by Donna Fasano
The older gentleman sported a thick thatch of wavy white hair and a neatly trimmed snowy beard that, Lauren had always thought, would make him a perfect understudy for St. Nick. His blue eyes were bright and shining, and even though she knew he wouldn't be smiling if he had bad news to deliver, she still wanted to hear the actual words.
"He's okay, honey," Doc told her. "He's resting."
Her knees threatened to give way. She released a pent-up breath. Evidently sensing her rubbery-muscled relief, Greg slid his arm around her shoulder. She closed her eyes and leaned toward him, savoring the solid mass of him.
God, I love this man. The notion skittered through her brain and had almost vanished before she even realized she'd thought it.
"How bad was the heart attack?" Greg asked.
"Well, all the tests aren't back yet." Doc ushered them over to a cluster of nearby chairs and sat down, motioning for them to do the same.
Greg let go of her and slid one of the chairs closer to Doc for her.
"The ER guy did a great job," Doc said. "He ordered a full blood panel. But that won't be back for at least another hour. However, the EKG they performed was normal. Dr. Johnson, the heart specialist, is going over that now."
"Normal?" Lauren slid to the edge of the seat. "That's good, right?" Of course, it was good, but she felt senseless at the moment.
Doc nodded. "Very. In fact, it's fairly conclusive that he didn't have a heart attack."
"Oh, Doc," Lauren breathed. "Those are wonderful words to hear."
"So what happened?" Greg was frowning. "Lauren said Lew was in bad shape when she called for an ambulance."
Again Doc nodded. "His pulse was through the roof when they brought him in. They'd gotten it down by the time I arrived." He chuckled. "And my appearance didn't do it any good, I'll say that. Lew didn't want me to examine him since he had started feeling better, but between me and the attending, we were able to talk him into it."
Lauren knew nobody did bullheaded as well as her father.
"I talked with him a while." Doc absently repositioned the stethoscope that was stuffed into the chest pocket of his lab coat. "At first, all he wanted to do was brag about his new girlfriend. Come to find out, I know her. She's a friend of the Katie's."
Lauren nodded. "Norma Jean works for me."
"Seems that Lew and Norma went a little overboard tonight," Doc said. "They had dinner and dessert. Death by Chocolate, Lew called it. And they talked over three cups of coffee. Each." Humor twinkled in Doc's eyes as he looked at Lauren. "I think your dad overdosed on caffeine."
"But he had chest pain," she told him.
"Indigestion from the chocolate." Doc planted his hands on his knees. "Antacids fixed that right up."
Lauren rolled her eyes.
Greg and Doc were smiling, and Lauren could only shake her head.
"I wanted to keep him overnight, just to be on the safe side." Doc got up from the chair. "But he won't hear of it. Says he wants out of here. Claims he's got a date at the Boys and Girls Club with Norma and he needs to get home to catch a couple hours sleep. I promptly told him no one likes a braggart."
Greg and Lauren both stood.
"I did tell him he'd have to stay until we get the blood results. Just as a precaution." Again, Doc unwittingly reached for the stethoscope, as if unconsciously battling a bad habit of losing track of it. "But you can come back and sit with him while he waits." As he talked, he turned and started for the metal doors.
Lauren made a move to follow him, but Greg put a hand on her arm.
"I think I'm going to take off," he said.
She looked at him, surprise forcing her to blink.
Before she could respond, Doc reached out his hand to Greg. "It was good seeing you again, Greg. Too bad it had to be in the wee hours of the morning."
The men chuckled as they shook hands.
"I'll see you inside," Doc said to Lauren, then he tucked his hands into the pockets of his lab jacket and traipsed away.
The idea that Greg would leave now confused Lauren. "You don't want to come in and see Dad?"
"Nah. Doc said he's okay." He avoided meeting her gaze. "You go ahead in. I'll touch base with Lew this weekend. I'll be sure to give him what for about all that caffeine."
He turned to leave, and she felt suddenly and strangely panicky. She reached out and touched his sleeve. The cotton fabric was warm from his body and his forward momentum tugged it from her grasp. But he did stop and look at her.
"Greg." She went quiet. Moistened her lips. Frowned. "Thank you. For everything."
His black eyes held hers for only an instant, and then he nodded before heading for the door leading out to the street.
As she watched the automatic doors open and Greg walk out of the hospital, her insides felt like a tightly coiled spring. She'd divorced the man, berated him, bad-mouthed him, been rude to him, verbally wounded him, yet after a single phone call, he'd come to her.
He was a good man.
But she had always known that. Somewhere inside, she had. Things had gotten in the way, is all. Her anger. Her inability to forgive. Her sheer and utter stupidity. Everything that had been blinding her had dissolved in the last hour or so. Here under the blaring lights of the ER waiting room, she was once again able to see Greg as the man she had fallen in love with, the man she had chosen to marry.
In the very instant that the night swallowed Greg in darkness, Lauren realized she was in deep trouble. She'd ruined everything, made a terrible blunder. And it was a mistake that couldn't be fixed. In leaving, in refusing to accompany her back into the exam room, he had sent her a clear and obvious message.
They were no longer a couple. No longer a family.
Chapter 17
You're giving me the, 'It's not you, it's me' routine?
I invented, 'It's not you, it's me.' Nobody tells me it's them, not me.
If it's anybody, it's me!
~George Costanza
Lauren shuffled the bags, cups, purse and briefcase she carried so she could open her office door. She'd run into a friend at Starbuck's and now her day was starting fifteen minutes off schedule.
"Morning, Norma Jean. Brought you a chocolate chip muffin and a latte." She huffed to catch her breath.
"Ooo, chocolate chip." Norma waggled 'give me, give me' fingers at Lauren. "My favorite."
"Sorry, I'm late. Is Margaret in my office?"
"Relax." Norma opened the little brown sack, indulging in a deep inhalation. "She canceled."
"But we're meeting with opposing counsel next week to discuss division of assets." Lauren had unloaded on Norma's desk and was untying the sash of her trench coat.
"Apparently, the Shanahans reconciled this weekend." Norma pulled a napkin out of the bag. "You're free until ten fifteen."
The coat slipped from her shoulders and she caught it. She stood there looking at Norma. "I guess, that's good news. For them, anyway." Then she went to the closet. "Might as well go ahead and work up Margaret's bill."
When she turned around Norma was popping the lid off her coffee. "How's Lew this morning?"
"Much better," Lauren told her.
His visit to the ER two nights ago had worn him out and he'd had to cancel his volunteering session at the Boys and Girls Club. Norma had stopped to check on him on her way home from the computer class, but he'd been napping.
"We ordered de-caf," Norma said for what must have been the tenth time.
They had both sworn as if under oath that they believed their waitress had served them regular coffee by mistake after dinner. Norma had complained of insomnia, too.
"Stop," Lauren said softly. "I believe you."
Norma sipped her latte. "Mr. Minuteman called already this morning."
Lauren instantly knew to whom Norma was referring, and she was pleased with her self-control. Her lips barely twitched. Reacting to the nicknames Norma thought up for Scott would only encourage the incorrigible woman. Ever since Lauren had reveal
ed his less than spectacular bedroom skills, Norma had conjured some extremely inventive monikers.
Fast Freddie. Pronto Pete. Mr. Rapid Rod. Hypersonic Howie. The Winged Weiner. Hair-trigger Harry. Although the list was obviously a work in progress, one name still stood out among the rest. Lauren had nearly spewed tea out her nose when she'd read Norma's memo, alerting her she'd had a telephone message from Mr. Two Shakes.
"I don't think he believed me when I told him you weren't in yet."
Lauren pried the lid off her chi tea and then snitched a pinch of Norma's muffin. "I really am going to have to break down and talk to him." She munched the moist cake, savored the rich chocolate as it melted on her tongue.
"He's determined to see you," Norma told her. "He scheduled an appointment."
Lauren couldn't believe her ears. "Here?"
Norma looked at her as if to ask, where else? "Said he was willing to pay a consultation fee if it meant he could talk to you."
Lauren shook her head. "I haven't put him off that long, have I?" Without waiting for an answer, she shot Norma a look. "Did you give him an appointment?"
Again, Norma nodded. Then she grinned. "A week from this Thursday."
She laughed. "Now that's low. I'll call him—"
The front door opened and who walked in but Mr. Two Shakes, himself. A double dose of adrenalin surged through Lauren. The first, caused by the fact that she'd been avoiding the man like a bad case of fleas, and hearing that he'd made an actual appointment in order to see her, she knew that he knew it. The second, due to his walking into the middle of a conversation where he was the hot topic.
"Morning, ladies."
She nodded and immediately lifted her cup to her mouth to cover her too-rigid smile.
Rejecting prospective clients was a skill at which she'd become adept. Telling some people no was a necessity if she wanted to keep her good standing in the legal community, so why she was balking at facing Scott was beyond her. Probably because the clients she turned away wanted her to break the law or act against good moral judgment, whereas she couldn't come up with a viable reason to stop seeing Scott. Well, she had a viable reason, but not one she felt comfortable communicating to him. Telling a man his 'technique' was lacking was something no woman wanted to do.
"How have you been, Lauren?" On the same breath, he added, "I've missed you."
The plastic smile that had taken her lips hostage refused to budge. "Hi, Scott. I've been well."
When a beat passed and she didn't say anything more, his blue eyes took on a whipped-puppy defenselessness.
"I was hoping you could give me five minutes."
Her heart thudded. "Wish I could, but—"
"Three minutes?" he countered.
Lauren didn't dare make eye contact with Norma.
"Oh, go on, Lauren," Norma chided gently. "Give the man three minutes. I'm sure he'll be quick."
Her gaze flew to Norma's face and she saw a wicked and teasing light dancing in the women's brown eyes and on her twitching lips.
"Scott, let's go back to my office," she said, amazed that she could get the words out without bursting out laughing. She ushered him down the short hallway. Hurting Scott wasn't something she wanted to do, and if she could avoid it, she would. She was just closing the door when he spun around to face her.
"I've got some great news," he told her. He reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out what looked like a business card. "I've found a woman who's interested in your carousel figures. She's a dealer. She's got one consignment shop in Frederick and two in the DC area. I showed her pictures and—"
"Pictures? How'd you get pictures?"
He looked momentarily chagrinned. "I went out there. To the barn. I tried to call you to ask if it was okay, but. . .well, we kept missing each other, and then, well—" he shrugged "—I just wasn't able to reach you."
"I've been really busy," she said.
His mouth flattened, but he said nothing.
Lauren's attention focused on his mouth and she wondered for what must have been the thousandth time how someone who melted her insides with a kiss could be so lousy between the sheets.
"Anyway, I, ah," he continued, softly, "showed this woman the horses and carnival animals she was very excited. Said she thought the restoration looked to be top rate and that you could get a good price for them."
When she made no move to take the business card from him, he set it on her desk. Lauren tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then crossed her arms under her breasts. "Scott, I'm. . .surprised. I can't believe you've gone to all this trouble."
"You said from the start that you wanted to sell the figures." He lifted his hands, palm up. "I thought you might appreciate. . .my doing something to—" again he gestured with his open hands "—help."
Please don't dump me, is what she read in his tone. She sighed. "Scott, I do appreciate what you've done. I do, but. . .you see. . .the thing is. . ."
"You don't want to see me anymore." He blurted the words as if he was pulling out a splinter so it wouldn't pain him any longer.
Again, she sighed. She was going to have to address this issue at some time. She was going to have to tell him that he was right; she didn't want to see him anymore. She only hoped he didn't want an explanation. But then she said, "I'm not selling the figures."
"Oh." He was taken aback.
A half smile stole over her lips, accompanied by a laughter that bubbled up from out of nowhere. Wow. She felt as surprised as he looked. The idea of not selling the animals hadn't entered her head, but now that the words were out, it felt too right not to be. . .right.
"So what are you going to do?" he asked.
She shook her head, her smile widening. "You know, I have no idea at the moment. But I'm not too worried about it. Something will come to me."
He nodded and then just stood there watching her; after a moment he slid his hands into his trouser pockets. "So. . .where exactly do we stand? You and I."
As far apart as possible, she thought.
"You want to have dinner tonight?"
She glanced toward the window, then back at him. He deserved her undivided attention. She shook her head and kept her tone as gentle as possible as she murmured, "I'm sorry, Scott."
"Aw, Lauren." His exhalation was forced. "I knew it. What happened? I thought things were going great. We went out for some great meals. We laughed. We even had some sex."
Lauren dipped her chin and scrubbed at her forehead with her fingertips, banishing from her mind the image that he was offering her a Tic Tac.
"We had fun together, didn't we?" he pleaded.
She steeled herself and looked into his face. "Scott, you're a great guy."
"So. . .what?" Misery bit into his brow. "Tell me what I did to put you off."
She opened her mouth, but then closed it again without speaking. How on earth was she supposed to explain when the truth would only hurt him?
Putting on her best lawyer-like face, she said, "It's just that I've decided I'm not ready to date. It hasn't been all that long since my divorce was finalized. I thought I was ready, but. . .as it turns out, I'm not." He looked dubious. So much so that she felt the need to add, "Believe me, Scott. It's not you. It's me."
His broad shoulders fell. "Yeah. Okay. I guess."
For a moment, she feared he was going to press the issue, but then he raked his fingers through his tawny hair and offered her a goofy grin.
"It was good while it lasted, huh?"
She smiled. "It was." Allowing him a little dignity wouldn't hurt anyone.
He moved to leave and she took a side step to let him pass. He opened the door and then paused with is hand on the knob. "Maybe I'll see you around?"
"Maybe."
But they both knew that wouldn't happen. Scott slowly drew the door closed behind him, and Lauren heaved a sigh. But his plea instantly echoed in her head.
Tell me what I did to put you off.
Cou
ld he really not know? Could he be oblivious to what had happened between them in his bedroom?
Tell me what I did. . .
"Damn," she whispered aloud. "He doesn't know."
She covered her mouth with her fingertips, let them slide slowly down over her chin, off her face, her mind whirling. The voices of all the women Scott would date in the future seemed to cry out to her, begging her to set straight this man's sexual sonar. Before she could mull over any second thoughts that might dissuade her, she yanked open the door.
"Scott," she called, stopping him in his tracks.
He turned around to face her.
"I have three pieces of advice."
He went utterly still.
"Practice self-control. Slow way down." She paused, hoping against hope that he understood the message. "And pay attention to your partner."
He blanched, his forehead smoothing, his spine straightening.
Flames of mortification were just beginning to lick at his neck and face when Lauren closed her office door and leaned her back against it. She'd embarrassed him, yes. But she'd also been honest about his problems.
She could almost hear the women in his future applauding.
Chapter 18
I got gaps. You got gaps. We fill each other's gaps.
~Rocky Balboa
Lauren was still reclining against her office door when she heard the soft knock from the other side.
"He's gone," Norma Jean told her. "He sure didn't look happy. You okay, in there?"
Releasing her tightly folded arms, Lauren turned and let Norma in.
"Yeah." She exhaled a sigh. "But that wasn't easy. For either of us."
Norma shook her head. "Lord, his face was beet red. He ignored me completely when I told him to have a great day."
Lauren walked to the center of the room, stretching the kinks out of her neck and shoulders. The encounter had her muscles as tight as a coiled spring. "It's over," she told Norma. "I broke it off, neat and clean."
As neat and clean as any break up could be, that was. Lauren combed her through her hair, her blonde locks flying back as she stared out the window.
