“Yes,” Meri managed.
“We turned our attic into an extra bedroom last year. My husband was covered in paint and plaster for weeks on end. But it sure makes a difference, doesn’t it?”
Meri nodded, jerked her hand back as the doctor pressed the skin around the wound.
“Did it hit anything?” Meri asked.
The doctor looked up. “Move your fingers.”
Meri did, watching to make sure she wasn’t having one of those ghost reactions and that they were really moving.
“I’d say you’re a very lucky girl. A few stitches and in two or three weeks you should be good as new.”
“Two or three weeks?” Meri’s head cleared.
“For a full recovery. Just take it easy until then. Are you left-handed?”
“No.”
“Good, then you can just baby this along for a while. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
“I’m up to date on all my shots.” In her profession it paid to keep current.
“Excellent. Now this might hurt a little. . . .”
Chapter 11
Carlyn returned to the room as the doctor finished with the stitches.
“I’m putting you in a wrist splint to keep the thumb stable.”
Meri and Carlyn watched him fit the splint, then wind gauze around Meri’s hand until it was unrecognizable. He finished by rummaging in a drawer and pulling out a plastic bag that contained a sling. He fitted it around her neck.
Meri stared at the sling and gauze and tape, her heart stammering. “How long do I have to wear this?”
“It’s just a precaution to prevent you from opening the stitches. You can change the bandage in a few days. Do you have someone who can help you? If not, you can come to my office.”
“I can,” Carlyn volunteered.
He handed Meri a prescription. “Take these for pain if you need them. You’re good to go then.”
“Can I go back to work?”
“If you don’t use your hand—at all. But no going up ladders for a few days.”
Meri thanked him and slid off the table.
“Did Doug go home?” Meri asked as they walked back to the waiting room to be discharged.
“No way. He’s like an expectant father out there.”
“My hand looks much worse than it is,” Meri complained. “He’s going to freak.”
“Don’t worry about Doug. He’ll cope until you get back.”
“It’s a good thing it’s my left hand.”
Doug was waiting for them and so was Peter . . . and Alden.
“Not my fault,” Carlyn said under her breath. “I called Peter to cancel and he wanted to know why. I tried to downplay your accident. Guess it didn’t work.
“And I called your neighbor because I thought someone in your family should know in case you needed help with insurance or something. And I didn’t want to worry your gran. I told him he didn’t have to come.”
All three of the men looked up at once. Doug was so pale that Meri was afraid he might faint. Peter and Alden hurried toward her. Well, Peter was hurrying. Alden never seemed to rush, though he was having no trouble keeping up with Peter.
Peter nudged Carlyn out of the way and put his arm around Meri’s shoulders. “Thank God you’re all right. I came as soon as Carlyn called.”
“Thanks, but I’m . . . fine. I think.”
“Do you have to check out? I’ll drive you home. Or maybe you should stay at my place tonight.”
“She’ll be coming home with me,” Alden said at his driest. “Her grandmother insisted that she recuperate at the farm.”
“I can take care of her,” Peter said defensively.
Which for some reason made Meri smile.
“I’m sure you can. You can visit her at the farm this weekend.”
“I’m going home to my apartment,” Meri said.
Both men turned on her.
“I’ll drive you,” Peter said.
She waited for Alden to counter with something, but he just stood there.
And suddenly Meri knew where she wanted to be. At home with Gran.
She turned to Peter. “Thanks, but I think I better go set Gran’s mind at ease. She’ll worry all week if she doesn’t see for herself.”
She didn’t miss the look that Peter shot Alden, but in true Alden style he totally ignored it.
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure, but thanks.”
“Should I cancel my trip this weekend?”
“No. Visit your family. I’ll be back in town when you get back.”
“Okay, then.” He leaned over and gave her a meaningful kiss, in case anyone was wondering about their relationship. “Take care of yourself.” He turned and strode out the double doors to the parking lot.
Alden slipped the prescription slip out of her hand. “I’ll go get this filled for you. Sit down.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t sit down but went over to Doug who was standing on the sidelines.
“I’m really sorry about the medallion.”
“Don’t worry about it. As long as you’re all right. What did the doctor say?”
“Not to climb any ladders for a few days. I can help Joe with the wallpaper tracings. But did you see the ceiling? Was I right? Is it gilt?”
“Yeah, they called over to say there is gilt, and the whole pattern under the medallion was intact.”
“That should make life a little simpler,” Meri said.
“Yeah, a big find.” Doug whooshed out a breath. “Meri, you scared the crap out of me.”
Meri was sure he was reliving the fall that had put pins in his legs and kept him on the ground. “I’m fine. I should have shored up the medallion, but it seemed solid.”
“The bolts were rusted through. It would have come down on its own. Only the paint was holding it up. It was your daring save that kept it from falling on everyone’s heads.”
She lifted her bandaged hand. “Sorry, this is going to slow down the ceiling cleaning a bit.”
“It can wait. Actually I’ve canceled work for Friday. We’ll be moving to four-day workweeks until further notice.”
Read, when we get more grant money. It was a catch-22. You couldn’t get money unless you had something to show and you couldn’t get things in shape to show without the money to do it.
“So take tomorrow off and come in on Monday, unless you need more time.”
“I won’t. And, Doug, don’t even think about replacing me.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the most well-rounded, meticulous technician I have. And I’m not giving your ceiling to anyone but you.”
Alden returned carrying a white pharmacy bag and a bottle of water. “You might want to take one of these now.” He opened the bottle of pills, poured out a capsule into his palm, and handed it to her. He opened the water and handed that to her.
She didn’t even think about protesting. She felt pain all the way up her arm. She put the pill in her mouth, reached for the bottle, swallowed it, and handed the bottle back to him. She felt frustration boil up inside her. She couldn’t even screw on a bottle cap. How the hell was she going to do things with one hand bound up like a sausage?
Carlyn handed Alden Meri’s purse and work bag, then helped Meri to put one arm in her jacket. The other side, she draped over Meri’s shoulder.
“Thanks, girlfriend.”
“No problemo. Your phone is in your bag. I’ll call you tomorrow. Take good care of her. I need her for karaoke.” Carlyn grinned.
“I will,” Alden said and steered Meri toward the exit. “You okay? My car’s in the lot. I can bring it around.”
“I’m fine. You didn’t need to come fetch me. I’ll be perfectly fine at home. Carlyn or Peter could have driven me.”
Alden gave her a look. “Carlyn maybe.”
“I take it back; you’re worse than Dad when it comes to Peter.”
“Did you want to go with him?”
She
didn’t have to think about her answer. “No. I wanted to go with you. Does Gran even know about the accident?”
He grinned. “Not yet. I wanted to see for myself.”
“Sneaky. But I’m glad you came. I want to go home. To Gran’s. But can we at least stop by my apartment so I can pick up some things?”
They walked to the parking lot, Alden on her good side and standing so close that she had to stop and say. “Don’t hover. I’m fine.” She smiled at him. “I’m sure Gran will fuss over me enough for the both of you.”
He backed off. “I wasn’t hovering, just being alert.”
“Ah.”
By the time they had parked, and Meri got out of the car, she welcomed Alden’s “hovering.” She was feeling no pain, literally and figuratively. It must be the pill. She didn’t like pills, because it was hard to work efficiently or safely on drugs. She never even had a glass of wine at lunch on the rare times she had a real sit-down lunch in a real restaurant.
She managed to find her keys with one hand but when she tried to fit the key to the keyhole, the keys fell from her hand. Alden scooped them up and opened the door. He held on to her going up the flight of stairs and then opened her apartment door.
“Sorry,” she said. “I seem to . . . It’s the drugs.”
“You’ll be okay.”
“I know, I’ll just pack some things for the weekend.”
She let her jacket fall off her shoulder and worked her arm out of the sleeve. “Pain in the butt,” she mumbled.
Alden took the coat.
“I’ll just be a minute.” She went into her bedroom and pulled her suitcase from under the bed and put it on the mattress. She managed to unzip it with one hand. She had more trouble with the two knobbed drawers of her dresser but refused to ask Alden to help.
A girl had her pride. She grabbed two pairs of jeans, a pair of sweats, some T-shirts, sweaters, and underwear. But when it came to shoes, she ran out of steam. She needed a little break. She sank down on the mattress next to her suitcase.
And the box, she’d need to take the diary . . .
Alden sat on the couch listening to Meri mumble and make noise as she moved slowly about her bedroom. She was probably having trouble packing with only one hand. But he made himself sit where he was, determined not to hover.
Did he really do that? Nora had accused him of being overprotective just a day or two ago. Well, fathers were supposed to be overprotective, especially if their daughters lived a hundred miles away and they rarely knew what was going on in their lives.
Meri wasn’t his daughter, but he had promised to protect her—and he’d taken that promise seriously. He breathed out a laugh, thinking of his younger self, coming to the farmhouse every day after school to see the baby. Spending the weekends with the Calders, asking questions, and worrying if Meri started to cry or threw up her milk. That must have been when he’d learned to hover.
And he hadn’t stopped, he guessed. Though he’d tried. Even as a teenager, he was busy, did regular teenage things, except for spending a lot of time drawing and taking art classes, but he still made sure everything was fine with Meri. She was an inquisitive little thing and couldn’t wait to go to kindergarten. She’d bring him things she’d found in the dunes, or lug the big mythology book over and put it in his lap and climb up after it to be read to.
It never occurred to her that an adolescent boy wouldn’t want to read to a kid. Actually it hadn’t really occurred to him, either. She cried when he left for college. After that he only saw her on breaks, but she was busy then, too, popular and always doing some project or other or hanging out with her friends.
Then life happened: he moved to Manhattan, started getting freelance jobs, met Jennifer, got married. By the time Alden had brought his daughter and pregnant wife to live at the beach house, Nora was two and Meri was old enough to babysit.
Enough of the past. He stood up, listened. Things were suddenly very quiet in Meri’s bedroom. “Meri?”
No answer.
He went to the door. “Meri?”
She was sprawled crosswise across the bed, her right hand in her suitcase as if she’d just put something there and fell asleep.
Quelling panic, Alden stepped inside and went to the bed. He watched as she exhaled. She was fine. She’d fallen asleep. Must be the pills, he thought.
He lifted the suitcase from the bed and put it out of the way. Took one look at her work clothes and plaster-covered hair, and thought, What the hell, sheets will wash. He untied her sneakers and slipped them off.
Meri roused enough to get under the sheets. As he pulled the quilt over her she opened drowsy eyes.
“You saved me.”
“No. I just drove you home from the emergency room.”
“No. You saved me.” She smiled slightly and fell back to sleep.
It looked like they wouldn’t be driving back to Little Compton until tomorrow.
Meri woke with a start. Light was coming through the window. She felt dirty and thirsty, and there was a throbbing pain coming from her left hand. Then she remembered the accident: going to the emergency room; Alden, Doug, Peter, Carlyn; Alden driving her home. They were going to Gran’s. She wasn’t at Gran’s. She was at her own apartment.
And she smelled coffee.
She pushed the quilt back and sat up, sending rays of pain up her left arm. Well, she could get used to it. She wasn’t taking any more of those pills. Maybe a half if things got worse.
Coffee would be good. Meri pushed herself to her feet and realized that she was still wearing her work clothes. She walked out to the living room.
Alden was standing at the window holding a mug of coffee.
“Did you stay here all night?” she croaked. Her throat was hoarse from the plaster dust.
He nodded. “How do you feel?”
“Fine. Where did you sleep?”
“In the chair.”
“The couch pulls out to a bed.”
“No big deal.”
“Well, thanks.” She went over to the kitchen and found a mug already placed next to the coffeepot. She poured herself a cup and sat on the couch.
Alden turned from the window. “There isn’t anything in your refrigerator but congealed pad thai.”
“I’ve been too busy to shop.”
“And too busy to eat?” He raised his eyebrows as he gave her the once-over.
She shrugged. Or at least tried to. It seemed like every time she moved, it set off a new jolt of pain. “You shaved.”
“Found a package of disposable razors under the sink.”
She understood his expression and she wasn’t in the mood for any aspersions cast on her relationship with Peter. “Well, good for you.”
“Finish your coffee, and I’ll take you somewhere for breakfast before I take you home.”
She considered protesting but just didn’t have the energy to fight. She rarely won when Alden really set his mind on something.
“On second thought, maybe we’ll just stop for bagels and eat in the car.”
“I’m fine, really.”
Another lift of his eyebrows sent her into the bathroom to look in the mirror. She didn’t look fine. She was a walking disaster area. Her hair, face, and clothes were smeared with dirt, blood, and plaster dust. She couldn’t go to Gran’s looking like this.
She grabbed a washcloth and turned on the water. Alden called, “Don’t get your stitches wet.”
Meri scrubbed her face with one hand. When she’d gotten as clean as possible, she opened the door and came out.
“Alden, I can’t go looking like this.”
He shook his head, his lips working until he burst out laughing. “Sorry, but you do look a bit like one of my more imaginative illustrations.”
“The poor little match girl?”
He shook his head again, trying not to smile.
“You’ll have to wait while I take a shower.”
“You can’t get your hand wet.”
“I’ll hold it out of the shower curtain or put it in a plastic bag; I must have one around here somewhere.”
“Or you can wait until you get home where I’m sure there are plastic bags, and there’s a walk-in shower. And Therese can hand you soap and stuff.”
She looked back at the bathroom, so close and yet so far . . . “I don’t suppose you—”
They looked at each other for a long second, then Alden slowly shook his head.
“She’ll freak when she sees me. At least let me stick my head under the faucet. I’ll only use one hand. Are you in a hurry?”
Alden sighed. “Come over to the sink. Where’s your shampoo?”
“In the rack on the tub.”
She moved the coffeepot out of the way and turned on the water.
Alden came back with shampoo, conditioner, and several towels. He rolled up his sleeves, then rolled up a towel and put it on the counter for her to use to cover her eyes. She leaned over and rested her head on the edge of the sink, flooded with memories of standing just like this while her mother or Gran washed her hair in the kitchen, then sat her down at the table to comb out the tangles.
A sense of love swept over her for her family, for the life they’d given her. For Alden promising to take care of her. She vaguely remembered trying to ask him about that last night, but it was elusive. Maybe she had just meant to. There would be time this weekend, maybe even during the ride to the farm.
Long fingers pushed her hair forward and she felt water run off her neck and ears.
“Too hot?”
“No. It feels wonderful.”
She felt the cold of the shampoo smelled the sweet scent of citrus as Alden scrubbed the tangled mass gently with both hands.
Meri gave in to the rhythm of his hands, the drag of his fingers. There was something soothing about a shampoo. Like a lullaby. She sighed. “Wonderful.” Sensual. Sexy.
He yanked at her hair and the feeling shattered.
“Did you say something?”
“Uh-uh. I don’t think so. Did I?” Did she? She was still loopy from that pill. She sighed as Alden began to scrub again. Harder this time.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry, it’s pretty tangled and I haven’t had to do this in a while. Plus dried plaster is a lot harder to get out than Play-Doh.”
Breakwater Bay Page 12
