Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (26 page)

“It isn't sterile, Dottie, but I have to stop the bleeding."

He heard sirens in the distance.

“They're coming, Dottie. Do you hear the sirens? Help is on the way. Don't you go and die on me, you cantankerous old doll. You hang in there. I love you, you old biddy. We can have a great life together if you'll give me half a chance. Don't you die on me, Dottie Frank. Don't you dare die on me."

She moaned and opened her eyes.

“Welcome back,” he said with tears running sideways across his cheeks. “You've been in an accident. You're wedged in the truck, but the rescue squad is here now. They'll get you out."

He heard voices and the sounds of people coming through the undergrowth.

“Oh, God,” he heard Billy Frank shout. “It's Mama."

“Billy,” George shouted from beneath the truck. “It's George Bennett. I'm under the hood of the truck holding a compress on Dottie forehead. She is conscious now, but has a nasty gash on her head."

He heard the sound of metal against metal as the workers attempted to pry open the door. Someone was moving the windshield from his lower body.

“Dottie,” he said over the racket. “Can you hear me?"

She moved her lips but he heard no sound.

“Can you hold this handkerchief against your forehead until they get you out?"

He saw her hand move slowly towards her head. He reached through the steering wheel, grasped her wrist and guided her hand to the handkerchief. Someone was crawling under the truck with him. There were shouts of triumph as the door finally yielded to the Jaws of Life.

He heard a familiar voice in his ear. “George,” Maggie said. “Are you all right?"

“Maggie, is that you?” He turned to the sound of her voice. Her lips briefly touched his.

“Are you all right?” she asked again.

“Yes,” he answered. “I crawled under here and pried off the windshield, but I may need help getting out."

“You are a hero, George Bennett. I am so proud of you."

He glanced back at Dottie. Strong hands were expertly pulling her from the truck's cab.

With Maggie's assistance, he managed to slither like a snake and extricate himself from under the hood of the truck. She helped him sit up.

“Not much of a hero, Maggie,” he said. “I'm an old man. I couldn't get the door open."

“Neither could three strong young men,” she said with a gentle smile on her face.

“Is Dottie going to be okay?"

“You love her, don't you George?"

He nodded. Tears returned to his cheeks. “I think I do, Maggie."

“I knew it before you did. That's why I left you."

He nodded. “Will she be all right?” he repeated.

“I don't know,” she said as she sprang to her feet. “Let's go check on her."

“Maggie?"

“Yes, George."

“I love you, too. I can't explain it."

She smiled and put her arm around his waist.

As they rounded the truck, Dottie was lying on a stretcher with a square of gauze taped to her forehead. With Billy Frank at one end and Eddie Crow at the other, the stretcher moved slowly and Dottie was on her way to the ambulance parked on the roadside. George and Maggie followed.

“Where are you taking her?” George asked as Dottie was carefully loaded into the ambulance.

“There's no broken bones and she's rational,” Crow answered. “We're going to the clinic. Dr. McGee's staff is waiting for her."

“Are you okay, George?” Maggie asked.

He nodded as the ambulance drove away. “I can't explain it, but I do love you too, Maggie."

She smiled. “You already said that, George. I know you love me, but not like you love Dottie."

He nodded again. “I want to spend the rest of my life with Dottie,” he said. “Can't we be friends?"

“We are friends, George. We just took it too far."

“Will you come back to work for me Maggie? I need you."

She smiled again.

“You coming, Maggie?” someone shouted from the cab of the fire truck.

“I have to go, George."

“Maggie?"

“I'll think about it."

Now it was George's turn to smile. He watched Maggie climb on the back of the red truck and admired her as the vehicle headed back to Dot. He slowly returned to the wreck and retrieved his cellular telephone and tire tool. When he was again behind the wheel of his car, he punched the programmed button for the Korner Kafe.

“Sewana?” he asked when a female voice answered.

“Yes."

“This is George. I won't be back today. Close the place if you have to."

“Are you okay, Mr. Bennett?"

“I'm a little shook up. Dottie Frank has been in a bad accident. I think she's going to be all right, but I'm not sure. I'm going to hang around and see if there is anything I can do."

“We won't close the restaurant, Mr. Bennett. We'll do the best we can."

“Thank you, Sewana."

He cranked the car and headed for the clinic. There was no sign of the ambulance. When he entered the waiting room, he shielded his eyes against the bright glare of the overhead fluorescent lights. He stood at the circular desk until a young lady he thought should probably still be in grade school approached him.

“I'm George Bennett,” he explained. “A friend of Dottie Frank. Is she going to be all right?"

“Dr. McGee is with her now, Mr. Bennett. Why don't you wait with Mr. Frank and his wife?"

George turned, saw Billy and Tracy sitting in a corner of the room and joined them. “Any word?"

Billy shook his head. “She probably has a concussion and that gash on her head in going to need stitches. Unless there are some internal injuries, she should be in fairly good shape. She's lucky to come out of that wreck alive. The damn truck is totaled."

They sat quietly for fifteen minutes. Finally, George asked, “Is that girl behind the counter old enough to work here?"

Billy laughed. “I've known her since she was born. She's at least twenty-five now, George."

Bennett shook his head with a wry grin on his face. “I'm really getting old, Billy. She looks like a child to me."

Tracy chimed in. “She's married and has a boy who's already in school."

“Unbelievable,” George muttered. “Billy, what do you suppose caused the accident?"

Billy's expression turned grim. “I don't know. A state trooper is out there now, trying to make sense of it. Someone must have run her off the road, or maybe even sideswiped her and left the scene."

“Her truck is ancient,” George observed. “I suppose there could have been some kind of mechanical failure."

Billy nodded. “It's possible, but I keep it in good condition for her."

George watched the slender hand on the wall clock jerk forward one second at a time and he began to count. Why do I do that? he wondered after counting 3,000 seconds. I'm forever counting things for absolutely no reason.

Billy and Tracy stood up and George followed the focus of their eyes. Dr. McGee was approaching from the left. There was blood on her white coat, but she was smiling. George, too, stood as she arrived.

“She should be just fine, Billy,” Dr. McGee said. “She has multiple bruises all over her body—especially across her thighs where the lap belt dug into her—and I put twelve stitches in her forehead. She's going to have a humdinger of a headache."

“Thank God,” George said.

“Of course, she also has a concussion. I don't think there will be any complications, but I want her to stay awake under careful observation for twenty-four hours. Billy, can you or Tracy stay with her?"

“Of course, Mary Lou,” Tracy said.

“If for any reason you can't keep her awake, or note any abnormal behavior, call me immediately, no matter what time it is."

Tracy nodded.

“Is there anything you can give her for the pain?” Billy asked.

“I don't want her heavily medicated until the danger of complications from the brain trauma is passed. Sandra Dollar's remedy is as good as anything I can prescribe."

“A double dose of Alka-Seltzer Plus?” Billy asked incredulously.

“I don't recommend a double dose,” Dr. McGee said with a hint of amusement in her voice, “but it works for me. I'll have one of the nurses bring her out in just a few minutes."

As Dr. McGee disappeared behind swinging double doors George asked, “Will you let me stay with Dottie?"

Both Billy and Tracy turned towards George, but neither spoke.

“Look,” George said. “I think the world of Dottie. I owe her. I've caused her so much grief. I didn't mean to, but that's the way it turned out. Tracy, you have your job at the hardware store and a husband to look after, and Billy, you don't have anyone to help you at the Super Save but that half-witted teenager. Let me do this for you—for Dottie."

“Maybe we'd better let Dottie make the decision,” Tracy suggested.

They heard Dottie before they saw her. “This is ridiculous,” she groused. “I can walk. I don't need to be carted around in a wheelchair like a cripple."

The swinging doors swung open. “Stop this damn thing and let me walk like a normal person,” Dottie continued to complain. “Billy,” she shouted when she spotted him. “Get me out of this contraption."

“She's all yours,” the nurse said with a wink as she set the brakes on the chair.

“Get those do-hickeys out from under my feet so I can stand up, Billy."

Billy squatted down beside his mother and took her hand. “Calm down a minute, Ma. We have something to ask you."

“Well ask it and get me out of here."

“Dr. McGee wants you to stay awake for twenty-four hours."

“I know that."

“She wants someone to stay with you."

“No need for that. I'm fine."

“You don't look so fine, Dottie,” Tracy joked. “You remind me of a raccoon with those bruises under your eyes."

“Raccoons take care of themselves and I can take care of myself."

“One of us is going to stay with you Mom, whether you like it or not. The decision for you to make is which one of us would you prefer."

“I don't want either of you missing work on my account,” Dottie said with determination in her voice.

“That settles it then, Dottie,” George said. “I'll be your keeper for the next twenty-four hours."

She stared at him for several seconds and when she spoke, it was with a subdued voice. “I don't remember much about the accident, but I do remember waking up and finding your face in front of mine, George. They tell me you saved my life. I guess I owe you.” She looked at Billy. “He's going to rape me, you know."

“Mother!"

George shook his head. “I get the message,” he said. He turned and walked slowly away.

George sat in his car for a few minutes until the overwhelming desire to weep abated. He drove to his restaurant, unloaded the onions, and locked himself in his office. The tears came then. He didn't understand them, but he let them flow. Finally he reached for his handkerchief and laughed in spite of himself when he remembered why his back pocket was empty. He walked to the coffee table and pulled a handful of tissues from a box, dried his eyes and blew his nose violently. You're getting old, George, he thought.

He went back to his desk, looked up Tim Dollar's number and placed the call.

“Sandra, this is George Bennett. How are you?"

“Fine, George. And you?"

“Fair for an old man. Look, I need to get in touch with Maggie and I don't have her phone number."

Sandra hesitated. “George, I apologize for saying this, but I'm not sure Maggie wants you to have her number. I'll ask her if you like and call you back."

George made an effort to control his anger. “Maybe you'd be so good as to give her a message?"

“Of course."

“She knows that Dottie Frank was in a bad automobile accident this morning."

“Oh, George,” Sandra said, “I didn't know. Is Dottie all right?"

“Many bruises, a gash on her forehead and a concussion. She's lucky to be alive. She's at home now, but she won't be able to work for a few days. That's why I need to talk with Maggie. I thought maybe she could run Dot's Diner until Dottie is back on her feet."

“George, hold the phone a minute. I think Maggie is in the back yard."

In a few minutes, Maggie was on the line. “Of course I'll do this for you—for Dottie. Do you need me right now?"

“It's eleven o'clock, Maggie. The lunch rush will begin in less than an hour."

“I've already taken a shower after this morning's activity. I'll come right now if it's okay with Sandra. She's nodding her head. I'm on my way."

“Thanks, Maggie,” George said, but she had already hung up.

George opened his office door and nodded at several customers who seemed to be staring at him as he made his way to the cash register. Sewana stopped him.

“George, you look terrible."

“I'm just worried about Dottie Frank. I'll be okay."

“No. I mean you really look terrible. You are dirty and your clothes are filthy. You need a bath and a change of clothes."

George looked down at the front of his shirt and pants and started to laugh. “I must be getting senile, Sewana. I've been crawling on my belly through a layer of pine needles and mud and it never occurred to me that I got dirty in the process. I'm going home, Sewana. I'll see all you good people in the morning."

On the way to his home on the golf course, George waved at Maggie as her Blazer passed on the way to Dot's Diner. The old biddy will probably accuse me of trying to steal her business while she's out sick, he thought. The tears returned.

The hot churning water of the Whirl Pool relaxed his rebelling muscles and his spirits began to rise. He slid lower in the tub until only his head remained above water. “Damn it, you old biddy, I'm not done with you yet,” he said aloud just as the telephone began to ring.

He decided there was no point in trying to answer it. The machine would pick up before he could get to a phone anyway. Probably just a telemarketer, he thought. He slid back into the cradle of the tub and settled his head on the headrest. He dozed, but woke quickly as visions of a smiling Dottie Frank danced in his head. She was beckoning him to come to her.

“Old fool,” he muttered as he climbed out of the tub.