“I’m going to pump gas then get you some coffee.”
As he climbed out of the cab, he laid her back against the seat. Moments later she heard the clack of the pump handle as the gas ran through it. In one graceful leap, Puss–Puss hopped over her. Ignoring the tom-toms beating a rhythm in her brain she watched through slitted eyes as he put his paws on the window and looked out. The pump clicked. Hank put the handle back then walked to the station.
“Look, Mamma. Look at the white kitty.” A girl stood at the window, pointing at Puss–Puss. Then she let out a shriek that made Bella’s skull feel like it was going to crumble. “There’s a lady inside and she’s hurt.”
“Leigh Ann, how many times have I told you not to exaggerate?”
“But, Mamma, look for yourself.”
“I’m not going to go poking around someone else’s vehicle.”
Thank goodness, the young girl was prone to exaggeration, Bella thought, closing her eyes as the voices grew fainter.
Before she knew it the cab door opened, bringing with it the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. Hank must have noticed her wince as the dome light came on because he set the cup in a holder, eased himself in and said, “Let’s get out from under these bright lights and see if you can handle a sip or two of this.”
He turned the engine on and drove around to the side of the building. “I’m going to lift you up, Bella.” As gently as if he were lifting a butterfly, he leaned her against his wide shoulder. “I picked up some Goody’s,” he said referring to powdered aspirin, “and sprinkled it in your coffee. Never heard of it in Wisconsin but seems to be all the rage in the South and it’ll be easier than trying to get you to swallow a pill.”
As he held the cup in his big, solid hand, she took a sip then another, feeling like she could cry of happiness as the strong, hot liquid laced with the bitter bite of aspirin ran down her throat. “My brain,” she began then paused, forgetting what she’d been about to say.
“Yes,” he prodded.
“Floating in cerebrospinal fluid, scrambled,” she slurred.
“Cerebrospinal fluid, you say? Fancy you knowing that. Don’t tell me you were on your way to med school when you had an epiphany and decided to become an artist.”
Her eyes crossed and her vision blurred. “Fancy you…” Again her voice trailed off.
He gave her a light nudge. “Fancy you what?”
“Knowing what epiphany means. You think I’m a dumb blonde?” Her head wobbled and her words slurred.
“I think you are too smart for your own good. You think I’m just a dumb ranch hand?” Laughter sang through his voice.
She started to make a denial but on the third tentative sip of coffee nausea bubbled in her throat and her stomach roiled. She managed to swallow down the coffee that was doing its best to come back up. Oh yeah, she’d scrambled her brain, all right.
With a weak mew she pushed against Hank’s hand and motioned back the offending liquid then scooted back down on his lap.
“Interesting position,” she mumbled and had the satisfaction of feeling his body jump against her.
“I believe you are going to live,” he said, his voice dry with relief.
Puss–Puss curled back up beside her and began to purr, a deep rumbling vibration of sound. If she didn’t feel a step away from death, she’d be as cozy as hushpuppies on a catfish platter. The warm body of her cat curled up against her and nestled in the lap of her man. No, that wasn’t right. Hank McHenry wasn’t her man. Even if it felt like he should be.
Lulled by a sense of security stronger than the pounding in her head and the ache in her body she drifted into sleep. She didn’t wake again until the truck engine was killed and the bright dome light cut through the cover of her eyelids.
* * * * *
Victor paced his cell back and forth, back and forth. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, leaving it standing on end. Incompetence. Everywhere he turned
As he climbed out of the cab, he laid her back against the seat. Moments later she heard the clack of the pump handle as the gas ran through it. In one graceful leap, Puss–Puss hopped over her. Ignoring the tom-toms beating a rhythm in her brain she watched through slitted eyes as he put his paws on the window and looked out. The pump clicked. Hank put the handle back then walked to the station.
“Look, Mamma. Look at the white kitty.” A girl stood at the window, pointing at Puss–Puss. Then she let out a shriek that made Bella’s skull feel like it was going to crumble. “There’s a lady inside and she’s hurt.”
“Leigh Ann, how many times have I told you not to exaggerate?”
“But, Mamma, look for yourself.”
“I’m not going to go poking around someone else’s vehicle.”
Thank goodness, the young girl was prone to exaggeration, Bella thought, closing her eyes as the voices grew fainter.
Before she knew it the cab door opened, bringing with it the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. Hank must have noticed her wince as the dome light came on because he set the cup in a holder, eased himself in and said, “Let’s get out from under these bright lights and see if you can handle a sip or two of this.”
He turned the engine on and drove around to the side of the building. “I’m going to lift you up, Bella.” As gently as if he were lifting a butterfly, he leaned her against his wide shoulder. “I picked up some Goody’s,” he said referring to powdered aspirin, “and sprinkled it in your coffee. Never heard of it in Wisconsin but seems to be all the rage in the South and it’ll be easier than trying to get you to swallow a pill.”
As he held the cup in his big, solid hand, she took a sip then another, feeling like she could cry of happiness as the strong, hot liquid laced with the bitter bite of aspirin ran down her throat. “My brain,” she began then paused, forgetting what she’d been about to say.
“Yes,” he prodded.
“Floating in cerebrospinal fluid, scrambled,” she slurred.
“Cerebrospinal fluid, you say? Fancy you knowing that. Don’t tell me you were on your way to med school when you had an epiphany and decided to become an artist.”
Her eyes crossed and her vision blurred. “Fancy you…” Again her voice trailed off.
He gave her a light nudge. “Fancy you what?”
“Knowing what epiphany means. You think I’m a dumb blonde?” Her head wobbled and her words slurred.
“I think you are too smart for your own good. You think I’m just a dumb ranch hand?” Laughter sang through his voice.
She started to make a denial but on the third tentative sip of coffee nausea bubbled in her throat and her stomach roiled. She managed to swallow down the coffee that was doing its best to come back up. Oh yeah, she’d scrambled her brain, all right.
With a weak mew she pushed against Hank’s hand and motioned back the offending liquid then scooted back down on his lap.
“Interesting position,” she mumbled and had the satisfaction of feeling his body jump against her.
“I believe you are going to live,” he said, his voice dry with relief.
Puss–Puss curled back up beside her and began to purr, a deep rumbling vibration of sound. If she didn’t feel a step away from death, she’d be as cozy as hushpuppies on a catfish platter. The warm body of her cat curled up against her and nestled in the lap of her man. No, that wasn’t right. Hank McHenry wasn’t her man. Even if it felt like he should be.
Lulled by a sense of security stronger than the pounding in her head and the ache in her body she drifted into sleep. She didn’t wake again until the truck engine was killed and the bright dome light cut through the cover of her eyelids.
* * * * *
Victor paced his cell back and forth, back and forth. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, leaving it standing on end. Incompetence. Everywhere he turned
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