3 Savor (4 page)

He leaned closer and lowered his
voice still more. “Anything is possible when it comes to a turf war. And living
in yuppyville wine country doesn’t make you exempt from danger.”

“I don’t like your tone, Mr.
Alvarez.” Billie stood up and faced him. “The police never said anything about
the crash being more than… an
accident
.
So I have to wonder what it is you think you know, and why you sound as though
you’re threatening me.”

He ran a hand over his
close-cropped hair. “I’m not threatening you. I’m trying to warn you.”

“About what?”

“If the Maras think you know
something, whether you do or not –” He broke off and shook his head.
“Just be careful. Handel’s my friend. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to his
wife on my watch.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not your
responsibility.”

He got up and held out his business
card. “Take this. If you think of anything or Handel wakes up, give me a call.”

When she didn’t respond, he leaned
down and placed it on the bench. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker.”

She watched him walk away, head up,
muscular arms swinging slow and relaxed at his sides; the slow saunter of a
confident man. Manny Alvarez was an enigma. Did he really want to help Handel
or was he only seeking revenge for his sister’s murder? And why did she feel
there was a whole lot more he wasn’t saying?

Billie snatched up the card and
hurried back inside the hospital. Margaret and Davy would be wondering where
she’d disappeared. She couldn’t get what Alvarez said out of her head. Was
Handel’s accident actually something more sinister? Did it make any difference?
He was still in a coma and she was still locked in this surreal world where she
could see and touch him, but not actually be with him.

The nurse at the station outside
Handel’s room waved her over when she stepped out of the elevator. “Billie,
your visitors went downstairs to get a bite to eat. They said to join them if
you got back soon.”

“Thanks, Chris.” She had been here
long enough to be on a first name basis with most of the nurses. She forced a
smile. “Hope you warned them off the green Jell-O salad. Those little grated
carrots can get stuck in your throat.”

“Especially when you’re having a
laughing fit.” Chris shook her head, giggling as she remembered the
conversation at lunch the day before. “When you told me what your mother said,
I almost blew some pieces through my nose.”

“I’m glad it didn’t come to that,”
Billie said, smiling. “How long ago did they leave for lunch?”

Chris slipped one hand in the
pocket of her blue scrubs and leaned on the desk with her other hand. “Oh,
about fifteen minutes ago,” she said.

“Thanks.” Billie moved past the
desk and opened the door to Handel’s room. His face was pale under the hospital
lights. She wondered how he could possibly sleep with the continual glare
against his eyelids. He preferred total darkness when he slept. He would even
cover the little red glowing light on the flat screen television because it
kept him awake.

She stepped inside and closed the
door, flipped off the light and moved beside him. It didn’t make the room
completely dark, but at least it wasn’t glaring. She watched him breathe, his
chest moving slightly up and down as his lungs expanded and deflated. They’d
taken him off the ventilator tube on Wednesday. She’d nearly panicked, worried
that without the oxygen he would stop breathing. Dr. Teledaga assured her that
his lungs were strong and he was ready to breathe on his own.

Cupping Handel’s whisker rough
cheeks with her hands, she bent and kissed his lips. “Handy, I need you,” she
whispered close to his mouth. “I don’t know what to do.”

He made no movement at her
ministrations, but the darkness felt intimate, and she could imagine he was
listening. “Your private investigator friend came by. He doesn’t seem to
believe your crash was an accident. He thinks it has something to do with
gangs.” She brushed his hair back, letting her fingers linger along his ear. “I
told him I didn’t know anything. And I’m sorry, Handy. I’m so sorry.” A tear
dripped off her nose. “We’re partners in this marriage, but I don’t act like
it. I don’t mean to shut you out, but I do. What’s wrong with me? I thought I
was past the trust issue thing.”

There was a soft knock on the door
and Billie dashed the tears from her face. She straightened as Margaret opened
the door.

“Can I come in?” she asked
hesitantly.

“Of course. Where’s Davy?”

“He stopped off to wash his hands.
He had a jelly donut and the jelly attacked him.”

Billie smiled. “I love that kid.”

Margaret let the door swing shut
behind her. She stood quietly, waiting.

“Thanks,” Billie said.

“For what?”

“For not asking what’s wrong.”

She shrugged. “I know what’s wrong.
Handel has always been there for me too and now the tables are turned and
there’s nothing I can do. Except wait.”

Davy pushed through the door,
managing to smack Margaret before she could move out of the way. “Sorry, Mom.”

“Slow down. This is a hospital, you
know.”

“Okay, I just wanted to tell you
guys what I saw in the…” his voice trailed off and his eyes widened as he
stared past Billie.

Hope caught in her throat. She
turned and met the cloudy gaze of the love of her life. “Handy,” she barely
breathed the word, afraid she’d wake and it would be another dream.

“Why’s the lights off?” Davy asked,
and flipped the switch up.

Handel’s eyelids fluttered closed,
and he groaned softly.

“Get the nurse!” Billie ordered.

Davy threw open the door and
yelled, “911! My uncle’s awake!”

Margaret didn’t even bother to
reprimand him, she was so busy looking at her brother and sobbing.

Billie didn’t cry. He was awake. It
was time to rejoice. She raised his hand to her cheek and said the words she’d
not had the chance to say before his surgery. “I’m here, Handy. I’ll always be
here. I love you.”

Handel managed to talk the doctors
into signing his release on Monday. He was still moving gingerly about, but the
surgical procedure that Doctor Teledaga performed when he was brought in,
inserting titanium plates to stabilize his broken ribs, made it much easier to
breathe and move about without excessive pain. He actually thought he’d be
ready to return to court in another week. Billie had her doubts about that.

She shook her head as she watched
him dress in his street clothes. He winced as he bent to pull up his slacks,
but when his eyes met hers, he smiled. She took the newly pressed, blue, oxford
dress shirt off the hanger she’d brought and helped him into it, then slowly
buttoned it for him while he stood submissively still. His grin was contagious
and she smiled back, thrilled he was coming home to her even though she was
leery of him leaving the hospital so soon.

“What are you so happy about?” she
teased. “With your broken ribs, this is as close to making love as you’re going
to get for about four months.”

“Say it isn’t so,” he bent his head
and nuzzled the side of her neck, sending a tingle down her spine. “A couple
broken ribs can’t stop the love lawyer.”

She breathed out a laugh and pushed
his head back, holding his face between her hands. His blue eyes twinkled, but
she grew serious. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. Promise me.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice light
and carefree as he moved in to kiss her.

“No. I mean it,” she said, dropping
her hands and stepping away for clarity. She knew it was insane to ask for
something so intangible, but she couldn’t help it.

He reached out and drew her close
again, slid his hands slowly up her arms as though his touch was a promise. “Do
you want that notarized?” he asked, his voice gentle with understanding.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His lips moved over hers and she
kissed him back as passionately as a woman could with three inches of space
between them to spare his broken ribs. She felt a tear drop on her nose and
slide off. She pulled back. “What?” she asked, alarmed by his show of emotion.
Was he in pain?

“I thought I lost you,” he
murmured. “I dreamed you left me and went back to Minnesota. That you didn’t
love me or California anymore.” His brows drew together in a frown of
confusion. “That sounded really girly, didn’t it?”

“The doctor did say your pain meds
might make you act a little loopy.” She grinned. “At least that’s your story
and we’re sticking to it.”

“Got it.”

He picked up his overnight bag, but
she took it from him. “No lifting. Save your strength for tonight.”

“That sounds promising.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I was
talking about all the people who will drop by to welcome you home.”

“After sleeping for a week, I’m
sure I can handle a little conversation.”

“If you say so. I’m betting you’ll
be in bed by seven o’clock.”

“Only if you’re there with me.”

There was a rap at the door and
Chris stuck her head in. “Ready to check out of here?” she asked, holding the
door open to push a wheelchair through.

Handel frowned. “I’m fine. Really.
I don’t need that.”

“That’s what they all say.” Chris
flipped the metal feet pedals down and motioned toward the chair like Vanna
White presenting a fabulous new car. “But we don’t take chances,” she quirked
her eyebrows, “especially with lawyers.”

 
“That is so unfair.” He shook his head.
“Lawyers get such a bad rap. We’re verbally abused on a regular basis. Ninety
percent of the things we’re accused of are totally bogus.”

Chris rolled her eyes. “Ten percent
should get you put in jail,” she said.

Billie stifled a grin and waited
for Handel to sit down. Then she set the bag on his lap and picked up her
purse. “We’re out of here.”

“Good riddance, I say,” Handel
stage whispered back at her. “This place is a real snoozer.”

•••••

Billie wasn’t surprised when they
pulled up outside the house and saw Sally and Loren over by the winery sitting
at one of the picnic tables. It was past closing time but they were obviously
waiting around to welcome Handel home from the hospital. They waved and started
toward them.

Handel had the door of the car open
before Billie had shut off the ignition. He struggled to climb out, wincing a
bit when he twisted to stand. She knew he was stiff and sore from sitting for
so long, but he wore his usual good-natured grin. “Hey, you two! Come on over
and celebrate!” he called. “I’m pretty sure we have a bottle of wine around
here somewhere.”

Billie wanted to hurry around and
help him inside but he was having none of it. He shook Loren’s hand and let
Sally give him a kiss on the cheek in lieu of a hug, then gestured them toward
the house. “Join the party.”

Billie grabbed the bags and hurried
to open the front door. She hadn’t been home for two weeks and couldn’t
remember what state she’d left the house in. Not that it was ever very messy
with just the two of them. But she was her mother’s daughter and it was drilled
into her at a young age that you didn’t invite people over if you hadn’t
cleaned from top to bottom. She unlocked the door and flipped the hall light
on. So far so good.

“I at least expected Margaret and
Davy to show up,” Handel was saying behind her. “Where is that little rugrat?
He’s usually hanging around so much we can’t get rid of him.”

“I think Margaret was going to
watch Adam play tonight at some club downtown,” Billie said, holding the door
open. “I’m sure she would be here if she hadn’t already promised.”

“Loren and I are heading over there
later tonight too,” Sally added. “Your brother needs some friendly faces in the
crowd. Thought we’d boost his ego by pretending to be fans.”

Loren shook his head. “Be nice.”

“It was a joke,” Sally said. “Karok
Indians don’t have much of a sense of humor, do they?” she teased, slipping an
arm around him as they came through the door.

Billie waved a hand toward the
living room. “You guys go on in and sit down. I’ll get the wine.”

They didn’t get two steps further
before “Surprise!” rang out and people popped up from behind furniture like a
team of synchronized Jack-in-the-boxes. Margaret, Davy, Adam – even Carl
was there. That’s when Billie noticed the banner hanging across the fireplace.
In bright red and blue crayon colored letters it said,
Welcome Home, Uncle Handel!

Davy was the first to rush over.
Margaret must have already warned him to be careful of Handel’s injuries
because he didn’t throw himself at him like he usually did, expecting to
wrestle on the floor or play kickboxing. Instead, he handed him a neatly
wrapped present and waited expectantly. His grin was wide and toothy, showing
an early overlapping problem he’d soon need braces for. “Open it!” he urged, with
a ten-year-old’s impatience. “Mom and me found it at an antique store on the
way home the other day. She said it would be perfect for your collection.”

Margaret gave Handel a careful side
hug and kissed his cheek. “Welcome home, big brother,” she said. They exchanged
a look that bespoke their strong connection as siblings; those who had gone
through hard times together and come out the other side.

He wrapped an arm around her and
pressed his cheek to hers. “Thanks, Meg.”

Billie already knew that Margaret
had found a beautiful old fountain pen, trimmed in gold and onyx. It was even
engraved with Handel’s initials, although later, when the shopkeeper packed it
in the storage box, she learned those letters stood for Henrietta Peterson. The
original owner’s full name was carved into the lid in a feminine font. But that
didn’t dampen Margaret’s excitement. It was a one-of-a-kind find and she knew
her brother would go crazy for it.

They waited to see his expression
and it was priceless. Eyes wide with excitement, he stared at the pen in the
box, looking much like Davy did on Christmas morning. Billie looked over his
shoulder at the bulbous black and gold pen lying on a bed of red satin. It
looked expensive.

“Wow! I don’t believe it. This is a
1912 Pregnant Parker!” He glanced at his sister and back to the pen. “Where did
you find it? And how can you afford it?”

“Pregnant Parker?” Sally looked at
Billie and started laughing.

“Because of the shape,” he
explained, not detracted from his perusal of the writing object. He lifted the
pen out and handed Davy the box. “They started making these eyedropper filled
fountain pens back in the early 1900s. This is an amazing find! I love it!” He
grinned, elated.

Margaret made an exaggerated
expression of relief, pretending to wipe sweat from her brow. “Whew! That’s
good. Cause you may have to help me pay for it. My credit card is maxed out.”

“Fine with me,” he said, as though
she’d just asked him to pay a parking ticket. “The gift is in finding it. This
is a rare and beautiful work of art. A perfect addition to my collection.”

Billie loved the look of happiness
in her husband’s eyes. “Awesome. Another box to gather dust,” she teased.
“While you all practice your penmanship, I’ll get the wine.”

She hurried to the kitchen, a secret
smile curving her lips.

Carl joined her a couple minutes
later and opened the wine while she set glasses out on a tray. He showed her
the containers of pasta he’d brought and put in the refrigerator for her and
Handel. “Louis Linguini and Ziti Alla Nicolina. Handel’s favorites,” he said
with a shrug. “Pasta is good for getting strength back.”

“Thank you, Carl. That was very
sweet of you.”

He didn’t seem in any hurry to
return to the party. Leaning against the counter with arms crossed, he shook
his head slowly, dark eyes glinting in the overhead light. “I thought for a bit
there that we’d lost him,” he admitted. “We grew up together you know. Like
brothers. Almost family. Thank God he made it. I don’t know what I would have
done.”

If anybody needed a hug, it was
Carl. She put her arms around him and he hugged her warmly back. “You’re not
almost family, Carl. You
are
family.”

“I see you don’t need my help in
here,” Handel spoke from the doorway.

Carl released her like she was a
hot potato. She turned around to find her husband grinning at them like an
idiot on painkillers. He laughed at Carl’s discomfiture. “Don’t mind me. I’m
just the invalid husband.”

“If you saw what he brought us for
dinner, you wouldn’t be giving him such a hard time. What do you think I was
hugging him for? Not for his handsome Italian looks, that’s for sure.”

“Ziti Alla Nicolina?” Handel asked
expectantly using his best Italian accent.

Carl laughed and lifted the wine
bottle. He poured a glass for Handel. “Maybe.”

“Don’t get him all excited, Carl.
He’ll start drooling like a puppy. He hasn’t had anything to eat but soup and
Jell-O since he woke up.”

“Mama Mia! How horrible for you. A
man without food and wine is an empty vessel.” He grinned and handed Billie a
glass of wine as well.

“So true.” Handel carefully swirled
the wine in his glass and breathed in the bouquet. “I have a feeling this would
pair magnificently well with a plate of Ziti,” he said wistfully.”

“A toast first.” Carl raised his
glass. “To second chances and living life to the fullest.”

“Second chances!” Handel and Billie
echoed.

“I wondered where you guys
disappeared to. You’re back here swilling all the wine. Figures,” Sally said,
her voice droll. She pushed a stray lock of red hair behind her ear, grinning.
The others were right behind her. “See,” she said, waving a hand toward the
three of them, “I told you they’d started without us.”

Crowding into the kitchen, everyone
grabbed a glass and Carl poured the wine. He opened another bottle and they
each made a toast, getting sillier and sillier until they were all laughing so
hard Handel clutched his chest and begged them to stop.

Davy had his glass filled with
apple juice and when it was his turn, lifted it high. “To Uncle Handel,” he
said. “I hope I’m as tough as you someday. You totaled your Porsche and didn’t
even cry.”

Everybody laughed except Handel. He
glanced at Billie, hoping for denial but getting confirmation. “My Porsche?
Totaled?”

She shrugged. “Sorry, hon. I
thought you knew. I mean… what did you think happened to it?”

Everybody grew silent, watching him
as though he’d lost it.

The doctors hadn’t found any signs
of long-term brain damage, but they said he might experience short-term memory
loss until he’d had time to heal. She didn’t remember discussing the accident
with him after he woke. The doctors kept him so busy with tests and therapy for
the past two days that when they managed to have time alone, they didn’t want
to talk about why he was there. Instead they made plans to go away together for
a vacation as soon as the trial was over. They talked about fixing up the
house, maybe getting a dog, although Handel was still on the fence about that.
Plans for the future.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t
really think about it at all.” He set his glass down on the table and ran his
fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “No Porsche, huh?”

Billie met his eyes and smiled.
“It’s not all bad. You have a new pen.”

•••••

When everyone had gone, Handel let
Billie talk him into getting in bed while she cleaned up. She could tell that
even though it hadn’t lasted long, the party had exhausted him. The lines
around his mouth were etched a little deeper and she wondered if they were from
the pain of his broken ribs or what his near death experience had wrought.