Deliver Me (9 page)

Jeffrey nearly broke down in the middle of the grocery store.

God, he missed his wife.

How could two people who had been so crazy in love get to where they were
now? They barely spoke. Hell, Amanda could hardly look at him most of the time.
How could they have allowed this to happen? How could it have gotten this bad?

Jeffrey stopped the self-deprecation and forced himself to get back to
his game plan. Tonight was about wooing Amanda. He wouldn’t think about the
downward trend of his marriage over this last year and a half. He still loved
her. They had a baby on the way.

His marriage was
not
over.

When Jeffrey arrived home, Amanda’s car was parked in the driveway. It
felt good just seeing it in its usual spot again. It felt glorious having her
back home. And it was hell on Earth.

As much as Jeffrey had wanted her here, he was beginning to regret ever
making the suggestion. Because it just wasn’t the same.

It pained him to no end to walk into their old bedroom and not see her
lying in the bed they’d shared for so many years. He’d offered to take the
spare room, just to have the chance to see her on their bed.

But Amanda refused. She’d flinched when he had mentioned it, as if she
couldn’t stomach the sight of the place where they had expressed their love in
the most primitive of ways.

Jeffrey opened the door, expecting to find her on the sofa in the den. It’s
where she spent most of her time, probably because it was the farthest room
from their old bedroom.

He was right. She was curled up on the end of the tan and green-striped
couch, her feet tucked under her.

“Good evening,” Jeffrey said.

She turned her attention from whatever she was watching on television and
stared at him. After a long moment, she answered with a soft, “Hello.”

It was the first time in months she had addressed him without that tired,
cynical drawl; had looked at him without scorn.

Jeffrey balanced the grocery bags in his hands and kicked the door closed
with his foot.

“I thought you had class tonight?” he asked. He knew she was on a Tuesday
and Thursday night schedule this semester.

She stared at him, not saying anything, and Jeffrey’s good mood
plummeted. He was hoping, for once, they could have a civil conversation, like
a husband and wife were supposed to have at the end of a long day.

“I pulled out of school weeks ago,” she finally answered. “It was too
much for me to handle right now.”

It took all he had not to shout for joy. Ever since Amanda started having
the dizzy spells, Jeffrey had been scared to death that she would pass out
while heading to class, but he’d been afraid to voice his opinion. Knowing
Amanda, she would have continued attending the night courses just to spite him.
But she had made the decision to stop on her own, and God, was he grateful. It
was one less thing to worry about.

Jeffrey felt a twinge of guilt. He should be at least a little
remorseful. Earning a degree in Social Work and becoming a child advocate had
been Amanda’s dream. She wanted to be a voice for those too little to speak up
for themselves.
 
Expensive fertility
treatments had made college out of the question until one day when Jeffrey had
just said screw it. He’d taken on a second job in order to pay for Amanda’s
education. After losing a semester due to Hurricane Katrina, it was no doubt
killing her to have to put school on hold yet again.
 

“Do you plan on starting back next fall?” he asked.

She shrugged.

Jeffrey went over to the kitchen and deposited the bags on the counter.
Dinner could wait. After all, he’d accomplished what he had sought to achieve
with his gourmet meal.

His wife was speaking to him again.

He walked back into the den and took a seat on the armchair.

“How are you feeling today?” Jeffrey asked, mentally crossing his fingers
that his question didn’t set her off. She didn’t take too kindly to his
inquiring about the baby, but he wanted to know. He’d suffered through the same
hell she had all those years as they struggled to get pregnant, and then last
year’s miscarriage. He wanted this baby just as much as she did, and he
deserved to know what was going on with her pregnancy.

“The nausea’s been more bothersome than usual,” she answered. She looked
over at him. “It used to be just in the morning, but for the past few days, it
hasn’t been going away.”

Concern skirted up Jeffrey’s spine. “Do you need to see Dr. Holmes?”

“I doubt it. All the pregnancy books say it’s not unusual.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Jeffrey,” she said, a hint of aggravation in her voice. Then
it softened. “Don’t worry. If it gets too bad I’ll go and see the doctor.”

“Promise you’ll let me know.”

“Why?”

“I want to be there, Amanda.”

She stared at him, a solemn, sorrowful expression crowding her eyes.

“But for how long, Jeffrey?”

She unfolded her legs and rose from the couch, leaving him with the same
question that had plagued him for the last year and a half.

What had gone wrong?

***

To say the culinary selections in Methodist Memorial’s cafeteria were
lacking was a definite understatement.

Monica pulled a bowl of lime Jell-O from under the Plexiglas shield and
placed it on her tray. She filled a plastic cup with ice from the dispenser and
opted for Diet Coke. The caffeine would be a blessed gift.

Monica debated whether or not to get two glasses of soda. After yesterday’s
bombshell about the fundraising, she’d had the hardest time falling asleep, and
now she was dead on her feet. All she could think about was the banquet, and
how it could be her foot in the door...or a nail in her coffin. But there was
no way she would allow that to happen.

She wanted to show that she had more to offer than just being a stellar
ER physician. This was her chance to prove what she could do
outside
of the emergency room. And if
she could save a vital program to the community in the process...well, that was
just the chocolate icing on a very sweet cake.

The only sour part of the deal would be working with Dr. Pessimistic.

“Want to know why most of these tables are empty?”

Speak of the devil.

Monica nearly dropped her tray. Eli had come from out of nowhere,
sneaking up behind her like some thief in the night. She had to take several
quick breaths before she could speak. The scent of his subtle cologne wafted
through her nostrils, spurring a sudden burst of wanting. When her heart returned
to a normal rhythm, Monica turned.

“You must get a secret thrill from scaring the living daylights out of
people?” Her voice came out more calm than she’d expected. Good. She didn’t
want him catching on to the fact that he could fluster her. Lord knows he
could.

“I apologize,” he said. “My intention wasn’t to frighten, but to inform.
Most of the people who work here eat at Ethel’s, the little shop across the
street. At least, those of us who have taste buds do. They sell a good roast
beef po’boy.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Thus, why I am here right now, telling you,” he said with a bow, as if
he were a faithful servant and she, a queen.

Monica looked down at the Jell-O and cold pasta salad that had seemed the
lesser of two culinary evils.

“I’ve already paid for this,” she said with a hint of sadness.

“Well, now that you know about Ethel’s, you can make this your last meal
at the Heartburn Café.” He leaned over and whispered conspiringly, “Hopefully,
you won’t learn firsthand how it got the nickname.”

Monica smirked and headed for one of the many empty tables. Eli followed.
Somehow, she knew he would.

He pulled out her seat and took the tray from her hands, then placed her
pasta, Jell-O, and soda on the table. He walked to the trash bin and slid the
tray in the collection crate on top, then came back to her table.

He sat, folded his hands together on the tabletop and asked, “So, were
you born and raised in St. Louis, or did you move there?”

Monica looked up from the pasta she hadn’t yet summoned the courage to
taste. “How did you know I was from St. Louis?” she asked. “I only mentioned
that I worked for the state of Missouri. I never specified a city.”

He shrugged. “I heard it from someone. This is the South. Don’t think you’re
gonna just walk right in here and not be talked about.”

“People are gossiping about me?”

“Not in a bad way. You’re new. People are going to talk these first few
days. It’s unavoidable. So, St. Louis native?”

Monica tried to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of answering his
question. How much did she want this man to know about her? Though there couldn’t
be all that much harm in knowing what city she grew up in, could there?

Besides, if the rumor mill were as active as he claimed it to be, he’d
probably find out whatever he wanted to know by the day’s end.

“I was born in Kansas City, but we moved to St. Louis when I was five. I’ve
lived there ever since.”

“We?”

“My family and I.”

He made a circular motion with his hands, urging her on.

“What?” Monica asked.

“That’s it?” Eli asked. “Just ‘my family and I’? Do you have sisters and
brothers, cousins, an old Aunt Dot you keep hidden in the back room?”

Monica stuffed her mouth with pasta to keep from smiling. She had to get
rid of him fast. She could not deal with drop dead gorgeous, a good job,
and
a sense of humor.

“So?” he asked.

Despite her efforts to remain unaffected, Monica couldn’t stifle the
amusement that tipped up the corners of her mouth. “An older brother, a younger
sister, and two parents.”

“Any nieces or nephews?”

She shook her head.

Monica washed down the tasteless food with a swig of Diet Coke. “So, is
there a reason you want to know this, Dr. Holmes?” she asked, dabbing her mouth
with a paper napkin.

Another shrug. “Making conversation. Trying to show a little interest in
a new colleague. And,” he continued, not quite looking at her. “I wanted to
apologize for yesterday.” He met her gaze. “I’ve put a lot of blood, sweat, and
tears into that center. Slessinger caught me off guard with the news that they’re
going to shut it down.”

“Closing the Parenting Center is not a guarantee.”

He shook his head. “In a normal year the banquet brings in enough to
provide first aid kits to senior citizens and maybe a few bikes at
Christmastime to the local kids. And right now the people around here are
already strapped. There’s no way we can raise enough to keep the Parenting
Center afloat.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “Could you give this just a small chance? You’re
shooting the entire project down without even trying.”

“The banquet would have to pull in, at the very least, three times more
than we’ve ever raised. And that’s if we want even a laughable chance at
keeping the Parenting Center open.”

“I thought that was the point of bringing us together, so we could come
up with some ideas.”

“The best I can tell you is to find a lamp and hope like hell a genie
pops out when you rub it.”

“Nice attitude, Doctor.” Monica jammed her fork into a piece of celery
and stuffed it in her mouth.

He looked at her with a hint of mocking laughter in his eyes. “You didn’t
strike me as an idealist. I always thought ER docs were more grounded.”

“I’m assuming you meant that as an insult, because I’m taking it as one.”

Monica wiped her mouth and tossed the napkin over the barely eaten pasta.
She stacked the bowl of Jell-O on top, picked up both dishes and her empty cup,
and rose from the table. Elijah rose, too.

“Again, Dr. Gardner, I’m sorry. My mood today has definitely been less
than ideal. I don’t mean to take it out on you.” He tried to relieve her of the
bowls, but Monica pulled her hands away.

“At least let me gain back some of my dignity by being a gentleman.”

She edged past him. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

He stopped her forward movement with a hand to her shoulder and plucked
the bowls from her hands. “This is the South,” he said. “I would be a disgrace
to my forefathers if I did not assist you.”

“It’s also the twenty-first century.”

His smile was more genuine this time. “Indulge me,” he said, his voice
softer than it had been a minute ago.

Monica followed him to the trash receptacles where he deposited the
plastic containers.

“Why don’t you indulge
me
for a
minute,” Monica said. “I understand your concern about the Parenting Center,
you’ve worked hard for it, and you’re upset. That’s perfectly understandable.
But I truly believe if we try hard enough, we can come up with something
viable.”