by Kris Calvert
“What seems to be the problem?” David asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
“May I speak freely?” I asked Lewis. Even though David seemed to understand why I was there I wanted to make sure I wasn’t speaking out of school.
“See, Father?” David said with a heart-stopping smile. “She’s already a keeper.”
“Yes, Indie,” Lewis replied with a single slow blink of his eyes. “Please.”
“As I was explaining to your father,” I said as I noticed David’s eyes moving from my face to my open shirt and obviously exposed cleavage, “I still have a family on my patient list. I can’t possibly take the position as defined by the contract. But I was just about to say, I will take him on as a patient.” I looked back to Lewis. “You can pay me through The Path until I no longer work for them and I solely work for you.”
David looked to his father and stared. It was as if they could understand each other without speaking. To my surprise David asked the first question. “Can you estimate how much longer you’ll be with this patient? Are we talking months? Weeks? Days?”
I mustered a smile. “I can’t divulge any information about another patient. I mean, I haven’t signed a ten page confidentiality clause with them,” I said as I picked up the contract that lay on the coffee table in front of me. “But I’m bound by ethics just the same.”
David looked back to his father. Again the silence was deafening, and yet I could feel a charge in the air.
“Indie,” Lewis began as he leaned forward. “You drive a hard bargain.”
I looked to David who shot me a smile.
“And that means?” I asked as I raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
“I want you all to myself. I will wait until you no longer have any type of obligation to The Path or the family. But I want a commitment from you that when that day comes you will come work for me.”
I smiled and nodded. I was getting the best of both worlds. “Done.”
Lewis stood and I quickly came to my feet, as did David. “We’ll send the paperwork over to your house as soon as we hear from you, Indie,” Lewis said as he shook my hand and immediately turned away. “David will show you out.”
I looked to David and then to the floor in embarrassment. “It’s fine, I can find my way.”
“I’m not going to let you navigate this building in the dark. It’s late. Everyone’s gone.”
David got the door for me and I wandered out into the expansive lobby that connected to the express elevator. “Really, I’m fine. I just need to get my car back from…” My mind was a blank and I suddenly had no idea how to get my car.
“Six.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sixsmith. We call him Six. British chap?” David asked with a smile.
“Yes,” I replied as I heard a chime and the mirrored doors opened. “Will I find him downstairs?”
David held out his hand for me to get on the elevator as he waited patiently. I stepped inside and turned to find him following me. “We will find him downstairs.”
I looked to the floor and noticed the beautiful Oriental rug under my feet. The entire building was filled with the best things money could buy. “Your father is a persuasive man.”
“You have no idea, Miss Luce.”
“Indie.”
He gave me a sexy smirk that went all through me and I so hoped he wouldn’t still be by my side when my beater of a car rolled around the street corner, leaving a trail of dust and exhaust in its wake.
“Not to be forward, Indie, but it would be my honor if you’d join me for dinner tonight—if you’re not busy. My father works within a tight group of people. Now that you’re one of them it would give us a chance to get to know one another.”
The chime of the elevator broke my gaze on his beautiful face. “I’m sorry. It’s been a really long day and I have a bunch of paperwork to file tonight.”
“Lose a patient today?” he asked as we walked into the lobby, my stilettos clacking with each step.
“Ummm…” My phone called out in a cartoon boing! I knew by the sound it was a text from Jonathan. Embarrassed, I pulled the phone from the side pocket of my bag and turned off the sound, thankful it hadn’t happened during the meeting.
“What happened to your phone?” David asked with a laugh. “It looks like it’s been run over by a truck.”
“No,” I sighed. “It’s just seen better days. The packing tape holds the cracked screen together and the duct tape holds…well, duct tape holds the world together. Right?”
“Seems to be holding your bag together too. I must say, Indriel Luce, you’re an interesting girl.”
I smiled, not knowing how to respond to his statement. I wasn’t interesting; I was boring. I was poor.
“So, no dinner. Another time then?”
“Of course,” I said with a nod.
“Indie Luce.” The words rolled off his tongue with perfect Italian inflection—just like his father. He stared through me and produced a wicked sexy grin that honestly made me weak in the knees.
“That’s me,” I giggled awkwardly, trying to find the pocket to slip my duct taped phone back into and blushed like a fourteen-year-old girl.
“Voglio stare nella tua luce, Indie.”
“Sorry?”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
I nodded with a smile, afraid if I said another word it would be yes. Yes, lets go to dinner and I can stare into your green eyes and fantasize about what it’s like to have money and my legs wrapped around you. But I was tired, embarrassed and too strung out to interpret whether his overtures were business or personal. Then he took my hand and brought it to his face—again. As he brushed his open mouth across my knuckles like he’d done before, there was no mistaking his intention.
FIVE
As promised, Sixsmith, the adorable Englishman who’d parked my car drove it right to the bottom of the stairs as soon as David said his goodbyes. “Thank you, kind sir,” I said in my best British accent.
“You’re most welcome, Miss Luce,” he replied as he opened the door and waited for me to sit. “There was no rain, and I did have a bit of luck getting your windows to close. I hope that’s acceptable.”
“That’s perfectly acceptable Mr. Sixsmith.”
“Please madam, call me Six.”
“Please call me Indie.”
“Done, Miss Indie. Godspeed.” He gave me a nod and shut the door, giving the roof of the car two pats to let me know it was clear to pull out.
I drove away from the Thornbury Empire and looked for signs to catch the interstate back to Barlow where I could put on my pajamas and complete my paperwork in George’s file. As I entered the busy freeway I listened to my stomach growl and realized I’d not had anything to eat since breakfast. Knowing my refrigerator was as empty as Satan’s heart, I made the decision to go into the town square of Barlow to the corner deli and grocery store, Cortland’s. It was Thursday and that meant I could get fried chicken and maybe even a muffin for breakfast tomorrow.
The family owned and operated store and its owner Burt Cortland had weathered its share of hard times but just like a seasoned prize fighter, Cortland’s got back up and kept on fighting. Their fried chicken was sure to chase away the blues of even the saddest sack in Georgia and tonight I was in desperate need of just that.
By the time I made it into town my stomach was touching my backbone. I needed a diet Coke and sustenance to take me to the next part of my night. I parked across the town square from the deli and knew it was going to be crowded inside. The only thing that filled all the spaces in downtown Barlow was a hanging trial at the courthouse and fried chicken night at Cortland’s.
I locked the car and hip checked the door as per usual. The rain I’d been expecting earlier in the day was just beginning to arrive and I was thankful Six was able to roll my windows up.
Steam rose from the still warm pavement as water from the sky drizzled down. I waved to a group of fi
remen sitting on the ladder truck eating dinner and watching me intently. “How’s the fried chicken tonight, boys?” I called to them.
“So good I wanna slap my momma,” one of them called out.
“Perfect breasts,” another shouted. “But you’d better hurry. I don’t know how much more they have left.”
“What?” I cried as I hurried under the green awning of the storefront and out of the rain. The bell over the door that signaled my entrance was barely audible as the crowd drowned out just about everything. There were people stuffed into the small tables strategically located around the store and others waiting for their brown grocery sack of deliciousness to take home for dinner.
After a five minute wait and a dozen how ya doin’s I was finally at the front of the line. “Please tell me you still have fried chicken, Burt.”
“I’m sorry, Indie. I just sold the last breast and leg.”
“Well that just…”
“Sucks?” he asked with a grin.
I nodded and dropped my shoulders. “Can I get a grilled pimento cheese sandwich?”
“You betcha. I’ll call ya up in two shakes.”
I paid for my dinner and walked away disappointed as I looked around the old store at the people eating their fried chicken and smiling. And then I saw him. It was my mystery man from the park. He sat alone at a table for two. As jam-packed as it was, no one had asked him for the extra chair or to sit with him.
Mike looked at me from across the crowded store with no expression. I smiled and walked toward him only to hear my name called at the front counter.
I turned and grabbed my small brown bag that contained my sandwich and the cold can of diet Coke, giving Burt Cortland a smile.
Turning on my heels, I walked back to the corner and straight to Mike’s table. “Where’s Frank?” I asked.
He answered without looking up. “Not here.”
“How are you, Mike?”
“Fine.”
“Do you mind if I sit at your table?” I asked. “It’s raining outside and I was going to eat fried chicken, but they were out and so I had to settle for a grilled pimento cheese sandwich and well…there’s no place to sit. And since it looks like everyone else is afraid of you, I thought I’d ask.”
“Ask?”
“If I can sit with you.”
Without saying a word he stood, placing his hand over mine as I pulled the chair away from the table. “Thank you. That’s very kind and very gentlemanly of you.”
Dressed in the same basic attire, Mike filled out the plain white t-shirt extremely well and I couldn’t help but notice how wonderfully round and muscular his butt was as he stood. Still in green fatigues and boots, I wondered if he would be a little less standoffish if we were dining at the same table. So I began with the easiest of questions. “How’s the chicken?”
“Everyone seems to be enjoying it.”
“I wanted chicken, but—”
“They were out. I know. You’re eating pimento cheese,” he said looking away.
“Sorry.”
He scanned the room with his eyes and took in everything—everything except me.
“Have I done something wrong?” I asked as I dipped my face, hoping to catch his gaze.
“I don’t know. Have you?”
His voice was so calming to my anxiety-riddled mind and heart. I just wanted to be near him but at the same time I didn’t want to stay if he wanted me to go. “Please,” I begged. “Will you look at me? I feel like you refuse to acknowledge my presence. If this is about me asking you if were homeless in the park, then I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to offend you.”
He brought his downturned eyes from the table to meet mine. As I looked him in the face I saw a flash of white, like if I’d been struck by lightning. It was like nothing I’d ever known. When I refocused I found myself staring into his deep blue eyes and I heard myself gasp as I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort. “Who are you?” I asked in a mumbled whisper.
“Mike,” he replied without looking away.
“Mike…” I repeated the word and felt my heart race uncontrollably. “What are you doing here?”
“Eating fried chicken.”
I tried to catch my breath, but the longer he stared at me with his blue eyes the dizzier I felt. “What?” I asked in a punctuated gasp.
Mike looked away and suddenly the white flash that held me captive released its grip.
“What was that?” I searched his face and entire being as he avoided looking at me directly. “Did you do that? It was like a Jedi mind trick or something. It freaked me out.”
“I don’t do Jedi mind tricks.”
I took a deep breath and felt my stomach growl. I opened my brown bag, looking for my dinner. I was desperate. Pulling the sandwich from its foil wrapper I took a bite and moaned in thankfulness. “Sorry. Maybe my blood sugar was falling and that’s why I felt all wonky. It’s been a rough day.”
“You lost someone.”
“How did you know that? Wait. How did you even know I was a nurse?” I asked, amazed at what he seemed to know without knowing.
“Because you have a badge attached to your bag on the chair that says Indriel Luce, RN.”
I looked to my bag where The Path badge was clipped to the side and thought about how much I hated the photo on my ID. “Oh.”
“So you lost someone today.” he said as he lowered his tone.
I took a deep breath. It was getting hot in the store and I was starting to see spots. I pulled my shirt away from my body and began to pump it full of air when I realized I’d walked into the small town store in my see-through shirt and black bra. It was official, I’d lost my mind. “Oh hells bells. I forgot I had this shirt on,” I said as I caved my back, hoping to make the impression of my breasts and black bra showing through the shirt less extraordinary. No wonder the firemen were watching me outside. “Maybe I should take the rest of my dinner and go home. I’m not…”
“Not what?” he asked as he looked to me and furrowed his brow. His short blond crew cut moved with his scalp as the expression on his face changed from uninterested to possibly caring.
“I’m not having the best day,” I said as I choked back a tear and began searching inside my bag filled with smelly clothes and papers for a tissue. All I came up with was my letter from George.
He placed his strong hand on my wrist and gave a squeeze. A feeling of incredible warmth filled my body and my urge to cry subsided. I whisked away the tear that had already begun to fall with the back of my fingers and looked into his eyes. With a reassuring nod I gave him an unexpected smile.
“What are you doing to me?” I asked.
He shook his head. “What’s in your hand?”
I clutched the single sheet of stationery from George in my palm. “It’s just something my patient left me today.” He nodded but didn’t ask another question yet I felt compelled to tell him what it said. “I don’t even understand what it means, really.” I opened the paper and began to read. “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Strange, right?”
Mike took a deep breath and I watched his muscular shoulders rise and fall. Everyone in the room jumped as a crack of lightning and roll of thunder shook the old building. The storm outside was beginning to kick up.
I wrapped what was left of my sandwich in the foil and shoved it into the brown bag to leave. Mike was up as soon as he saw me stand. “I’m gonna go before it gets too bad out there. My car doesn’t like the rain much.”
After throwing away my drink we made our way to the front door together. “Will I see you again?” I asked as I watched Mike track a car speeding into the town square with only his eyes.
A red Mustang filled with two kids skidded across the pavement in the now pouring rain. I could see the face of the young driver filled with fear and desperation as he lost control of the rumbling car. Ripping over the embankment, I heard a
scream just before impact. The Mustang slammed into the corner brick wall of the First National Savings and Loan. It was as if it happened in slow motion. Everyone in Cortland’s who witnessed the scene gasped and someone shouted, “Call 911!”
I took off my heels, dropped my messenger bag and dinner, running into the rain with a few others. Hurrying to the car, I saw a girl climbing out of the crushed window.
“Help!” she screamed. “He’s trapped!”
I could smell the gasoline and knew we were on the brink of disaster. As the car hissed and sparks from the engine continued to shoot out of the hood, gas seethed from underneath the carriage. A man rushed to grab the girl who was in shock, bloodied and scared.
“The car’s gonna blow!” someone shouted as I tried to interpret the scene. I felt a rush as Mike body-checked me on his way into the crash. Watching it unfold, I felt a sense of incredible power as Mike walked calmly to the car while others backed away frantically.
Wrenching off the door he grabbed the boy who was barely conscious, tossing him away from the wreckage like a ragdoll. I screamed as the car exploded in flames, throwing us all to the pavement. “Mike!”
I laid in the street as the rain poured and watched the boy come to his feet and limp into the crowd as the fire engines and emergency sirens wailed into the square.
“Mike!” I shouted again as I tried my best to stand and move into the fiery crash. Someone pulled me away, picking me up off my feet and dragging me back to safety. “You can’t go in there, Indie!” Burt shouted in my face.
“Mike! He went in to save the boy and then…” I screamed through my tears. “Then the car blew!”
“Indie,” Burt said as he tried to calm me. I resisted and tried to run back to the flames. Grabbing me around the waist and pulling me away he shouted in my ear. “Listen to me! Listen to me!”
I looked to him as the rain poured down on our faces. “There’s no one in there. The boy kicked the door open and got out of the car before it blew.”
“No!” I shouted as I cried into his shoulder. “I saw him.”
“Saw who?”
“I…I saw him, Burt. Mike. The man I was eating dinner with inside your store!”
