Unbelievable (5 page)

While picking out paint alone, because Cole was suddenly too busy to go with me, I called and talked him into a sage green. It would add some color to the room, and it certainly was better than beige. I bought several packing boxes for us to use in de-junking the office and some painting supplies before hurrying back over to the hospital. I loaded my arms with everything we’d need for the day, including five boxes and a gallon of paint for cutting in, along with two paint brushes. As I headed across the parking lot, the packing boxes slipped out of my arms, as did the paint brushes.

“Do you need some help?” A thin girl wearing denim
capris and a pink t-shirt with matching flip-flops walked over and gathered an armful of boxes and the brushes. She truly had the most pathetic hair I’d ever seen.

“Yes. Thanks. I’m redecorating an office. I guess I should’ve made two trips,” I explained,
grabbing everything else. It wasn’t until she smiled that I recognized her. Her high school yearbook picture didn’t do her justice. Tall—well, taller than me since I was only five-foot-two—with pretty blue eyes and a beautiful smile. Maggie Brown. Like Booker, she didn’t appear menacing in the least. I know you can’t judge a book by its cover, except I usually had a sixth sense about those on the shadier side of life. Chalk it up to years of living with my father and the riffraff that he worked with on daily bases. So far I’d felt no unnerving vibes with these people.

“Are you Lilah?” she asked as we walked inside to the elevators. I nodded and pressed the
up
arrow. “My name’s Maggie. Cole and I live together.”

My heart stopped. The girl responsible for killing my brother Alan was Cole’s live-in girlfriend? According to Daddy, she dated one of the cops.

We stepped into the elevator. Thankfully it was empty because with all my stuff we took the entire space.

“That sounded wrong,”
Maggie said with a short laugh. “He’s staying with my boyfriend Seth and me until we get married in a few weeks.”

“How exciting.” I juggled my armload of stuff and pressed the number three.

“Actually, I
hope
it will be in three weeks. I still don’t have a dress,” she admitted.

“Why?” And how in the world do you think you’re going to get it in three weeks? Most people had their dress picked out months in advance
, unless they eloped like I did and a dress wasn’t an option. Wow. That was another life time ago.

“We moved the date up at the last minute. Originally, we planned on getting married next summer after
I graduate college, and then we decided we were tired of waiting.” She shrugged. “Now I need to find a dress ASAP. To tell you the truth, I don’t really care anymore. I’m ready to get married in jeans. I’ve been to the bridal salon twice already and I can’t find the right dress. The lady who runs it is a female Darth Vader.” She shivered dramatically.

“A female what?” The doors opened. We stepped out elevator and headed to Cole’s office.

“You know, the bad guy from the Star Wars movies.”

“Oh, yeah. I
’ve never seen the movies but I’ve certainly seen all the memorabilia,” I admitted.

“You aren’t kidding,” she agreed. “Cole hasn’t seen the movies either. He’d rather read.” Maggie pushed on the office door. It was stuck again.  I pressed my back against it as she pushed again. It flew open and we stumbled in, sending the boxes everywhere. Cole jumped up from his desk and helped us gather them.

“Sorry, Mags. I really need to get that door fixed,” Cole said, setting the boxes up against his desk. “I see you’ve met Lilah.”

“Yes.” Maggie put
her armload of supplies up against the wall.

“Cole, it looks like a war zone in here. What’s going on?” I asked. The
piles of papers and notebooks that lined the walls earlier lay everywhere, along with stacks of what appeared to be random drawings.

“I’ve been going through my notes, trying to get rid of some of this. I don’t know why I’ve kept all of it,” he said, shaking his head.

“I brought your lunch, Cole. You forgot it again.” Maggie opened her oversized canvas purse and pulled out a hard plastic container.

Cole took it with a grin. “Leftovers from last night? I thought Booker ate it all when he stopped by after dinner.”

“He did, except for this.” She grinned and handed it to him. “I know that chicken Alfredo is one of your favorites so I put some aside for you.”

“Thanks, Mags. I owe you big.” Cole took the container and set it on his desk. A dangerous move if you asked me. It was about to be lost in a
clutter of papers.

“What is all this?” I asked, holding up a detailed drawing of a heart. Someone, I assumed Cole, had labeled the chambers and vessels going in and out of it, along with even more minuscule details I couldn’t make out.

Cole took the drawing, examining it as he spoke. “Whenever I observe surgery, I like to write down my impressions.” He scribbled a note in the corner and set it back down.

“That’s what Cole calls ‘fun’,” Maggie said to me, adding quote marks in the air. She turned to Cole. “And you wonder why you’re still single.” Maggie smiled playfully. “I have to run. I can come by tomorrow
morning and help if you’d like.”

“Thanks, we’ll need it.” I grimaced at the piles.

“See you at ten,” Maggie said, tugging on the door three times before it opened.

It took us four days to clear out the piles. If Maggie hadn’t helped it would’ve been longer. Cole hated parting with his drawings. Being an artist with several sketch pads of my own sitting in my apartment I sympathized completely . . . at first. When I learned that he’d transferred all but a few of them into a sketch book, it made it a lot easier to toss out the piles, for me anyway.

When I wasn’t tossing out the pictures, I was flirting up a storm with Cole. The poor guy’s ears were infused red regularly. I did things like touch his arm, b
rush the hair from his forehead, and rub shoulders as we went through the stacks. Maggie got a kick out of it, and encouraged me to keep at him whenever he wasn’t around. “He needs someone to breathe a little life into him,” she laughed as he tripped his way out the office after I brushed some hair from his forehead.

Maggie and I ate lunch together each day. Cole, who was supposed to be on vacation, got called
to help in the ER regularly by Dr. Anderson, the guy who was supposed to be covering for him. “His name should be Lazy Butt, not Anderson,” I complained.

“Lilah, that’s not very nice. He is a doctor and deserves some respect,” she said, straight-faced. “We should call him
Dr
. Lazy Butt.” We laughed to the point of tears.

Maggie encouraged Cole to stand up to Dr. Butt, only Cole insisted it was no big deal since he was already at the hospital.

By Friday, only four boxes remained. Maggie left for a dentist appointment, leaving me alone with Cole.

“What about those? Do we need to have them hauled out
, too?” I said, pointing to the boxes stacked next to the filing cabinet.

“No. Those are full of books. Real books, not notebooks.”

I walked over and pulled the tape from the seam of the top box and bent back the flaps. Cole reached in and removed a book.

“This is my pride and joy,” he beamed.

I stared down at the dilapidated leather-bound book in his hands. He lovingly caressed the cover. The title
The Complete Works of Shakespeare
had almost completely faded on the front. “It was my grandfather’s. He died of colon cancer when I was fifteen. The last month of his life I stopped by his house every day after school and read a few passages to him. He loved Shakespeare.” He turned the book over, eyeing the ragtag spine. “I really should get a new copy. This one’s hammered.” I knew by the tenderness with which he handled the book he had no intention of replacing it. It meant way too much to him. “What I should do is have this one rebound.”

“That’s a good idea. May I?” I held out my hand and he gently placed the book in it. I opened the cover and thumbed through a few pages. “Why are there so many passages highlighted?” Large sections of each page were outlined in yellow. Someone had written small notes in the margins,
just like the hundreds of drawings we’d spent the past four days tossing out.

“My grandfather did that. Like I said, he loved Shakespeare. I’ll bet he memorized most of this book over his lifetime.” He pointed to a large section of
Romeo and Juliet
that was outlined. “This is my favorite.”

“I played Juliet in our high school’s version of the play,” I said.

“I’ll bet you tortured poor Romeo.”

“Maybe,” I grinned playfully. He had my number already.

Cole closed the book, got down on one knee and held a hand out to me. “
‘But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? / It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. / Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief.’”

“‘Ay me,’” I laughed as he stood. “It seems your grandfather wasn’t the only one who memorized this book.”

“Guilty. He told me if I memorized a passage a day, I’d develop a photographic memory, and that school would be ten times easier for me, so I did.” He took the book and carefully perused the pages again.

“Did it work?”

“My memory definitely improved. I don’t know about photographic, but it’s pretty close.” He handed me back the book. “Here, test me. Open it to any page and repeat a line or two of a highlighted section. I’ll tell you the play, along with the act and scene it’s from.”

I took the book with a smirk. He wasn’t the only lover of Shakespeare in the room. My advantage? My well-versed knowledge of love quotes. I did a paper in eleventh grade on famous love quotes from Sir William’s works. I almost felt bad for what I was about to do to Cole. Almost.

I held up the book, and with longing in my eyes, I quoted, “‘Did my heart love till now.’” It was an easy one to start with in an effort to bolster his courage.

“Too easy.
Romeo and Juliet
. Act I, Scene 5.” He smiled confidently, folding his arms after waving me on.

I turned a couple of pages and tried again. “‘This bud of love by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.’”

Cole shook his head. “Act II, Scene 2, same play.”

“Okay, let’s pick a new play.” I scanned ahead and found another highlighted passage. Oh, yeah, perfect
.
I looked up at Cole. He was already rolling his eyes.

“What?” I said innocently.

“Nothing. Go ahead.”

“‘Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?’” I laughed as he buried his face in his
hand.

“
As You Like It
. Act III, Scene 5,” he said into his palm.

Then because I couldn’t resist the irony, I quoted, “‘I pray you, do not fall in love with me
/ For I am falser than vows made in wine.’”

“Same play, same scene. Lilah, humor me and pick something from a tragedy,” he said, exasperated.

“You’re not very romantic, Cole. I do believe Opie would be disappointed.” I turned to
Macbeth
, scanning through the pages until I spotted it. “Ready?”

“Is it from one of Shakespeare’s tragedies?” he pressed.

“Yes. This play is as gruesome as Sir William gets.” I grimaced. He signaled for me to continue. The guy liked this little game way too much.

“‘
A heart to love, and in that heart, Courage, to make’s love known.’” I swallowed my grin as he tossed his head back and groaned.

“What? You said a tragedy, and
Macbeth
is definitely that.” I set the book carefully back in the box, knowing we were done playing his little game.

“Come on, Juliet. Let’s go down to the cafeteria and get something to drink.” Then he added before I could quip, because I was about to, “And no, not poison.”

Chapter 5

To my surprise Maggie asked me to go wedding dress shopping with her. What my father had told me about her just didn’t add up. She wasn’t mean, or manipulative, and she certainly didn’t come across as sadistic killer, not that I knew many of those . . . aside from my brother Alan.