Double Jeopardy

by Bobby Hutchinson

  Would the time come when she, too, decided that she needed to make a nest, Sera wondered. Biological clocks were becoming a cliché. Cliché or not, hers was ticking rapidly toward thirty.

  Maisie knew for a fact she wasn’t good at marriage, but Sera had never even tried it. To think about marriage you probably had to fall into love so totally fears were no longer a consideration. Well, she hadn’t come anywhere close to that. Maybe she needed to take a long, hard look at herself.

  Gemma had placed the hand mirror on the stand beside the bed, and for the third time in an hour, she picked it up and scrutinized her bruised and swollen face. At least the featureless mess she’d had before the operation was gone.

  It was good to be out of the hospital, although staying here in her parents’ house was a challenge. They were so sweet to her, but she was too accustomed to living on her own to really relax much. Having the packing out of her nostrils and being able to breathe without the trach tube were heaven, though. Funny how a person’s idea of pleasure could change. Before the accident partying and shopping for clothes had been tops on her fun list.

  Now pleasure meant watching the swelling on her face go down. Or, once her jaw healed, opening her mouth again.

  God, this was so pathetic. She needed to get her life back.

  “The mail arrived. Here’s a letter for you.” Maria came into the bedroom that Gemma and Sera had shared as children and handed her a white business-size envelope. The address was neatly typed.

  It was probably a bill, although how would anyone know she was here and not at her apartment?

  “You want something to drink, cara?"

  Maria had visited a health-food store and bought protein shakes and vitamins, which she mixed in a blender and insisted Gemma drink.

  “You’re skin and bone,” Maria fussed. “It’s not healthy to lose so much weight so fast. You’ve got to take in more calories. I’ll go and fix you something.”

  Gemma carefully shook her head, but arguing with your mother when you couldn’t talk was hard.

  Maria hurried out, and a moment later Gemma heard the blender whining. Could a person actually gain weight with her jaw wired? Because if it was humanly possible, Maria, with her concoctions, would make sure it happened. Her mother made her crazy. Everyone made her crazy these days.

  Irritably, Gemma tore open the envelope, unfolded the single sheet and scanned the typewritten words:

  Beautiful Gemma,

  You burn like fire in my heart,

  But don’t know who I am.

  Although I long to be your love,

  I long to be your man.

  I pause to think of you each day

  I dream of you each night,

  I close my eyes and there you are,

  My joy, my hope, my light.

  She read it through carefully, then read it once more. It was unsigned. She checked the envelope, but there was no return address, only the postmark.

  It had been mailed in Vancouver the previous day. Beautiful Gemma. What kind of joke was that? And who would be so cruel? She read the simple words yet again, and for the first time since the accident, she felt the rush that came with knowing someone was attracted to her.

  The poem wasn’t a joke at all. Somebody was actually writing her love poetry. No one in her entire life had done that before.

  She jumped up from the bed to show Maria, but at the door she changed her mind.

  This was private. This was a secret she could cherish, something to read over and over during the long nights when the demons haunted her. She didn’t want anyone else looking at it.

  `Someone loved her, and she didn’t even care that he hadn’t signed his name to the declaration. It was enough that he’d written his feelings down.

  She’d have enough opportunity later to speculate on who it was. Right now, the sentiment was all she needed. It made her feel like her old self, and that was a gift beyond value.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The filming was finished by noon on Saturday, and afterward Sera drove home and had a sandwich. She was about to call Ben about paint samples when her cell phone rang.

  “Sera?”

  She recognized his voice immediately.

  “It’s Ben. I know this is awfully short notice, but I wondered if you’d like to come to a barbecue this afternoon with my friends. Greg Brulotte and his wife, Lily, just called. They’re having a few people over. I’ve mentioned you to them and they want to meet you.”

  Sera hesitated. The prospect of seeing Ben again was appealing, but being thrown into a group of strangers wasn’t the way she’d prefer to do it.

  “It’ll be very casual, and I have to warn you my godson Stanley will be present.”

  “Grendel, too?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay, thank you, then I’ll come.”

  “I knew that dog would earn his keep one of these days.”

  She laughed. “I was about to call you, actually. I wanted you to look at some paint samples.”

  “You pick out the paint, I’ll say yes to whatever you choose.”

  “Here we go again.” He’d been ridiculously grateful for the chairs she’d chosen for the office. Had sent her a bouquet of daisies and a funny thank-you card.

  “What if you don’t like the colors?”

  “I will. I guarantee it. You’re a genius at this stuff.”

  “Okay, but I still think you should check them out.”

  “Please, please don’t make me.”

  She reluctantly agreed, and smiled when his voice took on an exuberant note as soon as they weren’t talking about paint. “I’ll come for you at five. Just give me the address.”

  She did.

  She found her color samples, chose the shades for his loft in ten minutes, then spent the next hour frantically trying to figure out what to wear. She wished she had time to race out and buy a new dress. She wished she was the sort of woman who had manicures and pedicures regularly.

  She finally decided on a simple yellow cotton sundress with green daisies on it; it reminded her of the flowers Ben had sent. She painted her toenails and, using a cut lemon, got the worst of the paint stains off her hands.

  He was ten minutes early and she was running late when the buzzer sounded.

  She released the downstairs lock and quickly shoved her feet into bare sandals. She was giving her riotous curls a hasty finger comb when the doorbell rang.

  “Hi.” She knew she sounded breathless. “Come in. You can look at these colors while I get my handbag.”

  “Do I have to?” He was wearing a white polo shirt that emphasized his bronzed skin, and khaki shorts. His legs, she saw, were strong, well shaped and attractively hairy.

  He gave the paint samples a cursory glance.

  “These are great.” Then he tossed them on the small table by the door. “This is a nice place,” he commented, gazing around at the plants and colorful cushions and cheap prints she’d used to make the rented apartment her own.

  “Look around. I’ll just be a minute.” She raced into the bedroom and snatched up her straw bag.

  “Bring a swimsuit. They have a pool,” Ben called just when she thought she had everything. She swore under her breath and ransacked a drawer, hunting for her old navy tank suit. Why hadn’t she bought a new one this summer?

  With a breezy smile and an attempt at tranquility she was far from feeling, she hurried out to where he was waiting. He’d moved to the windows that overlooked Lost Lagoon and Stanley Park. “Great view.”

  “Nothing like yours, but it’s okay. It’s the reason I rented this. I like being able to see the trees and the water.”

  “Me, too.” But he was gazing at her instead of the view. “You’re beautiful, Sera.”

  She grimaced at him and crossed her eyes. “Your sight’s failing.”

  He laughed. “Not with my glasses on it isn’t.” Catching her off guard, he bent toward her and kissed her briefly.

  Her Ups ting
led and she felt a telltale blush come over her face. “Let’s go.” Being alone with him was far too tempting.

  “Okay. I can’t wait for you to meet my godson.” He glanced at her dress. “That is washable, isn’t it? I’ve learned never to go near Stanley in clothes that aren’t washable. In fact, I’ve often thought Greg oughta issue hospital scrubs to whoever walks in his front door.”

  He took her hand and held it all the way down in the elevator. His truck was parked right out front in a No Parking zone.

  “Hey, I didn’t get a ticket.” His surprise told Sera he usually did.

  “I thought you’d be the hot sports car type,” she teased. Then added, “I'm green with envy. I always wanted a truck this color.”

  “I get ribbed about it all the time. I guess purple’s funny for a truck.”

  “It’s not purple. It’s eggplant.”

  “Eggplant? Eggplant. Yuck. No wonder the guys have been giving me a bad time.” His expression had her giggling. Grendel spied her just then and went into a frenzy of barking.

  Sera waved at him through the tiny back window. “Can I say hello to him before we leave?”

  Ben obligingly opened the door, undid the dog’s safety harness and allowed him to leap out. Grendel licked Sera’s hands and wound himself around her legs ecstatically.

  “Okay, enough, you lovesick idiot. You’re gonna get hair all over Sera’s dress. You can drool at her through the back window.”

  Still nervous about meeting Ben’s friends, Sera asked questions as soon as they drove off.

  “Greg Brulotte’s a doctor?”

  “ER surgeon at St. Joe’s. And Lily’s an emergency room nurse. They met on the job. She’s pregnant with their second baby.”

  The ride wasn’t long. The Brulotte family lived in Point Gray, one of the more exclusive areas in Vancouver. Sera remembered Ben’s telling her that the impressive waterfront house with the circular drive had been his, and she admired it with that in mind.

  No other cars were in the driveway.

  “Are you sure we’re not too early, Ben?”

  He shook his head. “Greg and Lily asked us to come early. They want to get to know you before the others arrive.”

  As Ben rang the doorbell, she wondered again what she was getting into.

  Grendel hung back.

  “He’s learned to be cautious around Stanley,” Ben had time to say before a totally naked small boy opened the door and flung himself at Ben, wrapping first his arms and then his legs around him and trying to shinny up his body as if Ben were a climbing pole.

  “Uncle Ben, I knew it was you. I saw you through the window.” He had violet blue eyes and a thick head of unruly blond hair, but it was his animation that drew Sera’s attention. His energy and exuberance shone around him like a bright light.

  Ben grunted and steadied himself against the doorsill. Stanley was exceptionally tall and husky for three.

  “Hey, tiger, what’s going on? Where are your clothes?’ ’

  “Well, actually, I just had a poop upstairs,” he confided. He spoke with a slight lisp, and his huge eyes danced with mischief.

  The expression of horror on Ben’s face was genuine this time. “You did wipe afterward, didn’t you, sport?”

  Stanley gazed up at Ben, face angelic, smile devilish. “Nope, I came to ask you for help. See, I was sleeping and it woke me up, the poop.”

  “Oh, ssshh-oot. Where’s your—” Ben’s desperate question was cut short.

  “Stanley Brulotte, you little imp.” A tall woman with dramatically short silver blond hair and amazing green eyes hurried to the door.

  “Ben, come in, if you can even move with that lump hanging on you.” She smiled at Sera. “I’ve given up apologizing for my son. Please do come in. You must be Sera. I’m Lily.” She wiped a wet hand on her maternity sundress before extending it to Sera and warmly shaking her hand. Sera liked her immediately.

  Lily Brulotte was both beautiful and hugely pregnant. She took her son’s hands and, with some difficulty, peeled him off Ben. “Say hello to Ms. Cardano, you exhibitionist, and then go upstairs and tell Daddy to find you some clothes.”

  “Hi, Stanley. You can call me Sera.” She smiled at the little boy. She loved kids, and this one was obviously unusual. He gave her a shy grin and a long, considering look, then turned to his mother. “I’ll go scare Daddy. Okay, Mommy?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Stanley charged off, and Lily gestured down a sunny hallway. “I’m just finishing the salads. Let’s go in the kitchen. You can cut up potatoes for me, Ben. Greg will be down as soon as he wrestles that kid into some clothes.”

  They walked down a hall that was a minefield of abandoned toys. The family style kitchen lay at the back of the house, its patio doors opening wide to a cedar deck equipped with a child’s wading pool and even more brightly colored toys. Below the deck, Sera glimpsed a large swimming pool, and beyond that stretched the inlet, sparkling in the afternoon sunshine.

  “Sera, sit down here so we can get acquainted.” Lily was tearing lettuce into a huge wooden bowl.

  “Why don’t I peel these potatoes, and Ben can chop them.” Sera was at home in a busy kitchen; she’d grown up helping with the huge Sunday meals her mother and aunts took turns preparing.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.” Lily gave her a thankful smile and handed Sera a knife. “Ben tells me you’re a set designer for a sitcom taped here in Vancouver. He also said you chose those scrumptious new chairs in his office. All his friends and patients are grateful to you for that.”

  Sera shot Ben a glance, curious what else he might have said about her. All she could see was the top of his head, bent diligently over the potatoes.

  The sound of small feet pounding down the stairs and along the hall announced the reappearance of Stanley. He raced into the kitchen, then stopped abruptly and struggled hard until he’d succeeded in pulling down the madras shorts he wore.

  “Look, Uncle Ben, I gots big boy underwear now, just like you wear.” He turned a full circle, stumbling over the shorts around his ankles. His chubby face was wreathed in smiles, and his small bottom was encased in bright red Calvins.

  It was all Sera could do not to laugh, but she took her cue from Ben. Without a trace of a smile, he studied the small boy and nodded solemnly.

  “You really are a big fella, tiger. Now you and I have matching underwear.”

  Sera caught his eye and couldn’t resist winking suggestively.

  A tall, handsome man with curly dark hair and deep-set brown eyes followed Stanley into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Sera, welcome.” He was warm and charming. “I’m Greg, the father of this miniature male stripper.” He took Sera’s hand in his for a moment and gave her a wide smile, then helped his son pull his shorts back up. Then he went over to his wife, casually pressed a kiss on the back of her neck and ruffled her hair. “How’s it goin’, sweetheart? What can I do?”

  The way he touched her, the tender note in his voice, telegraphed his devotion to her.

  “You can rinse the strawberries and then use your surgical skills at cutting them up for the shortcake.” Lily smiled at him, and here, too, love was palpable.

  Their visible affection for each other set the tone in this household, Sera concluded as the afternoon wore on. There was much laughter and bantering as everyone helped prepare for the party, and by the time other guests began to arrive, Sera felt accepted and totally at ease.

  Two other couples came, both as friendly and outgoing as Greg and Lily. As Sera got to know them, she realized they were connected in various ways with St. Joseph’s hospital.

  Lily’s brother, Kaleb Sullivan, was a fireman, married to Frannie, a social worker at the hospital. They had a two-year-old named Harry and an older girl, Zoe, whom Sera learned was Kaleb’s from a previous marriage. Zoe was extraordinarily lovely, with feather soft hair and huge eyes.

  Thea and Wade Keenan were the parents of Marshall, a h
usky, serious five year old, and adorable five month old twins, Della and Frank. Sera admired them and silently thought how lucky they were not to be identical. She didn’t say anything about being a twin herself, and she noted that Ben didn’t mention it, either.

  Wade, who’d been severely injured in a motorcycle accident, was a counselor with a private practice, but he also worked with patients at St. Joe’s who’d sustained spinal-cord injuries. He walked with a cane and had a pronounced limp, and he told Sera that Ben had done an incredible job of repairing his hands and his face.

  “My sister was in an accident recently. Her face was badly injured,” Sera heard herself saying. “Ben operated on her. She looks so much better already.”

  “Don’t reinforce the fact that he’s a genius. It takes us weeks to get him back to normal afterward,” Greg joked.

  It was almost impossible for Sera to believe that Wade’s wife, Thea, had produced three children and was still breast-feeding twins; she was incredibly slim and strikingly lovely. Not surprisingly, she’d been a fashion model. She cheerfully announced that she was taking time off from her career to raise her kids. “And once they’re ready for school, I’ll be too old to do much modeling, even if I get Ben to remove all the loose skin on my face and belly,” she laughed. “So I’m going to set up my own agency. I’m doing courses in business admin at night school.”

  Sera found these people intriguing. All the women were dynamic, each pursuing careers while juggling the demands of young children.

  Sera couldn’t help but contrast their get togethers with Cardano gatherings, where the women and children segregated in one area and the men in another, and the brunt of the child care and all the cooking falling to the women.

  These men, on the other hand, shared equally in the household chores, from supervising the toddlers to helping with dinner. They obviously enjoyed doing so. To witness equality in action was refreshing for her.