“Don’t worry – if you’re squeamish, they can give you juice and a cookie.”
-§-
A few minutes later, I found myself in a brighter waiting room, this time without the delightful ambiance and with the requisite kids screaming. Still, I hesitated to feel worse about my situation, because the last nurse had been rude and the room was freezing. It was impossible not to feel a little sorry for myself, however, when I discovered that the cranky nurse had misled me about the cookie. The receptionist told me I only got that after I was finished, and only if they felt like I might pass out. She seemed to think it was pretty funny that I asked, too. I heard her rattling on about it twice when her colleagues came to her desk.
“Do you see that girl over there? She asked for a cookie!”
“No she didn’t!”
“Ha, ha, ha!”
No doubt as soon as I left they reported my activity to the cranky nurse in Dr. McCavin’s office. The next time I made an appointment to see Dr. McCavin, if she smiled slyly at me, I would know that she knew.
It didn’t matter, however, because I wasn’t going to let them get the better of me at that moment. I had much more important things to worry about, such as having blood drained out of my body by a big needle. Mentally, I was preparing myself for pain and a giant bruise. In fact, if I couldn’t succeed in calming my nerves, I was fairly certain that I would flinch and they would have to stab me over, and over, and over…
I was beginning to feel queasy just thinking about it.
I really wish they would have just given me the cookie.
“Howdy Missus,” a voice to my left called. Turning to take in the tall, lanky man with the white cowboy hat, my defenses instantly went up another notch. Jerry Farner. He was wearing a flannel shirt with his signature tight blue jeans and boots; well, make that one boot. His other foot was in some type of funny cast-like getup that was bright blue and gauzy-looking.
“Hi, Jerry,” I answered, glancing down at the magazine by my chair. It was a men’s magazine about car parts, but I was feeling desperate. In my present state, a conversation with the man who had witnessed one of my all-time most embarrassing moments didn’t seem too appealing.
“I’ve already been here in the buildin’ for about four hours now,” he drawled. I gave him a sympathetic look to express my disgust, and then quickly looked at the magazine, hoping he would take the hint. He slowly got up, positioned himself a couple chairs closer to me, and extended his leg so his damaged foot was clearly in view. In my slightly nauseated condition, I decided to ignore it, focusing solely on the magazine. That became impossible, however, when he began waving the blue foot back and forth in front of me like a flag in the wind. After what seemed like an inordinately long period of silence, I finally looked up at him. He was staring at me, lips pressed tightly into a smile under that mustache.
“Cow stepped on my foot.” He said it so matter-of-factly, it was as though he had commented on the weather. He continued to smile at me, and I wondered if he was remembering my horrible mistake that landed me flat on my back on his hallway rug. My face began to turn slightly pink, and I focused on that magazine.
“I’m certain that wasn’t very pleasant,” I mumbled, realizing that I might know everything there was to know about alternators by the time Jerry was finished.
“You know, it wasn’t that bad. It’s a little sore, but nothin’ I can’t handle.”
Yeah, I’m sure that’s why you’ve been at the doctor’s office for four hours – because you’re such a tough guy.
“’Course then it started to turn a little green, and I started to get a huge blister. I fig’rd I better get it checked out.”
Classic oversharing. How did I always end up sitting next to that person? It was like I had a special radar device strapped to my forehead that attracted all the long-winded people in the room. I silently wondered if they had something in the lab that could remove it permanently.
The radar device – not my head. Cole would have nailed me on that one, for sure.
“How exactly did a cow manage to step on you?” I asked, knowing I would probably regret it in a moment, but at least he would stop talking about the condition of his wound.
“Now that’s a funny story,” he said slowly, combing his mustache with his fingers. “I’ve got this cow named Bessie that’s really more like a pet than anything. I don’t normally give my cows names like Bessie, mind ya. Usually I name them Hamburger, Steak, Rump Roast, things like that. This one, though – when she was just a little thing, she came right up to me and nuzzled my hand. We’ve been friends ever since. You ever raise cows?”
“No.”
“Ever live on a farm?”
“No.”
“You ever been to a farm?”
“Yes.” Well, that once, the night before my wedding, when Sara and Rachel tried to trick me into tipping the cow. For a second I thought about asking Jerry if he ever had cow manure in his mouth, but I decided it was best to keep my thoughts to myself.
“I named the cow Bessie, because every time she would come up to me, I would say, ‘Heavens to Bessie, that cow thinks she’s a dog.’” He laughed at himself – at least I think he was laughing. His shoulders were shaking, but no sound was coming forth. I thought about pointing out that the phrase was actually “heavens to Betsy,” but it didn’t seem worth mentioning.
“So the other day I was standin’ by the fence, just lookin’ out across the field, and Bessie came up to me like she normally does. We stood there for a while, the two of us, while I patted her head. Then, she starts actin’ crazy-like, snortin’ and huffin’ and shakin’. ‘Bessie, what is it?’ I say. That’s when I saw a black snake slitherin’ under the fence. Bessie don’t like snakes much, and all she was tryin’ to do was get away from that thing, but when she jerked away and jumped back, she happened to come down right on the front of my boot. Anyway, that was a few days ago. I saw my doctor this mornin’, and he sent me over to get an x-ray. Now they want me to get some tests done to see if I have an infection. I really didn’t plan to be here all day.” I looked up from the alternators to see that he was completely focused on me and waiting for a reaction.
“That is a lot in one day,” I stated. He nodded emphatically as though he felt validated by my statement.
“Now the doc says I can’t drive home, that I’m gonna have’ta call someone. I sure don’t know who I’m gonna call at this time of day.” He stroked his mustache thoughtfully and looked at his big blue foot.
Oh, dear God, why me?
I should have just been kind and offered him a ride, but the thought of sharing a vehicle with Jerry Farner for over an hour was not tempting in the least. Rifling through my purse, I searched for my cell phone. I forgot to put the phone on vibrate when I came in, and as I prepared to change the volume, I suddenly had a brilliant idea.
“Sorry, it’s a business call,” I said casually, placing the phone by my ear. “Yes, go ahead.”
Of course I felt slightly guilty, but was there really any harm done? He sat there staring at me silently, and I wondered if I should offer him the alternator article – he might get more out of it than I did.
“I’m at the lab – I should be finished soon,” I continued. Jerry began to try to gain my attention, jabbing his finger in front of me in the air, pointing into space. I tried to ignore him for a moment, but as his finger got closer to the end of my nose, I glanced over at him.
“Missus,” he hissed. “Missus.”
“Hold on please,” I said, covering the phone with my hand. “What is it?”
He pointed at a sign on the wall in front of me: No cell phone use allowed in the lab.
Why is the world working against me?
“I’m sorry, I’ll have to call you back.” Tapping my phone absently, I tossed it back in my purse. He smiled his tight-lipped smile, pleased with himself. It probably felt good for him to stop me from breaking a rule, after our previous encounters.
“I don’t have one of them fancy cell phones,” he told me. “If I’m not home, I prob’ly don’t want no one to find me anyhow.” He began to whistle, rolling his bad leg back and forth across the floor, while I pondered telling him that his possession of a cell phone could have already facilitated a ride for him, instead of wondering how he would get home while he sat helplessly in the lab.
“Please excuse me,” I said, making my way back to the reception desk. The lady looked up at me with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Is it going to be much longer? I’m on a tight schedule.”
She looked down at the computer in front of her, and then back at me. “Only a few more to go. It shouldn’t be much longer. If you’d like, I can go to the back and see if I can locate a cookie to keep you occupied while you wait.”
The nurses chuckled behind her, and she smugly stared at my face as I turned around and silently huffed back to my chair. Late night talk show hosts I could handle, but a couple of snarky lab nurses were currently making me want to hide behind a potted plant. It was quite embarrassing.
“Are you hungry, Missus?” Jerry wondered. “I can get you something from the snack machine.”
“No, thank you,” I whispered, feeling even more guilty than before.
“Mr. Farner,” the nurse called from the door. Shifting his weight to his good foot, he rose from his chair.
“Guess it’s time to let them poke around on me a little more,” he mumbled. “See you later, ma’am.” I attempted to smile as he walked past me.
“Jerry!” I blurted, causing him to turn his mustached face in my direction. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
Curse my bleeding heart. How am I going to stomach an hour-long car ride with the aging cowboy?
“I’m much obliged, Missus,” he returned, giving me a grateful smile.
“Camdyn,” a friendly voice called, removing me from my moment of deep self-pity. I looked up to see a petite blonde woman about my age standing in the doorway, holding a clipboard. Quickly gathering my belongings, I walked toward her. “Hi, I’m Andrea. Looks like we’re having some blood work done today?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it’s medically necessary,” I stated solemnly. “At least that’s what I’m told.”
Gesturing toward an open door, she gave me a warm smile. “It’s not as bad as you think. In fact, it will be over before you know it.”
“So I can go now?” I asked jokingly, causing her to laugh.
“Well, not quite that fast. Go ahead and have a seat.”
She began writing my name on endless slips of paper, and once again I felt rather panicky.
“Are all those for me?” Please say no. Please say no.
“Yes – five tests today.” I feel certain she could see the look of terror on my face. “Only one needle – we only have to stick you one time for all five tests. Like I said before, it’s not as bad as you think.”
She began wiping my arm down, clamping a rubber band around my upper arm, and feeling around on my vein. She mentioned that there would be a little stick, and I quickly turned away. It might have been over before I knew it, like she said, but I couldn’t watch. I probably would have jumped ten feet when I saw the needle approaching. Still, it seemed to be taking her a great deal of time to actually take care of her part of the deal. After a moment, I became so annoyed at the delay that I decided to take a little peek, only to find that the needle was already in my arm. I hadn’t felt a thing.
“You hanging in there?” she asked, concentrating on the tubes.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I stated honestly. Piece of cake.
“Okay, you’re all finished,” she said after a moment. “Congratulations on the baby.”
“Thank you!” I answered cheerfully. “If I ever come back here again, I’ll ask specifically for you.”
“Sure, tell all your friends,” she quipped as I opened the door. Walking into the waiting area, I kept my chin up as I passed the reception area, only to find that the jokester receptionist wasn’t there. As soon as I got into the hallway, I realized with a jolt that I had forgotten about the cookie.
I also realized that I had forgotten a six-foot tall blast from the past cowboy with a giant blue foot, and when that realization hit me, I stopped dead in my tracks, threw my head up in the air, and let out a huge sigh.
-§-
“Cole?” I yelled as I walked through the back door, finally making my way home from Memphis. “Are you in here?” He appeared in the hallway, cell phone in his hand.
“I was literally just getting ready to call you,” he informed me. “I got home and you weren’t here, and I was worried. How did it go at the doctor?”
Expelling the breath from my lungs, I stepped out of my heels and bent over, picking them up in one hand. “Well, it was a giant bust,” I complained, leaning against the wall. “Turns out the first appointment is just a lot of paperwork and idiotic questions. The nurse acted like she despised me. I had to give several gallons of blood. I didn’t get to see the doctor at all. They made fun of me because I asked about a cookie, which wasn’t my fault. A lady told me I might never be able to wear my cute shoes again.” Letting out a more exaggerated sigh, I closed my eyes for a second. “Oh, and I had the distinct pleasure of driving Jerry Farner back home from Memphis.”
“Jerry Farner?”
“Yeah,” I reiterated, dropping my handbag on the floor. “Bessie stepped on his foot, you know, when she saw a black snake. Bessie’s his cow, in case you were wondering. He drove himself to Memphis to get some x-rays, and then his doctor told him he couldn’t drive home. Naturally, when I went to the lab he was in there stranded.”
“You’re like an angel,” he stated, giving me an irresistible grin.
“Trust me, I’m no angel,” I insisted with a slight laugh. “I tried everything to avoid taking him home, but in the end, I couldn’t just leave him there.”
“Well, I’m really sorry I wasn’t there,” he answered, moving forward to put his hands on my waist. “If it’s any consolation, Jake and I weren’t having any fun. We were up to our knees in muck, trying to clean out Mrs. Anderson’s crawl space. We managed to make it presentable enough, but that put me in a conundrum. I can’t charge Mrs. Anderson anything – her husband passed away two months ago, and she’s having a difficult time. Add to that the fact that I still have to pay Jake for helping me… Well, I guess I actually lost money today.”
“Now who’s an angel?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m no angel, babe,” he assured me.
“You are to Mrs. Anderson.”
Chuckling, he wrapped his arms around me. “I suppose it only makes sense, since I’m pretty sure I’m in heaven right now.” Snuggling against his chest, I nodded my agreement. “I’ll make your next appointment, no interruptions.”
“Don’t make any promises you can’t keep,” I warned him teasingly.
“Okay,” he breathed with a laugh. “I won’t say anything about the appointment then, but I will love you with every breath in my lungs until the day I die.”
“Well, if that’s the case,” I began, hugging him a little tighter, “who really cares about appointments?”
Chapter Six
Time passes slowly when you want it to move along, and I must say that the first trimester of my pregnancy felt like it had already taken several months rather than weeks. The rumor was that I would feel better once I was past that magical twelve- to thirteen-week point, and I was counting the days of my three remaining weeks with trepidation and excitement.
Rounding the corner of the house after my jog early on a Tuesday morning, I slowed and put a hand on my abdomen. Nothing physically seemed to be happening in that general area just yet, at least not outwardly, but the baby information I had studied indicated that I should stop calling the little guy or gal a pea and instead start calling him or her a kumquat. Never before had I experienced eating a kumquat, and in fact i
t was a rather foreign concept for me, but upon further inspection it seemed that a kumquat was roughly the size of a large olive, which I could totally wrap my head around.
Never mind the fact that I couldn’t force myself to comprehend the fact that an olive was causing such massive trouble. I was still able to enjoy my morning runs, though, usually after having a bout of sickness. That day I managed to eat some toast after I got sick, and so far it was still safely tucked away in my digestive system, so it was a start.
Throwing open the back door, I went straight to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, taking a long drink and staring out the large front window at the wooded area in front of the house. The phone began to ring, and I placed the glass on the counter, dragging the receiver up to my ear.
“Hello,” I said nonchalantly.
“There’s my favorite cousin,” I heard a voice on the other end of the line. “How are things in the great state of Tennessee?”
“Sunny,” I answered warily. “Maureen, is that you?”
“Who else?” She laughed gaily while I outwardly cringed. “I’m on a little break, dear cousin, and I was wondering where I should go for some rest and relaxation. Suddenly, it hit me: Wouldn’t it be grand fun to fly out to visit my cousin Camdyn and gather the eggs from her chickens and pick corn and all those other rustic, primitive activities she enjoys in Tennessee?”
“You’re coming to Tennessee?”
“Coming to Tennessee?” she blurted, feigning surprise. “No, of course not. I’m already here. Hannah and I made reservations at that lovely little B&B you’re always talking about. I called Rosie myself and took care of everything.” The phone slid out of my hand in my surprise and onto the counter, but I retrieved it hastily, hoping that Maureen wouldn’t notice.
The bed and breakfast? Oh no, Hannah can’t stay at Rosalie’s. Not with Rita.
For No Reason (The Camdyn Series Book 4) Page 7
