Thawing Hearts

By Denton Salle

Vanessa only wanted to do her job as head nurse and walk her dog. No romance. Guys were just users.

Then Nick turned up. Attraction sizzled. Winter got awful hot.

Burned before, can she trust her heart this time?

A sweet romance where love surprises everyone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denton Salle
• Release date: Mar 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393544890

Book preview

1

Vanessa looked out the window at the snow that continued to fall. The streets were white under the glow of the streetlights, and nothing was moving, like a horror movie in which everyone had vanished. The little park where she would walk and play with her shih-tzu Alf, was a solid mass of snow, a white blanket over the flowerbeds, and paths. She shivered and dropped the drape back. Winter seemed unending this year.

She walked across the carpeted floors, glad of the warmth of her slippers and robe, swishing over the wool rug. The slippers’ lambswool lining was still soft despite the years of wear, and the robe was comforting in its weight. I look like I’m homeless in these sweats and layers, but inelegant or not, I’m warm. The Pendleton blanket pattern of the robe didn’t go with her bright pink sweatpants, but it probably didn’t go with anything. She shrugged, following the smell of coffee as it mixed with the scent of roses from the potpourri.

I have a whole drawer of lacy things and nightgowns. I never wear them anymore. They always look so cute when I buy them but wearing them alone just makes me sad. She looked back at the window. Of course, I might freeze to death wearing anything like that this time of year.

The scent of coffee again tugged at her, and she walked past the tan leather couch and low table, avoiding the dog toys on the floor. At least she got past the point in life where all her furniture came from Ikea. She ran her fingers over the soft leather of the matching loveseat, as if caressing it. She loved the smell. Her dad was right about how much better leather wore, despite its cost.

She stopped walking, pausing to look at the prints on her walls—bright colored scenes of warm places, some she had seen on vacation and some she wanted to see. The knitted throw, in bright reds and yellows on the couch, moved as Alf stirred in his sleep. His soft snores and the gurgle of the coffee maker were the only noise. Even the traffic was muted by the snow.

It was cold enough outside Alf didn’t even want to go out when she woke up. She dragged him out to the little courtyard and on returning he immediately buried himself in the throw. His snores were louder than a dog that size should be. That was her baby, loud even asleep.

Enough woolgathering. She needed to get ready for work.

As she moved into the kitchen following the smell of the coffee, the windows were still dark. The pine table and chairs made a stark picture with the white counters and cabinets, with nothing on the surfaces but her coffee maker and yesterday’s mail. The pastel walls helped but the table needed something. She should buy some flowers to brighten it up. No one else was going to.

Sighing, she poured herself another cup of coffee. There was someone who used to send her flowers. It wasn’t that long ago. Then she realized he was like the other men she had met. A poser. A fraud. Always pretending to be something he wasn’t. It crashed and burned. She learned. Alf was the only male she trusted anymore.

It was lonelier but safer. Her mother worried the cold from the northeast had worked its way into her heart. She didn’t know. She had her job, she did it well and helped people, she had friends like Julie and Rosa, and she had Alf, who loved her unconditionally as dogs do. Not a bad life

And she was the youngest head nurse in the hospital. Surely that made up for the nights alone.

She looked at the clock: time to get dressed and catch the bus to the hospital. It was going to be cold today, but she’d cope. She always did. There was a peacefulness in the snow as it buried things in a cold that matched that of the loneliness in her heart. She would cope. She had too.

Her bedroom opened right off the kitchen. She took her coffee with her and set it down on the white dresser, marred with coffee cup stains from previous mornings. Her furniture here was still Ikea, so maybe she hadn’t grown up so much after all.

The white pine dresser and the queen bed seemed upbeat when she got them. She hadn’t thought how New Jersey’s winters would make white less attractive. A warmer color would have been wiser, but she did like the way the white wood contrasted with the colorful flowered quilt from Grandma.

Kicking off her slippers, she felt the softness of the rug she picked up on vacation in the Southwest. It was soft and tickly and warm. Looking at the tribal patterns, she noted her toes could really use a pedicure. Maybe Julie would want to do a spa day with her?

The flowery scent of the potpourri worked its magic and started cheered her up. It reminded her of the flowers where she was a kid. She had painted the wall that pastel blue herself and never did get around to getting any pictures up. All she had was her family on her overly cluttered dresser. For someone who never went out, she had an awful lot of perfumes and cosmetics.

She sipped the coffee. I’m becoming an addict. Soon I’ll even drink the stuff at work. She shuddered at that. It wasn’t ever this good. The warmth and sweetness of this cup helped drive out the cold.

She walked to the closet, and looking wistfully at the dresses, pulled out her scrubs. Time to brave the cold and get to work. Maybe today would be different. Probably not. It was pretty much administrative duties and problem-solving. At least her floor was reasonably sane. Not like when she had worked the Pedi ER. She didn’t understand how people coped. She had come home nights and cried.

She shook herself and rolled her shoulders to try and get rid of the tension. Being maudlin wasn’t going to help anything. What was that song her mother liked? Hide your crazy. I raised you better. Something like that.

She looked at the scrubs again. Pink today. That would work. I never figured out why I got those yellow scrubs. I look like that pokemon, Pikachu, in them. She rechecked the clock. Still on time. Off to face the day and fight management.

2

The icy wind swirled the snow, stinging Nick’s face as he carefully moved over the treacherous sidewalk. His cowboy boots tended to slip on the ice that had entombed the city, burying it in a grave of silence and cold. He hated winter, and if family hadn’t needed him up here, he’d be happy in Yearly, where this comfortable leather jacket would be adequate for winter. Unlike here in Newark, where it did little to stop the killing cold from stealing the warmth from his joints. But that girl was all he had. Had been for years.

The wind whistled down between the buildings and piled the snowflakes deep against walls and doors, encasing trees in a shroud of frost. The snow covered everything – lawns, shrubs, cars—all of it buried and as frozen as the hearts of the people that lived here. No one smiled. Ever. The cold apparently settled into their souls, chilling them all. As if marrying a Yankee wasn’t bad enough, his baby sister had to move to this frigid place. And now this problem.

He wrapped his scarf tighter, pulled his broad-brimmed Stetson down, and trudged on in deadened silence of the shutdown city. As he slogged through the slippery mess, the snow stuck to his beard and hair, graying the brown even more than his 40 years. Numb fingers curled into loose fists and arms extended for balance, he knew better than to put his hands into his pockets despite how much he wanted to. He trekked on in the dark street, with a shortened stride and careful steps, moving like an old man for fear of falling. He couldn’t afford to get hurt with Annabelle sick.

He had hoped after she married Jim and settled in with his extended family, life would have been kinder to the girl. Things had seemed better for a while. He had gotten used to hearing her sound happy. But now this happened. Poor kid couldn’t catch a good break.

Turning the corner, the entrance to the hospital where his sister was being treated was up ahead. Its lights, glowing brightly thru the falling sticky flakes like a campfire, promised warmth and shelter from the storm. Sane people would have put a parking garage nearby instead of what felt like miles away, but then again, sane people lived someplace warm.

A gust of wind blew snow in his eyes and his boots slid on the sidewalk. The danged flakes kept falling, and it wasn’t supposed to break for another day. His nose was numb now too, and his sense of smell lost to the dryness of the air. Not that Newark had smelled like much other than chemical plants. He plodded forward, drawn by the hope of warmth and the lights shining out in the night. The doors beckoned him on, promising a chance to escape the cold and maybe find a cup of hot coffee. And to see his baby sister, who was all he had left. He was sure the cold had gotten into his bones by now.

Entering the double doors to the reception area, the warmth and smells of the hospital hit him like a wave. Stamping the snow off his boots - they were going to need a good shine after this - and shaking himself like a dog, he noticed the older woman sitting at reception desk across the sterile-looking white room. Carefully, dripping, he headed over and asked Excuse me, if you would be so kind, I like to know what room my little sister is in. The name is Annabelle…Gorie. That’s spelled G-O-R-I-E.

The woman looked at him and smiled as she typed on the keyboard saying, OB/GYN - Room 314. Take the elevators on the left just past the cafeteria.

Heading down the designated hall, the smell of coffee called to him. He turned into the cafeteria and got a paper cup from beside the urn. As the cup filled, the hot liquid warmed his hands as he carried the cup of bitter brew to the cashier. He said, Just this please, if you would, ma’am.

The woman looked hard at him. Where are you from? she said.

Yearly, Texas, ma’am, he answered.

Well, you sure sound like it. What brings a Texas boy up here? the woman asked, A girlfriend?

He grinned and let his accent thicken. No, ma’am. Doubt I could fall for a Yankee, ma’am. Y'all are too strong-willed for me. But I think a nice young lady like you might not be a native.

The woman actually laughed and his face heated at the frankly appraising look she gave him. Young? Go on. What gave me away, cowboy? she asked.

I swear I heard some creole in your voice, ma’am.

You could say that. I was born and raised in Lousiann, and then I met this young Yankee soldier. Thought Mama would die. 4 children later, I live here. These folks ain’t so bad when they’re your kin.

She looked at him and winked.

Best be careful what you say, cowboy, some of these Yankees girls are pretty fiery.

Children? Nick said. I can’t believe you if you lie to me like that, ma’am. I doubt a pretty little thing like you is over twenty-nine.

Oh sugar, twenty-five past me long ago. And call me Lily. I’m not your mama, she said as she laughed, letting the musical creole accent of Lafayette come into her words.

Miss Lily I do say you’re a liar. You can’t be over twenty-five as pretty as you are.

Go on, you flirt, now why are you here? She laughed.

My kid sister is having trouble carrying to term. And, well, she’s… Words failed him.

And you’re worried, she said. Well, if she’s got problems, this is the best place for her. Doctors here are real good. You go see her, and I’ll keep you both in my prayers. She turned to the next customer in line, and Nick moved away.

There were the elevators ahead, and his steps felt lighter and easier. He shuddered at the bitter acidity of the coffee. At least it was warm. The coffee burned his lips and throat but warmed his insides, like the conversation with that Louisiana woman had his heart. He jumped at the ding. Need to stop woolgathering. Another ding and the doors opened to a white area with hallways radiating out from it. In the center was a white and steel counter area with nurses working. In front of it, hugging a tablet like a puppy, a small dark-haired woman in pink scrubs stood glaring at him.

3

The tickling in her nose wasn’t helping. The night cleaning crew was really laying the disinfectant down these days. The tablet weighed her down, more emotionally with its ever-growing list of crises than physically. The bland beige walls with the old whiteboard chart – soon to be replaced with a monitor — all seemed to increase the weight. The nurses scurried about, with their scrubs the only source of color in the central station area. Halls