The Vicarage Bench Anthology (11 page)

“I told you that’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s too far to walk there and back in time.”

“Damnation, woman, take a taxi if that’s all that’s bothering you.”

“I don’t have money for taxis all the time. We don’t all live luxurious lives—many of us have to watch our pennies.”

“Sh…oot!” Frustration seethed throughout her system, and her kind heart couldn’t ignore it.

“Fine, we’ll do a quick stop. I’ll tell the Poppets I need to get to work a bit earlier, which isn’t a fib because I really should.”

“Who are the Poppets?”

“It’s my pet name for the grandparents. Years ago I had a friend who lived down the lane. She was a tiny child and her mum called her Poppet all the time. As I became older and grew a lot taller than my grandparents, I began to think of them in that way. Just don’t ever tell them I call them by such a foolish nickname. It would tickle Gran, but I’m afraid Grandfather might not understand at all. It would probably anger him.”

“Oh, we couldn’t have that, now, could we? Silly old fool! It beats me why you and your grandmother put up with his ways.”

Her instant fury didn’t bode well for him. “Probably the same reason I’m putting up with you. I have a huge tolerance for fools. Now, not another word, or I swear I will stay in this bed and hum so loud I won’t hear you.”

He faded.

She jumped out from under her warm covers and rushed through her morning routine, fixing her hair, cleaning her teeth and creaming her skin. A short time later, perusing her wardrobe, Carrie looked for the tailored grey suit she wore most Mondays to school. On her meager finances, she had a limited wardrobe of work clothes, choosing between the same few outfits and dressing them up with scarves, pins and a selection of carefully selected blouses and sweaters. She had an instinctive knowledge of the colors and styles that best suited her, which kept her from making many fashion mistakes, and invariably she looked quite striking. It helped, as well, that the few clothes she did own were of good quality to begin with and draped her graceful figure with a classy style that many women envied.

“Are these the only clothes you own?” His surprised reaction put her on guard until she felt the sincere interest behind his question.

“Yes, why?”

“My sister’s and my mother’s closets are the size of your whole room and they’re full to bursting. I never knew there were women who could make do with such a small supply.”

“It must be lovely to have a great many things to choose from.” She didn’t try to hide the yearning note that crept into her tone. “Some mornings I look at my choices, and each article has been worn so many times, and in so many ways, it’s a challenge to freshen them up. But I do love a challenge, so I try my best.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Living at home must cut down on expenses for you.”

“Yes, but I give most of my income to help support the house and assist with the Poppets’ costs, not that you need concern yourself with this.”

“You give your money to your grandfather?”

How is it that a spirit can yell, she wondered.

“No! I help out my grandmother. And we won’t discuss this anymore, thank you.” Her tone brooked no arguments.

“Sorry.”

Changing the subject seemed to be the most prudent way to handle his uneven disposition. “You know I’m a teacher but I have no idea what your profession is.” An impertinent question popped into her mind and, without further ado, she blurted it out. “Do you live alone?”

“Yes, sort of. I live in the penthouse apartment at my casino in Las Vegas, Nevada.”

“You own a casino? How fascinating is that! What’s it called?”

“It’s called The Parks Casino and it’s on Las Vegas Boulevard, which is otherwise known as The Strip. It has only six hundred and fifty-four rooms, small compared to others still in the planning stages.”

“You are truly lucky. I’ve seen pictures in magazines of Las Vegas with all the colored lights and fabulous buildings. Your life must be so full and interesting. How did you become a casino owner?”

“I started out as a gambler. I was pretty good, if I do say so myself, but I learned one important lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“The house always wins. I decided to switch sides, from gambler to owner. After some high-stakes poker games where I won big, I used the money to build my own place. It’s opulent, still in the beginning stages, and has a million things needing to be ironed out to get it up and running smoothly, which is why it’s extremely important for me to get back there. I left my brother…”

“Ashley! And your sister’s name is Scarlett.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at her brilliance.

“How did you guess?”

“Easy. Gone with the Wind is one of my favorite movies.”

With a deep sigh, he answered, “Yes, you’re right, of course. Ashley is my brother’s name. I left him in charge, thinking I would only be gone for four days, tops. He bugged me to trust him and leave him as boss while I transported our father’s body here to England for burial. But I wouldn’t have left so much on his shoulders if I’d known I’d be detained longer.”

Her soft heart heard the misery in his tones and she reassured him. “Not to worry. We’ll be at the hospital soon and, once there, you might see some positive signs. With any luck, I’ll be able to leave you there. Now, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

She hoped he didn’t take offence at how cheerful she became at the thought of his departure from her personal space. It wasn’t so much that she hated his being with her; she just wanted to see the man reunited. In the quick glimpse she’d had of him, he’d left a lasting impression. He had to be the handsomest man she had ever laid eyes on, and that was with her favorite male cinema idols added into the equation, as well.

She dressed quickly. Knowing he was aware of her nakedness filled her with an intense shyness, even if he couldn’t see her body.

Her grandmother was busy wiping the countertops, flitting around the kitchen, humming under her breath, when Carrie glided into the room. “Oh, my goodness, darling, you startled me! What are you doing up at this hour? Why, what a silly question—of course you’ll be going in to the school early. You are so efficient. Those children are lucky to have such a caring and capable person to be their teacher.”

Catching her breath, she stood with the towel clutched in her tiny, birdlike hands and beamed at her attractive granddaughter. She nodded her head and giggled.

“Silly me, you’ll be hungry. I’ll just fry up some eggs and make toast for you.”

Carrie put her arms around the frail shoulders and squeezed. “No, thank you, my love. I’ll eat something at the hosp-, ah, school later. I really must be off now. Bye-bye.”

* * *

The white-haired woman gazed out the window, watching her granddaughter walk up the brick path and stop to smell a scarlet rose. A stop she made most mornings.

The old man approached, his slippers muting the sound of his arrival. “Who were you nattering with? Or are you getting even more dotty, talking to yourself?” The old whinger acted as pleasant in the morning as later in the day.

“Oh, you silly man. About scared me half to death, sneaking up like that,” Carrie’s grandmother said in the tittering way she knew would annoy him. “I was just saying goodbye to Carrie. She’s leaving early today.”

“Confound it, where is she going at this time in the morning? Normally the lazy girl hugs her mattress until the last minute.”

“She’s off to work, and you know very well that she’s never lazy. She sleeps in because she’s usually up until all hours marking papers.”

What the old woman didn’t tell him was that Carrie had forgotten her briefcase, an unheard of occurrence, and that the school’s doors didn’t open for at least another hour. She also didn’t tell him that their granddaughter had an unusual sparkle in her eyes and that Carrie’s normally brisk steps had slowed to a saunter, revealing a new sexiness in her swaying hips.

“That girl needs a husband.”

“That girl’s glowing.”

“Eh, what?”

“Nothing, my sweet man, nothing.”

“Harrumph.”

Chapter Four

By the time Carrie arrived at the hospital, she was footsore and sweating and had more adrenaline pumping than she could ever remember feeling.

“I can’t believe you walked all this way. I told you to take a cab. Look how much time you’ve wasted.”

“And I told you, if you don’t stop your crabbing I will sit right down and not move. You are the most annoying man. If I explained it once, I’ve explained it a hundred times—I don’t have the money for taxicabs.”

“Okay, we’ll fix that shortly. Let’s find out what they’ve done with me, and be forceful with these people. It’s what they understand. No wishy-washy, polite chatter.”

The nurse who approached wore a starched white cap and a uniform that rustled as she moved. She presented a force to be reckoned with. The pin over her left breast showed her to be a staff nurse by the name of Miss Freise.

In a no-nonsense voice, she questioned, “May I help you?”

Carrie stiffened her spine both mentally and physically. With utmost charm she said, “Good morning, Nurse Freise. My name is Miss Carrie Temple, and I was with Mr. Parks yesterday when the, um, situation occurred. I’d like to see him for a short while, if at all possible.”

“Oh, for heavens’ sake!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Temple, visiting hours won’t be until after lunch. There is no possible…”

“Nurse, I will see Mr. Parks immediately. I have been instructed, and given authorization, by his brother, Mr. Ashley Parks, to represent the family until such time as he appears. I have promised them a full report with my personal update as to Mr. Parks’ condition this morning. You will take me to him. Now.”

Carrie sympathized with the nurse, who scurried around the counter and beckoned her to follow. Carrie’s voice had been unrecognizable with his harangue. Even she had trouble accepting that the words, spoken in such a manner, had come from her own lips.

“That’s how you get things done. Pay attention and learn from the master.”

“You’re nothing but a big bully.”

“Maybe, but it works, doesn’t it?”

The nurse opened the door to a small, stark, private room. White glistened everywhere, from the bedclothes tucked around the sleeping man to the white walls and the white ceramic tiles on the floor. The only relief was provided by the fluttering green leaves of the poplar tree that filled the window at the left of the bed.

Other than the intravenous drip, the lack of medical equipment puzzled her until she realized the fellow in the bed breathed normally. In fact, he looked to be peacefully sleeping.

It was obvious the nurses had shaved the sleeping man, as an aftershave, the same one her grandfather used, gave off its spicy odor. Rhett’s dark brown hair, freshly washed and left to dry naturally, had shiny waves curling up at the ends, softening his features. She envied his serene expression.

There was a definite resemblance to Clark Gable, the actor who played the part of Rhett Butler in the movie Gone with the Wind. Whether this was an illusion the brain played because of the name she wasn’t certain, but except for the missing moustache the man lying in front of her could have been the actor’s double.

Carrie approached the bed and unconsciously stroked the hand lying nearest her, the gentle pressure indicative of her response to seeing the good-looking brute again. The mixture of sensations—attraction, sorrow and hope—flustered her.

Suddenly, a force within urged her to grab the peaceful man and shake him silly. Slapping his face from side to side was the desperate act that forced her to take back control. With grim determination, she stepped away from the bed, clenched her hands, and groaned.

“Will you stop it? Hitting him—you—isn’t going to help.”

“Okay, yes, you’re right. I have a better idea. Lie down next to me. Maybe if I can get close to my body, I can be absorbed back into it. Anything’s worth a try.”

“I can’t lie down on the hospital b-…”

“Just do it. Quick, before Godzilla gets back.”

Carrie plunked her small handbag and gloves down on the night table and slipped off her black pumps. Lowering the bedrail on her side, she climbed onto the bed and eased herself next to Rhett’s body. Her weight sagged the mattress and had his form rolling over towards her, pinning her smaller shape slightly under him.

She nudged him back into place with her hand pressed against his chest, and the warmth from his body reassured her. With her eyes closed, she intentionally encouraged the force inside her to take over, willing his essence back into his own body. She melded her strength with his.

Before too long, however, she sighed with discouragement, forced her eyes open, and let her body slump. She scanned the man’s features and lost herself in his charms. His thick eyebrows were shiny and formed around his eyes in a way that made one wonder if he had them shaped.

“Don’t be foolish. It’s the way they grow.”

Carrie’s heart raced from getting caught in her speculation. In that moment she realized nothing was sacred. If he wanted to, he could read her every thought. For the first time since being a child, she reacted to a situation without forethought.

“Sod off! It was a compliment. You have strong features, and your eyebrows add softness to your face. They save you from completely resembling the devil you’re acting like.” Irritation erupted and had her unthinkingly copying her students’ slang, along with the craziest impulse to stick out her tongue and say, “So there!”

“I thought you’d decided I looked like Clark Gable’s double. Silly woman! Get down quickly. There’s something you must do before we leave.”

“No!” Being called silly infuriated Carrie. She never acted silly—ever. “I don’t want to do anything more for you. You haven’t appreciated anything I’ve done so far. You just complain.”

“Sorry, you’re right. But this is important, and it’ll benefit you also. Stop pouting now, and be a good girl.”

The man’s silver tongue could coax a corpse. Warmth engulfed her.

“Oh, all right. What now?”

“Go to the night table and search for my personal belongings. My wallet should be there.”