Mourning Dove

by Donna Simmons

  The pregnant nurse looked at Sara as if she was quite insane. “Do you really want to go in there without a whip and chair?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m his wife. I might be able to get him to behave for just a little while. Then again, I just might make it worse.”

  “Lady, you can’t possibly make it worse. Be my guest.” she waved her hand in the general direction of the lion’s den.

  “I said GET OUT!” he shouted when Sara opened the door.

  “I heard you. The entire floor heard you. I dare say they can use your booming voice if the foghorn ever goes out in Portsmouth Harbor. Now, SHUT UP! And act your age, damn it.”

  “Who the hell told you I was here?”

  “Who do you think? I was embarrassed to admit I was your wife just now. How dare you bully that poor pregnant girl? She was just trying to do her job and look at this mess. I should make you sleep in it. My goodness, you’re covered in green jello and chocolate milk. If you were my child I’d turn you over my knee and beat some manners into you.”

  “Well I’m not, and I won’t be your husband much longer based on the way that man was fondling you Thursday night, so there’s the door.”

  Leaning close to his face, she whispered, “One more word and I will give the order to have you stay in this ooze until morning. You’ve probably alienated the entire nursing staff with your tantrum and I’m sure they would be happy to leave you to your own devices. Now tell me what happened and what the doctor said. Then I’ll help you get more comfortable.”

  The steam left him, just like that. “Who was that guy with you?”

  “That is not the topic I wish to discuss, Ron. How did you break your ankle?”

  He watched her for several minutes. Silence was good. Then he shrugged his shoulders.

  “Margaret called out yesterday and asked us to make the deposit for her. She had eaten something bad at the exhibit, she says. She was apparently up all night with food poisoning. I know Allen ate everything offered; he’s not sick.”

  “Allen has an iron stomach; you know that.”

  “Any way, she asked me to make the deposit on Friday. This morning, when Allen and I were about to drive to Hampton to meet with a new client, Allen found the deposit bag still on Margaret’s chair. I’d prepared it but must have gotten sidetracked. So I thought we could put it in the night deposit box at the bank on the way out.”

  “Why didn’t you drive up and put it in?”

  “I thought of pulling in and out of traffic and figured it would be easier to just park in the break down lane and jog across to the bank. On the way back, a car came out of nowhere. I jumped out of the way, tripped over the curb, and went down.”

  “And, what does the doctor say?”

  “Ah, they’re all a bunch of quacks, what do they know?”

  “I hope my wife doesn’t find that out. She thinks I learned something beyond duck races in med school,” a strong male voice announced the doctor’s presence. “I understand you’ve been terrorizing the hospital staff, Mr. Stafford. That’s got to stop.” He hesitated when he got a good look at the coagulating green slime decorating his patient. A grin spread across his face.

  “Ignore his present condition, doctor. I threatened not to clean it up until he promises to behave himself. I’m his wife, Sara. Ron was just about to tell me the status of his injury when you walked in.”

  The doctor, an older man with short graying hair, came forward and shook her hand.

  “I’m Dr. Johnson, your husband’s orthopedist. He has a double fracture in his right ankle. In order to correct the situation, we’ll put in a couple of screws and a rod. We can’t do that until Monday at the earliest. By then the swelling should be down a bit. I expect it to heal completely in time.”

  “How long will he be in the hospital?”

  “Probably through Monday; as soon as we have a cast on it we’ll discharge him. He won’t be able to put any weight on it for two weeks, another four in a walking cast. With physical therapy, he should be back to normal within six months.”

  “Six months!” Ron shouted. “I can’t be away from work for six months.”

  “Ron, quiet,” she ordered. “I understand Dr. Johnson to mean six months for complete healing if you behave and do as the doctor tells you.”

  “If you were living alone, Mr. Stafford, you could be spending the first two weeks in a rehab facility. We want your ankle to heal correctly; if you try walking on it too soon you could end up with a permanent limp. I suggest you use some sick time and focus on getting well. I also want you to promise me you won’t harass the staff any more.”

  Ron nodded begrudgingly. Sara knew it was only temporary.

  “Mrs. Stafford, you have my complete sympathies.” With that last statement the doctor walked out the door.

  “What the hell did he mean by that?” Ron asked her.

  “He was referring to your orneriness. If you don’t behave, I’ll tell them I don’t live with you any more. They will, of course, completely understand; and you will end up in a rehab hospital for two weeks.”

  “Sara, don’t you dare leave me now.”

  “Weren’t you the one that just ten minutes ago told me to get out?”

  “Ah come on, Sara.”

  “Asking for my help, Ron?”

  “The company won’t run without me. Please.”

  “You sure know how to complicate my life,” she paced the room running her hands through her hair. “Okay, but you stow the temper tantrums. You make a lousy patient. Just accept the situation and the help. I’ll pick up some of your personal things and be back in an hour. After I drop them off I won’t be back ‘til Monday. When they release you, I’ll take you home and arrange for support at the house. Do you have your cell phone?”

  “It was on my belt. I think the nurses have my things.”

  “I’ll check before I leave. Anything specific you want from home?”

  “Something to sleep in that has a back to it, my razor, toothbrush, comb.”

  “Do you have your keys? I don’t have a copy any more.”

  “They should be with my things, ask the nurses.”

  “You owe me big time for this. After the next two weeks you’re on your own. I have a business trip to Chicago the last week of the month. By that time you should be in a walking cast. Maybe Allen can bring you back and forth to work. Before then, he can send messages by phone and email. And Ron?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  Silence again. “Are you committed to this guy then? Do you want out?”

  “I’m committed to a new life. At this time, it doesn’t include attachment to another man. He was being a gentleman.”

  “You were half naked.”

  “I remember you liked that dress.”

  “I remember how easy it was to get you out of it.”

  “I went home alone, Ron. Do you want my help cleaning up this mess, or not?”

  He lifted the edge of the soggy sheet and they folded the mess into a pile. Within minutes most of the debris was out of the room.

  “Ron, are you in pain? Do you want me to ask them for anything?”

  “Would they care?”

  “I’ll check.”

  She was almost to the door with the pile in her arms when she asked, “You want me to pick up a bacon double cheeseburger?”

  “And onion rings?”

  ***

  “Carl, help me.”

  Mom, wake up. You’re having another nightmare

  “I’m awake.” Sara checked the time. It was just past midnight.

  Good, now think it.

  Sorry, what’s wrong?

  I’m concerned about Dad. Why is he in the hospital?

  He tripped over a curb and broke his ankle.

  He wasn’t pushed?

  No, he tripped.

  Was anyone else there to see it?

  Allen was there. He said a car almost hit him and he backed into the
curb and tripped.

  What kind of car?

  I don’t remember; does it matter?

  It matters. Did the driver stop?

  No, he didn’t.

  Did Allen get a good look at the driver?

  He said the car had tinted windows. It’s only a broken ankle; Allen says the car didn’t hit him.

  I don’t like it. Be careful.

  Carl, why didn’t you know your dad was down?

  I knew he was down, but not why. I was watching you enjoy your morning when I got yanked to him in the ER. Then, I bounced back to you.

  I’m all right, son.

  Be careful, Mom. I love you.

  CHAPTER 18

  One hundred-fifty-two new e-mail messages! It was going to be a long Monday morning.

  “Hi boss, can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Steve stood in Sara’s office doorway with two mugs in his hand.

  “What’s up, Steve?”

  “I might ask you the same thing. My computer’s blacked out, so is Louise’s.”

  “Call IT.” She continued to scan the contents of the first email; then hit the delete key.

  “I did, they said they’re working on it. I thought I’d check yours.”

  He walked in and set a steaming cup on her desk. She looked up. “Hazelnut? What’s the occasion?”

  “The rumor this morning is that Ross is dead. I thought I would try bribery to get confirmation.”

  “This time the grapevine is correct. It appears Ross’s brakes failed on a winding coastal road. He went over the edge and the car ignited on impact. I have another one-hundred-forty-eight messages to scan. There may be further updates.”

  “I’ll get out of your hair then. Can I do anything for you while I’m waiting for the computers to come up?”

  “Organize a meeting in the conference room for eleven o’clock, all accounting staff. We’ll get a link to include Jonathon in California.”

  “What’s the topic?”

  “Temporary changes in financial coverage and reporting, security leaks, PR damage control, and the office rumor mill.”

  ***

  “Take one step at a time, Ron. If you fall, I can’t pick you up.” She stood behind her husband’s wobbly length at the foot of his front steps. He was juggling two crutches and his keys, his cast-covered right foot and lower leg bent behind him.

  “I want to get into the house,” he demanded. “Mrs. Murphy is watching out her front door. There’s no way I’m providing the old busybody with more entertainment than necessary.”

  Sara turned and saw a shadow pull back from a white lace curtain. Allen pulled up behind Sara’s car and she thanked God for little blessings.

  “Need some help there, old man?”

  “Allen, go through the garage and get this door open.”

  “You could say please, Ron.”

  “Stuff it, Sara. Just get me in the house.”

  “Does Allen have keys to the kitchen door?”

  “He knows where I keep the spare.”

  And I don’t, that’s interesting. A few minutes later they stood in the middle of the front room surrounded by sound equipment boxes, painter tarps and Ron’s black leather recliner. “Ron, do you want to maneuver the stairs now or later?”

  “I just want to sit.” And, he did, plopping down on the recliner, creating a plume of dust.

  “When is the last time you cleaned in here?” Sara coughed from a cloud of white and waved her hands to clear the air in front of her.

  “That’s just sheetrock dust,” Ron said. The walls are ready to paint, if you’ll notice.”

  She spun around glancing at the gobs of spackling stuck to the floor and the white smooth surface covering seams and nail marks. “Well, I guess you’ve been busy, but we’re going to have to get the dust up first. And, no I am not doing it; you can hire it out. The next decision you have to make is where you’re going to convalesce, upstairs or down? I would suggest the second floor since it has a bathroom and a bed.”

  Allen started lugging in the mail and Ron’s things from the hospital when Ron asked, “How am I going to cook?”

  “You’re not. Your friends are delivering food.”

  “I’m going to need a place to work; I don’t want people coming through the house.”

  “Stop whining, Ron. The simple truth is you’re off your feet for the next two weeks. You can work from your bed for the duration. Let people with two working feet maneuver the stairs. You barely managed the three steps into the house. Get practical here.”

  “How am I going to get up those steps, now?”

  “Allen will help you out of the chair, when you get to the bottom of the steps, turn around and ease yourself down to sit. Then, scoot yourself up the stairs, one at a time. When you get to the top, we’ll help you stand and you can hobble off to bed. Allen can bring your laptop and cell phone up.”

  “I get lousy reception here. I’ll have to use the landline. Do you have the pain pills the doc prescribed?”

  “When we get you up the stairs, I’ll give them to you. I don’t want you getting woozy on the steps.”

  “You just like to see me in pain.”

  “Stop being cranky and ease to the front of the chair so we can lift you.”

  “Ron, you should get a bathroom installed on the first floor. Then you wouldn’t have to scoot up the stairs on your ass,” Allen laughed as they followed behind the invalid and his backward crab-walk up the stairs.

  “I have plans for one; just haven’t gotten to it, yet. For now I guess I’ll just stay upstairs. Sara will be here.”

  “Sara will only be here today,” she reminded him. “Then you will see me first thing in the morning and late in the evening when I get back from work.”

  “I thought you were staying two weeks?”

  “I am, but I have to work. I rarely get home before seven, usually much later than that. Allen will be here at lunch. You told me your friends have set up a schedule to bring over dinner. So you have coverage there. I’ll be here in the evening to make sure everything is set for the night.”

  “You could work in the den. It’s in better repair than the front room,” Ron said.

  “Trust me I plan to. But, I still have to go into the office. I don’t have a choice.”

  ***

  Sara put away two casseroles and covered a chocolate cake. As usual, she ended up vacuuming up the dust. With two cups of tea in hand, she climbed the stairs for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

  “Sara!”

  She walked into his room. “I’m changing my name. You wore it out today. And, I can tell you the nurses on the orthopedic floor are celebrating that you’ve finally gone home! Here’s your tea.”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden on you. I hate being incapacitated.”

  “I know. How’s the pain?”

  “The throbbing stopped. Have you settled in downstairs?”

  “I’ve taken over your den for the duration.”

  “You could still sleep here with me. There’s plenty of room; it’s more comfortable than the couch in the den.”

  Sara ignored his offer. “Were you able to get any work done on your laptop?”

  “Some. I had a lot of distractions with the comings and goings around here.”

  “Well, you have a fridge full of casseroles, half an apple pie left, and a chocolate cake.”

  “Where did the chocolate cake come from?”

  “Mrs. Murphy brought it over. She made it for you as soon as she saw you hobbling up the walk.” And, she thinks we’re getting back together. But, you don’t need to know that.

  “Come and sit, talk to me.” He patted the side of the bed.

  “Just for a minute.” Sara eased down into the opposite corner at the foot of the bed and leaned back against the mahogany post. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “What’s your job like? Are you happy there?”

  “It’s busy and dynamic. Hasn’t had a
n ounce of routine since I started. Everything is urgent, everything is challenging.” She looked up. “I almost never have nightmares any more.”

  “That’s a good thing. Making new friends?”

  “Meaning?”

  “No inference intended, just asking.”

  “Most are easy to work with. One of the staff accountants has become a friend. We swim during lunch break. The company has a fitness club with a large pool on the ninth floor.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Her name is Louise.”

  “You always liked swimming. It’s probably helping eliminate the nightmares. You’re working on this art foundation, too?”

  “It’s just getting started. You met Elaina Starr at the exhibit; it’s her baby. Her effervescence makes me smile. She has a very southern way of getting what she wants.”

  “What about your boss?”

  “Jonathon is a piece of work, a Texas cowboy. He’s in California at the moment, putting out fires. I’ve been covering for him. That’s why I can’t take the time off.”

  “I haven’t met him. I was talking about the guy at the exhibit.” He took a sip of his hot tea and ran a finger over the rim of the cup.

  “Robert Starr is my boss above Jonathon and the owner of the company. He reminds me of an elder statesman. He can charm the spots off a leopard and dispatch it the next moment with a single shot. I wouldn’t ever want to cross him. Then again, I have no reason to. He’s cordial, serious about business, and oozes southern charm.”

  “And, the other one?”

  “I knew you’d get around to him. His name is Matthew Farrell. He’s a government liaison to the company. He’s also something of an art connoisseur. We’ve both been asked to work on the foundation in different capacities.”

  “Do you work close to him?”

  “He’s temporarily in the next office.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.”

  Matthew would have said, ‘Bloody hell, don’t be obtuse, Sara, you know what I’m asking.’ She looked up from her tea and watched the serious concern in Ron’s eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Is there more to your relationship with this man than work?”