheads had always been his thing. Not that he should be lusting after his dads nurse. The woman would be there to do a job.

  However, his mind couldn’t help comparing this woman with the sexy black lady from the airplane. He would have loved the opportunity to get to know her better. A chance to kiss her, even. But, he’d allowed the likelihood of that prospect to slip through his fingers. Had to. His dad and his new job were his priority.

  “If you change your mind, my cell phone is still the same and should be in my dad’s chart.”

  Glancing up for a moment, she gave him a kind smile. “We’ll be fine, Mr. Douglas.”

  “Evan please. One Mr. Douglas is all this household can take.” Evan knew that statement was true in many
ways.

  “See you later, Evan.”

  He waved and went to the hook by the garage door in the kitchen and grabbed the keys to his dad’s car. He’d sold his own car before leaving Texas. His dad owned a truck and a car that he couldn’t drive. Having three cars at the house would just be ridiculous.

  Once inside the car he called Tre on his cell. “Guess who’s coming to dinner?” he said, when his friend answered the phone.

  “I’ll see you when you get here.” Tre chuckled.

  Disconnecting the call, Evan fired up the engine and pressed the remote on the dash to open the garage door. If he and his father couldn’t find a way to live in peace it wouldn’t take long before Evan lost his mind. He was already looking forward to his first flight and being away from the older man.

  * * *

  “Home sweet, home.” Zoey closed the door to her apartment and leaned back against it. Dragged through an emotional roller coaster over the last week, she had never been so happy to be home before.

  Due to her job, she rarely had more than two days that she was home, but she loved her place and appreciated it more because of the limited time in it. Her schedule was normally from sixteen to eighteen hours a day, off at nights. However, this new client she’d had for over six months required around the clock care and she lived with him except her days off. Pushing away from the door, she headed to her room to deposit her suitcase on the bed. She would unpack it soon enough. Kicking off her heels, she headed back into the living room. Once there she went over to her answering machine, noted the red blinking light and pushed the play button. Not many people had her cell phone number, she didn’t like to be tracked down while she was working or having a million telemarketers blowing it up.

  In the kitchen that was off from the living room she pulled out items she would need for dinner as she listened to the messages. She enjoyed cooking, but just like her apartment, her job interfered with her being able to play around with different dishes in the kitchen often.

  Pulling out the drawer of fruit in the refrigerator she was happy to see that her mangos were still good. “Mango-orange chicken it is.”

  There was a call from two telemarketers wanting to sell her health insurance and one from an online college. Neither of those did she need nor did she apply for them. She wasn’t surprised to hear her Aunt Gertie’s voice come blaring out.

  “Zoey. This is Aunt Gertrude.”

  “Nooo…” Zoey laughed, pretending to be shocked as she stared through the opening at the answering machine on her desk.

  “Call me when you get in. We need to talk. Don’t make the wrong decision for your life. Zoey… Do you hear me? Call me. This is your aunt. Aunt Gertrude.”

  There was a pause as if her aunt was waiting for her to pick up the line, then a dial tone.

  Her aunt was definitely one of the people on the do not give cell number list. Hell, she was number one.

  The next message was from her aunt as well.

  “Zoey. This is Aunt Gertrude. I’ve been thinking. We didn’t get to spend a lot of time together while you were here. How about I come and visit you? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  “Frontal brain surgery without anesthesia would be nicer.” Zoey removed the chicken breast from the freezer, then pulled off the wrapper and placed her chicken in a bowl of water and heavy salt for a rapid thaw.

  The last message was from her co-worker telling her how cantankerous her client was while she was away. Zoey had to smile to herself, because not all people could deal with geriatric patients and especially not around the clock. Most of her friends worked with children and teens, finding them more agreeable. However, for Zoey she enjoyed the challenge of assisting someone who had lost part of their life through accidents or bad health and see them return to their former glory.

  Sadness enveloped her for a moment as she thought about the ones that didn’t make it. Unfortunately, in the demographic she cared for it happened way too often.

  Leaving the kitchen, she pressed the erase button to clear out the messages and then went to unpack her clothes while her meat defrosted. She’d need to send her mother a text and let her know she’d arrived home safe.

  Dressed in her favorite boxer shorts, Cam Newton football jersey and thick socks an hour and a half later, she was ready to relax. She found herself sitting on the couch with her fruity chicken, rice and green beans steaming on a plate and the remote in her hand. After being gone a week her recorded shows had doubled. Since normally she would watch her week of shows on her day off, but she didn’t have the time before she left.

  As she started the first show and began eating she noticed for the first time in a long time the feelings of loneliness that crept in. When she moved to North Carolina she’d felt the emotion immensely, an echo of her living in the empty house alone after Winston left her. But she’d gotten involved in the long hours of her job and rarely experienced the flowing tide of melancholy. She didn’t want to travel down that distressing road, again. She was better off with Winston out of her life.

  Maybe being home and around all of her family day and night it was just sinking in. The oldest child of seven meant that a person was never alone. When she was growing up she dreamed of stolen moments by herself; which were few and far between. Then she’d gone straight from home to living with Winston. The constant excitement and noise of her family made the silence of her place appear too empty. The thought that maybe she should start dating fluttered into her mind. Maybe she should apply for one of those online match making communities.

  “Hell, who am I kidding?” She lifted a forkful of the food into her mouth.

  With my schedule, what guy could handle only being able to see her once every eight days, sometimes nine? Principally, she would never allow anybody, especially a date, around her client. That was a no-no. Besides it would be just her luck she would wind up with another needy, self-centered, pampered ass like Winston. She shoved that thought away.

  She tried to focus on the comedy show before her, but a pair of hazel eyes invaded her mind. Hazel eyes symmetrically placed in a strong face surrounded by short sandy blond hair. As she remembered the sexy man from the plane, she began to realize that her cheeks were pulled up into a smile.

  Wow. What kind of man can make a woman grin like a silly school girl even when she didn’t really know him? For a moment she gave herself permission to recall Evan Douglas’s scent and formidable build. She still could remember how impressive his height was. Over six four at least, she wondered how he managed behind the wheel of a plane.

  She remembered the feel of his hand over hers, solid and strong; giving her just what she needed to calm down. He was strength, confidence and silent power personified. How could one touch be so commanding?

  “Now, that’s a man I’d love to have dinner with.” The vision of his sexy lips made a shiver race across her breasts and down her arms. Yes, if he’d asked her out, she wouldn’t argue her third date rule against him attempting to kiss her.

  That brought her mind to the memory of Evan holding her hand after the flight, pulling her towards him as his gaze had locked on her lips. Had he been about to kiss me? She recalled thinking that as she stood by the baggage carousel, but the look had cleared from his eyes so quickly she assumed she had been mistaken.

  “Of course I’m mistaken. Why would a strange man…a gorgeous man try to kiss me? A woman he just met on the plane.”

  Sighing, she picked up the remote and increased the volume to her TV trying to drown out her thoughts. Mister pilot hadn’t asked for her phone number, not that she would have expected him, too. He was just being a nice guy who helped her through a flight so she wouldn’t freak out and have to be kicked off the plane. That was something that happened often, planes making a detour and putting off a rowdy passenger.

  “Wouldn’t the town folks of Paris love to see that on the local news?” She laughed.

  Continuing her meal, she assured herself that once she returned to work tomor
row she’d be back to her normal self.

  Chapter Four

  Evan stood on the outer fringes of Snaps a monthly BDSM event in Charlotte. In the past during his visits home he’d located the event and had attended often. However, entry passes were given out a week before the event, in person, and none could be attained at the door on the night of the event. It was a way of keeping out those people who may have heard about it by word of mouth and were curious. Applications and phone conversations were handled two weeks prior for approval. After his screen process Deacon the organizer had been kind enough to allow Tre to collect his pass for him. Earlier in the day, when Trevon had given it to him, he’d pondered whether or not it was best for him to attend, with his father not doing well. However, after an hour in his father’s cantankerous presence he needed peace, a release.

  Dinner with the Smalls brood had been great. The familial camaraderie at his best friend’s house always made his throat just a little tight and weighed on his heart. Being around Tre’s family when he was growing up had done the same thing to him, especially after his mother passed, when everything had changed for the worse. After college when he’d been introduced, by a fellow pilot into the BDSM lifestyle something had connected. The control and peace he felt when in the cockpit of a plane was tripled inside the walls of a club.

  He’d discussed his new found experience with Tre, who didn’t feel the same connection, but still supported him. Tre was a friend who didn’t hesitate when asked to meet with Deacon at the venue and pick up the pass. It was that friendship and being around the other man and his wife and kids that just made his life seem that much emptier.