Leave yesterday behind, p.5
Leave Yesterday Behind, page 5
He stepped into the room. “My niece, by marriage, is an RN. A petite, redheaded spitfire. Used to do hospice care but it killed her marriage. Phil, my wife’s nephew, said she got too involved with her patients, which made his life an emotional roller coaster. Divorced her after a couple of years.”
“You can’t mean Gretchen Monroe?” Dr. Maxwell asked, a look of horror on his face.
Waggoner smiled. “Yeah. You know her?
Maxwell sniffed. “She is very unorthodox. I don’t know if Miss Chennault needs that kind of disorder in her life.”
Callie grinned. “She sounds perfect.” Anyone the doc didn’t like would be right up her alley. She glanced at Waggoner. “How can I get in touch with her?”
The detective returned her smile. “I can have her here in less than an hour. She was coming over to have coffee with my wife this morning.”
He pulled out his cell and punched it once. “Hey, babe. Gretchen still there? Uh-huh? Put her on.” He cupped the phone. “My wife and I still see her. Phil? We sorta gave up custody of him.”
Waggoner removed his hand. “Hey, Gretchen. I know you’re between jobs. I found one for you. You’ll like her a lot. Uh-huh. Yeah. She’s one of my cases. We’re... uh-huh. Right. Okay. Room 642. Come on over. I’ll give your name to the guard posted outside.”
He slipped the phone inside his jacket pocket. “She’ll be here soon.”
The physician snorted. His blatant disgust amused Callie. She put on Jessica’s sweetest smile.
“Would you meet personally with us to go over any instructions, Doctor?”
Maxwell glared at her. “I have other patients to see. I’ll get back here when I can.”
She knew he would keep them waiting but she smiled all the same. “Thank you so much.”
The doctor strode from the room. Waggoner came closer and pulled up a chair. “Guess we ticked off Mighty Doc.”
She laughed and held her side. “Don’t be funny, Detective. I will not forgive you if I split these stitches. I refuse to be held hostage here another day.”
“You might split them anyway.” Waggoner leaned forward in the chair, his countenance serious. “We got him.”
His words stunned her. “You... you...” She couldn’t spit anything out, her mind going numb.
He nodded. “The picture we released based on your completed description brought a flurry of activity. It usually does. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s a wash. But this time, we hit pay dirt pretty quickly. Five of the first seven calls logged sent us looking in the same direction. Two knew the guy’s name. Worked with him in a hardware store in the Bronx. The others were all customers who’d been waited on by the creep.”
He sat up, his face more serious now. “Except the one call from his P.O., that is. We nabbed the guy in the middle of his bi-weekly check-in. He lawyered up fast but we have him in custody. Apartment’s already been swept. More than enough evidence that ties him to your attack. He even had your purse with your cell phone inside, though it was shut off. You can relax, Callie. We got him.”
She began to cry and couldn’t stop. The floodgates opened and Niagara Falls spilled over. Waggoner came and sat on the bed. He wrapped his arms around her and let her dump a river down his shirtfront.
Relief was a big part of it. She realized she’d been tense ever since she’d awakened in the hospital. Fear would come and go in uncontrollable waves. Even knowing she was safe in a public facility with an armed guard stationed only a few feet away, she still had bouts of terror. Nightmares, too, came and went.
Lefty had been caught. She was safe. That is, if the legal system could scrape together the proof in the proper manner and convince twelve citizens to lock her attacker away forever.
Her crying subsided and she leaned back into the pillows, spent. Waggoner pulled a few tissues from the box beside the bed and handed them to her. She blew gently, as any pressure caused her entire right side to throb. She wiped her eyes and then smiled at her new savior.
“Thank you.” Her voice quavered slightly.
“That’s my job, Callie. Getting the bad guys.” He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “Even better, I’ve matched you and Gretchen up, too. It’s a great day all around.”
He stood. “You need some time to be alone and process all this. I’ll let you soak it in.”
“You’ll come by tomorrow? Or better yet—I’m going home. Would you mind... I mean... could you stop by my apartment?”
“Sure, kid.” He smiled. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll be your ride home. How about that?”
Callie spirits soared at him. “Can we use the siren? I’ve always wanted to do that.”
He laughed. “Whatever you say. You’re the famous Callie Chennault. Your wish’ll be my command.” He rested his hand on the door handle. “We’ll keep the police detail in place until you’re discharged tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”
Callie raised a hand in goodbye as he opened the door and left.
She took a deep breath and realized how utterly exhausted she was. She closed her eyes.
She was finally safe.
Callie stretched lazily as she awoke. She sucked in her breath quickly as the pain rocked along her side in ripples.
“Hurts like hell, doesn’t it?”
She opened her eyes to find a beautiful redhead with large blue eyes and creamy skin sitting next to her bed.
“You must be Gretchen.”
“The one and only.”
The woman stood and took Callie’s wrist in a professional manner, studying her watch. She nodded to herself, a satisfied smile playing about her lips.
“I talked to the girls at the nursing station. Between them and reading your chart, I’m pretty much up to speed.” She took her seat again.
Callie nodded. “We’re supposed to meet with my doctor sometime later today. What time is it?”
“A little after three.” Gretchen sighed. “I heard you have Hannibal the Horrible. Maxwell’s nickname, you know.”
She shuddered. “He is a world-class jerk. He doesn’t want to let me go home to Louisiana. He seems to think it’s locked in the Middle Ages. Or worse.”
Gretchen studied her. “Hmm. You’re a Southern gal. No accent, though. Although I’ve heard Jessica lay on a Southern one before.”
“That was eons ago. When she... oh, don’t tell me you’re a Sumner Falls fan.”
The nurse laughed. “Wasn’t until I started hospice care. You wouldn’t believe how many sick and dying people watch TV. I guess they like escaping from their own problems. Sure, they enjoy watching their game shows or even the news programs but they love nighttime dramas. Sumner Falls always crops up as a favorite, and you in particular.”
“Seriously? Jessica can be a real bitch sometimes.”
“But a vulnerable one. That makes a difference. I had a patient once—Henry Greenley. Admitted to seventy-five but I think he was well into his eighties. Diagnosed with inoperable cancer. We spent his last six weeks together. He wouldn’t miss a day of you. We started with the first season you arrived and watched every season available on Netflix. Twice. Even at the end, when he was in and out, I’d make sure the TV was playing Sumner Falls episodes so he could hear your voice.”
Gretchen stood, her arms wrapped around her. “Remember the moody chef you married?”
Callie cocked an eyebrow. “One never forgets marrying a moody chef, no matter how long ago it was.”
“Well, Henry was pissed that you two were together. It was just before he died and he hadn’t been able to follow much of anything. He slept more and more. But he opened his eyes wide and clutched my hand and asked me if Jessica and that temperamental chef were really going to tie the knot.”
Gretchen laughed. “I told him yes, that the moron proposed to you. Henry said that Jessica was too good for that bastard because he’d never treat her right.” She looked down at Callie. “Those were his last words before he slipped into a coma.”
Callie’s throat grew tight. Tears filled her eyes.
“Yeah, Henry knew that egomaniac of a chef wasn’t the one for Jessica. Despite all her bravado, Jessica’s got that lost little girl side. People want to protect her. People like her, deep down. They may love to hate her at times because she’s got so much and she causes so much trouble and makes so many mistakes—but that’s why they always keep forgiving her and taking her back. She’s a very human character, Callie. You should be proud of the work you’ve done over the years.”
“Thank you.” It came out a whisper. She felt raw, almost as much as she had when she’d awakened from Lefty’s attack.
“Well, Dr. Horrible will give us a boatload of instructions, but you and I will pretty much piece together what’s best for you. I’ll cook for you and help you in all your personal matters. Get you to your medical appointments. And as soon as we can, we’ll start some physical therapy.”
Gretchen pulled out a notepad and a pen from her purse. “Let’s get some basics down first. I don’t think you’ll have a restricted diet. Your injuries wouldn’t prevent you from eating what you wanted. I’m sure after being in the hospital this long, you’ve been dreaming of plenty of things you’d like to scarf down.”
The pretty nurse studied her a moment. “You look a little on the skinny side. What presses your buttons? Pizza? Ice cream? Chocolate?”
Callie moaned. “You just named my three favorite food groups. What I wouldn’t give for a Dove Bar and a pizza with all the works.”
“Anything you don’t like?”
“Liver. Anchovies. Beets. And English peas. Yuck to the max. I love tuna casserole but I pick out all the peas in it.”
“Okay. I’ll go over to your apartment later and throw out what needs to go from the fridge. Poke around and get some ideas of what you might want me to stock up on.”
“I use Sam’s in the Village for my groceries and sundries. I’m on account there.”
Gretchen made a note. “That’ll be helpful. I’ll also straighten up, change the sheets, make everything nice and cozy for your return. I’ll go through your messages and make a list of who’s called and what about. Once we get home, you might want to let me know who you have to talk to, who gets the ‘wait until she’s stronger’ line, and which ones I need to dump.”
Callie smiled. “You’re so organized. It sounds like we’re going to get along great. Besides the fact that Dr. Horrible didn’t want me to hire you. That told me right away that we’d click.” She thought a moment. “Are you allergic to dogs?”
“No. Do you have one? Who’s been feeding and walking it?”
“My best friend, Beth Mitchell, has graciously taken in Wolf.”
“Romy? Romy de Shoenberg? Oh, all my patients were so sorry when she died in that avalanche, escaping from a serial killer. She was a real favorite.”
Callie smiled. “She did go out in a pretty spectacular way. She told the writers to make it big and make sure she’d never be able to come back. She was getting married and wanted to stay home and have kids. She didn’t want any temptations whispering in her ear to come back to the show. She wanted a clean break.”
“She could always come back as her evil twin. It’s been done to death but the fans would love that. Maybe she and Jessica could be best friends and cat fight over—”
“Whoa. Slow down, girl. Jessica is on the shelf for now. That’s one thing I’ll need to talk to my agent and the showrunners about.”
Gretchen’s eyes widened. “No more Jessica? Then Sumner Falls might as well throw in the towel.”
“No guilt trips, Gretchen. It’s something I’ve been thinking about even before this mess happened. I think Jessica needs to go off on an extended European vacation. For a year at least.” Callie massaged her stiff neck. “I need some time to think about what I want to do. I’ve spent my entire adult life playing Jessica. My entire twenties and into my thirties. I might need to see what else is out there.”
“Okay. Shall I set up a meeting with your agent? Would you rather it be over the phone or in person?”
She thought a moment. “I think face-to-face. Harry’s been good to me. I’ll be going home tomorrow. Make it for the day after that. All my numbers are in the address book next to my landline and also programmed into my cell. Beth took it back to my apartment so I’m sure it’ll be easy to spot. I’ll write down my passcode and a few key names for you and who they are.”
Using Gretchen’s notepad, Callie scribbled away, including a few instructions the nurse would need.
“I’ll also call my management team and be sure you’re given full access. Would you see that Beth is there when we get home tomorrow? I’d love if she would bring Wolf home.”
Gretchen smiled. “He’ll be the best medicine for you. Don’t worry, I’ll walk him and everything. I’m crazy about dogs. My ex hated them. And I spend so much time with my patients, I never thought it was fair to have one.”
“You’ll love Wolf. He’s an Akita, a Japanese breed. Bigger than a German shepherd. Fluffiest white coat you’ve ever run your fingers through. He’s also the only dog I’ve ever had that didn’t have chronic bad breath.”
“He sounds adorable.”
A sharp rap on the door startled them both.
A look of mischief crossed Gretchen’s face. “It’s The Hannibal Show, now playing in Room 642. I guess we better get this over.”
Callie smiled at her fellow conspirator. “Come in,” she called.
Chapter Seven
Callie watched the scenery rolling by, excitement building within her. As they passed the lush, green trees that lined the Louisiana highway, she knew she was almost home.
Home.
Though she wanted to leave New York immediately, it took a few months of intense physical therapy before she actually felt strong enough to make the trip. She didn’t want to arrive at Aunt C’s as an invalid. She wanted to be able to walk out the back door down to the lake and stroll peacefully, feeding the ducks. Not like a stiff Frankenstein, a patient that needed to be coddled and cajoled.
She was better now. Not a hundred percent by a long shot, but definitely on the road to recovery. She needed the open spaces that Noble Oaks would provide both inside and out. Claustrophobia crept upon her like a cat silently stalking a mouse. It seized her at moments that brought sheer terror. Her apartment, while spacious by New York City standards, seemed to grow smaller and smaller, as if she were a caged bird who yearned to spread her wings. She needed room—and lots of it—if she were going to heal. Mentally, that is.
Callie spotted the mileage sign and pointed it out to Gretchen. “Look—Aurora’s just a few minutes down the road.”
“I can’t believe we’re almost to Hicksville. Driving to the moon would’ve been faster, Callie Chennault. If I colored my hair, I'd have needed to use two more boxes by now.”
“You’re the one that wanted us to drive,” she noted. “See the U.S., eat at local diners, and keep Wolf from being crated on the plane ride down. Sound familiar?”
Gretchen groaned. “So, I might’ve made a mistake. After all, the most I’ve ever seen is upstate New York and the Jersey Shore. I thought a road trip would be a ton of fun.” She glanced at Callie. “You have to admit the food has been pretty amazing. It’s just taken. For. Ever.”
Callie shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted us to take our time. Not put too big a strain on me.”
The redhead snorted. “That’s before you took over the music. Before I knew you had this obsession with Frank Sinatra and Glenn Miller. How does a twenty-first century woman even know about these guys? And women like... like...”
“Billie Holiday?”
“That’s the one. Boy, she has a set of pipes on her, but it’s so depressing listening to her sad songs.”
“Well, I like her. Once we get settled, I’ll drag you into New Orleans. We’ll hear some real blues, live and in person. Preferably with a couple of hurricanes in hand.”
Gretchen gave her a sideways glance. “How far is civilization?”
Callie laughed. “Aurora is civilized. It’s up to about thirteen thousand now. It’s got a diner and a bakery with a few tables and chairs. You can sit and schmooze with the locals in the morning while you drink your coffee.”
“No Starbucks. No bookstore. No frank and soda carts. No nightlife. I may go out of my mind, Callie. You’ll be putting me on a plane to New York this time tomorrow.”
“No,” she said firmly. “You’ll love it. Aurora’s got a rhythm all its own, and New Orleans is only about a half-hour away. We’ll make plenty of time to go into town and shop. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat some more. Drink a little.”
“Pick up men?” Gretchen asked hopefully. “I think it’s time I got back into circulation.”
Callie sniffed. “Wolf is about all the man I want in my life right now.”
At his name, the dog stuck his head over the seat. She swore he smiled as both women automatically rubbed him, one scratching between his ears while the other patted his massive chest.
“I plan on getting you into tip-top shape, Miss Chennault,” Gretchen threatened. “Then we’ll go bar hopping in the Big Easy in sparkly spandex and stilettos.”
“I didn’t pack anything remotely like that.” She chuckled. “Actually, I’ve never bought anything like that.”
“Well, you brought everything except your bathroom sink. The kitchen one did make the trip, I think,” Gretchen quipped. “You need to compliment me again on my wonderful driving with that little trailer fishtailing behind us all the way from lower Manhattan.”
Callie laughed. “You’ve done an excellent job, Nurse Ratched.”
Her friend cranked up the air conditioning another notch. “Why is it so steaming hot here?”
“Because we’re arriving in mid-August. I’ll admit, not the best time of year. But you’ll really like it, Gretchen. I promise. And you know I wouldn’t have come home without you.”
It was true. She and Gretchen had formed a firm friendship over the last few months. The nurse accompanied her to every doctor’s appointment. She’d rallied Callie’s spirits when they were low, giving her both a mental and physical boost. Gretchen even sat in on every meeting connected with the show, including the nightmare of talking with the producer and writers regarding her future on Sumner Falls.
