MAYBE BABY

by ANDREA SMITH

  “Denise,” I said, turning to her and smiling, “I love it!”

  I gave her a big hug and watched as she beamed proudly.

  It was a little after five when my dinner tray was brought in. Denise and I had been chatting away, losing track of the time. This was my first meal post unconsciousness. I was famished. Denise was busy putting her tools of the trade away in her case.

  “You go on and eat, honey. Don’t mind me,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

  “I phoned Ray from my cell phone about ten minutes ago. He is bringing your stuff to you, and then we are going to grab a bucket of cluck on our way back to my place.”

  I lifted the stainless steel dome off of the platter. I found filet mignon, cooked medium exactly the way I liked it. There was a baked potato, asparagus with Hollandaise sauce, and dessert was Crème Brule.

  (Wow! Fancy fare for a hospital.)

  A slim vase was on my tray with a single red rose in it. I had just finished up, Denise was watching the news when Ray came back in to drop off my stuff and pick up Denise. He carried a wrapped box in his hand, along with my cell phone and charger. He placed the box down on my bed tray.

  “What’s this?" I asked peering at the gift-wrapped box.

  “Oh,” he shrugged, “I think maybe Jenna felt guilty about what happened. Instead of going into your cottage as I requested to gather some, eh, personal items for you, she went out shopping. She said that this would do you fine, and to give you her best wishes.”

  “Open it,” Denise directed excitedly.

  I complied, tearing the wrapping paper off, opening the box and pulling out the tissue paper to see what was inside.

  (Oh, my.)

  The box contained a black silk thong; there was a black silk bustier camisole type configuration. I doubted as to whether it would cover my belly button.

  Ray blushed for the first time ever. Denise gave a startled ‘Oh My God’!

  “Are you gonna put that on?” she asked, followed by, “I bet that will look great with your new hair style!”

  I was in shock. I turned the box over to see what kind of store sold such tacky lingerie. The print on the box read, 'Fred-X of Follywood.’ I felt my cheeks redden with embarrassment and anger. Jenna struck again it seemed. (Triple skank!)

  Ray chimed in, trying to distract me from the tacky gift.

  “By the way Ty, I really do like your new hairstyle, and believe me; I'm not just saying that because I love Denise. You remind me of someone, I just can’t place it at the moment, but you really do look great!”

  “Thanks, Ray,” I replied, “Denise is awesome. I love it, too.”

  “Tell you what,” Ray continued, “Neecie and I will get out of your way. It’s been a long day for you, I know. We’ll see you when you get back to the ranch, okay? You get some rest.”

  “Thank you, both. It really means a lot to me what you have done.”

  They both gave me a warm hug and kiss. I heard them giggling as they left my room. I had no doubt whatsoever it had to do with Jenna’s gift. I bet that bucket of cluck was cold by the time they got to it. I giggled out loud, putting the lid back on the box.

  I pulled the single rose from the vase, raising it up to my face, breathing in the sweet scent. I thought of Trey again. Had I only imagined that there was chemistry between us? Was it simply wishful thinking on my part? I placed the rose back into the vase. I was feeling somewhat forlorn.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I was alone in my hospital room for the first time in days. I tried to figure out what to do next. I still hoped that Trey would stop back by to say goodnight. It was only eight o’clock but I figured I might as well get dressed for bed.

  I pulled the tags off the thong and then the bustier camisole. I took them to my bathroom and put them on. My God, I loved the feel of the silk, but it appeared Jenna had purchased the top in a couple of sizes too small for me. My breasts practically spilled out over the lace trimmed bodice of the bustier. She had done this on purpose, I could tell!

  “Damn you Jenna,” I cursed her aloud.

  I was too tired to hunt down a clean hospital gown. The one I had taken off smelled of the hair chemicals. All I wanted now was to brush my teeth and crawl into my hospital bed and read until I fell asleep.

  I finished up in the bathroom, taking another quick assessment of my new hairdo in the mirror. It really was flattering. I finger combed it out a bit, allowing the long layers to do their job framing my face. I was satisfied with my new look, except for the whore house underwear that Jenna had sent. Maybe I would buzz the nurse’s station for a clean gown after all. I switched off the bathroom light and headed back out to my room.

  I didn’t see him as I leaned over to pull the chain to illuminate the fluorescent reading light on the wall behind my hospital bed. As I turned toward the table to locate the button to call the nurse, the sound of his smooth, silky voice startled me.

  “Well, Ms. Preston, I see hospital garb suits you well.” I jumped and looked in the direction of the voice. Trey was half sitting, have sprawled out in the only cushioned chair in the room.

  He had taken his suit jacket off and tossed it over the back of the chair. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top; his tie loosened. The sleeves of his french cuffed shirt were rolled up to just below his elbows. His sapphire blue eyes seemed even darker as they flickered appreciatively over my body, coming to rest on the generous cleavage created by the too small camisole.

  (Where the hell has he been since he left?)

  I scrambled into my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, blushing and glaring at him in unison. He chuckled displaying that magnificent dimple.

  “That kind of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it, Ms. Preston?”

  “And what purpose would that be, Mr. Sinclair,” I queried.

  “The purpose of displaying your lovely charms for all to see and enjoy,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “What possible motive would I have for that?” I snapped.

  “Trolling for doctors, perhaps?”

  “Isn't that your job counselor?"I replied smugly.

  “I don’t practice that kind of law,” he retorted though

  a hint of amusement flickered across that scrumptious face.

  (Where has he been?)

  He got on his feet and approached the side of my bed. He lifted a lock of my newly highlighted, layered hair, gently rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. Oh, what fresh hell is this, I thought, shivering inside.

  I like it,” he said thoughtfully. “Denise did a very nice job on your hair.”

  “Thank you,” I managed a smile.

  “Did you enjoy your dinner?” he asked. “I made special arrangements for your meal this evening. I instructed them to give you a red rose as well. It appears that they complied.”

  He laid the red rose on my bedside table. I couldn’t imagine anyone not complying with his instructions. He was quite commanding and bossy.

  “It was very nice, thank you.” I blushed.

  “I am curious to know where you got your, uh, pj’s for lack of a better word?”

  “Jenna, who else.” I said, disgusted. “Denise asked her to stop by my cottage and pick up some of my things, but this was Jenna’s idea of a conciliatory gesture.”

  “I see,” he said softly, “And you don’t like the olive branch she offered?”

  “Well, it’s not exactly my style in case you haven’t noticed – not to mention it’s too small at the top. Probably Jenna’s way of letting me know I’m built like a boy or something,” I replied, shrugging.

  “I hardly think so,” he said a bit derisively. “You’re quite exquisite you know.”

  I flushed under the complement, not quite sure how to respond to this unfamiliar territory. Perhaps a change of subject –

  “Tre… I mean Mr. Sinclair?” I started.

  “Please, let’s dispense with this ‘Mr. Sinclair’ nonsense once and for all,” he sa
id curtly, waving his hand dismissively. “After all, I’ve seen parts of you that clothes would never cover if it were up to me over the course of this past week,” he chuckled. “It’s Trey, at least for now, okay?”

  What the hell did he mean when he said he saw parts of me this past week? What kind of hospital did not take appropriate steps to protect an unconscious patient’s privacy? I considered that he was simply yanking my chain. I preferred to go with that.

  “What were you about to ask me, Tylar?”

  “Oh, yes, um would you mind grabbing my hospital gown off the hook in the bathroom? I think I would be more comfortable in it.”

  “I’m sure you would, but I wouldn’t,” he teased.

  I was about to give him a snotty retort, but he held up his hand, sensing my irritation, warding off my response.

  “I think I can offer you something that will be more comfortable and provide you with the modesty you desire,” he said.

  He walked over to the chair and picked up a shopping bag next to it. He placed it next to me on the bed, indicating for me to look inside. I opened it and removed a tissue wrapped bundle from inside. The tissue was sealed with the scrolled “VS” gold seal. Whatever was inside couldn’t be any worse than the Fred-X of Follywood trashy lingerie I was currently wearing. I opened the seal and lifted a pink terrycloth bathrobe from the tissue. It was soft and fluffy as I rubbed it up against my cheek. It had matching terrycloth belt that tied around it. There was a “VS” silk embroidered emblem on the front panel.

  "Trey, thank you, I love it.” I said appreciatively, clutching it tightly.

  “There’s more,” he said with amusement, “Keep going.”

  I tilted the bag and found a matching pair of pink fluffy slippers inside, and another tissue wrapped package at the bottom. I opened the wrapped package and pulled out a pink satin nightie. It had spaghetti straps and was full length, with a slit up one side to just above the knee. It was sexy yet comfortable and classy. There was also a pair of bikini panties that matched. I liked that he saw to my comfort while appealing to my need to feel sexy, too.

  “I think you will be comfortable in these and retain some modesty as well,” he offered, waiting for my reaction.

  “These are beautiful,” I breathed, brushing the satin nightgown against my cheek. "Thank you, Trey. I really love them all.”

  He was pleased that I was pleased.

  “Why don’t you change into them?” he suggested. Good thinking , but there was no way in hell I planned on getting out of this bed and parading my thonged ass past him in order to get to the bathroom. Trey realized my dilemma, but made no attempt to move, instead, cocking his eyebrow and sporting a devilish grin. I then realized the bed sheet had dropped to my lap. I was inadvertently presenting him with an unobscured view of my ready-to-spill-over breasts. Trey made no secret of perusing them.

  “Do you mind?" I snapped, pulling the sheets up to my chin again. “Some privacy would be nice.”

  Trey was still grinning like a cad, but finally stood up and sauntered to the door.

  “I’ll be back in three minutes and ready or not, Tylar, I will come in.”

  I flew into action, knowing that he meant what he said. I scrambled up off of the bed, tearing off the too tight camisole, flinging it to the floor. I wriggled out of the thong, pushing it, along with the camisole under the bed with my foot. I scooped up the satin night gown; putting it over my head and feeling it float down perfectly into place. Grabbing the pink silk panties I shimmied into them, grateful for the comfort they provided over the butt floss I had been wearing. I unfolded the pink terrycloth robe, and carefully inserted the robe’s belt through each of the belt loops, making sure each end of it hung even on both sides. I shrugged into the robe, pulling it closed, and tied the belt into a knot in front. Lastly, I wiggled each foot into a pink fluffy slipper. Finished, I climbed back into my hospital bed, stretching out on top of the covers, more comfortable than I had been in a long time. I finger combed my hair again, pulling the shawl collar of the robe up so my neck was covered.

  In less than thirty seconds Trey entered the room. He stopped short, giving me a pissy frown when he saw that I was cinched up tightly safe from his bold stare and lingering perusal.

  “Comfortable, Tylar?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes quite comfortable, thank you, Trey. You did an excellent job in selection and everything fits perfectly.”

  “I’m glad,” he replied, “Though I might’ve re-thought the robe in retrospect. If you are chilly, I can turn down the A/C in your room?” he nodded his head toward the wall thermostat.

  “No, its fine, it’s all good,” I said, giving him a sweet, angelic smile.

  “Ok, then,” he continued, his efforts thwarted for the moment, but he didn’t appear all that slighted.

  “You and I need to discuss a few matters, that is, if you’re not too tired at the moment?”

  “I’m fine,” I answered, “In fact, I feel almost back to normal. I bet I get released tomorrow.”

  “Actually, Tylar, you were released today,” he said. “I insisted they keep you over at least another day or two so that arrangements can be made.”

  What? How could he decide when I could leave the hospital? What arrangements was he talking about? I forced myself to chill out. He had been generous to me with his time and money. My only worry was how much these extra days would cost?

  “I’m not sure what you mean about arrangements, Mr. Sinclair.”

  He frowned slightly, but decided to ignore the regression back to surnames for the moment.

  “Tylar, several of the staff members, along with me have attempted multiple times to reach your mother on the number listed in your personnel file. The number is no longer a valid cell phone number. It could have been put into our computer system in error. I would like for you to phone her now please.”

  “I have no problem calling my mom,” I replied, “But wouldn’t she be a little late to the party since I’m fine now?”

  “My point is, Tylar,” he continued patiently, “Is that your mother will likely want you to return home for a couple of weeks, to fully convalesce under her care. Any type of concussion can have lingering effects; it’s important to minimize the risk of further complications. Your work here with the horses is the type of risk I am talking about.”

  I cut him off abruptly.

  “So, you’re firing me?” I halfway screamed.

  I was pissed and there was no hiding it now.

  “Calm down,” he warned, “Or this conversation ends right now."

  The edge in his voice told me he meant business. I wanted to rake my fingernails down his face and pictured myself doing it. It helped.

  “You are not fired, yet,” he responded slowly. “My concern is genuinely for your full recovery. I don’t want to take any chances of you getting injured as a result of resuming your full-time duties at the stables prematurely. I presumed you would want to be home with your family to recuperate. I certainly will not force you to go. I will ask that before you fully resume your duties with the horses you are cleared by a doctor to do so. There is a matter of liability on the part of Sinclair Stables to ensure you are fit for duty upon returning to work.”

  (Sigh – yes, counselor).

  “First off,” I croaked, my Demi Moore voice was back. “My family is just my mom. It’s always been just been Mom and me.”

  “I see,” he replied. “So your father is totally out of the picture?”

  (Objection: Asked and answered!)

  “I don’t remember him if that is what you’re asking. He left Mom and me when I was about a year old. They divorced."

  “What kind of a man doesn’t contact his daughter?” Trey mumbled more to himself than to me, shaking his head in disgust.

  “He did send money, though,” I offered.

  It was important for some reason that Trey did not view me as total trailer trash.

  “He paid for our house, and sent Mom money
for me until I turned eighteen. About the hospital bill, I have some money in my college trust. There’s almost $50,000 the last time I checked the balance. That was right before I left to come here. I can pay my hospital bill out of that. I really don’t want you to feel responsible for picking up the tab on something caused by my own poor judgment, Mr. Sinclair.”

  “Damn it, Tylar,” he snapped, “I don’t want you to worry about the hospital bill. I will cover it, do you understand? I am not interested in having you exhaust your college funds when I can well afford to pay it.”

  “But I feel responsible” – I interrupted.

  (Uh-oh, bad move on my part).

  He raked both hands through his thick hair, and then looked at me with blue eyes blazing.

  “And just what does that accomplish? So you don’t finish college, then what? You find some nice good ‘ole boy to share his trailer with you? Maybe raise a pack of brats until he moves on to another trailer, stealing the best years of your life?”

  That was a low blow, even for a lawyer.

  “I didn’t deserve that!” I hissed. “Maybe I wasn’t born into wealth and privilege like some assholes I know, but I do have pride and dignity, and I don’t take hand-outs or charity from anyone, especially self-absorbed pricks like you!”

  Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. I was furious with him but my tears were a sign of weakness and defeat. I turned my face away, wanting more than anything to deny him the satisfaction of seeing me as a defenseless, pitiful baby who couldn’t handle her own affairs, or resolve her own mistakes.

  He was at the side of my bed in a flash, turning my chin, forcing me to look at him. I hated that he saw the tear roll down my cheek, though I hadn’t started sobbing yet. He was down on his haunches, face level with me. He brushed his thumb down my right cheek, catching the tear that rolled down it.

  “Hey, now,” he spoke softly, his anger dissipating. “You are right, I was out of line with what I said, Tylar. I had no right to say something like that to you. I don’t know what I was thinking except that I wanted you to accept what I was offering and was mad when you refused it. I’m sorry baby.”