“Well, I for one, think it’s lovely.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lawrence. You seem to be feeling well today. What’s got you so chipper?”
“My grandson returns home this weekend from our corporation in China. I haven’t seen him in several months.”
“China? Wow. I’ve never been there. Does he go there a lot?”
“In and out practically the entire past three years and he hasn’t been happy about it.”
Small talk was great at keeping the patient’s mind removed from what we were doing, and I seemed to keep them chatting very well. Some of the patients told me the same stories day after day, which had me performing a serious act at pretending. Reminded me of the movie Fifty First Dates with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore.
Mr. Lawrence was a talker. In fact, he was rarely quiet, and I soon discovered he was a billionaire and also a big philanthropist, donating millions of dollars to the hospital in honor of his late wife Valarie.
“We are into global technology and have a micro-chip company there.”
“That’s got to be interesting.”
“Are you married?” he popped off one night as I took him out to his car.
“Are you asking?” I teased him.
“I might be,” he continued to joke. “No, you just seem like a sweet young lady, and I was curious if you had a husband to rush off to at home.”
My heart was shredded, and I began to sweat profusely even in the cold wind, but I kept my stoic face as best I could and leaned down to lock the wheelchair, so he couldn’t see me or my reaction to his question.
“No, Mr. Lawrence, I’m not married.”
“No one at home who you have to rush off to, so have dinner with me.”
“I’d love to, but I have a roommate from the nursing school, and we’re studying tonight for a big test.”
He covered his chest with both hands. “Ouch, I’m rejected. Maybe next time, my dear.”
“Perhaps.” Shameful of me to tease an old man, but I didn’t have the heart to spill my guts with my amount of baggage.
I was perplexed why he only had hired help with him and never any family, but it wasn’t my place to ask.
“Next week, I’m bringing my grandson for you to meet.”
“I look forward to that. What’s his name?”
“Dane.”
“Well, I’ll see you and Dane on Monday then.”
I said goodbye to Mr. Lawrence and finished my shift, after which, Darlie and I picked up Chinese takeout and went to my house to share with Karina before we settled in for a weekend of studying.
“I’m having an adult libation with dinner, celebrating having received the crankpot patient award today,” Karina bellowed as she plopped on some pillows by the coffee table.
“Oh no, what happened?” Darlie asked.
“A four-year-old little boy told me I was no longer his friend when I had to stick his finger for the third time in one day to check his blood sugar.”
“Wow, Karina, that’s really sad. You lose friends on a daily basis, don’t you?” I teased.
“Well, at least your patients don’t stick their tongues out at you every time you come in the room,” Karina joked and got up to throw her container in the trash.
“No, they are sweet, and most of them are scared to death,” I yelled out to her.
“I think the move was a good one for you. You’ve come a long way, and I’m proud of you,” Darlie offered.
“Me too,” Karina echoed from the kitchen.
“It’s hard to believe that almost a year has gone by. I miss him so much, and sometimes, I still pick up the phone to call him. It so damn weird, like I live in a time warp, but yes, I’ve come a long way and can finally see I’m ready to move on with my life. I know it’s what he would’ve wanted.”
“Does that mean date?” Darlie asked, grabbing my forearm for added attention.
“Maybe. It just means that today when Mr. Lawrence asked if I was married, it hurt, you know. But I realized I’m going to get that question often, and one of these days I do want to be married and have a family, so it made me realize that maybe I’m open to it.”
“That’s awesome,” Karina said. “I’m gonna go get ready. Aaron’s picking me up. I can’t wait to tell him you’re on the market. He’s got some cool friends.”
“See, that’s the shit I’m talking about,” I groaned.
Darlie just laughed when I rolled my eyes.
My intercom buzzed. “Wrenn, Mr. Lawrence is here.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.” I left my desk and went to the side entrance with the wheelchair, but there was no sign of Mr. Lawrence. I walked to the front reception, and there he sat ready to go.
“Well, you’re a magician today. Already in a chair. Poof.” I threw my hands up.
“No, Dane helped me, and then he had to run an errand, but I want you to meet him. I’ve told him all about you.”
“Oh, you did, did you? Well, I bet that was interesting, since you and I have only been dating for a week now, and you already want me to meet the family.” I pushed him back for his chemo treatment.
“Young lady, you are adorable and the highlight of my day, every day.”
“Well, I feel the same way about you. When are we getting married?”
“Tomorrow soon enough?” he teased.
“Tomorrow, it is.” I left him with the nurse for his treatment and went to my desk to work on charts. A little while later the nurse called and asked me to come back to Mr. Lawrence’s room. It wasn’t time for him to leave, and I rushed back, thinking something was wrong.
When I opened the door, he was sitting there all chummy, talking to a man dressed in a suit, but I didn’t focus on the man in the corner, I only had concern for my patient.
“Mr. Lawrence, did you want to see me?” I asked, approaching his bedside. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I wanted you to meet my grandson, Dane.”
I turned around to see the man he wanted me to meet, extending my right hand. “Hi, I’m—”
“Wrenn, I know.”
I paused and stared—a very long stare I’m afraid. He was genuinely handsome and looked familiar. Then it hit me. “A.D.?”
“Yes. Asher Dane Lawrence is a mouthful, but it’s me.”
“You look—different. A suit, no beard…”
“It’s been over a year, and you never called. You still owe me a date.”
“Wait, she’s my girl. We’re getting married tomorrow,” Mr. Lawrence professed.
I turned my head quickly to Mr. Lawrence and then back to Dane. “He’s right. I’m spoken for. I was supposed to meet the family.”
“Well, now you have,” Dane quipped.
I laughed and the gentlemen chimed in. I leaned against the wall next to Mr. Lawrence’s bedside.
Dane took his seat again in the chair. “What happened? I seriously thought you’d call, and I was looking forward to it.”
“You two know each other?” Mr. Lawrence asked, confused.
“No,” I answered.
“Yes, we’ve met. A year ago, so that means I saw her first, Grandfather.” Dane teased.
“Look, the past year… My life… It’s a story, and one I can’t tell right now. Can we talk later?” I chewed at my bottom lip and crossed my arms.
“Yes, what time do you get off? I’ll be back to pick you up.”
“No, I can’t tonight, but give me your number again and I’ll call.”
“Okay. Give me your hand.”
I approached the chair where he was still sitting and presented my left hand. Thinking he was going to give me a business card, you can imagine my surprise when he wrote his number on the back of my hand.
“A temporary tattoo?”
“Yeah, hopefully one you won’t lose until you can put it in your phone.”
I laughed at his witty commentary.
Later, I was standing in Darlie’s office after Mr. Lawrence and Dane left, te
lling her the story of my dead battery and meeting A.D., who was actually Dane, Mr. Lawrence’s grandson.
She laughed at me. “So, you know this is karma, right?”
“How do you figure?”
“When you met him the first time, you wouldn’t have been ready for a relationship. But now…”
“I’m not ready for one now.”
“But you said last week you were.”
“I said ‘maybe’. Good grief, I give you and Katrina an inch and you both take liberty. She’s already got Aaron fixing me up with a blind date.”
Darlie and I clocked out and walked outside to the parking lot. As we approached our cars parked fairly close to one another, I noticed my car had a tall man leaning against it. This time he was wearing jeans, sweatshirt, and a ball cap turned backwards.
“Is that him?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Oh. My. God. Looks like ‘maybe’ isn’t waiting. You’re going and that’s all there is to it.” She veered off toward her car, but kept turning back to watch me as I walked toward mine.
“What are you doing here?”
“I saw this car from the frontage road and knew it had to be yours. I’m not waiting for you to call. A deal is a deal.”
“Look, Dane, I’ve got a plethora of baggage, and it’s been a hell of a year. Now’s not the time.”
I watched as his eyes looked down my body to my shoes and back up to my eyes. “You going in that or do you want to go change?”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
He shook his head, but bore a really cute grin. “Already calling me names?”
“Fine. Yes, I want to change out of these scrubs. I need to go to my house off highway 288.”
“Lead the way.”
After following me to my place, he waited patiently in his car for me to freshen up. When I returned outside, he got out of his fancy black sports car and opened the door for me.
“I thought you told me you were into American made and organic?” I popped off.
“The car was a gift from Grandfather, and since he’s ill, I couldn’t exactly say no. I have to pick my battles with that man. But organic, yes, and you can tell me yourself how much you love it after we eat. I love to hear how right I am,” he joked.
“You’re sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
Dane glanced in my direction, raising his brows in a comical gesture and smiled. “Is there any other way to be?”
He took me to a quaint little restaurant in the back of a strip mall off Interstate 35. There couldn’t have been more than fifteen tables and booths total inside. When we initially arrived, I heard the guys behind the counter call him by name, suggesting he was a regular customer, so the food had to be good to keep him coming back.
We were seated in a back corner booth that had plenty of leg room for him.
“What kind of pizza is your favorite?” he asked.
“Anything, seriously. Even anchovies.”
“That’s a pizza lover right there. I can’t do them. I’ve tried. Okay if I order for us?”
Seeing as how we didn’t have any menus, that was going to have to work. “Sure.”
He asked what I wanted to drink and placed our order. “So, you said the last year had been a booger. What happened? School kickin’ your ass?”
A lump appeared in my throat the size of a small lemon and cut off my airway along with my cognitive thinking. Instantly, I broke out in a cold sweat. When my eyes met his, I found him watching me intently, but I was certain he was unprepared for any kind of honest answer I could throw out at him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“No. I think I should go home. I can get a cab.”
“Wrenn, whatever it is, just say it. From the way you look right now, I think you might be better off if you just blurt it all out and get it over with.”
“Not that simple. Let’s talk about you.” My body began to tremble and because I was propped on the table, it vibrated vigorously.
“Shit. I’m a careless jerk. I’m so sorry. Whatever I did, whatever wound I opened, I’m really sorry.”
I knew life wasn’t going to get any easier. My counselors had practiced with me on several occasions for discussions of this nature as part of the process. People were curious and, for the most part, were innocent of their reactions. I took a deep breath and prayed for courage and understanding.
“The weekend I met you was at the beginning of a series of chain reactions. My high school sweetheart and I got back together over the holidays, but our time was brief when he was killed in a work accident at the end of February. Between that and situations involving my ailing mother and almost losing our family farm, it’s been a very trying time.”
“I’m so sorry you’ve suffered, Wrenn.” He grabbed my right hand across the table and held it between both of his.
I actually witnessed his eyes water and saw my pain had bled over to him. When he got up from his side of the booth and came to mine, I just stared up at him.
“Scoot,” he ordered.
“Uh, okay. Yes, sir.”
He wrapped his arms around me tightly. “Sometimes hugs are better than words.”
His actions were almost my undoing…
How did he know what I needed, even when I didn’t know myself?
By the time our food had arrived, calmness had come over me and I was starving. He remained beside me, and we joked and kidded around about sports and all kinds of things, especially since I was wearing a Razorback sweatshirt. On occasion, we would touch a hand or arm or even elbow one another. Innocent, but flirting all the same.
“I’m surprised someone hasn’t hurt you for that shirt.”
I looked down my chest and back up before finding the glint of sarcastic light in his eyes. “Ha. I dare them. Where did you do your undergrad?”
“OU.” He smiled, with only one side of his lips rising to meet his cocky flamboyance.
“EEEK. Gross. No OU and no Alabama!”
“Well, I think I can change your mind.” He elbowed me again.
“I doubt that. You’re right, though, about this pizza. It’s really good and whatever kind of sausage that is, it just became my favorite.”
“The sausage comes from a meat market in McKinney, and everything else is local. Glad you like it.”
He was impressed that I loved beer and all kinds of sports and could actually carry on a decent conversation about ranching.
“So, why did you tell me your name was A.D.?”
“Dane is okay for the business world, but it doesn’t match the ranch, a bit of a sissy name, I think. I would love nothing more than to simply tend my land and livestock for the rest of my life, but for now, Grandfather needs my help in our company.”
“He adores you. He talks non-stop about you.”
“I could say the same about you.” He paused and I noticed a bit of sadness come across his face. His jaw tightened. “I’m all he has left. When he’s gone, I’m alone with a billion-dollar company and inherit a life I care nothing about.”
“Sell it.”
“That’s the plan, but don’t tell him that. I have no intention of living in Asia the rest of my life. He didn’t mind spending much of his life there after Mimi passed away, until he started taking care of me.”
We talked about his travels, and I told him I didn’t even have a passport. I’d only been to three states my whole life and shock wasn’t even close to describing his reaction. Talking with him was as comfortable that night as it had been the first time I’d met him. There was something about Dane I couldn’t put my finger on, but he was charming and very unpretentious for his wealth.
When dinner was over, I waited for the check, but it never came. “A deal is a deal. Where’s the check?”
“Your money’s no good here.”
“Dude, look. It was our agreement.”
“Did you just call me dude?” He took his ball cap off and swatted my shoulder with it. �
�I own the place, and you can’t pay.”
“You tricked me.”
“The pizza was worth it, though, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I’ll tell all my friends.”
“Nothing like word-of-mouth marketing.”
He drove us back to my house, and I debated the age old question of whether or not to ask him in and decided to throw out all caution. “Want to come in for a bit or do you have to go?”
“Sure. I’m not in a hurry.”
I flipped the TV on to a Dallas Stars hockey game and went to fix us drinks. “I’ve got Coke, Dr. Pepper, Jack, Captain Morgan, Bud Light, Corona, and sweet tea,” I hollered out.
“Is it good sweet tea? I love good sweet tea.”
Since I’d made it fresh that morning, I was hoping it was good by his standards. When I handed him the ice cold glass, I waited for his approval.
“Yum. Did you make this?”
I nodded with a smile.
“It’s a keeper. No one around here does sweet tea very well. You’ll have to show me the trick.”
We sat on opposite ends of the leather sofa, but I extended my feet toward him and tried not to feel awkward. Even though we cheered for the Stars, it didn’t help. They lost.
“Have you been to a game?”
“A live hockey game? No.”
“I’d love to take you. I have season tickets a couple of rows off the glass.”
“That would be awesome.” My answer was almost a shriek.
“How about Thursday?”
“I can’t on Thursdays. I have thera—” I paused and sat up quickly, staring at the floor. I knew my own truth and decided there was no need to hide what I’d been through and what it had taken to get me to the good place I’d come to. “I go to a grief support group on Thursday nights.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Don’t be ashamed. I didn’t go to therapy when my mom was killed in a small plane crash in Africa and because of my anger and my inability to control it, I ended up getting into trouble and going to jail.”
His answer caught me by surprise. He didn’t seem the type, and I would’ve never guessed he would be a man with a rap sheet. I didn’t know what to say. Sure, I wanted to know the whole story, but like my own, sometimes the questions were harder to ask than actually answering them.
Forgiveness Creek: The Creek Series Page 4
