Chapter 17 #2
Fumbling her way out of bed, she grabbed the phone from the nightstand before it kicked over to voicemail. If she’d stopped to check caller ID, she would have known who was on the line.
“Maddie?”
She rubbed her eyes. “Yes?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar, as her still-groggy brain struggled to emerge from its fog of sleep.
“It’s me,” a male said hoarsely. “Rex.”
She knew she must be dreaming again. “Rex?” she whispered, as if she spoke too loudly she’d be wide-awake and her dream bubble would burst.
The next sound was a cross between a rumble and a cough.
“Sorry. Can’t talk well.”
Which was when Maddie knew it was him, it really was. She sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Rex?” she said, more loudly that time, hoping it might somehow help him clear his throat.
“I was an accident.” His voice sounded as if it was being filtered through gravel. His sentence didn’t make sense, and yet, of course, it did.
“So I heard.” Her eyes filled with tears. “How do you feel? Are you still in the hospital?” Kevin hadn’t had an update for a few days, and Maddie hadn’t had the courage to ask. Or to call Annie, not that she had her number.
“Annie’s house,” he replied. “Nurse.”
Did he mean that Annie was nursing him?
“Is Annie there?” she asked. “Can I talk to her?”
“Nurse,” he said.
She tried to form her words again, hoping if she enunciated differently he might better understand. But as she began, another voice came on the line. A female voice.
“Hello?”
Maddie swallowed. “Annie?”
“No. This is Beth. One of Rex’s nurses.”
“Are you at the hospital?”
“No. His doctors agreed he could leave as long as he has twenty-four-seven nursing care. I’m on seven-to-seven, morning to night. He’s been at Ms. Sutton’s house a couple of days now, and my shift just started. We also have an aide on duty. Anyway, he insisted I let him call you.”
Maddie bit down on her lip that had started to quiver. “How … how is he?”
“He’s coming along. He has physical therapy twice a day and occupational therapy once every afternoon. For all he’s been through, he’s doing well.”
She closed her eyes. “He won’t be coming home for a while though, right?”
“That’s not for me to say. I only know the doctor won’t release him to travel until he’s well enough. But his daily progress is good.”
“May I speak with Annie?”
“Sorry, she left for work already. We’re here in her nice cabana, though. She had it set up like a hospital room for him, except it has a view of the ocean. Rex likes looking out at it.”
Of course he does, he grew up on an island, Maddie wanted to say, but did not.
“Shall I put him on again to say good-bye? It’s time for his medication and a little more sleep.”
“Yes,” Maddie said. “Please.” There was a faint rustling sound, followed by words Maddie couldn’t decipher.
“Maddie?” His voice sounded clearer that time, but tired.
“I miss you,” she said, though she hadn’t meant to because she didn’t want to upset him.
“Be home soon,” he said.
Swallowing and closing her eyes again, she simply answered, “Good. Because I can’t wait to see you.”
“Bye.”
“Bye, Rex.” Silence followed. Then she added, “I love you.”
“Hello?” The voice came from the nurse again; Rex must not have heard Maddie’s last words.
Which was probably just as well.
Exhausted as she still was from the night before, Maddie did not want to go back to sleep; she wanted to shower, run downstairs, and share the news with Francine. After all, she’d talked to Rex, she really had. And he’d sounded great. Sort of.
Her first stop was his upstairs kitchen to start brewing coffee.
A small bag sat next to the fancy coffeemaker; Maddie picked it up and peeked inside.
A bagel that wafted of “freshly made” was tucked inside.
A note was included—a nice one, not scary.
See you downstairs at 11:00? Eat this first. Lox and cream cheese in fridge.
You’ll need the energy! F.? Below that Francine had written: P.S. Great job last night, Tks.
Francine was a dear girl.
Then, checking her watch, Maddie saw it was ten fifteen.
Her long-lost adrenaline kicked in.
After wolfing down the bagel and chugging half a mug of coffee, she took the quickest shower she ever had, then dressed in the black pants and turtleneck and quickly rinsed her dress because the restaurant had been crowded the night before and, yes, a patron had bumped into her while she balanced a tray and two plates with bay scallops, fresh-caught in Vineyard waters that day, and potatoes dauphinoise, from an original eighteenth-century recipe from the South of France that somehow managed to splatter Maddie’s apron and one side of her dress.
As she hung the dress on the shower rod, she wondered if other women had showered there—and, if so, how many. At this age, it was more a curiosity than a need to know, unless one of Rex’s “formers” still had her sights on him.
She supposed it was possible.
But with no time left to lollygag, she swallowed her penchant for overthinking, put on her game face, and rushed downstairs where she donned a clean apron and prepared to serve the happy couples.
Somehow, she made it through the weekend, though by Sunday night, she felt sick.
She wondered if she’d stressed herself out by working practically nonstop for so many hours, and if menopausal women shouldn’t do that.
But to be honest, Maddie knew that over these past weeks, her brain wasn’t the only part of her that had been suffering: She hadn’t felt terrific since she’d stood in the parking lot at the Black Dog Café on January 3rd, and Kevin had called with the news about Rex.
But she was too tired to think about feeling a bit off, as her father would have called it; her task for the weekend was complete, and she’d loved every second of it.
After Francine locked up, Maddie hugged her good-bye and decided to stay in Rex’s apartment that night, too, rather than make the drive back to Menemsha.
She slept better than she thought she would have.
In the morning, she tidied up after herself and repacked her suitcase.
On her way out of the bedroom, she saw the socks she’d borrowed sticking out from under the bed; they must have landed there when she’d peeled them off Saturday morning.
She picked them up now, folded them, and opened the top drawer of Rex’s bureau to put them back where she’d found them.
But as she started to set them inside, she noticed a blank envelope.
In her hurry, and in the darkness on Friday night, she hadn’t noticed it before.
It didn’t look like the same size as the one the notes were delivered to her in. And yet … she couldn’t resist lifting it up to be sure. As she did, she saw a greeting card, not a note, under the flap; he hadn’t yet tucked it in.
Maddie had no intention of looking at it, but the front of the card was staring up at her.
It was white with black outlines of two stick figures, one of a boy, the other, a girl.
The only color came from two red hearts, placed anatomically (sort of), and had red dotted lines connecting his heart to hers and hers back to him.
Both of them wore a smile, and they were holding hands.
More out of instinct than curiosity, Maddie opened the card; there was no printed text or sentimental poem, only a line of scrawly penmanship that read: I LOVE YOU SO DAMN MUCH. Beneath that, Rex had signed his name.
Maddie was stunned, then excited, then …
Wait, she thought. Her name wasn’t there. Had the card been meant for her? Or for someone else?
Her pulse started to gallop; her stomach somersaulted. Quickly, guiltily, she shoved the card back where she’d found it, as if someone else was in the room, witnessing her intrusion. If the card wasn’t for her, she didn’t want Rex to think she’d been snooping.
Besides, there was nothing she could do about it.
Not a damn thing.
Except hyperventilate, which was what she started to do.
Sitting back down on the bed, she tried to ease her breathing. She wondered if she should see a doctor or call Taylor, the EMT. She decided to first go outside for fresh air.
Maybe this was what jealousy felt like. Maybe it was how Rafe had felt after the Kiera debacle. Maddie now felt guilty for not having tried harder to prop up her son.
But that didn’t matter now, either. She needed to be able to breathe.
Grabbing her things, she hurried down the stairs and outside.
She paused on the sidewalk and took several short breaths of cool, fresh morning air.
As she closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, she was finally able to slow her thoughts, which helped her breathe more deeply and then feel a little better, very little, but at least it was moving in the right direction.
Making her way to her car, she decided to head for the hospital anyway. If menopause was responsible for her overreaction, she needed to get some medication or simply advice, something to help keep her body under control, “nip it in the bud,” as Grandma might say.
She wondered why first her father, now Grandma were kicking around in her current frazzled brain.
Maybe because they help calm you, she thought.
And they did. Until Maddie drove past the pharmacy at the Edgartown Triangle and she had a sudden, strong zap of intuition, followed by another flash of panic.
After a quick gulp, she made an illegal U-turn and pulled into a parking lot, where she turned off the engine and, again, struggled to breathe normally.
Five minutes or more later, her strength regained, she got out of the car, walked into the store, and made a purchase.
Then she swung a left out of the lot, and found her way to West Tisbury Road, heading back to Menemsha, not to the hospital.
But when she was almost at the airport, she changed her plan again—because she could no longer pretend she was fine … without first losing her mind.
Pulling into the airport lot, she stopped the car, dashed into the terminal, and hurried into the restroom.
Thankfully, the handicapped stall was vacant; there was more space in there, though she had no idea why she thought that should make a difference.
Locking the stall door behind her, she sat on the toilet, ripped open the pharmacy package, and peed onto the wand of the pregnancy test.
Three minutes later, the result boldly announced: positive.