Read Online My Funny Valentine (Pajaro Bay Series Book 4) by Barbara Cool Lee - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Cool Lee
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My Funny Valentine
J osephine Anderson tried to get comfortable, but it was useless. This hard little bed at the nursing home was just not her bed, in her house.
With her Strudel next to her. Strudel the Street Poodle. That's what she'd named the tiny rescue dog when the veterinarian had first introduced them two months ago. The dog and she were both elderly, both all alone in life, and both needed someone to care for. Dr. Cassidy Trujillo, the nice young vet, had realized that somehow, and had brought them together. Josie and her little dog had been inseparable since then.
Until now.
Josie tried to picture Strudel's fluffy white face, the brown eyes that looked up to her so trustingly, the constantly wagging tail. But it was too painful to think about.
The heavy door to the hall opened and someone came in. Josie burrowed under the covers as the person went over to the thick, full-length curtains that had kept out the night's chill.
"Good morning, Mrs. Anderson," said Sylvia, the too-cheery care assistant.
Josie heard her pull the curtains back with a rattle of the curtain rings.
"Now, isn't that nicer?" Sylvia said.
Josie poked her head out from the covers. "Not really." She had been hearing rain against the window all night, and it was hardly any lighter now that morning had arrived. All she could see out the window was gray.
Sylvia smiled encouragingly at her. "I love storms here along the coast," she said in that annoyingly chirpy voice. "They're so romantic, don't you think? And today, in particular."
Josie looked away. Said nothing. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to be cheered up.
Sylvia rearranged the construction paper hearts the schoolchildren had made for all the nursing home residents. The one on her nightstand was pink, with hApy Valintins carefully printed in lavender crayon. It reminded her of the tiny lavender harness Strudel had worn, and she closed her eyes to stop thinking about it.
"Now, now, Mrs. Anderson, you have to try." Sylvia bent over and gave her a gentle pat on the arm. "You won't get better if you don't at least try to get up and walk a bit. I know it's scary after a fall like the one you had, but that leg isn't going to heal all by itself."
She started to pull the covers off to help Josie out of bed for her physical therapy, but Josie grabbed the covers and held on.
"Not today," she said firmly.
She knew Sylvia couldn't force her to do her physical therapy, and sure enough, after a few more attempts at persuasion, the woman left her alone.
Josie closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It didn't matter whether her leg got better or not. She had nobody to get better for now.
----
C lint Pham stood with a cold cup of coffee in his hand, staring out the window above the kitchen sink.
Rain. He sighed and rubbed the wrinkled scar on his forehead. All night there'd been the patter of rain on the roof of his little beach cottage. And with the morning, it still rained. He should be glad he didn't have to go back to work until Monday. Driving up the coast to his boss's house in this weather would have been a real bear. But he was going stir-crazy staying home.
He was really looking forward to getting out of the house soon. It had been ten days since he'd first come down with the flu, and he was now at that stage where he was over the worst of it, but wasn't yet cleared by the doctor to go back to work.
He knew it would be unfair to expose everyone else to his germs just because he was going stir-crazy. But now he was so bored he was reduced to staring out the window at the next door neighbor's house.
He missed the little old lady next door. She'd fallen down the stairs and broken her leg last week, and she was recuperating in a nursing home. Now her house was empty and silent. And boring.
If someone had told him three months ago that he'd miss the little old lady next door, he wouldn't have believed it.
He had gotten used to talking to Mrs. Anderson every day. That was a part of
J osephine Anderson tried to get comfortable, but it was useless. This hard little bed at the nursing home was just not her bed, in her house.
With her Strudel next to her. Strudel the Street Poodle. That's what she'd named the tiny rescue dog when the veterinarian had first introduced them two months ago. The dog and she were both elderly, both all alone in life, and both needed someone to care for. Dr. Cassidy Trujillo, the nice young vet, had realized that somehow, and had brought them together. Josie and her little dog had been inseparable since then.
Until now.
Josie tried to picture Strudel's fluffy white face, the brown eyes that looked up to her so trustingly, the constantly wagging tail. But it was too painful to think about.
The heavy door to the hall opened and someone came in. Josie burrowed under the covers as the person went over to the thick, full-length curtains that had kept out the night's chill.
"Good morning, Mrs. Anderson," said Sylvia, the too-cheery care assistant.
Josie heard her pull the curtains back with a rattle of the curtain rings.
"Now, isn't that nicer?" Sylvia said.
Josie poked her head out from the covers. "Not really." She had been hearing rain against the window all night, and it was hardly any lighter now that morning had arrived. All she could see out the window was gray.
Sylvia smiled encouragingly at her. "I love storms here along the coast," she said in that annoyingly chirpy voice. "They're so romantic, don't you think? And today, in particular."
Josie looked away. Said nothing. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to be cheered up.
Sylvia rearranged the construction paper hearts the schoolchildren had made for all the nursing home residents. The one on her nightstand was pink, with hApy Valintins carefully printed in lavender crayon. It reminded her of the tiny lavender harness Strudel had worn, and she closed her eyes to stop thinking about it.
"Now, now, Mrs. Anderson, you have to try." Sylvia bent over and gave her a gentle pat on the arm. "You won't get better if you don't at least try to get up and walk a bit. I know it's scary after a fall like the one you had, but that leg isn't going to heal all by itself."
She started to pull the covers off to help Josie out of bed for her physical therapy, but Josie grabbed the covers and held on.
"Not today," she said firmly.
She knew Sylvia couldn't force her to do her physical therapy, and sure enough, after a few more attempts at persuasion, the woman left her alone.
Josie closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It didn't matter whether her leg got better or not. She had nobody to get better for now.
----
C lint Pham stood with a cold cup of coffee in his hand, staring out the window above the kitchen sink.
Rain. He sighed and rubbed the wrinkled scar on his forehead. All night there'd been the patter of rain on the roof of his little beach cottage. And with the morning, it still rained. He should be glad he didn't have to go back to work until Monday. Driving up the coast to his boss's house in this weather would have been a real bear. But he was going stir-crazy staying home.
He was really looking forward to getting out of the house soon. It had been ten days since he'd first come down with the flu, and he was now at that stage where he was over the worst of it, but wasn't yet cleared by the doctor to go back to work.
He knew it would be unfair to expose everyone else to his germs just because he was going stir-crazy. But now he was so bored he was reduced to staring out the window at the next door neighbor's house.
He missed the little old lady next door. She'd fallen down the stairs and broken her leg last week, and she was recuperating in a nursing home. Now her house was empty and silent. And boring.
If someone had told him three months ago that he'd miss the little old lady next door, he wouldn't have believed it.
He had gotten used to talking to Mrs. Anderson every day. That was a part of
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