* * *
I pulled on an oversized tee-shirt and maternity jeans, and went to visit Paul’s great-grandfather, Daniel. Since he was well over a century old, I wanted to make the most of any opportunities I had, to spend time with him.
The nursing home was on the outskirts of town, surrounded by an acre of land. It was surprisingly peaceful. The staff seemed to actually enjoy the oldsters and constantly thought of new activities they could do. Right now, Daniel was the reigning tournament champ of Wii bowling, although he had to cede his title in Wii boxing to an 80-year old newcomer.
When I got out of the SUV, the sun was bright and hot and cheerful and my guess was that the temperature was hovering around eighty degrees. I wondered what Daniel was going to say about the unusual weather.
* * *
I walked into his room just as Raoul, one of the nurses and a part-time stylist/barber/make-over artist for the oldsters, was finishing Daniel’s shave.
“Hello, Miss Mara,” he said, cheerfully.
“Have a seat,” Daniel said. “I’m getting prettified. This may take awhile.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
Raoul gently placed a steaming hot towel on Daniel’s craggy jaw. “Let me know if it’s too hot, sir.”
Daniel cackled. “I have elephant hide for a face. Can’t be too hot.”
“What would you like today, for your hair cut?”
“Make me look like George Clooney. I got some hot young honeys I need to impress.”
Raoul ruefully shook his head, grinning. “Ayyy, too bad I’m all out of miracles.”
Daniel cackled. “You used them up giving Mrs. Norbert a full head of hair, didn’t you?”
Raoul grinned. “You know I don’t style-and-tell. Client-hairdresser privilege. How about a trim and blow dry?”
Daniel winked at me. “Don’t get old,” he said. “Life becomes all about settling.”
“It’s better than the alternative,” I replied.
“There is that,” he nodded, then turned his attention to Raoul. “If you can’t do Clooney, let’s go for Cary Grant.”
“Mister Daniel,” Raoul protested. “I’m a nurse, not a plastic surgeon.”
I laughed. “You don’t need a barber, Daniel. You need a magician. Too bad Houdini’s dead.”
“Hey, now,” Daniel frowned. “Respect your elders, you young whippersnappers. Or I’ll put both of you in a time-out.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “If Raoul can make you look anything like Cary Grant—even if it’s Cary Grant’s great-grandfather—I’ll take you both out for dinner. You pick the day.”
“Did you hear that? We have a challenge on our hands.” Daniel said.
Raoul laughed. “Don’t you worry, sir. We’re going to win this bet.”
“I pick a Monday.” Daniel said. “Monday dinners are disgusting. Okra. Who the hell ever looked at okra and decided it was supposed to be edible?”
“Mondays work for me.” Raoul said.
“Dinner time around here is four p.m. It’ll be like a late lunch for you two young-ins. They like us to be in bed by eight. You’d think we were toddlers.” Daniel flipped through his daily planner. “I’m booked for the next four Mondays, but the fifth one is all yours, sweetheart.”
I took out my smartphone and added it to my calendar. “Done.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I’ve heard all about you youngsters and your menage-a-trois Mondays,” Daniel said, with a grin, waggling his freshly trimmed eyebrows.
“Oh, now, there’ll be none of that,” Raoul said, faking shock. “You’d better be on your best behavior, missy.” He winked at me. “I don’t want people saying you’re buying us lunch just to get in our pants. Especially this strapping stud here,” he said, nodding at Daniel. “The ladies will be beside themselves with jealousy.”
“It’ll be difficult, but I’ll try to restrain myself.” I could feel my lips twitching as I tried not to laugh.
“Hell with that. I’ll let you grope me a little.” Daniel chuckled. “Maybe even more than a little. Gotta keep up my reputation as a ladies’ man or all the chickens around here will be looking for a new rooster.”
The door opened and Paul walked in, clearly surprised and a little angry to find me there.
Chapter 15
“Mara? What are you doing here?” Paul asked, frowning.
“Don’t you go running off my girlfriend,” Daniel warned him. “She’s here to see me, not you. You’re not the only cock of the walk in this town.”
I smothered another grin. “It such a nice day, I thought Daniel and I could take a stroll around the garden.”
“I’ll see if I can squeeze you in on my dance card, young lady.” Daniel chuckled. “I’m pretty hot stuff. And I’ll be the bee’s knees as soon as Raoul is finished with his magic.” He checked his day planner. “Sorry, cookie. I’m seeing Gladys after lunch, Ruthie’s my dinner companion and then I have an evening date with Carolyn, to watch The Great Gatsby.”
“See how you are? As soon as the women start lining up for you, you forget all about me.” I teased him.
“Never,” he grinned. “But how often is summer going to show up in the middle of winter? Gotta strike while the iron’s hot and the piston’s are firing. If you don’t use it, you lose it. That’s a medical fact.”
“Hold on, there,” Paul frowned. “Don’t you think you’re being a little ambitious? And by date, what do you mean exactly?”
Daniel’s face hardened. I looked into his mind and saw exactly what the answer was. It wasn’t going to make Paul happy. The old man actually did have three different dates, with three different women, and Daniel was looking forward to a little night-time nookie with at least one of them.
I stepped in and covered for him. “Paul, knock it off. Daniel grew up in a more innocent time. I’m sure his idea of date and your idea of date are completely different.”
“Not to mention, I’m a grown-ass man,” Daniel fumed. “I changed your dirty diapers, boy. If I want to go out and walk the streets, looking for a good-time girl, it’s none of your never-mind.”
“Everyone calm down,” I said. “Paul’s just trying to look out for you, Daniel. He didn’t mean it the bossy way it sounded.”
Paul was about to protest, so I shot him a dirty look to shut him up. I didn’t know what would happen if they started fighting and Daniel’s blood pressure got too high, and I didn’t want to find out. So I pushed that thought as hard as I could at Paul.
Somehow, Paul got the message and shut up.
Daniel harrumphed a few times, but he settled down too.
Then it suddenly dawned on me: I had looked into Daniel’s mind.
Whoa!
* * *
While it had always been easy for me to tell if people were lying or not, this was the first time I had looked into someone’s head and saw their thoughts as clearly as if I was watching a TV show, or reading a book.
It had to be Devil’s Point. It seemed to magnify everything, from ritual work to pineal gland abilities. I know it was bad of me, but I opened up my sight and dipped into all the minds in the room—just to see if I could do it.
Along with wondering how in the world he was going to make Daniel look like Cary Grant, Raoul was thinking about going home to his family. His shift was going to be over in another hour, and his wife was making homemade tamales. They were expecting another baby, and his thoughts were a jumble of anticipation, nervousness, worry about money and nostalgia about his grandmother’s tamales.
Paul, on the other hand, was fuming. And he was angry with both Daniel and me. He was scared Daniel’s social schedule was going to kill the old man, and he was furious that I kept butting into his life. I was the equivalent of a one-night stand from hell, who would never go away. If he could do it over again, he would have totally accepted jail time and fines for texting and driving instead of giving me his cell phone and getting mixed up in my craziness…
&
nbsp; I gasped, hurt and angry, temporarily drawing everyone’s attention to me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I thought I saw a spider.”
Paul rolled his eyes.
On the other hand, maybe it was all my imagination. What if I was just supplying their thoughts, rather than reading them?
To test it out, I asked Raoul: “I heard your wife is expecting. Is it your first time having a baby?”
Raoul chuckled while he focused on Daniel’s haircut. “No, this is our second. My wife, she wants to stay home with the kids until they’re in kindergarten.”
“I can understand why. That’s got to be hard on you though, if you’re the only one working.”
Raoul nodded. “But kids, they need their mama. So, if I need to take another job, it’s what I have to do.”
“Isn’t that sweet? So, you have a traditional marriage? You make the money, while she stays home to raise the kids, clean the house and cook? Does she cook? I tell people I cook, but what I mean by cooking, is heating up TV dinners.”
Paul gave me an odd look, but Raoul chuckled. “Si. Tonight, she is making chicken tamales, from my abuela’s recipe.”
“Why did you want to know that?” Paul asked.
“I just wondered if my lack of domestic skills was a female aberration or an evolutionary sea-change,” I lied. “Looks like aberration is winning.”
Huh. So, I had pegged Raoul’s thoughts. Which meant that I also, probably, had an accurate read on Paul’s thoughts.
Well, that was depressing.
Raoul finished up Daniel’s trim, put talcum powder on his neck, and flicked away the cut hairs with a soft brush.
“You’re all done, sir,” he said, taking the plastic cape off Daniel.
“How do I look?” Daniel asked me, preening and pointedly ignoring Paul.
“Just like Cary Grant’s… great-great-grandfather.” I said.
Daniel mock-frowned at me.
“But I’ll still spring for dinner,” I quickly added.
“On to my next victim,” Raoul said, winking at me. He was really cute and funny and sweet. I could see why his wife was so in love with him.
It was funny because, until I dipped into Raoul’s head, I thought he was gay. Having spent so many years in Los Angeles, my basic assumption is that all guys are gay, unless they prove otherwise. I really had to knock that off though. I kept tripping over my assumptions out here and falling on my face.
When Raoul opened the door to leave, a waft of strong perfume knocked me back. I must have turned green, because the next thing I knew, Daniel was offering me a plastic vomit bowl and a cup of water.
“No, I’m good,” I said, pushing the bowl away. “I’ll take the water though.”
“Is it still your stomach?” Paul asked, confused.
“I’m sure it is,” Daniel cackled.
“What the hell are you eating?” Paul asked. “No one has food poisoning for that long.”
“Here you go, honey,” Daniel said, ignoring Paul. He opened the drawer of his bedside table and handed me a small bag of candied ginger. “Good for nausea. My wife used to swear by it when she was pregnant. I can’t eat it anymore. Gets stuck in my dentures.”
I felt Paul stiffen as I took the bag and popped a piece of ginger in my mouth. Before I got pregnant, I never thought ginger would work for nausea, but it totally does. I actually started feeling better.
“She’s not pregnant,” Paul said, woodenly. “She ate some bad shrimp.”
“Oh, loosen up, boy,” Daniel clapped him on the back. “You can’t keep something like that a secret. Not from me. I may be old, but I have the sight of an eagle. An old eagle with trifocals. But an eagle, none-the-less.”
I forced myself to smile. “Can’t keep anything from you, Daniel.”
Paul shot me a dirty look—well, dirty was simplifying it. It was more a look of questioning horror.
“So, do we know? Is it a boy or a girl? Nothing gladdens my heart more than having another wee one in the family.”
“Speak for yourself, old man.” Paul muttered, his face darkening.
“What did you say, boy?”
“Nothing.”
“You’d better watch your step, you little whippersnapper.” Daniel pounded his cane on the floor. “Speak up or hold your peace. Mumbling is just rude.”
“I think it’s a girl.” I said, interrupting Paul before he could repeat his comment. “But Gus, my roommate, thinks it’s a boy.”
Daniel hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Mazel tov! Well, I’m off to see my next honey. You two behave yourselves. And if you don’t, have them change the sheets.”
He cackled and hobbled off, leaving us alone in his room to talk.
As soon as the door had closed behind him, Paul turned to me, furious. “Pregnant?!”
Chapter 16
I sighed. “I was going to tell you…”
“When?!” He exploded. “You were going to tell me, when?”
I shrugged. In the delivery room clearly wasn’t the right answer. “Soon. I didn’t want to screw with your therapy.”
“Are you kidding me?! You just found out I was in therapy. How far along are you?” He ran his hand through his wiry blond hair.
I tried to do the math. “I don’t know. Beginning of the second trimester, I think.”
“Damn it. Still. Maybe it’s not too late.” Paul took his cell phone out of his pocket. “Hell, even if you were about to give birth, I’m sure we could find someone willing to fix things.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t need anyone to fix anything.”
He ignored me as he searched the Internet on his phone, until he finally found what he was looking for. “Here it is. We can be there in twenty minutes. Let’s go.”
He reached out to grab my arm.
I plopped down on the bed and held onto the frame. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Yes, you are. I have a friend who works at the Planned Parenthood Clinic in Oldfield.”
“That’s ridiculous. Even if I was remotely interested, which I’m not, you can’t just drop by doctor’s offices unannounced.”
“We can call while we drive, set you up with an appointment.”
“No,” I said.
He hit the call button on his cell phone. “Fine. I’ll call him now. Our lives can be back to normal by tomorrow.”
“Like hell,” I said, tightening my hold on the bed frame. “I am not getting rid of this baby.”
He hit ‘end call’ and frowned at me, exasperated. “It’s not a baby. It’s a... It’s a… it could be a freaking demon for all you know.”
“Or not. It could just be a normal, innocent baby.”
“Innocent, my ass. You got pregnant when that... thing… was happening.”
He couldn’t even bring himself to say the words. I couldn’t blame him. Being possessed was hard enough. Finding out that you impregnated someone while you were possessed had to be tough.
“My body, my choice. You have no say in the matter.” I glared at him.
“Like hell I don’t.” He glared back. “My body was involved in that little transaction too. Unless it was some kind of immaculate conception, my say counts.”
“Since the baby’s growing in my body, I have two votes to your one.”
He threw up his hands in frustration. “Grow up.”
“Fine. Let’s talk paternity. What if it happened during that one crazy night at the poly-party? What if it’s someone else’s? Why should you get a say if we don’t even know for sure if you’re the father?” I snapped.
He yelled, “What if it’s got hooves instead of feet?”
“Then I’ll buy a pooper-scooper instead of diapers.” I folded my arms in front of my chest, giving him my most stubborn look. “The only thing we know for sure, is that I’m the mom. My body, my baby, my decision. You can butt the hell out.”
We continued glaring at each other for a bit. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pro-
choice kind of woman. But, in this case, I had made my choice and I would be damned if I let Paul bully me, just because he was scared.
I looked past him, out the window. Staring at Daniel and his date in the flower garden was easier than looking at Paul right now.
“You can make the choice whether or not you want to participate in raising the baby, but you can not make the choice whether or not I’m going to give birth to it.”
He paced the small room. “Either I get an equal say, or you can forget putting my name down on the birth certificate.”
“I’ll put whatever the fuck I want on the birth certificate. You can have a say in things when you stop being a total jackass.” I snapped. “Not being named on a birth certificate doesn’t magically absolve you if this is your kid. You want to be an absentee father, that’s fine. You’re going to have to live with that decision. Whether or not I have this child is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life. And I’ve made my decision.”
He sighed and sat down in a chair. “Fine. Let’s start with getting a DNA test done. The sooner we find out what’s going on with that baby, the better.”
“As soon as it’s born, I will pluck out a hair follicle for you, myself.”
“No. Now. There’s an O.B. in that new Medical Center in Oldfield. Let’s go have him do an amnio. See what we’re dealing with.”
I gasped. “There is no freaking way.”
“Why not?!” He asked, mystified.
“Because amnios can cause miscarriages. And I’m not having a CVS done either. I’m not having some hack, backwoods doctor accidentally lopping fingers or toes off the baby while it’s still developing. So you can just forget about it. There will be no invasive testing, period. You can wait until its born, just like the rest of us.”
Paul looked like he was ready to strangle me. “I am not going to be stuck supporting a baby with birth defects, genetic mutations or three heads. So you’d better do something. Or I will.” He said, his voice thick with threat.
* * *
I jumped in the SUV and turned the radio up to an ear-splitting volume. I tore off so fast, the tires squealed. The oldsters and staff who were out enjoying the mild weather, shot me such dirty looks, I felt like I was going to be single-handedly responsible for a run on blood pressure meds.
Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2) Page 6
