Forever Young: Blessing or Curse (Always Young Trilogy) (35 page)

As
soon as she’d cleared the doorway, she staggered to the stairwell, and using
the same hand holding the kit, clumsily turned the knob. Her purse fell off her
shoulder. She spent precious seconds righting it to allow room to hold the kit,
as well as the banister.

Halfway
down the first flight, her foot slipped. Hanging onto Juliana with one hand,
the banister the other, she almost toppled, but regained her balance. If she
hadn’t rearranged her purse beforehand, she’d surely have fallen. Thank
goodness, she’d taken that precaution.

Crisis
averted, she clambered down more steps, sweat springing onto her forehead and
stinging her eyes, combined with the pain and soreness from her birthing
ordeal. One flight down, two to go.

The
sensation of blood oozing onto her pad filled her with uneasiness. Though the
nurse had mentioned some blood loss was normal, she remembered the doctor’s
warning about not overdoing it and causing a hemorrhage.  She would not
panic. What she experienced had to be normal.

By
the time she’d made it to the next flight, her palms had turned so slick she
had to hold extra tight to the banister. The combination of poor stairway
lighting, sweat filming her eyes, lightheadedness and pain made the journey
take forever, yet she carried on. Finally, the last door at the bottom of the
stairs stood before her. What would it reveal?

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Dorrie
hesitated, heart in her throat. What awaited her on the other side? A
policeman, with gun and cuffs drawn, or maybe the gnome or his henchman ready
to steal her child? Whatever the case, the longer she waited, the worst the
outcome might be. She’d best get it over with.

Her
fingers slipped a few times on the handle, before she got it to turn. The door
swung open. She stepped out.

Dorrie
found herself in a hallway near the gift shop, not far from the first floor
entrance. Relieved, she headed toward the revolving doors. She had no idea what
she’d do once she got outside, but she’d think of something.

She’d
almost reached one of the doors, when she spotted two uniformed policemen head
in the opposite one. Her heart fell to her stomach. Had they seen her?

Instead
of going out, she turned and headed back to the gift shop, expecting any minute
to hear the word, “Stop.”

Somehow
she made it in undetected. With shaking fingers, she clutched her baby and the
kit, pretending interest in a floral arrangement. Now what should she do? 

By
this time, if the officers hadn’t already gotten her room number from the
volunteer’s phone call, they’d surely have it from the receptionist, and would
be headed up the elevator. Once they learned she’d just left, they’d head right
back down. She had to get out immediately.

Once
again, she headed toward the entrance and pushed at the revolving door. This
time no officers delayed her progress. Outside, a nurse helping an elderly man
into a station wagon cast an assessing glance in Dorrie’s direction and
frowned, taking in the baby and the clearly marked take home kit. No doubt, she
wondered why the protocol of a chaperone had not been followed.

Fortunately,
she seemed preoccupied with carrying out the task of transferring her patient
to where he belonged, beside the waiting elderly woman behind the wheel. 
 

A
taxi pulled up in back of the elderly couple’s vehicle, with a Not for Hire
sign up. Dorrie stumbled into it. “Mrs. Harris?” the cabbie asked.

“Yes,
that’s me. I’m late. Can we get going?”

“Where’s
your husband?”   

“He’s
not here. Didn’t the dispatcher tell you it’s me and the baby?”

He
sighed. “Hey, I just follow orders. Mistakes happen. Airport, right?”

A
glance out the window confirmed the two officers exiting the building. What had
the driver said? The airport? Anywhere would be better than here.

“Yes,
please.”

The
cab took up speed. Juliana, who’d remained docile and quiet during the entire
downstairs trip, let out a huge wail. The cabbie frowned. He’d expected adult
passengers and would probably prefer them. For that matter, she’d prefer not
being here, seated in his cab, going somewhere she didn’t want to go.

They’d
gotten about five miles away from the hospital when she heard a squawk from the
radio upfront, and the voice of a dispatcher. “Car 1555, where are you? Mr. and
Mrs. Harris are outside Xavier Hospital. If you don’t get there ASAP, they’ll
be late for their flight. You do not want that to happen.”

“Damn,
I thought something was fishy,” the cabbie said, pulling over. “Okay, Ma’am. I
don’t know who the hell you are and I don’t care. Just pay me the ten dollars
for your ride this far and get the hell out. You can call some other company to
pick you up.”

At
the cabbie’s harsh tones, the baby’s wails rose a notch. His face grew darker.
Dorrie fumbled in her purse and pulled out one of the twenties from the cash
machine. Hopefully, the tip would insure his silence. “You can keep the change.
I’m terribly sorry. I know I got into the wrong cab and I was too embarrassed
to admit it. I don’t know where my mind is lately.”

He
gave her a skeptical look. “Sure, and you’d have gone all the way to the
airport?  Lady, I don’t know what your game is, but I want no part of it.
You could have cost me my job.”

“I’m
so sorry,” she said again, as she fumbled with the door handle, and stumbled
out, clutching the baby, the kit and her purse which had again slipped off her
shoulder. Her pad felt wet and messy, but nothing dripped down her legs, so
hopefully she wasn’t hemorrhaging.

Once
the cab had sped away, she took note of her surroundings. It appeared she’d
been left at the corner of a small subdivision on the outskirts of Flagstaff. A
glance at her watch surprisingly showed only nine-thirty.

Hopefully,
she still had time to catch Steve before he got to the hospital to pick her up.
If he happened to arrive at her room and was questioned, Lord knows what would
happen.

She
walked a few houses down, so no passersby or cars on the main drag could spot
her, then shifted the baby in her arms, and put the kit down. She opened her
purse and pulled out her cell.

With
each ring of the phone, her alarm heightened. If Steve had been picked up for
questioning, the call could lead the authorities straight to her. Still, she
had to take the chance.

She
heard a click, then Steve’s voice. “Hi Dorrie, I just pulled into the parking
lot. I’ll be right up.”

“No,
whatever you do, don’t go in. Back out and head away. Call me back after a few
blocks.”

No
questions asked, he hung up. A few minutes later, her phone rang. “Okay, what’s
up?”

“Someone
figured out who I was, so I had to leave the hospital.  The cops were
coming in while I was going out. I just got away in the nick of time. What a
nightmare!”

“Holy
cripes. Good thing you caught me or it would have been a real fiasco. Where are
you now? Give me some street names so I can Google and find you.”

“I’m
a few doors down from the intersection of Grape and Vine, on the northeast
side.”

“Okay,
I’ll get there as soon as I can. Look for a dark blue Chrysler van.”

***

It
had taken more than ten minutes for the cabbie to get to where he dropped her
off, so Dorrie knew Steve couldn’t make it much faster. Also, with the snow
thickening, it could take even longer.

Shivering
and wishing she had a coat, Dorrie kept shifting the baby’s weight, which
seemed to be doubling with every passing moment from her original seven pounds,
nine ounces. Thank goodness, she’d thought to bring those covers from the
bassinet to protect her child from the elements.

As
she waited, she couldn’t shake off hallucinations of stepping into a warm,
inviting tub. Dream on. That wouldn’t happen for many miles, or was it moons?
Would Steve ever get here?

Finally,
she spied a dark van slushing down the street in her direction. When it pulled
up, snowflakes obscured the windows.

The
driver pulled his window down. She blinked fast. Was that Steve? The last time
she’d seen him he’d not had long hair, a beard or a mustache. Still, he did
look familiar.

He
flashed a smile. “Harry Manning at your service.”

Relief
flooded through her at the familiar sound of his voice.  She heard Steve
open his door, as with stiff legs she stumbled to the van. The steps were kind
of steep. How could she get Juliana up there and keep her balance at the same
time? As if reading her mind, Steve said, “Here, let me take the little one and
buckle her up nice and safe.”

She
carefully handed her precious cargo over. Once Juliana had been safely secured,
Steve sprang down to join her.

She
smiled ruefully. “I’m glad someone remembered a baby seat. I’m a terrible
mother. I didn’t even think of it.”

“Don’t
put yourself down. If I know you, you’ll be the best mother alive.” 

She
glanced at Steve in appreciation. Beneath the tall, solid frame, full beard,
bushy mustache and long black hair beat the heart of a teddy bear.

She
only hoped his generous spirit would not be his downfall. If her actions hurt
him, emotionally or otherwise, she’d never forgive herself. Was it Divine
Providence that he’d not found someone special after all these years, or his
bad luck he’d been available in her time of need?

With
gentle, yet firm hands, he helped her up the stairs to her seat next to
Juliana. Blessed warmth enveloped her.

Embarrassment
followed relief at being in his care. It would be a long ride. What could she
possibly say to someone she’d avoided for so long? After they took off,
politeness dictated she state the obvious. “I can’t thank you enough, Steve.
You really don’t have to do this.”

“Hey,
don’t mention it. That’s what friends are for. We had some great times
together.”

“That
we did, and I must say, we both looked a lot different then.”

He
chuckled. “I thought you’d get a kick out of my Hairy Man moniker and look, and
I must stay you look quite smashing in that punk cut.”

“Oh,
please, don’t rub it in. It’s the best I could do on the spur of the moment.”

“No,
I mean it, you look great. Then again, you’d look great in any color.”

Was
he for real? She glanced up into his rear view mirror and their gazes locked.
 The smile he returned looked genuine and sweet, just as she remembered.
Wow, he really knew how to boost a girl’s self esteem. 

A
few blocks away, he pulled over and reached in the glove compartment.
“Remember, I said you look good in any color? Here’s that red wig you ordered.”

“Thanks,
Harry Manning.”

She
adjusted the wig onto her head, and checked the results in her hand mirror.
Well, at least it was a better cut than the one she’d done herself. The red
didn’t look half bad with her natural complexion. Maybe it would work. The main
thing was it should keep her safe from any prying eyes who’d be looking for
either a brown eyed blond or a black haired, punk cut renegade.

“Told
you, you’d look good in it,” he piped in.

“I
bet you say that to every girl you buy a wig for.”

“You’re
the only one, so I guess that’s true.”

Ignoring
the double meaning behind his words, she laughingly described her trip to
Wal-Mart and how she came upon her punk cut.

After
some easy bantering, they went on to share bits and pieces of their lives,
catching up on their years apart. He regaled her with tales of the varied jobs
he’d held before finding his niche in the technological field, where he now set
up and maintained websites and blogs. “The great advantage of this job is I can
do it wherever I can get connected.”

It
didn’t take long before she again grew comfortable in his company, almost as if
the years hadn’t passed since they’d dated.

Along
the way, they stopped at fast food restaurants for carryouts and ate them in
the van. When it grew late, Steve booked a two bedroom suite at a respectable
looking motel.

***

After
visits from various plastic surgeons plus a few internists, Roman was
discharged with instructions to follow up with his own doctor. Understood was
the fact that despite any care he’d take to ward off infection, and no matter
how well the skin healed, the looks he’d previously enjoyed would never return.
They’d be gone forever, unless the squat man took pity on him.

Roman
held no hopes of that happening anytime soon. Not after what he’d done.

He
stepped out of the hospital into the blinding sunlight, with half his face
swathed in bandages. Fear, embarrassment, horror and anger warred inside him
as, in plain view of the public, he awaited his ride.

Finally,
the black Mercedes pulled up, and his nemesis rolled down the window. “Diablo,
get in. Don’t dawdle.”