Worth the Trouble(43)
“Hey, Mom. Where are you going?”
“Rick?” His mother scowled at him. She drew back while jabbing her finger in Cat’s direction. “Who?”
Her brittle voice stopped him in his tracks. Helen had mentioned his mother’s more frequent angry outbursts. Of course they’d flare up now, in front of Cat.
“It’s me, Mom. Hank.” He held his hands up slowly and backed up. “What do you need?”
His mother clutched the fabric above her chest, still pointing at Cat. “Fssht!”
“Mom,” Hank began, ignoring her inarticulate last word, then Cat interrupted.
“Mrs. Mitchell, I’m Hank’s friend, Catalina.” She spoke in even, calm tones. Her smile didn’t falter, nor did she reveal any discomfort. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
Still, his mother’s eyes narrowed into a confused scowl. “Why . . . you?” She tangled one hand into her hair and shuffled toward the kitchen. In a softer voice, she mumbled something he didn’t understand.
Hank winced, avoiding Cat’s gaze as he followed his mother, but Cat called to him.
“Hank, I hear something,” she said. “Sounds like water.”
He strained to listen while keeping an eye on his mother. The faint rush of water from an open faucet hissed from the master bedroom. “Can you check her bathroom? I’d rather not leave you alone with her to go check myself.”
Cat nodded before crossing the living room and disappearing into the master bedroom. Her unruffled response to the circumstances surprised Hank, proving how little he really knew about her—things he wanted to discover.
His mother reached the kitchen, stopping at the table. She stared blankly at the refrigerator and released the fabric she’d been groping, which was now smudged with toothpaste. Her hands fell to her sides while he waited quietly.
“Mom,” he whispered, his heart wrung out like a tattered dishrag. “It’s me, Hank.” He wet some paper towels with warm water and began wiping her hands to remove the toothpaste. “Are you hungry?”
She turned as if startled to see him and picked at her clothes, shivering.
“You’re cold? Let’s go change these pajamas and get you warmed up.”
Like a child, she pushed her walker beside him as he led her back to her bedroom. Somewhere along the way she slipped into a trance. Once he helped her back into bed, he removed the pajamas and let her lie there in her housedress rather than risk upsetting her again. After pulling the covers up, he kissed her head.
He pinched the bridge of his nose before going to her bathroom. Cat was kneeling on the vanity—shoes tossed aside—cleaning toothpaste off the mirror with a washcloth.
She’d thrown a towel on the floor to sop up a puddle that had somehow ended up down there. Glamour girl didn’t even seem put out, perched up on the sink. Silently, he grabbed another washcloth and worked alongside her to clean up the mess.
Dammit. After witnessing this little episode she’d surely bolt back to her fun, easy life. When they finished, he took the rag from her hand, picked up the soaked towel, and turned off the light. Cat quietly trailed behind him to the living room.
“I’m sorry.” He threw the towels aside. “Not sure what to say except thanks for helping.”
“Don’t apologize, Hank. I shouldn’t have just barged in on you tonight.” She groped her ponytail while the look in her eyes grew distant. “I remember watching my mother wither away, but cancer never robbed her of her memory. At least she always knew who I was. I can’t imagine losing that connection. I’m so sorry.”
Cat’s dewy eyes and compassion didn’t feel anything like pity, and for that he was grateful.
“It pretty much sucks,” he admitted.
Cat stepped forward and squeezed his hand in comfort.
He squeezed back, wishing he could tug her closer. “You probably want to get going now.”
He smiled, hoping he didn’t look disappointed as he prepared for her polite good-bye. She cocked her head, biting her lip.
“Actually, I’m starving. If you don’t mind company, let’s still order pizza.” She withdrew her hands and tucked her thumbs inside her pockets. “Maybe you could even show me where you build furniture.”
Another curveball.
She wanted to stay. Hope reached inside his chest and pumped his heart.
“Okay. Pepperoni and mushroom sound good?”
An hour later they’d finished an entire extra-large pizza. To be fair, he’d eaten ninety percent of it while she’d eaten a salad and one slice.
Now she sat with one leg tucked up under her butt and her elbows on the table. Seeing her so relaxed reminded him of how she’d behaved at Jackson’s last year—the version of Cat St. James he liked best. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone other than her family, Vivi, and now him, ever had the privilege of seeing her this way.