“Hi there, babe!” a twenty-something woman blares, her breasts barely contained behind the steering wheel. Babe? Who is this woman? How dare she refer to a man of Scott’s prominence as ‘babe’?
“Greta?” Scott sounds surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I remembered you said you would be off today, and I happened to be in the area, so I thought I would stop by… who’s this?” She points a long, red fingernail in my general direction. For a moment, I take pleasure in her jealous tone.
“This is Elle. She’s a patient of mine.” A chagrined expression crosses Scott’s face, as my cheeks burn red. Why am I upset by his choice of words? I am his patient.
Greta turns the knob on the car radio, lowering it a couple of decibels. “Do you always take your work home with you?” she asks sarcastically.
“Elle, this is my friend Greta. Greta, this is Elle.” The introduction is awkward, to say the least. Greta doesn’t even take her hands off the wheel or her eyes off Scott. “Elle is taking a yoga class with my mother.”
“So I see.” She taps her fingernail on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.
“She’s just taking some time out to help me with the horses. Then I have some other work I need to get to.”
“I see.” She sounds miffed. “Elle, you’re a very pretty young woman.” Her condescending tone and droll demeanor reminds me of Cruella Deville.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“You know, Scott,” she sighs, “I was expecting you to be a little more excited to see me. After the night we had together, I just thought…”
The night they had together? What is happening here? I always assumed Scott was too busy with his career to think about having a relationship. I feel like a complete child. If Greta is the type of woman he’s interested in, then it wouldn’t matter if he waited fifty years for me. We would never work.
“Greta, I will call you later,” Scott says abruptly. She pouts her bottom lip like a two-year-old.
“You better, Doc,” she says with a beep of her horn. A second later she peels off, leaving pillows of dust where her car had stood.
Scott can’t even make eye contact with me at first. The image he’s painted of himself as the virtuous doctor is now permanently tainted.
“I’m sorry about that, Elle. I didn’t think she would stop by.”
I continue to walk toward the stables, trying my best to seem unfazed by the whole affair. “Is that your girlfriend?” I ask nonchalantly.
“No. I wouldn’t say that,” he chortles. “You know, Elle, I would appreciate if you don’t mention anything to Jocelyn about Greta being here, okay?” His voice has softened and his eyes look so vulnerable. He reminds me of a nervous child who is afraid of being scolded for sneaking a piece of candy before dinner.
Scott couldn’t be turning me off any faster if he was trying. Here was a grown man, a prominent doctor, who wanted me to keep a secret about a girl from his mother. Gross.
“I won’t say anything.” I look at him for a moment. “Isn’t it hard for you to hide things from her? You know, with her being psychic?”
Scott laughs. A genuine, hardy laugh. “I guess you’re right, Elle. She may already know Greta was here, but I’d rather she discovered it on her own. There’s no need to borrow trouble.”
“I guess Jocelyn’s not a fan of Greta, huh?” I press.
“I don’t think my mother would be a fan of anyone I brought home – you know how mothers can be. And she wants me to focus on my career – she believes women are a distraction.” He takes a breath and turns to face me. “You’ll see. When you start dating, I’m sure your mother will seem like a completely different person.”
“I’ve already started dating,” I blurt. Seriously, where had that come from? It wasn’t even true!
Scott makes a soft grunting noise. “Why don’t we get to that hay?” he suggests at last. I shake my head in disbelief as he walks over to the pile of hay in the barn and retrieves a bale. How could my feelings for him change so quickly? Maybe I had never been in love with him in the first place – just the idea of him I’d created in my head. I’d thought so much about how our relationship had the makings for a great story – the young, handsome doctor who finds a heart for the woman he loves! But I guess there’s more to that story than I wanted to know.
***
By the time I get home from Scott’s, I’m exhausted. I notice it takes a lot less to exhaust me since the transplant. I have to keep reminding myself that I have been through something extraordinary, something that most other people never have to recover from.
The house is quiet. Kate won’t get home from the office for another couple of hours. I sprawl out on the couch, hoping to drift off to sleep. I place one of the throw pillows under my head and prop another under my legs. The nurses at the hospital told me to keep my legs elevated whenever possible. Normally, Mom would freak if I so much as breathed on her throw pillows, but ever since the transplant very few things are off limits for me. I try not to take advantage of the situation, but it has been a welcome change to feel like I’m actually living in my home, rather than tiptoeing through a model.
As I’m about to close my eyes, I see Scooter hop up on the adjoining sofa. He looks at me and blinks his eyes slowly, which is supposed to be cat-speak for affection. Unfortunately, his eye kisses aren’t matching his body language. Normally, I can’t pry him off me, but now he won’t come within two feet. I wiggle my fingers enticingly a few times, but he just turns his head. His tail whips back and forth as he walks away from me.
“Be that way, you naughty cat!” I yell, grateful there’s no one around to hear me arguing with him. I close my eyes and try to rest. Moments later, however, I hear a low, muffled voice. “Elle?” The sound comes to me as if through water. When I was a child, I’d loved to submerge myself underneath the sudsy water and talk gibberish so I could hear the muffled sound of my own voice. “Elle?” The voice startles me again. I try to open my eyes, but can’t. The image of a young girl’s face displaces all my other thoughts. I know immediately that it must be Cas.
Her demure features are partially hidden behind a hood of dark hair that sprays onto her shoulders. Her dark brown eyes gaze intently at me. She reminds me of someone. It only takes a moment for me to realize that she reminds me of myself.
Another face soon comes into focus. It’s the face of a young girl, about five or six years old. Her nose is a little wider and her cheeks are a little fatter. Ringlets of dark hair surround her round face. The girls talk. Although I can’t hear what they are saying, I sense the closeness between them. As I strain to hear their voices, a loud noise suddenly fills my head. It sounds like the crush of metal and shattering of glass. My body jolts and a terrible pain fills my head, worse than any I’ve felt before.
When I regain focus, I see Cas lying on the ground. Her head is bloody. I want to help her, but I can’t move. I can only watch as she belly-crawls along the black pavement, away from what appears to be a car accident. I don’t see the little girl. A sharp pain zips through my head, and I gasp for air. My eyes fly open and I’m struggling to breathe. I sit up and take a deep breath. My head feels like it’s been hit with a sledgehammer. I rub my forehead with my fingertips and pray for the pain to cease. “Cas, what are you trying to tell me?” I mumble.
“Help her.” I hear her voice in my head. An image of a red cross suddenly flashes across my mind. I open the end table drawer and take out a notepad and pen. I clumsily draw a picture of a cross and write the word “help” next to it. Already it feels like a dream, and I don’t want to forget.
I once watched a medium being interviewed on TV who explained how spirits used images to communicate with her. If Cas is going to be sending me images, I will need to learn what they mean. Underneath my drawing of the cross, I write a brief description of my dream. I place my head in my hands and jump a few inches when I hear the ring of the doorbell.
When I open the door to
find Rob standing there with that stupid grin on his face and a six-pack of Gatorade held high in his hand, I throw myself into his arms.
“Hey, what’s the matter?”
I can’t even answer. I bury my face in his chest and, for the first time since I woke from my dream, I realize that I’m shaking.
Rob takes my hand and leads me over to the couch. “Sit down.” He puts his arm around me and I nuzzle my head under his chin. “What’s going on?” he asks softly.
“I’m sorry.” I finally find the energy to lift my head. “I’m just really glad to see you.”
“Thanks. That was some welcome. What’s going on?”
“I fell asleep and I had… a really weird dream. It just freaked me out.”
“Sounds more like a nightmare. It must have really spooked you.”
I nod slowly, trying to puzzle it out.
“When you jumped in my arms, I thought you just liked my new cologne.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You do smell pretty good.” I sniffle.
“Are you going to tell me what it was about?” He puts his hand on my knee and looks into my eyes. “It might make you feel better. After my mom died, I used to have some crazy dreams, and my therapist said it was good to talk about them.”
I smile, hardly believing the gratitude I feel. Rob rarely talks about his mother, although I’ve heard through the grapevine that he did not take her death very well. This is the first time he’s even admitted to me that he saw a therapist.
“Thanks. I know I should talk about what’s going on. It’s just that…” I stop to look at his empathetic gaze. “Okay, do you remember the other day, when you asked me if I knew anything about my heart donor?”
“Yeah.” His brow lifts with curiosity.
“Well, I was dreaming about her. Actually, this isn’t the first time she’s come to me.” I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid to see Rob’s reaction. Slowly, I open them again. Rob looks like his head might explode.
“So you think the ghost, or something of this girl, is what you dreamed about?”
“I know. I know it sounds crazy,” I stammer. “But yes, I think her spirit or whatever is… is trying to reach out to me for a reason.”
“I knew it!” Rob yells excitedly.
“What?” That was not at all what I was expecting.
“I’ve always thought that when you get a transplant, a part of the donor is always with you. And I don’t just mean the actual body part. Once I saw this movie where a guy had another dude’s hand sewn onto his, but he didn’t know that the other guy was a serial killer until he got the sudden urge to kill all people with red hair. Apparently, his donor had some irrational hatred for people with red hair and—”
“Rob, focus. Please.” Usually it’s kind of cute when Rob goes off on these little tangents, but I do not want to think about serial killer hands right now! “All I know is something crazy has been going on… like, from the moment I woke up from surgery.”
“Like what?” Rob asks.
“Well, I heard her call out her own name.” Rob’s brow crinkles slightly, and I can tell he’s confused. “When I woke up from surgery, I wondered about who my donor was. Then, all of a sudden, I heard her name – it just sort of came to me. And when I told my mother, it turned out that the name was right.”
“That’s crazy. Look!” He points to his arms. Every hair is standing at attention.
“I don’t mean to freak you out.” I try to sound comforting.
“No. Yuh – you’re not,” he stutters. “Why do you think she would come to you? I mean, shouldn’t she be resting in peace somewhere?”
“That’s just it.” I swallow hard. “I can tell that she’s not peaceful. Something is wrong and I think she wants my help.” I feel tears fill my eyes.
“It’ll be okay,” Rob says. He puts his arm around my shoulder. “You’ll figure all this out.”
“Thank you.” I’m surprised by how comforted I feel. I rest my head on his shoulder and we scoot to the back of the couch. We are sitting like a couple and, the weird part is, I like it. I don’t want to move. Maybe I am just like all the other girls at school, after all. I look up at Rob and he smiles. I move in closer and am startled when the telephone rings. I quickly pull away and lean over the arm of the couch to pick up the phone.
“Hi, honey.”
“Hey, Mom.” I smile at Rob. For the first time since we’ve known each other, I feel self-conscious.
“How’s everything going over there?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“You’re feeling okay?” She’s using her most maternal tone.
“Yes. Fine.” I hope that one-word answers will hurry her up.
“Listen, if the auto body shop calls about my car, please tell them I got their message and I’ll pick my car up on Friday.” My mother starts to go into way too much detail about her car, and I look at Rob, who is nervously fidgeting with his hat. He bends the rim into a perfect arch.
“Okaaay,” I say impatiently, hoping she’ll take the hint.
“Well, it sounds like you’re not in the mood to talk.” She pauses, waiting for me to say she’s wrong. But I don’t. “Okay, I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“Bye, Mom.”
“Sorry about that.” I place the phone back on the cradle.
Rob takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair.
“I’d better go. It sounds like your mom will be home soon.” He picks up the Gatorade and walks into the kitchen. “I really just stopped in to drop this off.” I hear the clatter of condiments as he opens the fridge. “I figured I owed you guys a few bottles.”
“That was really sweet, but you didn’t have to do that.” I laugh.
He sighs and bites down on his bottom lip, seemingly suddenly so vulnerable. And completely adorable.
“I think I’d better go. Let me know if you need anything.” His tone is serious and, as if suddenly catching himself, he reneges. “You know how much I love this supernatural shit.”
I nod my head and walk Rob to the front door. I want him to stay, but I decide to play it cool.
“I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” he says. I can tell that he is feeling as uncomfortable as I am. Despite all the time we’ve spent together over the years, this was the first time we ever came close to kissing.
“Bye,” I whisper.
After Rob leaves, the phone rings again. The caller ID reads Drake, and I decide to pick up. Riley Drake is not quite a friend, but she is always in the know. She doles out more gossip than TMZ.
“Hello?” I decide not to divulge I know it’s her.
“Hey, Elle, it’s Riley.”
“Hi, Ri.”
“We miss you at school. How are you feeling?”
“I’m hanging in there. The doctors think I can go back to school soon.”
“That’s great, Elle.” Her voice seems sincere. “So have you spoken to your boy Rob lately?” Of course it didn’t take her long to jump on her favorite topic. Riley has had a crush on Rob since freshman year. He’s told me that he has absolutely no interest in her, but I don’t have the heart to tell her that.
“Yeah, he actually just left. Why? What’s up?”
“Did he tell you how he and Jessica Wilson are an item now?”
My heart sinks to my toes.
“What?” I mutter.
“You know, this past weekend at Linda Garcia’s party, they hooked up. Well, I guess you didn’t know.” She giggles. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. I was hoping you had the deets – I know how you two are really tight outside of school.”
A donkey kick – that’s how I’d describe the gut wrenching pain I suddenly feel. Does this feeling mean I am in love with Rob? I never even thought about him that way until today, until just a few minutes before Riley called. Why did I answer the phone? Caller ID was made just to avoid annoying calls like this!
“No, he didn’t say anything to me about it, but he wasn’t real
ly here long.” I try my best to sound blasé.
“Ugh, well maybe I can get some more scoop tomorrow. I’ll just have to fill you in.” Riley sounds disappointed that I don’t have more gossip about the hookup. She doesn’t seem that fazed – maybe she’s moved past Rob. Then again, she is still prying to figure out his relationship status…
Either way, it is apparent to me that I am the one with a crush on Rob – and a broken heart because of him.
She turns the subject to Mr. McGarry, and how she is planning an intervention to help him choose more flattering make-up. As she goes on and on about how contouring is the answer to all his problems, I begin to replay my entire interaction with Rob. He probably came down here to tell me what happened with him and Jessica, not realizing I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. He must think I’m such a flake. I can’t believe I told him about my dream.
“Elle, are you still there?”
“Ri, I hear my mother’s keys in the door,” I lie. “I’ll give you a call back later.” I hang up knowing I have no intention of calling her. But maybe I’ll send her a text.
I make a beeline for my bedroom and lie on my bed. I can’t help but feel sorry for myself. I’ve gotten so used to having Rob all to myself that it’s easy to forget he has a life apart from me. A life I’m missing out on. I place my hand over my heart. “Cas?” I cry. “I hope you gave me a strong heart, because I’m going to need it.” How could my heart be broken twice in the same day? I reach for a tissue from the box on my nightstand and dry my eyes. The time on my alarm clock reminds me that I’m almost due to take my medication.
I walk into the kitchen and open the small cabinet over the dishwasher, where my meds are neatly arranged on a Lazy Susan. I pop open the bottles and place each pill carefully in my palm. Then I toss all the pills into my mouth at once and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. My hand brushes the six-pack of Gatorade that Rob brought over, and I have to force an image of him and Jessica out of my head. As I’m about to walk back into my bedroom, I hear my mother walk in the front door.
The Divine Heart Page 8
