Book Read Free

Relatively Crazy

Page 22

by Ellen Dye


  “Why?” Val asked.

  “He walked out on me this morning. At the precise moment the Son of a Poodle arrived.”

  Val gave a wave. “Not important. He’ll be back.”

  “Well, yeah. But not back.” I drew the last word out.

  “He’s been head-over-heels in love with you since we were little kids.”

  “And just when did you figure that one out?”

  “The very first time I knew for sure?”

  I nodded.

  “That would have to be that summer we discovered the joy of Harlequin Romances. I knew he was a total goner for you when he built that tree house so you could read them without your mama harping on you.”

  Olivia’s words came back to haunt me once again. Jeeze. Why was I doomed to always be the very last one to know?

  Val continued. “He’s one of the rare good guys, Wanda Jo. He’ll be back, and then you two can work it out.”

  “I’m not too sure I really want to,” I said, surprising myself.

  Because really, what was the difference? This morning Sam had jumped in, ready to run my life just as Reed had done. Did I really want to go back to that?

  Both Val and Mitzi were staring, mouths hung open.

  “Seriously. I mean if he was always so crazy about me, shouldn’t he have trusted me enough to give me two seconds to explain that I had no idea why Reed was even here?”

  “After last night?” Val asked, brow raised.

  I felt the color rising in my cheeks. “Especially after last night. Honestly, shouldn’t trust come in here somewhere?”

  “No. No. No.” Val shook her head. “Not even part of the equation. Take last night, add to it the ex popping up, and you have a simple case of testosterone poisoning.” Val nodded sagely, tapping an index finger against her chin. “And possibly an accompanying Ego Deflation. Very painful, I understand. But he’ll come around soon.”

  I sighed at Val’s logic, feeling more baffled than ever.

  Mitzi joined in, smoothing the waters. “I agree. Any threat to a male always results in pee-pee-related behavior. And, from what I’ve seen when that most precious of all their organs is involved, they pretty much act the way Sam did this morning. But they get over it.”

  “You know, this sounds suspiciously like the two of you are encouraging me down the relationship path. Why?” I asked. “I don’t see either of you being in a hurry to pair up.”

  Val shrugged. “It seems like what you want. And Sam is one heck of a good guy.” She paused. “Are you saying you want to chuck it all and be a Bird?”

  Mitzi chimed in before I could answer. “It’s cool if you want to be alone. I hate to admit this, but I’ve had some boyfriend or husband taking center stage in my life since puberty. It was like I had to have a man there to save me. But the weird thing is, it was always me doing the saving, the smoothing everything out, the actual taking care of everything.” She grinned broadly. “And I’ve got to say I’m loving every minute of being on my own.”

  “Amen. I know I’m loving my freedom. And I’m not so sure I’d ever want to give it up again. If you decide that’s what you want, we’re behind you.” Val squeezed my hand. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

  “Well, what’s it going to be?” Val nudged.

  “I honestly don’t know.” I paused, and then full clarity came to me. “But I do know one thing. I don’t want to have to be saved ever again.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Val said, and Mitzi added, “Independence, it’s the only way to go.”

  “Oh!” Mitzi exclaimed, reaching for her tote bag. “I almost forgot. These arrived yesterday.”

  She removed the empty éclair plate and plopped a box on the center of the table.

  Val and I leaned closer as she removed the lid and passed each of us a small white card.

  “This is brilliant,” I exclaimed as I carefully examined the white card stock with Hairdresser Hattie perched saucily atop the “B” of Be Headed, which was written in royal purple script. A warm glow of pride surged through my body as I continued to stare.

  And then it all stopped.

  In a split second the warm glow was replaced by ice-cold fear as I read the second line toward the bottom.

  Wanda Jo Ashton, Owner.

  I gulped. Hard.

  “And here’s some more big news.” Mitzi produced a single sheet of white paper. “State Board schedule. Luck is riding with us, ladies. You two can sit for the exam the day following refresher graduation. Less than a week.” She indicated a typewritten line.

  “Great!” Val exclaimed.

  “Shit,” I groaned.

  Val shot me a look. “You’ll do fine.”

  I squeaked.

  “Don’t you dare start whacking out on me now, girlfriend. You’ve got plenty of time to study.” She stood, making ready to go. “And failing that, don’t forget your quarter.”

  I laughed while Mitzi looked baffled.

  “It’s for checking your answers on the True or False section,” I partially clarified.

  Mitzi looked toward Val. “Another of Hairdresser Hattie’s adventures?”

  “More like a test-taking concept. I’ll explain later,” Val answered with a grin.

  After a quick round of hugs, they were heading out the door. Val draped an arm across Mitzi’s shoulders. “See, there was this blonde sitting next to Hairdresser Hattie at State Board, flipping a quarter…” Her voice trailed off as they made their way down the drive.

  “I get it!” Mitzi exclaimed as they reached Val’s truck. “I love that woman.”

  “Hey Wanda Jo,” Val hollered. “He’ll call. And if he doesn’t, call him.”

  I grinned, gave a small wave and ducked back inside my cozy cottage.

  In only a few minutes I’d washed up our coffee mugs and wiped down the table, marveling at the quiet peace of the woods surrounding the cottage. And, surprisingly enough, the quiet seemed almost too quiet tonight.

  Val’s words ran through my mind. Maybe she was right. Maybe I should give Sam a call. Maybe I should take the time to explain about Reed’s visit, and—

  The thought ceased abruptly with the shrill ring of the telephone.

  Score another for Val.

  I moved slowly toward the phone, trying to get my thoughts in order but not quite accomplishing the task.

  I settled for a deep breath. “Hello,” I answered, fully expecting to hear Sam’s deep drawl on the other end.

  “This is the emergency room at City Hospital calling,” the dry, mechanical voice said.

  That last breath left my body in a rush as I rapidly grabbed the essentials and rushed out the door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Accident. Fire. Burns. Diner. Each word exploded in my thoughts, the next detonating before the last syllable of its predecessor burned out. Jamie Sue, what have you done?

  I screeched into the nearest available parking space and slammed the gearshift into Park. Seconds later, only my keys in my hand, I was sprinting toward the sliding glass door beneath the large lighted sign reading Emergency Room Entrance.

  The automatic door whooshed open with a well-oiled sigh, emitting a puff of sterilized, slightly antiseptic-smelling air, and I ran headlong into a solid wall of dark brown cotton.

  The cotton issued a large grunt, and I took a hasty half-step back and followed my line of vision upward.

  The seriously wrinkled brown cotton work shirt had been buttoned crookedly and covered slightly hunched shoulders. Following upward, I noticed pale skin, a mouth pressed into a flesh-colored slash, and two exceptionally bloodshot brown eyes. His hair stood on end in straight brown spikes as though he’d spent the better part of an hour raking his fingers through it—which he probably had.

  “Oh, thank God. You’re here.” Ray grabbed my upper arms. “She won’t let me in. She won’t let me see her.”

  “Calm down,” I suggested, gently prying his fingers from my arms.<
br />
  “I am calm!” Ray screamed.

  Right.

  Ray began to pace in a tight circle before me. “I heard the news come over the scanner as I was getting ready to work the late shift.” He abruptly stopped pacing. “They said it was real bad.”

  “They, who?” I asked, my chest tightening.

  “Fire department. One of the firemen called the kitchen a lost cause.”

  “Jamie Sue?”

  Ray’s color dropped a shade. “I don’t know. But I think they got her out in time.”

  I forced in a breath. Anything except my cousin was replaceable.

  Ray continued, “I got down here as soon as I could. But she won’t let me in.”

  I made a mental note to slap my cousin up side her head—once she’d been returned to full health, mind you—the next time she turned down a date opportunity with this man.

  “She says family only,” Ray huffed as he returned to pacing.

  I gave his arm a hasty pat before he turned. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  I turned toward the desk as Ray began to babble about the unfairness of hospital policies in the face of true love.

  Yep, I was definitely going to see to it that my romantically shortsighted cousin looked straight at Mr. Ray Osgood.

  The desk appeared deserted, but there was an old-fashioned, half circle bell sitting on the counter. After a quick peek around I raised my hand.

  “Don’t.”

  My hand froze a mere inch from the bell as I looked toward the voice.

  She could best be described as a mountain covered in white. White zippered-front polyester dress, white hose, and meticulously polished, blindingly white, tied-up shoes. Her iron-gray hair was scraped back from her wide forehead into a bun, on which rested a stiffly starched nurse’s cap.

  Bifocals, with a no-nonsense chain attached, rested partially down the bridge of her exceptionally long, straight nose, over which she regarded me with steely gray eyes.

  “May I help you?” she asked in a tone suggesting she’d rather be doing anything but.

  I pulled myself up to my unimpressive five feet two inches of height. “Yes. I’m here for Jamie Sue Donald.”

  “And you are a legitimate family member?” she asked, shooting a scathing glance at Ray, who was still pacing in tight circles.

  “Blood relative,” I replied, hoping she wouldn’t ask for verification. Something told me she would enjoy the process much too much.

  Her gaze critically examined me over the bifocals from the liberal paint streaks in my hair down to my well-scuffed sneakers.

  “Clearly,” she sniffed.

  I self-consciously brushed a dusting of bathroom cleanser from the front of my shirt.

  “Well, then.” Nurse Uptight straightened. “Follow,” she commanded, executing an impressive about-face.

  I took a step to follow, and Ray grabbed my arm.

  “Relax. Everything will be fine. Why don’t you get a cup of coffee?”

  His bloodshot eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to grasp the concept.

  “Decaf,” I clarified.

  I turned and hurriedly followed the rapidly retreating figure of Nurse Uptight through the waiting room—unadorned white walls, floor of gray-flecked tiles that had been waxed and buffed to a sterile sheen. Black, vinyl-covered chairs linked together in long rows dominated the room’s center. The only color in the room came from a few well-worn, discarded magazines littering the small tables attached at irregular intervals to the chairs.

  The sheer emptiness of the room startled me. Where was the rest of the family? Had they not been notified? And if not, why had I been chosen above her own mother and father?

  Given our relationship history, it simply didn’t make sense.

  Nurse Uptight sharply turned right, and I scrambled to follow her down the long center corridor of the emergency room. Must have been a quiet night, I thought as we passed nearly a dozen alcoves featuring empty beds surrounded by heavy curtains pushed back against the walls.

  Abruptly Nurse Uptight stopped at the only pair of curtains that had been drawn for privacy. She briskly tugged a panel aside and suggested I should enter with a sharp jerk of her chin.

  “Former Army, right?”

  She gave a curt nod. “Colonel. Full bird.”

  “Bet they miss you.”

  “Took a thousand men to replace me.”

  I believed it.

  “Doctor will be by to sign your release papers shortly,” Nurse/Colonel Uptight barked toward the bed before executing a smart turn and departing as briskly as she’d arrived.

  And then I was alone with Jamie Sue, who was currently sitting on the center of the bed, her legs crossed Indian style. She was covered from head to toe in greasy black soot. Liberal streaks of it were laced through her light brown hair. The whites of her eyes stood out in vivid relief within the soot covering her face, broken only by tracks showing she’d obviously been crying. Both her hands were heavily bandaged, mitten style, and rested palms upward on her thighs.

  My heart melted in sympathy as I took a step toward her.

  “What in the hell happened to you?” she barked, her voice hoarse.

  Sympathy packed a quick bag and departed, leaving no forwarding address.

  “Well, you know how I just love to be different,” I paused, gesturing toward the yellow and green paint streaks in my hair. “And besides, it looks like you took all the black for yourself.”

  Jamie Sue opened her mouth to retort, but no sound came out. And then, to my great surprise, she burst into tears.

  I grabbed the box of tissues resting on the small table next to the bed and settled by Jamie Sue. I held my tongue, and my questions, and kept passing the tissues until Jamie Sue had cried herself down to intermittent hiccups.

  “Did you call the family? Did you tell them what happened?” she finally asked.

  “No. How could I? I don’t even know what happened.”

  “Good.”

  I allowed a few seconds to pass before asking, “Do you think you could fill me in?”

  “There was a fire. I was there.”

  “Yeah. I kind of figured out that part.”

  Jamie Sue nodded but remained stubbornly silent.

  “A fire at the diner?” I prompted, and Jamie Sue merely nodded, her eyes taking on a glassy appearance. “Are they giving you something for the pain?”

  Jamie Sue fumbled with a small prescription bottle in her lap. I picked it up and quickly read the label. Wow. “How many have you had, honey?”

  “None.”

  Shit. Briefly I considered tossing down a couple myself. I had a feeling I was going to need them if this conversation continued much longer.

  Instead I drew in a long, cleansing breath and exhaled through my nose. “Tell me what happened. Slowly. And don’t skip anything.”

  “Oh, Wanda Jo…” Jamie Sue paused, fresh tears cutting new tracks down her still soot-covered cheeks. “It’s really bad.”

  I draped an arm across her shoulders, heedless of the soot. “Honey, you’re sitting up. You’re breathing. Nothing’s broken, right?”

  Her head tilted slightly to the right. She blinked twice. Slowly.

  “The nurse said the doctor would be coming by to sign your release papers,” I reminded, but Jamie Sue remained silent. “Surely they wouldn’t release you if they didn’t feel you were all right. Nothing else matters.”

  After a prolonged silence, I asked, “How badly are you hurt?”

  Jamie Sue bowed her head, silent tears flowing freely from beneath her closed lids. Seconds ticked by with the weight of hours. Finally she turned toward me. “It’s just minor burns. Probably I’ll have a few scars.” She lifted her bandaged hands.

  “Okay. Got that. Is there anything else wrong with you?”

  She shook her head slowly.

  I let a sigh of relief escape. “Then that’s all that matters. So long as you’re okay, nothing else is important.”


  “You just don’t understand, Wanda Jo. Everything’s not okay. Everything is ruined. Completely.” She began to sob silently, and I helplessly rubbed her back.

  Of all Jamie Sue’s peculiar traits and quirks, I’d never known vanity to be among the lot. But who knew…

  “Honey, a few scars really aren’t so bad. You could have been hurt much worse. You could have had serious internal injuries, smoke inhalation…” I trailed off as she sobbed even harder.

  “You know,” I started again, “Ray’s out in the waiting area, pacing grooves in the floor tiles. He was frantic when I arrived. I know he really cares for you. A few scars won’t change that.”

  She stopped sobbing. “Ray? He’s here?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered. “How did he find out?”

  “Scanner. Or at least that’s what he told me.”

  “Oh. Are you sure Daddy doesn’t know?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. I’m sure he, and everyone else, would be here if he did. How did the fire start?”

  “The range. I was trying to fix it.”

  Ah. Well, this certainly wasn’t the time to reintroduce the concept of calling a properly trained repairman. Or to say, “I told you so.”

  “How bad is it?” I asked instead.

  “The kitchen’s pretty much destroyed. I don’t know about the dining room. The firemen pulled me out.”

  And probably a darned good thing, too. Knowing my cousin, I was fairly sure she’d been trying to beat the flames out with her bare hands.

  “Okay. So the range caught fire—”

  Jamie Sue grabbed my arm. “You can’t tell Daddy. Promise me!”

  I groaned. “Don’t you think he’s going to find out when he opens in the morning?” I bit back a scream. “He’s going to notice something’s a little funny when he tries to turn on the range and there’s nothing there except a pile of twisted metal.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  The curtain parted, and a nice-looking man wearing a crisp white coat over light green surgical scrubs stepped through.

  He held a chart in one hand and extended the other to me. “I’m Dr. Bushnell.”

  He regarded the chart for a moment and then looked toward Jamie Sue. “Now that your cousin has arrived, Miss Donald, I think you’re fine to go home. Take it easy for the next few days. Use the painkillers if you need them.”

 

‹ Prev