by Chanta Rand
She picked up the phone again and dialed another number.
A voice answered. “Hello?”
“We need to talk,” Alexa said bluntly.
“About what?”
“Tristan Rexford.”
Viola paused on the other end of the line. “Meet me for lunch at the Capitol Grille.”
“Why can’t we just eat in the cafeteria?”
“No can do,” Viola protested. “Besides, I’m going to need reinforcements to deal with this.”
* * *
When Alexa arrived at the Capitol Grille thirty minutes later, Viola was already sitting at a table with two of their mutual friends, Yvette and Jade.
“So this is what you meant by reinforcements,” Alexa glared at her. “Coward.”
Viola shrugged. “There’s safety in numbers.”
Yvette and Jade were hardly impartial. They always took Viola’s side, and Alexa knew that this time would be no exception. Yet, she’d known each of these women for most of her professional life. She trusted them, and she knew that whatever words transpired between them would always be held in the strictest of confidence.
“I’m so glad you could all be here on such short notice,” Alexa said sarcastically.
Yvette was the first to respond. As usual, she looked professional and polished, wearing her hair in a short, sleek bob. “Court’s in recess for the rest of the day. So I’m free.”
“Great,” Alexa said dryly. “That’s one more lawyer loose on the streets of Dallas. And what about you, Jade? Won’t the IRS be looking for its best auditor?”
“Nope,” she said looking into her compact mirror and applying a fresh coat of MAC’s Oh Baby lip gloss to her already prefect lips. “I’m an accountant, not a slave. I get a lunch break just like everyone else.” She smacked her lips together for emphasis. “And by the way,” she added, “I saw your picture in the paper, girl!”
Alexa pursed her lips. “So what? I’ve been in the paper before.”
“Yeah, but not with T-Rex. You’re becoming a regular celebrity.” She tossed her long braided hair over her shoulder and laughed.
“The publicity has been great for the hospital,” Viola said. “The board members are very pleased.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Alexa retorted.
“So, tell us, what’s he like?” Yvette asked.
“The man is stalking me,” Alexa told her.
“What’s your definition of stalking?”
“Okay, first of all, he sent me over a hundred bouquets of flowers today.”
“Last I heard, that wasn’t a crime. Very impressive, but not criminal.”
“And he keeps calling me. He’s called me a dozen times this week alone.”
“Is he saying anything threatening?” Viola asked.
“No. He keeps going on about the kiss.”
Viola squealed like a gossip columnist who’d just gotten a juicy tidbit. “What kiss? You didn’t tell me about any kiss!”
“Oh, hell no,” Yvette interjected. “You’ve been holding out on us, Alexa.”
“I’m jealous,” Jade said, smiling. “Give us the dirt. How was it?”
“Great,” Alexa admitted.
“So what’s the problem?” Viola asked.
“There’s no problem. I just don’t want to see him again.”
“Why not?”
“I’m just not used to this. All the calls. Now the flowers. What does he want from me?”
“I think that’s obvious, Alexa.”
“I already told him no. Last week when we had drinks, he offered me a night of unbridled passion, no strings attached.”
“Damn! And you said no?”
Alexa let out a long breath of air. “Of course I said no.”
Viola sipped from her glass of tea before responding. “Alexa, what is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me. Why am I the one with the problem?”
“You’re always complaining about the complications of relationships. Now someone comes along and offers you a Get Some Good Lovin’ Free card and you turn it down flat. Tristan is good-looking, successful, heterosexual, and single. For once in your life, there is no baby mama drama, no conflict of interest with work, and no need to worry that he’s after your money. He’s the total package, Alexa.”
Alexa’s eyebrow shot up at Viola’s defense of him. “Since when did you become the president of his fan club?”
The ladies all laughed, but Viola pressed on. “I think you should do it,” she suggested.
“You’re telling me I should have a one-night stand with him?”
“Yes. You need to get him out of your system, and I think this is the only way to do it.”
Jade joined in. “Katrina says you have to live like a woman, but love like a man.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Yvette demanded.
“It means you can’t let your emotions get involved. You have to keep it strictly physical. That’s what men do!”
“Who in the world is Katrina?” Viola asked.
Jade looked at her like she’d grown horns. “Duh. My hairdresser.”
“Isn’t that the same girl who left her husband for another woman?”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“I wouldn’t take any advice from Katrina,” Yvette warned. “That woman is about as sharp as a mashed potato.”
“She’s not the only one who thinks like that,” Jade protested. “There are plenty of books out there that say the same thing. As women, we dissect things too much. We need to just have a good time and go with the flow. My position is that men are like amusement parks. If you don’t like one ride, get off and try another.”
“That’s just nasty.”
“At any rate,” Viola interrupted them, “There might be lots of books about this subject. But they fail to mention one vital fact: A woman has a heart. A man does not.”
“Amen,” Yvette agreed. “No decent woman can play a man’s game. You’d have to be a ruthless, selfish tramp.”
“I disagree,” Jade challenged. “We are just as smart as any male.” She looked at Alexa. “You have to be willing to take a calculated risk. You have to be a strategist to get what you want in life. We all did it for college and for work. So why not apply the same principles to your love life?”
Alexa remained silent as her girlfriends argued amongst themselves. She dared not tell them that she hadn’t stopped thinking about Tristan since that night. She thought about him constantly. She had come incredibly close to accepting his offer. But something held her back. It was pure fear. She was afraid that if she gave herself to him, she’d end up liking him. And she just didn’t know if she could handle that. She looked at each one of her friends. These women were intelligent professionals who’d had their fair share of heartache too. Yvette was married and she was much more cautious when it came to men. Luckily, she had a wonderful husband that she was in love with. She didn’t have to deal with the drama of dating.
Jade was the youngest. She was fearless when it came to dating. She’d dated men who were Black, White, Mexican, Asian, and somewhere in between. For her, an evening out could range from a night at the opera with a brain surgeon to hotdogs at a baseball game with a mechanic. She didn’t limit herself to any one race or class of man. She probably expanded her options by doing that, but like most women, she still didn’t trust men, no matter what their color.
Viola was the most levelheaded of the three. She had been married for fourteen years and widowed for five. She’d been Alexa’s mentor, her boss, her peer and one of her closest friends. She was classy; the type of woman who’d probably never had a one-night stand even in her dreams. If Viola was telling her to go for it, there must be only one conclusion: The woman had lost her damn mind!
Chapter Six
Friday night, Alexa met Greta. She was not what she expected. She’d prepared herself for some middle-aged vixen who secretly preyed on old men and stole thei
r social security checks. Greta was the total opposite. She was a plump, matronly woman with grandkids. She had kind wrinkles, faded blue eyes, and a head of glorious gray hair. Alexa felt a lot more comfortable knowing her Pawpaw had a real life “Mrs. Doubtfire” cooking his meals.
The dinner Greta made was excellent. Alexa had eaten many exotic meals during her travels, but she could honestly say she’d never eaten fried egg cooked over shredded potatoes, roast beef, and cabbage. “It’s called Biksemad,” Greta informed her. “It’s a Scandinavian family recipe that my mother passed down to me. She came to this country through Ellis Island in 1932. All she had was one suitcase and her recipe for Biksemad.”
“It’s very good,” Alexa complimented her.
“Wait until you taste her pickled herring,” Pawpaw interjected. “It’s the best!”
“I guess it beats pickled pigs feet,” Alexa said laughing.
“I’m done with that kind of food,” he promised. “The doctor said all that pork, chitterlings, and butter was the reason for my stroke.”
“Partly the reason,” Alexa corrected him. “Diet alone does not cause strokes. Besides, that was over five years ago. You’ve been eating healthy ever since.”
“And I intend to keep it up – for the most part.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Greta made Hazelnut torte for dessert. You know I always did have a powerful sweet tooth.”
Greta beamed. “Charles just loves my cooking.”
Alexa hadn’t heard anyone call Pawpaw by his given name in years. She watched the looks that passed between him and Greta. They were grinning at each other like two kids with a school-age crush on each other. She truly believed her grandfather deserved happiness, yet she couldn’t help but feel left out when he and Greta made goo-goo eyes at each other. It had been just the two of them for so long. Now, with Greta here, Alexa felt like a third wheel. Her Pawpaw would be seventy-five years old in two weeks. How ironic that he’d only just now found love again so late in his life.
Alexa sighed. Maybe there was hope for her after all.
After dinner, she helped Greta wash dishes. The kitchen was bright and airy. Alexa had helped her grandfather paint it buttercup yellow almost twenty years ago. Back then, she was a brooding teenager, and he’d suggested it as a project to lift her spirits one summer. It did the trick. She’d discovered her inner artist, and her Pawpaw had gotten some cheap labor out of the deal.
“I’ll wash, you dry,” Greta offered.
Alexa watched as Greta went directly to the drawer where the dishtowels were kept and selected towels for each of them. Then she grabbed the dishwashing soap from the cabinet beneath the sink. Most people kept the soap on top of the sink counter, but her Pawpaw did not. One thing was for certain: Greta sure knew her way around this kitchen. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with my grandfather,” Alexa observed.
Greta smiled. “Yes. We like to keep each other company.”
“And not just on Fridays, huh?”
Greta turned on the faucet and let the hot water flow. “You are a very smart lady, Alexa.”
“I’m smart enough to see that my grandfather really likes you.”
“And I adore him,” Greta admitted. “He’s my sjelefrende.”
Alexa looked at her strangely. “Your what?”
“It means “soul mate” in Norwegian,” Greta said, handing her a freshly cleaned, wet plate.
Alexa immediately began drying it. “That’s a beautiful word, Greta. So, you two are soul mates?”
Greta smiled again. “He is mine. I don’t know if he feels the same about me.” She handed Alexa another plate. “I’ve asked him to marry me, but so far he’s refused.”
Alexa nearly dropped the plate she was holding on the floor. She fumbled with it, and at the last second, managed to save it from shattering onto the tile floor. “You asked him to marry you?”
Greta nodded “Yes, I saw no reason not to. I’ve been married three times, and let me tell you, Charles is a better man than all three of those jokers put together. I know what a catch he is. I didn’t want to let that hunk get away.”
Alexa laughed. She had never thought of her grandfather in the same sentence as the word hunk. To her, he was just Pawpaw. “Well, I don’t know how they do things where you come from, Greta. But in America, the man does the proposing.”
Greta clucked her tongue. “Such backward thinking, Alexa. I’m surprised at that coming from you. Anything is possible for the modern day woman, including an offer of marriage. If we waited all day for men to take the initiative, nothing would ever get accomplished.”
Alexa accepted the last plate from her. “What was his reason for refusing you?”
“He said he could never imagine himself getting married again after losing his wife so many years ago. He said if anything happened to me, he would suffer the worst heartbreak and he just couldn’t put himself through that pain again. He doesn’t think he’s strong enough.”
Alexa watched as Greta began washing the dinner glasses. “You can’t take it personal, Greta. Her death was hard on him. I never knew my grandmother, but I know how Pawpaw felt about her.” She gave her a sympathetic smile. “And I see how he looks at you. I can tell he cares very deeply for you.”
“Oh, I completely understand,” Greta said. “Don’t worry, I’m not taking it personal. And I’m not giving up, either.”
“Good for you.”
“Alexa, you’re a doctor. So tell me, is it true what they say about the human heart?”
“What about it?”
“That sometimes a broken one never really heals.”
Alexa nodded in agreement. “It’s certainly not a clinical diagnosis, but I would agree with it.”
“When I was a young girl, I broke my wrist falling out of a tree. The doctor told me not to be afraid to use my hand, even if it hurt. I had to learn to write all over again. And after a few months, I was back to climbing trees. I wasn’t afraid to risk falling again. I think that’s how people should be with their hearts. You can’t be afraid to take a risk.”
Alexa shrugged. “Sometimes pain can cut a heart so deeply that it leaves a scar that never goes away.”
Greta dried her hands and turned them over for Alexa to see. “This scar is the only evidence I have to remind me of that day,” Greta told her. There was a thin white line running across her right wrist from east to west. “It happened so long ago I can’t even remember the pain. I think scars are God’s way of letting us know we’re alive. Scars help us survive.”
“I never thought about it like that,” Alexa confessed.
“If we are so afraid of getting hurt and so worried about taking risks, then we stop truly living. I don’t know about you, but that’s not the kind of life I want. I want to experience every emotion that life has to offer.” She smiled, lightening the mood. “And thanks to your grandfather, I’m now experiencing rejection.”
Alexa smiled back at her. “At least you have a positive outlook.”
“Yes, indeed,” Greta laughed. “A positive outlook and a whole lot of perseverance. I’m gonna get my man. You may not know it, but four is my lucky number!”
Alexa hugged her. “Greta, I think I’m going to like having you in the family.”
* * *
Saturday night, Alexa finally had some free time. Her patient count was dropping, and that was a good thing. Paul had finally been released. And two other patients with minor burns were cleaned up and sent on their way. She felt so good, she celebrated by taking a relaxing bubble bath in her deep spa tub. She wasn’t due back at the hospital until Monday, and she was determined to spend that time being lazy and catching up on her reading.
As she sank into the warm, fragrant water, she felt all her tensions melt away. She closed her eyes and breathed in the steamy vapors. Inevitably, her thoughts turned to Tristan. She expected a call from him any day now. He’d said he’d give her a few days. He’d told her to think it over. Yeah, right. As if she could si
mply turn her feelings on and off like a dripping faucet. Men were all the same. They didn’t realize the complex nature of a woman.
In many ways, she wished she could be like Jade. How easy it would be to satisfy her physical needs without becoming entangled in a dangerous net of emotions. Truly, it would make a life a lot simpler. But she knew she’d only be disillusioning herself. No matter how hard she pretended it was only physical, she would always be searching for more. And what did a woman do when she had multiple partners and her partners had multiple partners? Not only was it scary not knowing who was sleeping with who, but other issues came into play, like STDs. That whole lifestyle was a disaster waiting to happen. She had enough accidental catastrophes in her life. She didn’t need to create more on purpose.
Still, there was one itsy, bitsy, teeny, tiny part of her that wanted to take a chance. She wanted to see what a walk on the wild side was like. And she knew Tristan could provide that for her. Those few moments in his arms had given her enough memories to last an eternity. She’d had a taste of what it was like to be desired and to desire in return. Maybe it was just good old-fashioned lust. She didn’t know. Whatever it was, some part of her secretly wanted more. And if she was going to be hurt anyway, wasn’t it better to be with a man who could rock her world? A man who made her wet just thinking of his kiss? A man who –
Her cell phone, which lay on the floor near the tub, chimed loudly. She wiped her hands on a nearby towel and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Alexa, it’s Greta.”
“Greta, what a pleasant surprise. How are you?” Greta did not respond. In the silence, Alexa could hear her softly crying. “What’s wrong?” Alexa asked.
“He’s gone, Alexa.”
“Who? Who’s gone?”
“Charles.”