Chapter 2

He was getting around better than he'd thought possible. Cally was a tough taskmaster, and he knew she enjoyed pushing him to his limits. The facility was well-equipped, and although he could never consider this senior community his home, he felt comfortable in the gym. He knew others in the gym looked at him with puzzlement, and he understood it. Jamestown Senior Living accepted residents over the age of fifty-five and he was well past that, chronologically. Despite his injuries, he was in much better shape than the typical gym user. People stared at him, wondering what someone like him was doing here. He stared back thanking God that a lifetime of physical fitness had prevented him from being in a physical state more consistent with his age.

He watched Cally as he silently counted the reps of his chest press. He'd gained upper body strength in the few weeks he'd been working with her. His lower body wasn't quite wasting away, but his workouts were limited by the external fixation. She was smart. She'd known, instinctively, that he would need to see progress, and she'd found a way to make sure that progress happened. He glanced at the wall clock and realized his time for the day was nearly at an end.

"I imagine you're wanting to get out of here and go home," he told her. "It's Friday, and I remember when I was of a certain age, Friday night was the most important night of the week."

Cally laughed. "I remember that age, too, but that's the past for me. I'm planning a solitary evening with a good book." The lights at the far end of the gym went out. "Hey," she hollered. "We're still working over here, Rob."

"Sorry, Cally," a male voice returned. The lights came back on. "Didn't realize you were staying late. I'm headed to Danny's to meet some of the gang. Come on down when you're done."

"Maybe next time," Cally told him. "I've got plans for this evening." She looked at Ranger and held her fingers to her lips. "Shhh," she said, grinning. "Don't give my secret away."

Ranger watched as Rob walked the length of the gym toward them. "Hey, Mr. Mañoso," he said, smiling at Ranger. "How are you doing?"

"Good," Ranger told him.

"You're in good hands with Cally. She's the best, even if she is a workaholic."

"Rob," Cally admonished. "Just because I don't go partying with you and the group doesn't mean I'm a workaholic. I just have plans for tonight."

"New book out in your favorite mystery series?" he teased, and then he grinned as he saw Cally blush. "Don't worry, kid," Rob said. He reached out and tugged on Cally's ponytail. "I'll wear you down, eventually."

Ranger watched the young man walk from the gym before he turned to Cally. "That's another week in the books," he said. Every week gone was one less he'd have to spend here.

"Not quite," Cally said. "I'm off for the weekend but you have homework to do. You can come down and run through your upper body routine on Sunday. The weekend staff knows to let you do your own thing."

"My reputation precedes me?"

Cally grinned. "Something like that."

He grinned back. "I'll see myself back up to my apartment. Why don't you go change your mind and join Rob for some Friday evening fun?"

"I'm not interested. I don't mean to be standoffish to him but…" she paused and blew out a shaky breath. Ranger was surprised to see her quickly swipe a tear from her eye. "Sorry," she said. "Sometimes the waterworks take me by surprise." She rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Sorry, really," she said. "I usually handle my emotions better, but today has been kind of a hard day."

"Is it something I could help you with?" he asked. He frowned at the ridiculousness of his unexpected question. He wasn't sure why he asked, other than he didn't like to think of her being unhappy.

"No, I don't think anyone can help me," she said. "I've been told time is a healer, but I'm not sure about that."

"I've been told that time heals as well," Ranger said. He waved a hand at his injured leg. "In fact, you told me time would heal this."

"I said time and hard work, which you've been putting in," she replied. "My situation is somewhat different."

"Would you like to talk about it?" Ranger asked.

"It's a long story," Cally said.

"I've got nothing but time," he responded.

"You're a nice man, Carlos Mañoso," she said. "I might take you up on your offer to listen to my sad story, someday."

"There's no time like the present," he countered. "I'm not the most social of people, but I've had quite a bit of my own company lately. I'd enjoy your company if you really want to talk."

Cally looked at him for a moment and then said, "This is a little…well, odd. But would you like to have dinner with me?"

"In one of the restaurants here?" he asked. He'd had his meals delivered to his apartment and they'd been palatable. He'd yet to venture into one of the restaurants to dine.

"No. They're great, but I have a craving. There's this place that has delicious carry-out. Pino's. They have the best meatball subs I've ever tasted. What about if I close up shop here and go pick up dinner for us?"

"I know all about Pino's meatball subs. I probably was eating at Pino's before you were born. Are you local to this area?"

"No, I came here because of a job opportunity, originally. That's part of the story. So, what do you say, are you up for a meatball sub?"

"I am." He was, he realized. The thought of sharing a meal with her appealed to him. Whether it was the day-to-day monotony of being incapacitated, or whether it was his unusual interest in the girl, he couldn't say. He was looking forward to hearing her story.

Forty minutes later, Cally settled the bags on his small table and pulled two bottles of cream soda from one of them. "I know cream soda probably isn't your first choice, but I didn't think it would be right for me to bring you alcohol," she said. He remembered the bottle of pinot noir in his cabinet, a gift from his father when he'd come to visit.

"Cream soda is fine," he said. "I'm surprised you're familiar with Pino's. It's not as popular as it once was but it still has a cult following, or so I've been told."

"It's very popular with law enforcement and firefighters," she said. "My husband introduced me to Pino's. Now I'm hooked."

"You're married?" Ranger asked.

"Was married," she said. "He died."

Ranger remained silent. He didn't offer condolences, because he remembered how much he'd resented hearing them after Stephanie.

"He was a police officer…" she started, but Ranger interrupted.

"After dinner," he said. "Let's eat first. Then we can talk." He could see she was on the verge of tears, and while the thought of comforting a crying woman didn't terrify him, he thought it might be best for her to gain a little control before she began to tell what was going to be a difficult story for her.

He looked at his cream soda and sighed. "You don't have to bring me alcohol," he said. "Because I've already got it. Would you like some wine with your sandwich?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You have wine? Did someone smuggle you in some contraband?"

Ranger smiled at the idea. "My father."

"Well, I hate to disappoint your father, but I'm really okay with cream soda. You should have some, though, if you want. I mean, if it's okay with your meds."

"I'm not on any meds," he told her. "I quit the pain meds a couple of weeks ago. Technically I don't have to be here, it's just that the accident happened at an inconvenient time in my life. I was in the middle of changing my residence and this just seemed the easiest way to solve the problem that I was, for the moment, homeless."

Again, her eyebrows raised. He sensed she was looking for the appropriate words, so he helped her. "No," he said. He bit back a grin at the thought of it. "It's not a financial situation. If it was I couldn't afford this place. It was as I said, just a matter of convenience. My parents wanted me to stay with them, but as active as they are, they are getting older and I would have been an unnecessary burden on them."

"You're an interesting man, Carlos," Cally said. "I told you the first time we met that you were elderly, but I take that back. You obviously come from a good gene pool if your parents are alive and active."

"And as you pointed out," Ranger said. "I am old, or I wouldn't be qualified to be in this place. Having said that, my parents are healthy and very active considering they are in their eighties. My dad has come to visit several times, but my mother limits herself to phone calls. It bothers her, I think, to realize her son is old enough to be in this facility."

"You don't seem old," she said. "You're the same age as my mother, and I don't think of her as being elderly."

"Does your mother live here?" he asked.

"No, Georgia. Brunswick. I've lived there all my life until I got married after college. I miss it, and her."

If her husband was dead, he wondered why she didn't move back, but he didn't ask. He'd said they'd talk after dinner.

When they were done with their meal, Cally quickly cleaned up the trash and deposited it in the bin. "See," she told him with a grin, "I'm a good guest. I even did the dishes."

Ranger smiled back at her as she took her seat once again across from him at the now clean table. "So you did," he agreed. "I am capable, though. I have been trying to do as much for myself here as I can."

"The whole idea of being here is that you can call for assistance any time you need it," Cally said. "That's what you're paying the big bucks for."

"I'm trying to be self-sufficient, so I can get back to some semblance of a normal life."

"You're doing great," Cally told him. "You had one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the region so that was a bonus. But you're working very hard at getting better and the results are sort of amazing."

"I'll take credit for the work I'm doing, but the choice of surgeon was a random bit of good luck," Ranger said.

"I'm going to be a surgeon like Dr. Jones someday," Cally said. "I hope to be half as good as he is."

"You're going to medical school?"

"Eventually," Cally said. "My husband is—was a local boy. I met him at college. He came south, to Georgia, to go to school because he had a football scholarship. He got his degree in criminal justice and received a great job offer with the Newark P.D. We married right after college and I moved up here and applied to med school at Rutgers."

"Rutgers is a good school. It's my alma mater, though, so I might be a little prejudiced," Ranger told her.

"Oh, you're not," Cally said. "It's a wonderful school. Their medical school is nationally recognized. It's sort of a lengthy process to get into med school and I had just gotten my physical therapy certification, so I went to work while I waited to get accepted."

"And you're still waiting to get accepted?" Ranger asked.

"No, I've been accepted. Six months ago, my husband was killed during a routine traffic stop, a hit and run. Two days later I got an acceptance letter from the university. I was devastated. I was going to move back home, but my mom—we're very close—told me I should stay. She's been a good, although distant, support for me. I asked for a year's delay in entrance due to my personal circumstances and received it. I'll start next fall."

She'd made the statement prosaically, but her head was turned away from him. Her eyes, which were sparkling with unshed tears, focused on a random spot on the wall behind him. She was striving for control and instinctively he reached across and took her hand.

"I lost someone close to me when I was much younger. I won't insult you by telling you I know what you're going through. I'll just say that you can learn to live with the pain. Sometimes it helps to know you're not alone in your grief."

"Thank you," she said. She turned her hand under his and squeezed it with a firm grip, and then she slid it out of his grasp. "They never caught the person responsible. I sometimes think it would be easier for me if they had. I'd have some place to focus the rage I still feel. Now you see why I'm not interested in hanging out with Rob and his friends. It's too soon. It might always be too soon."

"Rob doesn't know?" Ranger asked.

"No one knows. After Ben, my husband, died, I changed jobs and towns. I needed to be around people who had no idea. I couldn't stand the sympathetic looks, and the awkwardness of people who didn't know what to say, so they said the wrong thing. So, no one knows."

"Almost no one knows," he said. "You just shared it with me."

"I did," she said. "It's strange, but I wanted to tell you. I think you can keep secrets. I think you'll keep mine. I know you're someone I can trust. I'm not sure how to explain it, but I just have a feeling about it."

"I am someone you can trust," he told her.

Later, after Cally had gone, Ranger sat unmoving and thought about the night. Cally had no way of knowing that her grief shared a commonality with his. He'd lost Stephanie to a hit and run, and he understood completely the feeling of rage with nothing or no one to focus it on. He remembered Stephanie and what she used to call her spidey sense. He thought he'd heard her use Cally's exact words. "I just have a feeling about it."

Cally's feelings were that she could trust him. His feelings were unsettled. He'd been happy to listen to her. He thought maybe it had helped her to tell her story, but it had brought back feelings of loss he'd thought were deeply buried. When he went to bed, he didn't sleep well.