The Chihuahua Affair: Best in Show

by Amy Jarecki

  “I don’t know,” Matt said. “The person who called your mom thought he was, but they called an ambulance. He must be pretty beat up.”

  “He’s going to be pissed if he can’t play football.”

  “You’re right. He’ll be devastated.” Matt clenched his teeth. He hadn’t known Ryan for long but he really liked the kid and prayed he would be all right. Rebecca had been through enough trauma with the loss of her husband, and now this. It had to be the absolute last thing she needed.

  ***

  By the time Rebecca raced up to the emergency room desk, she was frantic. “My son was brought in by ambulance. He was in a bicycle accident.”

  “Name?”

  “Ryan Lee.”

  The woman clicked the keyboard, staring at her computer with her reading glasses halfway down her nose. “Yes. He’s here. We need his insurance information.”

  Rebecca pulled the card out of her wallet and slid it across the counter. “Here. Can I see him now?”

  She pointed. “Through those doors.”

  Rebecca left her card, dashed through and found a nurse. “Ryan Lee?”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “The football star? He’s in room two just around the corner.”

  Rebecca grimaced. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “He’s pretty bruised. The doctor is looking at the x-rays now. We’ll know more soon.”

  She slipped through the curtain shrouding room two. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the gruesome sight of her son. Half his face was covered by a white gauze bandage that had a hint of blood seeping through, and a shadow of deep purple spread under the skin on the exposed side. He lay flat on his back with his head immobilized by a traction device and a white cotton blanket wrapped around him like a mummy.

  Rebecca flew to his bedside. “Ryan, honey, it’s Momma.”

  Ryan’s eyes popped open. “Mom? Boy, you got here fast.”

  “Yes baby. What happened—what happened to your face?”

  “I think my cheek skidded on the pavement. Lucky for me I was wearing a helmet.”

  Rebecca threw her arms around him and hugged.

  “Ow.”

  “Sorry. Where does it hurt, baby?”

  His eyeballs were the only thing that moved. “Everywhere, but my head feels like it’s going to explode.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I turned the corner and the car mustn’t have seen me. Next thing I knew, I was in the ditch.”

  “The driver gave us his insurance information and filled out a police report. The police were the ones who insisted on the ambulance. I’m so sorry, Rebecca.” Marlene Jackson, Jason’s mother, spoke from across the room where she sat with her son, clutching her handbag, her face drawn as if her own son was lying in traction.

  Rebecca straightened. “Marlene. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  “We’re waiting on the x-rays.”

  “Can you get them to let me out of this contraption?” Ryan asked.

  Marlene shook her head. “The doctor told us he has to wear it until the x-rays are reviewed. He said it was just a precaution.”

  Rebecca lightly placed her hand on Ryan’s shoulder, afraid touching him anywhere else would cause too much pain. “The nurse said he’s reading the x-rays now. Should only be a few more minutes.”

  “I told the doc I gotta be fit for Friday’s game.”

  Rebecca frowned. Gritting her teeth, she hugged herself. The boy looked like he had been hit by a bomb and all he was worried about was playing the next game. What if he couldn’t play the next game, or for the rest of the season, or ever? She swallowed against an involuntary heave.

  Oh, God, please no.

  “Well, this is nothing short of a miracle,” a bass voice boomed as a man in scrubs entered the room.

  “Doctor?” Rebecca asked—he hardly looked old enough to be out of high school.

  “Yes, Doctor Patel.”

  “I’m Rebecca Lee, Ryan’s mother.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand. “You’ve got one tough boy there, Mrs. Lee.” He bent down to release Ryan’s head from the traction device. “I thought for sure you would have had multiple fractures when they wheeled you in, but you’re just badly bruised. I expect you to have a full recovery.”

  Ryan’s face lit up with a big grin. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, but as I said, you’re badly bruised and I’m not talking about football bruised. You’re going to need to take it easy for a few weeks.”

  “Yeah, but I need to play on Friday.”

  Thinning his lips, Dr. Patel shook his head. “I think you’ll have to sit out a game or two.”

  “What’d ya mean? The season is almost over. If I don’t play, we might blow our chances to get into the playoffs.”

  The doctor sat on the edge of his bed. “I’ve got to level with you, Ryan. You’re not going to be able to play on Friday. You go see your family doctor in a few days. By then he’ll be able to assess how you’re healing. I’ll bet if the swelling in your ankle goes down, he might let you back on the field sooner rather than later.”

  “Aw, come on, doc.”

  “I think you’ll understand what I’m talking about once you try to walk, son. But you’re young. You’ll heal fast, and you are incredibly lucky. I can’t tell you how many people I see every day who aren’t half as lucky as you and some of them don’t get out of bed for six months or more. I’d be counting my blessings about now.”

  Jason slid beside Ryan’s bed. “Dude, do you know how great this is? I thought you were totally screwed when they carted you away in that ambulance. Coach’ll understand, K?”

  “Yeah. I guess. Thank God nothin’s broken, that really would have messed up my season.”

  The nurse velcroed an air brace on Ryan’s ankle. He was stiff and sore, and had difficulty walking just as the doctor had warned. The doc prescribed crutches, which he would need until the swelling went down, and he handed Rebecca prescriptions for pain to get him through the next few days.

  ***

  Once she got Ryan loaded into the car, Rebecca remembered to call Amanda. “I just wanted to let you know that Ryan’s okay. He’s pretty sore but nothing’s broken.”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  “Did you and Matt get the motor home packed up?”

  “Yeah. We’re almost to the turnoff.”

  “Good. Tell Matt to drive to the house. I’ve got to pick up some things at the pharmacy and I’ll be right there.”

  A half hour later, Rebecca and Matt pulled into the driveway almost simultaneously, which was fortunate for Ryan, though he didn’t admit he needed help maneuvering the crutches. Rebecca asked Amanda to take care of the dogs while she and Matt took Ryan up to his room.

  “Hey dude, tough night, huh?” Matt said.

  “Not the best. Doc says no football for a couple of weeks.”

  Matt gave him a friendly jab to the shoulder. “Well, I know that’s got to be disappointing, but it could have been a whole lot worse.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m worried about getting out of shape though.”

  “I can work out with you.”

  Rebecca wasn’t sure she liked the direction of the conversation. “I think he needs to rest for a couple of days and let the doctor determine when he can start exercising again.”

  Matt walked behind Ryan with his hands up, ready to catch him if he miss-stepped. “Your Mom’s right. Maybe we can do some swimming once the doctor approves. That’ll keep you fit and won’t be a strain on your ankle.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that. The sooner I can get going the better.”

  They made the boy as comfortable as possible and gave him his meds. Amanda stopped by and reported the dogs were taken care of and she was heading to bed.

  Rebecca had lost her concept of time. She glanced at her watch. “Holy cow, I didn’t realize it was after midnight. Matt, you must be exhausted.”

  “Don’t worry about
me. It’s you I’m concerned about.” He inclined his head toward the door and she followed him downstairs. Once they reached the kitchen, he turned and placed his hands on her shoulders, cocking his head with concern. “How’re you holding up?”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she let out a ragged breath. “When I saw him lying flat on that bed, immobilized in traction, I almost died. I had to hold it together for him, but inside I was screaming. It was like the tragedy of H-Henry’s death was happening again.” She couldn’t hold it back any longer.

  Matt tried to draw Rebecca in to comfort her but she pulled away. It hurt too much. Tears poured down her face as she clutched her arms against her chest. What if she’d lost Ryan? Rebecca couldn’t bear the thought. She doubled over, her insides shredding.

  Matt placed a warm hand on her arm. “Come here. I’m not going to do anything—just a shoulder to cry on.” He gently brought her into his embrace and held her while she wept. “That’s good, let it out. Let it all out. You know you’re safe with me.”

  His voice soothed and she buried her face into his protective shoulder, trying to regain control. It felt so good to have a man to comfort her. He caressed her back as if she were as fragile as a rose petal. He kissed her forehead with warm, tender lips. Rebecca couldn’t fight it. Exactly what she needed, Matt’s embrace cocooned her with the protection she craved.

  As the sobs turned to staccato breaths, he led her to the couch, poured a couple of glasses of cabernet and flicked on the gas fireplace. “This’ll help you sleep.”

  “Thank you.” Rebecca took the glass and hung her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I lost it on you.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. Shows you’re human.”

  Taking a sip, Rebecca let the wine spread over her tongue. “Human. That’s a good way of putting it. Sometimes I think I’ve tried so hard to be strong that I’ve forgotten the human part.”

  “It’s got to be tough—alone with two teenagers—but I think you handle yourself remarkably well.”

  “Yeah? Thank heavens they’re good kids.”

  Matt sipped his wine. “You got that right.”

  Rebecca stared into the flames as the wine warmed her cheeks. Hypnotized by the dance of the fire, her guilt grew. “When I got the money from the insurance, I paid off the house and quit my job. It took me out of town for weeks and I worked all kinds of odd hours. I needed to be there for the kids. They used to go to the dog shows with me but once Ryan got interested in football, I let him stay with friends when I went to shows and….” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I wasn’t there to protect him today.” Another tear slipped from her eye. “I wasn’t there,” she whispered, brushing it away.

  Matt took a deep breath. “No, you weren’t there, but how are you going to protect him every time he leaves the house? He could have been on that bike whether you were in Medford or in Bloomsburg. You can’t follow him around and you can’t cover him in bubble wrap.”

  A long but comfortable silence passed as they finished their wine, watching the hypnotic dance of the flames. Matt slipped his arm around her shoulders, his soft tug inviting her to rest against his protective chest.

  ***

  In minutes, Rebecca’s breathing took on the slow cadence of sleep. Matt gently reclined against the pillows. Breathing in unison, she relaxed into him. The worry vanished from her face, and in slumber, she could be a woman of twenty-five. Matt wanted to take on her cares and protect her from the harsh realities of the world. In his arms, he could watch over her and keep her safe. Tranquil peace blanketed them. Matt wished he could bottle this moment. It would be a potent elixir.

  An hour later, Matt carried Rebecca up to her room. He wanted to stay on the couch all night and cradle her in his arms, but he needed to be respectful of the fact that there were teenagers in the house. Rebecca would be mortified if Amanda caught them on the couch in the morning.

  As gently as he could, he placed her on the bed and removed her shoes. He pulled the down comforter over her and she settled into the pillows, mumbling a subconscious thank you. Matt stood back and watched her for a minute. Her curly red hair framed her ivory skin like a china doll. She looked so fragile. He wanted to lie beside her and wrap protective arms around her, but that wouldn’t be right.

  With a resolute sigh, Matt bent down, kissed her forehead and slipped out the door into the frigid night air.

  Chapter Seven

  Fortunately for Matt, it was Sunday and he let himself relax into the folds of an abundance of feather-down pillows and slept late. His psyche hung in that magical place between sleep and awake and his mind toyed with dreams of Rebecca. He pictured her on the beach, the wind blowing that fiery hair. He gazed into her deep blue, intelligent eyes and enjoyed the memory of long slender legs that she displayed at the dog show. He dreamed of her wading in a tiny bikini, her skin shimmering with the reflection of the rippling water. The strain of his erection brought him closer to consciousness.

  The one thing he found most intoxicating, however, was her scent. As he drove home last night it remained on his shirt—that womanly scent unique to her. Clean like the sunshine after rain, heady with a touch of orange blossom, and ever so intoxicating. Whenever he got close, it drew him in and rendered him powerless to resist.

  Now fully awake, he wondered if her feelings were remotely close to his. She had told him they could only be friends. That statement alone indicated she’s considered something more. He understood her reluctance. Of course her first priority had to be her kids, and though he felt an ideal connection with Ryan, he wondered how he could win Rebecca’s affections with Amanda critically watching his every move.

  As his thoughts became more focused and intense, the idea of a relaxing morning lazing in bed slipped away and he lumbered to the coffee pot.

  Eyeing the stack of unopened mail on the kitchen counter, he reached for a package that had been sent Priority. Thinking it was business related, he tore the tab. Inside he found a bright red scrapbook. A pink slip of paper glided to the floor. He picked up the note.

  Hi Matty,

  Just want you to know how much I’m thinking of my strong, hunky man. I had my photographer take these with only you in mind. Don’t worry, you have the only copy and I have the negatives. Enjoy!

  Kisses, Monica

  He ground his back molars.

  Only me in mind? How about Brad? Clearly he meant more to you than me.

  Matt wadded up the paper until he saw no scrap of pink in his fist and tossed it in the trash.

  Pouring his coffee, he sat at the counter and stared at the book.

  What the hell?

  A ping of curiosity led him to open the album and leaf through a couple of pages. His shoulders tensed and hot fire ripped through his chest. He slammed it shut.

  Anyone else and he might have enjoyed what he saw. Anyone but her.

  Monica had sent him a complete album of nude photos that hid nothing. He glared at the bright red cover overlaid with red lace. Did the woman have no self-respect? Didn’t she realize he’d upped and moved across the country to get away from her?

  Matt snatched the book and hurled it against the wall. It flopped open to a lewd picture where her huge milky white breasts cheaply contrasted with tanned skin as she reclined on a red lounge, her legs open to reveal her crotch. He squeezed his eyes tight and shook his head to forget the image as it burned an unwanted memory in his mind.

  Yanking the book from the floor, he ripped open the door under the kitchen sink and threw the disgusting album at the garbage bin.

  He stomped upstairs, pulled on a set of sweats and ran down the street to the park along the Cooper River. The drizzly morning matched his mood and the cold moist beads stung his skin but he kept on. Pictures of that woman raced through his mind—not the touched up photographs that he glanced at in the scrapbook, but real pictures he desperately wanted to forget.

  As much as he h
ad tried, he could not erase the memory of the sordid look of ecstasy on Monica’s face with her knees spread wide while the naked ass of his best friend slammed into her over and over. The memories tormented him daily. He could now understand why shunned lovers committed murder. If his conscience allowed it, he would have taken his baseball bat and bludgeoned them both without remorse.

  With the driving rain stinging his face, Matt ran for miles trying to forget. How did he get himself into this mess—hating the woman who had taken his love and thrown it away for a cheap thrill, only to have his heart seized by a woman unable to return his affection? Was there no one normal out there for him? Would he ever know what it was like to love someone so deeply that it hurt and to have her return that love with equal power?

  Why can’t Monica leave me alone? Does she take some kind of sadistic pleasure in tormenting me?

  He tried to force his mind to replace those vulgar images with the tender moment he shared with Rebecca the night before but he couldn’t bring it back. His pleasant thoughts were tainted by the bleached-blonde witch who thought she could manipulate anyone who crossed her path and get whatever she damned-well pleased.

  Matt didn’t notice when his right foot sank into the mud, but he noticed when his next step plunged him sliding out of control toward the swollen Cooper River.

  His arms flung out, reaching for anything that would stop his fall. The unforgiving and slippery mud sucked him in a downward cascade straight into the raging river. Enveloped by the swirls of the forty-degree water, the wind rushed from his lungs with a gasp of pain. Kicking with all his strength, he fought to swim to the shore. But the current, far stronger than any man, funneled him to the center of the angry torrent.

  Sailing under a bridge, he reached out, latching his fingers onto the corner of a cement support. He clutched his fingernails into the green algae, fighting for a hold in the slimy scum. Shivering, teeth chattering, he glanced around to eye his next move. With rapid breaths, he launched himself toward the closest shore. He fought and strained with every ounce of strength while his muscles screamed.