by ML Nystrom
“All right, darlin’. We’re goin’ for a little ride to the hospital. They’re gonna take some pictures to make sure you ain’t got nothin’ broken.”
“Oh, goody. Never been in an ambulance before. Can I play with the lights?”
He chuckled. “You can play with whatever you want as long as you stay awake for me.”
I was sure my smile resembled a horror mask. “Seriously?”
He laughed out loud this time. “That came out wrong. Tell you what. Talk to me the rest of the ride, let the folks at the hospital do what they need to do so you can get healed up. Then I’ll take you dancing one night when you’re better. Deal?”
“Maybe if your mom gives you permission. I bet you’re ten years younger than me.”
“I’m twenty-four.”
“More than ten years.”
“I like older women.”
I grimaced as I tried to keep from laughing. The movement sent sharp pains through my ribs and chest. “Oh my, that hurts.”
The ambulance took off with blaring sirens. Thankfully the sound was muffled in the back.
“Did you happen to pick up my phone?” I asked as we moved along.
“It’s right here.” He handed me the hard rectangular box. “Looks like the case did its job. Your car is a total loss while your phone stayed okay.”
I tapped the icon for Jodie, and she answered on the second ring.
“Where are you? Lazing in front of the TV, bingeing on Netflix? You missed a great class.”
“I had an accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
“The car kind. I’m on the way to the hospital and might need some help.”
“Omigod! Where are you?”
“In an ambulance.”
“Shit, I’m on my way. Meet you in the emergency room.”
She hung up, and I handed the phone back to the cute paramedic. He never did tell me his name, so I figured his offer of dancing wasn’t too serious.
The emergency room was a flurry of controlled chaos. The nurses whisked me through to X-ray, and my heroic rescue guy disappeared. Jodie showed up as the doctor pulled up the images on a rolling computer stand. She fired her questions as she walked in the cubicle. “Does she have a concussion? Did her nose break? Is she being admitted? Does she need a full MRI? Are her ribs broken?’
“No breaks anywhere, but there is extensive bruising. Maybe a mild concussion, so we are going to keep her here for observation. No need for an MRI.” He turned to me. “You’re a very lucky woman. From what Justin said, you could’ve been hurt much worse.”
“Justin?”
“The paramedic.”
I had a name now, not that it mattered.
“What the hell happened?” Jodie insisted. Her lips curled into her teeth, and I could tell she had entered her I’m-taking-charge-of-this-situation mode.
The hammers in my skull started up again, and I leaned back, wincing. “Let me tell the story once when the sheriff gets here, okay?”
She relented, even though she wanted to blow. “What can I do then?”
“I might need some clothes. Maybe you could call Connor and tell him I won’t be around tomorrow. I’m supposed to pick out paint colors for the bedrooms in the morning. I also need someone to check on Pal.”
Jodie jerked her phone from her purse and her thumbs flew over its surface. “I’ll take care of it. You just rest. I’ll get the details later. Walmart is the only place open right now. I’ll go get you some real pajamas. You don’t need to sleep in that horrid hospital gown. Ugh. I hate going to Walmart. They never have enough cashiers on duty. The lines are totally inefficient. I’ll be back soon.”
Resting was an impossibility with all the people in and out. The nurses came in with forms to sign. The sheriff came to get my statement. While I spoke to him, another nurse gave me a pain reliever that sent me straight to fuzzy la-la land. More people drifted in and out of the curtained cubicle and then I got transported to a private room. Just when I thought I could relax, my phone buzzed with messages, and Jodie showed back up with several plastic shopping bags.
“Here, I just got you some leggings, a sweatshirt, and sneakers to wear home tomorrow. I didn’t bother with cosmetics. Just moisturizer. Walmart brand isn’t Sephora or MaryKay, but it will do in a pinch.” She set the bags down on the awkward rolling table and plopped herself down on the small corner couch. “Damn, these cheap things have no cushion whatsoever. Whoever is in charge of furnishings ought to spend the night on one at least once before approving their purchase.”
I giggled at my sister getting all huffy. My phone buzzed again, and she pulled it out of my hand to turn it off. “I’m taking this with me so you won’t be disturbed. Connor said you can wait for the colors for a few days and there are plenty of other jobs they can do that don’t require your presence. You have nothing to worry about other than resting tonight.”
“I can’t do a lot of that. The nurse said they have to wake me up every so often because of the concussion.”
Jodie huffed again. “I suppose that’s a good idea, but it certainly doesn’t help you heal. Maybe I’d better stay. Shit, I gotta go pick up the kids from lessons. One is at guitar and the other is at indoor soccer at the Y. I’ll go get them, then run by your place and feed the dog and….”
“Text Garrett and ask if he can go by my place. Pal knows him best. I’ll be fine. You take care of your kids. One night in the hospital won’t kill me.”
Her breath hitched. “Oh shit, Bertie, you could’ve died tonight.” She dashed at the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. “Don’t you dare do that again. You are not allowed to leave me. Understand?”
“I’ll do my best.” My eyelids were drifting closed, and sleep sounded like a great idea while I could get some. “Go home to Jerry and the kids. I’m good here on my fluffy white clouds.”
Yes, my brain had soaked up enough pain meds to float me to the sky. I was sure my words were slurry, but Jodie got the message. She leaned over me and kissed my forehead. “Love you, sis.”
“Wuv-oo-too.”
Fifteen
Garrett sat down on the barstool and nodded to Sloane. She nodded back and pulled a Guinness draft for him.
“Jeez, you look beat.” Her hair color had changed again to a dark blue that matched her short fingernails. “Rough week?”
Garrett took a long swallow and sighed. “Yeah.”
“Personal or business?”
“A little of both. My personal life is bleeding into my work life. Not a great combination sometimes.”
Sloane wiped off the bar with her ever-present towel. “I get that. It sucks when two worlds collide.”
Garrett took another drink and glanced around the room. Not many people were there on a Tuesday night. A couple of men had a game of pool going in the back corner, and three more sat at the bar. Otherwise, the place was empty. His watch read seven thirty. Bertie would be done with her yoga class by now and should be back home. He watched her movements while he worked, and she had no problem telling him her schedule. He knew when she went to the grocery store, cleaned her little house, spent time on the computer for clients, played with Pal, yoga classes, and whatever else she did in her life. He was so attuned to her comings and goings, he could tell the hour by when her car moved from the driveway.
“Wanna tell me about it? It’s my job as a bartender to sling booze and advice.” She joked, but her manner said she would listen.
“Can a man love two women?”
“Nope.” Her answer was abrupt. “A man might find a lot of women attractive. Might have kind feelings toward them or care about them, but I think the deeper love people want is only found in one other person. Some call it being soulmates, and I suppose it’s as good a term as any. That’s when you put all you have, your body, your soul, your love, every bit of what makes you an individual into the hands of someone else. All of it, and you give it to the one you trust to hold it close and keep it saf
e. I don’t see how anyone can make that kind of promise to multiple partners. Maybe some people are wired that way, and that’s okay, but for me, I’m either all in or out.”
She flipped the towel over her shoulder and blew a strand of blue hair from her eyes. “I take it you’ve got two women on the line and don’t know what to do?”
“Not intentionally. When I moved here, I wanted… I needed to start over. Long story, but the gist is I was in a bad relationship. Toxic. It was bad for a long time. I didn’t think I had any other options, so I stuck it out. It got worse. Some hurts never heal, do they? I thought I loved her.”
“She cheated on you.” Sloane didn’t ask a question. She made a statement.
“Yeah. More than once. Maybe with more than one man.”
The bartender leaned her five-foot-five frame over the bar top. “I bet I can write the rest of this story. You’re here in Asheville with family to heal and rebuild your life, and you met someone you like. A lot. Now you’re gun-shy ’cause it hasn’t been that long since your breakup. How am I doing so far?”
Garrett smiled and turned the heavy beer glass around and around. “Dead-on. My ex got my new number and has been calling and texting. A lot. Claims she made a mistake, she’s sorry, and wants me back.”
“Sounds pretty clichéd to me.”
Garrett’s smile dropped, and he swirled the half beer left in his glass. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“Do you still love her? Your ex?”
“I don’t know. I had some good times with her. We have a lot of history, and that’s hard to throw out.”
“Toxic is still toxic. Anything change?”
The recent conversation with Joy ran through his head. Her tears and apologies sounded sincere, but past experience told him she followed the same pattern she always did. “I doubt it, and it never will.”
“Then there’s your answer.” Sloane pulled the towel from her shoulder and wiped at the immaculate bar. “You strike me as an all-in kind of man. When you commit, you commit. No gray areas. No holding back. No escape plans. You give everything you’ve got and expect the same in return. That’s the kind of woman you need. Someone who takes everything you have to offer and hands it back to you. If you stay stuck in a relationship where you’re the only one giving, eventually, you’ll get sucked dry. Sounds to me like you’re only half full right now. My sage advice as the resident therapist and drink specialist is go with the woman that fills you up.”
Garrett stopped watching the liquid moving around in the glass and raised his eyes to meet Sloane’s. “Does any of this make me a weak man?”
She smiled and cocked her head to one side. The blue orbs reflected wisdom much older than her years. “No. It makes you human.”
Her attention suddenly snapped behind him. “Tom, I’ve told you twice already not to come back in here. You are banned for life.”
“Aww, pleez, Sloane. Pleez let meh start comin’ back. Ah promise ah won’t bother no one.”
The blue hair shook rapidly. “Nope. I’ve had too many complaints from the women here, and you’ve had too many warnings. Find another place to go.”
“What ’bout Gordon? He ban meh too?”
“My bar, my rules. Now get out of here.”
“He doan’ got no say? I bet he’d lemme back in.”
“What did I just say? It’s my bar, Tom.”
The skinny singer puffed out his chest. “Imma man, you know. Wimmen are ’posed to submit to men. Says so in the Bible.”
Garrett stood up from his barstool and opened his mouth, but Sloane stepped in first.
“Submit? You’re saying that just because you have dick and I have a pussy, I have to do what you say? Get the fuck out of my bar!”
“But Sloane—”
“I said get the fuck out!”
The two pool players approached the argument, both with their cue sticks in their hands. “The lady said to leave. You need some help finding the exit?”
Tom’s face turned redder, and he sputtered some even more incomprehensible words before he turned and stomped out of the building, pushing at chairs and tables as he left.
“You okay, Sloane?”
“Yeah, I’m good, Pete. Thanks. Y’all go finish your game.”
The two men lumbered back to the pool table, and Garrett resumed his seat at the bar. “That guy give you a lot of trouble?”
Sloane rolled her eyes. “More than I imagined he would. That’s the second time he’s been in here demanding I let him back in. First time he came in spouting that as a woman, I had no right to deny him entry. Gordon happened to be in the bar that time and banned him again. I think he tried tonight ’cause he knows Gordon isn’t here.”
Garrett turned the beer glass but didn’t take a drink. “You safe? I don’t know the guy, but from what I’ve seen, he might be the type to wait for you in the parking lot after closing.”
Sloane barked a laugh. “I have a concealed carry permit, and I’m packing every time I walk in or out of the bar. We got robbed once last year, and I don’t plan to repeat that. Pete and Ralph over there usually stay until I close up, and there are stairs in the back office to get to my apartment on the third floor. No reason to go outside. I might close up early, anyway. Not many people are here drinking.”
Garrett’s phone buzzed with a text.
Bertie: Hi Garrett, it’s Jodie Harris. Can you go feed and see to Bertie’s dog? She had a car accident and will stay in the hospital overnight.
Garrett’s stomach dropped to his knees when he read the words.
Garrett: What happened? Is she okay?
Bertie/Jodie: Some idiot ran her off the road. The doctor wants to keep an eye on her tonight, but they say she will be discharged tomorrow. In fact, would you mind taking care of the dog tomorrow morning too? That would help me and her a lot.
Garrett: I’ll take care of Pal. Thanks for letting me know.
Garrett’s body flushed as any alcohol burned out of him with an adrenaline surge.
“What is it?” Sloane asked.
“A... friend of mine had an accident. Her sister wants me to go take care of her dog. I’d rather go to the hospital first. Can you cash me out?”
“Who is it?”
“A woman named Bernadette Shore.”
Sloane’s hand came up to cover her mouth. “Oh, fuck, I know Bertie.” She waved a hand in the air. “Don’t worry about this one. You only drank half, and the other half is too warm now. Catch up next time. Go take care of business and let me know what’s happening, yeah?”
“Thanks, Sloane. I owe you one.”
The drive to the hospital took longer than he expected. It seemed like every traffic light turned against him, and the slowest of the slow drivers got in front of him. He made it to the lit building and parked close to the entrance. A light dusting of snow drifted down as he hurried inside.
“Bernadette Shore’s room?”
The woman at the help desk huffed and frowned. “Visiting hours are over, sir.”
Garrett thought fast. “She asked me to take care of her dog and I need her house keys. I’ll only take a minute.”
“Are you a family member?”
“I’m… uh… her fiancé.”
The woman sat back and raised a dubious eyebrow. “You’re her fiancé and you don’t have keys to her house?”
Garrett bet this gray-haired woman used to be a teacher. Only a teacher’s gaze could possess that much power. Enough to put a room full of rowdy high school boys into submission. “It’s complicated.”
She stared at him until he began to squirm. “Five minutes. No more.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
If Sloane ever needed a security guard at her bar, he knew where to find one.
Bertie lay in the hospital bed covered in a white blanket. An IV tube draped from one arm, and there was a clip on her fingertip. The white bandage plastered across her nose gleamed in the faint light. She turned her head as he opened the door an
d smiled at him with a slow blink. “Hey, baby. I wuz jus’ dreamin’ ’bout choo.”
Her words slurred slightly. As he approached the bed, he saw the bruising around her eyes. Garrett’s gut clenched, but he managed to clear his voice and smile down at the injured woman.
“Hey, back. Dreaming how?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Dancing. Dancing in th’ cloudz.”
He put his hand over hers. “I’ll take you dancing for real once you get out of here.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
A nurse entered. “Well, surprise, surprise! Brunhilde the resident Valkyrie let someone past the gates. You must have impressed her. Not many survive her form of the Spanish Inquisition.” She turned to Bertie and started taking vitals, flashing a light in her eyes, and asking cognition questions. “Do you know your name? Do you know where you are? What is today’s date?”
Bertie answered them in a clearer voice. “I’m Bernadette Shore, but my friends call me Bertie. I’m in a hospital, and unless I missed a day being asleep, it should be Tuesday night.”
The nurse nodded and stepped back to put some notes in her portable computer. “I still have to check a few more times during the night, but I think you’re fine.” She turned her attention to Garrett. “Are you her husband?”
“Ah, no. I told the woman downstairs I was her fiancé.”
The nurse barked a short laugh. “Agnes must have sensed something in you. Not many can fool her. That old battleax can bring a grown man to his knees with one look.”
Garrett nodded in agreement. “I also need to get her house keys to go take care of her dog tonight.”
The nurse tsked her tongue. “I’m not supposed to give out her stuff to anyone but family.” She turned to the semi-dozing Bertie. “This guy special to you?”
“Uh-huh. He can have my keys. We’re goin’ dancin’.”
The nurse let out another laugh. “Never a dull moment here. Her keys are in that cupboard. Have fun dancing, but wait a few weeks, yeah?”
“Give Pal a kiss for me, would’ja?”
“Not hardly.” Garrett leaned over the bed and placed his lips on Bertie’s forehead. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
