Liquid Lies Part 3

"Thanks. You're the best." I could eat anything on rye bread.

"Now go to the locker room and change out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold." She handed me the sandwich wrapped in wax paper.

"Thanks. See you later." I unwrapped the sandwich as I walked over to the bulletin board inside the ticket booth. I grabbed the schedule for the rest of the week and headed over to the locker room.

As I exited the ticket booth, I heard the beeping of a trailer backing up. It went down the cement ramp next to the pavilion and then unloaded a red boat into the water. White letters on the back read, 'I Sea You.' Ken's new boat. I wanted to take a closer look, but my makeover from the mortician-in-training waited.

As I rounded the corner of the pavilion my black Labrador, Skipper, almost knocked me over. "Hey there." I bent down and scratched him behind his ears as he enthusiastically wagged his tail. Skipper looked up and licked my face. I tore off a big chunk of the sandwich and handed it to him and he gulped it down in one bite. I gave him the rest.

My aunt Estelle walked over and kissed me. "I thought I would take him for a walk. What happened to you? You're soaking wet. And you've got a cut above your eye."

"I'm fine."

"Wait a minute young lady. Were you the one that nearly drowned? The whole town is talking about it. Oh my goodness. What happened?" She held her hand to her heart.

"It was nothing at all. I just slipped off the boat," I said, trying my best to act nonchalant so as not worry her.

Her eyes narrowed under her wire-rimmed bifocals. She pulled a handkerchief from her basket and held it to the cut on my forehead, "I think you need to get that looked at."

"I got checked out and have a clean bill of health. I don't want you to worry one second. Promise me?" I gently pushed away her handkerchief from my head. "So what's in the basket?"

"A letter from some attorney I got a while ago. I'm giving it to Hazel to look over. Oh, and some cookies for her to sample. I made them with a special ingredient: capers." Estelle's broad smile pushed her plump rosy cheeks to a full mound under her bright hazel eyes.

"Wow." I was at a loss for words. Estelle thought she was a Midwest version of Paula Deen. I'd never had the heart to tell her that her creations, like her sausage and fish tacos, her jalapeno infused chicken Cordon Bleu, and chocolate carrot cake, although full of enthusiasm and zest, were mostly unpalatable.

She pushed a chunk of the cookie in my direction. "Open up."

I automatically opened my mouth. The salty and bitter taste battled each other. Both flavors lost the war of edibility. I winced.

"You don't like it?"

"The lake water must have screwed up my taste buds. I'm sure they're great. Listen, I have to run. Mark is waiting to do his makeup magic on me. I'll see you at home later on. Love you." I gave her a kiss and patted Skipper's head. "Oh, I almost forgot. What about this letter you got?"

"It's no big deal, I'll tell you about it later." Estelle called after me, "Get out of those wet clothes."

I strolled into the locker room, grabbed my dry outfit and went back to the restroom and changed. When I entered the locker room, Mark had the makeup from his mortician school spread out on one chair and he motioned for me to sit in the other chair.

The locker room didn't have a mirror, and the restroom mirror was permanently fogged. "I hope you brought a mirror so I can see myself after this experiment?"

"That's one thing I don't have with me." Mark began with a sponge full of dark orange brown foundation on my face. "Trust me."

Glancing at the makeup, I realized none of the colors would match my complexion. Actually, none would match any human's complexion, dead or alive.

This could be trouble. Was a free Reuben on rye worth it? As if on cue, my stomach growled. I was here for the duration of the makeover, even though I had a fleeting second thought about going through with this. But, Mark needed the practice, and it's only makeup. I could always wash it off.

We chatted while Mark sponged, brushed and rubbed makeup onto my face. An hour later he was done with me. He took a few pictures. "You've helped me out so much. Once I show my instructor that I've got this down, I get to do the next client myself."

"That could've been me." I grabbed a paper towel and began to wipe off the goo. It stuck to my face like cement. I had to get some industrial strength soap. As I left the locker room, my cell rang. I answered.

"You need to get to the hospital now," said Ken.

"Actually I have this horrible makeup on that I have to take off, and then I have some things at work to finish up..."

I heard him sigh into the phone. "Please? Come here now."

"Actually, I want..." He hung up before I was allowed the opportunity to fully respond.

Chapter Four.

"Dr. Kenneth Wilson, please come to floor three," the unit secretary said over the pager.

When I saw Ken emerge from the hallway, my heart skipped a beat. As always, his tousled sandy brown hair, light blue eyes, and tall stature had the power to grab my attention.

"I heard about your accident," he said as he walked over and kissed me. "I'm ordering a CT scan." He tugged me into an exam room.

Deciding not to get up on the exam table, I sat down in a chair. All six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds of him hovered over me. He reached into his white lab coat pocket and pulled out a penlight.

I winced as the light blinded me. "Who told you?" I grimaced. "Mark?"

"Mark. Estelle. Hazel. d.a.m.n near the whole town." He leaned over me, touching the cut above my eye. "It isn't deep, you don't need st.i.tches. But you did hit your head so I want the CT."

"I don't know what they told you, but I don't need a CT. I'm a little hungry for a BLT though."

He smiled. "Did you know that Francesca is back in town?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Earlier today I saw her heading up to the executive offices." He pointed to the ceiling. I'm a.s.suming that is where the hospital's CEO and other high up administrators had their offices.

"I saw her this morning after I took a swim," I said under my breath.

"Isn't it great to see her again? It's been years."

"Yup." And not one second of the past four years has gone by without me wanting to undo what we did that last night we were together.

"Hey I have an idea. I had gotten us concert tickets to see that band you love. You know, the same concert you went to on Francesca's eighteenth birthday? I was going to surprise you and take you, but why don't you and Francesca go together? It'd be a perfect way for you two to reconnect after all these years. What do you think?"

I felt like a sand bag had slammed into my gut. That is the very last thing I wanted to do. "Sounds great, but um..."

"So it's settled then." He took my head in his hands. "Looks like you got some color today."

Quickly recomposing myself, I tilted my head back in a pose. "Mark practiced with his mortician makeup on me. What do you think? Should I let him do my wedding day makeup?" I batted my eyes.

He smiled and shook his head.

"Do you have some strong industrial strength soap here?" I asked.

"Sure, I'll get you some in a minute." He then felt the area above my eye. It hurt, but I wasn't going to tell him that as I smiled through the pain. I wanted to get on with my life and forget this morning.

"Any vision problems?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Dizziness? Nausea? Pain?" He raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the exam table next to me, arms crossed over his chest.

Right after I was rescued from the lake, I had coughed up water, but I didn't consider that nausea. And the aspirin Hazel had given me had taken care of the head pain. And I hadn't had dizzy spells. No lies here. "All good."

"Hmm." Ken felt around my skull, and again looked at the cut. He placed a stethoscope on my chest and had me breathe deeply in and out. "Lungs are clear."

"See, I'm fine." I walked to the exam room door. I performed a quick one-foot in front of the other and finger to nose driver sobriety test. "So, I'll see you later tonight then?"

"Okay. You're not drunk." His eyes twinkled as he smiled. "You're just a stubborn nutcase."

Rising on tiptoes, I hugged him and then grabbed the door handle.

"Not that fast. I'm still ordering the scan." Ken scrawled something on a script pad, ripped it off and handed it to me.

Shoving it in my pocket, I said, "Completely unnecessary."

"With a head injury, you don't have a choice." He picked up his phone and made a call.

Ken's deep baritone voice always comforted me and made me feel safe. In some way he sounded like my dad. "It's all set. Third floor, they're waiting for you."

"You know I could go to the pediatric unit instead and entertain the kids. I've already got the funny face on."

He pulled out a blue bottle from a cabinet and gave it to me. "This will wash off anything."

"Thanks. See you later."

He kissed the top of my head then patted my backside. "I'm working late this evening, and now I have to finish rounds. They'll call me with your results."

"But..." I stammered. Rats. I guess being chief resident allowed him some pull for an immediate scan.

"Go." Ken turned on his heels and left me alone in the exam room. I watched him walk down the hall.

On my own for a moment, questions filled my head. Why didn't Ken like Mark? If he never accepted Mark in my life, then could I live without Mark? No, I couldn't. Could I live without Ken? That I didn't know. Six months ago I would have said no, but now I wasn't sure.

I trudged to the elevator, got in and reluctantly pushed the b.u.t.ton to the third floor.

Sometimes, it's a pain in the a.s.s to be loved.

After the CT, I left the hospital and sauntered along the lakefront footpath back to Estelle's house.

The City of Round Lake mandated that all lakefront homeowners provide an accessible sh.o.r.eline path between their palatial homes and the lake. Some lakefront homeowners lined their paths with decorative, wide stone pavers, gravel or wooden plank walkways. However, other stretches along the lake were nearly impa.s.sable except for a thin strip of crushed weeds. As I walked on the gra.s.sy path, the late afternoon sun lit up the waves in shades of red and orange.

Along the sh.o.r.e side of the path were paG.o.da dogwood trees showing off their fragrant creamy flowers. With each small breeze, a shower of blossoms floated down, lining the ground in white petals and filling the air with a sweet bouquet.

As I rounded a corner of the path, I looked up. Walking straight toward me was the guy I saw fighting with Francesca this morning. I a.s.sumed he was trouble, and this put me on edge. He stopped right in the middle of the path blocking my way. His eyes stared me down as he crossed his arms over his chest in what I considered a territorial stance.

Estelle taught me to befriend all I met. I said, "So how's the hammer?"

He frowned and scrunched his eyebrows together. "Hammer?"

"This morning I saw you with it hanging out of your ... never mind." What the h.e.l.l was I talking about?

His expression didn't change and he held his stance.

Sweat beaded on my forehead. My heart raced. "Maybe we can discuss the merits of screwdrivers the next time we see each other. I have to get going," I said.

Standing less than three feet away from him, I noticed he wore a cross, made out of two finishing nails soldered together in the middle. It hung on a black rope that hovered just above his white t-shirt. Touching the top of his t-shirt was damp jet-black shoulder length hair that shone in the afternoon sun. The way he wore his faded jeans and flip-flops made him look like a suitable model for an American Eagle advertis.e.m.e.nt.

Up close he didn't come across as the barroom brawl type I'd pegged him as this morning. But he wasn't oozing with friendliness either.

His eyes scanned me from my brown roots to my pink toenails. A small smirk crept across his face. He shifted his stance, pushing up against the p.r.i.c.kly bushes as he swung out his arm and stepped aside.

"Very gallant." I looked into his emerald green eyes as I scooted around him and sped up my pace.

He turned and continued to walk on the path in the opposite direction.

I glanced over my shoulder as he turned to look back at the same moment. A flutter welled up inside my stomach. Flushed, I shook off the sudden dizziness and weakness that washed over me.

Maybe it was good that I got the CT scan after all, because I wasn't feeling all that steady.

Chapter Five.

As my cell rang, the caller ID lit up Ken's name. I answered, "Hey babe, what's up?"

"Not much," Ken said. "What are you doing?"

"Heading home to shower. Since you told me you had to work late, Mark and I are going to grab dinner at H&K's. His treat, since I let him give me a corpse make-over."

"Do you have to spend so much time with him?" Ken asked.