Prescription For Love

by Boeshaar, Andrea

  Ravyn clenched her jaw. Now what was this all about? He’d acted curt to Ravyn—why? So he could rendezvous with Carla?

  She chided herself for thinking the worst, but then it occurred to her that she never wholly trusted Mark because she never could quite believe that Shelley had lied so many years ago.

  As she stood in the hall, memories came rushing back—Shelley’s incessant prattle about how madly in love she was with Mark and then her tears when he broke her heart. As great an actress as Shelley might have been then or may be today, Ravyn didn’t think anyone could feign such pain and despair.

  So did that mean Mark was a philanderer with an incredible façade or had Shelley been a misguided teenager?

  As Ravyn spied his ongoing discussion with Carla, she couldn’t help but suspect he wasn’t as upstanding and genuine as he appeared. Maybe there was something to his nickname “George” after all.

  Disappointment rocked her soul. The Daniels and the Gideons of the Bible just didn’t exist in this day and age.

  Carla cleared her throat and Ravyn snapped to attention. Mark turned in his chair.

  Ravyn avoided his gaze. “Dr. Thomas is looking for the portable ultrasound machine.” She forced a sturdy tone. “Have either of you seen it?”

  Both shook their heads and when Ravyn glimpsed Mark’s expression, she noted he didn’t even have the good grace to look guilty.

  That’s the stuff creeps are made of, she thought, turning on her heels and walking away. Continuing her search, she finally located the machine and wheeled it to the patient’s room where she absorbed herself in her work. Mark’s residency couldn’t end fast enough as far as Ravyn was concerned.

  But now she was more determined than ever to visit Shelley and hear the truth from her former friend’s lips. Once and for all.

  ❧

  “You know she’s jealous, don’t you?”

  Mark looked away from the now empty doorway where Ravyn had stood moments ago and regarded the smirk on Carla’s face.

  “Ravyn’s a Christian, too,” he explained. “Believers feel the same emotions everyone else does. But we have something more to help us overcome the destructive ones, like envy and jealousy. We have our faith in Christ.”

  “So what’s your point?” Carla sat back in her chair.

  “My point is, Ravyn will get over whatever is eating at her. And if you have questions in the future about what we discussed here, I hope you’ll ask her.”

  “Why would I do that? She hates me.”

  Mark shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. Ravyn was genuinely concerned about you the night you fell and hit your head.”

  Carla’s blush surfaced through her suntanned cheeks. “Must you keep bringing that up?”

  “Carla, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’re teetering on a very slippery slope. Your behavior is going to get you hurt—or killed.”

  “I don’t have a drinking problem, all right?” She folded her arms. “I just. . .like to have a good time. What girl doesn’t?” A provocative smile curved her full lips. “And if you weren’t so religious—”

  “Time for me to go.” Mark stood. “Just remember, everything I told you is in the Bible. You can look it up for yourself and you can ask Ravyn. She might seem like a tough cookie,” he added with a grin, “but she’s all marshmallow inside.”

  “For your sake, I hope that’s true.” Carla laughed.

  Mark silently agreed as he made his way to the front of the ER. Ravyn hadn’t exactly looked pleased, not that he took any pleasure in the fact she was jealous. However, it did affirm what he felt in his heart: he and Ravyn had strong feelings for each other.

  Unfortunately, they were miles apart in their ideals and philosophies. Ravyn had pointed out that fact from the beginning.

  Mark decided God had a lot of work to do and, humanly, it seemed impossible. In a matter of days, Mark would leave for the rest of the summer with only short stops at his great-aunt and uncle’s place through the fall. He would, of course, see them during the Christmas holiday. Then come January, he’d be gone for what might as well be forever where he and Ravyn were concerned.

  And by the looks of it, she wasn’t speaking to him—at least not verbally. But the angry sparks shooting from her eyes might rival the upcoming Fourth of July fireworks.

  Mark leaned against the counter near the unit clerk’s desk where Ravyn wrote in a patient’s chart.

  “It’s not what you think, okay?” he ventured.

  “Okay.”

  Yeah. That was way too easy, Mark thought with a facetious bent.

  He blew out a sigh but chose not to press the issue. Not here. Not now. He’d let Ravyn cool off awhile. He wanted to leave Dubuque knowing that at least the two of them were on good terms.

  After that, it was all up to the Lord.

  ❧

  Ravyn packed her car, then slid behind the steering wheel and began her weekend trip to Chicago. According to the map she’d printed off the Internet, the drive would take about four hours.

  Turning onto U.S. 20, she sped across the High Bridge, also known as the Julien Dubuque Bridge. It was a steel, arched structure that spanned the Mississippi River and connected the state of Iowa with Illinois. As she continued on toward the interstate, Ravyn marveled at how quickly she’d been able to make arrangements for this trip. She’d swapped a few shifts with two other RNs, and since everything came together so smoothly, Ravyn knew it just had to be God’s will that she visit Shelley. She felt the Lord’s leading in this. She rejected the inner nudging that she’d planned this trek in order to spite Mark and, regardless of his warning, she was going alone. She convinced herself, and not for the first time, that she didn’t care what he said, did, or who he talked to.

  No, what mattered now was that finally, after a decade, Ravyn would finally learn the real truth.

  Fifteen

  After checking into a hotel and dropping off her belongings in her room, Ravyn climbed back into her car. She’d asked for directions to Shelley’s place, and the clerk behind the front desk had warned her that she was heading into a rough part of the city. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel now, Ravyn wondered if she should go. Obviously, Shelley wasn’t as successful as Ravyn imagined.

  But she’s in trouble and I want answers. Ravyn decided that, in a sense, she and Shelley needed each other.

  Her resolve gelled, and Ravyn stuck her key in the ignition. Within a half hour, she was maneuvering her car through downtown Chicago. Twice she turned right instead of left, but finally she found Shelley’s address.

  She stared through her window at the dirty, brown brick building that contained an establishment called The Sunset Grill on its lower level. Ravyn assumed Shelley’s apartment was upstairs.

  She got out of her car before she lost her nerve. Loud music blared from a car stereo somewhere down the street, and several feet away two shaggy-haired men in muscle shirts hovered beneath the hood of an automobile that had obviously seen better days.

  Ravyn scurried to the brown wooden door at one end of the building and rang the doorbell. The smell of deep-fried food lingered in the air. She prayed for God’s protection and tried not to second-guess her decision. Feeling nervous at no answer, she knocked on the door.

  A waitress came out of the diner, wearing a grubby striped apron over a white tank top and red shorts. She was reed thin, and her dyed reddish blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing an inch or so of her natural light brown roots. Her hazel eyes sparkled with question—and then recognition set in.

  “Ravyn!”

  She blinked, fighting the shock. “Shelley?”

  “Oh, thank God you came. I didn’t think you would.” Shelley stepped forward and wrapped her bony arms around Ravyn. She smelled of grease and cigarette smoke, and Ravyn almost choked.

  She politely pulled back and stared up into her former friend’s gaunt face. Words failed her. Shelley was a mere shadow of the healthy, vibrant fri
end Ravyn remembered. This woman looked twice her age.

  “My son told me someone was at the door.”

  “Son?”

  Shelley nodded. “I’ll introduce you.” She removed her apron. “Let me tell Flint I’m leaving.”

  “Flint?” Ravyn felt like an echo, but she could barely think straight. Was Shelley ill? Was she dying? She didn’t look well.

  “Flint owns this dive. Now, wait right here. Don’t leave, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  Against her better judgment, Ravyn complied. Moments later, Shelley returned, expletives following in her wake. Ravyn didn’t think she’d ever heard such blue language.

  “Ignore him. Flint’s a creep. He’d have me working twenty-four hours a day if he could.”

  Shelley unlocked the adjacent door, then took Ravyn’s elbow and steered her inside. The air in the tall stairwell that led to the second floor felt hot against Ravyn’s skin, and that prevailing smell of grease seemed to ooze from the faded green walls.

  When they reached the top of the steps, Shelley unlocked another door and bid Ravyn entry. Although tidy, the sparse living room had a dingy feel to it and smelled of stale cigarette smoke.

  “Flint lets me rent this furnished apartment. He supposedly takes the money out of my paychecks, but in six months of working for him, I haven’t seen a cent and when I asked about it. . .” She shook her head. “Let’s just say things got ugly. So I’m living off the tips I earn and, believe me, that’s not a lot.”

  “But you have an agent, so I thought—”

  “He gets me gigs doing exotic dancing at nightclubs. He’s a lousy agent.”

  Ravyn didn’t know what to say.

  “But I quit dancing years ago. I’m really trying to clean up my act, pardon the pun.”

  A husky little boy suddenly barreled into the room but stopped short at seeing Ravyn.

  “Marky, this is the friend I told you about.”

  “Is she going to help us?”

  “I haven’t asked her yet.” Shelley’s tone held an incredulous note. “Give us a chance to get reacquainted, will you?”

  The kid shrugged at the reprimand and eyed Ravyn. However, her mind hadn’t gone much further than the child’s name. Marky? Tension began throbbing at her temples as she took in his nut brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes. His face looked flushed and Ravyn thought the temperature in the apartment had to be nearing one hundred degrees.

  “He looks like his dad,” Shelley said, sounding chagrined.

  Ravyn felt sick.

  “Marky’s ten. You can do the math and figure it out.” Shelley waved a hand at her son. “Go in my room and watch TV so me and Ravyn can talk in private.”

  The boy wrinkled his face at the request, but he obeyed.

  “I was pregnant when I left Dubuque.”

  Ravyn turned on her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you’re so good, Ravyn. Whenever I watch Gone with the Wind I think of you. You’re like Melanie, always looking out for everyone else—”

  “Oh, please.” Ravyn rolled her eyes. “There’s no similarity. Trust me.”

  “But that’s how I’ve always seen you, Rav. And, to the contrary, I’m a Scarlet O’Hara. I knew what I did was wrong, but I loved Mark so much that I gave in to what I wanted instead of doing what was right.” She had the good grace to look ashamed of herself. “I’ve continued that pattern ever since, I’m afraid.”

  Ravyn’s stomach churned.

  Shelley expelled a weary breath. “When my parents found out I was pregnant, they sent me away to live with my dad’s cousin in Florida. Mom and Dad were embarrassed and told all their church friends that I had some weird flu. That’s why you took over my role in the play, remember?”

  She nodded. How could she forget?

  “I hated it at Aunt Petunia’s house. That was her name. I’m not kidding. Petunia. But, unlike the flower, she wasn’t pretty. She was a mean old biddy who arranged my son’s adoption and never once asked me how I felt about it. So, before Marky was born, I ran away with a guy I’d met. He had some friends in Arkansas, so that’s where we went. Then, after Marky entered the world, Pete dumped me and things have spiraled downhill from there.” Shelley’s laugh had a bitter edge to it. “As bad as it sounds, it got worse.”

  “I–I’m sorry to hear that.” Ravyn struggled to process the information.

  “I didn’t dare go back to Dubuque. I figured everyone I knew hated me. Besides, by that time my parents had moved to Florida to be near Aunt Petunia, who was ailing with something or another. I forget.”

  “People in Dubuque would have understood and forgiven—even helped you. My family would have taken you in.”

  “Not according to my mother. She lived in constant fear her neighbors and church friends would discover she had an illegitimate grandson, and she had me believing I could never go back.” Shelley’s lips formed a grim line. “Incidentally, my parents disowned me a long time ago.”

  She motioned for Ravyn to sit down on the couch and then called for Marky to bring them each a can of diet cola and a glass filled with ice.

  “I’ve been battling a, um, drug problem,” Shelley further admitted. “But I’ve stayed clean now for over three months. It would have been longer, but Flint. . .” She shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s just say he’s not exactly a good example for me.”

  “He gives you drugs?” Ravyn felt outraged and appalled, although she’d heard similar stories in the ER and even before she’d started working at Victory.

  Shelley nodded in answer to her question. “But a couple of guys from the rescue mission come into the diner almost every day. They’ve been encouraging me.”

  Marky reentered the living room, balancing the items his mother requested on a round serving tray.

  “Want me to pour?” he asked, looking eager.

  “No. Get back in my room—and don’t try to listen in on our conversation, either.”

  The boy frowned at his mom before stomping off.

  “Thanks, Marky!” Ravyn called to his retreating form.

  “He’s a good kid,” Shelley said. “Takes care of me.”

  Ravyn found herself empathizing with the boy. After all, she’d taken care of her parents.

  “I take it Mark doesn’t know he has a son.”

  “Oh, he knows.” Shelley took a long drink of her cola. “That’s one of the first things I did is slap a paternity suit on him. He’s supposed to send a check every month, but he doesn’t have any money.”

  Ravyn tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat. “He knows? But. . .that can’t be.”

  “It’s true. Why are you so surprised? He’s always been a womanizing jerk.”

  Disbelief showered over Ravyn. Mark knows?

  A long minute passed in silence, then Shelley spoke again. “Look, I need some help. I’ve got to get out of here and I can’t go to the mission. Not with Marky. Trust me, it’s no place for a kid.”

  Ravyn blinked and tried to push aside her shock long enough to listen.

  “All the friends I’ve made are—well, the wrong kind of friends, if you know what I mean. I just want to leave Chicago forever. I need to find a real-paying job and get Marky in a good school before he—he ends up like me.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Get me out of here, Ravyn. Please.” Shelley leaned forward. “When you called last week I began to think there really is a God in heaven.” She twirled the sweating glass in her palms. “I would have stayed on the phone with you longer, but Flint said if I did, he’d deduct the time out of my pay—which I still have yet to see. He just finds more ways to get me further indebted to him.”

  She wetted her lips. “Ravyn, let’s get in your car right now and go—somewhere. Anywhere. Drop me off in a town that looks even remotely promising.”

  “And then what? Do you have any money saved?”

  Shelley shook her head and lowered her gaze. A second later, she looked b
ack at Ravyn. “But I’m sure I can find a job soon enough.”

  “At a sleazy nightclub or another greasy spoon?” Ravyn thought she might be naïve, but she didn’t consider herself totally ignorant. “That won’t help you. You’ll end up falling back into your old lifestyle.”

  “Oh, but, please. I can’t stay here.” Shelley stared at her with wide and pleading eyes.

  Ravyn pursed her lips, thinking about lending Shelley money. But, again, that posed a danger because Shelley could always use the borrowed funds to buy drugs.

  “Okay, let’s think over the situation. We need a plan.” Ravyn had more or less spoken her thoughts and didn’t expect a reply.

  But Shelley set one hand on her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “Ravyn, it’s Friday. It’s a hot summer afternoon and there are going to be parties up and down this street tonight. Some friends might stop over with beer and drugs and I’m afraid that I might—”

  “Okay, I understand.” Ravyn sensed Shelley’s hope was gone and her will was fading fast. “Then there’s only one thing left for us to do.”

  “That is?”

  “You and Marky are coming back to the hotel with me until we can figure out a practical solution.”

  Relief washed over Shelley’s sunken features. “Thank you. It’s at least a step forward.” She sagged against Ravyn. “You’re a true godsend.”

  ❧

  “Hey, watch this one!”

  Ravyn turned just in time to see Marky jump off the diving board. His backside hit the water, creating a huge splash that reached both her and Shelley as they sat perched on the edge of the hotel’s outdoor swimming pool.

  “I’ll have to nickname him Tsunami,” Shelley joked.

  Ravyn had to laugh in spite of all the drama earlier this afternoon.

  After helping Shelley and Marky gather and pack their meager articles of clothing and miscellaneous items, they stopped at a discount store where Ravyn purchased some necessities for them. She had also bought swimsuits, thinking the pool would be a fun activity for Marky, and she’d been right: he now behaved very much like a typical ten-year-old boy.