Society Wives (4 page)

“What would you like to do when you get back this afternoon?”

Sage flashed a naughty smile. “How about a little more of what we did last night?” A second later, Sage sucked in air and said, “Ah man!”

“What?” Nadalia stood back a tad and looked alarmed.

“I forgot. Coffey is in town on business and he wanted to treat me to a few drinks for my birthday.”

Nadalia's hopes were dashed. The well-known sports commentator and host of the Coffey Davis Sports Hour had been Sage's best friend since college. They even played for the same team during Sage's brief stint in the NFL before his injury. There was no telling what time Sage would be coming home if he hung out with Coffey.

“Did Angela come with him?” Nadalia's face scrunched. She figured if Angela was coming to town, she certainly would have called her so they could do lunch and perhaps a little shopping.

“Not this time. Like I said, he's here on business. I gotta run. I don't want to get to the golf course late. The last one to arrive has to pick up the bar tab. I have to at least beat Anderson there. No one ever beats Niles or Mike.” Sage gave Nadalia a quick peck on the lips. “I'll call to let you know if I'm definitely going to meet Coffey this afternoon.”

Nadalia folded her arms and pouted.

“Aww babe! I'm sorry.”

Nadalia waved him off knowing that she probably wouldn't see him again until possibly well into the night, which meant she wouldn't get to spend much time with him during his birthday weekend at all. Sunday, he'd be at the football game, partly for work and partly because he was simply a fanatic who held season tickets.

All this time away from him didn't help to close the gap between them. On the other hand, it did give her some time to conjure up ways to end the negative currents flowing in their relationship.

There was a time when they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Nadalia didn't buy the fact that they were settling into a ‘comfortable' space that couples experienced when sex became lackluster. She didn't want to fall into a groove that felt worn and familiar. They had always been adventurous lovers. She needed the excitement and enjoyed the sparks that flew between them.

Nadalia took sad steps back to her room and crawled into bed. She needed to plan a romantic vacation for them. Maybe they could embark on a quick excursion between the holidays. With their workload, both of them could use the break. One way or another, she'd find her way back to her husband before it was too late.

Chapter 7

Ryan

The cramping in Ryan's stomach that kept her awake half the night, now had her crawling from her bed to the bathroom. The pain stabbed at the insides of her stomach like a timed jackhammer. Assuming it was something she'd eaten at the restaurant, Ryan took antacids in search of relief.

This time she had a real reason to refuse Anderson's advances before he left to go golfing with the guys. She was sick, but still upset at him for his disappearance, which he had yet to explain. Holding out when he finally got around to wanting to make love to her was her way of getting back at him.

When Ryan made it to the bathroom, she noticed a crimson trail leading back to the bed. She reached between her legs and pulled back a blood-covered hand.

“No!” she screamed and scampered to the bathroom on her hands and knees.

Leaning her weight against the tub, she tried to stand and a pain shot through her. Ryan howled, folded her arms at her stomach and crumpled back onto the floor. The pain stabbed at her again, this time taking her breath. Beads of sweat rolled along her face, then dripped onto the blood spotted tile.

She needed to call someone, but couldn't move. Mustering up strength, Ryan dragged herself from the bathroom to the nightstand. The tile and carpet resembled a brutal crime scene after a massacre.

With bloodied hands, she pulled the phone down and dialed her mother. Ryan cried out when she had dialed a third time and couldn't get her. Who else was there to call? She wouldn't call Anderson.

Feeling a panic attack emerging, Ryan took deep breaths. She needed to call 911, but she didn't want to go alone. She tried her mother one last time, still no answer. Ryan knew she was losing time. Her breath was growing faint and her hands were shaking. She couldn't keep calling her mother. Chances were she was in an alcohol induced sleep.

As an only child, estranged from the rest of her family because of her mother's drinking problem, she had no one else to call. And she'd never been any good at making and keeping friends.

Another pain shot through her abdomen and she cried out and then panted. She needed help fast.

The closest people to her were the wives. Calling Pearson was out of the question. She wasn't sure Nadalia had the ability to push herself out of the way to run to anyone else's need. Vonita only lived ten minutes away and she was also a doctor. The fact that she was actually a pediatrician didn't matter.

She dialed the number and thankfully, Vonnie she answered.

“Hey Ryan. I was just about to call you. I——”

“Vonita!” Ryan yelled, gasping for air. “I need you!” Her voice squeaked and she panted out short spurts of breath.

“Ryan! Oh my goodness! Are you okay? Do you want me to call Andy?”

“No!” Ryan spat as her skin grew hot. She released another wail as another pain shot through her belly. They were lasting longer now.

“What's wrong, sweetie?”

“I'm having a miscarriage. I'm here by myself, can you come please!”

“Did you call 911?”

“I just don't want to be alone,” she cried.
Why did Vonita have to ask so many questions?
“Can you come, please?”

“Oh Lord! Honey, I'll be right there. It shouldn't take more than ten minutes. Do you want me to get Andy on the phone while I'm on my way?”

Ryan wouldn't say to Vonnie that calling Andy would be a waste of time.

“Please don't call anyone,” Ryan cried out again. “Just. Come. Now!”

“On my way!”

“Vonnie!” Ryan caught her just before she disconnected the call. “I'm upstairs in my bedroom. There's a key under the potted shrub by the door. Please hurry.”

“I'll be there as fast as I can.”

Ryan dropped the phone and slumped over. Before she grew too weak, she dialed 911 and panted out her issue to the operator. After, she dropped the phone and tried to summon what little strength she could as she waited for Vonnie. When she felt like she would pass out, she started praying the way her grandmother had taught her.

“Ryan!” Vonnie's voice carried as she barreled up the stairs. She had made it in no time.

Ryan winched, squeezed her eyes shut and took several quick breaths. She couldn't get any words past her dry mouth.

“Ryan!” she yelled again just before busting through the bedroom door. Once inside, she froze.

Ryan read the horror on her face as she looked around the room. “Oh my goodness, Ryan. There's so much blood!” Vonnie covered her mouth and blinked fast.

“Help me, Vonnie.” Her voice sounded like it was fading.

Shaking off the shock, the doctor in Vonnie jumped into action. She ran to the bathroom. Ryan heard her slamming the medicine cabinet and vanity doors, rummaging through their things.

Vonnie reemerged with wet towels and a thermometer. She stuck the thermometer in Ryan's mouth, and then grabbed her wrist in search of a pulse. She looked at her watch and counted under her breath. When she was done with that, she read the thermometer and placed her hand across Ryan's forehead.

The blaring sounds of the police and ambulance sirens pierced the air. Vonnie ran downstairs to let them in. Her return along with the harried footsteps of the ,s sounded like a herd of stallions. They were communicating in a medical language that Ryan didn't understand. She tried hard to focus, but their voices were fading in her ears.

The EMT's took her blood pressure, then slapped an oxygen mask on her, wrapped her in a blanket, slid her onto a gurney, and rushed her to the ambulance.

Hours later when Ryan woke, Vonnie was sitting beside her bed in the recovery area. Vonnie took Ryan's hand and rubbed her thumbs across her small fingers.

“How are you doing?”

“I'm not pregnant anymore, am I?”

Tears filled the wells of Vonnie's eyes and then spilled over the rim. “No honey. I'm so sorry,” she said, squeezing Ryan's hand.

“Don't be.” Ryan turned her head. She didn't have any more tears for miscarriages.

“You're going to be okay.” Vonnie wiped her tears. “This wasn't the first time, was it?”

“No!” Ryan kept her head turned away. “How'd you know?”

“Women know these things and so do doctors.”

Ryan snorted. “Yeah.”

Vonnie lifted her finger like she just remembered something and then rummaged through her bag.

“I have your cell phone. You've missed a few calls,” she said, handing the phone to Ryan.

Just as she suspected, her mother had called several times. Nothing from Anderson.

“Have you spoken to anyone?” Ryan winced, trying to reposition herself on the narrow hospital bed. Vonnie tried to assist her, but Ryan held her hand up. “I've got it.”

She was afraid for Vonnie to touch her. Every muscle and limb felt sore. Her pelvic area felt hollow, making her feel less than a woman. That reality made her breathing heavy, like boulders had been placed on her lungs.

She couldn't break down in front of Vonnie. She'd seen enough of her life for one day.

“Are the men finished golfing?”

“Yeah. Don't worry. I didn't say anything. I told Mike that you and I were having lunch.” Vonnie sniffed out a small laugh. “Those men get so excited when we get together without them.”

“I know.” Ryan shifted again and grimaced. “I should call my mother back.”

“I'll give you some privacy. If you need me, I'll be right outside. I want to talk to the doctor again before I leave anyway.”

Ryan grabbed Vonnie's arm before she walked away. “Thank you.”

Vonnie smiled. “No problem at all.”

Ryan called her mom once Vonnie was out of sight. Bracing herself, she took a deep breath, pulling strength from the depth of her core. She counted the rings as she slowly exhaled. No answer. She ended the call and dialed again. This time she left a lengthy message. As soon as her mother got it, she'd be at the hospital in no time, ready to do her part. They'd done this dance several times before.

Chapter 8

Vonnie

Vonnie yelled out to Mike louder than she had the moment before. Frantically, she shook a fragrant mix of seasonings over the ground turkey and sausage, mixed with garlic, onions and peppers. She pushed the ingredients to her infamous turkey lasagna around in the large pot while opening the oven with a gloved hand to peek in on the stuffing.

“Coming!”

“You said that ten minutes ago! I need you now!” Vonnie rolled her eyes.

“I'm coming now!” Mike screamed back.

Another few minutes passed and Mike was still a no-show. Vonnie tossed her apron onto the center island, armed herself with the rolling pin she used to flatten the crust for her sweet potato pies, and charged through the halls of their expansive ranch home toward the bedroom.

“Mike!” As she suspected, he was still lying in the bed.

Mike peeked over the covers; Vonnie raised the rolling pin high in the air and Mike scurried back under the covers.

“Okay! You got me!” He laughed, trying to avoid Vonnie's strikes with the rolling pin.

“You're such a liar! Get up! You're supposed to be helping me.”

Mike threw the covers back and grabbed Vonnie's hand before she could hit him again. He pulled her down and positioned himself on top. Vonnie giggled and squirmed beneath him.

“Get off of me!”

Mike grabbed her hands, held them out and kissed her neck. “No!” Vonnie jerked and squealed as he pinned his mouth between her neck and chin. She hated being tickled.

Mike released her, rolled over and jumped to his feet. Vonnie tossed the rolling pin at him, which he swatted and squatted into a karate stance. “Waaa!”

Vonnie didn't want to, but she laughed anyway. His ability to put a smile on her face and a laugh in her heart was her kryptonite.

“Ouch.” Mike held on to his lower back.

“That's what you get,” she said as she peeled herself up from the bed. “Your old behind!”

“Whatchu talkin' bout!” Mike said, mimicking his uncle's country lilt and broken tongue.

“The hangover. All that drinking you and the boys did last night. Now you can't get out of bed. You can't handle it like you used to.”

Mike puffed his chest and flexed his muscles. Vonnie knew he was about to protest or perhaps do something silly to prove he still had it.

Mike released the air he was holding in a rush and deflated his stance. “You're right. My ass
is
getting old.” He leaned on the armoire and held his back, then pretended to walk with a cane.

“Silly behind.” Vonnie threw a pillow at him. “Get your old ass in the kitchen and open those cans of tomatoes for me. This house is going to be full of people in less than two hours.”

“Yes Ma'am!” When Vonnie looked back at Mike, he was standing at attention saluting her.

Vonnie shook her head and walked out of the bedroom. She returned to the kitchen, checked her pots, took the stuffing out of the oven and headed to the formal dining room to finish setting the table. Mike swooped in on her and hugged her from behind.

“Do you know how beautiful you are when you're working hard?”

“Mike!”

“I'm serious. You get that intense look on your face.” Mike squeezed her. “And nothing or no one better get in your way because you're on a mission.”