by Sandra Brown
He’d served in the United States Navy for fifteen years before mustering out, and while he didn’t miss the months at sea, he looked back fondly on the freedom from responsibility he’d enjoyed as a sailor. He’d never desired to be an officer and was still better at taking orders than issuing them.
One spring while on shore leave in Galveston, he’d met a young woman on the beach, fallen in love, and married her within a month. When it came time for him to reenlist, she urged him not to and relocated them to her hometown of Eden Pass so that she could be close to her mother.
They probably would have been better off staying in the service, Ollie thought now as he moved to aisle 5, where the shelves were neatly stocked with flour, sugar, spices, and shortening. His wife’s family had never welcomed him into the fold. Ollie hailed from “up north somewhar,” and, in their estimation, the only thing worse than being a Yankee would be to have an ethnic heritage. That he was Anglo made him tolerable—barely.
After twenty years, he still wasn’t crazy about his in-laws, and vice versa. The bloom of love had long since faded from his marriage. Now, about the only thing he and his wife had in common was their boy, Tanner.
In their individual ways, they doted on him. His mother frequently embarrassed him with her overt demonstrations of affection. She’d been unable to conceive after Tanner—a condition that she implied was Ollie’s shortcoming, not hers—so she fussed over him like a mama bear with her cub. It tickled her pink that he was Heather Winston’s steady. Having her son dating the most popular girl at the high school somehow elevated her social standing among her friends.
Ollie had nothing against Heather. She was as cute as a button, friendly, full of pep. He only hoped that Tanner didn’t let the romance get out of hand. He’d hate to see his son’s future compromised by healthy lust.
Frequently Ollie looked at Tanner and marveled over the genetic quirk that had produced from his seed, and his wife’s lackluster bloodline, such a smart, good-looking boy. Thank God he was athletic. If he’d wanted to play an instrument in the marching band, or had aspired to be a chemist or a rocket scientist, his relatives would have shunned him as a weirdo. But Tanner could kick and throw and carry a football, so he was affectionately walloped and jabbed and hugged by his rowdy cousins and uncles. They claimed him as theirs and conveniently forgot that Ollie was physically responsible for his origin.
Ollie didn’t mind. Tanner was his, and he nearly busted his buttons every Friday night when number twenty-two charged onto the football field wearing the crimson and black of the Fighting Devils. The approaching season promised to be Tanner’s best one yet.
Ollie finished straightening the cans of Crisco, rounded the sale display of Nabisco cookies at the end of the aisle, and entered aisle 4—coffee, tea, and canned beverages. Two women were moving along the aisle. The younger was pushing the cart while the older consulted a shopping list.
“Good morning, Miss Janellen, Mrs. Tackett,” Ollie said pleasantly. “How are you this morning?” He’d never quite gotten the knack of saying “y’all.” This deficiency in his vocabulary still branded him a Yankee outsider.
“Good morning, Mr. Hoskins,” Janellen replied.
“Ollie, have the butcher cut us three T-bone steaks, one inch thick. And I don’t mean seven-eighths. Last time they were cut much too thin and were so tough we couldn’t chew them.”
“I apologize, Mrs. Tackett. I’ll make certain it’s done to your liking this time.” Just as Miss Janellen could always be counted on for a smile, he could depend on Jody Tackett to be a bitch. Lying, he said, “It’s good to see you up and about.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He was only trying to make friendly conversation. By the way she snapped at him, you’d think he’d insulted her. “Why, no reason,” he said, feeling his bow tie growing tighter around his neck. “I’d just heard you weren’t feeling well these days. But you know how gossip travels.”
“I’m feeling great. As you can see.”
“Mama and I haven’t been shopping together in a long time.” Sweet Janellen was trying to smooth over the awkward moment. “We thought we’d treat ourselves.”
“Well, it’s certainly good to see you both. I’ll go tell the butcher about those steaks and have them waiting for you at the checkout counter.” He poked the handle of the feather duster into his rear pants pocket, turned, rounded the end of the aisle, and bumped into a grocery cart pushed by another woman.
“Dr. Mallory!” he exclaimed.
“Hello, Mr. Hoskins. How are you today?”
“Uh, fine.” Lord have mercy, Ollie thought; Jody Tackett and Dr. Lara Mallory were on a collision course. He didn’t want his store to be the scene of any trouble. “Did you see those watermelons in the produce section, Dr. Mallory? They came in from South Texas early this morning.”
“A whole watermelon is wasted on one person, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll slice one and sell you a portion.”
“No, thanks. I’ll stick to cantaloupe.”
When she smiled, his heart sped up a little. Regardless of the reputation that stereotyped sailors, he’d never been a dedicated skirt chaser. But he’d have to be blind not to notice that Dr. Mallory was a real looker. Her face and figure turned heads. In Eden Pass her name was synonymous with temptress.
Frankly, he’d never seen that side of her. She was friendly but never flirtatious. Maybe he just wasn’t her type, although a natural flirt usually flirted with everybody of the opposite sex. Like Heather’s mother. Now that woman was a tart if he’d ever seen one. He hoped to goodness that Heather didn’t take after Darcy in that respect. Tanner was a good boy, but it wouldn’t take much encouragement from a pretty girl like Heather for him to do something he ought not.
“Let me know if there’s anything you need, Dr. Mallory.”
“Thanks, Mr. Hoskins. I will.”
Regrettably, he saw no way to avoid disaster. He moved aside and let her pass, thinking that maybe he should warn her that Jody Tackett was in the next aisle. He hoped the doctor didn’t need any coffee or tea. Fatalistically he watched as she wheeled her cart into aisle 4. He loitered at the end of it, pretending to rearrange packages of Oreos and Fig Newtons. He prayed that he wouldn’t be called upon to referee a cat fight.
The squeaky front wheel on Dr. Mallory’s cart rolled to a stop. For several moments there was silence, then he heard her say, “Good morning.”
Janellen replied in her shy little voice, “Good morning, Dr. Mallory.”
“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Mrs. Tackett.” Dr. Mallory gave Jody ample opportunity to respond. When she didn’t, the doctor added, “I’ve called your house several times, hoping to speak with you.”
“We have nothing to say to each other.” Only Jody Tackett could have put that much venom into a few simple words. “Let’s go, Janellen.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Tackett, but we have an awful lot to say to each other. I’d like very much to talk to you about Clark.”
“I’ll see you in hell first.”
“Mama!”
“Hush, Janellen! Come along.”
“Please, Mrs. Tackett. Mrs. Tackett? Mrs. Tackett!”
At first there was an underlying plea in the doctor’s voice. Then inquiry. Then alarm.
“Mama!”
Ollie Hoskins knocked over several packages of Nutter Butters in his haste to get to aisle 4 to see what had happened. He arrived in time to see Jody Tackett reel sideways against her cart. She extended her arms at her sides, palms down, as though trying to regain her balance. The cart rolled forward; she lost her support and fell against the shelves stacked with boxes of Lipton’s Tea. Several glass jars of instant decaf crashed to the floor, breaking on impact and spilling their fragrant powders. Jody fell backward against the shelf, then slid to the floor. She lay prone upon shattered jars and instant tea.
Janellen dropped to her knees. “Mama! Mama!” Lara Mallory didn’t waste a secon
d. She was beside Jody before Ollie could blink. “Call 911,” she shouted back at him. “We need an ambulance.”
He, in true military fashion, passed the command to one of his subordinates, a checker who happened to be restocking cigarettes in front of her register. She turned and ran toward the office phone. The aisle was now filling up with other shoppers who’d been alerted by Janellen’s frantic screams. Deserting their carts, they converged on aisle 4 from every corner of the supermarket. Ollie ordered them to stand back so the doctor would have room to see to Mrs. Tackett.
“I need something to cushion her head.”
Ollie whipped off his apron, wadded it up and handed it to Dr. Mallory, who placed it beneath Jody’s head. Cool as a cucumber, she said, “Ollie, help me turn her onto her side to keep her from choking.”
He didn’t think about it, he just did it, watching Dr. Mallory’s capable motions and imitating them, although he had to dodge Mrs. Tackett’s flailing arms.
“Janellen, does your mother have epilepsy?”
“No, Dr. Mallory. She’s never done this. What’s happening?”
“We’ll find out. Has an ambulance been called, Mr. Hoskins?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ollie briskly replied. He turned to the checker, who nodded her head to confirm. “Anything else I can do?”
“Find my brother,” Janellen said. “Get him here.”
Jody was drooling from the corners of her mouth. Her legs were still thrashing and her breathing sounded like a combine. Ollie didn’t have a soft spot for Jody Tackett, but he figured the lady deserved some privacy.
“All you people, clear this aisle.”
Of course no one moved. He shoved his way through the growing crowd and ran to his open, elevated office at the front of the store.
Knowing that Key Tackett was a pilot, Ollie called the country airstrip first. Key wasn’t there, but old Balky Willis gave him Key’s portable phone number. “He left here ’bout fifteen minutes ago. He had that hand-held gadget with him.”
Twenty seconds later, Key answered his portable phone with a cheerful, “Pimp-mobile.”
“Mr. Tackett?” Ollie said nervously. He’d never had a run-in with Key, but he’d heard about the unfortunates who had. Even his brothers-in-law, all of them wild as March hares and ready to draw blood at the drop of a hat, spoke Key Tackett’s name with reverence and respect. “This is Ollie Hoskins down at the Sak’n’Save and—”
“Hey, Ollie. I watched that Crimson-Black scrimmage the other night. Tanner’s going to give ’em hell this season.”
“Yes, sir, thanks. Mr. Tackett, your mother just collapsed here in—”
“Collapsed?”
“Yes, sir. Your sister and—”
“Is she all right?”
“No, sir. We’ve called for an ambulance.”
“I’m on my way.”
Ollie dropped the phone and rushed back to aisle 4. Clusters of shoppers blocked it at both ends. “Excuse me. Let me through.” It pleased him to discover that he’d regained his military bearing sufficiently that he could make people heed him. “Please, everybody, stand back,” he ordered with new-found confidence. He moved to stand directly behind Dr. Mallory.
“Is she having a stroke?” Janellen asked the doctor fearfully.
“Possibly a mild one. Tests will tell. Has she done this before?”
“No.”
Dr. Mallory leaned down nearer the fallen woman. “Mrs. Tackett, an ambulance is on the way. Don’t be frightened.”
Jody had ceased to struggle for breath. Her limbs had relaxed and now were limp. She rolled her eyes from side to side as though trying to orient herself. Dr. Mallory wiped saliva from Jody’s chin with a Kleenex from her own purse.
“You had a seizure, but it’s over.”
“Mama? Are you all right?” Janellen clasped her hand.
“She’ll be groggy for several minutes,” Dr. Mallory said. “That will pass.”
“Let me through. What are y’all gawking at? Don’t you have anything better to do? Get the hell away from here.”
Key plowed through the crowd of spectators. They parted for him. Ollie stepped forward. “You must have been close to have gotten here so fast.”
“Thanks for calling me, Ollie. Clear these people out, will you?”
“Yes, sir!” Ollie barely stopped himself from saluting. Key Tackett had that effect on people. “Okay, everybody. You heard Mr. Tackett. Clear this area.”
“Key! Thank heaven!” Janellen cried. “Mama had a seizure.”
“Jody?”
“Don’t le’ ’er touch me.”
He knelt beside his mother, but his piercing eyes were on the doctor. “What’s the matter with her?”
“Just as your sister said, she had a seizure. Serious and scary, but not fatal.”
Key bent over his mother. “They’ve called an ambulance for you, Jody,” he said in a low, reassuring voice. “It’ll be here soon. Hang in there.”
“Ge’ ’er away from me. Don’ want ’er to touch me.”
Her speech was slurred, but her message was clear.
“Dr. Mallory saved your life, Mama,” Janellen said gently.
Jody tried to sit up but couldn’t. She fixed a murderous stare on Dr. Mallory. Although she couldn’t articulate her animosity, it was effectively conveyed.
Key made a swift motion with his head. “Take off, Doc. She doesn’t want you near her. You’re only making matters worse.”
Janellen said, “Key, if she hadn’t known what to do.”
“But—” the doctor interrupted.
“You heard me,” he barked. “Get out of her sight.”
They glared at each other for what seemed to Ollie a long time, as if there was a lot more there than the eye could see. Eventually Dr. Mallory came to her feet. She was visibly shaken and her voice was unsteady. “Your mother is gravely ill and needs immediate medical attention.”
“Not from you.”
Even though the words weren’t directed at him, Ollie quailed at Tackett’s fierce expression and bone-chilling tone.
“Thank you, Dr. Mallory,” Janellen said quietly. “We’ll see that Mama gets the medical care she needs.”
Her services having been flatly rejected, she turned her back on the Tacketts and moved down the aisle toward the onlookers. They parted for her as they had for Key. She didn’t return to her cart of groceries but headed straight for the exit.
Ollie watched her leave, his respect for her increasing. She had a lot of class. She hadn’t slunk past the bystanders but had walked tall and proud. Neither the Tacketts nor the gawkers had daunted her. He resolved to personally deliver her groceries to her once this crisis was over.
The wail of a siren was heard outside and moments later paramedics rushed into the store. Mrs. Tackett was transported by gurney to the waiting ambulance, which sped away. Key and Janellen roared after it in his yellow Lincoln.
Long after all the instant tea in aisle 4 had been swept up and the shelves straightened, store customers lingered to discuss what they’d seen and heard, and the drama was recreated for new arrivals who had missed it. The seriousness of Jody Tackett’s condition was speculated upon. Some said she was too mean to die and would live to be one hundred. Others surmised that she was only a breath away from death. Some wondered out loud about the future of Tackett Oil. Would Jody’s death, whenever it occurred, also mean the end of the oil company, or would Key stop his globe-hopping and stay in Eden Pass to manage it, or was Miss Janellen strong and savvy enough to seize control? Opinions varied widely.
However, the juiciest gossip that day centered around Dr. Lara Mallory and how, even as she faced death, Jody Tackett had refused her assistance. The doctor’s notorious affair with Senator Tackett was rehashed for those whose memories had faded.
Ollie was resentful of the clacking tongues. Not that his opinion mattered, but he didn’t think Dr. Mallory was getting a fair shake. Hadn’t she saved stingy, nasty Jody Tacke
tt’s miserable hide, when she’d probably just as soon have watched the old woman die?
She was almost tearfully grateful when he delivered her groceries that afternoon. She thanked him profusely and offered him a cold drink for his effort. She might have been a fallen woman once, but a nicer lady you’d never find, was his way of thinking.
“Can you believe it? Old Jody was lying there on the floor of the Sak’n’Save, foaming at the mouth, they said, jerking and twitching something awful. But the old girl had enough fight left in her to refuse medical attention from Lara Mallory.”
The Winstons’ housekeeper had prepared a cheesy chicken casserole for dinner. Darcy was doing more talking than eating. Fergus was transferring food from his plate to his mouth with single-minded purpose. To Heather, the casserole looked like something that had already been regurgitated. She pushed the chunks of food around her plate, pretending to eat. Now that she was taking birth control pills, she counted every calorie and wasn’t about to waste several hundred on this junk.
Besides, her mother’s enjoyment of the gossip that had circulated through town about Mrs. Tackett’s seizure had ruined Heather’s appetite. Darcy had learned all the gory details at the beauty shop and recounted them with disgusting enthusiasm.
“She peed her pants. Jody Tackett peed her pants. Can you believe it?” Darcy chortled. “Incontinental, they call it.”
“It’s ‘incontinent,’ Darcy,” Fergus corrected. “And it’s hardly something I want to talk about over supper.”
Heather reached for her glass of iced tea. “Tanner’s daddy said Dr. Mallory saved Mrs. Tackett’s life. If I were her, I’d’ve let the old fart die.”
Darcy’s fork clattered to her plate. “That’s fine language for a proper young lady! And this juvenile crush you have on Lara Mallory has become annoying, Heather.”
“I don’t have a ‘crush’ on her. I just think it was stupid of Mrs. Tackett not to let the doctor help her. I mean, if you’re dying, isn’t any doctor, even one you personally dislike, better than none at all?”
“Not if you’re Jody Tackett,” Fergus remarked as he paused to blot his mouth. “That woman’s heart is the hardest substance on earth. I agree with you, Heather. I’d have let her choke.”