by Gina Ardito
I have no idea how long I sat before one of the nurses, a young fresh-faced woman with soulful brown eyes and bright red hair, touched my shoulder. “Doctor? You need to go home.”
I shook my head. “I’ll stay just a little while longer.”
Her voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s not a request. Dr. Humphrey has ordered you gone.”
That comment jolted me. “He did?”
She nodded. “Dr. Humphrey is kinda territorial about his patients. It’s nothing personal.”
No. I supposed it wasn’t. The presence of loved ones could often help a patient rally, but at our last meeting, Michael and I had exchanged some harsh words. So he probably wouldn’t fight the good fight on my behalf—except, maybe, to spit in my face.
Slowly, I got to my feet. Invisible pins and needles pricked my limbs as circulation struggled to return to my bloodstream. I must have looked as stiff as I felt because the nurse wrapped an arm around my waist and walked with me to the automatic doors. “You’ll call me if there’s any change in his condition?” I asked her.
“Absolutely. I’ll leave a note at the nurses’ station that you’re to be notified.”
“Thanks.” I limped out to the parking lot and headed for home.
By the time I stepped into my house a half hour later, my eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, and every muscle ached. All I wanted was a hot bath and bed. So, of course, before I even closed the front door, my phone rang. I chose to ignore the noise and dragged my sorry butt upstairs. I reached the bedroom just as the answering machine clicked on.
“Hi, Dr. Florentino?” An unfamiliar feminine voice blared from the speaker. “This is Liz. Liz Harvey? Umm...this is kind of awkward, but I was wondering if you know where Michael is. He was supposed to call me after our date last night and then meet me for breakfast this morning. He never called, never showed up. I’ve been calling his cell, but it goes straight to voicemail. And his car’s not at the condo he rented. If you’ve seen him or if he’s with you, could you...” She paused and when she spoke again, her tone was softer, tinged with hurt. “...tell him to call me? Please? Thanks.”
I stood, frozen. Liz Harvey? And Michael? I remember how she’d stared at me when I’d had that row with Michael at Mama’s Hen House two weeks ago. Was that why he hadn’t returned to Portland yet? Because of Liz? It had to be.
So, Michael had started dating Liz Harvey. Well, good for him. Good for both of them. Liz taught kindergarten at an elementary school in another district. She was pretty, even-tempered, and had a quirky sense of humor that would offset Michael’s tendency to take life too seriously. If nurse Ana Desiderato heard about the pairing, she’d say they looked good on paper. With time, they could probably replace Josh and me as the new Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. Regardless of their scorecard, though, I now held the unenviable position of calling Liz to tell her what had happened to Michael.
Poor Liz. She already feared something was wrong; I was about to confirm that fear. I had to call her, and I would. As soon as I figured out how to tell her the news. I’d delivered bad tidings to loved ones more times than I cared to think about. It never got easy. This time, though, I dreaded the conversation.
I’d love a cup of tea before I made the call. Maybe a cookie. But I wouldn’t make the woman wait any longer. After several deep cleansing breaths, I picked up the phone receiver, found her number in my call log, and hit dial.
I barely heard the ring before she picked up. “Hello?”
“Hi, Liz.” Only years of experience kept my tone moderated, my words even and calm. “It’s Francesca Florentino.”
“Doctor Florentino? You’ve heard from Michael then?”
“He’s in Morrison General,” I blurted. Best to get straight to the facts, rather than dance around them. “His car was hit by a drunk driver early this morning.”
“Oh, my God, I knew it,” she wailed. “I knew something was wrong. Is he okay?
“He was brought in with a head injury and a broken leg. Doctors operated on him, and he’s in the critical care unit. They’re keeping him sedated to give his body time to heal.”
“Can I go see him?”
No. Liz wasn’t related to Michael, so as long as he remained in critical care, she wouldn’t be allowed in the unit. Besides, they’d been dating for what...a week? For all I knew, he wouldn’t want her there. Right now, I couldn’t speak for him, but I could spout the hospital’s legal stance. “Until he’s in stable condition and moved into a standard room, there’s really nothing you can do for him. He’s in the very best hands, I promise you. The nursing staff there is top-notch, and Dr. Humphrey is an outstanding trauma surgeon.”
“But, I want to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay.”
“Give him today to rest and heal. I’ve already asked the staff to contact me when his condition changes. I’ll be happy to keep you up to date.” And be sure Michael really wanted her to visit before I gave her the okay to show up in his hospital room. For all I knew, this quickie romance was a fantasy she created after she saw me leave the restaurant that day. I chewed my lip. I didn’t believe that, but one thing I’d learned: people weren’t always what they seemed. Look at Desi Candolero. And Josh Candolero, for that matter.
“You’re sure he’s okay, though?” Liz’s question snapped me back before I traipsed too far down that particular path.
“He will be,” I replied. “In a day or two.”
“Okay.” Her sigh hissed through my earpiece. “It’s my fault Michael got hurt, you know. I wished it on him.”
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t have heard her correctly. “What?”
“We started talking that day after you left him in Mama’s Hen House. I joined him for breakfast, which turned into lunch, and a dinner date the next night. We’ve been seeing each other ever since. I like him a lot. We have so much in common, and he’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met. But he was getting ready to go back to Portland. He said there was nothing left for him here. I started wishing we had more time. That s-something would make him s-stay.” Her words cracked with sobs. “I just wanted him to stick around so we could really get to know each other. He almost died, and it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, Liz.” Anger rose inside me when I thought about the true villain in this tragedy. Garrett D’Amico, arrogant jerk. “You didn’t get drunk and get behind the wheel of a car.”
“No, of course not.”
“So, then it’s not your fault, and I won’t allow you to think that way. Wishing doesn’t make things happen.”
If it did...well, that was a topic best left unexplored.
****
Emily
Roy and I faced the first challenge to our newfound happiness when we left our bedroom an hour or so later. Because both my boss and his girlfriend had a healthy dose of class and inordinate discretion, they’d made a hasty exit while Roy and I were...how had Paige phrased it? Oh, right. Becoming reacquainted. Around two o’clock, knowing our kids would be home from school momentarily, we returned to the living room.
Roy raced ahead of me and fluffed the throw pillows on the sofa. “You sit right here,” he said with a huge grin. “I want you to be the first person the kids see when they walk in the front door. They’re going to be so thrilled you’re home.”
Once I took my appointed seat, he tucked me in with my grandmother’s hand-crocheted afghan. The house’s temperature didn’t warrant the extra coziness, but I had no intention of spoiling the moment. If my husband insisted on pampering me, I’d shut my mouth and suffer through every delectable second. I was touched. Amazing how a quick romp in the sack brought my hero back to me. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so happy, so...loved.
Until my mother-in-law appeared in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and her perpetual disapproving frown etched in place, to suck all the joy out of the house. “Is it wise, Roy, to let the kids think Emily’s home for good? I mean, she could change her mind again and l
eave you all tomorrow.”
The verbal slap stung, but Roy just laughed. “She can try, but I won’t let her go. I think she finally realizes we’re both in this marriage for the long haul.”
“Oh? What do you plan to do next time she wants to leave? Tie her up in the basement?”
“Nah. My girl’s too tenacious. She’d chew through the restraints.” He sighed dramatically. “I’ll just have to keep her happy with me somehow.” Bending, he kissed my forehead.
“You’re off to an excellent start so far.” Warmth infused me, and I smiled up at him, my mind straddling our past, present, and promising future. “The best thing that ever happened to me was when some snooty cheerleader told me about the atrium in the high school.”
“There is no atrium in the high school.” My mother-in-law sniffed.
“Sure, there is,” Roy replied, his adoring gaze still fixed on me. “You just have to know where to look.”
We both burst into giggles, and his mother harrumphed. “Honestly. You two are acting like children. I can’t imagine what you find humorous.”
“Life, Mom.” He laced his fingers with mine. “Life, love, and the fact that we’re going to find our way back from a rocky precipice. Together.”
The way he said it, with so much confidence, had me believing him. Outside, brakes squealed—the school bus for my older two kids had arrived.
Roy leaped to the bow window and peered out. “Here they come.” His excitement vibrated in the room and snared me, jolting me with nervous energy. “This is gonna be great.”
I sat up higher, my body thrumming with anticipation.
“Ssh, ssh,” Roy hissed. “Don’t say anything. Stay still. Let’s see how long it takes them to notice you there.” He practically bounced on his toes.
Okay, when did aliens kidnap my dour, serious husband and replace him with this goofball? And was it too late to contact the aliens to thank them?
My mother-in-law harrumphed again. “You’re being ridiculous.”
From outside, raised voices increased in volume. “Shut up, Corey. You don’t know squat.” Mellie, as usual, overpowered her brother’s argument through strident insults. Her angry face appeared in the storm door window with Corey’s shadow behind her. Pulling open the door, she stepped inside, too involved in her debate with her brother to notice me.
Corey, entering on her heels, spotted me first. “Mom?” His face broke into a sunny grin. “Hey. Welcome home.”
I quirked a brow. “That’s it?” I spread my arms wide. “How about a hug, guys?”
Corey dropped his backpack with a thud and stepped awkwardly into my embrace. He’d grown thicker while I was gone. Or maybe I hadn’t noticed when I saw him on a daily basis that he’d packed on a lot of muscle tone. And was that peach fuzz on his upper lip? I hid an indulgent smile until he stepped away and turned his back to me. Then I rubbed my index finger above my upper lip and jerked my head in his direction, my forehead puckered in question. Roy nodded, and I sighed. Delight mingled with nostalgia. My oldest boy was quickly becoming a man.
Melissa, meanwhile, kept her distance, and I reopened my arms. “Mellie?”
Hanging back, she studied me with an icy expression. “Grandma said you weren’t coming home. That you planned to ditch us.”
I couldn’t stifle my gasp of surprise fast enough. I shot a furious glare at my mother-in-law, who had the nerve to wear cool nonchalance the way a debutante might show off a new string of pearls.
“Apparently, Grandma got her facts wrong,” Roy said in measured tones. “Now give your mother a hug, and then both of you get started on your homework. As soon as Gabriella comes home, I’ll pick up Luke from daycare, and then we’re going to celebrate Mom’s discharge from the hospital with a special dinner. You both know how useless I am in the kitchen, so I’m gonna need your help with that. In the meantime, though, tackle your homework.”
Melissa, her frown still fixed in place, wrapped her arms loosely around me, muttered, “Welcome home, Mom,” then dashed away.
Roy didn’t speak again until the kids’ footfalls thundered overhead. Eyes blazing, he turned to his mother. “You told our daughter my wife planned to leave us?”
She shrugged, appearing not in the least affected by his indignation. “Melissa kept asking when her mother would be home. Did you expect me to lie to the child?”
“I expected you to use your common sense,” he retorted. “You should have told her to talk to me.”
“Well, I’m sorry. She put me on the spot, and I didn’t think.”
“I don’t believe that.” The venom in his tone stunned me. “You were being vindictive and trying to alienate Melissa from her mother.”
“Roy,” I said softly and reached out a hand. “Don’t. Please. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay.” He stalked closer and jabbed an index finger at me. “Emily is my wife and has been for almost twenty years. If that isn’t reason enough for you to care about her, she’s also the mother of your grandkids. And if you want to continue to be a part of their lives, you’ll start treating her with kindness and respect.”
“She was going to leave you,” she reminded him, her tone sharp and her stance unapologetic. “I didn’t lie about that.”
“Did it ever occur to you she had a damn good reason for wanting to leave me?”
Huh? Had I heard him correctly? I couldn’t have. I studied his intense expression, the way his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.
My mother-in-law clucked her tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Roy,” I interjected once more. “Stop, please.”
He knelt at my side and squeezed my thighs. “You tried to tell me,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry.” Rising, he faced his mother again. “She works damn hard to keep our family afloat—just as hard as I do. And lately, I’ve forgotten that.” He shook his head. “Personally, I don’t know how she’s managed to still love me all these years.”
Her lips twisted, and she waved a dismissive hand. “Please. It’s no secret your father and I are financially more secure than—”
Roy’s bitter laughter cut her off in mid-statement. “You think any woman in her right mind would put up with my moods and your animosity for twenty years in the hope of someday hitting that extra-special Handler lottery? I hate to break it to you, Mom, but there isn’t enough money in Fort Knox to pay someone to spend two decades with both of us.”
I’d never seen my husband so honest, so reckless, so...passionate. Too bad I couldn’t allow him to continue alienating his mother. Because I admit, I found this forceful hero routine super-attractive. “Roy,” I tried one last time. “Please stop. Don’t say any more. I’ll talk to Mellie. She’s angry and confused right now. Let’s not say things we can’t take back.”
He bounced his hand at me, but his gaze remained fixed on his mother. “I’m almost done, sweetheart. Give me one more minute. Mom, you have a choice to make. Right now. You can either apologize to my wife.” He folded his arms over his chest, becoming a human wall of righteous anger. “Or you can leave our house. What’s it going to be?”
I winced. I already knew what was coming, but couldn’t stop the coming explosion.
As expected, Mount Sylvia erupted. “Your house? May I remind you, son, that this is my house? That your father and I sold it to you and your wife below market value so that you would have a place to raise your family? A family that I warned you would drag you down financially.”
“Sylvia.”
I looked up as my father-in-law’s disapproving tone entered the conversation. I had assumed he’d be hanging out with his cronies at the golf course. It never occurred to me that he might actually be lurking in the house. But there he stood, in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, anger radiating off him in waves.
“You’ve said enough,” he told his wife.
My mother-in-law clamped her jaw so tight, the strain showed in her cheeks.
; Turning to his father, Roy growled, “Take her back to Florida, Dad. Thanks for coming, but you should probably leave now.”
As he strode from the room, I called after him, “Roy? Where are you going?”
“To talk to Melissa. Maybe I can undo the damage my mother wrought.” He disappeared up the stairs, leaving me in the iciest area of the house.
From opposite corners, my in-laws held a staring contest—with me as their sole focus. After years of working as a 911 operator, I’d learned to stay strong and steady under pressure, but in this case, I folded faster than a cardboard box in the middle of a cyclone. My gaze whipped around the room, landing nowhere and everywhere. No one spoke. Time didn’t move. The three of us remained suspended, silent, accusers and accused facing off without a two-way mirror to provide a safe barrier.
To my shame, I broke first. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, eyes downcast, staring at my clasped hands in my lap. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
No one replied, and I squirmed. How was it possible that even after all these years, my in-laws could make me feel lower than worm sludge—and just as useful? On the heels of that thought, though, a stronger realization struck me. For the first time since he’d told them that I was pregnant and he planned to marry me, my husband had stood up for me against his parents. An explosion of fireworks burst inside me. I now had no doubt. He might not say it often, he might never say it again, but Roy loved me.
I never cared what my mother said about you. In my eyes, you were always perfect.
Nothing my mother-in-law said against me would ever change how he felt.
In the Handler household, the air didn’t stir. No general barked a command to a foot soldier. Yet, the power had shifted. I sat up tall and straight, my gaze level with hers. I said nothing. All too soon, my scrutiny wore her down. The dragon lady lost her fire and shrank before my eyes. I had to sit on my hands to keep myself from fist-pumping.