by Nesly Clerge
“Won’t get any argument from me. But I like to be an optimist. Maybe your luck will change.”
“Probably around the same time one of my novels becomes a best-seller.”
“So, sometime next week.”
Luke shook his head. “Maybe you can afford to be an optimist. Despite Brandi’s assessment of me, I’m a realist.”
“In my experience, we’re too easily fooled, by others or ourselves.”
“I write fiction. I know the difference.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. What’s real right now is that this break’s over.”
CHAPTER 27
James’s words had stung. Because there was truth to them. Sure, he understood where Brandi was coming from, but as he’d told James, she knew what was what when she dated him then hounded him to make their relationship official. She’d said what they earned together would cover everything, plus his child support payments. That they’d live modestly until he was a successful author. Then he could buy her a big house with a huge landscaped lawn in a ritzy neighborhood.
Many nights, though it had been a while, they’d snuggled in bed after making love, and he’d talk about his dreams and listen to hers. He told her it might take a while to make it big, possibly longer than they’d like, but when he did …
She’d employed the old trick of blowing proverbial smoke up his ass. Patronizing him for her own purposes, not meaning a word.
Brandi had never written more than a financial statement or a check or a grocery list. No way she could understand the time and energy it took to be a writer who readers wanted to follow. She didn’t appreciate what was involved. What was required of him. She didn’t appreciate him.
Some writers had a need to feel tortured in order to be creative and productive. Not him. Encouragement inspired him to do better. To aim higher. If only she’d grasp that fact.
During his next break, he slid his phone from his shirt pocket and logged on to Goodreads. There was a new message from Chelsea Hall.
No apology necessary, Luke. Someone with your gift should never let anyone discourage him. Every author who became known started out unknown. Every great writer was a beginner. Thank you for your lovely comment—a port in a storm. With appreciation so lacking these days, especially in our homes, I feel more like I’m on a rowboat in a storm, struggling against the odds to reach a safe haven. Seems you and I are in the same boat (grin—or should that be a frown?).
How long had it been since anyone had engaged in such conversation with him? Brandi couldn’t. It wasn’t in her.
Chelsea, thank you for the encouragement. But I am dismayed—a woman as beautiful as you, and obviously kind, deserves to be given every reason to smile, and to be appreciated. Please forgive me. It’s not my intention to flirt and cause you discomfort. I merely mean to admire you in a respectful manner.
He hit Send. And thought about what he’d written.
You’re acting like a fool.
He shut his phone off.
There had to have been an accident somewhere ahead. The traffic was backed up. No one was moving. Luke shifted from Drive to Park, pulled his phone from his shirt pocket and searched for Chelsea on Facebook. Her page was set to Private. He switched to Goodreads. There was a reply from her.
Luke, I took no offense at your compliment. If you meant to make me smile, you succeeded. And I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but I return your compliment. Good face, warm eyes that reflect your sensitivity. The way you write tells me you understand love—what it isn’t and what it should be.
Now was the time for caution. Now was the time to put a halt to this type of exchange. There was nothing worth attaining at the end of that road.
Thanks, Chelsea.
She’d see his response as curt, and she’d be right; though, the last thing he wanted to be with her was rude. He added two additional words: Much appreciated.
Traffic remained stalled. He dropped his phone into his pocket and stared at the cloudless blue sky. The same cerulean blue as her eyes, if the photo was accurate. Only one way to find out.
Stop it.
His phone was in his hand again. Chelsea’s message was on the screen again. He drank in every word then scrolled back and reread each of their exchanges. Until several cars behind him blasted their horns. Traffic had started to move. People behind him wanted to get where they were going; he was holding them up.
He understood their impatience and frustration.
Luke parked his car in front of his home, turned the engine off, and remained inside. Each day it took him longer and longer to leave a vehicle that could facilitate his escape, away from what he knew waited for him inside those walls.
He felt walled in. Caged. Trapped.
The curtain of his office window shifted slightly. Time to face whatever awaited him inside.
Brandi was at the desk computer in the office. He wanted his laptop. There was no way to avoid her.
“What’s up?” he said.
“Sending my resume to accounting firms.” She motioned with her head toward a small stack of envelopes to her left on the desk. “Those are for you.”
Luke picked up his laptop and the envelopes then headed for the basement. He set both next to the opened bottle of tequila. There was just enough of the pale golden liquid left to fill the shot glass. He put the bottle to his lips and drank the contents in one gulp.
He rested back and thought about what James had asked him: What are you going to do about Brandi? A valid question. Now all he needed was a valid answer.
He’d tried to make Brandi happy. Make? Keep? Was he really responsible for her happiness? He didn’t feel she was responsible for his. But life was more joyous if shared by two people who were on the same page of life. Who cared about the happiness of their partner. That was the crux of it. They weren’t on the same page about that. Nor had they ever been. Not really.
Fulfillment derived from doing something creative, and doing it well, made him happy. Lots of things made him happy. Money, it seemed, was the only thing that would satisfy Brandi. The only way he could accommodate her was to sacrifice himself.
How would he feel about doing that, in order to save his marriage?
I’d rather open a vein, he said aloud.
CHAPTER 28
Garrett loaded the film into the view box and pressed the red button on the recorder. “Degenerative changes are noted at the level of L4 and L5. Osteophyte formation is also noted at multiple levels, indicative of—” He hit the Stop button and told whomever had knocked on his closed door to come in.
One of the new residents stuck his head in. “Sorry to bother you, Dr. Hall.”
“Not a problem, Kozier. How can I help?”
Kozier pulled out an MRI from the manila folder in his hand. “Heard you’re one of the best. Hasn’t been a case you couldn’t solve, and all that. I hope that’s accurate because this one’s challenging me.”
Garrett took the image and held it up to the light. “What’s the history?”
“Seventeen-year-old male. Football player with sacroiliac pain aggravated by activities. No documented injury. X-rays were negative. And this MRI, from what I can see, is also negative.”
Garrett exchanged the previous film in the view box with the MRI and studied the image. He pointed. “See this opacity near the sacral region? It’s quite faint. Takes a trained eye to see it. It’s usually indicative of some type of stress. I’m thinking a possible pars fracture. Often hard to detect. Have radiology run a bone scintigraphy.”
“I see it now. Makes sense. Thanks, Dr. Hall.” Kozier retrieved the MRI and walked to the door. “Want me to close this?”
Garrett nodded. He was acclimating to his new position as department head. Dr. Logan’s anticipated retirement the following year had been moved up to immediately when his wife became ill. The job was more demanding than his predecessor had led him to believe, but he was up to the challenge.
His cell phone rang. “Chels. What’
s up?”
“Let’s do something special tonight.”
“Wish I could. Have to work late.”
“You said this job would allow you to work less.”
“You know how important it is for me to find another doctor for my practice. The process is involved, for good reason. Along with that, I’m still getting my bearings here.”
“I know, but—”
“Logan’s exit was hasty. For good reason, as you know. Still, there was no training. Just a ‘Sorry, my boy. But call me with any questions.’ I mean to do whatever it takes to impress the board so I keep this position and the raise that comes with it.”
Chelsea stayed silent.
Garrett rolled his eyes. “They chose me over Williams or anyone else from outside who was qualified. C’mon, Chels. You know it’s crunch time for me.”
“Foolish of me to expect anything else. I’ll find something to do. Alone. Again.”
Garrett pressed the phone hard against his ear. He hated when she whined. “I promise to make it up to you. Soon as I can. Sorry, babe. Someone’s at my door. See you later.” He ended the call without waiting for her to say goodbye. Why wait to hear another disgruntled word from her. When had she gotten so needy?
His cell phone rang again. His anger rose. What else was she going to rag on him about?
Caller ID displayed the name Dr. Kent. About time she returned his call. His smiled stretched wide. He answered with “If you’ve got an itch, I’ve got the motion. And, I make house calls.”
“I was wondering when you’d call again, and how convenient that you did. Because I need a specialist’s expert touch. Please tell me you called because you’re available this evening.”
“Available is my first, middle, and last name.”
“But no house call. It’s the suite or nothing.”
“How does seven thirty work for you?”
“Don’t make me wait.”
“I only make you wait until you can’t stand it another moment.”
“You’re so bad, Dr. Hall.”
“And you’re so glad I am, Dr. Kent. See you then.”
Dr. Jacobs was still his favorite. Because theirs was a unique arrangement. Even after all the years they’d been playing together, he wasn’t bored with her. He never knew what she was going to come up with.
But every now and then, he needed something different. There was only one thing he’d requested that Dr. Jacobs refused to do. So far. He held out on persuading her one day. But not for the full-length mink coat she wanted in exchange. Not when it was so easy to get what he wanted from someone else who was willing.
He sent a text message to Dr. Kent.
Bring a friend.
CHAPTER 29
Garrett called the hotel to confirm that his usual suite would be held for him. His anticipation of playtime with Suzanne, also known as Dr. Kent, and whichever friend she brought with her, amplified as the minutes ticked by.
At six fifty-nine, he got into his car, cranked the engine, and started for the highway that would take him south. At five after seven, his phone rang. His jaw clenched when he checked caller ID. “What is it, Richard?”
“Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?”
“Last time I checked, you’re the only one. What do you want?”
“You in a rush or something?”
“I’m at work, and I’m busy. I got promoted earlier than expected.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks. It also means my workload’s tripled.” An eighteen-wheeler whizzed by in the right lane; the driver blared his horn.
“Sounds like you’re in your car.”
“Richard. The point?”
“I called at the house and Chelsea said I’d find you at the hospital. But you’re not there, are you?”
“I’m running an errand then going back. If you want to play the insinuation game, I’m not in the mood.”
“You’re very touchy, Garrett.”
“Ticktock, ticktock.”
“Fine. I called to invite you to our church this Sunday. Anna’s getting baptized.”
“I thought I made it clear: I’m not religious.”
“You don’t have to be to attend and show a little family support. But, Garrett, it’s time you consider giving your life to the Lord. Get forgiveness for the stuff you’ve done, especially to Chelsea. It’ll keep you from going back to your old ways.”
Garrett mumbled, “Self-righteous bastard.”
“Say again. I missed it.”
“I said I need to go.”
“Sure. But first—”
Garrett ended the call. A glance at the digital dashboard clock showed it was seven ten. He swore when the car’s Bluetooth picked up another call.
CHAPTER 30
“Chloe. What is this? Family decided to call and harass me all at once?” Garrett slowed as he approached the highway exit ramp.
“Hello to you, too, G. What are you going on about?”
“Nothing. Talk fast. I’m in a hurry.”
“You should always have time for your sister.” When Garrett stayed silent, she continued. “I need your help.”
“I don’t mind helping you, but as I’ve said a million times, you need to do something constructive with your life.”
“If you’re going to lecture me, I’ll hang up.”
Garrett shook his head. “How much do you need?”
“Not much. Two thousand.”
“That’s not nothing, Chloe.”
“I’ve seen you spend that and more for a jacket.”
“Do you really want to go there?”
“Sorry. That was out of line. Because I’m frustrated. I ran into some problems with the rent and a few bills. I swear I’ll pay it back.”
Garrett rubbed a vein that started to throb in his left temple. How many times had she made the same oath? Twenty? Thirty? “I’ll transfer the funds tonight.”
“Thanks, G. I appreciate you coming through for me.”
“You can’t keep going on like this. Come live at the house. We have the room. I’ll pay for you to learn a trade. Something useful that’s lucrative. We’ll get you into a good school.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re my little sister. I love you. There’s no reason your life has to be so screwed up when you have two brothers doing well and are willing to help you get on track.” After several seconds of silence he said, “Chloe?”
Chloe’s voice raised an octave. “This is why I didn’t call Richard. He’s always preaching and getting into my business. I thought you’d be different. I didn’t call you for advice or a damn lecture. Just forget it.”
“Wait.” He rubbed his face. This wasn’t what he needed right now. “We give advice because we care.”
“When’s the last time you listened to anyone’s advice, much less followed it?”
“This is getting us nowhere. I’ll get the money into your account as soon as possible, which will be sometime later tonight.” He heard her harrumph. “We’ll talk more about this later.”
Garrett prayed in his own way, for the phone to stay silent. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator and pulled into a parking slot at seven twenty-five. Five minutes to relax and decompress. And get back into the mood.
At seven thirty, a car parked next to his. He got out of his car and leaned over to look at the two women inside the Audi.
This was going to be better than good.
He got his jacket from his backseat and held it in front of him. With a woman on each arm, he took the steps that would lead to his version of nirvana.
CHAPTER 31
Chelsea sat on the edge of her side of the bed. She opened the nightstand drawer, to retrieve Dr. Moore’s book, which she placed on her lap. Would anything in the contents make a difference? It was doubtful, but what else was left?
The blurb had been crafted to entice readers, with a promise to solve their problems and fulfill their needs and
wants. She flipped through the first few pages, checked segment titles, scanned a few paragraphs. The last thing she felt like doing was reading, even though there was no telling what time Garrett would be home. Just that it would be late. As usual.
The book was exchanged for her laptop computer. An online search revealed that Dr. Moore’s office was only fifteen or so minutes away. A click on the Schedule icon brought up a secure appointment calendar. She picked a date and time, entered her name and phone number. A small battle went on inside her then she hit Send. Moments later, a confirmation e-mail appeared in her in-box.
Garrett was working late, or so he’d said, and Kimberlie was doing a study sleepover at her friend Susan’s house. Were it not for her daughter’s high grades, she’d wonder how much studying was actually getting done.
The house should have felt large with only her in it. Instead, it felt constrictive.
Maybe she should call Penelope for a girl’s night out. If, that is, Pen didn’t have a date, which she usually did. She picked up her phone then changed her mind. No reason to get Pen to babysit her because she felt like having a pity-party. She did that often enough as it was. Plus, when they went out together, Pen tended to attract people she wasn’t in the mood to deal with—men looking for something for nothing more than the price of a few drinks.
Nor did she always want to disturb Richard with her complaints, not that Anna ever said anything. Just hugged her with a sympathetic expression on her face whenever they showed up at the same place.
Chelsea went downstairs to the kitchen, poured a glass of merlot, returned to her bedroom, and turned on the TV.
Garrett had promised the promotion would give him more time to spend with her. He’d said he was getting used to the new position, but she doubted that even once he acclimated, he’d make time for her.
She seriously doubted he was working. She could call at the hospital to check up on him. It was almost a sure bet they’d tell her he wasn’t there. They’d wonder why she didn’t know. They’d know she was a fool.
He’d promised to love, cherish, and adore her. One thing she could rely on him to do was break his promises.
