Waking Up (13 page)

She pushed away from him, and he let her go. Whirling to her feet and taking a few impatient strides away, she snarled angrily, “I have no intention of doing a single thing I don’t want to, do you hear?”

“You have made it abundantly clear,” he replied drily, squatting back on his heels as he watched her agitation.

She spun on her heel to face him again. “Then let up on me!” she cried explosively.

His face, his eyes, his stance, his voice were all implacable as he shook his head and whispered, “No.”

She whitened as if struck. “You’re going to lose my friendship. You’re going to drive me too far.”

At that he smiled gently and repeated, “No. The conflict is all within yourself. You can’t place the blame on me for what you’re feeling.”

She bent her head and rubbed her eyes wearily with thumb and forefinger. She felt exhaustion seeping into her limbs and mind, clouding her perspective, confusing her. “Damn you, why?”

“You said it yourself, Robbie,” he replied and straightened. Something throbbing crept into his voice. “I want you.” She covered her face with her hands at his bald statement. “Are you busy tomorrow?” he asked suddenly.

Her head lifted fractionally. “What do you have in mind?” she returned with some wariness.

His bare shoulders and chest shook in a silent chuckle. “I thought we could go to Cedar Point, if you’d like to. I hear that the weather is supposed to be sunny.”

She lifted her heavy gaze to his face and stared at him blankly. Here she was, tormented by the newly born desire she felt for someone she had always considered as a brother. Here, she was, a skittish virgin, struggling to comprehend her feelings of friendship and feelings of sexuality towards this young man, who had no difficulty at all meshing the two together in his mind, and flitted without apparent effort from one aspect of their relationship to the other. What was the secret? How did he do it? Was the act of mating as casual as that in his mind? Was it so important, in hers?

Yes.

After standing patiently as the moments ticked by, searching her face and trying to read the strange expressions that raced across it, Jason commented, his tone mild, “I wasn’t aware that it was such a difficult decision.”

“What? Oh, tomorrow,” she replied, pretending to be absent-minded when in actuality she was aware of every move, every breath, every expression of his. “Sure, I’ll go. I didn’t have anything else planned.”

“Such enthusiasm,” he muttered sardonically.

They made plans then, casually snapping at each other as though they were indeed brother and sister, and Jason took his leave. By that time, the afternoon had advanced so that she had to get ready for work. She carted the lounge chair back inside, showered and changed, and then left a note for her father before leaving the house. In it, she explained her plans for the next day, for she doubted if she would see him before tomorrow night, if then.

She took the drive to the restaurant in a daze, unaware of the green atmosphere around her or of the mellow brilliance of the late-afternoon sun which promised a glorious sunset as it sank towards the west.

Her mind definitely wasn’t on her work, either, as she punched her time card in and donned her frilly apron. Her mind was filled with faceless, formless shadows, with Jason and his inexplicable attitudes and mood changes, with her own confused longings and ideals.

There wasn’t any question in her mind that she wanted Jason. But part of the problem was that she fully expected to meet a man with whom she would fall in love. She wanted to marry. She liked the idea of having a life partner. Though she wasn’t necessarily looking for marriage, it was lurking at the back of her mind whenever she was attracted to someone. How could she allow herself to get tangled into this physical attraction for Jason?

It wasn’t as if there was anything wrong with him, she conceded silently, as she flew back and forth and mixed up her order, generally making a mess of her station. He was good-looking. He would make someone a wonderful husband some day. He was strong, reliable, and had everything going for him. His future was tremendously exciting to contemplate. But he was Jason, the boy next door, the dirty, skinny ruffian who used to plague her to no end. He was the one who had thrown leaves in her hair, who had stuffed moss in her tennis shoes, who had treated her with insufferable condescension.

But when he was with her, all such thoughts flew out of the window. He stood upright and tall, with that lovely, lean, muscular body which fascinated her so. He made retorts with biting sarcasm, he listened to her with the patient wisdom of one far older, he gave her a devastating, rare honesty, was remarkably supportive. And when he kissed her, she lost all self-control.

She was being stupid. No one saved themselves for marriage anymore, not in this day and age. They took love where they could find it. They were pragmatic and said goodbye when the time came. They understood conflicting loyalties and ambitions and realized that sometimes love wasn’t forever.

There was nothing wrong with taking what she wanted from Jason, except for the fact that she was afraid she might not be able to leave it at that.

She was afraid that she might want something more, might become so entangled with infatuation for him that she would lose sight of what she wanted.

Heaven help her when she really fell in love.

The restaurant was frantically busy. When Robbie finally took her supper break, she was too tired to even think about eating. She put her head down on the table and dozed until Marilyn shook her shoulder, informing her that it was time to get back to work.

“Are you all right?” asked the blonde with some concern, for Robbie was pale and unusually lethargic.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she replied with a yawn as she forced herself to stand. Her head ached dully, and her legs felt like used rubber. “I haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights, and it’s beginning to catch up with me, that’s all.”

“Hmm. Well, you don’t look okay. You look awful,” was Marilyn’s rather tart reply. “Maybe you’d better have another cup of coffee before getting back to work.”

She had to laugh. “If the three cups I’ve already had don’t help me, then nothing will! Have any of my tables left?”

“Yes, and your tips are in a coffee cup, by your station. You’ve just got a new table. I’ve set them up with water. They should be ready to order in a few minutes.”

She groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Well, thanks. I knew it would be too much to hope for things to slow down this early!”

“Nothing’s wrong, is it?” asked Marilyn, looking down as she made a great fuss about straightening her apron. “Are you still seeing Jason?”

The other woman’s question startled Robbie unduly, and she replied with too much emphasis, “Jason and I were never really dating. He kindly escorted me to your party, but really, there’s nothing between us!”

“Oh!” Marilyn was flustered and made some effort at recovery. “Oh, I see. I hadn’t realized. Things looked a bit…well, different at the party.”

For some reason, that brought to mind the time Jason had kissed her in the pool, and her face flushed scarlet. “Well, we’re close friends, so it might be easy to think we’re romantically involved,” was all she could think of to say.

“I see,” repeated Marilyn slowly, eyes shrewd as she took in Robbie’s heightened color.

But Robbie knew very well that the older woman didn’t see at all and instead of trying to explain the intricacies of a relationship she didn’t understand herself, she gave it up and went back to work.

What followed soon afterwards was predictable, in the light of her own preoccupied exhaustion and the frantic pace of that night. What followed should have been expected, as a hurrying waiter spilled water on one of the few steps that led down to the secluded section of the restaurant that was Robbie’s station. He rushed to the back for a cloth, anxious to mop up the water before someone slipped and fell.

Which was just as Robbie was coming out to take up her station again; tired, with slowed reactions, anxious to get the evening over with so that she could go home. As she went down the steps, her foot slipped on the spilled water, but she moved too slowly to catch herself. She saw herself fall almost in slow motion down the rest of the stairs.

Her foot turned underneath her, taking her entire weight, and she crumpled to the floor. She didn’t even scream. She was too busy grabbing for the ankle on which she had so agonizingly landed, her face a paper-white mask.

Chapter Seven

Everything that followed her accident was a new experience for Robbie, who had never suffered anything more than a pulled muscle in her entire life. For a moment, nobody even noticed her sitting so quietly on the restaurant floor, doubled over her awkwardly bent leg.

Then she heard someone utter a shocked exclamation, and chairs scraped across the floor as a young couple seated at a nearby table saw her and came over concernedly. “Are you all right, honey?” asked the brunette anxiously, as her husband knelt on the floor.

“I’m not sure,” she said quite calmly and began to shake. Sharp needles were piercing up the length of her leg. The man held his hand out solicitously and helped her to stand on her good foot. Determined to make light of her fall, Robbie tentatively tried to put her injured one to the floor, and the gentle contact caused such excruciating pain that she nearly fainted. The woman went to find the manager, while her husband carried Robbie to a nearby chair. Soon her plight was being discussed over her bent head, while she heard and saw everything around her as though it were filtered through a crimson haze. When the young woman had returned, she insisted on Robbie drinking her glass of wine. The logic of that escaped her admittedly limited thinking at that moment, but the wine was cold and refreshing so she didn’t argue.

Marilyn came over quickly, attracted by the ruckus, and she immediately offered to drive Robbie to the emergency room at the nearest hospital, which the manager was quick to accept. It solved his dilemma nicely, for he had conflicting responsibilities both to see to the welfare of his employees and also to keep the restaurant running smoothly.

He carried her out to Marilyn’s car, and though the trip to the hospital was short, it seemed like an eternity to her as she battled through every moment of pain. Her ankle had swelled rapidly to alarming proportions, and she could only hope that she hadn’t broken it.

At the hospital her ordeal grew much easier as she was given something for the pain. The crimson-like haze faded to a bearable, muddled fog, Marilyn called her father while she was taken for X-rays to determine the damage done by her fall.

The young doctor in attendance treated her with a calm, matter-of-fact manner which was remarkably steadying. After he had carefully studied the X-rays of her slim ankle, he became brisk and cheerful. “You’re a very lucky young woman, you know that?” he told her as she sat, white under her deep tan. Her eyes were enormous, dilated from the shock and the medication, and they sparkled liquid-bright as she stared at him. She was slow to react.

“Oh?” Her voice was a thin, calm thread of sound. “Pardon me if I don’t feel so lucky at the moment.”

He came close and with cool, hard fingers clasped her ankle and foot in his hands. Even that gentle touch throbbed up her leg like fire, despite the medication. She paled even more and fixed her gaze fiercely on a point just behind the doctor’s white-coated shoulder.

“Well, you should be glad to know that you didn’t break any bones. You simply have a very bad sprain. I’m going to wrap it now, and the bandage is going to feel tight because your ankle has swollen so much. Keep it wrapped for a few days, preferably a week if you can manage it, and stay off your feet as much as possible.”

“So much for work,” she muttered and rubbed at her aching temples with her fingers.

“Oh, yes. You’re a waitress, right? I suggest you refrain from working for a few weeks. If you go back to work too soon, you’ll be doing yourself more harm than good.”

He proceeded to bind her ankle tightly, which made her bite her bottom lip so hard that it bled. Afterwards, he wrote her a prescription for pain medication, and she was efficiently settled into a wheelchair and pushed out to the hall, where she found her father sitting with Marilyn, his hair rumpled and his clothes hastily donned. Under his summer jacket, she caught sight of his nightshirt.

The look of concern on Herb’s face had her eyes filling with weak, absurdly easy tears, but she determinedly blinked them back while the doctor cheerfully assured the other two that there wasn’t a thing to worry about. As Marilyn had provided the ER clerk with the necessary insurance information which the restaurant manager had given her, Robbie was free to leave with her father. Marilyn stayed long enough to make sure she was settled as comfortably as possible in the backseat of her father’s car, leg stretched stiffly out and the injured ankle propped on the seat. Then she left, with the assurance that she would call at the house the next day with Robbie’s bag, which had been forgotten in the earlier confusion.

By the time Herb pulled into their driveway, it was very late and Robbie’s brown head had slumped to one side in exhaustion. The medication had taken the edge off her pain, but she was still extremely sensitive to every bump in the road and she was weary from bracing herself against the jolts.

Her father carried her into the house and up the stairs, joking that he hadn’t done such a thing in a good fifteen years, which made her grin lopsidedly. The last time he had carried her, she’d been a good sixty pounds lighter. He deposited her carefully onto her bed and stayed long enough to see that she had her nightshirt and was capable of changing for bed by herself, and then he left again to fill her prescription at the local, all-night drug store.