ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT? (Running Wild) (9 page)

Chapter Ten

“Maxine?”

At first Maxine thought Edna’s voice was part of the dream she was having.

“Maxine? Maxine, honey, are you awake?”

She wasn’t. Her head was stuffy from crying; her eyes felt glued shut. She forced them open and saw Edna standing beside the bed, the portable business phone in her hand.

Maxine reached over and switched on the bedside light. The clock radio said three-fifteen. She’d been asleep only a little over an hour.

She’d gone to bed right after Polly left, but she couldn’t sleep. Instead she’d pulled the blanket up over her head and let the shame, the disappointment, and the betrayal of the evening roll over her in hot, sickening waves.

She hadn't tried to stop the sobs that racked her, or the tears that soaked her pillow. It had taken a long time before she slid into sleep.

“Maxine, sorry to wake you, honey, but there's this guy on the phone who swears he’s a doctor. He keeps saying Polly asked him to give you a message. I thought at first he was saying massage.”

"Polly?” Maxine tried to make sense out of it and couldn’t. "But how does he know Polly?”

Edna shook her head. “You got me, but he knew your name. He asked for Maxine, not India. Will you talk to him? He’s pretty insistent."

Maxine sat up and stuck a pillow behind her, and Edna handed her the phone.

"Hello?” Her voice was croaky from sleep and crying, and she cleared her throat and tried again.

"Hello?”

"Is this Maxine?"

The voice was pleasant, and he sounded amused.

"Speaking.”

“This is Bruce Turner, Ms. Bleckner. Dr. Bruce Turner. I’m calling for Polly Kelville. She and I had a little car accident earlier this evening, and she expressly asked that I call and tell you so.” 

The message registered and Maxine was suddenly wide-awake. “My God. Oh, my God, is she . . . is Polly okay?”

“I'm sure she’s going to be fine. She’s heading into the operating room just now, where the surgeons will repair a compound fracture of her left leg. I believe that and a pretty good bang on the head is really all the damage she sustained. I understand she had a slight concussion.”

"Are . . . are you her doctor?”

“Nope, I’m the guy she hit with her car.” He sounded so cheerful about it that Maxine relaxed a little.

“I’m a doctor, though, OB-GYN. I was heading home after a delivery,” he went on, adding, “I do better with contractions than with fractured legs.”

"Were you hurt in the accident, Dr. uh, Turner?”

"Call me Bruce. They dug a little piece of glass out of my forehead, but that’s all. I'm absolutely fine.”

“I’m glad. What. . . what happened? The accident, I mean.”

“Oh, Ms. Kelville made a turn into the left lane and drove her car into the side of mine.” Again he sounded surprisingly lighthearted about it.

“I’ll be right there. Tell Polly I'll be there as soon as I can.”

"Don't rush; it’ll likely be several hours before she's conscious.” He paused a moment and added in a thoughtful tone, "Although if she happens to come to and you’re not here, she’s not going to be impressed with either you or me. The lady does have a way with words.”

“I’m coming right away. I don't want her to wake up alone.”

“Right you are. Oh, and tell your friend— Lily? Lilith, that’s it. Tell Lilith I greatly enjoyed our conversation. If things ever get boring here at St. Joe’s I’ll be sure to call again.” He chuckled and hung up.

“What’s happened to Polly? Who was that?” Edna’s forehead was creased with worry.

Maxine explained as she scrambled out of bed and hurriedly pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. "It sounds as if Polly’s the one who got the worst of it. This Dr. Turner also said he’d enjoyed the conversation he had with you. What's that all about?”

“Oh, he called on the business line,” Edna said apologetically. “I thought he was one of those nutsos who are into medical fantasies when he said he was a doctor, and I just went along with it. I’m afraid it took me a while to figure out that he actually was a doctor.”

Under other circumstances, it would have been funny, but both of them were too concerned about Polly to be amused.

“Don’t worry about Graham, I’ll stay until you get back, of course,” Edna said. “Just be sure to 

call me and let me know how she’s doing.”

"Thanks, Edna. You’re such a good friend.” Maxine put her arms around Edna and hugged her. “I probably don’t tell you that often enough.”

It felt strange to drive through the city’s quiet streets for the second time that night. She was exhausted, and everything seemed overwhelming. Inside her head the entire evening replayed all over again, from the moment she’d spied Harold, tall and so sexy, waiting for her in the lobby of the hotel.

She’d been terrified. Her mouth and her knees were both trembling when she first spoke to him.

She’d built up an illusion about Harold, a crazy idea that he’d be the man she’d imagined Ricky was in the beginning, the man she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl longing for a Barbie doll.

Her father wouldn’t allow Barbie in the house. Zacharias felt the doll was indecent, not a suitable toy for the daughter of a minister. Over the years he’d also criticized Maxine’s clothing, her hair, and her personality. The one thing he hadn’t been able to touch was her fantasy life.

And that was the beginning of India, Maxine thought, turning up Burrard Street to get to St. Joseph’s Hospital.

As a girl growing up she’d imagined herself beautiful, sensual, untamed. And she'd envisioned the man who'd be her lover. Of course, he’d be the total opposite of her father. He’d be a man who laughed and loved with an open heart, a confident man who celebrated all the things her father deplored in her.

And as she grew, so did the longing to be loved. She’d blinded herself to things that should have warned her what kind of man Ricky was. She’d gone on loving him long after some part of her knew he was dishonest and a cheat.

And now she’d gone and done it again.

Harold had made her feel special. She’d been seduced into believing he was different, that he saw beyond the facade of India to Maxine.

What a gullible fool she was, she thought, turning in to the parking lot at St. Joe’s. Well, no more. She slammed the car door to punctuate the vow.

Inside, a man at the information desk directed her up to the surgical floor.

“Ms. Kelville is still in surgery,” the tall nurse at the desk informed her. "You can wait just along the hall there, and as soon as the operation’s over I'll have Dr. Bellamy come and speak to you.”

Maxine bought a cup of coffee from the machine and settled down to wait. Even though it was the middle of the night, there was activity, nurses bustling up and down the hallway, a telephone ringing.

“Ms. Bleckner? I’m Dr. Bellamy.” A tall, stork-thin man still wearing operating room garb came into the room. “Ms. Kelville is in recovery. The operation was a total success, and her leg will be as good as ever once it heals. She’ll have to do some therapy, of course. You’ll be able to see her in a short while.”

Maxine found a telephone and called Edna, filling her in on what the doctor had said.

"Graham’s just waking up. I’ll unplug the business phone while I change him and give him his cereal.”

“Thanks, Edna. I want to talk to Polly before I go. The doctor said it shouldn’t be too long before she’s conscious.”

But it was the better part of an hour before a nurse came to take her to Polly. She had intravenous tubes in her arms and a cast on her lower leg. Her forehead had a huge blue lump, and her eyes had shocking purple smudges under them. She seemed to be sleeping, and Maxine didn’t want to disturb her, but the nurse had no such reservations. She said in a loud voice, “Ms. Kelville? Ms. Kelville, wake up. Your friend is here.”

Polly's eyes reluctantly opened, and when she saw Maxine, recognition slowly dawned and her face crumpled. 

"Maxine, I’m so glad you came,” she said in a thick, slow tone. “Jesus, Maxine, I smashed into a dumb doctor’s car. He’s probably gonna sue the ass off me.”

It was so typically Polly, Maxine had to laugh. And any sign of vulnerability quickly faded as Polly got her bearings. "Did you meet that idiot ass of a doctor they allowed to practice surgery on me?"

"He’s nice, Pol. I’m sure he did a good job. He said the operation went perfectly, that you’d be absolutely fine as soon as your leg heals.”

“I’ll believe that when I get a good look at what he did to my leg. Did he say when I could go home?” Polly's voice was anxious. “I hate doctors and hospitals. I want to go home.”

Maxine had thought about that while she was waiting to see Polly. Polly’s apartment was downtown, on the fifteenth floor of an impressive building, with a magnificent view of Stanley Park, but the stairs in the lobby weren't designed for someone in a wheelchair. Or on crutches, either.

Maxine’s house, on the other hand, was all on one level. She could move Graham’s crib into her own room.

“I think you’ll have to stay here for a couple days."

Polly groaned and cursed in a steady stream.

“And when they release you, you’re gonna come home with me for a while," Maxine said firmly. "At least until you can get around on crutches."

Polly argued a little, but Maxine could tell that she was relieved. It was the first time she’d ever seen Polly vulnerable.

"Only if you let me baby-sit Graham for you,” was Polly’s final concession.

Of course Maxine agreed, and then Polly complained that she was cold, and the nurse went for a spare blanket. But before she got back, Polly fell asleep in the middle of a sentence and started to snore.

The nurse came with the blanket, tucked it around Polly, and told Maxine she should leave.

“She’s probably going to sleep most of the morning.  We’ll be moving her to the surgical ward in a little while.”

“Please tell her that I’ll come back tonight. Is there anything she needs?”

“Is there anything you want your friend to bring you, Ms. Kelville?" The nurse gently shook Polly’s arm. "Ms. Kelville, wake up. Is there anything you need?”

Polly stopped snoring and opened bleary eyes. “I need to sleep, for god’s sweet sake. Is there some bloody law against a person sleeping in this damned place?”

Maxine apologized. The intrepid nurse simply asked again if there was anything Polly needed.

Polly took a sulky moment to think about it. 

“My makeup, and some decent pajamas, and some good underwear," she recited. "And something that’ll go over this obscene thing on my leg, sweatpants I guess. There are a couple of sweat suits in my drawers at home. I want the pink set and the yellow. My keys must be around here somewhere. God knows what they’ve done with my purse.” She gave the nurse an accusing glare. “Where’s my purse?”

"We have it at the desk,” the nurse said in a patient tone. “As soon as you’re moved to the surgical floor, we’ll bring all your things and put them in the locker in your room."

“Well, be sure to give Maxine my ring of keys,” Polly ordered. She turned her head to Maxine. “Don't take any snot from the nursing staff, either. This is why we pay medical."

Maxine felt her face redden with embarrassment. The nurse sniffed and walked away. Polly was not going to make friends here in the mood she was in, but Maxine wasn't brave enough to tell her so. Obviously Polly wasn't in any mood to be reasoned with.

"Hold it,” Polly ordered in an imperious tone as Maxine started to leave. “That’s not all. Call Judd at the clinic and tell him what happened. His number’s in my address book at home. Oh, and I’m gonna need some of my files. Tell Judd to get Shirley to bring them; she’ll know which ones. And tell him he’s gonna have to do that frigging motion for discovery on Monday, the Smith thing.”

As she left, Maxine felt guilty about feeling relieved.

The friendly nurse at the station had Maxine sign a form and then let her take the keys to Polly’s apartment.

It was only a short drive from St. Joe’s, and at this hour of the morning there was street parking.

Maxine made her way through the elegant lobby and up to the fifteenth floor.

She’d been in Polly’s apartment only once before, for lunch on a Sunday, with some of Polly’s other female clients. It had been Christmas, and Maxine had worried about what to wear, expecting sleek sophistication and cool elegance. She’d been taken aback by the cluttered, casual apartment, and by Polly’s total unconcern for dust and litter.

That hadn’t changed. Books, magazines, and the pages of several different newspapers were scattered across the floor in the spacious living room. The coffee table held a stack of file folders and several thick books on law. In the kitchen, dirty dishes and the dried remains of at least three meals were strewn over the table and the counters.

Maxine shook her head. Polly, who always looked as if she’d been put together by a fashion coordinator, was a slob at housekeeping. 

She found the address book and called Polly’s associate at his office number. It was too early for him to be there. She left a lengthy and detailed message on his answering machine.