Believe It or Not

by Tawna Fenske

  Drew reached over and caught it with one hand, setting it upright without a word. Violet retreated to the kitchen and stuck her head in the refrigerator, determined not to meet Drew’s eyes.

  ***

  An hour later, Drew looked down at the growing pile of sawdust at his feet and tried hard not to feel depressed.

  Once Dr. Abbott had realized the other two males would be wielding power tools in Violet’s presence, he couldn’t resist the urge to demonstrate the size of his testicles by donning a tool belt.

  Backward, as it turned out.

  That was pretty much how the whole operation was unfolding. Building anything with Chris and the guy Violet quietly called Dreadlock Dude was like trying to pound nails with a meatball.

  Actually, that might have been more effective. After Chris kept missing the nails with the hammer, Drew had casually offered to take over that task while Chris wielded the saw. But after about five minutes of that, Drew found himself hoping like hell that Chris demonstrated considerably more precision in the operating room.

  “How’s this, Drew?” Chris called as he deposited a couple of chewed up pieces of lumber at Drew’s feet.

  “Looking great,” Drew said. “Nice work.”

  Jesus, they looked like he’d gnawed them apart with his incisors, but Drew wasn’t about to say so. Guys staked a whole lot of ego on their ability to use power tools. Even guys like Chris and Dreadlock Dude were no exception, and Drew figured it wasn’t his place to suggest they might be better off moving furniture than out here trying to impress Violet using their prowess with a cordless drill.

  But it was a damn good thing he’d brought extra lumber. At the rate these guys were going, they’d be building this ramp with popsicle sticks before the night was through.

  “Dude, is this, like, sanded enough?” Dreadlock Dude called to Drew as he held up a piece of wood.

  Drew grimaced. “Maybe try using the scratchy side of the sandpaper.”

  “Good idea. Hey, you’re sure this wood is rescued?”

  “Yup. I got it from the foreman at a construction site just down the street from me. It’s all their scrap wood.”

  “I don’t know,” Dreadlock Dude said as he frowned down at the wood. “I think Moonbeam would rather have that stuff made from recycled plastic.”

  “I’m sure she would, but this was free, and it was going to end up in the landfill anyway,” Drew pointed out. “Besides, this ramp is temporary, right?”

  “Right,” Chris said as he set down another piece of mangled wood in the pile beside Drew. “Moonbeam should only need the wheelchair for a couple months. Then she’ll be back on her feet.”

  And Violet will be back in Maine, Drew thought, and tried not to feel glum. Really, he’d only known her for a short time. As soon as she left, his life could go back to the way it was.

  That was a good thing, right?

  “Here you go, Drew,” Violet said as she stepped out onto the porch. “I found those extra nails you wanted.”

  “Thanks. Can you toss them in the box right over there?”

  She leaned down, and Drew looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of black lace down the front of her shirt. He looked away quickly, feeling like a jerk. Then he saw the other two men staring openmouthed at the black lace.

  He didn’t feel like such a jerk anymore.

  Violet straightened up, taking her black lace with her. “Want me to keep sanding, or can I help you get those rails erected?” she asked him.

  Drew’s thoughts veered dangerously close to middle school humor at the word erected, but he cleared his throat and shook his head.

  “I think we’ve got it covered here,” he said. “Actually, we should probably wrap it up for tonight. I’m not sure the neighbors will appreciate it if we’re running power tools past their bedtime.”

  “Good point. In that case, could I borrow you for a few minutes?”

  “Borrow me?”

  “Inside. There are still a couple more pieces of furniture to move, and I could use a quick hand if you don’t mind taking a break from this.”

  Drew looked up at her again, his eyes catching on the black lace for a few moments before they found their way up to her face. She raised an eyebrow and leaned closer.

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you alone for a second,” she whispered in his ear, making Drew feel light-headed. “About what Dreadlock Dude was saying earlier about ethical issues and—”

  There was a sickening whack followed by a howl of pain. Drew whirled around and saw Dreadlock Dude doubled over, gripping his hand.

  “Shit, are you okay?” Drew asked, scrambling over to where he was hunched on the other side of the porch. “What happened?”

  Violet dropped to her knees beside them. “Ohmygod, are you okay? What did you do? Can I get you some ice or a Band-Aid or—”

  “I hit it with the hammer,” he moaned. “My thumb. I think I broke it.”

  “Let’s see it,” Drew coaxed, shooting a quick look at Chris. He was a damn doctor. Why the hell wasn’t he the first one over here?

  Chris must have seen something in Drew’s expression, because he set down the board he’d been measuring and walked over to where they were clustered.

  “Let me take a look,” Chris said with authority. “Did anyone see the mechanism of injury?”

  “What?” said Dreadlock Dude.

  “He hit it with a fucking hammer,” Drew supplied. “That’s pretty much it.”

  Chris nodded sagely. “Let’s see it.”

  Slowly, Dreadlock Dude held out his hand and uncurled his fingers. Drew resisted the urge to grimace. Even with zero medical training he could tell the joint in his thumb had been completely smashed.

  “Ohmygod, that looks horrible,” Violet gasped.

  Drew frowned at her. “Way to be supportive.”

  “Sorry.”

  Chris was studying the thumb, turning it over, muttering about the color and the condition of the joint. Finally, he looked up at Dreadlock Dude.

  “You definitely need to get to the hospital. It appears you’ve shattered the joint. You need X-rays right away, probably surgery. Do you have health insurance?”

  “No.”

  “No matter. You have to get to the ER right away.”

  Drew waited for a moment, expecting the esteemed doctor to offer to drive him. When he didn’t, Drew stood up.

  “I’ll take him. Should we get some ice or—”

  “Yes, absolutely,” Chris said, and looked up at Violet… or down Violet’s blouse, Drew couldn’t really tell. “Violet, let’s run inside and prepare an ice pack.”

  “Oh,” Violet said, looking a little stunned. “Okay, sure, we’ll get ice and then we can all go to the hospital together.”

  Chris nodded, though Drew saw him frown a little. Clearly, this was not his plan. “Sure, Violet and I will follow in my car,” Chris said. “You two stay here for just a second and Violet and I will get the ice so you have it for the drive. Just hold the hand up like this. Keep it up, okay? We’ll be right back.”

  Violet cast another worried look at Dreadlock Dude before turning toward the house. “I’ll get some Tylenol, too.”

  “And maybe some of that wine?” said Dreadlock Dude. “I’m okay with the sulfites now.”

  Drew watched Violet and Chris disappear inside. He entertained a few unkind thoughts for a doctor who’d use someone else’s injury as a chance to get closer to a hot girl, even for a few moments.

  Beside him, Dreadlock Dude moaned. Drew looked back at him. “Hurts like hell, huh? Sorry about that. I didn’t realize you’d gone back to hammering.”

  “I was tired of sanding, dude.”

  “Right. Well, we can finish building later. Come on, let’s get you in the car. Think you can walk okay?”

  Dreadlock Dude nodded and stood up, swaying a little as he took a step. Grimacing at the smell of unwashed hair and patchouli, Drew helped him up and began walking him cautiously toward the c
ar.

  “Keep your hand up like the doctor said,” Drew instructed. “Watch your step here.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “No sweat.”

  Drew opened the door of his car and handed Dreadlock Dude into the passenger seat. “Need help with the seat belt?”

  “Dude,” he replied, moaning a little.

  Drew started to bend down, wondering what the hell was taking Chris and Violet so long with the ice.

  Dreadlock Dude caught his eye. “Dude,” he said, grimacing a little. “You’re not seriously going to let that jackwad have her, are you?”

  Drew stared at him for a few beats. “What are you talking about?”

  “The doctor. Violet. Come on, man, you know what I mean.”

  Drew shook his head and clicked the seat belt shut. “Violet isn’t my type. Not even close.”

  Dreadlock Dude gave him a weird little smile. “You haven’t experienced your conscious revolution yet, but when the blindness is removed from your third eye—”

  “Are you feeling dizzy?”

  Dreadlock Dude shook his head. “Dude. She already knows I’m not her soul mate. Now it’s, like, your job to make sure she knows he isn’t, either.”

  Drew just stared at him for a few beats, trying to find his place in the conversation. Was this guy delirious?

  Or was he actually more lucid than Drew had realized?

  Behind him, Drew heard Violet and Chris hustling out onto the front porch and slamming the front door. Drew looked at Dreadlock Dude and nodded.

  “So Moonbeam sent you here, huh?”

  ***

  An hour later, Drew wove his way through the hallway of the outpatient-rehab facility where Moonbeam was staying. Violet had told him how to find her, though she’d seemed leery about why he might want to.

  Violet was still over in the ER with Dreadlock Dude, while Chris alternately assumed the role of compassionate doctor and stole peeks down the front of Violet’s shirt.

  Not that it was any of Drew’s business.

  And it sure as hell wasn’t Moonbeam’s, either.

  He reached her doorway and knocked quietly.

  “Drew?” Moonbeam called from within. “Is that you, dear? I sensed your presence.”

  Drew rolled his eyes and ambled into the room, holding out the small vase of lilies he’d picked up in the hospital gift shop.

  “I don’t suppose sensing my presence has anything to do with Violet calling to let you know I was coming?”

  “Of course not, dear,” Moonbeam said as she accepted the flowers with a grateful smile. “You have a very distinct aura.”

  “That’s what all the girls say.”

  “What else did you bring?”

  “Cherry pie,” he said as he held out the box from the hospital cafeteria. “Two slices. I know it’s your favorite.”

  Moonbeam sighed with bliss and set the flowers aside to reach for the box. “And they used recycled cardboard instead of Styrofoam,” she gushed. “Thank you.”

  Drew handed her a fork and sat down in the chair beside the bed. He couldn’t help but notice how pale she looked, how much more frail she seemed than the last time he’d seen her at the shop. She dug into the pie with surprising vigor.

  “So how is Violet?” Moonbeam asked between bites. “You’ve been spending a fair amount of time together, haven’t you?”

  “Right. That’s actually what I came here to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?”

  Drew folded his arms over his chest. He looked at Moonbeam, studying her for signs of the scheming, unpredictable lunatic he knew her to be.

  Moonbeam was busy forking up cherries, not meeting his eyes at all.

  Drew cleared his throat. “Let me see if I can sum this up. You’ve spent the last few years hating my business and chastising me for the way I choose to make my living. If memory serves me right, you’ve described me as unenlightened, boorish, unesoteric, disrespectful—”

  “I also called you a poor planetary citizen,” Moonbeam said helpfully between bites.

  “Right. So explain to me why you’ve been trying to set me up with your daughter.”

  Moonbeam widened her eyes at him. She touched a hand to her chest, probably getting ready to feign heart failure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear.”

  “Please. Her first date with Dr. Chris, you sent her to a restaurant where you knew I’d be.”

  “I don’t keep track of where you take your bimbos.”

  “Bimbos?” Drew snorted. “You’ve been snarling at me for years over unenlightened word choices.”

  “Well really, dear, that ad campaign you did that talked about trouser snakes and—”

  “Never mind the trouser snakes. Or the bimbos. That’s not the issue here.”

  “No? Have you been dating more enlightened women, then?”

  Drew raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean Petal?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You sent her to the bar. You told her to pick me up. And you knew she’d annoy the hell out of me before we even got out of the parking lot.”

  Moonbeam gave him a look of innocence that was almost believable. “But dear, she’s exactly the sort of girl you like.”

  “So you did try to set us up.”

  “Of course not.”

  Drew sighed. “You’ve been shoving inappropriate women at me, and inappropriate men at Violet, and trying to convince us both that we’re meant to be together.”

  Moonbeam’s eyes opened wide. “That’s the most ridiculous—”

  “Exactly what I thought. What I want to know is why?”

  Moonbeam stared at him for a moment. Her expression was perfectly bland. He couldn’t tell if she was angry, offended, or just annoyed at being busted. Maybe he’d guessed wrong here. Maybe…

  “Well, Drew,” Moonbeam said sternly, “you certainly think very highly of yourself. Why on earth would I want you dating my daughter?”

  “Exactly. God knows she’s not my type, and I’m sure as hell not hers.”

  Moonbeam pressed her lips together and looked at him. “I’d have to be crazy to want Violet involved with someone in such a despicable profession.”

  “I’m with you on the ‘crazy’ part. Not so much the ‘despicable,’ but I’ve been called worse.”

  “I’m certain you have.”

  “By you, mostly.”

  Moonbeam frowned and took another bite of cherry pie. When she finished chewing, she looked at him. “Let me ask you something, dear.”

  “Fire away.”

  “You’ve known Violet for almost two weeks now. Do you think she belongs with Dr. Abbott?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Why not? Why doesn’t my daughter deserve to date a smart, wealthy, successful doctor?”

  “The damn doctor doesn’t deserve her,” Drew snapped, a little louder than he’d intended. “Violet has way too much spirit for him. Too much passion. He’s all wrong for her.”

  “You think so?”

  Drew frowned. “So do you.”

  “Hmmm,” Moonbeam said, and took another bite of pie. Not a yes, not a no.

  Drew huffed an exasperated breath. “Look, I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but he’s boring. Violet thinks that’s what she wants, but it’s not. The last thing in the world she needs is normal. Normal would drive her nuts.”

  Moonbeam eyed him carefully, the same calculated expression he’d seen her use with countless unsuspecting clients over the years.

  “Well, dear,” Moonbeam said slowly, “that may be the first thing we’ve agreed on in ten years.”

  “Let’s not hug over this, okay?”

  Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “You’re precisely right. Violet does not need normal.”

  “Fine. We agree on that. But it’s not your place to make those decisions for her. For me.”

  “I’m not making decisions for any of you, dear. You’re both allowed to make your own choices. It’s called fr
ee will. I’m just helping things along.”

  “Just what the world needs. A fake psychic matchmaker.”

  Moonbeam pressed her lips together and studied him. “You could do a whole lot worse than Violet, dear. I’ve seen you do it over and over again, as a matter of fact.”

  “I’ve enjoyed doing it, thank you very much.”

  “Past tense?”

  Drew frowned. “I don’t understand. You don’t like me, Moonbeam. You’ve never liked me.”

  “I don’t like your business decisions, dear.”

  “I’m not wild about yours, either.”

  “See? Something else we have in common.”

  “Mutual abhorrence for each other’s career choices is hardly the basis for friendship.”

  Moonbeam shrugged and nibbled a piece of pie crust. “You said it yourself. The last thing Violet needs is normal. You certainly aren’t normal. At least, not in the way she thinks she wants.”

  Drew scowled at her. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or to smother you with your pillow.”

  “You’re normal in the ways that matter, dear,” Moonbeam said patiently. “You’re a stable energy in Violet’s life. She needs that. But she also needs passion. Positive energy. A yang for her yin. Inner divinity.”

  “What drugs did they put in that pie?”

  Moonbeam pressed her lips together, looking serene and all-knowing. Then she forked up a giant, gloopy cherry, ignoring the question.

  Drew scowled at her. “What makes you think I even want to date Violet? Or that she wants to date me?”

  Moonbeam smiled and patted the back of his hand. He knew what she was going to say before the words even left her lips.

  “I’m psychic, dear.”

  Drew sighed. “Of course you are.”

  Chapter 16

  Violet was sitting in the ER waiting room, completely engrossed in an article about toenail infections, but she knew the instant Drew walked into the room.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “You smell like sawdust and pizza.”

  He dropped into the plastic seat beside her. “That sounds like a marketable cologne to me.”

  “How’s Mom?”

  “Tired. I told her you wanted to come and visit as soon as you’re done here, but the nurse chased me out and said no more guests tonight.”