Sweet Salvation

by Maddie Taylor

  “Are they that bad?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No,” she exclaimed emphatically, pushing her plate away. “I’ve already lost my appetite. If we talk about it, I might lose something else.”

  Stacy wrinkled her nose. Nothing was off limits at mealtime to these medical people. When all four of them went out together, they often did the same thing, sometimes turning Stacy green. She quickly redirected the conversation to something less hazardous to her stomach.

  “Forget his family. I think you and the big guy are perfect for each other. Marc is so sweet with you. It’s obvious how much he loves you. We have no control over what kind of life we’re born into, which is really just a crapshoot. What matters is the path and choices we make along the way. Just because you grew up with barely a pot to piss in, doesn’t mean they are better than you are because they were born into wealth. In truth, I think it’s the reverse. It’s easy to go through life having everything handed to you, but when you struggle, scrape, and fight for what you have, that builds character, don’t you think?”

  Jessie simply stared at her in disbelief.

  “Waxing philosophical, was I? What can I say, therapy seems to be helping.”

  “Maybe I need a referral.” She fell silent for a moment, before she looked up with more conviction. “You’re right. My childhood may have sucked, but look how far I’ve come. Marc doesn’t seem to care where I come from either.”

  Stacy nodded emphatically. “Why should he? Think about all you’ve accomplished without being born with a silver spoon. Marc should feel lucky a strong woman like you chose him.”

  Jessie laughed, but broke it off quickly, raising her hands to massage her temples.

  “Another migraine?” Stacy asked, eyeing Jessie speculatively. She was stressed when she should be happy and carefree at this special time in her life, but like herself, that didn’t seem to be the case. “Weddings suck! They should be outlawed. They turn ordinarily nice, normal, rational women into nervous wrecks. I hate to see you hurting, Jess. Do you need to go?”

  “No, I took one of my new pills before I came in. It usually works in about thirty minutes.” Checking the time on her phone, she sighed and leaned her head back against the booth. “Thirteen more minutes and I should be all better.”

  “You’ve been having a lot of migraines recently. It’s the wedding stress? You’re an even bigger wreck than me these days.”

  “I am the very definition of stressed, what with work and the wedding. It’s less than two months away and I don’t even have a dress yet. My mom is helping as much as she can, but she’s been working overtime too. She stopped by the hospital to have lunch with me over the weekend and she is not doing well.”

  “What do you mean? She’s not sick, is she?”

  “No,” Jess grabbed her purse and began searching for something. She pulled out a small pack of tissues and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, Stacy, she broke my heart. My dad contacted her.”

  “What? I thought he’d disappeared off the map.”

  “He did. Neither of us has heard from him in thirteen years, until now.”

  “Why is he popping up now—clear out of nowhere—what did he want?”

  “A divorce.”

  Stacy stared at her, taken aback. “You mean after all this time they’re still married? Dang!”

  Jess nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. She wiped them quickly away. “You know, I’ve cried buckets over what happened between him and my mom, but it’s a complete waste of time and energy. I refuse to shed another tear over my father; it never changes a damn thing anyway.”

  “Why didn’t your mom take him to court for support or sue him for abandonment? Or for being a complete asshat in general? That’s a crime, isn’t it?”

  “General Asshat, that’s a good name for him. I might start calling him that.” Jessie gave her a humorless smile as she wiped her eyes. “We had no idea where he went and my mother wouldn’t even discuss divorce. She always had the foolish hope that one day he’d come back.”

  “Geez!” They sat in silence for a moment. Stacy contemplated how a woman could still want a man after all the pain he caused, the mistreatment and abandonment, but most of all the total neglect he’d shown for the daughter they shared. “So, why does he want a divorce all of a sudden? Why now?” Stacy’s eyes widened before Jess formulated an answer. “Don’t tell me…”

  “Yep, evidently his girlfriend is threatening to leave him, unless he mans up, marries her, and takes responsibility. How ironic is that?”

  “Hot damn, the bastard deserves it!”

  “Yeah, apparently he moved in with her not long after he ditched me and Mom. They have two kids, a nine-year-old boy and the oldest, a girl, who just turned thirteen.”

  Stacy’s heart broke for her friend. Her father had left thirteen years ago; that meant the bastard had been cheating well before he left and had most likely planned the whole desertion. “Oh, Jess.”

  “The math doesn’t lie, does it? That was the first thing Mom and I did—the math. She was crushed, Stacy. For your husband to leave without a word is a vicious blow, but to find out he’d cheated, and done it for God knows how long, while still sharing a bed and going through all the motions of ‘til death do us part? That broke her. It tainted any good memories she had left. She used to blame it on the diner, but she can’t anymore. He was just a pathetic excuse for a man.”

  Stacy’s hands reached helplessly for Jessie’s, wishing she knew how to ease her friend’s pain. Words were useless, so she just hung on, being there for her, offering her support.

  “I’m torn between heartache and rage. How could he just throw us away? Oh, Stace, it’s as if I’m thirteen again because all those feelings of inadequacy have come surging back. Was I to blame? Did I do something to drive him away? Why couldn’t he love us?”

  “I’m so sorry, Jess. Please tell me she hired a cutthroat lawyer and plans to take him to the cleaners, the rat bastard.”

  “That’s what I told her.” Jessie looked at her watch. “Well, it’s been thirty minutes and the icepick is still wedged behind my eye.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, I’m getting used to it. I just dread working with a throbbing skull. I’d really like to go home and crawl in bed, but I picked up a few extra shifts to help with the attorney fees. Hopefully it won’t get too messy and drawn out or Marc will kill me.”

  “Surely Marc can help with that.”

  “This isn’t his problem, Stacy.”

  “It will be if you work yourself to death.”

  Jess looked up at her in question. “You sound exactly like Marc. Have you been talking to him?”

  “Of course not. I love Marc, but you and I are BFFs. What’s said between us stays between us.” Stacy pantomimed zipping and locking her mouth, then throwing away the key. “I don’t know why you’re killing yourself at the hospital when you could be working at the clinic with me and the guys.”

  “That’s what Marc wants me to do.”

  “I’d think you’d jump at the chance to get out of that political quagmire and into a nice, calm clinic setting. The hours are better, it’s still challenging but not crazy, you get to do what you love, and the biggest upside is that you get to see your man whenever you want.”

  “Don’t you worry about working with Jared after you’re married? I mean 24/7, don’t you worry it will add conflict, or that you’ll get sick of each other? My parents worked together and, well, you know how that turned out.”

  Stacy frowned at her friend. Jess had told her how as a child her parents fought all the time, her father turning to liquor and women before he finally left them one night, never to be heard from again. “Your parents had a failed business, and to be frank, from all you have told me, General Asshat was just that. Don’t paint everyone with his defective brush. I also imagine running a diner
is a lot different from a doctor’s office. Jared and Marc have a thriving practice. Not to mention, I can’t see either of them turning to the bottle or other women to cope. Can you?”

  Jess looked down at her plate and shook her head.

  “That wasn’t very convincing. You don’t think that Marc would stray, do you? He loves you, Jess.”

  “My mom and dad were in love when they first started out. Life doesn’t always go as we plan, Stace. You know that better than anyone.”

  “If you don’t trust him, how can you consider marrying him?” Stacy asked, hearing the doubt in her friend’s voice as her frown deepened. Was there something she wasn’t telling her?

  “Losing my parents at the same time was never something I imagined, even in my worst nightmare. It was tough and I still struggle with it, but I didn’t crawl in the grave with them, Jess. That wasn’t what they would have wanted for me. I feel sure my mom would have come back and haunted me, if I hadn’t gone on living my life. She wanted me to be happy. I’m sure your mom wants the same for you.”

  Jess shrugged, clearly unconvinced. Her phone alert sounded at that moment.

  Stacy remembered something as she watched Jess dig through her purse. “Before I forget…” She dug through her own and pulled out a card. “Here is the address for the bridal boutique that I told you about. I won’t need the appointment so I’m giving it to you. It’s on Thursday. I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive over together. Don’t let the hospital snooker you into working overtime. Your wedding is in less than eight weeks and you have to find a dress.”

  The irony of Stacy taking an interest in any kind of wedding planning wasn’t lost on her as her friend took the card.

  Jessie looked at it absently, murmuring, “I don’t know if I have the heart. A courthouse wedding sounds better the more I think about it. If I have a real wedding, I’d have to put up with Marc’s family and I dread the thought of ever having to see them again, let alone be in the same room with them for hours.”

  “I suggested Vegas and getting married by Elvis. Jared vetoed that although his dad thought it would be cool.”

  “Can you imagine?” they said in unison. Both women laughed at the coincidence.

  “It’s awfully tempting.” Jessie had a far-off look in her eyes. “Mom has a little saved, but doesn’t have near the money needed to pay for anything nice, so I’m doing it myself. Oh, to have all the money I spent on those ten hideous bridesmaid gowns. There goes my rainy day fund and safety net.”

  She didn’t finish her thought and left Stacy confused. Why was she worried about money? Marc was raking it in just as fast as Jared was, plus his family was loaded. Surely, they didn’t expect her and her mother to put on a big spread, and foot the bill as was tradition for the bride’s family. What confused Stacy was her last comment, which seemed way out of context.

  “What do you mean, safety net?”

  Jess cleared her throat uncomfortably before she explained. “Haven’t you ever worried about what happens if your marriage fails? Not that I think it would, but you said yourself, you and Jared are very different. What happens if it doesn’t work? You couldn’t go on working for him, could you? If Marc and I were to split up for some reason, I don’t think I could stay in a job where I had to see him every day, let alone watching him moving on and starting to date other women. If I worked at the clinic, I’d definitely have to quit.”

  “That’s crazy talk, you know that, right, Jess?”

  “I worry, Stacy. I can’t help it, considering my parents. Besides, I have outstanding loans and a sign-on bonus obligation to the hospital. If it didn’t work out…” She shook her head before saying adamantly, “I refuse to be like my mother and be left destitute.”

  Stacy reached out and squeezed Jessie’s hand. She hated to see her friend so conflicted, especially when she knew she was so desperately in love. “First of all, I don’t see it happening because as I’ve said you are perfect. Second, if it did—which it’s not—Marc wouldn’t leave you destitute. He’s a good man. He’d see you settled. I’m sure of it.”

  “You’re right. This is crazy talk.”

  “Oh, Jess, we are so screwed. You love Marc as much as I love Jared. Therefore, we’re both doomed to spend the rest of our lives with two arrogant, domineering, infuriatingly dictatorial spank-o-holics and we’ll love every minute of it.”

  “I guess I’m being silly about all this. I trust Marc. I really do. Just swear to remind me of that fact whenever I start complaining about his evil mother and her three bitchy daughters.”

  “Deal. In exchange, you’ll have to smack me each time I complain about Jared’s perfectly wonderful, sainted mother. I can’t hold a candle to Wonder Woman, but that’s not her fault.”

  “I’ll trade you. I’d take Wonder Woman over Cruella de Vil and her pack. How she raised such a wonderful man is beyond me.”

  “At least you don’t have a pillar of goodness to live up to.”

  “You must be joking. There is no comparison. I drew the short straw in this arrangement, by far.”

  Stacy knew she was right. If Joanne was a bitch, her life would be more stressed than it already was. “Okay, you win the worst mother-in-law contest. Just keep your man happy and satisfied and you should be able to minimize exposure to the dark side.”

  “I’ll try, but he’s a stickler for Sunday dinners at his moms. My presence is required once a month, although I’m trying to negotiate visitation down to months with ‘r’s’ and every other Christmas.”

  Stacy chuckled. “Good luck with those terms.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jess, you’ve got all the power, you know. Just work your moneymaker. With that body, you should be mastering him, not the other way around. My nana used to say, men have two moods: horny and hungry. If his cock ain’t hard, make him a sandwich.”

  The old woman at the table beside them overheard and gasped. She also signaled for the check. That didn’t stop Stacy, although she did lower her voice just a tad.

  “If sex and a sandwich don’t work, call me for girls’ night. Me and my friend Jose Cuervo will help you deal—all it takes is salt, slices of lime, and numerous shots of tequila.”

  Stacy nodded toward the older woman as she collected her things and whispered overly loud, “I bet she tells that joke to everyone she meets this week: at bingo, bridge with the girls, and Wednesday night prayer meeting.”

  They snickered as she walked away. Jessie’s phone rang seconds later and they too called for the check. It was the hospital. Duty called—again.

  Chapter Ten

  Throwing down her pencil in disgust, Stacy speared her fingers through her hair. There was something wrong with the cell formatting in her spreadsheet, she was sure, so she was adding them manually but each time she’d gotten a different answer. Arg! Stacy groaned with frustration as she reached for her calculator to start from scratch once more.

  “Problems?”

  Glancing up, she saw Marc leaning in the doorway, smiling.

  “How’s your math?”

  “Sorry, Stace, math was not my thing. That’s why I went into medicine. The only thing I have to calculate is medication dosages and I have Socrates and pharmacists to help me with that.”

  “Socrates? A dead Greek philosopher helps you with how many grams of penicillin to order? Want the name of my shrink?”

  “It’s the name of the app, piccola.”

  “Ah!” She smiled back. “I learn something new every day around here.”

  He chuckled as he walked into her office, plopping down in the wing chair across from her desk. “How are the figures on the new project coming along?”

  “That’s what I’m working on. I’ve got the latest figures from the investment group and their capital projections but something isn’t adding up.” She turned her laptop tablet around so he could see and for the next half hour, they brainstormed.

  “I don’t see it. But
as I said, math is not my forte.”

  “I hate to do it but I’m going to have to ask them to rerun the numbers and come back for another meeting with the accountants. This is just too important with millions of dollars on the line.”

  “Dollars and asses are on the line here, so call ‘em back, ten more times if you have to, until it’s right and to your satisfaction. I’m glad you’re on top of it, Stacy.”

  “Yeah? It’s scary, but I like it on top and I’m giving it all I’ve got. So we’ll do it again and again until we get it right.”

  “And you’ll be watching out for my ass?”

  “Yes, while I’m covering mine, because I sure don’t want to screw up and get spanked.”

  “What in the hell are you two talking about?”

  Stacy and Marc looked up at Jared in surprise. They hadn’t even heard him come in.

  “Excuse me, I’m a fairly mild-mannered man, but I have to question why my best friend and fiancée are talking about her liking it on top and getting her ass spanked.” His eyes shot to Marc’s and he raised a brow in question.

  At the affronted look on his face, Stacy realized how their conversation must have sounded out of context; anyone walking down the hall would have wondered the same thing. When she looked at Marc’s identical look of dismay, she realized he’d come to the same conclusion. Their eyes met and in unison, they burst out laughing.

  Jared wasn’t amused and said her name impatiently. Stacy promptly stepped up to explain. “It wasn’t my real ass, darlin’. We were referring to my job—my proverbial ass as it were—and the collective ass of the clinic, in general.”

  “That’s as clear as mud.” Jared replied nonplussed.

  “Bud, your girl’s proverbial ass is going to save the clinic one day, mark my words.”

  Marc ruffled Stacy’s hair affectionately before leaving. As he walked to the door he chuckled, “As for spanking her ass, I’ve got a redhead at home who keeps me occupied, so no worries. Sorry if I’m leaving you hanging, Stace, but I’ve got a procedure.” He grinned at Jared once more and left with a wave to Stacy behind him.