Secrets, Lies, and Online Dating: Three Generations Learn to Love Again (Women's Fiction)

by Sylvia McDaniel

  He grinned. “That’s pretty gutsy, traveling alone.”

  Thinking of the attempted robbery she nodded her head. Sure she got lonely, frightened, and even bored sometimes, but she was at least living.

  “Well, I can’t say I haven’t had a big adventure and I think that’s what I needed. I was dying in that big old house all by myself,” she quietly admitted.

  Paul reached out and patted her arm in a comforting gesture. “I never thought I’d be alone at this time in my life. I thought I’d be a lot older before that happened.”

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “I’m twenty-two. Can’t you tell?” he said, teasing, abruptly making the mood lighter. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Yeah and I weigh 120 pounds.”

  He laughed.

  Brenda tilted her head. “You do see that, right?”

  “Oh yeah,” he admitted.

  Even though she looked like a hot mama at sixty, she still carried a few extra pounds. “Sorry, but at forty I think a woman’s body shifts into matronly mode and the curves become chunks.”

  “Well your chunks are mighty fine,” he said, winking at her.

  “Thank you. I would have hit you if you’d lied and said I was skinny.”

  “At our age, I think I’m just happy to be in relatively good shape with most of my parts still in good working order,” he said, moving the food around on his plate.

  She couldn’t help but agree with him, after witnessing so many friends and family fall ill and just seem to waste away. She hoped when it was her time, she’d just go to sleep and never wake up. She’d be happy if it were that easy.

  “So you never confessed how old you really are.”

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  She shook her head at him. “Keep on telling yourself that and let me know if anyone else believes you.”

  “Okay, so it’s times three,” he said, finishing his meal and pushing the plate away.

  “Sixty-six. Hey, you’re still standing and that’s more than I can say for some people I know.” The others in the room began to clean up.

  “What did you bring to eat tonight?” he asked.

  “Banana Pudding.”

  “Can you cook better than you can fish?”

  Brenda drew her brows together and gave him a mean look. “What’s wrong with my fishing? If you recall, I think I caught more in that spot than you did.”

  “Pshaw! You were fishing in the nursery. The fish I caught were twice the size of yours.”

  She leaned close to him with twinkling eyes. “Listen closely. There’s a lesson you should have learned before now. Size does not matter.”

  Reaching out, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Honey, obviously you’re fishing in the wrong pond because size definitely matters with everything.”

  She stopped and looked at him. “Paul McConnell, I think you’re flirting with me.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?” he asked, stunned. “It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how. How am I doing?”

  She laughed. “Keep it up and you might get lucky. I’ll let you walk me to my camper, if you promise to be good.”

  “Oh, I’m good.”

  “That’s a subject not open for discussion.”

  He grinned. “Not yet anyway.”

  A blush spread across Brenda’s cheeks, like a sixteen-year-old virgin on her first date. “Where are you catching these monster fish?”

  “That’s top secret information. I’d have to kill you if I told you.”

  Brenda yawned. “Get in line. I think two guys are sitting in jail right now, wishing they could get a hold of me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She told him about her catalytic converter thieves and how the police had caught them.

  He laughed when she finished. “You get into all kinds of trouble, don’t you?”

  She shook her head, feeling proud of the way she had lived her life the past four months. The fear and loneliness had lessened to at least livable levels. “Life should be lived and I’m determined to make mine interesting. I didn’t die with George, though at times it seemed that way.”

  He nodded his head as if he understood. “Grief can make you wish you were dead.”

  The room was almost empty. While they’d talked, most people had finished eating and begun to leave.

  Larry walked up to their table. He placed the empty bowl of banana pudding down beside her. He took his finger and ran it along the inside and licked his finger. “I’d pick this bowl up and lick it, but my wife would give me hell, so I’m bringing it back to you to let you know that the next time we have a fish fry, you have to bring banana pudding. I haven’t had good pudding with whip cream since my Mom use to make it.”

  Brenda hadn’t felt so appreciated since before George died. Being here with these people today, she’d felt accepted. Like she’d finally found the right group where she belonged.

  “Thanks, Larry. Maybe I’ll make more and bring it over to you.”

  “Like hell,” Paul said. “I didn’t even get a chance to taste it. Larry ate it all.”

  “Wasn’t my fault that you didn’t get over there in time to get a taste. It was mighty good too.”

  “While I cooked, you ate it all.”

  “You were done cooking when she brought in this pudding,” Larry admonished him.

  “But I hadn’t eaten yet. I was waiting for us to go get dessert,” Paul said, staring at his friend.

  “Too late!” Larry taunted.

  “Boys, I’ll make some more,” Brenda said, laughing.

  “Can I have my own bowl?” Larry teased.

  “After I get my bowl,” Paul insisted.

  A surge of happiness swelled inside Brenda. For the first time in a long time, she’d had fun. No pressure, just good fun. And she liked Paul.

  “After Paul takes me to his secret fishing hole, I’ll come back and make more pudding.”

  “Take her first thing in the morning, Paul. You really need to try this pudding.”

  “Thanks for thinking of me, Larry,” Paul scoffed.

  “What are true friends for,” Larry replied. “Gotta run, here comes the wife and she’s going to give me hell for eating all this pudding.”

  “I guess we should go, since they’ve cleared the building,” Paul said reluctantly.

  “Yes, I guess we should,” Brenda said, standing, not really wanting the evening to end just yet.

  Paul stood and they meandered slowly to the door of the pavilion. “I tell you what, why don’t you meet me at the dock in the morning at six o’clock and we’ll just see who can catch the most fish.”

  “Can’t we catch the nooner fish?” she asked.

  “Nope, early in the morning is the best time.”

  “Okay, but I make no guarantees on my mood and coffee is a requirement.”

  He grinned and turned to leave. “See ya, shortcakes.”

  “See ya,” she said, and began to walk back to her camper, the sound of a bullfrog on the lake calling out for a mate echoing in the night air.

  Tonight, she’d had more fun than she could remember having in a long time. She couldn’t wait to see Paul again. At least this group of people had seemed normal and not just into hooking up. Maybe she’d finally found a place she belonged and a companion to have fun with.

  Marianne watched in awe as the medical personnel bustled around in the emergency room. Her college advisor had assigned her to the hospital as a volunteer to see if she would enjoy working in the medical field. Her first night as a volunteer, and she felt like a first-grader in college. They had assigned another volunteer, an older woman with graying hair, to show Marianne her duties.

  “I’m glad it’s quiet tonight,” Trina said. “Sometimes it can get really busy.”

  “Tell me what you do?” Marianne asked, curious as to how she could help these trained professionals. It seemed her best bet was to stay out of their way.

  �
��Come on and I’ll show you where everything is.”

  Marianne followed Trina to a closet where a cart sat, a thick curtain covering it. She slid back the curtain and revealed sheets, pillowcases, and towels.

  “This is the fresh bedding. When the rooms are empty, I stock them with fresh linens, latex gloves, and some medical supplies.”

  A nurse interrupted them. “Trina, can you run this to the lab for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Marianne watched as Trina pulled latex gloves from her pocket and slipped them on. She took the plastic bag from the nurse. Inside was a sealed cup of urine and the patient’s name was on the outside of the vial and the baggy.

  “Always wear latex gloves whenever you handle any kind of lab work. I take urine, blood samples, everything to the lab for the nurses and I always wear gloves.”

  They hurried to the lab center. “Hey chica, how are you?” the lab technician asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “What have you got for me?”

  “A urine sample that’s a rush,” Trina said.

  “They’re all a rush. Just sign it in.”

  “Bill, this is Marianne. She’s a new volunteer.”

  “Welcome,” he said.

  Marianne watched as Trina signed a sheet on the desk. She wrote the name, the nurse, and the time.

  They returned to the emergency room just as an ambulance backed in. The paramedics wheeled in a stretcher with an elderly woman lying prone. The nurses directed the EMTs into a room and stood by as they unloaded the patient onto the bed.

  Marianne heard the paramedic say a possible stroke victim and she watched as the nurses began to take her vital signs and try to talk to her. The emergency room doctor arrived and asked the patient some questions. The elderly woman didn’t appear to know where she was.

  The doors swished open and a young couple ran in, carrying a baby. “She’s not breathing,” the young mother cried, her face distraught with fear.

  The nurse behind the central desk hurried them into a room. “When did this start?”

  “She’s been running a low-grade fever, but tonight it shot up to 102. We were driving here when she stopped breathing.”

  A second nurse entered the room next door. “Excuse me, doctor, we need you next door. A baby isn’t breathing.”

  He yanked his gloves off and hit the trashcan as he left the room. Marianne tried to watch from a distance to see what he was doing to the baby, but too many bodies blocked her view. Soon the baby screamed and she sighed in relief. Could she watch sick children come in and be treated, possibly even die, day after day?

  She assessed her emotions and realized she didn’t feel ill, only concerned. To lose a child must be the worst thing that could ever happen to a parent, and to witness something so tragic would be heartbreaking.

  The volunteer took her by the arm, “Come on, let’s get back to stocking the rooms. This is how it goes around here. One moment everything is calm and suddenly it gets busy. Or some nights it stays busy.”

  “Does this ever bother you?” Marianne asked.

  The woman thought for a moment. “No. The doctors and the nurses are so good at their jobs and I know I’m helping them. I’m doing menial tasks that they don’t have time for. As for the patients, I’ve seen some really bad accident victims, a burn victim, a lot of sick kids, several heart attacks and strokes, but they all received help when they arrived here and that makes me feel good.”

  “So what else do you do?”

  She led Marianne into a vacated room. A rumpled sheet lay tossed aside on the bed and a nearby tray held several empty vials.

  “We’re going to clean this room.” Trina said as she pulled out fresh gloves and slipped them on her hands. “Again always wear your gloves. Never touch the hazardous waste box. The cleaning crew handles all medical waste.”

  She yanked the sheets from the bed and showed Marianne the dirty linens box. Next, she took a bottle of disinfectant and sprayed the plastic mattress cover. “This disinfectant should kill the germs. Wipe anyplace someone might have touched.”

  She moved to the countertops and sprayed them down. Then, pulled out a fresh sheet and pillowcases from the cabinet. Marianne helped her make the bed.

  As they finished the room, the sound of a siren announced the arrival of another ambulance.

  “Looks like it’s going to be a busy night,” Trina said. “But that’s good. I’ll be able to show you everything.”

  The rest of the night, Marianne and Trina ran specimens to the lab, took a pregnant woman to the maternity ward, cleaned rooms, and generally helped the nurses any way they could.

  At ten o’clock, when her time was up, Marianne went home tired but with a sense of satisfaction. Tonight had been interesting, but did she want to do this for a living?

  Chapter 10

  Katie held the cell phone to her ear, unsure her mother would answer. Marianne had phoned her once after their confrontation at the restaurant, but Katie had told her she was too busy to talk. She wanted to speak to her mother, but she wanted to hurt her as well.

  Marianne had killed Katie’s dreams of her parents ever reconciling. It was the biggest fight they’d ever had and Katie’s dreams had evaporated like vapor into the cold Colorado night sky.

  She wanted to tell Marianne about Jake. She was just a little concerned that her feelings for Jake were taking over too much of her life – her grades were getting worse with every assignment, and she couldn’t seem to stop it. Not that it should matter. Katie was planning a new life. There was so much she wanted to talk to her mother about but couldn’t.

  Their relationship had never recovered since the night she sat Katie down and told her that her parents were splitting. No matter how hard Katie wanted things to be the same between her mother and herself, she didn’t know how to repair the damage. Angry, she wanted her mother to hurt like Katie ached for the life she’d lost.

  The phone rang and her mother answered. A knot formed in Katie’s chest.

  “Hi, it’s me,” Katie said, keeping her voice even.

  “Hi, how’s school?” her mother asked excited.

  Katie paused, then said, “Fine.”

  “Do you have tests coming up before the break?” Marianne asked.

  “Yeah,” Katie wanted the walls around her heart to collapse, but they were too strong and she couldn’t will them away.

  “I have two twenty-page papers that have to be completed before the holidays,” her mother rambled on, her voice chatty.

  “You’ve still got a couple of weeks.”

  “I know, but they’re weighing on my mind. How have you been?”

  “Great,” Katie said, sarcastically.

  “You’re doing okay in school?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dating anyone special?”

  “Not really.” She wanted to tell her about Jake, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Her dreams of starting a life with Jake, getting married and having his babies would not be approved of by her mother.

  Silence filled the airways.

  “How long are you going to be mad at me?” Marianne asked bluntly.

  “I’m not mad,” Katie lied. She just didn’t know how to cope with this new world of her parents. She loved them both and didn’t want to betray either of them.

  “Then why haven’t you called?”

  “I’ve been busy,” Katie responded hurriedly. She wanted to get off the phone and see Jake. She didn’t want to get into a big emotional discussion. It was easier this way.

  “Why did you call?”

  “Dad bought me an airline ticket. I’m going home for Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh,” Marianne said. “I thought since you spent the summer with him, you would spend the holidays with me.”

  “No, I’m going home.”

  A cricket could have been heard during the strained silence.

  “Okay, why don’t we plan on seeing each other the weekend before Thanksgiving?” Marianne said. />
  “Can’t, I’m busy.”

  “Then I expect you the first weekend in December.”

  “That’s too far off. I don’t know what my plans will be,” Katie said, not wanting to commit.

  “Good, you can pencil me in on your busy calendar for the first weekend in December. I’ll see you then.”

  Katie started to protest, but she didn’t want to waste the energy in an argument and Jake was due any moment. She would find an excuse before then.

  “All right, I’ll see you then. I’ve got to run, I’m going out tonight.”

  “Have a good time.” Her mother paused for a moment. “I love you, Katie.”

  “Bye Mom,” Katie hurriedly said, wanting to hang up before the tears fell.

  She disconnected and sank into the chair. Though she hated to admit it, she missed her mom. Katie had a right to be angry. She had a right to be upset, didn’t she? But why did she feel like, in some ways, she’d been wrong? She certainly didn’t know how to apologize if she had been wrong – which she wasn’t entirely sure she was.

  Part of her said, get over it. Her family wasn’t any different from all the other families who had gone through a divorce. She wasn’t the only kid who’d had to deal with dual families.

  She had wanted her parents to be together one more time. Instead, Dad had brought his new girlfriend, and her mother had gotten mad. Everyone seemed to have moved on, except her. At this point, she’d just settle for the tension being gone between all of them.

  Her parents were divorced. They would never get back together again, but she didn’t know how to handle these new arrangements without feeling disloyal to one of them. It was a new world and she was still trying to cope with how to deal with the two of them separately. And so far she was doing a lousy job.

  She realized now she’d screwed up majorly with her mother. After the holidays, she’d find some way to make it right. She just didn’t know how.

  Brenda arrived at the boat dock at five minutes to six. She’d spent a restless night waiting for the alarm clock to buzz, excitement making her too eager to sleep. She was too old to react this way. Sixty-year old women didn’t anticipate a date like a teenager, but that’s exactly how she felt. She liked Paul.