The Vicarage Bench Anthology (She's Me - He's Her - We're One)

by Mimi Barbour

  With a deep sigh, he answered, “Yes, you’re right, of course. Ashley is my brother’s name. I left him in charge, thinking I would only be gone for four days, tops. He bugged me to trust him and leave him as boss while I transported our father’s body here to England for burial. But I wouldn’t have left so much on his shoulders if I’d known I’d be detained longer.”

  Her soft heart heard the misery in his tones and she reassured him. “Not to worry. We’ll be at the hospital soon and, once there, you might see some positive signs. With any luck, I’ll be able to leave you there. Now, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

  She hoped he didn’t take offence at how cheerful she became at the thought of his departure from her personal space. It wasn’t so much that she hated his being with her; she just wanted to see the man reunited. In the quick glimpse she’d had of him, he’d left a lasting impression. He had to be the handsomest man she had ever laid eyes on, and that was with her favorite male cinema idols added into the equation, as well.

  She dressed quickly. Knowing he was aware of her nakedness filled her with an intense shyness, even if he couldn’t see her body.

  Her grandmother was busy wiping the countertops, flitting around the kitchen, humming under her breath, when Carrie glided into the room. “Oh, my goodness, darling, you startled me! What are you doing up at this hour? Why, what a silly question—of course you’ll be going in to the school early. You are so efficient. Those children are lucky to have such a caring and capable person to be their teacher.”

  Catching her breath, she stood with the towel clutched in her tiny, birdlike hands and beamed at her attractive granddaughter. She nodded her head and giggled.

  “Silly me, you’ll be hungry. I’ll just fry up some eggs and make toast for you.”

  Carrie put her arms around the frail shoulders and squeezed. “No, thank you, my love. I’ll eat something at the hosp-, ah, school later. I really must be off now. Bye-bye.”

  * * *

  The white-haired woman gazed out the window, watching her granddaughter walk up the brick path and stop to smell a scarlet rose. A stop she made most mornings.

  The old man approached, his slippers muting the sound of his arrival. “Who were you nattering with? Or are you getting even more dotty, talking to yourself?” The old whinger acted as pleasant in the morning as later in the day.

  “Oh, you silly man. About scared me half to death, sneaking up like that,” Carrie’s grandmother said in the tittering way she knew would annoy him. “I was just saying goodbye to Carrie. She’s leaving early today.”

  “Confound it, where is she going at this time in the morning? Normally the lazy girl hugs her mattress until the last minute.”

  “She’s off to work, and you know very well that she’s never lazy. She sleeps in because she’s usually up until all hours marking papers.”

  What the old woman didn’t tell him was that Carrie had forgotten her briefcase, an unheard of occurrence, and that the school’s doors didn’t open for at least another hour. She also didn’t tell him that their granddaughter had an unusual sparkle in her eyes and that Carrie’s normally brisk steps had slowed to a saunter, revealing a new sexiness in her swaying hips.

  “That girl needs a husband.”

  “That girl’s glowing.”

  “Eh, what?”

  “Nothing, my sweet man, nothing.”

  “Harrumph.”

  Chapter Four

  By the time Carrie arrived at the hospital, she was footsore and sweating and had more adrenaline pumping than she could ever remember feeling.

  “I can’t believe you walked all this way. I told you to take a cab. Look how much time you’ve wasted.”

  “And I told you, if you don’t stop your crabbing I will sit right down and not move. You are the most annoying man. If I explained it once, I’ve explained it a hundred times—I don’t have the money for taxicabs.”

  “Okay, we’ll fix that shortly. Let’s find out what they’ve done with me, and be forceful with these people. It’s what they understand. No wishy-washy, polite chatter.”

  The nurse who approached wore a starched white cap and a uniform that rustled as she moved. She presented a force to be reckoned with. The pin over her left breast showed her to be a staff nurse by the name of Miss Freise.

  In a no-nonsense voice, she questioned, “May I help you?”

  Carrie stiffened her spine both mentally and physically. With utmost charm she said, “Good morning, Nurse Freise. My name is Miss Carrie Temple, and I was with Mr. Parks yesterday when the, um, situation occurred. I’d like to see him for a short while, if at all possible.”

  “Oh, for heavens’ sake!”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Temple, visiting hours won’t be until after lunch. There is no possible…”

  “Nurse, I will see Mr. Parks immediately. I have been instructed, and given authorization, by his brother, Mr. Ashley Parks, to represent the family until such time as he appears. I have promised them a full report with my personal update as to Mr. Parks’ condition this morning. You will take me to him. Now.”

  Carrie sympathized with the nurse, who scurried around the counter and beckoned her to follow. Carrie’s voice had been unrecognizable with his harangue. Even she had trouble accepting that the words, spoken in such a manner, had come from her own lips.

  “That’s how you get things done. Pay attention and learn from the master.”

  “You’re nothing but a big bully.”

  “Maybe, but it works, doesn’t it?”

  The nurse opened the door to a small, stark, private room. White glistened everywhere, from the bedclothes tucked around the sleeping man to the white walls and the white ceramic tiles on the floor. The only relief was provided by the fluttering green leaves of the poplar tree that filled the window at the left of the bed.

  Other than the intravenous drip, the lack of medical equipment puzzled her until she realized the fellow in the bed breathed normally. In fact, he looked to be peacefully sleeping.

  It was obvious the nurses had shaved the sleeping man, as an aftershave, the same one her grandfather used, gave off its spicy odor. Rhett’s dark brown hair, freshly washed and left to dry naturally, had shiny waves curling up at the ends, softening his features. She envied his serene expression.

  There was a definite resemblance to Clark Gable, the actor who played the part of Rhett Butler in the movie Gone with the Wind. Whether this was an illusion the brain played because of the name she wasn’t certain, but except for the missing moustache the man lying in front of her could have been the actor’s double.

  Carrie approached the bed and unconsciously stroked the hand lying nearest her, the gentle pressure indicative of her response to seeing the good-looking brute again. The mixture of sensations—attraction, sorrow and hope—flustered her.

  Suddenly, a force within urged her to grab the peaceful man and shake him silly. Slapping his face from side to side was the desperate act that forced her to take back control. With grim determination, she stepped away from the bed, clenched her hands, and groaned.

  “Will you stop it? Hitting him—you—isn’t going to help.”

  “Okay, yes, you’re right. I have a better idea. Lie down next to me. Maybe if I can get close to my body, I can be absorbed back into it. Anything’s worth a try.”

  “I can’t lie down on the hospital b-…”

  “Just do it. Quick, before Godzilla gets back.”

  Carrie plunked her small handbag and gloves down on the night table and slipped off her black pumps. Lowering the bedrail on her side, she climbed onto the bed and eased herself next to Rhett’s body. Her weight sagged the mattress and had his form rolling over towards her, pinning her smaller shape slightly under him.

  She nudged him back into place with her hand pressed against his chest, and the warmth from his body reassured her. With her eyes closed, she intentionally encouraged the force inside her to take over, willing his essence back into his own body. She melded h
er strength with his.

  Before too long, however, she sighed with discouragement, forced her eyes open, and let her body slump. She scanned the man’s features and lost herself in his charms. His thick eyebrows were shiny and formed around his eyes in a way that made one wonder if he had them shaped.

  “Don’t be foolish. It’s the way they grow.”

  Carrie’s heart raced from getting caught in her speculation. In that moment she realized nothing was sacred. If he wanted to, he could read her every thought. For the first time since being a child, she reacted to a situation without forethought.

  “Sod off! It was a compliment. You have strong features, and your eyebrows add softness to your face. They save you from completely resembling the devil you’re acting like.” Irritation erupted and had her unthinkingly copying her students’ slang, along with the craziest impulse to stick out her tongue and say, “So there!”

  “I thought you’d decided I looked like Clark Gable’s double. Silly woman! Get down quickly. There’s something you must do before we leave.”

  “No!” Being called silly infuriated Carrie. She never acted silly—ever. “I don’t want to do anything more for you. You haven’t appreciated anything I’ve done so far. You just complain.”

  “Sorry, you’re right. But this is important, and it’ll benefit you also. Stop pouting now, and be a good girl.”

  The man’s silver tongue could coax a corpse. Warmth engulfed her.

  “Oh, all right. What now?”

  “Go to the night table and search for my personal belongings. My wallet should be there.”

  “I will not.”

  “Don’t be foolish, it’s my money.”

  Her distaste for his orders was obvious by her actions. Her hands were behind her back, and her whole body swayed from side to side.

  “No!”

  “Carrie, I promise you, it’ll never be missed. There is a secret compartment I had fitted on the inside of my wallet. There are two hundred pounds hidden there, and we can use it to help me. Please, Carrie. I need you to get it out now, before my brother gets here and the hospital gives him all my things. I had a wallet made for him exactly the same, and therefore he will know about the hidden money. We’ll never get a chance at it again.”

  “No! I will not steal, not even for you.”

  “You’re not stealing for me, you’re stealing from me, and it’s at my wish. Carrie, do it! Hurry!”

  “You won’t let me rest unless I do as you say, will you? I’m your chump, your hands and mouth. I detest it! Do you hear me? This is the last thing I do for you against my will, Rhett Parks. Do you understand?” Her mind yelled the whispered words.

  “Yes, yes. Now, quickly, find it.”

  Carrie eased open the night table’s top drawer. Her hands shook, keeping time with the pulse beating in her throat. There, lying next to his watch and comb, was a finely embossed brown leather wallet with R.P. engraved in the corner.

  “Open it, take out the notes, and slip your fingernail right down and under the back leather wall. Wiggle your nail until it finds space, and pull it up and out.”

  Carrie proceeded to follow his instructions, and to her delight the back interior wall of the expensive wallet lifted up. Tucked behind it were the promised two hundred-pound notes. She quickly took them out, slid them into her pocket, and replaced the other money. The wallet was put back precisely where she’d found it. Her heart was racing so hard that she crossed her shaky hands over her chest and took deep breaths.

  The nurse, a romantic at heart, stepped into the room at this precise moment and, assuming Carrie was overcome with emotion at seeing the handsome young man lying motionless in the bed, decided from now on she would treat Miss Temple with more kindness.

  “My dear, please sit down and don’t carry on so. Physically, your young man is doing quite nicely. He’s healthy and in fine form. The doctors are helping him all they can, and they’ve called in a specialist from Harley Street in London. He will be consulting with our own Dr. Andrews, who lives here in Bury and has just returned from a conference in Edinburgh. Therefore, we will have two qualified people to look after Mr. Parks. More good news: we expect his brother to arrive later today.”

  “Thank you, nurse. It is wonderful news.”

  “I’ll get you a hot cup of tea, and you just sit quietly and rest. Since it’s only eight-thirty, we have time before the doctors do their morning rounds.”

  As soon as she heard the time, Carrie flew into a tizzy.

  “Thank you, nurse, but I can’t stop for tea right now. I must get to work. I’m already late. I’ll come by this evening, if I may.”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  Carrie grabbed her belongings off the bedside table and fled from the room, from the kindly nurse, and from the body of the man who tugged at her heartstrings. The solitary fellow lying there made her feel things she’d never experienced before. Careful not to dwell on any of her reactions, knowing her internal guest would pick up on her speculations; she cleared her mind and sped to the nearest bus stop. She was so late.

  Chapter Five

  “Bloody hell, they can’t beat you for being late. It happens.”

  “Not to me, it doesn’t. I’ve never been late a day in my life.”

  “Carrie, I could applaud your dedication, if I didn’t abhor your reasons.”

  “I like being on time.”

  “You’re afraid to be late, you mean. Your heart is beating ridiculously fast just thinking about what’s waiting for you. Your principal, what’s his name…?”

  “Mr. Browning.”

  “Yes. This Mr. Browning comes across to me as a real jerk. Otherwise the reactions you’re expecting from him wouldn’t terrify you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a person who likes to be on time. I hate it when I’m in the wrong, and I am if I’m late.”

  “There are extenuating circumstances, woman. If you were late day after day, then maybe I could understand your fears. But you’re not.”

  “No, not ever.”

  Carrie scurried through the halls of the quiet school and slid to a halt outside the door of her classroom. Her palms were wet, her stomach ached with nerves, and her whole body broke out in a cold sweat. She quickly brushed back the soft, curly tendrils of her hair and tried sticking them under the braid that formed a halo around her pale face. She patted the skirt of her grey suit, wiped her hands, and purposely took a cleansing breath.

  “Go in, already. No one’s going to eat you.”

  “As if you know or care.” Where did this attitude come from? It must be her nerves making her act up. She never behaved like this.

  “Oh, I care. Believe it.” The firm way he sent her the message clarified his meaning. He did care, and knowing that stiffened her backbone.

  Slowly she opened the door, peered into the room, and saw the tyrannical principal bent over her drawer while he searched through her belongings. Each child sat stiffly at attention, fingers laced in front of them, held rigid on their desks. The little monsters never behaved with such politeness when she was in charge.

  Carrie cleared her throat and stepped into the room. All eyes were immediately upon her. In the silence, loud and overpowering, she cleared her throat again. “Good morning, class. Good morning, Mr. Browning.”

  Like angels, the students smirked and replied in unison, “Good morning, Miss Temple.”

  Mr. Browning stood up and came towards her, at the same time barking his orders. “You lot, read the next ten pages in your readers, and not a sound out of you. I’ll be right outside the door. Come with me, Miss Temple.” He grasped her arm and manhandled her into the hallway.

  “Son of a…”

  “I’m terribly sorry I’m late. I had to go to the hospital…”

  “Yes, I’m sure you have a reason for your lateness, but there really isn’t one I can accept, so don’t bother telling it to me. I expect my teachers to be on time, or to call me in or
der to arrange for their absence with plenty of notice. To just not show up is inexcusable—unacceptable. I have a great many responsibilities, which demand my personal attention. I’m not impressed by having to take time out of my busy schedule and stand in for you. Miss Temple, I’m truly disappointed in this behaviour, and I…”

  “Mr. Browning! Enough! Do not talk to me in this way, or you’ll be teaching this class for the rest of the day yourself. A very ill friend needed me at the hospital. Once I became conscious of the late hour, I rushed here as fast as I possibly could. So either remove yourself and let me get on with my job or fire me.”

  “Atta girl.”

  It seemed that Rhett was either a good teacher or a bad influence. Carrie gulped at the end of her speech. It had come straight from her, spoken in a voice she’d never used before. She wasn’t aware she could speak with such force, but this morning was chock full of surprises. It was an obvious revelation to Mr. Browning, also. He stepped back, his mouth opening and closing in a comical way that reminded her of a pet guppy she’d bought as a child and kept hidden in her room.

  “I beg your pardon?” His voice all but squeaked.

  He was a small, compact man, with a small mouth, small hands and a small personality. His only saving grace was the wonderful head of blond hair he plastered down with Brylcreem each day. He’d had a crush on Carrie for years. The teaching staff joked as to which year he’d finally stop eating her up with his sly puppydog ogling and foster enough gumption to ask her out on a date. The man was a strange mix, male shyness cowering behind a bully’s character. Unfortunately, his small-minded meanness might have destroyed his chances now. He shocked them both with his reaction to her changed behaviour. He backed right off, literally stepping backwards.

  Carrie, reverting, had to fill the long silence. “I’ve never been late before, Mr. Browning. I am sorry to be a bother and to have inconvenienced you. Truly!”

  Now this sounded more like the woman he had come to know, the woman he’d lusted over for years.

  “Yes, it’s most unfortunate you didn’t call. But since you’ve never done anything like this before, we will forgive you this time, Miss Temple.”