Accidental Meeting (2 page)

Abbey
slipped her shoes back on and grabbed her phone to call, but a police car was
already pulling over.  Someone must have seen the accident.  Two
officers casually strolled over to her, one holding a notepad, the other
glancing around. The tall blond spoke. “Where is the other driver?”

“She
pushed me over the side.”
Limpy
had just made it to
the top of the incline. Instinctively, Abbey went to help. He backed up and
staggered, balancing himself before he took another tumble down the slope.
“Keep her away from me.”

“What?
I didn't push you! I was only trying to help.”

One
of the officers stepped between them and took her arm. “Perhaps I should take
your statement over here.”

“What?
Surely you don’t believe him?” Abbey stammered.

She
allowed the officer to lead her around to the back of her car. While Abbey
absentmindedly answered the policeman’s questions, she focused on
Limpy
talking to the other officer.

If his
arms weren’t flailing about wildly as he talked to the policeman, he would have
looked rather cute. Strands of hair were scattered across his forehead, no
doubt caused by his tumble down the embankment. His melodramatic reenactment
made him look like a wild man. Abbey felt heat rise to her cheeks as he pointed
to her. What was
Limpy
telling the other officer?

“It
wasn’t my fault.” Abbey said and crossed her arms in front of her.

“What?”
the officer questioned. “The accident?”

“Huh?”
Abbey looked squarely into blue eyes that seemed to question her very
existence.

“You
were the one driving the red Neon weren’t you?”

“Yes,
Officer…
Detrichs
,” Abbey noted, reading his
nameplate.

“And
you did hit Mr. Harrison from behind.”

“His
car,” Abbey agreed, her own arms flailing about recklessly as she tried to
explain. “But I didn’t push him!”

Abbey
peered around the corner of the emergency waiting room hoping to find Mr. Harrington.
There were several people wearing jeans, with leather jackets or vest and a
chain hooked to a pocketbook or wallet, that looked like they belonged to a
biker gang, and one little old lady, but no sign of a tall, brown-haired man
with an attitude.

If
the officer hadn’t mentioned
Limpy’s
name, she
wouldn’t be now. She had been on an emotional rollercoaster from the moment her
car decided to quit and after the accident she was too disheveled to even
 exchange information with him for their insurance companies. When the
ambulance drove him away, she was left standing there dumbfounded. The sight of
his luxury car on the side of the road made her glance back towards the
ambulance. His car was expensive and he would want the damage repaired.
Limpy's
injuries didn't appear to be bad enough to warrant
an overnight stay. He would need a ride home from the hospital. Since it was
her fault he was without a vehicle to begin with, it was her duty to see that
he made it back to his car. That notion, and that notion alone, brought her to
St. John’s Emergency room now. Maybe
Limpy
… Mr.
Harrington, she mentally corrected herself, would realize she wasn’t such a bad
person after all when he saw how she went out of her way to help him.

There
wasn’t a sign of
Limpy
in the waiting room. Perhaps
they had taken him back to an examination room already. He did seem a bit
crotchety, not that she really knew the man. Maybe he was just being grumpy
because he was in pain. How many times had she or Monica read the story of the
lion with a thorn in his paw to Eric? Hopefully when
Limpy
felt better, his mood would improve and he wouldn’t be so grumpy. She walked
back into the corridor and stood, wondering what she should do next.

“Can
I help you?”

“Who,
me?” Abbey spun around toward the reception desk and pointed at her chest.

The
receptionist nodded.

“Well…
I was wondering where Mr. Harrington was.” Abbey smoothed her hands over her
skirt before folding them in front of her.

The
receptionist looked down at some paperwork. “They just wheeled a Harrington
back to one of the examination rooms. Are you family?”

“Um…
not exactly. I’m here to give him a ride home.” Abbey felt her cheeks grow
warm. Why did she say home? Well, she’d give him a ride home if he
wanted
one. Preferably she’d just dump him—well, she didn’t mean dump. She’d let him
off at his car and be done with him. Their insurance companies could take it
from there.

“Why
don’t you have a seat in the waiting room.” The receptionist pointed towards
the area Abbey had just come from. “Would you like me to let Mr. Harrington
know you’re here?”

“No!
That will be all right. Thanks.” Abbey pulled her purse strap further up on her
shoulder and hastily made her way back to the waiting room.

Vending
machines and pay phones occupied one corner of the waiting room. Abbey thought
about calling Monica and letting her know what happened, but decided it
wouldn’t make any difference if she told her now or waited until later and
opted for later.

Vociferous
laughter drew Abbey’s attention. Half a dozen leather clad men, some of which
had hair longer than hers, were commandeering one section of the waiting room.
Several of them looked like they might be waiting to be seen. The one laughing
loudly, assuming a spread-eagle stance, hand clenched, bellowed, “Did you see
the way he went flying through that window?”

Laughter
erupted among the group.

Abbey
looked around at all the available seats and decided to sit as far away as
possible from the
crowd
. An older woman sat on the far side of the room.
The woman wasn’t as little as Abbey first thought, probably because she was
hunched over a book. When one of the men noticed Abbey and whistled, it took
all of five strides to land herself in an empty seat next to the
grandmotherly-looking woman.

“Hello.”
Abbey tried to smile.

The
woman glanced at her, then the group of men and back at Abbey, and patted her
hand, offering a welcoming smile. “Hello. Don’t let them bother you, dear.”

Abbey
noticed a Bible in her lap and heaved a sigh. “You’re a Christian, too? That’s
great.”

“Yes.”
She smiled at Abbey and extended a hand that Abbey readily shook. “My name’s
Doris, what’s yours?”

“Abbey.”

“Are
you waiting for somebody, dear?”

“Well,
not exactly.” At Doris’ look of confusion, Abbey went on, “It’s kind of a long
story. I had an accident.”

“Oh,
my dear, are you all right?”

Abbey’s
heart melted at the older woman’s concern. “Yes, I’m fine. But I hit this guy…”

Doris
gasped.

Abbey
patted Doris’ hand. “He’s okay. Well, he was okay.”

“I
don’t understand, dear. What do you mean was?”

Inhaling
a deep breath, Abbey continued, “I was so excited he wasn’t hurt that I went to
hug him and he backed up and fell down the side of the embankment.”

“Oh,”
was all Doris said.

“The
guy probably thinks I’m a raving lunatic. He wouldn’t even let me help him up
after he fell.”

Doris
chuckled.

“What’s
so funny?” Why was this woman laughing? She couldn’t have been there to see the
whole fiasco. Although, when Abbey thought about it—it did seem a little funny
now that it was over. Somehow, she doubted
Limpy
would agree.

“That
sounds like Bruce,” Doris said, still chuckling to herself.

“Bruce?”
Maybe she should ask Doris why she was here.

“Yes,
Bruce Harrington. He wouldn’t happen to be the man you ‘rear-ended’ today,
would he?” Doris asked.

“It
might be.”

Doris’s
face sobered.

“Well,
the officer said his name was Harrington. I didn’t know what his first name
was,” Abbey admitted, shrugging. “Do you know him?”

“Oh,
yes. I work for Bruce.”

“You
do?” Abbey squeaked, feeling her face grow warm.

“He’s
a sweet boy, takes a bit to warm up to though. Been a bit too serious since his
father died.”

“His
father died?” Abbey blinked away tears that threatened to come. Having lost her
own father to cancer, she could understand what pain it must have caused Bruce.
Every year at Father’s Day, Abbey found herself tearing up at the mention of
dad or father, even if it wasn’t a reference to hers.

“It’s
been awhile, dear. Nearly eight years ago.” Doris shrugged. “Bruce seemed to
change after that—not as happy-go-lucky as he used to be. It’s a shame. He was
such a happy boy.”

“Sounds
like you’ve known him for some time.”

“Yes,
I used to work for his parents and stayed on with his mother after his father
died. Then she remarried and moved to Illinois. Now I clean on Tuesdays and
Thursdays for Bruce and fix him dinner. He’s not home long enough to make a
mess. It doesn’t give me much to do.”

A
woman in low-cut, faded jeans and a T-shirt came into the room, waltzed over to
a tall slim man with a beard and shoved him. “What the heck do you think you
were doing—throwing Jerry out of the window?”

“Hey,
we were drunk. It was an accident,” the man countered in defense, waved his
hand in dismissal and said, “Aw, forget it.” Then strode out of the waiting
room.

Abbey
tried to ignore their conversation. Even if it was a private conversation, they
were voicing it loud enough for everyone to hear—whether or not they wanted to.

 “Looks
like they were partying kind of early,” Abbey commented to Doris.

“No,
I believe it carried over from last night. It broke out into a friendly fight
this morning. From what I understand, they’ve been waiting for their friend to
get out of surgery.”

“I hope
he’s okay.” Abbey said a silent prayer that he would be and added on one for
his salvation. In case he wasn’t a Christian, it never hurt to pray.

“There’s
Bruce,” Doris announced cheerfully and stood, walking over to greet him. He was
in a wheelchair.

Abbey
gulped and followed behind Doris—as far behind her as she could.

“There’s
someone here to see you.” Doris turned to look for her.

Bruce's
expression quickly changed from a faint smile to an outright glare. “You! What in
tar nation are you doing here?”

“Figures,”
one of the men with the group in the corner proclaimed in a loud voice, “she’s
married.”

It
distracted Abbey only a moment, she turned back around to see the backside of
the nurse wheeling Bruce out of the waiting area and into the open foyer. She
hurried to catch up with them. Doris was already alongside him, chattering in a
low voice while giving him a stern look. If one didn’t know better, they would
have thought she was his mother.

When
Abbey approached them, Bruce looked up and glared at her. “You were going to
tell me what you were doing here?”

“I
was? Oh, yeah, I was,” Abbey stammered. “I came to apologize for what happened.
It’s been a really horrible day.”

“You
can say that again,” he muttered.

Abbey
ignored his snide comment. “I didn’t mean to run into you.”

“With
your car?”

“No.
Yes. I mean, you’ve got me all flustered.” Abbey planted her hands firmly on
her hips.

“I
doubt that it takes much to get you that way.”

“Bruce,”
Doris admonished with a light rap to his upper arm.

Bruce
frowned at Doris, then turned back to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry. You were
saying?”

“I
was trying to tell you I’m sorry you got hurt. If I could change everything
that happened I would.” Tears welled up in Abbey’s eyes, her throat
constricted.

“Abbey
even drove all the way down here to see if you needed a ride home,” Doris said
in her defense.

Bruce’s
right leg was wrapped in bandages to his knee. Abbey wanted to cry. It bothered
her that he was hurt, because she was the one who had caused him this pain. If
only she hadn’t tried to drive earlier when she’d been emotional about Gary
manipulating her out of her promotion and job.

“Don’t
cry. I hate it when women cry.” Bruce asked Doris to bring her car around to
pick him up and instructed the nurse to wheel him outside to wait.

Abbey
followed alongside him, wiping away droplets of moisture with her forefinger.
“Will you forgive me?”

“Yes,”
was all he said.

Abbey
stood in silence a moment. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?
Maybe pick up your car for you or something?”

Bruce
laughed. “I could use an assistant and a chauffeur. Not that
you
could
help.”

“I
might be able to. I’ve worked in an office for years and I can definitely
drive.”

Bruce’s
arched eyebrow was all she needed to know that he doubted her ability. After
this morning, she couldn’t blame him for having reservations.

“I
was a teenager then, my first year of driving.” Abbey crossed her heart.
“Honest.”

“I’ll
have to take your word for it.”

Abbey
smiled.

“Good.
I was serious about driving you around.” Pointing to his bandaged leg, she
continued, “It honestly doesn’t look like you’ll be able to drive yourself for
awhile. And maybe I can help you with the other part, too.”

Abbey’s
mind was already working overtime. She could apply for unemployment, if need
be, and go job hunting in between driving Bruce from place to place. Chances
were, he would only need a ride to and from work. How hard could that be? He
might even give her a name of someone she might contact about a job. Referrals
went a lot further than cold contacts.

“Don’t
you already have a job? Or are you planning to take an extended vacation to be
at my beck and call?”

Abbey
laughed. How many women wouldn’t take a lifetime off to be at his beck and call?
He was kind of handsome with that lopsided grin he was giving her—at least she
thought it was a lopsided grin. Maybe he was smirking, again.

“I’ve
got some time off. Actually, I’m kind of between jobs. Maybe you’ll be so
impressed with me, you’ll beg me to come to work for you.” Abbey chuckled.

“My
assistant will be back from maternity leave in a few weeks.”

There
he went raising his left eyebrow again. Made him look cynical and more
intellectual.

“Why
are you looking at me like that?”

Abbey
bit back a response as Doris pulled up, got out of the car and came around to
their side. Abbey opened the back door of the passenger’s side for him. “You
have a habit of arching your left eyebrow.”