Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  Pain flitted through his eyes, so subtle she wondered if she imagined it. “We lost our only child, a daughter, thirty-five years ago in a car accident. The night you came in, everything came rushing back, the mangled body, the frantic voices of people trying to save her, mostly the deadly silence in that cubicle when they failed. I didn’t want to hear that same silence with you.”

  “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “No, don’t be. It was a long time ago. Mag and I have learned to live with the loss. We never forget about Lilly but try to enjoy every day.”

  “Mag?”

  “My wife, Magdalena, a lovely woman.” He flapped a hand in the air. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m a silly old man.”

  "No, no you’re not. You’re a kind man and I’m so happy you come by to see me.”

  "And I’m happy to hear that. Will you think about staying in touch with us?”

  "Yes, I will. Right now, I’m so busy trying to piece together my past, I seldom think about the future.”

  “You’re remembering bits and pieces now?”

  She nodded. “You were right about the car accident. I don’t know the details, but I wasn’t walking when it happened. I hear metal crunch, see glass flying through the air, smell the smoke. Kind of like sensory overload if you know what I mean. There’s no way I’d remember all that if I took a direct hit.” Looking down at her hands, she added. “I’d be dead.”

  “Yes, you would, as would the baby.”

  The room collapsed into complete, absolute stillness while he watched her. Her mouth dropped beneath the gauze and fog climbed up from the river and walked into her brain. How many minutes had passed before she found reality again…and her tongue? "How….?"

  “The ultrasound I ordered last week before I approved another round of X-rays on your pelvis. A small sac can be seen within the uterus now at five weeks.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. A sound—similar to one a rabbit caught in a snare would make—came from her throat.

  “You didn’t know, did you?”

  Head down, she managed a crippled shake of her head. She was expecting a child? Why didn’t the man upstairs beat up on someone else for a while?

  “Do you want me to contact the father?”

  When her chin shot up, her neck went into spasms, and every pore in her face revolted. “No! You can’t. I mean, I don’t know who anyone is. Names, faces, they’re all a blur.” A sob escaped. “The accident wasn’t an act of God, I know that much. Someone…another car pushed me down an embankment.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “With every beat of my terrified heart.”

  “At least allow me to call the police.”

  “Don’t, please don’t. Give me more time. It’s right there, on the fringe. Someone is in danger and I don’t know who.” The dam erupted. She couldn’t stop her shoulders from shaking, couldn’t breathe through the torrent of emotion overwhelming her.

  The mattress sagged beneath his weight when he sat down on the bed and took her hand. “There, there, it’s all right. Please don’t cry. I won’t do anything until you’re ready.”

  She looked up. “Swear it.”

  “I swear I won’t.” He rubbed her hand. “You need to rest now. When you can handle it, I want you to think about the child. That’s a big responsibility to tackle on your own. And I want you to think about coming to live with Mag and me.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t burden the two of you with my problems.”

  “Burden us? Believe me; Mag would be thrilled right down to her toes. She’s already at the ranch getting everything set up.”

  “Ranch?”

  “Yes, a small ranch in South Dakota. We’ve had the property for years, twenty acres, mature trees, a few horses, four dogs, ten barns cats and only a mile from a small town called Hecla.”

  “You make it sound so tranquil.”

  “It is that. Safe too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No one knows you there, not a soul could find you. You don’t have to tell anyone when you leave here where you’re going. They’d never put two and two together since my retirement has been in the works for a year.” He pushed from the bed and stood. “Well, I best get going, let you think about everything we talked about. Take your time; the offer doesn’t have an expiration date.”

  “Thank you Dr. Handler…for everything.”

  “Call me Vin, that’s what everyone ‘round here calls me.”

  “Vin?”

  “Short for Vinny.”

  “Not Vincent?”

  “Nope, just Vinny. You going to be okay?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll stop in tomorrow to see how you’re faring.”

  “Bye.”

  He closed the door behind him and she laid her head on the pillow. A baby? What else could go wrong? What should she do? She didn’t think she knew anything about babies. She didn’t even have a job as far as she knew. Heck, she didn’t have a life. I can’t think about this anymore today, I can’t.

  She closed her eyes. Vin? Why did that name sound familiar?

  Chapter 22

  He who feeds the pig also holds the knife over it when it is fattened

  "Say something, anything."

  "I'm at a loss right now, other than to say thank you, Dr. Dunlap." She took another look in the hand-held mirror. "I mean, I think I'll like her more once the scars fade."

  "And they will with time, Madison. The marks and blemishes you see now are from the surgeries, not the accident. Dr. Handler said you're still struggling with past memories, but if you were to guess, do you think we came close to what you once looked like?"

  She leaned in closer. "The eyes seem right."

  "I'm not taking any bows there. You're eyes were green and they remain that color. I don't think the shape or size changed much, if at all."

  "What did change then?"

  "The nose for sure, and I had to reconstruct the cheekbones. When we do that, the shape of the face is often altered. Where before you might have had an oval face, now you have a heart-shaped face. Part of that has to do with the broken jaw Dr. Handler wired before we could do the cosmetic surgery."

  She looked up from the mirror and into Dr. Handler's eyes. "He didn't stitch your mouth shut, did he? Because if he did," she winked at Dr. Dunlap, "I have a word or two to say about that."

  They both chuckled and then Dr. Handler spoke. "You're beautiful, truly. No concerns in that department."

  "In what department then?"

  "You keep referring to yourself as her. Dr. Dunlap doesn't have the skills to change people internally. Your psyche, your core, as in acerbic wit and remarkable sense of humor, is still there."

  "I wish I could remember what I looked like before."

  "Maybe one day you will."

  "This is a dumb question but do either of you think the color of my hair changed? Cuz one time I read about this woman who had dark hair and when she found out her mother died, it turned ghost white overnight."

  Dr. Handler massaged his chin. "Hmm."

  "Hmm, what?"

  "You just said you read about some woman once. That's another memory surfacing."

  "Yeah, happens often now. They're in there, buried deep but not obliterated." She glanced to Dr. Dunlap. "So what do you think, has my hair always been…dirty blonde?"

  "I prefer dark blonde, not brown, not light enough to be labeled blonde, and yes, that didn't change. No more surgeries, Madison; that's the important thing, right?"

  "Yes, I'm happy about that. You did a great job putting my face back together. Thank you, thank you so much."

  "You're welcome, and now I have to run along and complete my rounds."

  "Ditto," Dr. Handler said. "I hear my name over the loudspeaker and my pager's going off. I'll be back this afternoon though. We'll chat more then."

  When they left the room, Madison held up the mirror again. "Guess we're stuck with one another." />
  ~*~

  She dreamed of elephants, gazelles and birds of every species. After discovering the hummingbird tattoo on her shoulder blade that afternoon―by staging gymnastics in the bathroom with the hand-held mirror and the one over the sink―she understood the bird part, but elephants and gazelles…completely out of left field.

  She also dreamed of cars, cars of every make and model in hot pursuit of something beyond her visual field. They roared by her on the highway, so fast, she felt their speed through the open window. When at last they left her in their dust, she breathed a sigh of relief and checked her rearview mirror. Sheer, stark terror claimed her in the dream. A monster truck gleamed like shiny armor beneath the dazzling rays of the sun. The roar of engines and screaming tires deafened her. The scene played out in slow motion, her, pushing on the gas pedal until cramps seized her leg, the giant, silver truck crawling over her back fender and coming to a final stop on her roof.

  The final sequence of dreams featured the same man she'd dreamed of before, the one slumped against the wall with midnight blue eyes. 'Anything you ask, beautiful girl, anything.' She'd looked over her shoulder. This gorgeous hunk couldn't be speaking to her. 'Yep, I'm talking to you.' "Prove it," she'd said. "Say my name, please say my name, before you fade away like morning mist." That erotic mouth had smiled. 'I'll give you a clue. It isn't Autumn; you don't look like an Autumn, and it isn't Wynter.' He'd rolled his index finger, 'round and 'round as if to say, 'C'mon, think, think.'

  As always, he disappeared and she woke up. And here she was now, lying in bed with only vague morsels to dissect and ponder. 'It isn't Autumn...it isn't Wynter.'

  Summer? No, that doesn't sound right at all. Autumn, winter, summer and fall. Autumn, winter, summer and fall. She gasped. Season! My name is Season! Oh, thank you, thank you so much for helping me remember. She thought about him. He had to be from her past and someone important. After all, he'd pulled off lead actor in her dreams―drool-worthy, thigh-clenching lead actor―and he'd called her beautiful girl. Holy crap, what is his name?

  She didn't want to think about the monster truck, yet had learned in the last week that the overkill of brain activity going on while she slept held keys to her past. She didn't dream about the future or about mundane events of the day, which to her meant, dreams had to be the mind's way of leading one out of darkness and into the light again.

  Talk about frustrating. All the pieces were starting to assemble; begging for completion. She was so close, so close to making a breakthrough, it wouldn't take much to interlock the cardboard cutouts for the final reveal.

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes. One of the aides would be coming through the door in a half hour with lunch. Today she'd eat from the chair next to the window, watch the birds and tell herself she'd be free soon like them…free to walk out the door of this hospital, free to start a new life for her and the baby. Not that she'd come to total grips with the pregnancy or the thought of raising a child. She'd cried for hours and then came to the realization that all the odds had been stacked against them. Someone had wanted her dead and someone had wanted her to live, God maybe, or a guardian angel, a divine being, she didn't know. The child in her womb had miraculously survived. She'd do anything within her power now to see it stayed that way.

  The door squeaked open. Expecting a nurse or an aide with her meal, fear on the heels of panic, smacked her in the face like a hard rain. A man in a suit crossed the room and plunked his thick body into the chair. Malevolence haloed his aura.

  She reached for the cord with the nurse call-button.

  "I wouldn't do that," he said digging out grime from beneath a fingernail. "Relax, gypsy girl, I'm not here to finish the job, but we do need to have a little chat."

  Oh, God, oh, God, breathe Season, breathe. Gypsy girl?

  "I keep asking myself the same question over and over, how the hell did you live through that?" He shook his head. "It would be so much easier if you hadn't." When he looked up and into her eyes, his cold-blooded gaze severed her down the middle like a knife. "But, it is what it is and killing you now presents complications I can't afford to take." Pushing from the chair, he rose and advanced toward the bed. "Here are the unbendable, inflexible rules. Break them, and everything and anything you didn't lose, you will."

  She wanted to launch herself from the bed, claw his ruthless, beady eyes out. The baby, think of the baby.

  He tossed something onto the tray. "Rule number one: You will disappear. Everything you need to remain Madison Ames is in that manila envelope―birth record, social security card, passport, assorted fake utility bills, and cold, hard cash. Christ, if I had the money I'd squandered on disposing of you, I could retire to the Bahamas.

  Rule number two: You will forget your past as if it never existed. That means no contact with friends and family." A sleazy laugh spewed from his throat. "They think you're dead, and a phone call or show-up-at-their-doorstep surprise might be the end of them…especially your beloved grandfather."

  Grandfather…beloved grandfather? Come on, you're right there on the fringe of my brain. Expose yourself. The image marched forth, an elderly man with salt and pepper hair, tattooed hands and the most compassionate eyes she'd ever looked upon. 'Burn your enemies caravan and you burn you future.' Duna! A shudder tore through her, not from fear for herself, but from fear for the one person who meant the world to her.

  "If he doesn't keel over from a heart attack, I can make arrangements for him to meet up with an unfortunate accident. This time, I won't leave a survivor." Tugging on the edge of his shiny vest, he continued. "That brings us to rule number three: Stay away from Rann, not for a year, not for five, but forever."

  The man in her dreams, the man of the forest…the lying snake.

  She schooled her face to drop all expression. "Why?"

  Satan's laughter filled the room. "Why…why? You're the other side of the coin, baby, from the wrong side of the tracks. Mama's boy has been groomed for years to take over the family business one day. She wanted the land, all right, but not at the cost of her grandchildren having Romani blood running through their veins. With you out of the way, she can have her son back and the land."

  Pine Bay…Terra Care Development.

  "Any other questions? If not, tell me you understand."

  "I understand."

  "Good, don't make the mistake of thinking I've gone soft. Too many people in this godforsaken disease pit have seen me, could recognize me. Killing you raises questions I don't want tracked back to me, your loving uncle. But I'm a resourceful bastard, and I'll find a way of putting you in the earth permanently if you as much as think about twisting the rules." He tilted his head. "Wish I could have seen what you looked like before…before the accident, I mean. I saw you after I climbed down that embankment and peered through what once was a window." His body gave a little shake. "Ugly. We're talking nasty, down and dirty ugly. Whoever worked on that land-mined face deserves a medical Pulitzer, if there is such a thing."

  The driver of the silver SUV. Martin the lapdog.

  "Wish I could stay for lunch but, truthfully, I hate the smell of this place. Reminds me of maggots and death." He wrapped his knuckles on the tray. "You take care, sweetheart, ya hear?"

  When the door closed behind him, her mind fell into an anesthetized state. She couldn't, just couldn't process what had happened or his hate-filled threats. Not now anyway.

  Chapter 23

  A gypsy only tells the truth once in his life but he regrets it afterwards.

  Kelli came through the door with lunch, her smile fading with every step. "Madison, what's wrong, what happened?"

  "Huh? Oh, another nightmare. I fell asleep after breakfast and they rolled in again."

  "You never mentioned nightmares." Suspicion rode the crest of her irises. "Your uncle passed the nursing station five minutes ago. Did he say something to upset you?"

  "No! I mean we talked about the monumental hospital bill, discussed how we were going to pay it.
That upset me, I guess."

  "But it's paid in full. The Benedictine nuns covered it until he stepped forward and paid off the balance. Why would you talk about a bill that doesn't exist?"

  Damn, wrong answer.

  "Madison, are you listening to me?"

  "Yes, sorry, I must have been sleep-drugged when he came in and got mixed up. I know we discussed the bill and now that you reminded me, he did say everything's been taken care of."

  She placed the plate and silver-domed lid onto the tray with a sideways glance. "I know he's your uncle and all but why do I break out in goose bumps every time I see him?"

  "You have seen him before then?"

  "Yes, twice. On both occasions he hounded me to let him into your room. You were under heavy sedation and Dr. Handler left a strict No Visitors order. The Doc wanted to speak to you first, and under the circumstances of how you came to us, I can't say I blame him."

  She forced a smile. "Well, it all turned out good. What's for lunch?"

  "Grilled salmon, mashed potatoes and green beans." She removed the lid. "Rumor has it, you're being discharged in the morning. I should be happy for you but frankly, I'm worried. Are you going to live with him for a time?"

  "No." Had she answered too fast? "I'm going to get a little studio somewhere and then look for a job."

  "In Des Moines?"

  "I don't think so. Might head west…Colorado, Montana or even California. Far, far away from here. My grandmother always said, 'If there comes a time in your life when you need to start anew, throw caution to the wind and let 'er rip."

  "Hmm…your grandmother still alive?"

  "No, it's just me, my uncle and a few scattered cousins." She looked down at the food. "Wow, this looks fantastic, thank you."

  "No problem."

  "For everything, Kelli. You've taken such good care of me and I'll miss you."

  "I'll miss you too, Madison."

  She picked up her spoon, loaded it with potatoes and gave Kelli an eyebrow wiggle, hopefully a hint their conversation had ended.