Mulberry Moon

by Catherine Anderson

  Blackie had tears in his eyes when Ben joined them in the waiting room.

  “She’s awake, sort of. Throwing her head, mumbling. They’re giving her something to ease her up.”

  Ben handed over the coffee, then gave Marilyn a hug and Blackie a strong handshake. “Now that you’ve both seen her, you need to go home and get some sleep. I’m staying. I’ll remind her you were here. Thank you for caring so much. I’d stay and chat with you—”

  “But you can’t stand not to be with her,” Marilyn interrupted. “We understand. Just go.”

  Smiling his appreciation, Ben pivoted on one foot and headed for Sissy’s room, hoping to get there and speak to her before the pain medication sent her under again. He had no idea what he meant to say. He just wanted her to know he was with her. He had a bad feeling that Sissy had never really had someone always in her corner.

  Ben resumed his seat in the chair beside Sissy’s bed. A CNA had just given her a dose of something in her IV tube, but even when only half-awake, she tossed her head on the pillow and mumbled under her breath. She was so pale. Then, as if an alarm had gone off inside her head, her eyes popped open.

  “It hurts. It hurts.”

  Ben got up and leaned over her. “I’m here, honey.”

  Her blue eyes, glazed and unfocused, melded with his. “Help me, Ben. The pain. Bad.”

  Ben had been kicked once by a bull and fractured his femur. He’d never forget the agony of it, and his break hadn’t gone clear through the bone.

  He grabbed Sissy’s patient remote and pushed the red button. When the old nurse bustled into the room, he said, “She’s hurting. She’s not a complainer. It’s bad. I know they gave her something, but she needs more.”

  The nurse bent over Sissy. She didn’t ask questions. “You’re right.” She left the room and returned moments later to administer Sissy a dose of something through the IV. “That’ll do the trick. Lights out for at least four hours. Judging by how you look, I’d say you’d be wise to grab a nap while she does.”

  After the woman left, Ben watched Sissy until the medication took hold. He saw her grind her teeth. He counted the creases that sprang forth on her sweet face as her body tightened to stifle a scream. His heart felt as if it were being ripped apart. But as much as that hurt, her agony was worse.

  After the medication took effect, she drifted to sleep, and he slumped in the chair, tipped his hat low over his eyes, and tried to rest. It was four in the morning. He needed a couple of winks, because he suspected Sissy would need him when she resurfaced. And he would be there for her, no matter what.

  * * *

  Sissy’s hospital stay became a blur for Ben. He slept when he could, ate when she was fast asleep, and became almost robotic with exhaustion. Sometimes she jerked awake, worrying aloud about Patches being alone. Ben assured her that the kitten was being well cared for by members of his family. Another time, she came wide-awake, concerned about her restaurant. When Ben told her that he would operate her business until she was able to work again, she told him how Crystal Malloy liked her eggs.

  And suddenly it hit Ben that Sissy wouldn’t be able to run the café for a long while, and that it was her only source of income. He soothed her back to sleep. Then he slipped from her room to call Brett, telling him that he’d have to take over at the ranch until otherwise notified.

  Brett was a good man. Great with horses. But he wasn’t a trainer, and Ben was boarding two horses that needed behavioral modification at his place. Leaning against the hallway wall, he hung his head, trying to think of someone who could take over for him.

  Ben thought of his dad. Was he still in good enough shape to work with difficult equines? Ben straightened out of his slump, drew his cell phone from his pocket, and dialed his father’s number. It was only seven thirty in the morning, but Jeremiah answered quickly, sounding bright and chipper.

  “Hey, Dad. I’ve got a question for you. Are you still able to work with problem horses?”

  Jeremiah laughed. “Well, I’m not using a cane yet, and I still ride every day. Besides, it’s been my experience that working the quirks out of a horse requires more intuition and good sense than it does muscle.”

  Ben couldn’t have agreed more.

  “So?” Eagerness rang in Jeremiah’s voice. “Don’t get me all excited and then disappoint me.”

  “You’re excited about working with horses again?”

  Jeremiah laughed. “Hell, yes. I wouldn’t want to do it full-time, but I’d love the opportunity to work with horses every once in a while. Your mother has me making Christmas tree ornaments, for God’s sake.”

  Ben smiled. “Say no more. I’d be going nuts.” Ben gave his father the rundown on the horses he had in his care. “Brett can handle all the grunt work. All you’d have to do is work with the two problematic horses. Three hours a day, tops. They lose their focus if I work with them for more than an hour and a half each. I let them rest two days a week. Are you interested?”

  “I’m so interested that I’ll go today!” Jeremiah muttered something Ben couldn’t catch. “It’s not like you to jump ship in the middle of a training stint. Did you get kicked or something?”

  “No, Dad, I’m fine.” Ben explained about Sissy’s accident. “I don’t have it straight from the doctor yet, but I’m guessing she’ll be unable to work for at least two months. If she has to close the doors that long, she’ll lose customers. I can’t allow that, so come hell or high water, I’m going to run the café.”

  “I knew she got hurt. Barney called your mother about a cat, and she went right over there. But you, run a café?”

  “I’ve worked a lot in the kitchen. I may hit rough spots, but I think I can do it.”

  Jeremiah sighed. “You must really love this woman.”

  “With all my heart.”

  “I’ll let your mother know when she gets home. She used to wait tables years ago. She’d probably love trying her hand at that again. I can help you nights with the cleanup if you tell me how. Barney said he’s got the door fixed.”

  Tears burned in Ben’s eyes. “You guys are the best. Whenever I need you, you’re always there for me.”

  * * *

  Ben grew so exhausted that he often wasn’t sure if it was night or day. He programmed his brain to focus on only the important stuff, such as doctor visits and instructions the nurses gave him for Sissy’s home care. Otherwise the routine of the hospital played on the screen of his mind like a film on fast-forward. He wasn’t even sure how long Sissy had been a patient there. He slept as often as he could to sharpen his senses, ever aware that when Sissy got better, he’d be the one who had to chauffeur her home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At six o’clock one morning, the doctor stopped in during rounds and startled Ben erect. “I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I must have nodded off.”

  The surgeon smiled. “Most of us do when we’ve slept in fits and starts for over forty-eight hours.” He bent over Sissy. “Ms. Bentley, how are you feeling this morning?”

  Sissy opened her eyes. “My leg hurts.” She stifled a yawn and struggled to focus. “But all I really want is to go home.”

  The doctor, a stocky blond who looked to be in his mid-forties, nodded. “I think we may arrange for that to happen today. But first I’d like a set of X-rays to check your tibia. If all looks in order, I’ll put in for her release.”

  Ben sat alone in the room while Sissy was taken downstairs for X-rays. When she was wheeled back in and her bed was returned to its former position, the nurse grinned at Ben. “You ready to take this young lady home? I’ve been told you plan to be her caregiver. That means you have to go through all the instructions for her care with me and sign a paper. You up for that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Ben listened intently to everything the nurse told him. Then the surgeon returned. “X-rays look grea
t.” He smiled at Ben. “It’s your job to keep them that way. No weight on the leg. She must take sponge baths until I see her again. Under no conditions should the boot be removed. No showers, no matter how creative you think you can be to keep the boot dry. One slip, and she’ll be in the OR getting bolts in her bone. No sex.” He sent Ben a pointed look, making Ben wonder if the entire hospital knew he wasn’t Sissy’s brother. “If she isn’t using the restroom, I want her elevating the leg above her heart. She can sit up occasionally with it elevated below the heart to eat, but for short periods of time at first. I’ll let her know when she’s allowed to do it longer. The therapist will fit her for crutches. They are to be used only while she has assistance for as long as she’s on pain medication. The stuff I plan to prescribe is what I fondly call ‘happy juice.’ Easy on the stomach, great for pain relief, but she may get dizzy. It’s a narcotic, so you must take the script to a pharmacy to fill it. Choose one near you, because she may need refills.” He tapped his pen on the clipboard. “That’s it from me. The nurses will tell you the rest, and my PA will be getting in touch to schedule appointments.”

  Ben nodded and gave him his phone number, a favor the doctor returned. “Get my number on her phone as well,” the surgeon said. “If anything happens or if you have questions, I’ll get back to you as quickly as I can.”

  Ben expected checkout to be simple. It wasn’t. Sissy’s jeans had been destroyed with scissors the night of her fall, and she’d puked all over her top. Sissy told her attendants to trash the clothing. A nurse supplied her with a pair of overlarge, bile green scrubs to wear home, one leg hacked off to ride above her boot. He had to sign papers. It seemed like hours passed before Ben had her on the passenger seat of his truck in a reclining position with her injured leg resting on a pillow on the dash.

  The ride back to Mystic Creek was a nightmare for Sissy. The stiff suspension under the Dodge made it a rough ride. Sissy didn’t complain, but Ben could tell by her pallor that every bump in the road hurt her. Before he even got her out of Crystal Falls, he was rethinking his plan of action.

  “Maybe I should just fill the script here so the trip home won’t be so awful for you,” he told her.

  “It’d be too far to drive back for refills, which I believe I’m going to need,” she replied. “Besides, the new guy, Drake Mullin, who bought the Pill Minder, can use the business. The older people think he’s too young to know what he’s doing.”

  “Fresh out of pharmacy school, he probably knows a lot more than the old fart that sold him the place.”

  “Ahhh!” Sissy cried when one tire hit a pothole in the street.

  Ben’s heart hurt for her, but there was no way he could make it a smooth ride. Whatever speed he drove, every jiggle brought Sissy pain.

  They made it to Mystic Creek without mishap, but not without a great deal of discomfort for Sissy. Ben wanted to take her straight to the café, get her settled upstairs, and then get her prescription filled. Sissy countered him on that idea.

  “I’m going to need a slug of that happy stuff before you help me out of this truck and I try to climb the stairs on crutches.”

  Ben parked along the curb on East Main and raced across the street to the Pill Minder. When he pushed open the door, a bell jingled. Except for the dark-haired, broad-shouldered young man behind the counter, there wasn’t a soul in sight. Ben decided Sissy had it right; the guy needed customers.

  Ben strode to the counter. “I’m Ben Sterling. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “I’m Drake Mullin, the idiot that wanted to get out of the city, live over his pharmacy, and connect with his customers. It never occurred to me that I might have no customers. It’s the only pharmacy in town. I don’t get it.”

  Ben didn’t have time for a chat, but he did feel sorry for the guy. “I’ll get my mother on it.” He slapped the script onto the counter. “I need that filled fast.”

  “You’ll get your mother on what?” Drake asked, his brown eyes filled with bewilderment.

  “Getting the old fools in this town to stop driving to Crystal Falls to get their prescriptions filled. They think you’re a pup who’ll make mistakes with their medications.”

  Drake picked up the paper but didn’t look at it. “A pup? I’m thirty-one years old! Better for me to fill their prescriptions than the last pharmacist. At least I can see.”

  Ben forced a smile. “I hear you. The old people in town are being silly. But for right now, that concern goes on hold. I’ve got a lady in my truck in so much pain that she’s about to scream.”

  Drake looked at the script and whistled softly. “Well, this’ll take care of it. For Sissy Bentley, huh? I heard she got hurt.”

  Ben leaned over the counter. “Drake, just fill the goddamned script. I promise to drop by as soon as I can to visit. I’ll bring coffee and donuts from the Jake ’n’ Bake, and we’ll talk until you can’t wait to be rid of me. But right now, Sissy is in horrible pain and every second seems like an eternity to her.”

  Drake turned away and strode into an aisle. “I hear you, and I’ll hold you to the donuts and coffee. Plus, you’re in luck. This stuff comes in a bottle. No measuring. All I’ve got to do is label it, and off you’ll go.”

  Ben tapped his knuckles on the counter. He already had his credit card out to pay when Drake handed him a small white sack with the pharmacy’s logo on it. “Just go. The machine takes forever to get card approval. Come back and pay when you can.”

  Ben felt a newfound respect for Drake. “Thanks. That’s kind of how Bill did business.”

  Ben shoved his card back into his wallet and said over his shoulder as he headed for the door, “My mom knows everybody. She’ll get on the horn and have half the people in town convinced you walk on water, and the other half will stop by to see if they can watch. I swear, she could sell monkeys to a banana grower.”

  * * *

  The moment Ben got back to his truck, he read the dosage and opened the bottle of happy syrup to pour some into the supplied measuring cap. Sissy, now looking green around the gills, took the tiny cup in a shaky hand, tipped her head back, and swallowed the cherry pink liquid. Then her arm flopped down at her side. Ben plucked the cup from her tightly clenched fingers.

  “I’m just going to sit here,” he told her. “Let’s give that stuff a few minutes to take hold.”

  “Amen.” She let her head loll on the reclined seat. “I’ve never had anything hurt like this.”

  “Just hold on, honey. The liquid should get into your bloodstream fairly fast.”

  He glanced at his watch. It was ten after three. The next time he checked, only another minute had passed. “How are you feeling?”

  “No relief yet. Call the doctor to see if he can prescribe something stronger.”

  Ben, who’d given Sissy his jacket to wear, lifted a hip to fish his phone from his back pocket. He knew she wasn’t a wimp when it came to pain. He got an answering service and left a message for the surgeon.

  Sissy, still pale, said, “He told us to just call him. Like it was a hotline straight to his ear. Instead we get his answering service? It could be twenty minutes before he calls back!” She sank against the seat again, too short to utilize the headrest. “I need another dose.”

  Alarm bells went off in Ben’s mind. Another entire dose didn’t sound like a smart idea. “Honey, this may be powerful stuff. Let’s not overdo it.”

  “I’ll take my chances!” she cried. “Give me that bottle!”

  Ben tucked the sack between his hip and the driver door. “Not until I call Drake and ask if you can safely take more.”

  “Drake, the pharmacist nobody trusts?”

  Ben was already dialing the Pill Minder. Drake answered and said, “Pill Minder. I’m sorry. Can you hold for a minute?”

  Ben shot a wondering look across the street. He could see the pharmacist at the counter, holding
the phone. There wasn’t a single customer in the store. “Hell, no, I can’t hold for a minute. This is Ben Sterling. I was just in there.”

  “Oh.” Drake laughed. “I just started saying that. It’s my new plan so anyone who calls will think I’m busy. Busy draws customers. It’s been proven in a study.”

  “Well, I hope your new tactics work, but for the moment, there’s an immediate problem. Sissy’s still in horrible pain. She’s wanting a second dose of syrup. I just want to make sure it’s safe.”

  “No!” Drake said. “You didn’t already let her take it, I hope?”

  “No. I called you first.”

  “Well, don’t let her. Somebody twice her weight, maybe, but there isn’t much to her, and that’s a powerful narcotic. It’ll hit her in a blink.”

  Ben glanced over at Sissy. She was gazing out the windshield and smiling slightly. Her body now looked almost limp. “Uh, yeah, I can see that. I think the pain crisis is over now.”

  Ben saw Drake at his front window, peering out at them. “Getting her upstairs to her flat will be challenging. You want some help?”

  Ben hooked a thumb at the druggist. “Like you said, there isn’t much to her. But thanks for offering.”

  * * *

  Ben took a page out of the paramedics’ book and parked in front of Sissy’s café so that she would have a straight shot as she moved toward the stairs on crutches. After he cut the truck engine, he glanced over at her as he probed his left front pocket for the key to her place. Still there. He shifted to dig it out. Then he exited the truck to unlock and open the front door of her restaurant. Seconds later, he had drawn her new crutches from the backseat and opened the passenger door, and was studying Sissy, who was now giggling.

  Barely able to contain a grin, he asked, “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking about John Wayne. Remember that movie? He and Maureen O’Hara were still married but estranged, only somehow they got stuck with each other again. And he got drunk. She was trying to help him up the stairs, he started to go over backward, she couldn’t hold his weight, and down they went.”