Bearing It All

by Vonnie Davis

  Davina unwrapped the bandage on the other side of his head, so his mum could make sure she had all his hair shaved off. The nurse and his mum worked together to make sure she had him completely bald. Davina opened a tube of ointment to apply to his head wounds and the spots where the steel restraining bands had caused Magnus’s hide to bleed.

  The door swung open and in strolled Thane, a smirk brightening his face. “I’d nay sooner hit the inside of the hospital when throngs of nurses cornered me. Bloody hell, fer a minute I thought I was going to get lucky with a mass fookin’.” He snapped on rubber gloves, removed the bandages from Ronan’s abdomen, and studied the stitches. “But, nay, instead of wanting to talk about me fine-looking arse, they wanted to gossip about yers. Well, more than gossip. They downright bragged.”

  He pulled over the table Davina had prepared with the items he’d need. “I’ll have to repair a couple stitches. Do ye want something fer the pain?”

  At this point, Ronan was so tired, pain didna matter to him. “Nay, I’ll be fine. Do what needs done and be quick about it.”

  Thane prepared to fix the incision. “Cousin, seems ye caused quite a stir on the third floor. Cell-phone pictures were taken that have gone viral.”

  Ronan’s mother slapped his arm. “Now see what ye’ve done by insisting on going upstairs to see Anisa?”

  Thane dabbed gauze pads over Ronan’s incision. “Aunt Fiona, I’m betting he’ll increase yer reservations fer the next year. Every woman will want to come see that arse in person.” He shook his head and heaved a huge sigh. “They made me look at those pictures. I had to wash out me bloody eyes with bleach before I could face him.”

  Ronan gritted his teeth as the sting and pull of the needle pierced his skin. Damned if he’d utter one feckin’ word of complaint.

  Thane leaned a hip against the side of the bed and flashed his devilish smile. “And why, pray tell, do the pictures show bite marks on both of yer arse cheeks?”

  Chapter 16

  Anisa lay in her bed, reliving every moment of her short visit with Ronan. How good it felt to lie in his arms, to kiss, and to tease one another. A brief conversation outside her door tore her romantic thoughts to the reality of the present, especially when a lady with red hair, turning white at the roots peeked in. “Anisa? Are ye up for a wee bit of company? I’m Ronan’s mum.”

  Cripes, Anisa hadn’t expected this so soon. Really, when did she expect to meet his mother? She extended her hand. “Please come in. I’d love a visit.” She motioned toward the chair near her bed. “Have a seat, please. Have you seen Ronan?”

  “Aye. I was waiting at his room when Davina brought him back from yers. Do ye have any bairns, Anisa?”

  What the hell kind of question was that? Put your defenses down. She’s only trying to feel you out.

  “No, ma’am, I’m in the French military. I’ve been too busy earning rank after rank to get married or have children. My focus was always on my career. Now, after meeting your son, I don’t want to go back to that life. He’s a gentle charmer. I don’t want to be away from him.”

  She’d evidently said the right thing for the older woman’s face lit up with maternal pride. “I’ll expect ye to call me Fiona. Ye ken, fer all the Matheson Scottish pride, the males in our line of the clan have chosen their brides from other countries. I’m from Ireland. Paisley, Creighton’s wife, is from America. Bryce’s Kenzie is from Romania. And, now, Ronan’s love is from France. Fer all our differences, we are a closely knit family.”

  “So Ronan told me. He loves you all very much.”

  Fiona fiddled with the straps of her purse. “He told me ye’ve met his internal bear. How do ye feel about the shifting part of his life?”

  “I won’t lie to you, Fiona. It took me nearly an hour of trembling and asking questions after Magnus held me on his lap before I began to understand and accept. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night.”

  “Magnus?”

  “Yes. I had Ronan ask his bear what I should call him. He said Magnus. He saved my life when the helicopters came to the cabin. I have no problems with Ronan’s dual personas.”

  Fiona crossed her legs and twisted her purse straps some more. “That’s a lot fer a woman to accept. Can ye do that?” She smiled. “A mother worries.”

  “For Ronan, I can do anything. I suppose it’s because I love him so much. I know relationships this serious aren’t supposed to happen this quickly, but I hope you’ll approve.” Her gaze shifted to Fiona’s.

  “Och, as if I’d have room to object. Me beloved and I knew almost within the moment we breathed the same air.” Fiona pushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Aye. I believe in love at first sight. I couldna be happier fer ye make me son happy. He’s always been the peacemaker of the three boys.”

  “That’s because he wants things to stay the same. He can’t handle change. It reminds him of the most painful time in his life.” Anisa hoped she wasn’t revealing too much of the personal feelings Ronan had shared with her at the cabin.

  “When his da died,” Fiona whispered. “He still carries that pain. A mother can tell. Me sons have been me entire life. I ken them like the back o’ me hand. I’m surprised, yet pleased he told ye.”

  “We were snowed inside the cabin for days, during which we did a lot of talking. We shared a lot of painful secrets from our past. I guess that’s why we’re so close.”

  “Now I understand why he talked about ye the way he did. As if he worships the ground ye walk on, much like his da did me.” She shook her head. “I miss me man every day.” Fiona wiped an errant tear as she stood. “Now, get some rest.” She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss to Anisa’s forehead. “Ronan needs ye, ye ken. I can tell a difference in him already. If ye’re the reason for it, then ye have me blessing.” Fiona turned and quietly walked out.

  Anisa sighed and smiled. For first meetings, that went remarkably well. Ronan’s mother struck her as a woman with a backbone of steel and a heart of gold. She liked her already.

  A few deep breaths and the drugs pulled her into sleep.

  She had no clue how long she slept before the squeak of her door slowly opening woke her. Effie, grinning from earring to earring, sashayed in, wearing a black sweater with a pink rosebud knitted onto the front. She laid her coat, scarf, and large pink purse on a chair and shuffled in her baffies to Anisa’s bed.

  A twinkle in her eyes, the old woman leaned over to pat Anisa’s hand, giving her a whiff of baby powder. “How’s my girl doing today?”

  “My head feels better. Thank you for asking.” What is the pink-haired woman excited about? She looks like she’s ready to explode.

  “First”—Effie slipped her cellphone from her back pocket—“I’d like an explanation for this photo that’s gone viral. The photo’s had over two million hits! Can you imagine?” She held the screen so Anisa could see it. “Do you recognize that ass peeking from the hospital gown? I wonder who bit the hell outta him?”

  Oh, she’d recognize those firm ass cheeks anywhere and her bite marks, too. Although, to be honest, she hadn’t thought she’d bitten him hard enough to leave marks. Her boxing partners on base always told her she was stronger than she looked, but did that apply to her jaws, too?

  “I kept telling him he had a biteable ass and, one time, I rolled him over and bit each luscious cheek.”

  Effie smacked a kiss to the unbandaged side of Anisa’s forehead. “Oh, Rose Petal, I just knew you were my kind of woman. May I call you Rose Petal? Giving nicknames to people I care about is one of my many idiosyncrasies. I call my granddaughter Sweet Pea, even though her real name is Paisley. My other young friend’s name is Kenzie, but I call her Sparrow. She’s Bryce’s wife.” She tilted her head to the side and shook her index finger at Anisa. “Yes, I think Rose Petal suits you just fine. Feminine, yet strong.”

  Were all witches this crazy? Or maybe the pink-haired woman wasn’t a witch at all. Just an escapee from a loony bin somewhere. She spoke with an
American accent. What if she was hiding out in the Highlands exactly as Anisa had hoped to?

  Effie took another look at the picture, chuckled, and slipped the cellphone into her pocket. “Thane, Earnan’s nephew, is his replacement as doctor to the Matheson clan—both their human side and their bear’s. He told his uncle Earnan about the picture and, of course, Earnan, my current beau, couldn’t wait to show it to me.” She snickered. “We had quite the laugh over it, especially since it was Ronan. He’s always so somber and never hesitates to speak what he thinks to his family. Not that he isn’t polite and jovial to guests at the lodge, for he is.”

  “He wasn’t so nice to me when I showed up at his cabin door.” Anisa wrapped her sheet around her hand. “And I was all drools. I’d never seen a man in a kilt before.”

  Effie’s open hand fluttered to her chest and her pink lips twitched into a wide smile. “Oh, I just love a man in a kilt. Especially if he walks with that heavy-hung strut.” She blushed, which surprised Anisa. “I have to admit, Earnan’s got a cute little swagger to his walk. Most men his age aren’t able to do a whole lot without some medicinal help, but”—she glanced over her shoulder to the closed door—“I’m not above using a little pecker-rising magic on his tadger. That’s what they call cocks here in Scotland—tadgers.”

  “A heavy-hung strut? What in God’s name is that?”

  As if Effie couldn’t wait to show her, she patted her uninjured shoulder. “Let me show you how a normal man walks.” She sashayed across the room. “See—the exaggerated arm movements? That’s because there’s not much below to swing the male body along.” She shook her pink polished finger at Anisa. “But…but a man who has a big daddy and chubby twins to contend with shifts his shoulders when he walks and gets a little hip action into his stride. Like this.”

  The old woman pursed her bright pink lips and swung her bony shoulders and hips, her legs spread wide. In all honesty, Effie walked like a toddler with a load of crap in its diaper.

  Anisa laughed until her stomach hurt for that was exactly how Ronan walked. His shoulders shifted and his ass swayed in the most appealing way. She wiped tears of mirth from her cheeks. “Oh, Effie, you are so bad.”

  Her male exhibition over, she plopped into the chair next to the bed. “Yes, but I’m so good at it.” She winked at Anisa before she exploded with laughter and clapped her wrinkled hands.

  “Effie, do you think you can peek under my bandage to see how much of my hair has been removed? Ronan said he was having his entire head shaved and told me I should do the same.”

  Effie crossed her arms. “No. I’m a firm believer in a woman doing what she wants with her body and that includes her hair. Don’t allow a man to tell you how to dress or what hairstyle to wear. It’s none of his damn business. Oh, we can dress to seduce, but that’s a choice we make. Not a man.”

  “Ah, a woman’s libber.”

  Effie nodded once. “Damn straight. I suggest you wait until the bandage has been removed and you’ve had a chance to wash what’s left of your hair. See how it looks.” She fluttered her fingers over her own curls. “Maybe you can come up with a style to hide most of the shaved part. Then you decide. You just remember what Aretha Franklin said.”

  “Aretha, who?” Anisa rolled onto her side to face this giver of feminine wisdom.

  “An American soul singer. She’s magnificent. Aretha did this fabulous song, ‘Respect.’ ” She stood, her mismatched eyes sparkling. “Have you ever heard the song?”

  “No. Not that I recall.” Anisa would have to look it up on YouTube after she bought a new laptop. If her money was still in her jeans. Where were her clothes, anyway? In the closet?

  “Give me just a sec, Rose Petal.” Effie glanced around, opened a drawer to the stand beside the bed and, finding nothing, walked over to the closet and peered in. “Nothing in here, but clothes that need to be washed. I’ll take them home with me to launder. Whew! They smell a little moldy.” She closed the door.

  Her index finger rose. “I know. I’ve got just the things in my purse. I spent the night with Earnan and it was my turn to bring the toys.”

  Toys? What kind of toys could two old people be using? Certainly she didn’t mean sex toys.

  Effie marched over to the chair on the other side of Anisa’s bed and rummaged through her large purse. She drew out a pink feathered boa and wrapped it once around her scrawny neck. Humming, she dug until she yanked out a pink leather flogger, spun it a couple of times over her head, and then snapped the side of the chair with it.

  Anisa jumped. Good God Almighty, do I even want to know? The graphic illusion of lots of naked, wrinkled skin popped into Anisa’s mind, and she decided there was no way in hell she did.

  Effie kept digging in her bag. “Now where is that other thing? Surely I didn’t leave it in Earnan’s bathroom after I washed it. Oh, here it is!” She twirled to face Anisa, the flogger in one hand and a pink dildo in her other. She hipped the chair out of the way so she’d have more room to perform, or so she claimed.

  Dear God, forgive my eyes for what they are about to see.

  Effie stomped one pelican baffie, counting four beats. Like a makeshift microphone, she held the dildo close to her mouth and belted the words. “What you want. Baby I got it…” She swung the flogger over her head and gyrated her hips to the rhythm of the song. One baffie would slide and the other would tiptoe over to meet it as she sang. She pranced and skipped across the floor like Mick Jagger, slapping her own skinny behind with her flogger. Never once did she hit a single note on key. She sounded more like a cat in heat, her howls bouncing off the building walls in an alley.

  The door to Anisa’s room flew open just as Effie went into a series of hip rolls, spelling out the word “respect.” The two police guards, their revolvers drawn, eyes wide, and mouths slack-jawed, came to a screeching halt.

  Effie evidently wasn’t aware of their presence as she continued her performance for Anisa. She tossed the flogger and dildo on the bed and unwrapped the feathered boa from her neck. With an end in each hand she lifted one of her baffies, stepped over the boa, and sawed it against her crotch several times as she wiggled her ass, never once missing a beat of her off-key song. She spun, spied the cops, and squeaked. One wrinkled hand flew to her heart.

  She fisted her other on her narrow hip as her pink boa floated to the floor. “The performance for the patient is free. If you want to watch, the cover charge is fifteen pounds, sterling.”

  Both men holstered their guns and ducked out. Raucous laughter drifted in from the hallway.

  Effie gave an irritated huff as she snatched the boa off the floor and shook it out. “Well, they needn’t think I’m heating up their libidos at no charge. Oh my, I’ve worked up quite a sweat. I could use a Coke. Would you like one?” Effie winked. “I’ll sneak you one in here. Some chocolate, maybe?”

  “I won’t say no to either.” Anisa’s words choked out between giggles over Effie’s performance.

  “Let me put my props back in my purse, and I’ll be off.” Within an instant, the ball of senior energy had dashed out the door.

  Anisa was almost asleep when a different nurse came in to unhook her from the monitors. This had to be a good sign, a positive indication she was on the road to recovery. The nurse, who wore Chanel No. 5, smiled as she injected something into the IV drip.

  The fragrance brought a painful wave of homesickness. “My mother wears Chanel No. 5. She has for years.”

  “It’s a lovely scent. Very classic.” The nurse busied herself rolling up the cords for the monitors and snapping the plastic bands to hold them in place.

  Heat sprinted up Anisa’s arm to race full-tilt through her system. The room spun and floated like a carousel. Wooziness plucked at the backs of her eyes, pulling her lids shut. Wow, those were awfully strong drugs. Why was she getting them now, when she was getting better? She was, right? Or the nurse wouldn’t have unhooked her from the monitors. Was she having an allergic reaction to th
e medicine?

  Numbness caressed her fingers and toes then focused on her arms and legs. Relaxation seeped into every pore, and she sighed. It really did feel good, yet excessively strong at the same time.

  Meanwhile, the nurse pushed the monitors to the corner of the room.

  Suddenly, the movement of Anisa’s lungs diminished. She coughed, trying to take a deeper breath, yet she couldn’t. Her labored breathing spawned flashbacks of torture treatment in the training camps—waterboarding, in particular. Tightness and pain gripped her lungs. Coughing ceased. Breathing was hampered. What the hell? She tried to lift her hand to her chest, but it wouldn’t budge. Panic set in.

  The nurse stood with her back to her, wiping down the machine and monitor screen. Anisa had to get her attention. “Nurth…nurth. Thome wro…” Her thickened tongue wouldn’t respond. Neither would her limbs. It was as if they were cemented to the mattress. She forced all her concentration and strength into shifting an arm. Sweat ran down her face with the effort. Her body stirred in slow motion.

  With a gargantuan effort to draw deep for strength, she grabbed the bend of her arm. Sweat burned her eyes. The room dimmed as she frantically clawed at the tape over the stent. Whatever this drug was, it was killing her.

  The nurse removed the plastic liner from the wastebasket.

  Damn, can’t she see I need help?

  Seemingly oblivious to Anisa’s desperate condition, the nurse opened the door to the closet and removed the dirty clothing, shoving them into the plastic bag. “You better hope the files you copied are in these clothes.”

  How did the nurse know about the copied files? In an instant, Anisa grasped the reality of her doom. The Chanel No. 5 and the quiet shoes. The woman was no nurse; she was an agent for ICAT. No, she knew all the agents. More than likely, she was with the CIA.