Sticky Notes - A clean romance (Ethel King Series Book 1)

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  “Between now and the end of the semester, do not give into Benton.” Evans ordered.

  Maybe it was the subdued hospital room setting, but she needed color. The rolling hills. Grandma’s summer garden. Pizza. Evans’s gray shirt blocked her view of the gladiolas. She just wanted to sob and let it all go.

  The heart hears what it wants to. Oh, Evans. Was he trying to break her?

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  “Another thing that you told me about your Dr. Zhivago that I don’t think you remember is . . .” Holding his clipboard, Dr. Ungerbach waited for Katherine to lift her gaze.

  “I can already tell that you’re making this one up.” She inhaled deeply, trying to prepare herself.

  “You said he’s not ready for you to be the only woman in his life.”

  She burrowed her head deeper into the pillow. “Why did I blabber so much? How far is it from the ER to the operating room?”

  He laughed. “We were waiting momentarily, and for some reason, probably morphine-induced, you confided in me.”

  “Does it happen a lot?”

  “No, not often enough.”

  Their time together felt like an embarrassing, awkward date. Maybe she needed protein.

  “I’m still unbiased if you’d like to talk about the Eliminator.”

  She pushed on the appropriate button, raising her bed to an eighty-degree position, and tucked the blankets beneath her armpits. “He blind dates every Friday.”

  “Every Friday?” His sandy-blond brows knit together.

  “Small-town women that he talks to on the phone.”

  “Wow!” Brad shook his head. “How can he go out with women he’s never met . . . when he’s already met someone like you?”

  His sentiments were beautiful, but, like the Gallo wine bottle, painfully sharp. Would she ever recover from Brad’s epiphany?

  “I can see your pain level is presently at a ten. I’m sorry.”

  Maybe her injury was God’s way of taking her out of the game. Maybe God, the wise coach that He was, was benching her for a broken heart.

  Ж

  Dr. Ungerbach checked in on Katherine at three o’clock Friday afternoon. He looked at her chart. “You’ve been motivated. You’ve walked twice; I see, and you’re studying.”

  Books were piled beside her on the bed. She capped her highlighter. “Do I have your permission to go home tomorrow?”

  “Yes. I’ll write up your departure ticket.” He cleared his throat. “I have Monday off and, I was wondering how you’d feel about me driving you up to the college for your makeup exam?”

  “Oh, wow.” That would eliminate the need to have Grandma in her gardening hat wheel her around campus. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

  “What time should I pick you up?” Brad’s brows lifted.

  Katherine blinked. “It’ll be in the Administration Building; how’s morning for you?”

  “I’ll pick you up at nine thirty. Afterward, I’ll take you to my place for green tea.”

  “Oh.” There were strings attached. “Sounds like you’re a health nut?”

  “Just a little.” He held out his thumb and arched forefinger, about an inch apart.

  “I probably won’t be very good company.”

  “I doubt that very much.” Healthy color tinged his cheeks.

  How could he even look at her? She hadn’t had a shower in days, and her hair—she wouldn’t think about her hair.

  Ж

  Ethel was surprised to see Quinn’s car parked near the back gate. She watched through the window above the table as he strolled to the back door. His blind date with Miss Princeton was in a few hours, and here he was. She set the pair of salt-and-pepper shakers that he’d given her on the table, and then hurried and opened the door before he had a chance to knock.

  Mid-air, he still pretended to knock. “Hi, Ethel. I’m on my way home and have about an hour to kill.”

  “There’s still some decaf left from last night. Would you care for a cup?”

  “That sounds great.” While Ethel set two cups of coffee in the microwave, Quinn opened the fridge and set the creamer on the table.

  “You’re using them.” He sounded pleased to see the Currier and Ives set on the table.

  Ethel nodded. “The old corks had dried up, and the salt and pepper leaked out the bottom. I can’t tell you what a pain it was to find little corks in this town. But they’re so worth it.”

  “Katherine found them. I talked her into letting me be the one to buy them for you.”

  “Before I forget, she gets released tomorrow morning at ten, and I was wondering if you could bring her home? I know you mentioned a while back something about your peers frowning on you driving her a—”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  The microwave dinged.

  “Good.” Ethel giggled as she transferred the cups to the table. “I just remembered that I found the article I was telling you about. The reason I couldn’t find it is, I had it laminated, and it was in the file cabinet and not that old album.” Ethel headed to the curio cabinet for the precious article.

  “It was a half-page article in The Columbian, let me see . . .” She looked at the date in the top right corner. “September 10, 1984.” She handed Quinn the article and sat back down.

  A picture of Katherine and her Grandpa Crang—Pattie’s father—was positioned in the upper section of the page. They were both dressed in forestry-green volunteer shirts, as the picture had been taken at Fort Vancouver, where they’d volunteered. A ten-year-old, Katherine had her arms wrapped about her grandfather’s shoulders. Stocky, with a beard and glasses, it was evident that emotion misted the elderly man’s eyes. The article was entitled: “A Shared Love for History.”

  There was no mistaking it—as Quinn regarded the photo, tears surfaced in his eyes. Ethel rose from her chair and looked over his shoulder to view it also. “Her grandpa Crang always used to call her his little darling. Katherine’s sparkling eyes and wide smile revealed that she was missing one of her molars. An adorable child, she was now a beautiful young woman; that is if one could ever get past her pigheaded, stubborn King pride.

  The article was a summary of Katherine and her grandfather’s close relationship, and their shared love for places of the past.

  “I don’t know if I can finish reading this.” Quinn tipped his head back and inhaled deeply.

  “Just read it in small chunks,” Ethel said. “You’re not going out with that nurse, Miss Kitty Princeton, tonight until you’ve read the whole thing.”

  Ж

  As was normal for her on Friday evenings, Katherine studied. She poured herself into the Civil War. She looked forward to the final weeks of the semester, when she’d be back in class and Benton would cover the Reconstruction period. Presently, he was on his date with Miss Princeton, and in about two hours he’d discuss the outcome at Evans’s. The phone rang on the table beside her. Turning, she picked it up.

  “Hi, honey,” Grandma said. “I spoke with Quinn earlier and asked if he’d mind picking you up tomorrow, and he said he’d be happy to.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.”

  “I put fresh sheets on the bed in the spare room for you. I don’t want you climbing the stairs.”

  “Thank you. Have you seen him lately?” Katherine glanced toward the partially opened door. Voices of staff workers echoed down the hall.

  “Yes, he stopped by here before his date with Miss Princeton.”

  “What do you think, Grandma?”

  “I don’t know. One minute he’s talking about you and the doctor, and the next he’s talking about the nurse. They’ve chatted on the phone a few times, and he said that he felt obligated to follow through with their date.”

  The knot in her gut at the mention of Quinn’s name wasn’t as noticeable. “Grandma, this week has been difficult, but some good’s come out of it. Maybe I need to move on and stop waiting.”

  “Oh, is that what you’ve been doing—waiting? I
thought you were recuperating and studying.”

  “That too.”

  “I think this doctor’s interest in you is making you feel impatient.”

  “You’ve always told me there’s a purpose to all that happens and that God has a plan. It’s like the road that my heart’s been taking had a dead-end sign posted and I didn’t see it. I was so busy enjoying the scenery that I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Oh, I hate being in the middle. And you know how I don’t want to give you hope unless I’m sure…” Grandma whispered.

  “Yes.” Katherine closed her eyes and nodded.

  “I’m still not sure. But, last night when we pored over the old photo albums, Quinn took his time, Katherine, especially with a couple of photos.”

  “Do you remember which ones?”

  “He just stared at the one of you and your dad, the day of your college graduation. In his own way, he was emotional.” Grandma sighed. “Remember I took that one out in the parking lot behind the Kibbie Dome with the rolling hills behind you. You looked especially beautiful and happy that day.”

  Katherine leaned back in the pillow. It was one of her favorite photos, a close-up of her father and her, standing cheek to cheek. “What do you mean emotional, Grandma?”

  “His eyes. There was something in Quinn’s eyes… maybe tears.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  When Katherine awoke, her breakfast tray table was positioned on her left, and on her right, a card sat propped by the telephone. Her name was printed in capital letters on the front of a white Hallmark envelope.

  She pushed the correct black button and elevated the bed to a comfortable sitting position. She opened the envelope. Who had dropped it by early this morning or late last night? A pair of bright fuchsia flip-flops atop white sand brightened the front of the card.

  How perfect. She giggled, running her finger beneath the seal.

  I’ll be in surgery this morning, but I wanted to let you know that I’ll call and check on your progress sometime today—Brad.

  His number was printed near the bottom of the card. Katherine stared blindly at the closed curtains. Dr. Ungerbach was indeed interested.

  Ж

  Nurse Pat helped Katherine get in the shower. She leaned on her crutch and washed her hair. It was awkward but worth it. Grandma had packed clothes for her. The Levi’s skirt was perfect, only one hoop to get her feet through.

  By a quarter to ten, she was seated on the edge of the bed, ready and waiting. Alone in the room, she glanced at the mirror above the sink. Her long, blonde hair, now dry, hung loosely about her shoulders. From the waist up, she looked normal, like a clean Katherine King.

  Ten minutes later, Benton wandered into her room, wearing an untucked polo shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals. “Katherine . . .” He smiled. “You’re looking quite well.”

  Nurse Pat pushed a wheelchair into the room and handed him a pair of crutches. “Katherine, these are both loaners. Dr. Ungerbach worked out a deal for you.”

  “Will you thank him for me?”

  “Of course. Now, put your weight on your left, and I’ll be here if you need me.” Pat set the brake and held out her arm. Katherine swiveled and was able to smooth the back of her skirt before she sat down.

  “I’ll be in charge of the gladiolas,” Katherine said.

  Benton poured most of the water out of the vase into the sink and handed it to her. Pat pushed Katherine’s wheelchair down the hallway, through the reception area, and out the double doors, all the way to Quinn’s car. She was finally going home.

  While Quinn drove, Katherine held the gladiolas in her lap. She wouldn’t ask about his date. If he wanted to tell her, he would. If he didn’t tell her, she knew that Cindy would.

  He cleared his throat. “Cindy and Evans are antiquing in Pullman this morning.”

  “That’s right. She asked me earlier if I wanted to go. At the time, it sounded fun.”

  “I thought so, too.” He patted the wheel. “We could pick up your meds and meet up with them.”

  His spontaneity surprised her. “I’m not great on crutches yet.”

  “We have a wheelchair in the trunk.”

  “I don’t think I should.” She looked at her foot.

  “I don’t care if you sleep. They’ll be glad to see you.”

  He wanted her to go; she heard it in his voice. She reflected on Brad’s card. “I have a midterm on Monday.”

  “You were ready for it a week ago.”

  While Quinn patronized Olson’s Drug, Katherine prayed in the car. “Lord, I’m tired of being confused. I just want black and white. Please, no more gray. Your will, Lord, Your perfect plan, not mine, amen.”

  Quinn handed her back her insurance card, a small bag, and a bottle of spring water. “The pharmacist said to stay ahead of the pain and take two tablets from the big bottle every four hours, and not to exceed more than eight in twenty-four hours.”

  She popped two pills in her mouth. Instead of taking Main toward Grandma’s, Quinn stayed on Highway 98, heading west out of town toward Pullman.

  “Benton, I’m not up for it.” She laid her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

  “It was because you had really great insurance that you were there as long as you were. You should have been home two days ago, but he kept you longer.”

  “I passed out on the way to the bathroom. He tried to send me home earlier.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He sighed.

  “How was your date with Miss Princeton?”

  “Fine. We dined in Moscow at the Chinese restaurant on Main, across the street from The Green Dragon, as you call it. They have great cashew chicken.”

  “Did Evans tell you that I met her?”

  “Yes, he said your comments were that she’s pleasant and, pretty and has potential.”

  “To a T. What were your comments last night?” Katherine gazed out the passenger window. Did she really want to know?

  “She had some interesting things to say about your doctor.”

  “Oh.”

  “Supposedly he’s a water sports fanatic. Has a race boat, water skis, jet skis . . . I’ve lost track . . . and evidently a large shop.”

  “And what did you think about Kitty?”

  “She . . .” He patted the wheel. “She said Hungerbottom thinks you’re the one because you showed up due to an accident involving water, and maybe the bathing suit had something to do with it, too. Kitty said that he plans to get in touch.”

  “I asked him, and he said the first time he saw me, I was in a hospital gown.” She leaned back against the head support. “I was also on drugs. I’ve been embarrassed all week by things I’ve heard that I said. I don’t remember a thing.”

  “You were pretty smiley when you called me Zhivago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. I’ve heard that Omar Sharif is one of the, uh . . . most attractive men to ever walk the planet.” He glanced at her. “You were not yourself. You were flirty.”

  “I’m sorry, Quinn. But I don’t want to go antiquing. My head feels swimmy.”

  He nodded and, a half mile later, took a right off the Pullman-Moscow highway. At first, she thought he might just turn around, but instead, he headed east on the scenic back roads, passing the small local airport. He pulled out his cell phone, and speed dialed someone.

  “Here, tell Evans for me. They’re expecting us.” He handed her the phone.

  “How’s our patient?” Evans’s voice came on the line.

  “Hi, Evans. It’s Katherine. I’m not feeling up for it. I’m sorry.”

  “I told him he was too ambitious. You need your rest.”

  “Thank you for understanding.” It was difficult telling two of her favorite people that she wasn’t up for spending time together. She set Quinn’s phone in the console.

  “After we have dinner with Ethel, I’ll take you to my place for a movie.”

  What happened to not seei
ng her until after Miss Palouse? And professor-student relationships? And . . . her head hurt. “I better not. I have a midterm Monday, and I’ve studied very little lately.”

  “As long as you’re on those drugs, you’re going to be too tired to study. You may have to just settle for a couple of Bs and be happy and a bit dingy on the couch watching a movie with me.”

  She looked at her hands. “So Miss Princeton didn’t ring any bells?”

  “No, I’m afraid I did most of the talking last night, and she proved to be a kind listener. I made it to Evans’s house about nine thirty.”

  “Wow—early for a Friday.”

  About a mile past the small local airport, he took a left on a gravel road that ran straight north through miles of rolling green wheat fields toward blue hills in the distance. Twenty feet past a row of mailboxes, he pulled off to the side of the road and shifted into park. No buildings, farmhouses, or tractors were in sight, simply miles of wheat. He left the engine running and the air-conditioning on.

  “I finally know what I want.” He turned to face her, his eyes wide and somber. “I want us to spend more time together, a lot of time. I want it to be just you and me, no other people, no other distractions. No more blind dates, Katherine. And I want you to stop thinking about Ungerbach and get back to who you’ve been thinking about for the entire semester.”

  “Well, Mr. I Want, you’re going to have to wait.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, for one, due to my painkillers, I’m not myself. I can actually look right in your eyes and not feel . . . or even imagine I feel . . . a thing.”

  “Are you saying that’s not usually the case?” His voice sounded like he’d lost sixty pounds.

  Maybe she should not have admitted that. She monkeyed with the buttons for the door lock. Twice, a clicking sound took place. “I’m not going to cancel Monday.”

  “Because of your exam or Ungerbach?”