Forever Young: Blessing or Curse (Always Young Trilogy)

by Morgan Mandel

  The reporter shook his head. “What a horrible loss for you. I certainly hope that someday your looks can again reflect the Angel Man you are. Thank you for reliving your painful experience with us, Mr. Remington. I, as well as all of your faithful followers, wish you a speedy recovery and a fast return to your former self. We’ll pray this vixen is apprehended and receives her just and lawful punishment.”

  A male voice interrupted Dorrie’s fixation with the television screen.

  “Miss, Miss, I called your number twice. Your food’s getting cold. Don’t you want it?”

  Nothing like drawing attention to herself. Where were her brains? Nodding, Dorrie stumbled up to the counter, where, off to the side, another television blared. Had the clerk been watching?

  “Sorry, I drove all night and I’m half asleep. Thanks.”

  “No problem,” he said, handing over the breakfast platter and milk.

  She was about to turn away when he said, “Say, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  Heart hammering, she said, “No, I don’t think so, but I get that all the time. People always think I look like someone they know.”

  He nodded in seeming satisfaction with her answer, and turned to help another customer.

  It wouldn’t do to look conspicuous by bolting out the door, so she forced herself to sit down again and try to eat. From time to time, she glanced at the clerk to make sure he wasn’t staring at her or picking up the phone to call the police. Apparently, he hadn’t made the connection. She tried to relax, but the enormity of Roman’s betrayal overwhelmed her, making her eyes sting. She’d feared he’d have second thoughts, but never dreamt he’d go this far.

  Her appetite had vanished, but with shaky hands and pounding heart she forced the eggs, ham, English muffin and milk down. With the plate finally cleared, Dorrie grabbed her purse and lumbered out of the restaurant.

  Once inside her car, she swallowed hard to keep the food from rising back up. She still couldn’t believe Roman had turned on her like that, after going to such lengths to defend her from the gnome. It didn’t make sense.

  Then it dawned on her. Somehow his generous act had backfired. The gnome had struck back, exacting revenge in the most hurtful way possible, by damaging what Roman prized most, his pride-and-joy looks. Knowing Roman, he’d do anything to get them back. The gnome would hold them over his head, tantalizing him with the possibility of regaining the loss. Poor Roman. If it weren’t for his heroic gesture, he’d still be the Angel Man, living the high life, instead of wallowing in misery.

  No matter how much she sympathized with him, she daren’t waste time obsessing over his problem when she had her own to deal with. Before, she’d only been concerned about whether the gnome or Roman would follow her. Now the scope had widened. Unbelievable as it seemed, she, who’d never so much as gotten a parking ticket, was now on the lam, hunted like a common criminal. At first glance, her disguise might seem foolproof, but a discerning eye could see through it, especially if that person glimpsed her car and plates.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  She’d try Keith again. Though he lived miles away, maybe he’d offer a solution. Dorrie grabbed her cell phone from under the seat, checked the contact list for the number, then dialed Keith from the cash paid, no-frills phone she’d bought at Wal-Mart. The phone rang four times. She expected it to go into voice mail again, but at the last second, Keith answered.

  “Keith, it’s me, Dorrie.”

  “I hope you’re somewhere safe. I was pulled in on an emergency project at Chicago Chem right after we spoke. I was there all night, and just got home a little while ago.”

  “So you haven’t watched TV, or listened to the radio?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Then you don’t know the latest. Hang onto your shoelaces. You won’t believe this. I’m a wanted woman.”

  “Come off it, Dorrie. Is that for real?”

  “It sounds implausible, but believe me, what I’m about to tell you is gospel.”

  When she was through filling him in, he sighed. “I’ll take your word for it, Dorrie. I don’t know this Roman guy from Adam, but you, I’ve known almost forever. By the way, you don’t have GPS or or any other location services on, do you? If so, turn them off immediately. Damn, I just thought of something else. The police will check the phone records and see if you called me.”

  “No fear. I’ve considered all that. I’m using a handy-dandy, no frills phone.”

  “At any rate, they might decide to stake out my place, so you better not come here. Let’s see. There has to be an out somewhere. Let me think.”

  The side door of the restaurant flew open. Someone emerged, carrying a trash bag and headed for the bin. About to pass the car, he stopped and did a double take. It didn’t take a genius to read his lips, which formed, “It’s you.”

  Wouldn’t you know it was the same clerk who’d waited on her. He’d seen the bulletins, now her car, and was making the connection. Her mind froze. What should she do?

  She dropped the cell onto the seat. “I’ve got to go,” she yelled, not knowing if Keith heard her.

  Heart hammering, Dorrie backed out and gunned the motor. What a dumb thing to do, making the call from there. She’d practically asked to get caught. She wasn’t operating on full gear or she’d never have stayed in this lot after watching the accounts on television.

  As she drove, the snow began to fall. A sign for a police station ahead made her heart drop. She passed a grammar school, some fast food restaurants, a hospital and a church, before landing before a huge sculpture marking the entrance to Buffalo Park.

  She followed Gemini Drive to the parking area, where other vehicles were clustered. Their presence would be a blessing, forming a shield from prying eyes. Also, the flurries would obscure her plates and the car’s color.

  Feeling somewhat safe, she picked up the phone and called Keith back. He had to be worried about the abrupt ending to their call. “Sorry about that. Someone spotted my car so I had to get out before the cops came. Good grief, I can’t believe I said that. This is so insane. Did you come up with any ideas?”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  Half an hour later, her safe cell rang. “Okay, I’m on a different cell. Steve wants to help and we’ve come up with a plan. He’s been watching a cottage for his friends in Portage and will be glad to pick you up and take you there, where you can stay until the owners come back. It’s far enough from Tomahawk to be safe, plus it’s not connected to any of our names. Will that work for you?”

  At this point, she didn’t have a choice. Brushing aside her embarrassment at the prospect of staying with Steve, she agreed to the plan.

  “Where are you now?”

  ”I’m in Flagstaff, at Buffalo Park. He can meet me by the buffalo at the main entrance. Since it’s a popular spot, I won’t stick out in the crowd.”

  “Good. He’ll fly to Phoenix, take a cab, get dropped off, and pay cash to rent a car. Then he’ll buy something at a dealer and pick you up.”

  “He’s not buying a car because of me, is he?”

  “Don’t worry. He’s been kicking around the idea of getting a van, so this’ll give him an excuse to break down.”

  “But his bank card, can’t someone trace it?”

  “He’s out of the radar for now. By the time someone thinks of him, the van will be registered in Tomahawk. Also, he’ll be staying at his own house off and on. He can do most transactions online and the rest in Tomahawk. Since you won’t be at his house, no one should be the wiser.”

  “Wow, you’ve really thought this through.”

  “Steve deserves the credit. You know what a movie buff he is, and how he loves figuring out espionage stuff. For him, this is elementary. All right then, I’ll call him, and we’ll get this show on the road.”

  “Wait, a minute, if for any reason I’m not there, have him meet me at St. Adelbert Church’s parking lot, a few miles from Buffalo Park.”

  “Sure, an
d I’ll give him your new number so he can reach you at your safe cell.”

  “Oh, one more thing. Could you have him pick up a red wig? I haven’t tried that color yet.”

  Keith chuckled. “Nor purple or blue.”

  A laugh escaped her as her mind flashed back to young Stephanie of the unique fashion statement waiting outside the principal’s office.

  “Glad you still have a sense of humor,” Keith said.

  “That’s about all I have left.”

  “Take care, my friend, I’ll say a prayer for you.”

  “Thanks, I need it.”

  ***

  After their conversation, Dorrie made a visit to the rest room. Afterward, for fear of being spotted, she barely glanced at the snow covered Ponderosa pines and San Francisco Peaks in the background, as she retreated to her car. She comforted herself with the thought of the many pine trees she’d see in Portage, Wisconsin.

  Other vehicles came and went, parking in the spaces near her, and depositing their smiling sightseers, some carrying skis and poles. Intent on enjoying themselves, they shot passing glances in her direction before going about their pleasures. She wished she could be as carefree.

  To kill time, she turned on the radio, but flicked it off fast after hearing a bulletin about the ingrate on the lam. She didn’t need reminders of her situation.

  Embarrassment filled her at the false reports propagated, depicting her as an evil, mean person. Coupled with the first embarrassment was another. She’d rejected Steve before, yet now was forced to rely on his generosity.

  If he hadn’t volunteered his help, she’d never have imposed on him. Given their past relationship, they were bound to feel awkward, especially in such close confines. Sure, she’d seen him at a few gatherings, plus Larry’s and Mike’s funerals, but they’d never been alone with each other for any length of time since back when she’d turned him down. She still felt guilty about hurting him, but had had no choice.

  The years had flown by and Steve remained single, like his brother. Hopefully, it wasn’t her fault he’d not found love. Such a great guy deserved happiness.

  A sudden urge forced her mind off Steve. She must get to the rest room stat. As she stumbled across the slippery path, the pressure built. As soon as she got to the stall, a torrent of water gushed out.

  No! Not now!

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Her water bag had broken. How much time did she have? Oh, sweet baby, you couldn’t wait a little longer, could you? Dear God, now what should I do?

  She dare not try to deliver the baby herself. Her child deserved every opportunity to come into the world whole, even if the mother ended up behind bars as a result.

  I’ve got to think.

  She had a little cash, also an insurance card from the Institute. No, the card was not an option. It might raise a red flag and lead the police or the gnome to her. She better offer an assumed name and say she had no insurance or ID with her, and only a little cash.

  Dorrie took out the five hundred she’d gotten from the ATM, then put her smartphone and insurance card under the car seat. They were dead giveaways and no use to her anyway. She’d take the debit and credit cards with for safekeeping, though their use at this point would be dangerous.

  She remembered passing a hospital on the way to the park, so she’d head in that direction. As she drove, more contractions hit. Afraid to drive straight to the ER, where someone might spot her car, she parked half a block away. It wouldn’t be easy to walk, but she’d manage. She had to.

  Dorrie switched off her phone, stepped from the Hyundai, and immediately doubled over. She’d known labor would hurt, but not this bad. The contraction stopped, but another came before she got much further. Clutching her abdomen, she inched forward.

  The cold temperature didn’t stop the sweat from dripping into her eyes and down her back. She trudged on, careful to keep her balance over the gathering snow banks. Under normal circumstances, the half block trek wouldn’t take five minutes, but instead it seemed a decade.

  With every step, the pain worsened. Would she make it there on time?

  It won’t be long, baby. Please wait.

  The sidewalk tilted. Her vision blurred. Fortunately, the letters of the Emergency Room sign grew larger. Energized by the sight, she stumbled the remaining few feet and swung at the revolving door. Warm air enveloped her, yet she shivered.

  A woman holding a bandaged arm next to her chest stood before the registration window. She turned, and taking note of Dorrie’s condition, stepped back. “You better go first.”

  Dorrie could barely whisper thanks before a horrific pain struck. Clutching her stomach tightly, she lurched up to the window. “Please, help me, my baby’s coming.”

  The woman looked up from behind the desk. “Do you have any insurance?”

  “No, but I have some cash. Please, I’ll pay you back.”

  “Not to fear. We’re prepared for such contingencies. Here are the forms. You’ll need to fill them all out and sign them,” the woman said, shoving a clipboard, paper and pen onto Dorrie’s side of the window.

  Another contraction hit Dorrie, harsher than before. How could she think at a time like this? What name should she give? She had to put something down. No, she didn’t have time.

  “My name’s Laurie DeLuca. The baby’s coming now. I’ll have to do the papers later,” she gasped, doubling over.

  The woman from in back of Dorrie yelled, “My Lord, can’t you see what’s happening? What are you waiting for? Help this lady right now before she loses her baby and sues you for negligence.”

  A wheelchair magically appeared. An orderly hoisted Dorrie upon it and whisked her down the hall to an operating room. The moment she’d both hoped for and dreaded had arrived, but she had no energy to be afraid. She only wanted it over.

  In the operating room, someone moaned loudly. Was that her? Apparently so, because the man in blue scrubs bent over her and said, “Sorry, but it’s too late for an epidural. Hang in there. It’ll be over soon.”

  He turned to a nearby nurse. “Hand me the scissors. She needs a mediolateral incision before she tears.”

  Dorrie gasped as cold steel cut into the sensitive area.

  “Okay, Miss, now push down as hard as you can. Again, and harder. You can do it. It won’t be long now,” the doctor said.

  Tears flowed down Dorrie’s cheeks as the excruciating pain heightened.

  “You’re doing great, Laurie. Don’t give up. Come on, push more. Any minute and you’ll be done. The baby’s already crowning and I can see the head. You’re almost there. Come on, one more push. Make it big.”

  With her last ounce of strength, Dorrie bore down. Tremendous pain engulfed her, as she felt a huge wet mass slide from inside of her and onto the table, along with a gush of goo. A tiny wail followed.

  It took a moment for the sound to register. When it did, her heart tripped. My God, she’d done it. She’d given birth. Tears of relief flowed down her face, followed by shivers, as the full implications of the moment hit. Was her baby okay? If not, would the hospital provide care?

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Everything happened in a blur. The umbilical cord was cut, the baby taken away, Dorrie was cleaned and the table wiped down. An African-American nurse gave Dorrie a sweet smile and placed a warm blanket over her. “There you go. Now hang on. We’re going for a little ride.”

  The surgical table with Dorrie atop it traveled down a bright corridor to a huge elevator, which stopped three floors up. Sounds of infants bawling clued her in on where she’d landed, even before she saw the Maternity Ward sign.

  “Lots of babies being born lately, but you’re in luck. There’s one small room empty. The best thing about it is it’s private,” the nurse said, wheeling Dorrie into a room down the hall, a few doors from the exit sign. A slight boned, Hispanic sounding nurse joined them there and helped the first nurse transfer Dorrie onto the hospital bed. That done, the emergency room nurse left.
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br />   Before Dorrie could get her bearings, the Maternity Ward nurse said, “This might hurt, but in the long run it will do you good. I need to massage your uterus to get you back into shape and prevent hemorrhaging.”

  Dorrie stifled a scream as the woman bore down on her, pressing into the already tender area. For such a small person, she owned a strong grip. After concluding the torture, the nurse checked Dorrie’s vital signs, brought a pitcher of water and left.

  Unfortunately, the nurse returned to inflict more massaging pain, making the pressure grow in Dorrie’s bladder. “Please, can I go to the bathroom?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have a bedpan?”

  “No. Please, I’d like to walk.”

  The nurse skeptically nodded, but helped Dorrie up.

  Oh my, God. Dorrie had thought she’d felt bad before, but as she limped along leaning on the nurse’s arm, pain of the worst kind hit her. Not only that, a gush of blood filled her pad and trickled down her leg.

  “I’m afraid I’m leaking.”

  “Not to worry. It happens all the time. We’ll get you cleaned up afterward,” the nurse assured her.

  After Dorrie had accomplished her mission, the nurse left her in peace, which again proved to be shortlived. More hideous massaging continued. She tried to catch her breath, while her head swam. How much more could she handle? And where was the baby? Should it be taking this long?

  She had to find out how her child was, even if the answer sent her over the edge.

  After the next massage, she asked, “Please, how is my baby doing?”

  “We should know pretty soon. It usually takes an hour or so to complete the tests. ”

  It seemed forever before the nurse finally appeared, this time smiling and holding a pink swathed bundle. “Here you are, my dear, and congratulations. You’ve given birth to a darling little girl with all ten fingers, ten toes and a cute little tuff of lovely blond hair. The doctor says the preliminary tests look normal, in fact better than average. Others will follow later. Have you decided on a name for her, or is it too soon?”