A Baby In The House

“Does that mean you and Roy have split up again? The last time I was in you told me you were giving him one more last chance to make things work.”

“I did and that was a mistake.”

“It didn’t work out?”

She chuckled sardonically as she reached for a comb. “It lasted all of three days. I wanted to believe that serving in the military had changed him. I was wrong.”

“You don’t sound brokenhearted over it,” Angie observed.

“Because I’m not.” It was the truth. Looking back now she could see how foolish she’d been when it came to her relationship with Roy, seeing only what she wanted to see. She’d wasted her time trying to recycle an old love—only it hadn’t even been love, just a misplaced devotion. She wished it hadn’t taken her so long to realize that.

“I suppose you’ve already found one…or two…or three guys to take his place,” she said with a sly grin.

“Uh-uh. My juggling days are in the past. Gone for good,” Krystal said on a note of finality.

“You’re kidding!” Wide eyes met hers in the mirror. “You are like the queen of the dating scene.”

“Not anymore I’m not. I need a break from dating.”

“You and me both,” she seconded, then went on to lament the lack of decent men in their age group, concluding with the statement that life would be less complicated without men.

Krystal knew that her life certainly would be if she hadn’t let one particular man into it. When she’d finished styling her client’s hair, she handed her a mirror. “What do you think?”

“It looks fabulous.” As she climbed out of the chair, she pulled a folded ten-dollar bill from her pocket and gave it to Krystal. “Thank you so much for the great cut.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

“Oh, I do. And I appreciate you letting me whine about guys,” she said as she straightened her skirt.

“Hey—we all need to do it now and then,” Krystal told her.

“Yes, we do, and especially with someone who understands what it’s like out there in the dating world. You, Krystal, are one smart lady when it comes to men,” she told her, then, with a grateful wave goodbye, headed for the front desk.

A few minutes later one of Krystal’s co-workers approached her with her lunch—an order of take-out barbecue ribs. “Want some? I’ll share.” She held up the package invitingly.

The aroma hit Krystal the way heat blasted her face when she stepped outside from cool air-conditioning, causing her stomach to revolt. She uttered, “No, thanks,” then bolted for the bathroom. She barely managed to get there before she was sick.

As she washed up at the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and thought, Oh yeah, I’m real smart when it comes to men. She clicked her tongue in disgust, dried her hands and went back to work.

GARRET WAS TIRED. He’d spent most of the night at the hospital with a patient and after only a few hours of sleep on a cot in the doctors’ lounge, he’d had to make his morning rounds, fill out a mountain of paperwork and attend a staff meeting. Now he’d promised one of the nurses at the clinic that he’d stop in and check on her mother who was a patient in a nursing home.

Garret knew that if Dolly Anderson still lived in her house on the east side of St. Paul, she’d be outside in her large floppy hat tending her vegetables. But at eighty-nine, a broken hip had marked the end of her days as a home owner and landed her in the nursing home not far from her old neighborhood. Although her bones had healed, she’d never regained the strength and agility to return home. That hadn’t stopped her from gardening, however.

When Garret arrived at the nursing home, he found her outdoors tending to the plants on the tiny patio outside her room. One hand rested on a cane helping her stand, the other clutched a plastic watering can.

“Got any pumpkins in that patch?” he called out as he made his way across the lawn toward her.

She looked up at him. “It’s a good thing you’re a brilliant doctor. You’d stink as a farmer. Pumpkins need room to spread.” As he drew closer she added, “You look tired. You’d better go easy on the women for a while and catch up on your sleep.” She gave him a crooked grin.

“Oh, Dolly, you ought to know you’re the only one for me.” He’d never been much for flirting with women, but with her he couldn’t resist. “How come you’re not wearing your sun hat?”

“Don’t want to mess up my hair.” She turned back to watering her plants. “Just had it styled. I always get it done on Tuesdays.”

He didn’t correct her and tell her it was Wednesday.

“What brings you here?” she wanted to know.

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop and see how you’re doing.”

She slanted a look at him. “Liar. I know Mavis called you.”

He didn’t deny the accusation. “She’s worried you might have a cold.”

She harrumphed. “Can you believe it? My daughter is fifty-nine years old and she still doesn’t know the difference between a cold and allergies. If I cough, it’s because the pollen count is high. It tickles my throat. It’s been that way ever since I was a child.”

“That’s why I told you to stay inside in air-conditioning this time of the year,” he said with a gentle wag of his finger.

“Can’t. Have to take care of my garden.”

The garden to which she referred was comprised of large pots holding a variety of vegetable plants on her patio. To his amazement, she had cherry tomatoes, radishes, green peppers and even a bean plant, which she’d staked with a yardstick.

“Don’t they feed you here?” he asked.

“Of course they do. That isn’t why I have my vegetables and you know it,” she scolded him.

Yes, he did. On more than one occasion she’d told him that she’d planted her first garden during World War II when Americans were encouraged to grow their own vegetables as a sign of support for the troops. When her husband had been killed in the war, she’d decided to continue the tradition in honor of his memory. She’d been planting her victory garden for over sixty years.

“I brought you something,” he told her.

“Not more pills to swallow, I hope.”

“No, something sweet.”

That had her setting her watering can down and giving her attention to him. “Ooh. Gingersnaps,” she cooed, when he pulled a box of cookies from his bag and handed them to her. “What do I have to do for them? Take off my clothes?”

He saw the twinkle in her eye and smiled. “You know me well, Dolly.” Not many of his patients did, but he had a soft spot for this octogenarian with her sharp mind and keen wit.

“You’re not going to take my word for it that it’s only the pollen, are you, Dr. G.?”

“I’d like to, but I’m afraid if I don’t give you a clean bill of health, Mavis won’t get any sleep tonight. How about it? Should we put her mind at rest?”

She hesitated momentarily, then said, “All right. To please Mavis.” She moved slowly but with a gracefulness few women her age possessed. He slid open the patio door for her and followed her inside.

“You’re not going to make me get back into bed, are you? Once I’m up and dressed, I don’t like to even look at that thing,” she told him with a wave of her hand in the direction of her bed. “Someone around here is always trying to get me to nap. I’m not a nap person. Never was, never will be.”

He patted the leather chair. “How about sitting right here.”

Sitting had never been easy for someone as active as Dolly and today was no different than any other time he’d visited her. She squirmed and fidgeted, but he managed to complete the exam and was relieved when he found there was no cause for alarm.