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Authors: Donna Simmons

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BOOK: Mourning Dove
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CHAPTER 17

 

 

On the front porch, Sara
sat with her eyes closed, feet up, and Leonardo purring on her lap. She
threaded her fingers through his silky fur and inhaled the crisp smell of fall.
She could hear the hum of a leaf blower down the street.

After Matthew left at
midnight, it took ‘til two a.m. to fall asleep. He would have liked to stay the
night; but she knew it was too soon. The push and pull of a new relationship
was weaving its presence into the fabric of her consciousness. Every breath
remembered the smell of him, every sound the echo of his voice. “Get a grip,
Sara. You met him less than a week ago.”

“Met who?”

Cass was standing on
Sara’s front steps. “I didn’t hear you come up. My goodness you have your hands
full. What’s in the basket?”

“I passed a farm stand on
the way back from the store and thought we could both use some seasonal
decoration. I bought Indian corn and a couple pumpkins for carving. Whom did
you meet less than a week ago? That sweet piece of British testosterone?  That
was his car in your drive last night, wasn’t it?”

“Jeez, Cass, take a
breath.”

“Please don’t shut me out
of this. I knew something was up when he ran his hand up and down your bare
back at the exhibit.”

“He did not!”

She stared over her
glasses at Sara’s tired eyes.

“Well, he didn’t. He kept
his hand in one spot.”

“Claiming territory, I
suspect.”

“Pissing Ron off, I
guarantee.”

“Okay, spill.” Cass said
as she plunked down in Sara’s spare patio chair.

“Matthew is here on
business, living in a hotel, and eating in restaurants. I thought I would give
him a respite; I invited him to dinner. He stayed through dessert and a movie
and left around midnight.”

“Ah hell, Sara, you’re
both consenting adults. I hope you both had wonderful adventures last night.”

 When Sara’s phone
started its Westminster chime she dug into her jacket pocket to answer it.

“Hi, Sara.”

“Allen, how
are you?”

“I'm fine,
just fine.”

“How are your
wedding plans coming along?”

“Annette’s
picking out china patterns. Sara, Ron’s had a little accident.”

Sara sat
forward in her seat. “What happened?” Leonardo was digging in to hold onto his
position on her lap as she waited for Allen to explain.

“Ron tripped
over a curb and his own big feet. One minute he was up; the next he was
sprawled on the ground. His right ankle is broken. We’re at Portsmouth
Regional. They’re keeping him until they can bolt him back together.”

“Ouch!
He won’t like that.” Sara looked across to Cass and shook her head exhaling a
big breath. “Will I make matters worse by coming down?”

“I
think you should. He’s ornery as a bear with a thorn in his paw. And, you have
a gift for settling him down.”

“Not
any more I don’t. I might make the situation worse, but I’ll come down. I can
be there in forty minutes. Will you still be there?” The cat leaped from her
lap, “Leonardo, get back here! Oh Allen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell in
your ear. But Leonardo just jumped off my lap and I’m on the porch.”

“Who?”

“Leonardo,
Stacey’s cat.”

“Sara, what
are you talking about? Hey maybe you shouldn’t come down.”

“No,
that’s all right. As soon as I get him corralled I’ll be on my way.”

 “I won’t be here when
you arrive. Ron and I were on our way to meet with a prospective client when he
fell. I rescheduled for later on this afternoon and I’ll just make it if I
leave now. Thanks for coming down, Sara.”

He
disconnected before she could say another word.

Now what am
I going to do?
Scooping up the cat Cass had pinned with her foot on his
leash, Sara scooted him into the house.

“How much do
you need for the pumpkin and corn?” She asked over her shoulder.

Cass closed
the front door behind her and spoke calmly into Sara’s frenzied spin, “First,
sit down and take a breath.”

Sara sat on
the edge of her recliner, elbows to knees, and propped her forehead in her
hands. Cass sat beside her on the couch.

“Now tell me
what happened.”

“Ron had a
little accident. He tripped and broke his ankle. I’ve got to go down there. How
much do I owe you?”

“You don’t owe
me a thing. I’ll take care of Leonardo today and we’ll carve the pumpkins on
Sunday.”

Sara grabbed
her purse off the counter. “Cass? Can you lock up?”

“Just go, damn
it! And, drive careful.”

 

***

 

“GOD DAMN IT! I said I
wasn’t hungry!”

Sara could hear his angry
roar clear down by the elevators, then a loud crash from the hospital room
across from the nurses’ station. A young girl, obviously pregnant, emerged
wearing a pink and white smock, maternity slacks, and the white clogs most
hospital workers wore. Her face red with anger or embarrassment, she stormed
back behind the relative safety of the nurses’ station.

“Hi, I think I already
know the answer to this question, but I’m looking for Ron Stafford. I believe
he’s in the room that you just escaped.”

The pregnant nurse looked
at Sara as if she was quite insane. “Do you really want to go in there without
a whip and chair?”

“Unfortunately, I’m his
wife. I might be able to get him to behave for just a little while. Then again,
I just might make it worse.”

“Lady, you can’t possibly
make it worse. Be my guest.” she waved her hand in the general direction of the
lion’s den.

“I said GET OUT!” he
shouted when Sara opened the door.

“I heard you. The entire
floor heard you. I dare say they can use your booming voice if the foghorn ever
goes out in Portsmouth Harbor. Now, SHUT UP! And act your age, damn it.”

“Who the hell told you I
was here?”

“Who do you think? I was
embarrassed to admit I was your wife just now. How dare you bully that poor
pregnant girl? She was just trying to do her job and look at this mess. I
should make you sleep in it. My goodness, you’re covered in green jello and
chocolate milk. If you were my child I’d turn you over my knee and beat some
manners into you.”

“Well I’m not, and I
won’t be your husband much longer based on the way that man was fondling you
Thursday night, so there’s the door.”

Leaning close to his
face, she whispered, “One more word and I will give the order to have you stay
in this ooze until morning. You’ve probably alienated the entire nursing staff
with your tantrum and I’m sure they would be happy to leave you to your own
devices. Now tell me what happened and what the doctor said. Then I’ll help you
get more comfortable.”

The steam left him, just
like that. “Who was that guy with you?”

“That is not the topic I
wish to discuss, Ron. How did you break your ankle?”

He watched her for
several minutes. Silence was good. Then he shrugged his shoulders.

“Margaret called out
yesterday and asked us to make the deposit for her. She had eaten something bad
at the exhibit, she says. She was apparently up all night with food poisoning.
I know Allen ate everything offered; he’s not sick.”

“Allen has an iron
stomach; you know that.”

“Any way, she asked me to
make the deposit on Friday. This morning, when Allen and I were about to drive
to Hampton to meet with a new client, Allen found the deposit bag still on
Margaret’s chair. I’d prepared it but must have gotten sidetracked. So I
thought we could put it in the night deposit box at the bank on the way out.”

“Why didn’t you drive up
and put it in?”

“I thought of pulling in
and out of traffic and figured it would be easier to just park in the break
down lane and jog across to the bank. On the way back, a car came out of
nowhere. I jumped out of the way, tripped over the curb, and went down.”

“And, what does the doctor
say?”

“Ah, they’re all a bunch
of quacks, what do they know?”

“I hope my wife doesn’t
find that out. She thinks I learned something beyond duck races in med school,”
a strong male voice announced the doctor’s presence. “I understand you’ve been
terrorizing the hospital staff, Mr. Stafford. That’s got to stop.” He hesitated
when he got a good look at the coagulating green slime decorating his patient.
A grin spread across his face.

“Ignore his present
condition, doctor. I threatened not to clean it up until he promises to behave
himself. I’m his wife, Sara. Ron was just about to tell me the status of his
injury when you walked in.”

The doctor, an older man
with short graying hair, came forward and shook her hand.

“I’m Dr. Johnson, your
husband’s orthopedist. He has a double fracture in his right ankle.  In order
to correct the situation, we’ll put in a couple of screws and a rod. We can’t
do that until Monday at the earliest. By then the swelling should be down a
bit. I expect it to heal completely in time.”

“How long will he be in
the hospital?”

“Probably through Monday;
as soon as we have a cast on it we’ll discharge him. He won’t be able to put
any weight on it for two weeks, another four in a walking cast. With physical
therapy, he should be back to normal within six months.”

“Six months!” Ron
shouted. “I can’t be away from work for six months.”

“Ron, quiet,” she
ordered. “I understand Dr. Johnson to mean six months for complete healing if
you behave and do as the doctor tells you.”

“If you were living alone,
Mr. Stafford, you could be spending the first two weeks in a rehab facility. We
want your ankle to heal correctly; if you try walking on it too soon you could
end up with a permanent limp. I suggest you use some sick time and focus on
getting well. I also want you to promise me you won’t harass the staff any
more.”

Ron nodded begrudgingly.
Sara knew it was only temporary.

“Mrs. Stafford, you have
my complete sympathies.” With that last statement the doctor walked out the
door.

“What the hell did he mean
by that?” Ron asked her.

“He was referring to your
orneriness. If you don’t behave, I’ll tell them I don’t live with you any more.
They will, of course, completely understand; and you will end up in a rehab
hospital for two weeks.”

“Sara, don’t you dare
leave me now.”

“Weren’t you the one that
just ten minutes ago told me to get out?”

“Ah come on, Sara.”

“Asking for my help,
Ron?”

“The company won’t run
without me. Please.”

“You sure know how to
complicate my life,” she paced the room running her hands through her hair.
“Okay, but you stow the temper tantrums. You make a lousy patient. Just accept
the situation and the help. I’ll pick up some of your personal things and be
back in an hour. After I drop them off I won’t be back ‘til Monday. When they
release you, I’ll take you home and arrange for support at the house. Do you
have your cell phone?”

“It was on my belt.  I
think the nurses have my things.”

“I’ll check before I
leave. Anything specific you want from home?”

“Something to sleep in
that has a back to it, my razor, toothbrush, comb.”

“Do you have your keys? I
don’t have a copy any more.”

“They should be with my
things, ask the nurses.”

“You owe me big time for
this. After the next two weeks you’re on your own. I have a business trip to Chicago the last week of the month. By that time you should be in a walking cast. Maybe
Allen can bring you back and forth to work. Before then, he can send messages
by phone and email. And Ron?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not sleeping with
you.”

Silence again. “Are you
committed to this guy then? Do you want out?”

“I’m committed to a new
life. At this time, it doesn’t include attachment to another man. He was being
a gentleman.”

“You were half naked.”

“I remember you liked
that dress.”

“I remember how easy it
was to get you out of it.”

“I went home alone, Ron.
Do you want my help cleaning up this mess, or not?”

He lifted the edge of the
soggy sheet and they folded the mess into a pile. Within minutes most of the
debris was out of the room.

“Ron, are you in pain? Do
you want me to ask them for anything?”

“Would they care?”

“I’ll check.”

She was almost to the
door with the pile in her arms when she asked, “You want me to pick up a bacon
double cheeseburger?”

“And onion rings?”

 

***

 

“Carl, help me.”

Mom, wake up. You’re
having another nightmare

“I’m awake.” Sara checked
the time. It was just past midnight.

Good, now think it.

Sorry, what’s wrong?

I’m concerned about
Dad.  Why is he in the hospital?

He tripped over a curb and broke his ankle.

He wasn’t pushed?

No, he tripped.

Was anyone else there to
see it?

Allen was there. He said a car almost hit him and he backed into the
curb and tripped.

What kind of car?

I don’t remember; does it matter?

It matters. Did the
driver stop?

No, he didn’t.

Did Allen get a good
look at the driver?

He said the car had tinted windows. It’s only a broken ankle; Allen
says the car didn’t hit him.

I don’t like it.  Be
careful.

Carl, why didn’t you know your dad was down?

I knew he was down, but
not why. I was watching you enjoy your morning when I got yanked to him in the
ER. Then, I bounced back to you.

I’m all right, son.

BOOK: Mourning Dove
13.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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