“True, if it were my diner, it would be decorated far differently and would look more like a salon, but this is fine for me,” she said, lifting her perfect nose slightly. “For now.”
Lin Su knew it wasn’t the diner that drew Winnie and definitely not the decor—it was the women closer to her own age who tended to meet there from time to time. There was Carrie from the deli whose daughter, Gina, managed the diner on the day shift. Carrie’s best friends, Lou, a teacher, and Ray Anne, a local Realtor, were known to meet there, as well. Winnie never asked to be taken to the diner on a whim but if one of the women called or stopped by to say they were meeting for coffee and pie Winnie might ask to go. Better still, if they were meeting at Cliffhanger’s for a glass of wine, she was sure to make the effort, even if she had to impose on Troy or Mikhail to take her, even if she had to rely on her wheelchair for the outing.
“I’ve never had girlfriends before,” Winnie whispered to Lin Su. “You have no idea what a different experience this is for me.”
But Lin Su did know. Her own mother, Marilyn Simmons, would never hang out with a gaggle of women in a small-town diner. Marilyn was her adoptive mother. Her biological mother hadn’t survived long after her exodus from Vietnam, thus Lin Su’s adoption by an affluent white American couple from Boston at the age of three. They liked to refer to it as a compassionate adoption. Marilyn, wife of Gordon Simmons, a well-known attorney, fancied herself something of a socialite. Her biological daughters attended the best boarding schools and universities while she served on charity boards, played bridge, golf, attended prestigious events, supported political campaigns and shopped. No, she had never been seen in a diner with ordinary women.
That was yet another thing about Thunder Point that Lin Su immediately appreciated—people gathered without deference to class or status or income. She knew that Winnie was financially comfortable; most of her home health care patients had been. If they could afford to pay a salary and benefits to a private nurse, they had planned well. And Winnie did look fancier than the town women she’d meet for a coffee or a drink, but the women didn’t treat one another differently.
Lin Su would be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted to fall into familiarity and camaraderie with all of these women—the younger pregnant ones, the older ones she found to be settled and sage. But she was trying to maintain that professional distance that would ensure her job was safe and keep her from being disappointed when the day came that someone reminded her she was a servant. A well-educated and highly trained servant, but still...
Her biggest challenge of all was the triathlete next door. He frightened and intrigued her. He didn’t frighten her because there was anything wrong with him. Indeed, everything seemed too right. He reminded her of the young man she’d loved when she was in high school. The young man who had played rugby, graduated with honors, had a fancy family name and dated Lin Su for months. His parents were friendly with hers; Marilyn Simmons greatly admired the boy’s mother and was thrilled that they were dating. She whispered that it spoke well of them that they could accept an Asian girl as their son’s choice.
But when she had told him she was pregnant, he had said, “Sorry, baby, but I’m going to Princeton.”
She was standing on the deck with Winnie when she heard talking and laughter coming from the house next door, but there was no one on the deck. Winnie was sitting at the outdoor table enjoying the sunshine while she played solitaire to try to keep her fingers nimble. Lin Su looked over the deck rail and saw that Charlie was balanced atop one of Blake’s bikes while Blake appeared to be tightening something on the wheel. Then Blake stood up and Charlie took off down the beach road.
Like a bat out of hell.
Lin Su gasped. Her son flew on that bike. Flew as though he was racing!
“Winnie, will you be all right for a moment? I should talk to Mr. Smiley about Charlie riding.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m not going anyplace.”
“I’ll be right back,” Lin Su said, heading for the stairs to the beach. By the time she got to where Blake stood on the road, Charlie was out of sight across the beach.
“Mr. Smiley, it’s so nice of you to let Charlie have a turn on your bicycle. But maybe that’s not such a good idea.”
“It’s Blake. And why is that, Lin Su?”
“For one thing, it’s a very expensive bicycle. At least, that’s what Charlie tells me.”
“It is. It’s not my primary bike.” He tossed a tool in his open toolbox. “He’s safe. He’s wearing a helmet. We talked about the rules of the road and he understands.”
“Did Charlie happen to mention—he has asthma?”
“No. Is he on medication?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have an inhaler?”
“He’s supposed to have it with him at all times. And sometimes exertion brings on his asthma.”
Blake gave a little shrug. “Then if he gets winded, I guess he’ll stop.”
“Where is he going?”
“I have no idea, Lin Su. I told him not to be gone long. He really likes that bike. He’ll probably ride around awhile.”
“He could get too far away!” she said.
Blake wiped his hands on a rag and contemplated her. “He’s a big boy. He knows how to manage his asthma, doesn’t he?”
“Sometimes he’s not as careful as he should be!” she said emphatically.
Blake dropped a casual arm over her shoulders and turned her in the direction of the town across the bay. He pointed. “See that building over there?”
“Which building?” she asked.
“The one that says Clinic on the sign. If he has an asthma attack, this is a good place to have one. But I bet he doesn’t. You know why? Because I bet he doesn’t like asthma much and he’s fourteen—it probably embarrasses him. Don’t worry. In a few minutes he’ll either come riding across the beach at breakneck speed or he’ll be flushed and walking the bike.”
“You’re a little too casual about this for my tastes, Mr. Smiley. You don’t seem to understand how difficult something like this can be. And I’m the parent here—I’m a nurse, a mother and very well acquainted with Charlie’s condition.”
He took a deep breath and frowned. “Lin Su, my name is Blake not Mr. Smiley. As far as I know there is no Mr. Smiley. And I take things like this very seriously. At the end of the day it could be more beneficial to Charlie to have respect for the asthma, work with it, refuse to let it stop him and get to know his body if he doesn’t already. Being overprotective isn’t going to help. Knowledge helps. Fear doesn’t.”
Lin Su felt her hackles rise. She wanted to take him down. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Fantastic little lecture, Mr. Smiley. You should do a TED Talk someday. You have no idea what it was like sitting up through the night when he was three years old, doing breathing treatments every couple of hours, holding him while he strained to get a breath, watching him get that blue tinge, putting him in the ambulance. He has to be cautious!”
She saw what clearly looked like sympathy come into his gaze. “You must have been terrified,” he said. “The good news is, he isn’t three anymore.”
Lin Su’s anger grew even though Blake’s voice was gentle.
“Ah, there he is,” Blake said. “He’s really moving.”
Charlie was speeding, head down, peddling madly. He slowed as he came upon them, his grin wide as the sky. He had his mother’s perfect, straight white teeth.
“That was awesome,” he said to Blake. He was huffing and puffing a little. “Mom, what are you doing here? Winnie all right?”
“She’s fine. Are you having trouble catching your breath?” Lin Su asked.
“I’m winded,” he said. “I rode hard. Not long, though. I’ll be fine in a second.”
“Do you need y
our inhaler?”
“Mom,” he said. “I’m fine.” But then he coughed.
“Charlie, I don’t want you...”
“Charlie, do you have any major plans for that laptop of yours for tonight?” Blake asked, cutting her off.
Charlie shrugged. “No, why?”
“I think you should research famous athletes with asthma,” Blake said. “You’ll run across some familiar names and get some good ideas.”
* * *
Charlie coughed on and off through the rest of the afternoon and because of that Grace offered to settle her mother in for the night so Lin Su could take her son home. On the way home she lightly berated him. “You shouldn’t have taken the hard ride. A long walk or a ride on a paddleboard is one thing—a burst of exercise could haunt you.”
“It’s not an asthma attack. Trust me, I’d know.” He coughed again. “It’ll pass.”
“We’ll do a breathing treatment,” she said.
“I’ll do it,” Charlie said. “I just wish you liked him. Because he’s a good guy.”
“Mr. Smiley?” she asked, though of course she knew. “I like him fine. He was being very neighborly, loaning you the bike for a ride. But he didn’t know about the asthma. That’s your responsibility, Charlie.”
“Then let me have it,” he said tersely.
Mr. Smiley, she found herself thinking, is going to be a problem. He was encouraging this free thinking, letting Charlie learn from his consequences, and he didn’t understand that in Charlie’s case the consequences could be fatal.
Well, probably not, she relented. Worst case, a manageable asthma attack, relieved by a nebulizer and maybe some oxygen. But she was suddenly desperate that Charlie listen first to her.
“It’s not going to kill me, you know,” Charlie said as if reading her mind. “Sometimes I have a little breathing thing, not very often. I haven’t had one of these in a long time.”
“May,” she said. “When everything was in bloom. And it got a little dicey.”
“Because it turned into a cold. This could be just a cold, you know. I felt a little stuffy before I took the bike out.”
Lin Su said nothing as she drove. But she counted his coughs, which had become deep and gravelly. He wasn’t wheezing. Yet. They were almost home when she said, “I don’t appreciate your attitude toward me, as if I’m somehow punishing you. I’m going to make you some soup while you take a hot shower with lots of steam. Then you come out, eat soup and give the water heater time to heat up again and get back in the steam. After that we’ll do a breathing treatment. How many times have you used the inhaler?”
“Just twice.”
“Let’s see if we can nip this in the bud, okay, Charlie?”
He nodded. “Sorry, Mom. The bike was so awesome.”
“I know, honey.” She wanted to carry on about the use of some discretion to keep this asthma in check but she knew he’d heard enough. And maybe Mr. Smiley was partially right—he might learn more this way, from the consequences, than from her harping. He’d heard it all before. But damned if she’d ever admit that.
They carried out the plan—shower, soup, shower, treatment. After all that, he started to sniff a little and she hoped it was a little cold rather than an attack, even though that presented a different set of problems. If these symptoms persisted it would be wrong to take him back to Winnie’s. She shouldn’t be exposed to germs if it could be avoided. With all the people in and through Winnie’s house it was risky enough—her nurse couldn’t bring a known virus into the patient’s home.
Then she had a slightly evil thought. It would serve him right to have to spend a day at home as a result of his less than responsible actions, even though she knew it wasn’t possible for a bike ride to bring on a cold. He should learn to listen to her. So you want it to be a cold, Charlie, and not your overtaxed weak lungs—a cold, it is. And you have to stay home. Away from your playmates for a day.
Lin Su heard every cough through the night. It wasn’t too bad—it wasn’t getting worse, he had no fever, it was a productive cough and he wasn’t wheezing. She gave him another breathing treatment first thing in the morning, checked his temperature, then double-checked with her lips on his forehead. “I think you’re going to be fine. But it’s the responsible thing to leave you home today. I don’t want Winnie and the rest of the family to hear that coughing and get anxious about germs. You understand.”
“Yeah, okay. But will you please tell everyone I’m fine? That I’m not having any kind of attack or anything?”
“Of course. I’ll explain it’s just a precaution for Winnie’s health in case you’re coming down with a cold. Will that do?”
“Yeah. It’s just that... If Blake thinks the bike did it, he’ll never let me try it out again.”
Lin Su doubted that. Actually, she feared that. Blake was coming across as a challenge, as the guy who wanted to let Charlie be a man about it. Her poor little bubble boy—she wouldn’t want to have to live like that, either. But God, what if something terrible happened? And it could—his fragile lungs, his intense allergies, his stressed immune system... “Of course we’ll play the cold card here. And if you get another chance on that bike or any bike, let’s decide here and now that you’re not going to check it for maximum speed. Can we agree to that?”
“That bike is so slick, Mom. No wonder it cost a billion dollars!”
Lin Su sat on the edge of his bed. “Charlie, your health has been good lately. Keep it so. Build up some stamina, get strong, live long. Use that remarkable brain of yours to get ahead and buy a dozen billion-dollar bicycles when you’ve overcome the worst of this. But go slow.”
He grinned. “You just want me to live a long time so you have some rich guy to take care of you in your old age.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said. “I’ll text and call. Try to take it easy today. I’m sure by tomorrow you’ll be fine.”
This was the lot of a single mother—making a choice between her job, which was vital, and her sick child, the core of her being. If he were younger than fourteen she might have asked one of the elderly neighbors to watch him or at least check on him, but at fourteen Charlie would be offended. Hell, at eleven he was offended! He knew the rules, he was responsible. Still...she wanted to be near...
* * *
Blake suited up for his swim, grateful that the sun was shining brightly on the bay even though it was early, mindful of the fact that the water was still going to be freezing cold. He put in his hour and was surprised Charlie wasn’t waiting on the steps for him to get out of the water. It briefly crossed his mind that his mother was keeping him away from Blake, the troublemaker with the tempting bike.
He had planned a long run for today but he switched out his plan—he took the bike on a long ride instead. The riding speed was going to be crucial in the upcoming race. When he got back, there was still no sign of Charlie and there was no one out on the deck at Winnie’s house. Not even Winnie and her nurse.
Lin Su. The first time he saw her he had actually felt his breath catch. All he could see of her was that she was small, wore scrubs and had black hair twisted into some kind of bun. She had laughed with Winnie and Grace, and even though it was at some distance he could see she was beautiful.
Lin Su was intriguing and now, unfortunately, she appeared to be a little angry with him. He wouldn’t necessarily do things differently with Charlie and the bike. He might’ve asked him if it would be all right with his mother or, had he known about the asthma, he might’ve suggested he go easy. Then again, he might not. Blake was no expert, but boys that age needed to find their own limits.
Charlie was nowhere in sight.
By the time Blake had showered and put on clean clothes, there were people on Winnie’s deck. Troy and Mikhail and Winnie were sitting at the outside table. He went downstairs
inside his own house, out through the patio doors of his lower level and next door to walk up the outside stairs to Winnie’s deck.
“Incoming,” he hollered, walking up the last few steps.
“Hey, man,” Troy said, standing. “Come on up. How’s it going?”
“Good. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“We’re just getting ready to wax Winnie in bridge,” Troy said. “Bridge because she won’t play poker.”
“You’re not at school today?” Blake asked Troy.
“I was there this morning and will help Grace at the shop this afternoon. Not much more summer left. You play bridge?”
“Sorry,” he said, grinning. “I was wondering about Charlie. I think this is the first day since I moved in that I haven’t seen him hanging around.”
At that moment Lin Su came onto the deck with a tray of drinks—two cups of tea and two tall glasses of something. One of the cups had a straw in it for Winnie. “He stayed home today,” she said in answer to the question. “He might be coming down with a cold and we’re diligent about keeping germs out of here when we can for Winnie’s sake.”
“It took a lot more than a cold to take me down,” Winnie said.
“A cold wouldn’t help you, however. Can I get you something to drink, Blake?” she asked.
He was ridiculously pleased that she used his first name. He could feel his smile grow to an almost silly width. “No, thank you. I just finished a ride. I hope that cold wasn’t because...you know...”
She put the tray on the table. “He’s had a good summer. An asthma episode can’t bring on a cold but a cold can weaken his resistance to asthma. He seems to be fine—just some congestion and a cough.” She pulled up a chair for Blake and then took one herself, passing out the drinks. “Exercise-induced asthma is probably to be expected since he has a history, but I’ll tell you what’s frightening—when a big attack comes on for no apparent reason. That hasn’t happened in a long time.” She took a sip of her tea. “I’ll leave him home till he’s completely over it.”