looked surprised by her curt tone.
“Nora, if it is the flu, you need to be checked out. Let me call someone.” His voice softened. “I can call Gail. I’m sure she’d come over to examine you.”
Nora laughed softly. “I think you’ve forgotten something. Gail’s a pediatrician and I’m not five years old.”
“That doesn’t matter. She’s still a doctor,” he persisted. “She can still tell you if it’s the flu or something more serious.”
“It’s not the flu. Something I ate disagreed with me. That’s all. All I need is something to settle my stomach and some quiet time. Both of which I’ll have once you’re gone,” she said pointedly.
He didn’t move. “If you start feeling worse, will you call me?”
Nora edged him toward the door. “Yes, I will call you,” she lied.
He looked at her searchingly. “No, you won’t,” he said finally. “I wish you’d let me into your thoughts, Nora. I don’t know why you won’t believe it, but I do care what happens to you.” He leaned forward, kissed her on the forehead and walked out the door. “And I mean it, Nora. If you need something, call me no matter what time it is. I’m off for the next few days.”
“All right,” she lied, knowing it was the only way he’d leave.
Mark looked skeptical. His expression let her know that the small smile on her lips and her impassive gaze was an assurance that didn’t ring quite true.
“Try to eat something,” he said.
“I will,” she replied, mentally urging him out the door.
Thankfully, this time he heard her silent plea and headed the rest of the way to the door. The minute he was on the other side of the threshold, she flashed him one last smile of dismissal.
Nora had barely closed the door after Mark when she felt the familiar upheaval in her stomach. She clapped her hands over her mouth and ran to the bathroom with faithful Brumby toddling after her. She didn’t think about Mark any further.
A couple of hours later, after a bowl of chicken noodle soup, which she always considered one of her comfort foods, she curled up in bed. A favorite movie on TV provided background noise that mingled with Brumby’s rumbling snores.
When the telephone rang, she reached over to pick up the handset.
“Hello?”
“Nora, it’s Mark. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
You should have known he would call to check on you. Mark may have been a wild boy at times, but he was also a caring one shot through her mind. She was rocked by a familiar voice echoing inside her head.
“I’m much better, thank you. Proof it had to have been something I ate,” she replied.
“You looked pretty pale earlier,” he pointed out. “Even if you feel better now, it doesn’t mean you might not have the flu.”
“Most redheads are pale. That’s why we have the hair to make up for it.” She pushed her pillow behind her as she sat up.
“That’s what your grandmother used to say.”
“You remembered that? You only saw her, what, two or three times?” she said, surprised.
“Hey, don’t sound so surprised,” he chuckled. “Your Grammy Fran reminded me a lot of my grandma. She always spoke her mind, let you know where you stood with her and she was a lady who fully enjoyed her life. Who wouldn’t remember someone that special?”
Nora couldn’t keep the tears back. She felt a strange tug down deep in her stomach along with a soft ache in her heart. The need for Mark to hold her in his arms was strong.
“She once said your shirts were so loud she’d never need a hearing aid around you.” She pressed her fingertips against her lips, unsurprised to find them trembling. She took a deep breath. “Mark, I have to go. Good night and thank you for calling.” She pushed the disconnect button and set the handset down. She picked it back up and shut off the ringer. She curled up under the covers and closed her eyes. A moment later, she took further precautions by pulling her second pillow over her head.
Nora couldn’t remember experiencing a more miserable night. By the time she fell into a decent sleep, Brumby was uttering throaty growls and pawing at the doggie door that Nora kept locked at night because the neighbor’s cat liked to make late-night visits.
The next morning, after spending most of the day before in bed, she felt more human and even hungry.
As she cooked breakfast, thoughts raced through her head. Too many questions and not enough answers. If she and Mark had made love when they were seeing each other, would she have been so quick to break it off with him?
“There’s no guarantee we would have stayed together,” she told herself as she slid behind the wheel of her lime-green Volkswagen Beetle. “Mark liked to party too much. I didn’t. And then, I convinced myself that I was the damper on the relationship and I dated way too many guys to prove I could be a wild woman. All I got out of it was a case of dating overload.” She looked both ways before zipping onto the busy highway that paralleled the beach.
It may have been mid-September, but the weather was more like June. She wished she’d lowered the convertible top before she left the house so she could have enjoyed the morning sun the way so many Californians did that day.
Nora parked in the grocery’s parking lot and walked swiftly toward the store. Her steps faltered momentarily when she saw a tall figure wearing a colorful shirt. Then the man turned and she realized it wasn’t Mark.
“What’s wrong with me?” she muttered, picking up her pace. “The sex wasn’t that good.”
Liar.
“Shut up,” she ordered the voice inside her head.
Come on, Nora, the man did things to you that had you tied in knots. Admit it. You never had anything as good as what you had those nights. The man was fantastic.
“There’s nothing worse than a mouthy conscience.” Nora blithely ignored a woman’s startled glance in her direction as she snagged a shopping cart and headed for the produce department.
Ordinarily, she would have treated her trip to the grocery store with the same enthusiasm she greeted a trip to the dentist. She’d been known to pick up a week’s worth of groceries in ten minutes flat. Today was different. She first picked up a latte at the coffee bar. Then she took her time strolling up and down each aisle as if she were a world explorer on a quest. By the time she finished her shopping, she not only had everything that was on her list but a great deal more than she’d normally eat in a month. A stop at the dry cleaners, the drugstore, and she finished up her errands with shopping for new toys for Brumby at a popular pet superstore.
“Pig ears for my baby,” she announced, carrying bags into the house. Brumby made his way toward his mistress, drool dripping from his jowls. He accepted his favorite treat with a canine grunt of thanks and waddled off to his favorite spot where he could enjoy it in peace.
As Nora put away her groceries, she had an unsettling thought. She’d bought enough food to feed two or more. Anyone coming in would think she was expecting company.
Company such as Mark, who’s always been known for his large appetite; in more ways than one.
She grimly stifled the crowing voice in her head.
“It’s to make up for those days I felt as if I couldn’t even drink water,” she told herself.
That night, Nora cooked herself a huge meal and savored every bite. The following morning, she woke up convinced she was going to die.
“Please tell me you have an opening this morning,” she begged her doctor’s receptionist when she called to see if she could get a last-minute appointment.