Ruby felt Brooks freeze up, his body stiffening. He closed his eyes, and she tightened her hold on his hand. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, but he hesitated.
The nurse waved them over and placed two chairs by the window to face the old man, who was slumped over in his seat.
“Ready?” Ruby asked.
Brooks nodded. She was by his side as they walked over and sat down.
“Hello,” Ruby said first. “I’m Ruby.”
“You’re a pretty thing,” the old man said in a childlike voice. “I don’t know you, do I?”
Ruby shook her head. “No.”
He blinked and seemed to stare straight through her.
The nurse put her hand on Bill Turner’s shoulder. “Mr. Turner, this is your grandson, Brooks.”
“My grandson?” Bill stared blankly at Brooks. “I don’t have a grandson.”
“You have two grandsons,” Brooks said. “Twins. I have a brother named Graham.”
As the nurse walked off, the man began shaking his head.
“They are your daughter Mary Jo’s children,” Ruby offered.
At the mention of Mary Jo, Bill Turner’s eyes switched on. “My daughter? She sits by the fireplace and reads. She likes to read. Quiet little girl. Where is Mary Jo? Is she coming?”
“No, she’s not coming today,” Brooks said, moisture pooling in his eyes.
Ruby ached inside as she watched Brooks swipe at his tears.
“Maybe she’ll come another day,” the old man said. “I would like to see her.”
“Maybe she will,” Ruby said. “How do you like it here, Mr. Turner?”
He shrugged. “I guess I like it fine.”
“The people seem nice.”
“Where’s Mary Jo?” He looked toward the doorway. “She likes to read. Her nose is always in a book. She’s a smart girl.”
“She is a smart girl,” Brooks managed to answer. “And s-she loves to read.”
“Do I know you?” Bill Turner’s brows gathered. The wrinkles and blankness on his face hid the handsome man he’d once been. “I don’t think I know you.”
“No,” Brooks said, his gaze turning Ruby’s way, hopelessness in his expression. He tried again. “You don’t know me. But I’m your grandson. Mary Jo was my mother. You are my grandfather.”
He shot Brooks another blank stare. “I’m your grandfather?”
Brooks nodded. “Yes.”
Bill Turner looked out the window, focusing on a bird hopping on the ground beside a mesquite tree just a few yards away.
“Mr. Turner?” Ruby put her hand on his arm.
He swiveled his head slowly back to them. “I used to build things, you know. I built my own house. This is not my house. I didn’t build this.”
“No, but it’s your home now, Mr. Turner,” Ruby said quietly.
“Yes. It’s my home now.” The light in his eyes dimmed. Then he popped his head up, in search of the nurse. “I think it’s time for lunch.”
Brooks stared at him for several heartbeats, then sighed and rose from the chair. Ruby witnessed a depth of sadness and pain in his eyes she’d never seen before. “We have to go now, Mr. Turner,” he said, taking Ruby’s hand again. “Have a good lunch.”
They exited without saying another word, and Brooks stopped as they reached his parked car. “It’s so damn unfair.”
“What?” Her stomach churned. She could guess what Brooks was about to say.
“He’s like a child. He doesn’t remember his abuse. He doesn’t remember hurting his family. He’s blacked out the bad times.”
“You’re angry,” Ruby said.
“I’m...yeah, I guess I’m pretty pissed. I wanted to meet the son of a bitch and lay into him about my mother. Someone needed to defend her and look out for her. Someone had to stand up to him. Even though I’m years late, I had it in my head I’d come here and tell the old guy off.” He fisted his hands. “But he’s in a world of his own. Nothing I’d say to him would sink in.”
“Probably not, Brooks. That’s the sad thing about dementia. He’s trapped in his own head,” Ruby said.
Brooks dropped his gaze to the ground, shaking his head.
Ruby stepped closer and stared into his handsome face, which was tightly lined in raw pain. He was fighting to keep the tears away. “It’s okay to feel all the things you’re feeling. Coming here will give you closure, trust me. It will. When you get back home and think about this, you’ll feel better. You’ll begin to feel whole again.”
Brooks slowly wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer. She laid her head on his chest. His heart was beating so fast she placed her hand there to calm him, to give him the balm he needed right now. Nestled in his embrace, she waited for the beats to slow to a normal pace.
“How come you know me so well, Ruby?” He brushed the top of her head with a kiss.
“I just do, I guess.”
He tightened his hold, locking her against his body as they swayed ever so slightly together to the music. Electricity sizzled. It always did when they were this close. “You feel so damn good in my arms.”
“Humph.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know how you meant it, Brooks.” He welcomed her comfort. He needed her here, and she wouldn’t want it any other way. “I’m just giving you jazz.”
“Because that’s what you do.”
“Yeah, that’s what I do.”
“Don’t ever stop doing that,” he whispered into her ear.
Something fierce and protective crackled and snapped inside her. And in that moment, Ruby knew she never wanted to stop giving him anything. She’d fallen in love with him. She loved him so much, she wanted to take away his pain, absorb it and tuck it away in some deep, dark place, never to return. She loved Brooks Newport.
But did she still love Trace, too?
Right now, in Brooks’s arms, she was giving him all he needed. She wouldn’t think about the future and the fact that Brooks would be leaving after the holidays.
He had a home in Chicago.
A thriving business there.
And none of it included her.
* * *
The next day, Ruby licked around her cone of dark chocolate fudge ice cream, enjoying every second of her indulgence. Sitting beside her at the Fudge You Ice Cream Factory, Eve was doing the same, digging into her chocolate cone, and Serena, who was happy to join them today, sat across the booth, devouring a dish of French vanilla scoops topped with caramel sauce.
“Yum,” Eve said, crunching down on the sugar cone. “I can’t remember the last time I had ice cream.”
“You don’t crave ice cream?” Serena asked. “Isn’t that the go-to craving when you’re pregnant?”
“That’s what I hear. But for me it’s more potato chips and dip. Give me salt and I’m happy. But I’d never turn down good ice cream. If I don’t