A Christmas Peril (The Teacup Novellas - Book Five) (3 page)

Chapter
3

As hospitals go, it took much longer than
expected for Mark to get moved. Shelly returned around one that afternoon and
convinced me to have a late lunch with her in St. Michael’s cafeteria. The
place was hopping, but we finally made our way through the salad bar and found
a table near the back of the room. I was surprised how good a fresh salad
tasted after nibbling on packaged crackers and peanut butter the past few days.

“Lucy, I love that you’re wanting to stay
by Mark’s side, and I totally understand. But I can stay with him too so you
can go home and get some rest. We can take shifts or whatever.”

I took a sip of iced tea and set the
glass down. “Thanks, Shelly. I really appreciate the offer. Maybe after a day
or two. I just want to be with him when he wakes up, y’know?”

She nodded, munching on a crouton. “I know.
Hopefully that will be soon.”

“But you’re welcome to stay too. I’d love
the company, so please don’t think I’m trying to push you out. Because I’m
not.”

Shelly pinned me with a look. “As if you
would? Please. But thanks. You’ll probably get sick of me before this is all
over.”

“No way. I’d love the company.”

She stabbed a cherry tomato. “Is there
anything else I can do for you?
Chad
said he’s taking care of Gertie and
running errands for you, but anything else?”

“Not really. He’s bringing my laptop this
afternoon, and that’ll help. I can catch up on my email and maybe get some work
done. At some point I need to call my editor. Last count, she’d left twelve
voice mails and threatened to call out the National Guard if I didn’t call
her.”

“Does she know what happened?”

“Yes, I made the mistake of texting her a
brief message. You have to know Sam. She loves to be all up in your business,
then tell you what
she
would do under the same circumstances. She means
well, but she’s crusty too. Not a lot of TLC in her skill set, if you know what
I mean.”

“I had a roommate like that back in
college. Her own life was a train wreck, but she always had advice for me on
how to run mine.”

“That’s Sam. I’ve never missed a
deadline, but you’d never know it by her. She starts the pressure before I have
a single word on the page.”

“Which reminds me.
Chad
tells me your new book is based on your aunt and uncle’s
love story back in the forties. I can’t wait to read it.”

“I’ve barely started working on it, so
don’t hold your breath.”

“Maybe you can make some headway while
you’re sitting with Mark.”

My cell rang. Kirsten called to tell us
Mark was in his room.

“Thank you so much! We’re on our way.”

An hour later, Shelly took off to run
some errands, and I settled in, making myself at home in Mark’s room. A
constant stream of aides and nurses came and went, but in spite of the numerous
interruptions, I was so thankful to be close to Mark. I couldn’t stop touching
him. Cupping his cheek in my hand, stroking his forearm, brushing the few locks
of hair that were exposed beneath his gauze-wrapped head. My eyes always
tracked back to his, wondering when I’d find them open again.

A nurse dressed in those comfy scrubs
favored by medical professionals joined me by Mark’s bed. “Research tells us
that coma patients often hear the voices of those around them, so feel free to
talk to him.”

“Okay.”

“I’m Susie Blake, and I’ll be taking good
care of Mr. Christopher while he’s our guest. Are you his wife?”

“No, I’m just his girlfriend.”
That
sounded so lame.
“I mean, we’re very close . . .
very
close. We’ve been seeing each other since‌—‌let me think‌—‌over
a year now? So I guess you could say we’re, uh . . . yeah, I’m his
girlfriend. Lucy. My name’s Lucy.”

I bit the side of my lip. This is
precisely why I write books, because I can never seem to get a sentence out
without getting tangled up with words. There’s a reason God calls some to speak
and some to write.

Susie laughed as she checked Mark’s
monitor, punching buttons and rearranging tubes. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. And
I’m thinking you must be pretty special to my patient here, no matter what your
relationship is.” She smiled up at me as she tucked the blanket in beneath
Mark’s leg.

“Well, he’s amazing. You’ll see. He’s kind
and funny and smart, and never met a stranger.”

“Sounds like a sweetheart of a guy. I’ll
look forward to getting to know him soon. In the meantime, you let us know if
there’s anything you need. There’s a pillow and blanket in the closet there,
and that’s a recliner, so feel free to kick back when you want to sleep. There’s
a refrigerator around the corner where we keep some juice and fruit. Popsicles
are up top in the freezer. We keep the coffee fresh, so help yourself.”

“Thanks. That’s really nice.”

“Okay, then. I’ll check back in a little
while.”

I grabbed the blanket and pillow from the
closet, thankful for some added warmth against the ice locker that was Mark’s
room. I pulled the chair closer to the bed and covered my legs with the soft
blue blanket. I stared at Mark for the longest time before remembering what his
nurse just said about coma patients being able to hear the sound of your voice.
I tried, but it felt so strange, like I was trying to disturb his nap or
something.

I dropped my head in my hands and rubbed
my face, wondering why I couldn’t just do something normal for a change. Why
was everything such a challenge? How hard could it be just to talk to him? Then
again, I couldn’t remember ever being this tired. Still, I wasn’t about to
sleep when I finally had time to be with him. To watch over him. To make sure
he was comfortable.

When I opened my eyes, I noticed Aunt
Lucille’s diary sitting beside my purse. I stuck my fingers through the bed
rails and gently stroked Mark’s fingers. Then, with another glance at his
bruised face, I reached for the diary and decided to spend some time with my
aunt.

I’d thumbed through a few of the pages,
but purposefully refrained from actually reading it until I could give the
contents the attention it deserved. For the first time I noticed the ink was
green‌—‌the same as every note or letter or recipe my aunt had ever
written. But who knew green ink was readily available back in the forties? I
caressed the familiar handwriting as it beckoned me into its pages.

I was also astounded by the style she’d
written. Stephen had told me it read like a love story, but I had no idea she’d
used actual dialogue‌—‌quotation marks and all. I smiled, thinking
how easy that would make it for me to write my novella.

I glanced over at Mark and cleared my
throat. I told him about Stephen sending me Aunt Lucille’s diary and asked if
he would mind if I read it out loud to him. I touched the heart of diamonds
resting against my chest as a moment passed. Nothing.

“Okay, then. I’ll take that as a yes.
Which doesn’t surprise me. You would have loved her, Mark. I’m glad I can share
her with you. So here goes.”

December 1944

Dear Diary,

How perfect. A brand new diary and
something new to write about
‌—‌
or
I should say “someone” new? The most wonderful things seem to happen when you
least expect them. Yesterday, as I boarded the El on my way home from classes, I
dropped one of my textbooks in the aisle. Clumsy, but with my coat and gloves
and armload of books, it just slipped from my hands.

I turned around and reached down for it
just as a handsome young soldier did the same. “Allow me,” he said, as we both
stood back up, our eyes locked. He slowly removed his cap but never took his
eyes off me. It felt as if time stood still. I don’t think I took a single breath
the entire time. We just stood there
‌—‌
staring
at each other. Even now, I’ve got goose bumps just thinking about it. His eyes
were so blue, and his smile seemed to light his entire face. Little lines
feathered his kind eyes, and his dimples were surely as deep as the ocean. I’d
never seen him before, and yet I felt as if I’d always known him. How is that
possible?

He took a handkerchief from his pocket
and dusted off my book.

“There now,” he said. “All nice and
clean.” He tilted his head to read the title.
“‘
Teaching
High
School
English.’
Well,
now. I bet that’s a real page-turner.”

He smiled back at me, and I could feel
the heat creeping across my face. “You’ve no idea,” I teased, as I took the
book from his hands. “I’m not usually so clumsy, but thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” The train began
to move, jostling us together. He grabbed my elbow to steady me. “I believe
there’s a seat right here with your name on it.” He stepped out of the way and
motioned me toward the aisle seat.

I thanked him and sat down, setting my
purse on the floor next to my feet. When I turned, he was still standing beside
me, his hand gripping the bar above him.

I twisted to look back over my shoulder.
“I’m sure there are more seats in the back.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine where I am. But
thank you, Miss . . . ?”

I looked over my shoulder again as I
stalled for an answer. I didn’t usually give my name to strangers. But he just
seemed so . . . genuine. Still, how many times had Father warned
me about men in uniform? “Lucille, just because a man is in uniform doesn’t
mean he’s a gentleman. Don’t ever forget that.” He was right, of course, but
‍
—

“Forgive me,” the soldier said, placing
his hand over his heart. “Where are my manners? My name is Gary Reynolds,
Lieutenant
,
United States
Army.” His smile crinkled around his eyes again which sent my heart hammering
in my chest.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Reynolds.”

He held out his hand to shake. “Please
‌—‌
call me Gary.”

I smiled, staring at his strong hand as I
allowed him to shake mine. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Gary Reynolds.”

He paused, still holding my hand as he
leaned down toward me. “This is the part where you tell me
your
name,” he whispered near the
vicinity of my ear.

I couldn’t help the shiver skittering
down my spine from his nearness, the warmth of his breath against my ear, and
the heady scent of his after-shave. I gave him as casual a smile as I could
muster.

“Lucille. I’m Lucille.”

“Lucille,” he said, straightening again.
“That’s a lovely name. It suits you.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll be sure and
tell my parents you approve of the name they gave me.”

He laughed, and I could almost feel the
sound of it drawing me into his arms. I scolded myself for such a silly
thought. But it was such a beautiful sound
‌—‌
a laugh so natural and spontaneous.

“I’m honored! To think, we just met and
already you’re eager to tell your parents about me. I’ll take that as a good
sign.”

I laughed, still fighting the urge to get
lost in those baby blues. “I’ve always heard soldiers were fast, but that might
just be a record.”

I looked out the window to my right,
noticing for the first time the elderly lady sitting beside me. Her wrinkled
face gleamed as she nodded toward the lieutenant, her eyes dancing. I smiled at
her, praying he hadn’t noticed.

“Hello, ma’am.” He extended his hand across
me toward her. “You certainly look lovely in that pretty red hat.”

She touched the rim of her knitted cap.
“Thank you, young man. You obviously have excellent taste.” She gave a slight
nod toward me, all smiles, and this time even her painted brows were dancing.

I felt the heat in my face despite the
drafty December chill in the train.

“Why, thank you, ma’am.” He leaned
slightly across me, his hand shielding his mouth from me as he faked a whisper
to her. “But I’m not making much headway here.” He tossed a not-so-subtle toward
me. “She seems hesitant to tell me her last name. Any suggestions?”

The woman straightened her back. “A
proper young lady never gives her name to a perfect stranger
‌—‌
even if he is a peach
of a guy.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink.

We all laughed, and I was grateful for a
chance to catch my breath. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) she got off at the
next stop, shuffling down the aisle in her yellow galoshes. After I stood to
let her by, the lieutenant smiled at me as we maneuvered around others coming
and going. When I finally took my seat again, a new panic started to waft over
me. What if he gets off and I never see him again?