There were a surprising number of customers for a late afternoon on a Monday, but I figured that would work in my favor. Nevertheless, I still wasn’t happy to see there was someone in front of me at the pharmacy counter.
“Can I take this with soup?” an elderly man asked the woman ringing him up.
“The medication says to take with food,” she said, giving her attention to the register.
“But soup’s not food,” the elderly man said. “It’s liquid.”
The clerk looked exasperated. “It’s food. Besides, soup usually has chunks of meat and vegetables.”
“But I like the tomato kind. There’s no chunks.”
The clerk gave the man a hard stare. “It’s food.”
“But—”
Transferring my basket to my left hand, I approached the elderly man and shifted the hat back on my head so I could give him a warm smile. “I think the pharmacy tech is telling you that you just need to have something in your stomach when you take your pills.”
“Then why didn’t she just say so?” he demanded, then squinted his eyes.
“I’ve been tryin’ to!” she said in a loud voice.
“I think this is just a simple misunderstandin’,” I insisted, then flashed the clerk a smile. If I stood up for her, she’d hopefully be more lenient if she recognized my name.
The older man stared at me like I was a circus oddity. “Why are you covering your face with that hat?”
My face flushed. “I work outside in the heat. A lady should shield her face from the sun.”
“You’re in the damn store,” he grumped. “No sun in here.”
I took a step back. So much for offering my help.
He finally took his bag and hobbled away, and I walked back up to the counter and lowered my voice. “I’m here to pick up a prescription.”
“Name?” the clerk asked.
“Rose. Rose Gardner.”
Her eyes went round. “Aren’t you . . . ?”
I leaned on the counter and pleaded. “Can you give me my prescription? Please.”
She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I’ve heard about you.”
She stared at me as though I was the boogeyman. What on earth had they been saying about me?
“Look,” I said. “There was a mistake when the prescription was called in here, but I don’t want to cause trouble. If you’ll just give me my medicine, I’ll be on my way. I promise not to come back.”
She gave me an apologetic grimace. “I’m gonna have to call security.”
Piggly Wiggly had security now? “Didn’t you take an oath to do no harm?” I asked. “Isn’t withholding medication doin’ harm?”
She started pressing numbers while shaking her head. “That’s the Hippocratic oath, and I ain’t no doctor.”
“Are you willing to risk a lawsuit?” asked a man as he approached the counter. All of the breath left my chest when I recognized his voice. “My client is entitled to her medication.”
I lifted the brim of my floppy hat, stunned to see I hadn’t had an auditory hallucination.
Mason Deveraux stood at the counter next to me, wearing dress pants and a long-sleeved button-down shirt that was open at the collar. But he wasn’t looking at me. His full attention was on the clerk.
“Client?” the woman asked. “Lawsuit?”
“Everyone is entitled to health care,” Mason said.
“That ain’t true,” she said, starting to recover. “Just last week my momma’s doctor of twenty years kicked her out on account of she ain’t got no insurance and she was behind on her payments.”
Mason glanced down at her name tag before shifting his gaze up to meet hers. “Stephanie . . . ,” he said in a softer voice. “May I call you Stephanie?”
She nodded, looking anxious.
“It’s obvious what happened to your mother is a travesty, so why not try to right a wrong by giving Ms. Gardner her medication?”
“I’m not supposed to.”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “This country was built by men and women who stood up for the downtrodden. You, Stephanie, can take the first step in standing up for patients’ rights. All it takes is giving this poor woman her medication.”
She mulled over his words for a moment, then cast a nervous glance behind her before asking, “Are you picking up medication too?”
“Yes. For my mother, Maeve Deveraux.”
Her mouth twisted to the side. “I suppose if I just happened to pick up her medication while I was gettin’ yours, it might not be so bad.”
Mason gave her a dazzling smile. “That would be greatly appreciated.”
It was apparent she was mesmerized by his smile because she walked backward a few steps before bumping into a shelf and rattling a bunch of bottles. Realizing what she’d done, she spun around and disappeared in the back.
Mason turned to me, and I stared up at him as though I was seeing a ghost. Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe he was standing here next to me after all these months.
He watched me, emotions wavering in his hazel eyes, but none that I could read.
Why was he here? Was he back? I was blindsided by his sudden appearance, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.
“Hey,” he said, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper.
There were so many things I wanted to tell him—I’d imagined this day for the past five months—and depending on my mood, the conversation had either gone very well or very badly. So I was surprised that the first thing that popped out of my mouth was, “You left a box behind.”
He blinked in surprise. “What?”
“A box of your stuff,” I said. “The movers forgot to put it in your truck. Didn’t your momma tell you? I told her to tell you.” I was rambling, but I couldn’t help myself.
He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Why don’t you go wait in your truck, and I’ll get your prescription and bring it to you.”
“Uh . . .” I considered protesting and telling him I didn’t need his help. Not anymore, but he’d just proven that I did, and it chafed. I pulled my hand away.
“Rose,” he pleaded, and I wasn’t sure if he was pleading with me to let him get my antibiotic or . . . more.
In the end, I knew I couldn’t handle seeing him here. Not like this.
Dropping my gaze, I reached inside my purse. “I’ll leave you money to pay for it, but I don’t know how much it costs.” I fumbled to get out my wallet, but my hands were shaking too much.
“Rose,” he said, choking on my name. “I’ll pay for it. You can reimburse me later.” He took the basket from my hand. “I’ll take care of these too.”
I nodded because I didn’t trust myself to speak, then practically ran toward the entrance. The stupid hat brim was blocking my view, and I nearly crashed into a woman’s cart.
“Look where you’re goin’!” the woman snarled.
“Sorry,” I said, fighting tears.
I ripped the hat off, lest I crash into someone else, but I immediately regretted my mistake.
“Oh my God! Rose Gardner is in the store!” someone shouted.
Suddenly, lights started flashing on the ceiling and a loud, piercing siren went off.
“Security to the front,” a voice said overhead.
I ran for the entrance, making it through the sliding doors just before a security guard showed up in the opening.
“If you come back again, we’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
“Don’t worry,” I shouted over my shoulder. “I have no plans to come back.”
I hurried to my truck and fumbled with the key as I started the engine. Once the air-conditioning was going, I rested my hands on the steering wheel.
Mason was back.
Tears streamed down my face, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what I was crying about. But one thing was for certain—Mason would come out of that store soon, and I wasn’t going to let him find me like this.
I s
at up and grabbed several tissues from my purse, then wiped my face and blew my nose. I stuffed them back into my purse when I saw Mason approach my truck with two bags.
He rounded the hood and opened the passenger door. “Can I get in for a moment?”
“Uh . . . sure.”
He gave me another look, obviously hearing the hesitation in my voice, then got inside and shut the door.
I pulled out my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it, Rose.”
“No,” I said, my back stiffening. “You’ve already done enough. How much do I owe you?”
“I didn’t have your insurance information, so the antibiotic was expensive.”
I pulled out all the bills I had—which wasn’t much—out of my wallet. “How much?”
“Just give me twenty dollars, and we’ll call it good.”
I grabbed the bag and found the receipt. $86.91. I counted out my bills, coming up nearly forty dollars short.
I shoved the money at him in frustration “I’ll pay you the rest later.”
His hand gently covered mine. “Rose. It’s okay.”
Anger flooded through me, and I jerked my hand away. “I don’t need you anymore, Mason Deveraux. You made damn sure of that when you left me.”
Sadness washed over his face. “I know, and I’ll regret it until my dying day.”
“What are you doin’ here?”
“Picking up my mother’s medication. Just like I told Stephanie.”
I shook my head. “Not that. Here in Henryetta. How long have you been here?”
“I literally just got into town. Mom and I are going out to dinner, but she mentioned she needed to pick up a prescription, so I offered to do it for her.”
“So you’re here visiting your mother?”
He hesitated. “It’s an added bonus. I’m here on official business.”
“Attorney general business?”
He looked surprised. “Yeah.”
“I’m still friends with your momma,” I said. “She told me things. Including the fact you’ve been datin’.”
His eyes widened as his cheeks turned pink. “Oh.”
“You can do whatever the heck you want,” I said in a snotty tone. “You broke up with me. That means we can both do whatever the heck we want.”
“Does that mean I can’t ask you why Tim Dermot prescribed you antibiotics?”
he asked, his voice rough.
“You have no right to snoop into my life, Mason Deveraux! What were you doin’ spyin’ on me?”
“I wasn’t spying on you, but I confess I was worried about the amount and size of bandages you purchased, so I looked at the prescription. I care about you, Rose. You can’t fault me for that.”
“Care about me?” I shouted, knowing that I sounded like a crazy person, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Where the hell have you been for the last five months, Mason? Where were you when I went to Houston in April and donated bone marrow for my sister? I was alone and terrified. I needed you. Where were you then?”
Tears filled his eyes. “Rose. I had no idea.”
“No. How could you since you abandoned me? I lost just about everything to save you, and you thanked me by deserting me.”
Anger flashed on his face. “Don’t you pretend you only did it for me. You did it for him too.”
“Him who?” Then I realized what he was saying. “You mean James Malcolm?”
His mouth dropped open. “You call him James now?”
“I called him James before you ever left,” I said in the most hateful tone I could muster.
His gazed turned hard. “So you were sleepin’ with him before I left too?”
I gasped, more hurt than if he’d accused me of murdering someone. “Get out! Get the hell out of my truck!”
“So you’re admitting it?” he demanded, not budging.
To my irritation, a tear spilled down my cheek and I angrily swept at it. “You pretty much asked me the same thing last winter, Mason, and the answer is the same as it was back then. No. No. I never cheated on you. And if you were too stupid to see I was so in love with you that I couldn’t entertain the notion of sleepin’ with anyone else, then you didn’t deserve me. And if you begrudge me for becoming the Lady in Black when I kept doin’ it to save your life, then that’s two strikes against you. Get out.”
“You’re still doin’ it, aren’t you?” he asked, sounding pissed.
“Doin’ what?”
“You’re still the Lady in Black.”
I shook my head, hating to lie, but Mason was no longer my boyfriend. I couldn’t count on him to cover for me. So I went with option three. “You can’t just break my heart and expect to walk back into my life. Get out.”
He snatched the prescription from my bag. “I know about Tim Dermot, Rose. You’re workin’ with him now? What happened to Malcolm?”
Crap. Crap. Crap. “Are you askin’ me in an official capacity?”
His countenance changed. This was no longer my scorned ex-boyfriend; this was the by-the-books assistant DA I’d first met last summer. “Should I be?”
I grabbed my cell phone and pulled up my contacts.
“Who the hell are you callin’?” he asked in exasperation.
“My attorney.”
“Carter Hale? So you have him on speed dial? How often have you used him since I left?”
I lowered the phone and stared at him in disbelief. “Do you really think so little of me now?” I asked, tears flooding my eyes again.
Why was I crying over this man? Why was I giving him the power to hurt me after he’d already hurt me so much?
His shoulders slumped, and contrition filled his eyes. “Rose. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You just . . .”
“Get under your skin,” I finished for him, still pissed.
“No.” His voice broke. “Make me feel so damn much.”
Now I really started to cry. I’d loved him so much I’d willingly risked my life and my reputation to keep him safe. I’d become the Lady in Black, a decision that was still making waves in my life. And while I understood Mason’s horror that his girlfriend had lied to him and joined forces with the man he was trying to put behind bars, I’d always expected him to come to his senses soon after breaking up with me.
I knew how he was when he got angry. He would blow his top, then storm off to cool down. But in the past he’d always come back. He’d apologize—and so would I—and we’d be stronger than before. I realized now that I’d always expected him to come back. I’d pined for him for months, but he had never once called or texted. Never checked to make sure I was okay.
He put a hand on my arm. “Rose, I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I planned to see you again.”
I shoved his hand off. “You planned how you’d see me again? You planned?”
A sheepish look washed over his face. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“What exactly did you plan?”
He grimaced. “I’d planned to call you and see if we could meet in person and discuss . . . things.”
“Like your presumptions about my involvement in the criminal world?”
His eyes hardened. “No. But we can discuss that if you’d like.”
I grabbed my checkbook out of my purse and found a pen.
“What the hell are you doing now?” he asked.
“I’m making sure I don’t owe you a damn thing.” I scribbled the amount of money I owed him on both lines.
“Rose,” he sighed as I signed my name.
I didn’t say anything as I filled in the payee line with Mason Deveraux, the man who doesn’t deserve me, then ripped out the check and handed it to him. “This conversation is done.”
He glanced down at the check. “You’re right,” he said, meeting my eyes. “I don’t deserve you. Maybe I never did.”
I stuffed my checkbook into my purse. “I’ve got an appointment I’m goin’ to be late for.”
But he didn’t
move to get out of the car. He was still for a second. Then he said, “I’m sorry, Rose. I’d like to see you again before I leave. Maybe cooler heads will prevail.”
I grabbed the steering wheel and stared out at the parking lot, not committing one way or the other. Part of me wanted to tell him to go screw himself, yet part of me held back. I couldn’t figure out why. Did I still have feelings for him, or did I want to keep him around as a friend like I had with Joe?
He started to open the passenger door, then stopped. “Are you okay?”
I turned to him, pissed anew. “How can you ask me that after this?”
“Not after our . . . talk,” he said, looking chagrinned. “The bandages . . . the antibiotic . . . are you okay?”
“It’s a little late to be askin’ me that now, isn’t it?” I asked, feeling like I’d run a marathon.
“Nevertheless . . .”
“I’m fine, not that you have any right to know.”
“I meant what I said. I still care about you, Rose.”
I shook my head, refusing to look at him. “Carin’ about someone is being there when they are at their loneliest and most broken. Not only were you not there, but you’re the one who broke me.”
He got out but didn’t close the door. “You’re wrong,” he said softly. “You may have thought I broke you, but you’re stronger than ever. And I still love you. I’ve wanted so badly to call you or text you or get in my goddamned car and drive here to see you, but I stopped myself every damn time,” he said, getting worked up, his voice tight. “Do you know why?”
I couldn’t stop myself from turning to look at him in anticipation of his response.
“Because I was still pissed at you for breaking us. For putting me in the position of possibly destroying my career.” Tears filled his eyes. “But mostly, I was pissed at myself for being a goddamned hypocrite. I let you save me and then I condemned you for it.” He took a breath. “You’re like a mirror, Rose. Anyone who gets close to you gets a reflection of who they truly are, and I didn’t like what I saw. So I left because I wanted to become the man you needed me to be.”
Hell in a Handbasket Page 11