Lacy's End (6 page)

Dr. Petoro gazed through his laryngoscope at Wendy Wyatt’s inflamed tonsils. Her mother, nineteen-year-old Beth Ann, stood beside him, smacking her gum and trying to get a look down the scope. He glanced sideways at her. She did the same, and his eyes warned. She backed away. “So, Doc, how come you ain’t married or nuthin’? I mean like, you gotta be rich, and all on account of you being a doctor, and you ain’t even bad to look at. I would think somebody’d snatched you by now.” She smacked her gum again.

He stood and stretched, his muscles screaming thankfulness. His neck popped, and Beth Ann grimaced. “Oh, never mind, Doc. You’s old.” She laughed, and Wendy, not even realizing what her mother was laughing at, giggled.

He chuckled, took out a sticker and handed it to Wendy. Then he took out a culture stick and showed it to her. “Is it okay if I tickle your throat a little?” he asked.

Wendy nodded, her gorgeous green eyes going excitedly round and opened wide. She knew the drill. He swabbed, and Wendy giggled. He closed the culture stick into its protective housing and looked at Beth Ann. “I’ll send it off, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to come back normal. You need to think about that surgery, Beth Ann.”

“Ain’t nobody cutt’n on my baby,” she protested and smacked her gum again.

He sighed. “It’s just a tonsillectomy. Minor surgery, I swear.”

“My girl had the same problem,” a sweet voice said from the doorway.

All three of them turned to look as Brenda Waldrip walked in. She advanced toward the young mother. “My girl, Lacy, was constantly getting sore throats. She missed so much school I had the attendance office on speed dial. I did the same thing that you did. I kept insisting she would be okay and refused. I understand, believe me. I was frightened of the surgery, too.” She looked at Wendy. “Does it hurt a lot?” Wendy nodded as a tear welled in the corner of her eye. “See that?” she asked Beth Ann. “You have the power to stop those tears.”

Beth Ann looked at Brenda, then at her baby girl, as if finally seeing the truth. Her own eyes misted. “I just love her so much,” she said. “I’d die if sumpin’ happened to her.”

Brenda closed her hand over Beth Ann’s hand. “Something
is
happening to her. She is hurting.” Brenda nodded encouragingly.

Beth Ann turned to Alan, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She sniffed back sobs. “Okay, do it, Doc, ’fore I go and change my mind.”

He sighed and grinned. “I’ll get the paperwork started.”

He turned and walked away. Brenda smiled at Beth Ann and Wendy and then fell into step beside him.

He grinned at her. “Thanks. You were wonderful. I’ve been trying to get her to consent to that surgery for six months. How’d you do it?”

“You were approaching it as a doctor. I brought in the mother guns.”

He laughed, nodded at the package that she held in her hands. “What’s that?”

“Oh, they’re for you, homemade chocolate-chip cookies.”

He grabbed his chest. “Be still my heart. I love chocolate-chip, but how did you know?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to demean a gift,” she said. “I worked hard on these. You’re supposed to accept it gratefully, and enjoy them.”

He looked around before taking them, and then whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t tell anyone, they might think it’s a payoff.”

She laughed, and it felt so good. “I didn’t know how else to express my appreciation.”

He stopped at a desk and addressed a nurse sitting behind it. “Wendy Wyatt’s in room three. Her mother has consented to her surgery. We need to get it going before she changes her mind.”

“Are you kidding?” the nurse said. “We’ve been after her for months about that.”

He pointed to Brenda. “Apparently, we had the wrong approach.”

Brenda smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Congratulations,” the nurse said. “Have you ever considered nursing school?”

Brenda laughed it off. “Maybe in the next lifetime. Well, I guess I’d better get going and let you get back to work.”

“Do you have to? It’s going to take them awhile to get her paperwork going, and I could use a break. Do you have time for a cup of coffee? It’s not Starbucks by any means, but it will work.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, come on.” He led the way to a room down the hall. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. She followed. She gazed around, noting the various items used by the staff when they needed a little downtime. In one corner was a refrigerator. Sitting on a counter next to a sink was a toaster, coffee pot, and a microwave. In the center of the room was a round table with six chairs. A couch stood off to the side with a coffee table in front of it, on which several magazines were displayed.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing at the couch. He poured two mugs of coffee. “Do you take anything in it?”

She shook her head.

He brought the mugs to the table and set one in front of her, and one in front of the seat next to her, where he promptly sat. He pointed to the cookies. “Do you mind?”

She blushed. “Oh, of course not, they’re for you.” She slid the plate over to him.

He took the plate, tore off the protective plastic wrap, and bit into one. “Oh…my…God. These cookies are so delicious. I’m in love.” She blushed again as he realized the implication of his statement. “With the cookies, I mean.”

She smiled and nodded. “Well, I don’t have much else to do with my day but cook and clean.” She fell silent, as a vision of her husband throwing his plate of eggs against the wall that very morning flashed through her mind. He had been angry because she set them on the table before he sat down.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

She smiled faintly and rubbed her hands nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t go out on me, or I might eat all these cookies.”

She looked down at the plate, amazed to see he must have eaten half the plate already. She laughed. “I guess you like them.”

He grinned, covered the plate and said, “I don’t usually eat this way. These are delicious. You must have studied culinary in college.”

Her smile dropped, and she shook her head. “No. I didn’t go to college.” A sad expression crossed her face. She pushed it away, making an effort to regain the smile. “I got married instead. The cooking is self-taught.”

“Bravo,” he said. “I’d love it if you would cook for me sometime, perhaps dinner?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t. I’m sorry. Peter definitely wouldn’t allow that.”

She stood and grabbed her purse, slinging the strap over her shoulder. She looked down, played with the strap of her purse. “I have to go now,” she said. “Peter will be home soon.” She turned to walk away.

He stood, grabbing hold of her arm and turning her back around. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was forward of me. I understand that you’re married.” An awkward silence had followed before he said, “Okay. Thanks again for the cookies.”

He walked her back to the nurses’ station. “Can you find your way out from here?”

She nodded and extended her hand. “Thanks for the coffee.”

He watched her walk away. One of the nurses, Wanda, tapped him on the shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing, Doctor?”

He shrugged and said, “I’m hoping to save a life.” He began to whistle and strode off toward the emergency room.

Millie Watson dabbed at the cut on Lacy’s face. Lacy flinched. “You would think I’d be used to them by now.”

Millie frowned at her, stepping back to look at her, face-to-face. “No one should have to get used to them.”

“Don’t start, Millie.”

Millie mimicked her, waving her shoulders and scrunching up her face. “Don’t start, Millie.”

Lacy laughed at the ridiculous expression on Millie’s face. Millie soon joined her.

Without warning, Lacy grew serious. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Millie stopped dabbing and considered the question. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t say I disbelieve in them. Why do you ask? Is some ghost lover visiting you in the middle of the night?”

They both laughed again, and then a horrible thought struck Millie. She narrowed her eyes at Lacy. “Lacy,” she said. “Your dad doesn’t…you know...” She winced, “…come and visit you in the middle of the night, does he?”

Lacy smacked Millie’s hand away. “Oh, God, no!” she screamed.

Millie breathed in relief.

Lacy closed her eyes as a mental image flooded her mind—her mother, pinned down on the bed, making noises Lacy was sure normal people didn’t make when making love. Loud slapping sounds and the whimpers of her mother’s cries always followed the noises. She wondered what would happen if her mother refused him. Would he come to her bed, instead? “My mom would never let that happen.”

Jenny Pearson and her gang of girls chose that moment to burst in on them. Jenny walked toward them, swinging her hips in an exaggerated style, coming to stop beside Millie, who was putting away her makeup. She stood in front of Lacy, so close Lacy could see her artificially enhanced breasts pushing up and out of her low-cut top. If she had a pin, she would reach out and pop them.

“Oh, look,” Jenny said. “What do we have here, girls. Miss punching bag and her road manager.” Jenny laughed, and the girls all joined in.

Jenny cupped Lacy’s chin, shaking her head back and forth. She spoke to her in a baby tone. “Oh, whatsa matter, wittle Lacy? Did big, bad daddy wail on you again?”

Lacy pulled her head from Jenny’s hand, reached out to slap her, but pulled her hand back at the last minute. She would not resort to violence. Of course, this made the girls laugh harder.

Jenny rolled her eyes “Looks like Daddy has succeeded in making a chicken shit out of you.”

Millie stepped between them. “Did you have a purpose for coming in here, or did you just come to wipe the bird shit off your face?”

“What!” Jenny exclaimed, running to the mirror, to check it out.

Millie grabbed Lacy’s hand, pulled her off the counter and ran out the door, pulling Lacy behind her. “In here,” she shouted as she pushed open the door to the boys’ bathroom.

They both ran into the handicapped stall, also known as Mary Jane Lane in their school. Lacy gasped for breath. “You do realize we are in the smokers’ closet—in the boys’ bathroom, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” Millie said. “Jenny wouldn’t dare come in here. She might catch boy cooties or something.” They both howled with laughter and clamped their hands over their mouths to stifle the laughter.

“Hey, who’s there?” a voice called.

They heard a toilet flush at the same time a nauseating odor assaulted them. They ran out of the stall and collided with Roger Thorn. Millie and he bumped heads. “Ouch,” she cried. “What are you doing? What is that awful smell?”

He looked toward the stall. “What do you think it is? Are you that stupid? Besides, I’m not the one who has some explaining to do.” He smirked at her. “I do believe the sign on the door reads BOYS.”

They heard heavy footsteps in the hallway outside the door. A muffled, yet distinguishable voice said, “They went in there.”

Anger crept into Millie’s face. “Jenny,” she spat.

Lacy began to panic, bouncing slightly. “I can’t get caught in here.” She pleaded with her eyes as mist formed in their corners. She pointed to her face. “If you think these cuts look bad, wait until you see what’ll happen if I get suspended for being in the boys’ bathroom.”

In an instant, Roger grabbed Lacy by the shoulders, shoved her back into a corner, and wedged her behind the trashcan. Then he grabbed Millie toward him, smashing her lips against his. The door exploded open, and Mrs. Bart stood there, looking at the couple engaged in a lip-lock. “What is going on in here?” she demanded.

Roger and Millie pulled apart. An amused grin played at the corners of his mouth. He whispered in her ear, “I never knew you were such a good kisser.”

She grinned back. “You should have asked.”

Mrs. Bart cocked a finger at them. “Come on, you two,” she added, “Millie Watson, I’m surprised at you. I’ve seen you do some pretty careless things before, but I never thought I’d catch you fornicating in the bathroom.”

As the door was closing, Lacy heard Millie gasp and exclaim, “I was not fornicating!”

The door opened again, and Lacy heard Jenny protesting. “They were both in there, Mrs. Bart.”

“Jennifer Pearson, you get to class right now and let me worry about this.”

The door closed again, and Lacy heard, “But, Mrs. Bart….” Then silence fell as the group wandered away.

Lacy waited for what seemed like ages for the door to open again—but it didn’t. She eased out from behind the trashcan, stole over to the door and opened it slightly. She stuck out her head, looking for signs of loiterers.

“That was fun.”

She jumped, clutched her chest, and gasped. She looked beside her and straight into the eyes of Jake. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

He smiled and said, “The game looked like fun, so I thought I’d join you. The coast is clear, by the way.”

“What?”

He gestured toward the hallway. “You can leave now. Everyone is tucked away in their classrooms learning their ABCs. Well…except for Millie and Roger. I don’t think they’re going to be around much for a while. That teacher sure looked angry. Are we going back under the bleachers?”

She started to walk down the hall. “No, and she wasn’t a teacher. She’s the vice-principal.”

He shrugged and fell into step beside her. “I don’t see the difference.”

She stopped walking, gaped at him and then picked up the pace. She shook her head. “You’re an odd one, Jake.”

“If we aren’t going under the bleachers, then where are we going?”

“I’m going to my class, and you’re going to your class.” She eyed him suspiciously. “You do have a class, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Good—then go to it.” She paused, her hand resting lightly on the door to the chemistry lab. “Goodbye, Jake.”

He began to walk away, whistling a tune. He turned and waved. “See ya after school,” he said.

She waved and smiled, amazed to find herself looking forward to it.

She pulled open the door, pleased to discover the students were in the middle of an experiment and didn’t notice her enter. Mrs. Horton did, however, and looked at her. She cocked her head slightly to the left and motioned her over. “Where have you been? And where is Millie?”

Lacy shook her head. “I don’t know where Millie is.” She bit her lower lip and begged a thousand pardons from God for lying. She leaned in and whispered to Mrs. Horton, “I started my period and had to wait for someone to bring me a tampon.”

Mrs. Horton shook her head. “That’s the same excuse you used last time, Lacy.”

Lacy shrugged. “I can’t help it if I’m irregular.”

Mrs. Horton sighed. “Take your seat. You’ll have to do the experiment on your own since your lab partner seems to be missing.”

Lacy took her seat and stared dumbly around. She hadn’t a clue what they were even doing. Tony leaned over. “We’re studying hot and cold reactions using baking soda, lye, vinegar, zinc, and hydrochloric acid.”

“We did that at the beginning of the year.”

Tony pointed across the room. “Yeah, I know, but brilliant-brain Billy over there almost blew up the lab, so now we have to review.”

Lacy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Well, at least it’s easy since I don’t have a partner.”

At that moment, there came a loud bang from the corner of the room. They all turned to look and saw Billy covered with black soot. The kids all laughed while Mrs. Horton groaned. “Perhaps chemistry isn’t for you, Billy,” she said. “Everyone, please exit quietly.”

They filed out, meeting in the parking lot, just as they had learned to do in grade school—all except Billy, of course, who spent another afternoon in the chemical wash station.

“I hear Billy’s doing a bang-up job in chemistry.” Lacy looked to her right, not even surprised to see Jake.

She laughed. “I thought you went to class.”

He shook his head. “You assumed I went to class. I never actually said I was going.”

Mrs. Horton blew the whistle, signaling everyone it was clear to return to the classroom.

“I’ll catch you later,” Jake said.

“Okay.”

Mrs. Horton walked up to Lacy. “Who were you talking to, Lacy?”

Lacy looked puzzled. “My friend, Jake,” she said.

“There’s no one there, Lacy.”

Lacy looked beside her. She shrugged. “I guess he went to his class.”

Mrs. Horton eyed her warily. Lacy didn’t blame her. Even she was getting a strange feeling about her new friend.