His conscience battled with the wanting in him. Conscience told him this girl was young, part of his life for just a couple of weeks, and could easily have her heart broken by some charming physical therapy patient. But the wanting in him argued she was adorable, unspoiled, amusing, and desirable. Further, there was no doubt her kiss was sweeter than a pound of powdered sugar sprinkled over a dozen donuts!
“You ready for some lunch, Mr. Booker?” Christine asked as she wheeled the lunch cart into his room.
“Yep,” he said, smiling at her and removing the deck of cards from his food tray.
Oh, he was ready for some lunch all right. He needed to satisfy at least one of his appetites.
CHAPTER THREE
It was the third Saturday of the month, and as always, Sayler looked forward to it. Every third Saturday, Sayler spent the evening at the Center dancing around and being just plain fun and silly with the children staying there. The children at the Center were there for various reasons—some were seriously ill, some had been injured and were there for extended physical therapy. Whatever their reasons for being there, it was the children and the elderly who tugged at Sayler’s heart. Therefore, for nearly a year Sayler had committed one of her Saturday nights a month to bringing a little laughter and cheer into their lives.
She had started out just trying to entertain the kids. However, she had soon discovered the elderly patients were highly entertained in simply watching the children have fun. Once she had found it worked to cheer both factions, she was even more motivated in her pursuits.
Games, treats, and music seemed to be the right prescription. Sayler nearly wore herself out smiling and being joyful. Often Monica or Christian or both would come on the third Saturday and help. It was a lot of work and emotionally and physically draining, but the smiles on the children’s faces, as well as those of the elderly patients, made it all worthwhile.
This Saturday night, however, Sayler felt she was distracted. As she laughed and played with the children and talked with the elderly patients, her mind kept wandering to Bo Booker’s room. She was anxious to see him. After all, he’d made her commit to dropping in on him, and she couldn’t wait. She found herself glancing at the clock, wishing time would pass more quickly so she could be with him. She knew he would be leaving the Center soon, and every moment with him was becoming more and more precious to her.
“It’s almost eight, Sayler,” Tommy Sprigs said, tapping her on the shoulder. “Can we do our Saturday night dance now?”
Sayler turned to Tommy, smiling at him as she caressed his tender cheek with the back of her hand. He was using his prosthetic arm quite capably now, and a colorful smile had returned to his face.
“You bet, Tommy,” she said. “Okay, everybody! Listen now,” she began raising the volume of her voice. “What song should we dance to tonight?”
She laughed when the children instantly began calling out old song titles. The available music in the Center’s small recreation room was limited, much of it older, more vintage. But Sayler loved it, and so did the children. Still, with all the suggestions, there came one song title that seemed to be the majority favorite almost every time.
“Am I hearing you guys correctly?” Sayler giggled. “Is it…‘Da Doo Ron Ron’?” The children cheered. Sayler hopped to her feet and went to the sound system controls. “Which version?”
“There’s only one worth hearing!” the children giggled in unison. Early on, Sayler had taught the children little catch phrases of her own design. She found it made things more fun and unified the kids at the same time.
“And which one is that?” she asked.
“Shaun Cassidy’s!” the children giggled in unison again.
“And who’s Shaun Cassidy?” she asked. The children were excited, already dancing in place even though the music had yet to begin.
“Some guy we don’t know!” they giggled.
“What is it about this song, guys?” She giggled as she inserted the CD.
“We love it!” the children cheered, clapping their hands.
As the music started, Sayler put the CD player on repeat, turned up the volume, and started clapping hands.
“I met her on Monday and my heart stood still,” Sayler sang.
She pointed to the children, and they sang, “Da doo ron ron ron, da doo ron ron!” giggling and wiggling with delight.
“Somebody told me that her name was Jill,” Sayler continued, letting her head bob side to side in time with the music.
“Da doo ron ron ron, da doo ron ron!” the children sang, smiles beaming from their faces.
Bo Booker stood just outside the recreation room at Rawlins Rehabilitation Center. A broad smile on his face, he watched, enthralled as the little candy striper entertained the children. He had been watching her from afar for quite some time, amazed at her patience and understanding of the diverse group of kids. He glanced around at the elderly people littering the room in wheelchairs or supporting themselves with walkers. They too smiled, happier and more carefree because of Sayler’s presence.
“All right, now,” Sayler called out, placing her hands on her hips. “Bum sway!” Bo chuckled as every child in the room, and even some of the elderly folks able to stand without assistance, mimicked Sayler, placing their hands on their hips and swinging their hips back and forth in unison.
“Clap your hands!” she called. She kept rhythm with her hips as she raised her hands over her head and began clapping too.
“Yeah! She caught my eye! Yeah! My oh my!” Sayler sang in unison with music and everyone else in the room. “And when I walked her home…”
“Da doo ron ron ron, da doo ron ron!” the children squealed.
Bo couldn’t help the chuckles escaping his throat as the joy of the moment washed over onto him too. He watched the children interacting with the elderly people, watched Sayler showering them all with happiness, helping them to forget their cares for a few moments. In the next instant, he was astonished as he felt excess moisture gathering in his eyes.
“Oh my heck!” Sayler said as the song began to fade out. “Ladies, Shaun is leaving us! What should we do?”
Bo laughed as every female in the room, old and young, raised their hands in the air and simultaneously called, “We love you, Shaun! One more time! Please?”
Instantly, the song began again, all the women in the room squealing like adolescent girls at some teen idol concert. Realizing Sayler must have set the CD to repeat, Bo laughed and clapped his hands once, amused at the girl’s resourcefulness.
“She’s something else, isn’t she?”
Bo looked over to see an older gentleman standing next to him. His hair was completely white. He wore a suit and a broad smile as he too watched the scene before him.
“She sure is,” Bo agreed. “They don’t seem to have a care in the world.”
“Yep,” the older gentleman said. “She’s got a way with making folks feel that way.”
“I’m Bo Booker,” Bo said, offering a hand to the man.
“Miles Rawlins,” the man said, shaking Bo’s hand firmly.
“Oh!” Bo exclaimed as realization hit him. “Sayler’s grandfather. Not to mention the proprietor of this fine facility.”
The man chuckled and approvingly nodded at Bo. “It’s a good man who recognizes the grandfather part is more important than the business part.”
“Well, that’s the order of importance to my way of thinking,” Bo told him, looking back to see Sayler dancing with a little girl who had no hair. “She’s completely…completely…” Bo stammered as he watched her.
“Effervescent,” Miles finished, chuckling himself as he watched the goings-on.
“Yeah. That’s it exactly,” Bo said.
“She’s a tough little cookie too. Takes a lot of flak from the other staff members for being my granddaughter,” Miles said.
“Sure does. I’ve actually been witness to that a time or two,” Bo said. He was sort of surprised at himself
for revealing such information. But he kept thinking of the two stinky nurses always giving Sayler a hard time. Secretly, he hoped his verification of their bad treatment of her would sway her grandfather to pay a little more attention to it.
“Really?” Miles asked, a frown puckering his brow. “That wouldn’t happen to be Nurse Hoffman and Nurse Brandy, would it?”
“The very same,” Bo affirmed, unable to tear his gaze away from the pretty girl swinging her hips in unison with an elderly, white-haired woman’s.
Miles sighed and frowned but seemed to quickly change the subject. “How are you finding your stay at our facility, Mr. Booker?” Miles asked.
Bo forced himself to look at the man then. Good manners demanded it, after all.
“It’s a great place,” he said. “You’ve got great amenities, great food, good staff for the most part. My room is really comfortable, and everything is on time and well organized.”
“I should have you write up our ad for the yellow pages,” Miles chuckled.
Bo smiled and said, “I really mean it, sir. It’s a great place. I think your Saturday nights alone are worth the stay.”
Miles smiled. “She only comes every third one. I wish she had more time,” he said. “But then again, I guess it wouldn’t be as special.”
“Probably not,” Bo agreed.
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Booker,” Miles said, shaking Bo’s hand again. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I can’t resist it all a moment longer,” he said, chuckling as he stepped into the recreation area.
Bo nodded and stepped back, glad Sayler had not seen him as she’d looked up to her grandfather.
“Come on, Grandpa!” she giggled. “It’s your favorite…Shaun Cassidy!”
Bo laughed as two children took hold of Mr. Rawlins’s hands, pulling him into a circle of dancing geriatric and pediatric patients.
With one last glance and smile at Sayler, Bo turned and headed back to his room. It was a unique person who could get the elderly and the very, very young to be so completely comfortable in each other’s company. He knew Sayler was a very unique person indeed.
“Well, I picked her up at seven and she looked so fine,” Bo sang quietly as he walked down the quiet corridor of the physical therapy wing.
He chuckled as he heard the far-off echo of children’s voices suddenly raised in a repeat of, “Da doo ron ron ron, da doo ron ron!”
Once he was back in his room, he felt tired and weakened as he sat down on his bed. His legs were definitely stronger, yet he worried about the destabilized sensations he still experienced. His room seemed cold, lifeless, lacking the light and happiness of the recreation area. Sayler had promised she would visit him, but his mood was gloomy, knowing she would probably be too worn out to deal with him. No doubt she expended a great deal of energy ensuring everyone’s happiness for the evening.
He felt oddly dejected, sort of pouty as he picked up the novel he had been reading and tried to concentrate on it. He would much rather be watching the little candy striper dance around with a bunch of kids in the other wing of the building.
“Someday soon I’m gonna make her mine,” he sang under his breath as he attempted to read. The perky song still echoed in his mind. Smiling as a vision of Sayler lingered in his mind, he chuckled and added, “Da doo ron ron ron, da doo ron ron.”
*
“Mr. Booker?” Sayler whispered, stepping quietly into the room.
“That would be Bo to you, Sayler,” he said, putting his book down as he looked up at her.
Sayler smiled, walked to him, and handed him the envelope the front desk nurse had handed her. “Someone left this at the front desk for you. I guess they forgot to bring it in to you. It looked sort of important, so I—”
Bo opened the envelope and looked at the contents. His head dropped forward as he frowned and grumbled, “Man! I thought I’d be off the hook this year.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Sayler said, feeling responsible for his disappointment. After all, she had delivered the envelope to him.
“It’s not your fault,” Bo said, studying at what appeared to be a fancy invitation he was withdrawing from the envelope. “I just…this thing is just…it’s just a challenge for me, even when I haven’t just had my legs broken.”
“Well, I just popped in to check on you and say hi. But I’ll leave you to your misery then, I guess,” Sayler said, taking a step backward. She didn’t want to leave him. She had looked forward to seeing him all day. Even with the fun she’d just had with patients in the recreation room, she had been anxious to finish and get to Bo Booker’s room. Still, it was obvious he was disturbed by the contents of the envelope. He looked tired too, and she knew she shouldn’t bother him.
“It’s the Bennett Ball,” he said, stalling her retreat. “It’s a charity dinner and dance thing, a fundraiser for the Children’s Cancer Hospital. They have it every summer—you know, to raise money for the hospital.”
“Sounds like a good thing,” Sayler said, uncertain as to why he seemed so upset.
“It’s a good cause,” he began, “but as far as the actual event…it kind of stresses me out. You know?”
“Which part?” Sayler asked, delighted to be involved in any sort of conversation with him. “The dinner, the dance, or giving the money?”
Bo raised his eyebrows and said, “The food is actually pretty good. It should be for fifteen hundred a plate. And the cause is more than worthy of contribution. It’s the social stuff—the date, the tux, the dancing. You know what I mean?”
“Kind of like a bad prom experience,” Sayler said, hoping he would find humor in her response. Her heart pinched at the thought of him in a tux and dancing with a date.
“Exactly,” he chuckled, smiling at her. Sayler smiled too, delighted in her ability to amuse him. “It’s like a bad prom thing.”
“Well, then, just approach it that way,” Sayler said. “Enjoy the dinner, try not to spill pasta sauce on your tux, don’t take an actual date, and only dance with the hot girls.” He chuckled for a moment, but his expression quickly fell to a frown once more.
“It still stresses me out,” he said. Sayler knew he was frustrated with being trapped in the Center, with the monotony of it, the therapy. Further, she knew the weakened state of his legs unnerved him. He was a man used to power and strength, and the weakness worried him. He still didn’t seem to believe the strength in his legs was returning.
“Why don’t you walk around the Center a bit more? Even the room,” Sayler suggested. “You must be tired of being in bed so much. Do you normally go to bed this early?”
“No,” he answered. “Just since the accident. There’s never anything else to do.”
“Well, I think you should get up for a while,” Sayler said. “We just had a blast in the rec room, and everything’s all settled down. You could go down to the vending machines for a candy bar.”
“You’re right,” he said, throwing his bedding aside and standing up. Sayler was grateful he wore a white T-shirt as a companion to his cartoon-character pajama bottoms. It always terribly unnerved her when he paraded around without a shirt. “I’ll get up for a while I guess. But that still doesn’t solve my Bennett Ball problem,” he said.
“Well, let’s just get your mind off it, shall we?” Sayler said. One wall of the room was lined with shelves and housed a sound system. Sayler walked to it and started fiddling with the knobs. “Maybe a little music will make you feel better about everything.”
“You won’t find anything good over there,” he said, plopping down on the bed again. “It’s all old retro stuff. Must’ve been an elderly person in here before me.” He looked rather like a little boy pouting, and Sayler smiled, delighted with his boyish appearance.
“You just don’t know how to look,” Sayler said, going to the CD player and shuffling through the disks sitting on top of it. “Here!” she exclaimed, choosing a CD and slipping it into the disk unit. “Something soothing�
�not too taxing. I’m kind of tired all of a sudden,” she said.
Turning up the volume, she sang, “Oooh, la la laaa laaa,” as a slow, smooth song began.
“What’s this?” Bo grumbled.
“Oh my heck!” Sayler exclaimed. “You have got to be kidding me!” Shaking her head, she smiled and slowly swayed in time to the music as she made her way across the room to him. “‘Ooh Baby Baby’? By Linda Ronstadt, of course. Her rendition is way better than even Smokey Robinson’s was.” Closing her eyes and putting a hand over her heart, she sang along with the song’s chorus, “Ooh baby, baby…ooh baby, baby.”
When the chorus finished, she opened her eyes as the song played on to see Bo smiling at her. “You know this song? It’s ancient,” he chuckled.
“It’s fabulous!” Sayler stated. She continued to sway as the song continued. “It’s so…so…so…mmmm!” He chuckled as she reached out and took his hands in hers. “Come on,” she told him. “You can do it. That big fancy dinner dance thing will be easy enough. They probably play all sorts of slow music, right?” She still suspected half of his anxiety concerning the event was because of all the women who would expect him to dance with them. She felt sorry for him, sympathy for his fears concerning the still-weakened condition of his legs.
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Ooh baby, baby….ooh baby, baby,” she sang as the smooth saxophone solo in the song began. She tugged on his hands and succeeded in coaxing him to stand with her.
“Then all you have to do is that dumb back-and-forth, back-and-forth thing guys do…like this,” she said. She put her left hand on his shoulder, put her right hand in his left, and raised them to dance position. She began shifting her weight from one foot to the other, swaying back and forth, back and forth in time to the music. “I assume you went to high school.”
Daydreams Page 4