*****
Lying in her hospital bed, eating her last lunch before being discharged the next morning, Giselle had no idea what her afternoon would hold. The acts of mercy, as well as the large, unexpected miracle. And, so it was that with a delectable lunch of pepperoni pizza, a bubbly cold soda, and a specialty cupcake from Deliriously Decadent Cupcakes, Giselle downed every bite and every swallow.
By now she had gotten used to having specialty foods untypical to hospitals. Deep within, she knew that someone was responsible for catering to her tastes. Even so, she didn’t pursue finding her benefactor, and came to expect, with little thankfulness, the luxuries that no other patients experienced. In the back of her mind, now and then, Giselle wondered if Conyer had anything to do with the food. Well… if he did, he should! After all, it was he alone who had destroyed her career dreams. And, if he thought she would thank him for his cuisine insights, he had another think coming! No amount of meals were going to undo the irreparable damage he’d already caused her!
Looking into the small bakery box, Giselle realized there were two cupcakes temptingly laying on the ruffled doily. Both looked scrumptious, but totally different. A small card with the bakery logo was inserted beneath each cupcake. One was labeled Pudgy Fudgy Caramel Chaos, the other bore the name Flight of Fruity Fancy.
As she sat looking from one to the next, knowing that she only had room for one after having consumed the entire individual pan pizza and soda, she knew immediately which one her chocolate-addiction would favor. But, at that very moment, the notion hit her that she should go to Tawny’s room to say goodbye and share one of the cupcakes with her. For only a flickering second, she thought she would let Tawny decide which she wanted, and Giselle would eat the other. But, even in this small ministry opportunity, knowing that the young girl would probably choose the chocolate one, Giselle grabbed the wrapper, pulled it off, and stuffed the chocolate cupcake into her greedy mouth, taking a hefty bite of it. Guilt immediately engulfed her. She knew selfishness was an ugly liability, but because of the general coldness of her heart since her accident, Giselle reasoned that the cupcakes had been given to her, and Tawny was lucky she was even considering sharing one with her.
Temporarily placing the partially consumed cupcake back in the box with the untouched fruity one, Giselle crawled slowly out of bed. She could have used her crutches, or perhaps even slowly and stumblingly made her way to Tawny’s room, but how would she carry the bakery box? Not willing to take the chance of dropping it, she opted to use her wheelchair.
Balancing the bakery box on her lap, Giselle wheeled herself to Tawny’s room. Poking her head around the corner hoping to see Tawny’s smile, at which time she would wheel herself into the room and ceremoniously open the box, presenting Tawny with the fruity cupcake, she was disappointed when Tawny was a no-show. Her seemingly sacrificial gift was disingenuous anyway. Giselle was highly disappointed, since she not only wanted to say bye to Tawny, but receive the praise that Tawny would unselfishly offer for the afternoon snack.
After fifteen minutes of waiting, a nurse happened into the room. Seeing Giselle sitting in her wheelchair by Tawny’s bed, she assumed Giselle was waiting to visit with the young girl.
“Oh, are you here to see Tawny? She’s down in therapy for another…” said the nurse, checking her watch, “forty-five minutes. Maybe more, if she has the stamina.”
“Oh, well, could you give her a message for me?”
“Sure, I’d be glad to.”
Removing the chocolate cupcake from the bakery box, she placed it in her lap. She would continue eating it as she rolled herself back to her own room. Then, closing the fruity cupcake in the box, she scooted it over onto Tawny’s bedside table, knocking over a small plastic glass, filled half way with water. It splattered the liquid all over the bedside table and dribbled down onto the floor. Jumping in an effort to grab the glass before any spillage, the chocolate cupcake flew from her lap onto the floor.
Giselle first reacted with a sound that was a cross between a grunt and a moan, then decided she wasn’t willing to give up the sugary delight without a fight. Arising from her wheelchair, she barely took one step toward the now crumbly mess when she saw a nasty bloody Band-Aid laying no more than two inches from it, with a long dark brown hair laying across it. Upon inspection as she got closer, she realized the the follicle had worked itself partially across the cupcake. How that had happened, Giselle didn’t know, since the Band-Aid was there first. All she could figure was that the breeze caused by the flying cupcake had caused the hair to flutter up, then land on top of it. The sight of it now sickened Giselle, who dry-heaved twice before the nurse swooped down and grabbed it, throwing it into the wastebasket.
Had the nurse not been in the room, Giselle would have re-claimed the fruity dessert cupcake for herself. Tawny wasn’t expecting it, so she wouldn’t feel slighted. Unfortunately, however, the nurse was not only in the room, but spoke to Giselle quickly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry that you lost your cupcake! But, Tawny will be thrilled you brought her one! Who should I tell her left it for her?”
“Giselle,” She grunted out her name.
“Any message?” the nurse asked, as she removed a tissue from Tawny’s bedside table and swiped the streaks of chocolate fudge icing from the floor. Giselle had been planning to write out Doris’ phone number, in case Tawny wanted to call her after she left the hospital in the morning to go to Doris’ apartment, but she was so out-of-sorts now that she abruptly said, “No,” and wheeled herself out of the room, heading back to her own.
If Giselle had ever been in a foul mood before, it was nothing compared to her present status. She scowled all the way back to her room. And, in her angry haste, she managed to bump into the janitor’s cart in the hall, knocking over his mop, splattering dirty floor water on herself. Rather than apologizing to the janitor, however, she just raised hateful eyes toward him and said, “You shouldn’t leave things like this in the halls. Look at my gown!”
“I’m really sorry, Miss.”
Although it had been her fault, she just harrumphed his apology, and navigated around him.
*****
As Giselle awoke from her fitful afternoon nap, she turned over and glanced into the hall, just in time to see someone flitting across her line of sight. It was fleeting, at best, but Giselle thought whoever it was looked a lot like Conyer. Ugh!
She couldn’t decide if she was glad it apparently wasn’t him, so that she didn’t have to deal with him, the loser! Or, if she wished it had actually been him, so that she could verbally rage against him again for having, with no apparent remorse, ruined her life, taking away every dream she’d ever had for her future.
As a result of Conyer having been in her thoughts at that moment, it left Giselle in the most disagreeable mood one could imagine. She danced around between anger, frustration, and hopelessness.
Almost wishing it had been Conyer in the hall, she realized that that was most unlikely. The clothing worn by the fast-moving visage was unlike she could ever imagine that jerk wearing. Loose knee shorts, crazy and colorful socks, and tennis shoes. The shirt was also colorful and frankly, didn’t match the goofy socks at all. Almost circus like. For just a moment, she actually hoped it had been him, so she could add a new facet to his person: someone totally lacking in style! She didn’t really know what his typical daily clothing consisted of, but it was probably too stuffy and dignified to even wear something like she’d just seen in the hall.
While mulling over her thoughts of Conyer, disagreeable as they were, a well-dressed middle-aged man entered her hospital room. Giselle wasn’t adept at judging peoples’ ages, but she guessed him to be in his late thirties or early forties. Although he wasn’t fully regaled in a suit, he exuded class in his appearance.
In the moment before he spoke, Giselle analyzed him from head to toe. Literally, from head to toe.
First she noticed his hair. It hadn’t simply been washed, dried and com
bed. It had been “styled.” Like in one of those exorbitantly pricey downtown hair salons. Although she didn’t recognize the fragrance, she could still smell the hair glaze that accounted for the shine, not to mention its having done its job in making his hair obedient to the stylist’s wooing.
The glasses he wore on his bronzed face were easily identifiable as designer. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d seen a picture of some celebrity wearing the same ones, probably in a magazine.
Giselle found her gaze stopped for several seconds on his shirt. Although the color was a standard ivory, it was the nape of the fabric that gave pause. It appeared that the whole shirt had been cut on the diagonal, across a monochromatic plaid. It was the most unusual and fascinating fabric application Giselle had ever seen. Even though Giselle had had no textiles training, she would have been a fool to think the shirt had cost him any less than five hundred dollars, more if he’d had it made internationally and imported to the states. Giselle smiled briefly as she thought how most men would probably try to wear it with a tie. Garish! This man had known better.
Above the dark dress pants whose razor-sharp pressed seam could have sliced through a warm loaf of bread, a belt of some kind of animal skin was worn. The only break in the belt was a platinum ichthus. An ichthus? Wait a minute… that’s the fish signifying Christianity. This man was a Christian?
Sporting an interesting wedding ring of what appeared to be a design of interwoven vines, Giselle’s first thought was that some woman had hooked a “real package” here. Looks and money!
Because his bearing was straight and authoritarian, Giselle automatically assumed he was someone important. But who? And, what did he want? Was he maybe in the wrong room?
Walking directly to Giselle’s bedside, extending his hand, she at first thought he wanted to shake hands. However, since she didn’t know who he was or what he wanted, she didn’t reciprocate. Both of her hands remained across her waist over the blanket that covered her from the waist down.
“Hello, Giselle,” he said, extending what appeared to be a business card. He followed the greeting with the warmest smile she remembered ever seeing, one completely guileless. She reacted with her own smile. Hers, however, was seated on a fence with one leg dangling on each side… one on the side of welcome and the other of wariness. She couldn’t seem to decide which would win out.
As Giselle finally took hold of the card he offered, he continued speaking.
“If you’ll look at my card, you’ll see I am with the law firm, Leonard, Leonard, Barrett & Crayton. I’m the least of the foursome. My name’s Daniel Crayton.” He smiled at this point, and Giselle couldn’t help smiling back. He had one of those faces that invited trust. Good, bad, or indifferent, she had the feeling that whatever he was selling, she’d be buying.
Chapter 13
“So if you’ll just sign here…” he said, as he pointed to the line with the red “X” marked before it, “and initial here, here, here, and… here,” as he flipped to each page and appropriate signature line. Giselle thought she’d asked all the right questions, but the truth was she had no idea if she had. She’d never totaled a car before, nor had her parents not been around to take care of all her needs, including reading and evaluating any legal documents or contracts. She obediently signed or initialed, however, at each location Daniel indicated.
“So, Miss Danvers, how would you like to take delivery on your new car? I’m assuming you’ll want it delivered to your home address. And, of course, I’ll meet you there to help you take possession from the dealer’s delivery service. At that time, you can sign the insurance papers. We’ve taken the liberty of insuring the car for both collision and liability, with, of course, no deductible.” Giselle thought she was with him. Everything made sense, except for the “liability” phrase.
“Can you explain once more how the “collision and liability” thing works?”
“Of course. It would be the same as your old car.”
“Mr. Crayton, the only coverage I had on my old car was paid for by my parents. And, it was only to protect anyone I hit. The car wouldn’t have been repaired or replaced. If you’d seen it, even before the crash, you’d understand.”
Daniel smiled at Giselle. To him, she seemed like such an innocent. It was actually hard for him to believe that she was a legal adult. She must have really been protected and cared for by her parents.
After Daniel explained in layman’s terms, making sure Giselle understood thoroughly, he made one more declarative statement.
“Oh… lest I forget. When the car is delivered, at that time I’ll also turn over a check in the amount of one thousand dollars, which is the one-year gasoline budget for you.
“Oh, I forgot all about the picture of your new car.” With this statement, Daniel removed a large magazine picture of the brand new white SUV from his brief case and handed it over to Giselle.
When Giselle’s mouth flew open, Daniel agreed. “Beautiful, isn’t it?!”
“Mr. Crayton, it’s the most beautiful car I’ve ever seen! I thought maybe insurance on the… ‘offending party’s’ part would maybe get me a slightly newer clunker than I had. It never occurred to me that I’d get a brand new car. With insurance paid for one year, and a gas allowance!
“Now, at the end of that first year, I begin insurance payments and pay for my own gas, right?”
“Exactly.”
Thank you so much for all you’ve done, Mr. Crayton. You’ve just been so helpful. I’m so grateful.”
“Well, I only am taking care of the transferal funds and legal documents as per my client’s instructions, but you’re most welcome. I am so sorry about the whole accident, and hope that you’ll recover soon and completely. I’ve been praying for you ever since I heard of the incident. My wife and I both have.”
“Your client’s instructions?” Giselle interrupted. “What do you mean? This is just an insurance thing, isn’t it?” Again she asked, “Your client’s instructions?”
Although he was already edging toward the door, he stopped fully and responded to her question.
“Yes. My client. I believe you know him. Conyer…?” He didn’t have time to even speak his last name (which Giselle still didn’t know), before Giselle jumped in with heated speech.
“What do you mean… his ‘instructions’?” She used her hands to make air quotes around the term.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you understood. No insurance is being used. My instructions were to sign over this car to you, and advise of both the insurance and gasoline allowances.”
“So, now I’m beholding to him for gracing me with a new car, and some arbitrarily decided upon gas allowance?! This accident was not my fault. And, my dancing career is over! Does he think that buying me a car is going to make this whole thing go away?!” The venom with which Giselle spoke left Daniel no doubt whatsoever that she held Conyer fully responsible for the mayhem - the total disaster - in her life.
“Miss Danvers, about the car crash. You do know that it was not…”
“What?! Not what he planned to do that day to me?! And yet, that is exactly what he did!”
“Actually, what I was going to say was that the car accident wasn’t…”
“Mr. Crayton,” Giselle interrupted yet again, “I’m going to accept this car, the insurance, and the gasoline allowance money, because I deserve it, and so much more, after what he’s done. But, if he thinks this makes everything right, he’s very, very wrong!”
“I’ll relay your sentiments to him.”
“Yes, see that you do. And, as for you, Mr. Crayton,” she said, as she looked at his business card, still in her hand, “I’ll call you when I can give you both the address I’ll be staying at and a time that will be convenient for me to take possession of my car.”
“Thank you, Miss Danvers.” As he walked from Giselle’s hospital room, Daniel’s eyes flew open, as he rolled his eyes and silently mouthed, “Unbelievable!”
Chapter 14
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she heatedly began. “He thinks that because he’s bought this car to replace my old one, come by a couple of times to say hi, and complimented me on my nail wraps that he’s off the hook for everything?! What an idiot!”
Having just spoken of the nail wraps she’d ripped off her own fingers, she looked down at her hands. Awsty had never found the time to come back and put new ones on her. And, if that weren’t enough, the skin around her cuticles looked cracked, dry and generally unkempt.
Reaching over to her bedside table to grab the hand cream Doris had told Giselle she could have when she herself was packing to go home from the hospital, Giselle’s vision drifted over the hand cream to a stack of envelopes also on the table top. Some were plain enough, just white paper in white envelopes, with computer typed messages. But, others were beautiful cards, not only with sweet, thoughtful messages of well wishes, but handwritten hopes for her recovery, each having some Bible verse reference added that gave Giselle encouragement at moments when it was so needed.
Pulling the stack of six notes, she re-opened each of them, re-read them, neatly placed them back in their envelopes and stacked them on the blanket resting over her lower torso and legs. Almost immediately, however, she re-opened two. One typed and one handwritten one. She examined them side-by-side.
Isn’t that interesting the way Connie wrote some on these beautiful greeting cards and others on white paper? It shows how multi-faceted his personality is that sometimes he writes such casual messages, and other times the depth of his spirituality shows through so clearly.
Fixing His Broken Ballerina: Volume 1 Page 10