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He just couldn’t seem to concentrate. Since leaving Ally Rogers at the E.R. he’d done his damnedest to keep his mind on the patients he’d seen. But his thoughts kept wandering back to Ally.
On the few occasions when Estelle had spoken of her daughter, Jake had imagined Ally to be considerably older. After all, he was the age of most of his walking companions’ grandchildren, not their children, so he’d never figured that Estelle’s daughter would be closer to his age.
Young and beautiful…
Yeah, okay, so not only her age had thrown him off.
Ally Rogers was someone any man would have taken a second look at. Which was what he’d been doing from the emergency-room waiting area before he’d even known who she was.
Not too tall—about five-four—she was well proportioned with curves enough for his gaze to linger where it shouldn’t have when he’d first seen her from a distance.
She also had gleaming wavy blond hair that was nearly the color of summer sunshine, cascading around a face that could have been made of fine bone china.
But it was her eyes that had stuck with him most. Bright, rich green, the color of rolling Irish hillsides, sparkling even when she was just coming out of her faint…
Not that it mattered, he reminded himself, fighting off the image. It didn’t matter how beautiful she was. It didn’t matter that she was younger than he’d expected. Neither of those things could excuse neglecting her mother. Or at least what had seemed to him like neglect.
It was a personal sore spot with him and he knew it had roots in his own background. Growing up as he had, without a family of his own, shuffled from stranger to stranger in foster care, had bred in him the conviction that families shouldn’t be taken for granted. If a person was lucky enough to have one, they damn well should appreciate it and be willing to do whatever it took to maintain it.
Jake threw his pen onto his case file and pushed back into his leather chair with a vengeance.
A tough old bird—that was how he’d always thought of Estelle Rogers. She was a woman who didn’t invite closeness, who didn’t exude the kind of warmth that Bubby did. But he tended to take people the way they were, to look for the good in them, and he liked Estelle.
Once he’d gotten to know her he’d found that she had a dry sense of humor, an admirable determination and a generous spirit. She was also always ready to lend a hand to anyone at the senior center who needed it, and until recently, she’d played an unbeatable game of cribbage.
But he felt bad for her—lately because of whatever health issues might be looming, and before because she’d seemed as alone as he was, despite the fact that, unlike him, she did have family. A daughter.
A daughter who, with the exception of a weekly phone call and a few holiday visits, didn’t bother with her mother.
At least, not in the three years that Jake had known Estelle.
Yes, now that he’d met her daughter he was less sure about the relationship between them, but Jake still believed that Estelle was entitled to her daughter’s care, difficult relationship or not. And if Ally Rogers had any decency she’d be more conscientious and make the best of however much longer she might have with her mother, because she was lucky to have a mother at all.
On the other hand, clinically, he had to concede that there might be more going on with the Rogerses than he’d thought, and recognizing that battled with those personal feelings.
Some people could be even tougher on their own families than they were on the rest of the world, and maybe Estelle fell into that category. If she did, making the best of the time she and her daughter had left together could be tricky.
The bottom line at this point, though, was that when Estelle’s health, well-being and future had to be addressed, her daughter was the only one who could address it. Friends didn’t have the same legal authority, if nothing else.
So for Estelle’s sake, he hoped Ally could handle the situation the right way.
And maybe for his own sake, too.
Not that he had anything at stake in this other than wanting what was good for Estelle.
It was just that now that he’d seen Ally Rogers, he was hoping she had as much character as she did beauty.
When the doorbell rang at nine o’clock, Ally shot a glance up the stairs of her mother’s house, afraid the bell would wake Estelle. She hurried to open the door before whoever was there could ring again.
Jake Fox stood on the step.
Ally considered it a lapse in her own sanity that any part of her was happy to see him. But there was a part that took a little leap of…interest?
Hiding it completely, she said an almost challenging “Hello.”
“Hi,” he greeted in return.
She asked him in, still camouflaging her secret elation by making the invitation sound begrudging.
But if he noticed, he didn’t react to it as he came inside.
What he did react to was the sight of her suitcase, waiting beside the staircase.
“You can’t be leaving?” he said. “I checked with the E.R. I know Estelle’s wrist is only a sprain and she got a relatively clean bill of health otherwise, but that doesn’t mean this is over or under control by any means. The fall is nothing compared to—”
“My mother is upstairs asleep for the night,” Ally said to cut him off. “We didn’t get out of the emergency room until three this afternoon. I took care of a few things, got us some dinner and since she’s finally down for the count I was about to take my suitcase out to my own place.”
“Your own place?” he said, sounding calmer but confused.
“There’s a small sort-of apartment above the garage. It’s where I stay when I’m here.”
It was criminal how attractive the man was, even with a baffled expression on his face.
“Come on, I’ll show you,” she offered rather than remain where they were and risk that their voices might rouse Estelle.
Ally bent over to pick up her suitcase but Jake beat her to it.
It was an unexpected courtesy.
“Thanks,” she said, almost wishing he hadn’t done anything nice—it conflicted with the ogreish image of him that she was trying to hang on to.
She walked ahead of him down the hallway that ran beside the stairs into the dated liberty-green kitchen. Then she went out the back door and to a stairway that hugged the rear of the house and led to the upper portion of the attached garage.
The stairs creaked as they climbed them to the landing where Ally unlocked a scarred wooden door to let them in.
The apartment was a single room that was more like a big bedroom than an apartment. It was large enough for only a double bed and dresser, a sofa with a television close in front of it, a few kitchen cupboards and some old appliances lining one wall, and a closet and bathroom tucked into the far end.
“This is where you stay when you visit your mother?” Jake asked once they were inside, setting her suitcase on the floor.
“Actually, I haven’t lived or stayed in the house with my mother since I was sixteen. I adopted this as my own space then and lived up here through the rest of high school and all through college. After I left home and started coming back to visit, my mother said that she liked her privacy and was sure I’d want mine, so I might as well use it then, too. Which is what I’ve done.”
Ally could see that he found that extremely curious, but since he didn’t ask, she didn’t say more on the subject.
Instead, he said, “Estelle needs to have tabs kept on her. You can’t do that from out here.”
“As a matter of fact, I can. One of her friends from the center came by after we got home today and while she and Mother were visiting I went out and bought a state-of-the-art intercom system. It works for every room in the house, so I can monitor where she is at all times. It’s also connected to a motion detector that’s on the front and the back doors—a light goes on and a beeping sounds whenever either of them opens,” she said, pointing at the receiver. “Plus, I don’t plan to be up here during the day unless she has a guest or we need a short break from each other.”
“Impressive,” Jake said with raised eyebrows that made Ally think it surprised him that she’d done anything at all.
She picked up her suitcase from where he’d left it and took it to a trunk at the foot of the bed.
She didn’t ask him to sit, wanting to dish out a little payback for his earlier treatment, but also in denial of the fact that she was even slightly glad that he was there.
When she turned back to him she found him perched on the arm of the couch anyway. He looked relaxed and it flashed through Ally’s mind that under other circumstances Dr. Jake Fox might have an entirely different effect on her. An effect that would involve things a whole lot better than anger or frustration.
But these weren’t other circumstances, and to keep even the hint of those better effects at bay, she busied herself by opening windows to air the place out.
“How is Estelle doing?” he asked then.
“Good question,” Ally said, hearing the bewilderment in her own voice but glad to talk about her mother to further distract herself when all the windows were open and she had to face him again. “One minute she’s herself, and the next…I’m not sure. She did tell me when I brought her home today that I should be a nurse and marry a nice doctor like you—or maybe even you—so I guess we know who she thinks highly of.”
He smiled as if she’d caught him off guard with that and he couldn’t help himself. And when he smiled, deep grooves bracketed his lips in a way that lent an entirely new level of handsomeness to his features.
Not that she wanted to be aware of that any more than she’d wanted to notice the innate sensuality he exuded just sitting there…
“I’ll bet you squashed the idea of me being nice, let alone marriage material,” he said wryly.
Okay, so she couldn’t help a slight smile, herself, at the fact that he’d read her so correctly.
“You did, didn’t you?” he said with a chuckle.
“You’re probably married or engaged or living with someone and she forgot about it,” Ally countered rather than admit he was right.
“None of the above. Why? Did she forget that you’re married or engaged or living with someone?”
Was he interested, or merely checking on her mother’s mental capacities?
He couldn’t be interested and as disapproving of her as he’d been.
“No, she didn’t forget that about me either—I’m unattached,” Ally confirmed. “What she forgot was that I’m not eighteen and just making my decision about where to go to college and what to major in and do with my life. It was sort of a combination of revisiting a time when she didn’t want me to go into interior design and the present-day you thrown in somewhere. It was confusing.”
“Yeah, things with Estelle have been that way for a while now.”
“But the next minute she can be normal,” Ally contributed defensively, because she didn’t want him to lose sight of that.
“And the minute after that she could be confused again,” he countered. “Did you talk to her about having a physical or letting me order some neurological tests?”
“I tried. More than once. She shot me down every time. Angrily. She says she’s fine.”
“But you’re seeing for yourself that she isn’t.”
Ally shrugged. “Something is up,” she acknowledged. “The trouble is, she’s the most like herself when she’s adamantly refusing to do anything about it.”
“That’s where you come in.”
Ally sighed. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think that I’m the one who can get my mother to agree to anything. The truth is, I’m the last person she listens to.”
“Then you’ll have to be more take-charge with her than you’ve ever been before.”
“Take-charge? With Estelle Rogers? That would invite a power struggle that would make her dig in her heels worse than she already has. She doesn’t do what she doesn’t want to do.”
Jake’s dark gray eyes pinned her in place as he seemed to weigh something.
Then he said, “I’m going to be straight with you, Ally—giving in to Estelle, not doing anything about her health or what’s gone on here the last two days, isn’t an option. Before you got there today, the E.R. doc wanted to call in Social Services. It can be done for geriatrics the same way it can be done for minors in jeopardy. The fact that Estelle lives alone and that there are indications that it isn’t a safe situation for her anymore is enough for them to step in. If they do, they can control what gets done with her and where she ends up living.”
Ally could feel the color draining from her face.
“Seriously? That can be done with an adult?”
“Anyone considered at risk,” he reiterated. “I told the E.R. doc that you were on the way—that kept it from happening today. But if you can’t deal with this, I’ll have to call a caseworker myself.”
“You’re threatening me?”
He shook his head. “I’m telling you the way the system works. I can’t force a friend to get medical attention, but I am legally obligated to notify authorities if I know of anyone who’s unable to care for themselves.”
Ally had had just about enough for one jet-lagged, nearly sleepless, enormously stress-filled day. She lost it.
“What do you want me to do, physically force her to have tests done? Apparently you—who she likes and respects and who carries the authority of being a doctor—haven’t been able to convince her to have the tests you want to do. But you think I can come in here and work some kind of magic on one of the most stubborn people who ever walked the face of the earth? Me, who she still blames for—”
She caught herself. “Who she still thinks of as an irresponsible kid?”
“What does she blame you for?”
Of course. He was a shrink. He wasn’t going to let a Freudian slip like that go by.
But Ally wasn’t going to bare her soul to him, no matter who he was or what he did for a living.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, no longer shouting but sounding no happier with him than she had. “I’m just saying that I’ll do whatever I can, but don’t expect miracles.”
He was watching her closely and she wished she could push a rewind button and go back to the moment before she’d spoken so carelessly. But if he thought silence and scrutiny were going to make her uncomfortable enough to spill more of her guts, he was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Still, when the silence went on longer than she could bear, she sighed and said, “I’ll keep working on her and see what I can do. Who knows, since she’s changing personalities every hour, maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow morning with one that’s agreeable. But, Jake, please don’t call Social Services until I see if I can fix this.”
“It may not be fixable,” he cautioned, calmly, quietly, and in a way that told her he was going to drop his quest for an explanation. “If Estelle has Alzheimer’s—”
“Can we just stick to what I can deal with this weekend while I’m here?”
“This weekend? This weekend is only the beginning.”
And he was on the attack again—Ally heard that familiar impatience in his voice.
“If your mother has Alzheimer’s,” he continued, “there won’t be an easy solution. And one way or another—”
“I know!” she said to stop him from saying more that she just couldn’t hear tonight. “I know, I know, I know!”
Exhausted, Ally sank onto the corner of her bed.
To his credit, he got the message that she simply could not handle the big picture right then.
