Lacy's End (19 page)

“What?”

“Never mind.”

He looked purposely at her. “You can tell me.”

She mused over the question. She picked up the salt shaker on the table, rolled it around in her hands as if trying to decide whether to use it or not. He took it from her, setting it back on the table. “Salt’s bad for you. Say your piece.”

She looked him in the eye. What did she see there? Anger? Loathing perhaps? “I've been thinking my mother never would have let my father do to me what Peter does to Lacy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You can stop him, Brenda.”

She shook her head, shaking off his accusation. “Tell me about you,” she said.

Their server came and asked what they would like for dessert. “None for me,” she said.

“We’ll both have spumoni,” Allen said. When she started to object, he held up his hand. “You can’t go to an Italian restaurant and not have spumoni.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

“So, about you?” she asked again after their server had left.

“Nothing exciting about me,” he said, grinning. “I was born an Iowa farm-boy. Mom and Dad are still there, but all of us kids have moved on. Dad doesn’t work the farm much anymore. He hires ranch hands mostly now. The foreman oversees the bulk of the operation.”

Their server returned carrying two bowls of spumoni ice cream. They both smiled in thanks, and he trotted off again. “It looks delicious.”

“You’ve never had spumoni before?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never eaten in an Italian restaurant before tonight.”

His mouth dropped and she giggled. “It’s not the end of the world. Peter doesn’t like Italian food, and my father and I rarely ate out.” She put a bite in her mouth and smiled. “Hmm.” She gestured at him with her spoon. “Finish your story.”

“Christopher’s the eldest. He’s a photojournalist and is off somewhere in Iraq right now.” She winced. “Yeah, that’s the same reaction my mother had. Pammy’s next in line. She married a doctor who is a neurosurgeon in New York. She gets home more than any of us do. Then there’s Bradley, a news editor, also in New York. Mom’s grateful at least one of her offspring is close. Although, in truth, she sees Pammy and Ethan more than any of us.” He sat back and placed the fingertips of both his hands on his chest. “Then there’s me. I’m the baby, and well, while I’m no neurosurgeon, I am a doctor. So there we have the entire Petoro clan.”

She smiled. “It sounds nice. I often wish I had a large family.” She grew somber for a moment. “I often thought Peter and I might have more children, but not with the way things are.”

“That’s probably not a bad thing in your circumstance.”

She nodded but added nothing.

He looked down at the melting ice cream. “Come on, let’s go. I have something to show you.” He stood, took a couple bills out of his wallet and set them down on the table. He extended his hand toward her. She looked at it for a moment, wondering if she took it, how it would look. He smiled encouragingly at her and tipped his head to one side. Finally, she reached out and took the hand. He led her from the restaurant, still holding her hand, and helped her into the car, something Peter had never done. She liked the feeling.

He stopped the car in front of a run-down, yet tidy building. The sign across it read 5th Street Clinic.

“What are we doing here?”

“I want you to meet someone. In fact, there are a couple of people I’d like you to meet today.” She looked at her watch. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll get you home in plenty of time.”

He opened the door for her, and they walked inside. The waiting room was packed. Haunted stares filled most of the faces, as they waited miserably for their turn to see a doctor. Her eyes scanned the room, resting upon a young woman waiting for her turn. She seemed to be patiently waiting while she worked on some knitting project. She had a bubbling toddler running around her ankles, chattering wildly. When he spotted them, he broke out in a grin. “Dr. Petey,” he said, running and throwing his arms around his legs. “The lady didn’t tell us the truth,” he said, an angry glare settling in his eyes.

“Oh. How’s that, Connor?”

“That lady,” he said, pointing at a closed window. “She said you weren’t here today, but you are, too, here. She lied.”

Allen chuckled. “Elaine didn’t lie to you, Connor. I’m only here for a minute.”

“Connor, get over here and leave Dr. Petoro alone. I’m sorry, Doctor,” the young woman said. “He just adores you so much.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Baker.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar. He held it so the boy could see it. “Have you made your bed every day, as we discussed?”

The boy nodded emphatically.

“Connor,” his mother warned.

He blushed and lowered his head. “Well, most days.”

“Uh-hum,” his mother said, clearing her throat.

“Okay, some days,” the boy corrected.

He put the dollar back and extracted two quarters from his pocket. “Let’s see if we can improve on that next time.”

The boy took the quarters, not in the least disturbed about the swap for a lesser amount. “Thanks!” he said running back to his mother. “Look what Dr. Petey gave me.”

The mother smiled and nodded her approval as the boy climbed into her lap.

Allen pushed some numbers on a door lock and opened it. They walked through the door and into a frenzy of people in hospital scrubs. All activity stopped as eyes turned toward the unexpected entry. In this downtown clinic, they had to be careful. At any given time, a crazed junkie could walk through the door and demand drugs from them.

Shoulders visibly relaxed and activity returned to normal when they saw who their visitor was. A lovely, young woman with olive skin, long dark hair, and emerald eyes smiled at them and came over to give Allen a quick hug. “Hey, Allen,” she said. “What are you doing here on your day off?”

“I’ve brought a friend for you to meet.” He indicated Brenda. “This is Brenda Waldrip. Brenda, this is Elaine.”

Elaine smiled at her, a welcoming smile. She looked at Allen, narrowing her eyes. “Another one, Saint Allen?”

He shook his head. “This one’s different.”

“Yeah, right,” she said. “They’re all different.” She chuckled. The phone rang, and she turned and walked to answer it.

“What did she mean by that, Allen?”

An older Latino man wearing a long, white lab coat walked up, clapped Allen on the back. He said, “She was wondering if Allen was bringing another fledgling to be nurtured.”

Allen laughed heartily. “I guess you could say I tend to bring home the babies that were kicked out of their nests.”

“Allen likes to bring home the homeless, so-to-speak, and nurtures them back to life.”

“I’m not homeless,” Brenda said, in a low, hurt tone.

The man’s smile dropped, and his face turned red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It was just a joke.” He looked at Allen. “I’m sorry, man. It really was just a joke.”

“It’s okay, Tony. This is Brenda Waldrip. She’s a friend. I’m just showing her around.” He introduced them. “Brenda, this is Tony. Tony runs the lab.”

She extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Tony.”

He accepted the hand. “I’m really sorry about the comment.”

She shook her head and did her best to smile. “It’s okay, really. I was too sensitive.”

Allen walked her through the rest of the lab, introducing her to various workers, describing each of their tasks.

“I never realized it took so many people to run a clinic.”

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

She looked at her watch again.

“We have one more stop, and then I’ll get you home before my car turns into a pumpkin. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They drove a couple of blocks and came to stop in front of a diner.

“I’m not hungry, Allen.”

“Good, because we’re not here for the food.”

He held open her door and extended his hand again as she stepped out of the car.

A bell rang as the door opened. Brenda looked around. The diner was busy but not crowded. An older woman dressed in a crisp aqua-colored uniform greeted them. “Hi, Dr. Petoro,” she said, looking somewhat timid.

He smiled, trying to put her at ease. “Hi, Greta. How’s the new job working out?”

Her face lighted up. “It’s great, and Henry’s real kind to me.”

“Good. Is he around?”

As if on cue, an older balding man walked out of a door, closing it firmly behind him. He took out a key ring and locked the deadbolt. Brenda read the word
SUPPLIES on it and wondered why he felt compelled to secure it. Then she considered some of the employees and customers and thought she knew the answer.

“Hey, Henry,” Allen called.

The man turned, looked at Brenda and shook his head at Allen. “No!” he said. “I haven’t even broken in Greta yet.”

He laughed, pulled Brenda close to him and said, “Naw—not her.”

“Whew,” Henry said and laughed. “Not that she wouldn’t look great in the uniform.”

“She’s just a friend. I’m showing her my world.”

Henry laughed. “Are you trying to scare her away?” Henry turned his head to look at Brenda. “Honey, if you’re going to be with this man, you’re going to have to get used to these quirky dates.”

Brenda shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

Henry looked at Allen, saw something in his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah.”

A young boy entered the diner, took one look at Allen, and his face lit up. “Hey, Dr. P.”

“Hey, Reuben,” Allen said. “How’s school?”

“I’m staying on the honor roll.”

“Good job.” He pulled out his wallet and passed him a five-dollar bill.

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, Dr. P!”

Allen said to Brenda, “I give him five dollars every time he makes the honor roll. He’s saving up for a Christmas present for his mom. His wages are all committed, so he appreciates the extra cash.”

“He’d better stay on that honor roll,” Henry said, “or he’s out on his ass.” He sounded serious, and Brenda wasn’t sure how to react.

They all laughed, and Brenda realized she had missed the meaning of an inside joke.

“You here for lunch?” Henry asked.

“Just a tour,” Allen said. “We already ate.”

“Tawny just took a cherry pie out of the oven.”

Allen clutched his stomach. “Aw, Henry—why do you tempt me so?”

Henry laughed, holding his arms out in front, palms turned up. He shrugged. “It’s Tawny’s cherry pie,” he repeated.

Allen dashed to a booth, clutching Brenda’s hand and pulling her with him. He fell into the booth. Brenda, propelled by the sudden dash, flew in behind him, landing nearly on top of him. His arms went around her as their laughter spilled over.

When they were finally able to control their laughter, she sat up. She felt the nearness of him and liked it. He removed his arm from her shoulders but rested it on the seat behind her. She didn’t attempt to move away.

Henry placed two plates of cherry pie topped with vanilla ice cream down in front of them. Allen dug in while Brenda stared in amazement. When he realized she was staring, he put down his fork and sat back. “Sorry.”

She smiled and shook her head. “It’s nice to see a man appreciate a woman’s cooking so much.”

A large woman with massive arms walked from the kitchen. She had tattoos covering both arms, wore a long, brown braid, littered with salt and pepper gray down her back. “Well, look who the wind blew in.”

Allen held open his arms. “Tawny,” he said. “The pie’s delicious, as usual.”

“Where you been, Son?” She reached across Brenda, crushing her against the back of the booth and gave him a big hug.

“Busy,” he said, the sound muffled by her large breasts.

She stood back, looked at Brenda, and cocked a teasing smile at her. “Busy, huh? This your new lady?”

He shook his head. “This is Brenda, and she’s just a friend.”

She looked her over as if trying to decide if she approved. “She looking for work?”

“She’s Sheriff Waldrip’s wife.”

“Oooh-wee! What’s wrong with you? You’d best run all the way back to your mama, ’cause you’re playing with dynooomite!”

Allen tipped his head to the side, raised his eyebrows at her. “She’s just a friend.”

“A very pretty friend of the opposite sex,” she said.

“Butt out, Tawny,” Henry yelled from the back of the diner.

“I’m just tryin’ to save this boy’s life,” she shouted back.

“I’m a big kid, Tawny.”

“Well, I’ll tell Jim Ivers to give your family a good discount on your funeral.” She cackled and walked away.

When Brenda looked at Allen, he was smiling. Then he started laughing.

“I don’t think it’s that’s funny,” she said.

“Then why are you smiling?”

“I don’t know. Nerves I guess.” Then she asked, “How do you know these people so well?”

“I met Henry a few years back. That woman I introduced you to at the clinic, Elaine, was living on the streets a few years ago. She was down on her luck, they would say. She stole a loaf of bread from me. I chased, and when I caught up with her, she was hovering over three kids. They all were dirty and hungry. I brought the lot of them here. It just happened that Henry had a help-wanted sign out in the front window and a spare room in the back.” He nodded toward the boy who was sweeping the floors. “Reuben is Elaine’s son.”