Part 23 (1/2)
I couldn't help but smile as the scripture zinged through my mind. G.o.d gave open book tests. Simple questions. He even provided the answers. I pulled a hand over my eyes, to give my throbbing arm another position and s.h.i.+eld my tears from my imminent ”family.” Pineapple and cilantro skipped along the bed rail like music. A chair screeched at my bedside. Though he didn't say a word, Adrian was there. Grateful, I closed my eyes.
Chapter Fifteen.
”So what are you going to do?”
My father moved like a dancer between the pots and pans-jambalaya with chicken breast and shrimp for me and fried calamari and garlic bread for the rest. Not that it was really helpful to smell all that, but I appreciated the thought, as well as his question. After over a month of speech and occupational therapy, plenty of praying and talking to family and friends, I still didn't have an answer.
”I don't know, Dad. I just don't know.”
”Hmph. Just let it go. If you need money, we'll figure something out. I'm thinking about opening a restaurant-”
I choked on my water. ”What?”
”It won't be for a while. I've been working at Smokey's and he really thinks I've got what it takes.”
”Working? At the racetrack restaurant? I thought you were just-”
”Betting? Drinking? I know. I can't say I blame you for thinking that, but with my family back together I thought it was time I try to get myself together. Your mother would have wanted it this way.” He paused as if wanted to say more, then tunneled his words down his arm and into his spoon, whizzing around a bowl of cake batter faster than any electric mixer ever could.
”It's angel food. The strawberries are in the fridge. I hope you like it. I made it for her-the first time.” With halted words, Daddy turned to walk away, but I caught his arm. He pulled back, probably surprised at the strength of my touch-hey, weeks of biceps curls had to be good for something.
”Why didn't you all tell me about Mama's first stroke? I remember her going to the emergency room those times.”
He shook his head. ”It seemed so harmless. Like this thing with you. I know now that it wasn't.” He wiped his eye. ”Don't take a chance, moppet. Just don't take a chance.”
Water trickled down my throat as I pulled my gla.s.s back to my mouth. I appreciated Daddy's concern, and truthfully, it matched my own, but what was I supposed to do, give up everything in my life and wait for death to come and claim me? Surely that wasn't the life G.o.d had for me. I needed change, the people at the hospital had made that clear.
In the four weeks I'd spent there, I'd lost twenty pounds and my blood pressure had plummeted. But what about now with work, church and all the drama of my family? Not to mention the shop, which Adrian and Dahlia were miraculously holding together.
I was ashamed to admit that Dahlia's appearance might have had some impact on the new sales figures, which she proudly called in each evening. And Adrian had even pulled in Jordan and Trevor to help in Dahlia's absence, which had to be a crazy mix. I could hardly imagine Trevor stacking jars with my name tattooed on his arm. Crazy. But somehow it was working.
And they'd make it work as long as I needed-or at least until Trevor needed to get to work on his next alb.u.m. They loved me enough to pick up the slack. Even my evil cousins and Aunt Cheryl were said to be seen pitching in on the weekends. Austin, too, when she wasn't on the set.
But as for what I really wanted to do, I wasn't sure. I still lost my balance from time to time and had to slow down when speaking, but in many ways things seemed much like they'd been before. Yet, I couldn't forget that doctor's last phrase-disabled or dead.
Adrian sauntered into the kitchen with a slice of watermelon for himself and one for me. I took it, thanking him graciously. ”Where'd you get this?”
”Bob brought it. The Visa man? The one who saved you by calling the ambulance?”
Saved my life. At the sound of those words, the backs of my ears p.r.i.c.kled. Though I tried not to think about it most days, the fact that I'd almost died was unavoidable. But for some reason, G.o.d had chosen to let me live. And He'd used the Visa guy to do it. ”He's here?”
Adrian pointed at a muscular fellow with raven hair and a cross earring. Sort of a Latin Fabio with a Bible. Adrian waved in Bob's direction and took my hand. ”C'mon.”
He didn't have to tell me. I was already half-across the room, watermelon in hand. I stopped just short of him. ”Bob?”
He squinted at me. ”Dana?”
Adrian grabbed the watermelon just in time, and we hugged like old friends. ”Thanks so much for saving my life.”
He smiled. ”Thank G.o.d, not me. I wasn't trying to do anything that day but nail you. You were on my top ten most wanted list to actually talk to.”
I shook my head thinking of how hard I'd been driving myself. ”Well thanks for doing your job. And sorry about the bills and everything. I'm going to work that out.”
Bob-who names a guy who looks like a movie star and smells like the ocean, Bob? I guess his mother couldn't have predicted it-winked at Adrian. ”Don't sweat it. It's all been taken care of.”
My eyes, now squinty, went from the Visa guy to Adrian. I knew that code. It was the shut-up-I-didn't-tell-her-yet look. I glared at my old friend. ”What did you do?” Sure, I'd been sick, but he wasn't my husband. This was too much.
He grabbed my hand and tugged, then frowned at Bob. ”Thanks, buddy! We'll see you later.”
The guy laughed and went back to the cl.u.s.ter of people he'd been standing with before. People I'd seen at church, but didn't really know. Since when did the family gathering become the free-for-all hangout? While I was in the hospital, I suppose. I followed Adrian's tug into the dining room where we sat down at the table. He tucked my soggy slice of watermelon in to one of the linen napkins as though it were a rose.
He pulled out my chair, then quickly took a seat, raising one hand before I could go on my tirade.
”Look, before you say anything, hear me out, okay?”
”Okay.”
His face went solemn. ”I know you don't want my help. I know that you don't need it-”
”You're already helping at the store. Taking my appointments-”
He c.o.c.ked his head sideways. I reached for another slice of watermelon from a bowl on the table. I bit into it and the juice squirted onto his face. He smiled. ”Let me finish. I need to help you right now. There is no resource that I have that I won't use to keep you well.” He dragged a clenched fist across his nose. ”Even you can't deny me that.”
”Deny you? I'm not trying to deny you anything, it's just that...” My voice trailed as I tried to slow down and get my lips to cooperate with my words.
Adrian took the opportunity to get a word in himself. ”It is about denying me and everybody else. Why do you have to almost kill yourself before we can help you? Have you thought about that? I've been begging you since I came back to town for us to work together, so you wouldn't have to work so hard.” He buried his head in his hands. ”I can't believe I let this happen.”
My stomach knotted. ”You?” I talked slow this time so the words would come out clear. ”You've been nothing but kind. My hereditary put me on a path to this, but I charged up the road.”
He kissed my cheek. ”Yeah, but I let you go on, knowing it was too much. When we were just friends, it was so much easier. I could tell you what I thought and know that it was honest and for your best interest. Now...”
Dahlia slipped into view in a pink and red paisley off-one-shoulder sundress. She started toward us. Adrian held on to my hand and never looked her way. The rest of the room, though, took to her like a cactus to water, drinking her in and holding on.
”How are you feeling, sis?” she whispered into my mane of twists. Having a hairdresser who did house calls turned out to be a great idea.
”Better,” I said. ”Much better.”
She nodded. ”You look it. I guess having this guy around doesn't hurt, does it?”
When you're here it does.
Adrian looked up with a plastic smile. I eased out of his grip and stared at the placemats. Apples. Roch.e.l.le's motif. She'd wanted to ditch my pansies for years. Much the same way that I needed to ditch the pain of what had pa.s.sed between Adrian and Dahlia. It rose again now, like a bronco, breaking through the barrier where I'd corralled it. Why didn't I just talk to him about it and get it over with? With her right here, too? ”Speaking of Adrian, maybe we should...”