Love Overdue

by Pamela Morsi

  “Get off that train,” Amos answered. “There is crap in life that we can’t control. You can keep hashing over the past ad infinitum, but it’s never going to change. It happened. It’s over. We’re moving on.”

  Scott hesitated on the other end of the line.

  “Isn’t this the pep talk I’m always giving to you,” he said.

  “Yeah, it is, as a matter of fact. And I’d say it’s high time that you took some of your own advice.”

  “I will, if you will.”

  “I am,” Amos answered. “I drove Jeannie home last night. We’d finished up and she invited me in for a beer.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “We didn’t stop square in the middle of the road, like some people I know. But I still managed to get a pretty nice kiss.”

  “My God. There is actually hope for you. Gotta hang up now. I need to call Suzy and get her to spread the news.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Amos said.

  “How about you bribe me not to,” Scott suggested.

  “O... kay,” Amos replied hesitantly.

  “Could you show up at the library tomorrow to help James and I take down the shelving units?”

  “Sure thing,” he answered. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “We need all the hands we can get.”

  “Then you really should talk to Suzy,” Amos said. “She’ll get the word out faster than paid advertising.”

  Scott was hopeful. But he didn’t have time to talk to Suzy yet. He arrived at the hospital, parked his car, grabbed D.J.’s handbag and carried it awkwardly at his side until he realized how much easier it was to sling it over his shoulder. He made a quick inquiry at the information desk, managed to find his way to her room.

  She looked pale against the pillows and still seemed a bit groggy, but smiled when she saw him.

  “Hello, you,” she said.

  He wanted to kiss her, but wasn’t sure. Finally he settled on a peck on the forehead.

  “You’re looking happier,” he said. “How do you feel?”

  “A lot better than this morning,” she answered. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “For what?”

  “Rescuing me from the snake,” she said.

  “I believe the snake ran away on its own. And it was probably more scared of Dew than it was of me,” he said. “And as for driving you to the clinic, the way you were hollering, I don’t think I could have waited for an ambulance to show up.”

  “You did stop to get me the medicine.”

  Scott nodded. “Just wait until you get the bill. That anti-venom is seriously not cheap.”

  “So there’s nothing to thank you for?”

  “Well, I did bring your purse,” he said, indicating the bag he was wearing.

  “I thought it might be mine, but it looks good on you, as well,” she teased.

  Scott struck a pose, his brow feigning indecision. “I’m not sure it’s the right color for this outfit.”

  She managed a little laugh then. He loved the sound of it.

  Forty-Five

  South Padre Island (Eight years earlier)

  She lay beside him. Speechless beyond sated. His arms held her tightly, as if he’d never let her go. She had wanted to find out what it was like, what sex was all about. She’d expected, hoped for, some fireworks. She had not anticipated having her whole world tilt sideways.

  “I’m so greedy for you,” he told her. “But I don’t want this night to end.”

  She was exhausted. There was absolutely no way she could do any more. But she wasn’t willing to let it go, either. It was just this one night, just this small piece of time out of time where she could pretend for a few hours that she was not the odd, unhappy girl, the socially stunted introvert, the unwanted and undated.

  “Tired,” was the only word she managed to get out.

  “It’s okay. You just rest. Sleep if you like, don’t mind me.

  Slowly he kissed his way down the length of her torso. When his tongue began to niggle the sensitive, intimate flesh she gained a surprising surge of new energy.

  It was almost too much. She almost couldn’t bear it.

  But then she could. And then it was not enough. She had to have more. She wanted him inside of her again.

  To make that happen, she tried doing unto him what he was doing to her. His response was positive.

  “Oh, you are so damn good, incredibly damn good.”

  She loved the praise. She loved the power. But she also loved it when he shifted her on her side and spooned up behind her. It went on and on, long and slow, better and better. She wouldn’t have believed that she could come again. But she did and it washed through her hot and silky, sinking into the deepest most hidden crevices of her longing. The struggling, the striving to connect with another person, now locked her into a state of bliss, of absolute fulfillment. They were a man and a woman, bonded together. A unit of home that she had sought all her life.

  “I love you,” she told him.

  Forty-Six

  822.6 English Drama

  Two full days of heavy pain medication had made D.J.’s brain very fuzzy. It had also given her far more dreams than she wanted to deal with. The creepy, crawly things and soup bowls full of spiders were bad enough. But she also had other dreams, where the fair-haired hero in blue boxer shorts was using his tongue on her as the ocean roared in the background. It was wonderful, incredible, magical. And then inevitably she would move her foot, the pain would shoot through her leg and she’d awaken, not with a sweet smile of satisfaction, but with the grimace of reality.

  And if the drugs weren’t bad enough, the lights and sounds of the hospital messed up her perception of time. Yes, the sun came through the windows and, yes, they turned off more lights at night, but waking and sleeping occurred so sporadically that she had a hard time keeping up with whether it was 10:00 a.m. or 5:00 p.m. Early evening or four in the morning?

  She decided that was why patients kept their televisions on all the time. It gave them a solid, if mind-numbing, reference to the outside world.

  Fortunately D.J. was lucky enough to have other references. The phone beside her rang surprisingly often for a newcomer to the neighborhood. Mostly the calls were from library patrons, concerned over her ordeal and offering well wishes for her quick recovery. There were also daily updates from Viv on the very busy life of her dog. Dew was apparently settling in nicely downstairs, although Viv assured her that he missed D.J. horribly.

  “Mr. Dewey will notice that your car is in the driveway,” she said. “And then he’ll skip up the stairs and peer into the door as if he’s trying to figure out where you are and why you haven’t come for him.”

  D.J. smiled. “I’m sure that with all the attention that he gets from you, Dew is probably happier than he’s ever been. I always hated leaving him alone all day.”

  “He enjoys the novelty of wandering through my life,” Viv said. “But his first loyalty is to you and I don’t want you to worry about that one little bit.”

  In all honestly, D.J. could admit to herself that she didn’t. Dew was getting along great with Viv. It was wonderful the way they had bonded. And she loved the idea of the two of them wandering around Verdant, although she did suspect that Viv was not as vigilant about keeping him crated while driving around in the purple Mini. She forgave her for that.

  Other calls were more formal. As if it were an expected courtesy to telephone the librarian in the hospital. Helen Rossiter assured her that “everyone speaks highly” of the hospital. And Claire Gleason told her that a few days of rest in the summer was a boon to the “thirtysomething complexion.”

  “I’m only twenty-nine,” D.J. told her.

  “Even better,” she said.

  Verdant had turned the corner on this year’s harvest and as people went back to their regular lives, they took time to call and commiserate with her on the incident. Everyone who’d ever had a snakebite or had a family member who’d suffere
d one, or knew a friend who had a friend who used to know someone who had one, was eager to give her all the details.

  There were also visits from the local florist. The room’s long windowsill quickly became as colorful and fragrant as a flower garden. There were vases of gerbera daisies, giant arrangements of gladiolus, more than one bowl of native Kansas sunflowers and a hardy-looking dieffenbachia that D.J. decided was destined for a long life as part of the library.

  Not one of these tributes was from Scott. She opened each card with that anticipation and could not quite stop herself from being ever so slightly disappointed.

  Of course, he didn’t owe her any gift, she reminded herself rationally. It was she who needed to be thanking him. And she was perfectly prepared to thank him, if and when he ever showed up again.

  On the third morning of what she was beginning to think of as her Hays Hospital incarceration, she was told that she could go home. She would have to make an appointment for a follow-up with Dr. Kim, but she was encouraged to continue to rest, told what over-the- counter pain medications she could take and which she shouldn’t, and given a prescription for physical therapy to get her right leg back in shape.

  The nurse showed her how to wrap her own foot in the loose bandage. The puncture wound seemed incidental compared to the swelling around it. No shoe, if she had had one, would fit over the puffiness . She was fitted into an ankle boot as if she’d had a sports injury. Somehow, she liked the idea of having kicked a lead soccer ball better than stepping upon a frightened snake.

  Once dressed, she called Viv and asked her to come get her. Secretly she was hoping that Scott would show up. She could hardly even admit it to herself, but she missed him. She really, really missed him.

  He had come by the night that she’d been admitted. He was so cute, teasing her and carrying her purse. She had wanted him to hold her, to simply melt in his arms. But of course, that was ridiculous. Yes, they’d had their little necking session. And yes, the emergency nature of the next morning had thrown them together unexpectedly. But there were still tremendous barriers to any kind of relationship between the two of them.

  Scott undoubtedly had recognized that and was responding to it. They had gotten a little bit too comfortable with one another. A little too flirty. A little too close to intimacy. It was definitely time for both of them to take a step backward.

  Still, she wanted to see him. She wanted to look at him. Laugh with him. Talk to him. She also wanted to hide in the wheat with him, to have him hold her tightly, to play necking games and, yes, to get herself flat on her back in a bed full of him.

  She was in serious danger of getting her heart broken, but she couldn’t seem to resist. And it seemed as if it no longer mattered that he was a player and a cheat. That he was unconscionable enough to prey on married women and judgmental enough to look down on a perfectly happy lesbian couple. That he would never offer the kind of complete, solid relationship that had once been her dream. She would be settling for little more than a habitual recurrence of the irresponsible sex fantasy she’d had that long-ago night at the beach. A more traditional, reasonable, pedestrian relationship seemed impossible for her to manage.

  Maybe that was the answer, she told herself. Perhaps it was her inability to connect with a mate in any real way that led her to pine after the kind of man who was unattainable for the long term.

  Against her better judgment, she retrieved the meager collection of cosmetics in her handbag and applied them to a pale complexion that did not appear “freshened” by all of her recent relaxation. She located her hairbrush and vigorously attempted to brush out any evidence of long-term bed head. By the time she was ready to go, she thought she looked pretty good.

  So she was not only surprised but disappointed when it was Suzy that showed up to drive her home.

  “I wanted to bring the bookmobile,” she said, giggling girlishly at the plan. “I thought that would make you feel really special to be picked up in one of your own libraries! Amos completely nixed the idea. He said that it was too expensive to drive this distance and there would be no place for you to stretch your leg out. I know he’s right, but I hate it when that happens.”

  “So are you back to work?” D.J. asked.

  “Officially back tomorrow,” she answered. “I figured it was not quite the thing to clock in and then drive to Hays to pick up a friend in the hospital.”

  D.J. smiled at her attempt at humor.

  “Amos is back on his route today,” she said. “This is his regular day for the stops at Washunga and Ponyvale. They’re the farthest south we go, and they finished up with harvest nearly a week ago. Since then folks have probably been standing, first on one leg and then the other, waiting for Amos to get there.”

  D.J. rode in a wheelchair out to the parking lot. An attendant helped her up and into Suzy’s vehicle. And D.J. seriously did not hate stretching her leg out across the backseat of the Granfeldts’ comfortable SUV.

  It did make for somewhat awkward conversation, driver in front, like a taxi or limo. But that didn’t even slow Suzy down. She had a hundred stories that D.J. had missed. And had every intention of catching her up during the long, lonely highway toward home.

  There was lots of gossip, big and little. D.J. listened with interest to all. But she was especially pleased to hear the latest on Amos and Jeannie.

  “She is positively glowing,” Suzy related. “I told her, you walk around looking that happy and everyone in Verdant will know what you’re up to.”

  D.J. chuckled. But in the privacy of the backseat, she was blushing, as well. She seriously hoped that nothing about her feelings for Scott was detectable by small-town observers.

  “And Amos,” Suzy continued with a shake of her head. “I swear, that guy has not given anyone a second look for years. I thought he was completely past it.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “I guess people don’t really get past it.”

  “I suppose that it’s only human to want companionship,” D.J. said.

  “Is that what you and Scott are up to with him in his skivvies? A little companionship?”

  D.J. blushed. “I was fully dressed and, on my way, to work. He’s staying with his mother downstairs from me. Don’t be starting any wild stories about us.”

  “Wild stories? Me? Not a chance,” Suzy said. “I just loved being proved right.”

  “Huh?”

  “I knew you two would make the perfect couple,” she told him. “Now everybody in town agrees with me.”

  “We aren’t really a couple,” she explained. “We haven’t even had a real date. We’re just... I don’t know what we are.”

  “I heard that he described himself as your boyfriend. Was he hallucinating?”

  “I’m sure he was just caught up in the moment,” D.J. told her. “He... We... well, it’s...” She allowed her sentence to trail off, because she had no idea of its direction.

  “Well, he must believe it,” Suzy said. “With all that he’s organized and accomplished the last few days, he must think he’s honed-in on the way to a librarian’s heart.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s moving the library. I don’t mean he’s moving it, but like he’s moving it around like you wanted. That’s why he hasn’t come to see you all week, why he didn’t come to pick you up. They’re working like maniacs to get it all done before you get there.” Suzy abruptly interrupted herself. “Oh shoot! I guess it was supposed to be a surprise.”

  D.J. was stunned. “It is a surprise.”

  “He knew how excited you were to get it done over the harvest,” Suzy explained. “And then I guess the doctor kind of suggested that it would take some time to get you back to 100% and he didn’t want you to have to wait.”

  D.J. tried to take it in. She’d been hoping he’d send flowers. Instead he’d given her library free labor. She tried to picture it. The change she’d imagined occurring while she slept off a snakebite.

  “It’
s a big job,” D.J. said. “There’s no way he could have managed it in four days.”

  “Of course not, not by himself,” she said. “Believe me, he’s had help.”

  “Who helped? You and Amos, I guess.”

  “We’re employees,” Suzy pointed out. “What this required was volunteers.”

  “Who volunteered?”

  “Okay, let me think who all I saw there before I left,” she said, holding up her fingers as if intending to count them off. “Mike Russell was there. And Alvin Fremont. Leon Coaler, Earl Tacomb, Barnette Paske, Ed Morton...”

  “I don’t know any of those people,” D.J. pointed out.

  “I doubt many of them have darkened the library door in years,” Suzy told her. “But they answered when they were called.”

  “Wow, I... Is there anybody that I know?”

  “Well, there’s my hubby. And several of the men from the Porter family that you probably met at Dutch’s funeral. I put another call out on my way up. I suspect half the town is in there now.”

  “I can’t believe it.” D.J. was still shaking her head. “Is it just guys?”

  “No, of course not. Guys mostly have the experience for the job. But there were plenty of women who showed up to help out. Nina and Mariana and Jeannie. Of course Stevie and Vern.”

  “Really? Did you ask them?”

  “No, they probably heard about it and showed up to help.”

  “Scott doesn’t like Vern.”

  “Well, duh,” Suzy responded. “Actually, I think they get along pretty good, considering the circumstances.”

  “What circumstances? Being gay is not a circumstance that your neighbors should hold against you.”

  D.J. was nearly thrown out of her seat as Suzy swerved unexpectedly, staring wide-eyed into the rearview mirror.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Sorry,” Suzy answered. “I just couldn’t believe it. You don’t know? Everybody knows. How could you not know?”

  “How could I not know what?” D.J. asked.