Calm, Cool, and Adjusted (24 page)

What on earth does God want from me?

“All right,” I say when I open my eyes. “I’ll wait for the cast.”

“Go up the hall; they’re waiting for you.”

“You’re not taking me in the wheelchair?”

“No, I’m not. Right now, I want to run you down with the wheelchair, so I think it’s best that you just walk gently down there.”

“Such a bedside manner, Sarah.”

“You are beyond irritating, Poppy. Jerry loves you like a daughter, and you show him contempt every chance you get, as if to tell him his entire career doesn’t measure up. You don’t deserve him. Go get your cast. If you play your cards right Jerry will take it off before the wedding. Though if I got a vote, your leg wouldn’t see the light of day until your wedding, and it’s going to be a cold day down under—”

“Sarah!”

She rips off the code numbers for the cast and thrusts it into my hand. “Just try to make another appointment and see how far you get.”

I should have known I couldn’t solve the embarrassment factor for Morgan. Sure, Lilly’s dressing me. Sure, I’m bringing a plastic surgeon, but I’m Poppy Clayton, and I will always find a way to humiliate my friends. This time in the form of an untimely cast.

I’ve been planning this for a year, and I’m in the shape of my life to do it, so I’m not letting a little toe get in my way. As I’m limping down the hallway to get my cast, I see the convertible, giggly blonde who’s always trying to sell Jeff more than the medical wares in her bag. She’s flirting outrageously with an older doctor who could be her father, and coyly speaking with her chin turned downward. It’s the exact same pose she struck on Sunday with Jeff. She’s like the Madonna
Vogue
video come to life.

She’s wearing a crisp white suit, tailored so tightly it’s nearly obscene. I wonder what Lilly would think of that—if it’s in style or as pathetic as it looks to me. But I’m fascinated by the way this woman moves. She gives off the air that they’ll be heading to the bedroom after the discussion, and while I don’t think she’s that type, I can’t help but wonder why she would want to appear to be. If I had the personal expertise she seems to possess, I would most certainly use my power for good.

I’m trying to be subtle in my fascination with her, but she spots me and I hear her tell the doctor, “Excuse me, Hal.”

As the doctor turns around, I see it’s Hal Halperin, who always was the sort who seemed to have no interest in the medical profession other than how much he could spend on the golf course. He nods at me, and I wave. “Hi, Dr. Halperin.”
You jerk
, I think to myself. Okay, that was definitely bad energy.

She appears at my side. “Hi, hi, do you remember me?”

“Yes, of course I remember you. Are you feeling better about life?”

“I am. My husband and I have decided to give it another try; isn’t that great?”

Not if you plan to be flirting like that, it’s not.
“Yeah, really great. What God puts together, let no man put asunder.”
I can’t believe I just said that.

Having her this close to me, I find her eyes are nearly turquoise. She is truly exquisite to look at, and it’s no wonder men pay homage to her beauty. She’s stunning. But her confidence is a thin veneer; her desperate nature is apparent to all who would care to look closely. Some women never stop fighting to be at society’s popular table.

“Well,” I say, backing up. “It was nice to see you again.”

“No, wait,” she grabs my arm. “There’s a reason I stopped you. I wanted to ask you something.”

“I have a doctor’s appointment.” I point towards the hall.

“It won’t take a minute, and they always make you wait, anyway. Give them a taste of their own medicine. No pun intended.” She laughs at her own joke. “Besides, I probably have their medicine in my bag.”

I look down at the bag of pharmaceuticals she carries around, and let’s just say, it’s not exactly warming the cockles of my heart. “Sure, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I noticed when I’m at Jeff’s office, you run a lot.”

This statement makes my toes ache. “Yeah, I’m training for a half triathlon. The Tinman on Oahu.”

“Yeah, I’m not interested in anything like that, but I wondered if you might be willing to run with me. I know I’d be slow at first, but I’m really competitive, and I’d catch up quickly. I’d pay you.”

Her request catches me totally off guard. She doesn’t exactly seem the girlfriend type, and the first time we met she sort of laughed at my offer of help. The second time, she flirted outrageously with Jeff right in front of me. And then she kissed Simon in my office and I don’t care how much she was paid! Not that any of this matters of course, but still.

“Actually, I have a stress fracture and I can’t run for some time.”
Woo-hoo! Sometimes pain is convenient!
“I’m on my way to get a cast right now.” Looking at her beautiful yet disappointed features, I really feel this tinge of empathy. Lilly would tell me that was my problem, but my greatest desire, besides bringing people to Christ, is to bring them to health, and I would love to do this for Blondie. She’s obviously no couch potato, but if she’s peddling pharmaceuticals for a living, there’s a lot I could teach her.

“Look,” she says. “I know you were angry the other day about Jeff—”

“Wait a minute, mad about Jeff?”

“That’s just a part of the way I do business. I have no interest in Jeff Curran or any other doctor. Doctors bore me.”

“Angry? I think you have the wrong person. Why would I be angry about you and Jeff?” Really, I just want to wring your neck for touching Simon, but only because any good woman would have done it for free.

“You slammed your office door pretty hard. I thought maybe you liked him.”

“Oh that. Well, I was just waiting for him to go to church, and—”

“Here’s my card.” She takes out a business card and hands me her name.

Chloe Stanlis
Pharmaceutical Sales

I pull out one of my own, which lists all the specialty medicine I perform. Sort of the anti-drug card.

Poppy Clayton, DC
Chiropractic Care
Clinical Nutrition
Allergy Elimination
Holistic Healing

“Right.” She puts it away in her obviously expensive briefcase pocket, clearly unwilling to ask what anything means. “So when will you be running again? My husband and I are getting remarried, to show our reconciliation, and I have to get into a dress.”

Gosh, I’d be worrying about how to not scream at him publicly before I’d be worrying about the dress, but that’s just me.

Granted, I want to ask her, “Do I look like a personal trainer?” But of course, if she said no, I’d be doubly offended. I’m just going to chalk this up to a God encounter and make the most of it.

“I’m not actually sure when I’ll be running again. I’m hoping I can rig something up where I can run regardless of the cast. I’m not missing my trip to Hawaii. In the meantime, do you have a friend to run with?”

“Look at me.” She runs her hands down her figure; all that’s missing is the Vanna twirl to show me the dress. “No, I don’t have friends. Women don’t like me.”

Did she just say that?
“Well, I am a woman.”

“But it’s obvious you don’t care about appearance.”

I cough and sputter here looking for the right words. First, I hear about mineral makeup and now this. I can be friends with the pretty girl because I don’t care. What does that make me, chopped tofu?

“Just how exactly do you sell things?”

“What?” she asks.

“Usually salespeople are good with the whole buttering-up scenario, schmoozing. What’s with the homely-girl accusation.”

“I never said you were homely. You’ve got that natural beauty. Dr. Jeff sure seems smitten and that’s you without makeup. I just mean it’s obvious you don’t care or you’d wear makeup and make the most of yourself. Right now, you just look plain so no one notices. Like when they catch a Hollywood star without her makeup.”

This is getting worse.
“I have to go get my cast.”

“No wait, Poppy. You said if I needed anything to call you. Didn’t you mean that?”

I put her card in my tapestry bag. “Call me. I’ll let you know how it goes with the cast.”

I am seriously up a creek.

I can’t imagine how I’ll run the triathlon.

Morgan will have a casted bridesmaid—which will bug Lilly, too, since it’s her design I’m wearing at the wedding.

Dr. Jeff thinks I have a crush on him. And so does Chloe.

Simon’s trying to lure me to Hawaii by restoring my house in Santa Cruz.

In three months I won’t have an office.

And I’ve been accused of being angry three times today.

Well, uh, yeah!

chapter 18

Miles run: 0

Laps swum: 0

Desperation scale: 8

I
’ve had a long morning of prayer. The Bible says that plans fail for lack of counsel. I’m certainly not at a loss for counsel. My friends are more than willing to give me an earful, though it usually involves a discussion on a Poppy makeover first: “Can we talk after I put some makeup on you?” However, I do trust my counsel—and if Morgan and Lilly think I’m a little off, well, it’s most likely true. The thing is I take pride in that. Anyone can play normal. It takes someone special to be her weird self. I think, from the flurry of phone calls today, my friends are hoping I can hold my weirdness in small doses for my date with running man. I do not have a good feeling about this. And maybe I’m sabotaging myself, but there’s something about a blind date that someone picked up off the beach.

It doesn’t remotely sound romantic as that tale you tell when you’re relaying how you met. “Like a discarded clam shell, Max found him along Ocean Beach.” Insert tinkling laughter. See? It just doesn’t work. My friends will coach me on proper date etiquette, anyway.

“Act coy,” they’ll say.

“Wear makeup,” Morgan will say.

“Wear the Nike running pants, not the sweats,” Lilly will add.

All this in the hopes that I, Poppy Clayton, can play normal long enough to lure a man into my lair. The entire process cracks me up.

As far as strange goes, I do not have the corner on this market, and it’s time my friends knew it. Driving up 280 toward San Francisco, my car just wants to stop and park near Crystal Springs Reservoir to take a run. But the cast reminds me that’s impossible and that my friends are waiting for me. Soon, I’ll be running along Oahu’s shores in the Tinman. I don’t know how, but I will be there. Soon, both this wedding and my run will be in my history, and I will have to look for the next goal. Maybe then, I’ll think about it being male in nature.

I haven’t told Lilly and Morgan about the cast, and I can only imagine their expressions when they notice it. Tonight’s my final fitting for the wedding. I’m wearing my eggplant skirt and a buttery T-shirt Lilly made me. I tried to balance in the heels Morgan left me, but with the cast that proved impossible, so I’m back to my Clarks clogs—or clog. I look quite normal by their standards.

I arrive at Lilly’s palatial Marina doorstep with a bottle of wine. Not because I’ll drink it, and really, I don’t think they will either, but it seems on the “normal” scale for a dinner invitation. At least that’s what people always do for me and that’s where this bottle came from in the first place. I’m not above regifting. Although maybe my wine-bearing friends just think I need to chill out, and booze will do the trick. One never knows. My Spa Girls know I don’t drink (alcohol acts like a sugar and yeast imbalancer) so maybe they’ll see my gift as a huge step for me and leave me alone on the dating/ nagging front.

“Hey, Poppy!” Lilly opens the door, grabs me up in a bear hug, and all my angst is quickly forgotten. “What’s with the wine?” she asks, looking at the bottle. “Does it have some sort of natural digestive aid in it or something we’re missing in our diet?”

“No, it’s just something a friend brought me at Christmas and I thought I’d share.”

“And the clothes?” She puts her hand on my forehead, “Are you feeling all right?”

“It’s my attempt at normal,” I say brightly. “People bring wine to dinner.”

“Not people who don’t drink it.” She starts to nod her head in her bouncing fashion. “But a very good attempt, even if none of us drink. It’s a start.”

“Still, I stretched, you know?”

Here, she notices the cast. “What’s that?”

“Stress fracture. I’ll have it off by the wedding.”

“Morgan won’t care; if you need a matching sleeve to cover it, I’ll just sew one.”

“You don’t think she’ll care?”

Lilly shrugs. “Why would she?” Lilly grabs my hand and pulls me into the room, where sweeping views of the San Francisco Bay arrest my attention. It’s a beautiful pink/purple dusk and the lights around the water are starting to stagger on and twinkle.

“Wow, Lilly, what a view.”

She looks at her husband. “Isn’t he, though?”

Max smiles at her and comes along beside me. “Hey, Poppy, how’s the energy?” He gives me a hug and kisses my cheek.

I have to laugh at this. Max tries, I’ll give him that. “Energy is a little slow with the fracture, but I’m working on it.”

Max is the studious and cerebral type, the opposite of creative and slightly flaky Lilly in every way. He grins at her, and they share a moment that, quite frankly, makes me want to gag.