Raspberry Kisses (The Bakery Romance Series Book 1) (21 page)

Rhea stood, walked over to Mary, touching her bony shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired.”

What could she say? Mary refused to see a doctor and Rhea didn’t want to make her angry by suggesting it again. She took Mary’s shaky hand. “Come, sit down, and rest. Can I get you something? Water?” She’d offer the granola bar in her purse if she thought Mary would take it. Clearly the woman needed some sustenance.

Mary took a few steps and suddenly slumped to the floor, eyes closed.

Rhea’s heart skipped. “Mary passed out! Somebody, help me!” She lifted the phone and dialed 9-1-1. Several of Mary’s coworkers entered, staring at Mary sprawled on the floor. Rhea didn’t want to move her, but she straightened her dress for the sake of the staff.

Mary wasn’t moving, didn’t seem to be breathing. Why didn’t she ever learn CPR? Would Stan’s sister die because Rhea had never learned how to resuscitate someone who was unconscious? Mary couldn’t die now, she just couldn’t. She’d started forming a tiny bond with her sister-in-law. Perhaps that bond could grow into a meaningful relationship.

Now, simply because she’d refused to eat, Mary could lose her life. Rhea whimpered, before speaking to Mary’s staff. “Does anyone know CPR?” 

The receptionist knelt beside Mary, feeling for a pulse, before she began administering CPR. When the dispatcher answered, Rhea spoke into the phone. “I need an ambulance. A young woman just passed out.”

“An ambulance is on the way. Does she suffer from any illnesses?”

She figured Mary would be angry if she told the dispatcher about her problem, but Rhea didn’t have a choice. “Yes, I believe she suffers from anorexia.”

*

What an exhausting day. She’d been in the emergency room for over two hours, fed up dealing with this hospital. She kept asking about Mary and they kept telling her the same thing—Mary told them not to release any information to Rhea about her condition.

Rhea approached the triage nurse. “Are you sure you can’t tell me anything? I’m not sure if I should stick around and drive Mary home.”

The nurse flipped through some papers. “We’re admitting her tonight.”

“How long will she be staying?”

“I don’t know. You’ll need to speak with the doctor.”

The doctor probably wouldn’t tell her anything if Mary told him not to. Now what was she going to do? After waiting around for another half hour, the nurse finally told her Mary’s room number: 203.

She got onto the elevator, pressed the button for the second floor. When she got off she swallowed, vivid memories of the time she’d spent in the hospital when Raven had been suffering from cancer played in her mind. She’d still not heard from her sister, so, she figured it best not to contact her until she was ready.

Spotting room 203, she pushed the door open. Mary laid on the bed, an IV hooked up to her arm. Her gaunt face smeared with tears and her messy hair tangled on her head. She looked up at Rhea with red-rimmed eyes. “I want to go home.”

Rhea pulled a chair up to the bed, sat down. “You probably need to get your strength back before they let you leave. You scared me when you passed out.”

“Rhea, don’t be so dramatic. I just need to go off my diet for a while.” What diet? Starvation? Why couldn’t Mary understand she simply needed to eat? “Did you need me to call anybody? Maybe your parents?” Since Stan’s death, his parents had retired, moved to Florida. The only contact Rhea had with them was via the Christmas card they sent her each year.

Mary’s blue eyes widened. “Good heavens, please don’t contact them. They’d be coming down here, hovering over me. I hate when people pity me. It makes me sick.” Her voice hardened, and she glared at the IV, as if the contraption were the cause for her illness.

“Well, what about…your…friend, Ron.”

She focused on Rhea, her mouth dropping open. “That’s even worse than contacting my parents! I’m not letting anybody know about this. It’s highly embarrassing.”

But, people already knew. Didn’t Mary realize that her staff had seen her passed out on the floor, not breathing? Her coworkers had probably noticed her barely eating, losing weight. “What can I do to help?”

Mary turned her head toward the wall, her pale skin reddening. What was wrong with her? Was she upset because Rhea had offered to help?

“Are you serious about helping?”

“Of course.” Why would Mary think otherwise?

“Well,” she gestured toward her purse. “Give me my purse.”

Rhea gave her the purse and Mary rummaged in it until she found a key. She pressed the key into Rhea’s palm.

“Could you stop by my place before you go home and feed my cat?”

“Sure. You still live at the same place?”

“Yes. Would you mind,” hesitating, she stared at her blanket. “Doing that for me until they let me out?”

“Of course.” She’d have to do it after the bakery closed each night. She was usually fatigued after being on her feet all day, but, she needed to do this to help Mary out. “Did the doctor tell you how long you’d be staying?”

She toyed with the sheet, refusing to look at Rhea. “A few days, maybe longer.”

She’d probably be in the hospital for a while, but didn’t want Rhea to know that.

Mary cleared her throat. “Could you also clean out his litter box for me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll pay you for doing this. I figure you don’t want to do it for free.”

Why would Mary think that? She’d started to think they were forming some kind of friendship, but, from her comment, maybe she’d been mistaken. “The only way you can pay me back is by listening to the doctor’s advice and taking care of yourself.”

Rhea took Mary’s hand, squeezed her fingers.
If she doesn’t start eating, she’ll die.
The unwelcome thought slammed into Rhea’s mind. Seeing Mary’s skeletal appearance suddenly made Rhea sad. Tears spilled from her eyes and Mary gasped, pulling her hand away.

“Why are you crying?” she asked sharply.

Rhea shook her head. “I feel bad for you, Mary.”

Mary’s mouth dropped open and her blue eyes snapped with anger. She got into Rhea’s face, waving her bony finger in the air. Her pale skin flushed. “Don’t be feeling sorry for me, Rhea. I’m not some pathetic charity case. I’m a strong, beautiful woman who owns her own business and I don’t need pity from someone like you.” Her large blue eyes filled with distain as she glared at Rhea.

Rhea jerked back, still clutching Mary’s key. Maybe helping her out was a bad idea – why should she help someone if they were going to speak to her with such contempt? “Don’t talk to me like that, Mary. I’m only trying to help you.” She placed the key on the small bedside table. “You know what, maybe it’s best if you find somebody else to feed your cat.”
Lord, help me not to lose my temper.
She marched toward the door, but Mary’s sharp cry stopped her.

Mary’s eyes glistened with tears, and then she hung her head and cried, her bony shoulders shaking. She howled and Rhea returned to the bed and wrapped her arms around Mary’s skeletal body.
Lord, please help her to get better.

*

After Mary had stopped crying, she drank some water, and fell asleep. Rhea took her time, went to Mary’s home. She unlocked the door and a fluffy white cat approached, mewling. “Hi,” Rhea cooed, lifting the friendly cat in her arms.

Spotting the cat’s dishes on the kitchen floor, she opened the cupboard, searching for cat food. The shelves were lined with cans of tuna fish and gourmet cat food. She placed the cat back on the floor. After she piled a can of food into the dish, the cat ran forward, before hungrily munching on his meal. She filled the second dish with water.

She opened all of Mary’s cupboards. Besides the cat food and tuna fish, the only nourishment she’d seen was a bottle of multi-vitamins and a canister of coffee. She opened the refrigerator and spotted a small jug of milk. The milk was probably for the cat. Rhea slumped into the kitchen chair, studying the cat while he ate from his dish.

Mary fed her cat better than she fed herself. Why in the world would she do that?

Chapter Twenty

Martin opened the large oak doors, in a hurry to exit the church. In his haste, he bumped into Linda Tucker. He gritted his teeth when he looked into her eyes. He nodded at her. “Good afternoon, Miss Tucker.”

She pursed her lips, clutching a large cream-colored envelope in her thin hands. “I’m here to deliver this to your father.” She held the envelope up, smirking. “These are the documents needed for my grandnephew to apply for the pastoral position.”

Martin stepped aside, opening the door for her. “Mind if I ask you something Miss Tucker?”

“I don’t have time for small talk. I’m busy.”

“This won’t take long,” he said, relieved when she didn’t walk inside. “You got the application a month ago. Why did it take so long to return it?” Maybe her beloved relative was having second thoughts about the position and Linda had taken a long time to influence him to apply.

She grinned, narrowing her eyes. “My grandnephew had to get some references. I’m sure you’ve heard of Pastor Frank.”

“Do you mean
the
Pastor Frank?”

Linda nodded.

Martin balled his hand into a fist. No way was he letting Linda know how much her news unsettled him. It’d probably make her happy to know she’d made him upset. “Pastor Frank gave your grandnephew a reference?” Frank Smith was one of the most renown evangelizers in the country. He’d written books, visited several talk shows, and he also led a mega-church in Texas. “I’m surprised that your grandnephew knows Pastor Frank.” He couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice.

She got into Martin’s face. “Well, he
does
know him. Are you implying that my grandnephew is a liar?”

Martin backed away, holding his hands in the air, trying to put her at ease. “No, of course not. I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re implying. You’re saying me and my grandnephew are liars and I’m not going to stand here and listen to you say that mess.”

Linda was the most delusional woman he’d ever met. He had to measure every word he said or she’d lose her temper. “You misunderstood me. I’m impressed. Pastor Frank is well respected, and he’s a gifted preacher.”

“Of course he’s gifted. He recognizes talent when he sees it. That’s why he wrote a personal recommendation for Michael.”

Martin gritted his teeth. What unsettling news! When the congregation discovered that the famous Frank Smith had given Michael a personal reference, the news might sway the vote in favor of his opponent, that is, if both he and Linda’s grandnephew were chosen as key candidates. There were only two months left until the new pastor would be voted on, and a lot could happen in two months. 

He quickly changed the subject, hoping to dispel Linda’s anger. “My father’s not here right now, but his secretary is in. Maybe you can leave the application with her?”

She looked down and strolled through the open door before she stopped and eyed Martin again.

“You know why I have to do this, make sure my nephew gets the pastorship?”

Martin gritted his teeth. “What do you mean?”

“I know about how you used to be. I already told you that. I don’t think you’ve changed. I don’t trust you and neither does God. God would never trust a pastor who abandoned his child.”

Martin winced, his skin growing warm. How in the world did she know about that and would she tell his congregation about it? What would they say if they knew that he’d left the mother of his child when she’d been in labor, refusing to go to the hospital? He’d thought she’d been lying about going into early labor – hoping to stop him from going on his spring break trip.

When he’d returned from the trip, he’d discovered that she hadn’t been lying. She’d had the baby, and the child had died a few days later.

His dark college years continued to haunt him, making him doubt if he was really worthy of being the leader of Holy Grace Community Church. “How do you know about my past?” He had a right to know what Linda had done to find out about his college years. Given her wealth and resources, she’d probably had him investigated.

She narrowed her lips. “I already told you. God’s Holy Spirit told me all about you.” She then turned and stalked away into the church. Martin sighed as he left the building and got into his car, slamming the door shut.

He closed his eyes, his head pounding. If he didn’t calm down, he’d get a headache. He’d never told the church about his wild college years. It’d be best if he told them about that tumultuous time in his life instead of Linda. But, when could he address that with the congregation? Would they be judgmental toward him if they knew, refusing to vote for him?

Would his honesty result in his losing the pastorship?

But, the Lord wanted honesty. One reason why he’d been haunted, upset, was because he had not been open about his past. Was it time to come forward to the congregation about this, let them know about his college years? He closed his eyes.
Lord, help me. Do You really think I should be the lead pastor of my father’s church?

Tell the truth.
He opened his eyes, stared at the parking lot for several minutes. “But, Lord, I don’t know if I can do that now. I don’t have the courage to come forward about my past.” Sighing, he finally started the engine, pulled out of the parking lot.