by Anthology
“What?” Jory gasped in surprise. “How did a drug that is no longer available in the U.S. get into our facility? Let alone into one our patient?”
“It is not…it can’t be,” stuttered Dr. Sinclair.
“You are looking at the lab report just as I am,” Snarky Royce responded. “Explain to me how is it in my wife’s vitamins?”
“I don’t know?” Dr. Sinclair admitted.
“You know that is the problem with you Dr. Sinclair, you don’t know what the hell is going on in your own clinic!” Melony could tell that Royce was on the verge of losing his temper. She blinked several times in rapid succession trying to get his attention.
Luckily it worked and distracted him from Dr. Sinclair.
“What is it baby?” Royce picked up her hands. She could see him holding it just on the edge of her visual range. “Are you in pain?”
Blink. Blink. “No.”
“You really are a stupid woman.” Kenneth laughed crazily into the room.
“What do you know about this Kenneth?”
“Oh, I may know something, but I’m not telling. After all I have the right not to incriminate myself.”
“The vitamins were originally ordered shortly after your wife’s arrival at the facility,” Jory told Royce.
She was standing just behind him and Melony could see her using some sort of tablet. “The order was signed and verified by Dr. Makamonee but has been automatically renewed by Dr. Sinclair every year.”
“Of course, I renewed them. They were helping the resident,.” stuttered Dr. Sinclair hands held up.
Jory continued own. “At the same time an order was put in by the same Dr. Makamonee for two pints of blood every ninety days. Which happens to coincide with the shifts that Kenneth worked. He has done this approximately…” Jory closed her eyes while she did some quick calculations. “Twenty-three times since Mrs. Copenhagen arrived.”
“What the fuck.” Chaos exploded into the room.
“But what is the point of giving her the Rapacuronium?” Royce demanded.
“Rapacuronium combined has a longer half-life than what we were giving her, so she wouldn’t fight the ventilator.” Dr. Sinclair explained, “It would continue to cause paralysis to your wife when we thought we were weening her off the ventilator. When she was unable to breathe on her own and we thought that there was unknown damage to her brain stem it was probably the Rapacuronium still influencing her.”
Melony saw Dr. Sinclair drop her head. Then she took a deep breath. “Chances are if we halt the vitamins and give your wife a little while she would most likely be able to breathe on her own and make a full recovery.”
“Are you saying, Melony could have been out of this coma years ago if it wasn’t for this drug?” Royce tone was quiet which scared Melony. She didn’t know what he would do at Dr Sinclair’s answer.
“Yes,” she affirmed voice soft, wavering, defeated.
“Son of a bitch.”
Royce was going to be bald soon. “Who is this Dr. Makamonee?”
“I don’t know,” Dr. Sinclair reluctantly admitted.
Kenneth let out another bizarre cackle. “Stupid. You people are so stupid.”
“That’s it! I’m going to kill you.” Royce let go of Melony’s hand. Luckily for Kenneth, Jory got in his path.
“It’s not worth it. Trust me if it was I would have given him pillow therapy years ago,” Jory admitted with a chuckle.
“There never was or is a physician named Dr. Makamonee,” Dr. Sinclair said, her voice soft, tiny, defeated.
“Okay, I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but by the sounds of it this case goes beyond simple assault,” the security guard/police officer stated. “I’m going to contact the detective to come and investigate. Now, we are taking this guy down and booking him.”
They quickly ushered Kenneth out of the room.
“We are going to unhook your wife’s ventilator,” Dr. Sinclair told Royce as Jory started to turn off machines. After a few minutes the persistent hum, that existed stopped. Melony didn’t even feel when they removed the tube from her mouth.
“Umm,” Jory cleared her throat. “I’m going to go review your wife’s chart.” She quietly left the room.
“It is good that your wife is breathing now that the machine has stopped. The next few hours will make a difference. I will have the nurse come and put some eye drops in her eyes to keep them from drying out. Just continue to talk to her as she comes out of it. Notify us when she moves.” Dr. Sinclair instructed before slipping out of the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It started with a twitch of her little toe before slowly moving up her leg. The nerve endings were coming alive. They made themselves known as the tingling got stronger. She could barely contain her excitement.
She spent the last couple of hours of the night with Royce holding her hands as he talked about the six years of his life that she had missed out on. He caught her up on their friends and family.
The memory came back of how her parents hadn’t survived the car accident that landed her in the coma in the first place. She knew that eventually she would grieve, but right now she was anxious to hear about how life moved on while she lay in bed vegetating.
She was sad at the fact that several of their friends had children while she lay in bed. She and Royce had always talked about having children. She wondered if this was something that could happen still. Was her body okay for that?
“I have a confession to make,” Royce stated as he got up off the chair he pulled up next to her bed. He grabbed a container that she couldn’t see, but as soon as the top came off it a familiar scent wafted towards her nose.
Watermelon Spice.
“I knew something was going on with you. I just didn’t have any idea what it was.” Royce put his hands into jar dipping his hand into the body lotion. She noticed that this time the sound of gloves was missing. She didn’t see him putting on gloves either.
She could feel the touch of his hands as he smoothed the lotion onto her legs. She wondered just how hairy her legs were at this point.
“I have been suspicious of Dr. Sinclair for a while now.”
Well duh. He was so obvious she picked it up, in a coma.
“So I borrowed another syringe of your so-called vitamins and had them tested.” He paused to add more lotion to his hands before continuing with the massage and the explanation. “The labs at Copenhagen Conglomerate had already found the Rapacuronium in your vitamins. It took them a few weeks to get the proper amount of anticholinergic calibrated to counteract its affect. I don’t know if you realize what was going on. According to the lab guys you should have had periods where your mind was awake, but you may have been unable to move.”
Melony was surprised. That is exactly what she had been experiencing. But her being unable to sense time made it difficult for her to tell how often she experienced consciousness.
“Then making sure it didn’t interact with the Watermelon Spice body lotion took a little bit of tweaking.”
More feeling was returning to Melony’s body. She could feel the heat that Royce’s touch was generating. If she could, she would laugh at the feeling.
At least her libido survived the accident. She wondered how long it would be before she could act upon the feelings that his touch was invoking.
Priorities Melony, priorities.
“The doctored Watermelon Spices was the only way we could think of getting the antagonist into your body without raising any suspicions with the staff and whoever was deliberately keeping you in the coma.”
By this time Royce had reached her upper body. Melony turned her head and attempted to speak.
“Ro..Ro..” She cleared her throat. “Royce.” She managed to croak out.
A huge grin crossed Royce’s face at the sound. His brown eyes sparkled with love as he pulled Melony into his arms.
“You are really out of that coma,” he whispered as he planted kisses across he
r face. “I missed you so much. I love you so much,” he chanted as he hugged her.
“I luv…love you,” Melony croaked. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”
“Never.” He promised as tears streamed down his face. “You are my heart. My reason for living.”
“Love you so much.” Melony reached up with difficulty attempting to touch his hair. Her arm was weak from lack of use. She quickly grew tired at the effort to touch him. She just needed a small feel of him. To see if her memory was failing her. Her arm fell on his as he gently gripped it.
His grip was gentle, but strong. His skin was just as soft as she remembered, tears ran from her eyes.
They had missed so much time together because of someone’s greed. She was determined to get that time back. He must have read something in her eyes, the need to touch him, he leaned down, his soft lips covering hers.
Her heart was bursting with love. She tried to convey six years of missed kisses in that one moment.
Their lips parted with a sigh and Melony’s eyes fluttered open. She saw love in Royce’s eyes. The love that was there the first day of their meeting as five-year-old’s in the front yard as new neighbors. The love that was reflected right back at him, in her eyes.
EPILOGUE
It had taken a while, but it was worth the wait. The day had finally come that Kenneth Roderick Cunningham was sentenced to prison for the harm that he caused Melony and Royce.
Once all the pieces had been uncovered it had been a simple enough plan. He discovered that Melony had a rare blood type in high demand by research companies while working the night shift at Leisure Haven.
He created the fictional Dr. Makamonee in the facility computer system so that he could order the vitamins and place the order for the blood work.
Everything had been going as clockwork until he had been caught and then fired. He legally changed his name and his nursing credentials. He knew the agency that the facility used when they were short staffed and hired on there.
It was just his luck that when he returned for his first shift that he found out that the people he worked with previously had moved on to other jobs. His luck held out long enough for him to get a hold of Melony’s chart and change out the picture they had in there for the restraining order.
From that point forward it was smooth sailing. He volunteered to work the night shift on her floor every ten to twelve weeks. Just in time for the blood collection which he performed and had sent to the research company that would pay him a large amount of money.
If Royce hadn’t finally got fed up with the lack of change in Melony’s case nobody knew how long he would have continued on with his big scam. Today he was sentenced to twenty years in his very own prison cell. At least in his prison he would be able to move around.
Dr. Sinclair had been found guilty of medical negligence. She had lost her medical license and Leisure Haven had been sold to pay for the settlement that Melony had been awarded. The condescending doctor was still dealing with her other legal troubles as other families of patients from Leisure Haven filed suit against her and her staff.
Melony skipped out the courthouse, physical therapy had worked wonders. The skirts of her Watermelon Spice dress swished around her knees, matching heels on her feet, as she danced next to her husband Royce. She paused to let the sun beamed down on her face. She opened her eyes to beam a smile at her husband, the love of her life.
He leaned down and kissed her full on the lips. Melony returned the kiss with all the built-up passion in her.
"Let’s go home.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DONNA R. MERCER writes romances that she doesn't like to label but contains bold characters that are not afraid to push the boundaries. She brings her own unique outlook on life to her writing which she shares with her readers. It's cheaper than therapy. Join her on a journey into the unknown wonders of her mind. Seatbelts are optional.
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MY BOYFRIEND’S DAD
by Jade C. Jamison
CHAPTER ONE
Some people in my small town might wonder how I made it to my eighteenth birthday. But I did. I made it to adulthood…in spite of my mother.
Some people might also find it strange that she wasn’t around to help me celebrate—but I was used to her absence now more than not.
Don’t worry. I was celebrating, just not with her. Instead, my boyfriend Brendan invited me over to his house for a gourmet meal followed by cake and ice cream. While his dad slaved away in the kitchen, I sat on Brendan’s bed—next to the giant suitcase he was filling with clothes.
His room was typical—twin bed, night stand with lamp, oak dresser, desk with his computer, athletic trophies on a couple of shelves—but Brendan had to be one of the neatest guys I knew. I loved spending time in there. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Bren,” I said, shrugging my shoulders and looking up at him.
Brendan shook his head, causing his blond hair to fall in his eyes. It was strange. Brendan had always had super short hair but he’d been growing it out over the summer. The one time I told him it looked sexy, he rolled his eyes. “It’s just for two weeks, Bree. You won’t even know I’m gone.”
“That’s what you think,” I said, standing. As Brendan folded another t-shirt and placed it neatly into the suitcase, I wound my arms around his neck, looking up at him and forcing him to return my gaze. “You’ll have lots to do. The only thing that’ll keep me occupied is my babysitting jobs.”
“Shoulda taken that job at Bob’s.”
Bob’s meant Bob’s Burger Barn. Logically, I knew Brendan was right, but the last thing I wanted to do was work full-time over the summer for a local fast food restaurant, especially one whose décor resembled the inside of a farm building. Even though I could drive, I didn’t have a car, so I also didn’t care for the idea of sweating in a kitchen all day and then walking home in the harsh afternoon heat of summer—or, worse yet, in the evening when it was cooler but I was more vulnerable. Nope. Babysitting was better because the families gave me rides both to and from my home, and the pay wasn’t bad.
Yeah, I should have been saving for my future—and working a full-time job would have helped—but Brendan was my future. I saw myself with him forever, including the white picket fence, two kids, and a dog. And if we had each other, I wouldn’t need to worry about amassing a work history full of burger joints and scraping pennies from those dumb jobs.
I kissed Brendan hard on the lips and he responded, placing his hands on my hips and sliding his tongue into my mouth. It had taken us the entire two years we’d been together, but he was officially a great kisser. Still, I wanted more.
I started snaking my hands down the front of his shirt and then, when I reached the bottom, I slid them up underneath. I loved feeling his musculature, because he was into weight training. Physically, he blew away all the other boys in our class. My sweet boyfriend cared more about his appearance than most of the guys I knew, and that included his physique. Lucky me.
My fingers relished the sensation of touching his tight, hard abs, and I started feeling tingly all over. For a while now, I’d been dying to have Brendan touch me the same way. At first, I’d thought it was because he was trying to be a gentleman.
As my fingers neared his pecs, he said, “Bree—” putting an end to our kiss.
I got ready to protest like I had many times before when we heard his dad at the bottom of the stairs. “Kids, dinner’s ready!”
Brendan raised an eyebrow at me, his brown eyes telling me in no uncertain terms that we were done with our little make out session. I sighed as he took my hand to lead me down to the dining room. Clever move, because then I couldn’t even smack his butt. Maybe he’d sensed my intentions.
I tried to be happy as we walked down the stairs. After all, preparing a meal for my birthday was supposed to make me feel loved and wanted, but, I supposed, I was suffering from sexual tension—and there was no relief in sight.
A
s we made our way into the dining room, I said, “Mr. Brown, dinner smells amazing!”
He turned, smiling. I’d never met Brendan’s mom, but I imagined my boyfriend had inherited most of his obvious traits from her—other than his height, because he was almost as tall as his dad. Otherwise, they looked a lot different. Mr. Brown had dark brown hair and vibrant blue eyes. Oh, he seemed to be in great shape, too, but putting these two men together, I wouldn’t have guessed that they were father and son. Brendan had the cutest dimples. “Now that you’re eighteen, Briana, you’ll have to call me Logan.”
Logan. I’d known that was his dad’s name, but it felt strange to my tongue. Every adult in my life, other than my mom, was known as Mr., Mrs., or Ms. Something. I wasn’t quite ready to call him by his first name because it felt unusual. For now, though, I could humor him. “Okay, Logan.” Yep. Weird.
His smile had always felt so warm and genuine, and the first time Brendan had brought me home to meet his dad, I’d felt welcome there—sometimes more than I did my own home. I smiled back and watched as he placed large pieces of chicken on a platter from a baking dish.
I loved eating at their house. It was better than the usual fare at my home or at the school cafeteria. Mr. Brown—er, Logan—walked the platter over to the table in the dining room area which was separated from the kitchen by an imaginary line between the two rooms. Their home felt elegant to me—spacious, full of windows, with fine furnishings and nice things. I appreciated the break from my cramped, dark house.
“I wanted to make something special, Briana. Have you ever had Chicken Kiev?”
“No. It looks good.”
“It’s awesome,” Brendan said. “How come you never make stuff like that for me, dad?”
