by Rhett DeVane
“You only get one shot at this, Simpy. No way we’re stuffing it back in for a second take.”
“Okay, okay!” He knelt on one knee. “This angle will work without too much of a close-up.”
“No need to creep anyone out. I’m already there,” Karen stated.
Simpy pointed his index finger to indicate filming was underway.
Heidi focused her attention on her patient. “I’ve already snipped the stitches holding the drains in place. This will smart a bit, but it’s important to do it quickly. It’s easier on you that way. Direct your awareness to a spot at the far side of the room and take a deep breath.”
With one swift yank, Heidi extracted the first drain.
“Yow! Oh, man! Boy, do I want to curse right now!” Karen clenched her teeth.
“I know it was uncomfortable, but it’s like removing a bandage strip. When you go slowly, you feel the tug of every little trapped hair. Ready for the second one?”
“Unless I want a flaccid piece of rubber hanging permanently from my armpit, do I have a choice? Do it.”
The nurse practitioner snatched the axillary drain.
Karen winced. “Are my eyes crossed? They should be.” The sharp pain subsided to a dull throb after a few moments.
“Got it.” Simpy grinned. “Good, Karen.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. Imagine lassoing a kidney and pulling it out though your navel, and you’ll have a good grip on the sensation.”
Simpy and Heidi chuckled.
“Maybe that’s what I’ll tell patients from now on, instead of trying to get them to focus and deep breathe,” Heidi said, removing her gloves with a snap.
While the nurse reviewed follow-up care with Karen, Simpy packed the video equipment.
“You leaving from here?” Karen buttoned her shirt.
“Thought I might grab an early lunch first, then I’ll hit the trail. That’ll put me in Atlanta before the worst part of evening rush.”
He stuffed a coil of wire into the case. “I need to discuss things with Will, and start editing the first segment of the film. I’m not sure how we’ll handle the radiation therapy four weeks from now. Maybe I’ll swing down for the first couple of sessions, and then the last one. They’re all basically the same, right?”
“More or less, with the exception of my skin. As I understand, by the time the final radiation session rolls around, I’ll look like a bad day at the beach on the side undergoing treatment.”
“Be good to show that. We can do the voice-overs when you return to the station.”
Karen’s expression darkened noticeably.
“Not looking forward to that? I can tell.”
“I have to deal with the mess I’ve left behind, sooner or later.”
“Suppose.” He dug around for the keys to the rental van.
“Simpy?”
“Hum?”
“Will you be seeing Donald when you get back?”
He stood and adjusted the padded carry-all strap. “Some weeks, I don’t see much of anyone when I’m working on a project, but I could. You need me to pass something along to D. J.?”
She shrugged. “Just . . . tell him I said hello. And to call me if he has any problems with the kitties or anything.”
“Here’s a thought. Call and talk to the man.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”
He nodded. “Good enough. You and Elvina want to join me for lunch? I’m terribly addicted to the wet burrito supreme at this little place off, I believe, Magnolia?”
“You must mean Cabos Tacos—one of Hattie’s favorites. Sounds good to me.”
Karen stood and tucked the shirttail into her shorts. “Just don’t give up on us if we’re not right behind you. Elvina took shortcuts through neighborhoods I’ve never seen before. We made at least ten turns after we left the interstate. It was like Mr. Toad’s wild ride.”
“I guess you and I should’ve ridden over together. I could’ve left later on from Chattahoochee.”
“That’s okay, Simpy. The way I have it figured—if I can survive chemo and cancer surgery, I can certainly live through Elvina Houston’s driving.”
Karen heard Wanda Orenstein’s voice long before she spotted the bright red hairdo bobbing over the top of the hedges lining the patio.
“Yoo-hoo! KAY-REN! Yoo-hoo! Karen?”
“Over here!” Karen rested a fine-tipped brush on the corner of the palette and leaned back to stretch her shoulders.
“Whew!” Wanda plopped down into a cushioned wrought-iron chair. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ve been ringing the bell and framming on the front door for five minutes! I was ready to call the law.”
“I’m fine, as you can see.”
“You got some color back in your cheeks. That’s good to see. This fresh air’s bound to do you good.” She smiled. “These last couple of days have been a Godsend, haven’t they? I thought for certain we were heading dead into summer last week with the humidity so high, but it looks like spring may hold out a little longer.”
“That’s why I’m painting outside.”
“Elvina mentioned you were taking up art again. Mind if I sneak a peek?”
“Sure.”
Wanda jumped up and leaned over to study the painting. “I do believe that’s about the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a good long while. I could nearly reach in and touch the dragonfly perched on that stem, it’s so lifelike. And that magnolia blossom! It’s so real I swear I can smell it!”
Karen motioned to the cut bloom on the side table by the easel. “Thanks for the compliments, Wanda. But the scent is coming from the real thing.”
“Well, it’s still perfect.” She glanced at the glass resting on the side table. “Mind if I steal some tea from you?” The New Jersey girl affected a twangy southern accent. “I’ve been running around like mad already this morning, and I’m parched.”
“Help yourself. Tea’s in the refrigerator, and you know where Mama keeps the cups. Use the plastic tumblers. She frowns on glass out here on the brick.”
Wanda disappeared into the house, returning shortly with a tall tumbler of peppermint tea. “What got you into painting dragonflies?”
“An inspiration from a dream I had following surgery.”
“I’ve always loved them. I like damselflies, too. They’re the smaller ones that fold their little wings way back when they light. Dragonflies’ wings stay extended. Pinky told me that. He’s a wealth of knowledge when it comes to nature.”
“So, you two are going strong?”
“Thick as thieves. That’s one of the reasons I stopped by, other than to see how you were feeling.” She reached into a cloth drawstring bag and removed an envelope. “I wanted to bring your invitation by in person. I’ll get Evelyn and Joe’s to them as soon as they get home. Pinky and I are getting married in two weeks.”
“Great!” Karen opened the plain white envelope. “It’s A Party” was printed in bold rainbow colors across the front of the invitation.
“Pinky wanted to run off to a justice of the peace, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Weddings are a time to be shared with your friends. It’s not going to be anything fancy-pants-y, just a gathering of our closest friends. I’ve done the big hoo-hah with confections and lace, and can’t be bothered with all that.”
“Weddings are somewhat overdone, sometimes.”
“Don’t I know it? My first near to put my daddy in the poor house. The marriage barely lasted long enough to unwrap the fine china.” Wanda laughed. “No, this one’s going to be very, very casual. Wear your blue jeans. We are. If it’s too warm, I may end up in hot pants. We’re going to have a brief ceremony, then we’ll feast. Pinky’s a vegetarian, you know. He will eat some chicken or fish on occasion. He’s ordered Pacific salmon fillets and free-range chicken to grill.”
She chuckled. Her red hair shook slightly. “Whenever I hear him talking about free-range chickens, I always get a mental picture of little hens standing around in spurs with
six-shooters laced around their bellies. Maybe even tiny white cowboy hats.”
“Two weeks—that’s not a lot of time to plan a wedding, is it?”
“Oh, we’ve been pulling it together for a while. We wanted to pick a time after your surgery before you started up with the radiation and chemotherapy so you would feel up to coming.”
“I’m touched. That was very considerate of you, Wanda.”
Wanda picked at a stray sprig of red hair that had escaped her heavily-sprayed hairdo. “Don’t worry about a gift, now. That’d be downright silly at our ages. We both have more than we need as it is. Just come and help us celebrate, okay?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. When are Evelyn and Joe coming back?”
“End of the week, I think. Daddy wanted to stay to help my aunts clean out the house. My grandmother has a number of antiques, and all three of the children are taking a share. Mama and Daddy will drive a rental van back.”
“That’s a long trip for them. I’ll be sure to check in with you and round up some food for when they arrive.”
“I can cook.”
“Didn’t say you couldn’t, hon. It’ll be easier for you, though, and we all like to feel we’re helping out in some small way.” Wanda looked thoughtful. “You spoken with your fiancé?”
“No.”
“Hmm. Elvina told me he’s called most every day to check on you.”
“She didn’t mention it.”
“Oh, Lord. Me and my big trap. Don’t tell ’Vina I said anything. I didn’t realize it was a secret.”
“No harm’s been done. Don’t worry.”
Wanda leaped up and air-pecked Karen on the cheek. “All-righty then. I have to scoot. I’ve got a million and one things on my honey-do list.”
Halfway to the hedgerow, she spun around. “Hey! If you make prints of that painting when it’s finished, I’d love to buy one.”
Karen had refreshed her tea and settled back into the chair in front of the easel when she heard the slam of a car door.
“Yoo-hoo!” A male voice called.
“Two yoo-hoo’s in one afternoon. How lucky can a girl get?” Karen shook her head and smiled.
Jake Witherspoon rounded the corner of the yard, balancing a massive floral arrangement in his right hand while maneuvering the uneven ground with a red, white, and blue cane in his left hand.
“Miss Karen Fletcher?”
“Last time I checked. Depends on who you ask.”
“If you are, these are for you.” He made room and placed the glass container carefully on the side table next to her chair.
“Who are they from?”
“I could tell you, but I won’t. Be a sport, and at least read the card.”
She plucked the small envelope from its plastic support stake.
Thinking of you. With love, Donald.
“Oh.”
“Man calls personally from Atlanta and all you can say is ‘oh’? Not a wired floral order, mind you. He called the shop himself! He has a wonderful, deep voice, by the way. I almost dropped the phone, my hands got so sweaty.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t quite know what to do about him . . . just yet.”
“If you’re out of fresh ideas, I could provide a few.”
Karen rolled her eyes. “He’s straight, Jake. That might not stop you from ogling, though.”
Jake turned his attention to the easel. “Interesting painting. Does it have to do with the dreams you and I have discussed in our late night phone marathons?”
She held up her hands and shrugged.
Jake tilted his head. “Somehow, the jewel-toned dragonfly doesn’t seem as sinister as the evil cave-dwelling creature you hinted at.”
“Since surgery, the dream has changed. Now, it’s like a visit to Never Never Land, sans Captain Hook.”
Jake studied the painting closely. “The magnolia bloom is perfectly rendered.”
Karen frowned. “Wanda used the same word—perfect. I don’t want it to appear perfect.”
“Reason?”
She picked the live magnolia blossom from the table and passed it to Jake. “Look at it.”
“Flawless. But then, I think all of Joe’s flowers are required to be flawless.”
“Look closer.” She pointed to one petal. “See. It’s beginning to turn brown around the edges. Compare the petal sizes. Nothing is truly symmetrical.”
“A point? I suppose you have one in this enchanting little nature lesson?”
“The beauty lies in its imperfection.”
“My, my. Profound, aren’t we?”
Karen released a large sigh. “It’s a metaphor for my life, Jake. I strived for perfection—the condo, designer clothes, best restaurants, pricey makeup. Perfect. And where has it gotten me? In a world of shit, that’s where.” A tear trickled down her cheek. Since the surgery, her emotions could switch from giddy to morose in the space of one breath.
“Hey, hey.” Jake hugged her gently. “Aspiring to be all you can be isn’t a crime, hon. It’s not really fair to shun everything you’ve accomplished, now is it?”
“It didn’t make me happy.”
“Cut yourself a little slack, hon. Your body is trying so hard to heal, it exhausts you on all levels—emotional as well as physical. It’s hard for you to feel very optimistic.” Jake offered a folded tissue from his shirt pocket. “Here, wipe your nose. Don’t worry, it’s clean. I have allergies, so I always keep a tissue handy.”
“Thanks.” She blew loudly. “God, I’m a mess.”
“Isn’t everyone to some extent? Listen, hon. I feel for what you’re going through—this series of jump-start-your-life epiphanies. I went through a similar time following my assault.”
“Yeah?”
“Questioned everything I believed: about myself, about people. Drew in the things I thought rang true and discarded the ones that didn’t—including people. Catch and release isn’t just for fish. Sometimes you got to let go of the old to let the new come flooding in. Trust me, it’s no picnic. It’s the hardest work you’ll ever do, and it hurts.”
Jake smiled. “Piddie used to say, ‘The more pain carves out your heart, the more joy you can hold.’”
He reached over and caressed her bald head. A fine dusting of new hair prickled his palm. “Have you given any thought to talking to a counselor?”
“Daddy thinks it would be a good idea.”
“And you?”
“I have a list of names. I’ll call soon, set up a time to coincide with one of my many doctor’s appointments. Of course, when I start radiation, I’ll be over in Tallahassee every weekday for almost two months.”
She offered a weak smile. “Don’t think I’m suicidal, Jake. I do have the occasional breakthrough. I just need help stringing them together to make sense.”
“Oh, baby-doll, they will. They will.”
“At least, I feel something. Finally, finally I feel something—even if it’s raw and awful. I was so busy inventing a life and keeping it afloat, I had almost forgotten how.” Karen frowned. “Shit!”
“What?”
“Turn and wave.”
“Wha—?”
“Just turn to your right and wave.” She pasted on a bright smile and threw a hand high into the air. Jake followed her lead.
“What the heck was that about?”
Karen pointed to the rear of the yard. “Paparazzi at three o’clock, behind the tea olive bush.”
“I’ll go call Rich Burns.”
Karen rested her hand on his arm. “No, Jake. It’s useless to fight them, so I strive to strike a pose.”
“Suppose that guy is one of what’s-her-name’s minions?” Jake said, then flashed a toothy grin toward the bush where the cameraman lurked.
“Trisha Truman? Probably.”
Karen glanced from the hedge to Jake.
“I haven’t told anyone this.”
“Eww, secrets. I love secrets.”
“Promise me you w
on’t share this with anyone. Seriously.”
He leaned in. “Lips zipped. Tell.”
Karen breathed in, then exhaled slowly. “I’ve received a couple of anonymous cards, mixed in with all of the sweet get-well cards. Borderline threats: ‘The mighty will fall. You will, too’—in one. The second one—‘Safety is an illusion meant to be shattered.’”
“Wow. Weird. Doesn’t that scare the beejezus out of you? Should we tell the police? Maybe put some kind of guard on this place?”
She shook her head. “That would be giving in, wouldn’t it?”
“After what happened to me, I never take threats lightly. There are a lot of nutcases roaming around.” Jake’s lips drew into a thin, hard line.
I won’t buy into fear. Not anymore.” She threw a dismissive hand into the air, then tipped her head toward the hedge. “As to this latest photo op, we’ll know in a few days if Trisha was behind it. I’m sure it will make the front page of the Informant. You’ll be identified, too. Local liar shares intimate moment with former gay-bashing victim, or something of the like.”
“Maybe we should take out a subscription. Too bad we couldn’t drag Hank Henderson out of his padded cell for a group photo. Notorious Chattahoochee celebs have tea.”
“Lord help me, I’ve worked around food so many years, it’s a stretch for me to say I find comfort in it. Fool with food and wait tables a few days, and you’ll understand what I mean. Guess I have to say, my mama’s potato soup comes the closest to comfort food. She would make a pot when any of us younguns were feeling poorly. Warm and thin, and not too hard on the tummy. Pretty soon, I’d be good as new. Sometimes, I cook up some myself.”
Julie Nix, waitress, The Homeplace Restaurant
Chapter Twenty-seven
D. J. Peterson hovered just inside the threshold of the editing room. Sensing a foreign presence, Jason Simpson glanced up from the computer monitor.
“C’mon in, man. Don’t just stand there like a first-grader without a hall pass.” He shoved a wheeled chair backwards. “You might be interested in this. I’m working on the breast cancer piece.”
D. J. ambled slowly across the room and slumped into the proffered chair.
