Authors: Gwynne Forster

When the Sun Goes Down (11 page)

BOOK: When the Sun Goes Down

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“Of course I will. Why would I ignore my nurse’s advice?”

She smiled inwardly. This would be a bad time to leave him. She should be there working at cementing a relationship with him, but she had a feeling that her birth mother was going to need her. She always tried to keep her promises, even when she didn’t want to or when doing so proved inconvenient, like now.

She took the instructions downstairs to Mirna. “Mirna, I know he loves biscuits, pork chops, spareribs, and all the good stuff that you cook so tastefully, but please remember that he can’t have it. He has to eat like someone on a diet. I hope my mother will be all right, and I won’t need to be gone long. If it ain’t one thing, it’s another. I was just thinking of taking music lessons. You know, I always wanted to play the piano, and I couldn’t afford lessons till now. But I may have to put that on hold, like a lot of other things.”

“Everybody has to do that sometime,” Mirna said.

“I know, and I’m not complaining. I’ve got a lot more than a lot of people. It’s time he had his massage. See you later.”

At ten o’clock the next morning, she answered the door to Eric Treadwell. “Come right in, Mr. Treadwell. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

As Frieda had expected, Mirna found a reason to appear for an introduction. In her role as housekeeper, Mirna made certain that she knew what went on in that house and that no one tampered with Gunther Farrell’s property or violated his rights.

“Mrs. Jordan, this is Eric Treadwell, my birth mother’s stepson. He’s taking me to the hospital for the test. Mr. Treadwell, Mrs. Jordan is my patient’s housekeeper.”

“I’m glad to meet you, Mrs. Jordan,” Eric said, extending his hand for a handshake. “I hope we won’t have to keep Miss Davis too long.”

“Likewise, Mr. Treadwell. I’ll send up a few prayers for your mother. That usually takes care of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate your concern and your prayers.”

“We’d better be going,” Frieda said.

It didn’t please her that Edgar’s motorcycle roared up just as she got into Eric Treadwell’s Lexus. Edgar was a devil if she’d ever met one, and he’d be certain to tell Gunther that he saw her going off with a good-looking man.

“Thank you for not changing your mind,” Eric said.

“That never crossed my mind. Besides, you said it was all or nothing, depending on whether she got the bone marrow, so what did you expect, Eric? Things will probably never be perfect with your mother and me, but I still have that nice letter she wrote me, telling me she forgave me for trying to ruin her life.”

“Did you answer?” he asked, glancing sideways at her.

“Of course I did, and I promised to be there for her if she ever needed me. Strange, but from then on, I had the feeling that I was not alone. I have two wonderful adoptive sisters, but that’s not like blood relatives. Like your own mother.”

“I guess not. Will it bother you to be around Glen?”

“I don’t know. He and I used each other, but fate being what it is, I fell hard for him and he for me, and there was nothing we could do about it. I started it, singling him out because I’d learned that your stepmother had a special love for him. I thought I was seducing him, but I was really no match for his sophistication and experience. I hope he’s doing well.”

“He is, or so I think. I hope you’re both over it.”

“We’ll see. Nothing would please me more.”

“Here we are,” Eric said as he parked in the hospital’s parking lot.

“Will they let me see her?”

“Of course.” He took her arm as they walked toward the front door. “Don’t be nervous or anxious, Frieda. What will be, will be.”

“Yeah, but I feel like a pan of quivering Jell-O. Is your father here, too? I mean, are things all right between them?”

“Yes, and that was a lesson for all of us. Once her secret was out, she was happier, less secretive, and they’ve seemed to love each other more than ever. Dad’s at work now, but he’ll be here later.”

“I’m glad. After what she went through ... It just shows that you shouldn’t judge a person unless you have all the facts.” She looked up at the darkening sky, and shivers raced through her. “I sure hope this dreary weather isn’t a bad omen.”

“Be like me,” Eric said, opening the door. “I don’t believe in omens, so those clouds don’t matter to me.”

He took her to the diagnostic center and introduced her to the physician in charge. “I’ll wait out here for you,” he told her. “It will take a while.” She looked back at Eric and walked on with the doctor to the examining and testing room. The doctor started to tell her what to expect, but she interrupted him.

“I’m an LPN, Doctor, and I’ve worked in hospitals and clinics for years. I know what to expect.”

She finished the tests, stepped out of the area, and saw Eric sitting where she had left him.

“You must be starved. It’s after one o’clock,” Frieda said to him.

A half smile played around his lips. “I couldn’t eat if my life depended on it.”

She realized that he was experiencing all the fear, dread, and concern that she should have been feeling for her mother. Not that she wasn’t concerned, but no bond existed between her and Coreen Treadwell, at least not a true mother-daughter bond.

She sat beside Eric and took his hand. “Try to be positive, and when you’re near her, think positive thoughts. Attitude has a lot to do with patients surviving.”

“Thanks. If you’re hungry, I’ll get you something to eat downstairs in the cafeteria. We may be here for another three hours.”

“You stay here. I’ll go. I know the way. I used to work here.” She bought sandwiches, coffee for herself, and a container of milk and a Snickers bar for him.

“Nobody feels too bad to eat Snickers,” she told him later, and watched while he ate the candy and drank the milk.

“Could I ask you something, Frieda?”

“Go ahead. I don’t have to answer.”

“Did you feel badly because you were given up for adoption? I mean, did you personally feel unwanted?”

“No. What I felt was hatred for what I went through, but I realize now how wrong I was. Did she treat you and Glen the same? From what I saw at a distance, I thought he was her little pet.”

“She loved him more, because he was five when she married Dad. I was seven, and she thought I didn’t need her.”

“But you did.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. But I got over that. We were lucky that Dad found a woman who tried to be a good mother to his children.”

“You bet you were.”

The doctor came out, and both of them jumped to their feet. “You’re a perfect match, Ms. Davis. If you haven’t taken any painkillers for the last two weeks and there’s no alcohol in your blood, we could do this tomorrow morning. I’d rather you didn’t eat breakfast. You could stay here tonight, and we could do the transfusion at seven in the morning.”

“I think I’d prefer that. Are you using intravenous lines or a needle in the hip bone?”

“Two intravenous lines will give you much less discomfort. Mr. Treadwell, please check her in before dinnertime. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Frieda phoned Gunther. “I’m a match, sir, so they want me to stay overnight and give the bone marrow tomorrow morning. I gave Mirna instructions as to what she should do.”

“Thanks for letting me know. Mirna’s managing fine.”

What else could she say? She signed off as graciously as she could and then asked Eric if she could say hello to her birth mother.

“Of course. She doesn’t yet know that you can donate. She’ll be very happy.”

“Who’s with her? I’m not sure I—”

“Don’t worry. My wife, Star, is with her, but Glen may arrive while we’re there.”

She laid back her shoulders, stiffened her back, and looked at Eric. “Considering what I’ve been through in my life, I can stand anything.”

He put an arm around her shoulder. “Atta girl!”

They took the elevator to the third floor, and after walking down a long, gray, and uninspiring corridor, he knocked on a door that bore the name of Coreen Holmes Treadwell. Holding Frieda’s hand as if he were dragging her along, he walked straight to Coreen’s bed.

“Mom, you remember Frieda. She took the test, and she’s a perfect match.”

Coreen’s gasp didn’t surprise Frieda, but then she opened her arms to Frieda as any mother would. “God bless you, Frieda. I won’t try to thank you, because it isn’t possible.” She tried to hug Frieda, but she only managed a weak gesture and fell back against the pillows. “My, but you’re so beautiful. Bates said you look just like me, but I was never beautiful. Oh, I’m so happy that you would do this for me.”

“I’m happy that you asked me. Nothing could have kept me away.” She felt a hand on her shoulder, looked up, and saw Eric with his arm around a lovely Native American woman.

“Frieda, this is Star, my wife.”

She stood and extended her hand to Star. “I’m glad to meet you, Star. You’re the first Native American I’ve met. I’d love to talk with you sometime.”

Star hugged Frieda. “I can definitely arrange that.”

The door opened, and Bates, Coreen’s husband, walked in, followed by his younger son, Glen Treadwell.
Well,
Frieda thought to herself after they gazed at each other while the room’s remaining occupants quietly observed them,
he may still be da bomb, but I don’t itch to make him explode.
She smiled and walked over to them. “How are you, Mr. Bates, and you, Glen?” She shook hands with them both and said, “We’re in luck. I’m a perfect blood match.”

Chapter Six

Frieda wondered why the family didn’t leave and give her a chance to talk with Coreen. In her professional experience, that transfusion didn’t guarantee long life, and she might not get another chance to talk with her birth mother.

However, Coreen had other thoughts. “If you and Glen need to straighten out anything, Frieda, we’ll all excuse you. Everybody here knows what your relationship was.”

“Now, honey, this isn’t a time for you to worry about that,” her husband, Bates, said. “We’re just thankful that Frieda wants to do what she can to help. I’ve been lying awake at night praying that she’d get Eric’s messages and that she’d want to help. Whatever’s left between her and Glen can wait.” He patted Frieda’s shoulder. “Frieda, you do what you feel like doing. Nobody here’s gonna put you on the spot.”

Frieda knew she was the architect of the problem and that she should be the one to erase it. She hoped they reflected that if she hadn’t messed things up as she did, they wouldn’t have known she existed, and there’d be no one to give Coreen the bone marrow.

Straighten out your mind, girl.
She looked at Coreen. “I was hoping for a chance to talk with you.”

“That’s good,” Coreen said. “I wasn’t thinking.” She closed her eyes, and Frieda could see that the woman was exhausted. She held her head, fluffed the pillows, and adjusted them.

“We’d better put this down a little,” Frieda said, lowering the bed to a semilying position. “She’s tired.” Then Frieda turned toward Glen. “Come on, Glen, let’s go down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee.” If talking to him would make Coreen happy, she was glad to do it.

“Why did you decide to do this?” Glen asked her as they headed for the cafeteria.

“Worrying will make her worse, not better, and I don’t want her to be concerned about anything relating to me.”

“Gotcha. So there’re no hard feelings?”

“No feelings of any kind, Glen. We were both cruel, and we paid for it. I’m over it, and I pray that you are, too. It’s a lesson that I will never have to learn again.” The minute she said it, her mind flashed to her intention to seduce Gunther Farrell on the basis of Edgar’s questionable tale. Shudders shot through her and she stopped walking.

“Glen, this reminds me that God doesn’t like ugly. I’m really going to clean up my act.”

“So am I, Frieda. That drama with you proved to be too costly, but I still repeated it a few months back. I was lucky to come away from it alive.”

“Yeah,” she said, “and I was contemplating doing it again as soon as I left here.”

“But you won’t?”

“No. I need my integrity.”

“Come on, let’s get that coffee. I think I’m going to enjoy having you for a sister. In spite of what we did, some good came from it.”

After speaking with Mirna and Gunther, she checked into the hospital and went to her room. She ate the light supper, watched the evening news on television, and went to sleep, exhausted. At five the next morning, a nurse awakened her, prepped her for the transfusion, and left her. By seven-thirty, she’d done what she went there to do.

“May I go now?” she asked the doctor.

“Not yet. You have to lie down for a few hours, and you must eat, too.” They sent her back to her room.

Hours later, free to leave the hospital, Frieda got as far as the front door with Eric at her side and stopped. “You mind waiting a couple of minutes while I tell her good-bye? I want to see if she’s got any color since the transplant.”

He looked at her, sadly, Frieda thought, and said, “I’ll wait, but you shouldn’t expect a great change so soon, should you?”

“Sometimes you can. I just have to see for myself.”

“I’ll wait, Frieda, but I know you’re not saying what you’re thinking.”

She ran back to the elevator, got off at the third floor, and headed for Coreen’s room. But the closer she got, the slower she walked.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked her birth mother. She looked closely to judge Coreen’s skin and eye color. Relieved at the changes, minor though they were, she smiled her relief. “You look better already.”

“I feel a little better, too. Do you think that after this, we can at least call each other once in a while? I’d like that.”

“I would, too,” Frieda said, “and if you need me, be sure and let me know. I’m an LPN.”

“I didn’t know that. You’ve done extremely well, and I’m proud of you.”

I’m not going to get weepy here
. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. I’ll be seeing you. Don’t forget now.”

“How’d it go?” Eric asked when she returned to him.

“Good. In a way, it’s difficult, because she’s my mother. I don’t acknowledge it to her, and she can’t claim it to me. What should I call her?”

“Her name is Coreen. Lots of people call their mother by her first name. I don’t think she’d like you to call her Mrs. Treadwell.” He grasped her hand. “Come on, sis. Let’s go.”

“You got a lot to tell me,” Mirna said to Frieda when she returned to work the next morning, “and, girl, have I got a mouthful to tell you! Would you believe Mr. G came down here and put Edgar out?”

“How, for goodness’ sake? Is Edgar such a weakling that a sick man can shove him around? Mr. Farrell doesn’t have the energy for that.”

“Oh, yes, he does,” Mirna said. “He heard Edgar throwing his weight around down here and came down those stairs almost like a football player. I never saw him so mad. I tried my best to keep Edgar out, but he brushed past me and started acting out. Scared the bejeebers out of me. He won’t be back here soon. What happened to you?”

She related to Mirna as much as she wanted her to know. “I’m so excited, because I could see that it did her some good. Already that pale, sickly look was gone. One of her stepsons told me it was all right to call her by her first name. What do you think?”

“Honey, you have to play it by ear. You’ll never call her ‘Mother,’ so call her by her name.”

“He practically said the same. I’d better get up those stairs and see about Mr. Farrell.”

She knocked on his door and waited for permission to enter. Immediately she realized that she hadn’t behaved as if she were his nurse; ordinarily, she knocked and walked in.

“Come in,” he said, his voice strong and authoritative.

“I heard about you and Edgar,” she said. “Something tells me you no longer need a nurse.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to tell you. I spoke with the doctor today, and he agreed with me. How did you leave your mother?”

No point in insisting that Coreen was her mother in name only. “Hours after she got the transplant, she was already looking better. She’d lost that awful pallor. But I can see she has a long road to recovery.”

Gunther made a pyramid of his fingers, leaned back in his big oversized chair, and closed his eyes. She waited. Finally, he said, “It’s true that you’re a temp, but I believe in giving a person a fair shake. I’ll write you an excellent letter of recommendation and with pleasure, because you’re a first-class nurse. And I’ll give you your salary for the remainder of the month plus one month’s pay.”

She let out a gasp. “That’s more than fair, sir. I’m not wealthy, and I don’t need to be out of work, but it’s more than I had any right to expect. If you ever need a nurse, let me know; even if you’re flat broke, I’ll take care of you. You a first-class person, sir. If it’s all right with you, I’ll leave in the morning.”

His lips curved into a grin. “I hope I’m never flat broke, but I appreciate those sentiments.”

Frieda left the next morning and got home around noon. Walking up the steps to her fourth-floor apartment, she stopped suddenly. Gunther wasn’t interested in her. Edgar had lied through his teeth, and he’d done it to embarrass Gunther. He hadn’t considered that she, who had done nothing to him, could have been mortified and, worse, could have lost her job. “He’s an unprincipled person,” she said to herself, “and I’m glad to be away from him.”

She was about to telephone the hospital and inquire about Coreen when she remembered that, not being a relative, she’d get the standard reply:
She’s resting comfortably.
She phoned Eric and asked him.

“Hi. Thanks for calling. She’s doing great. The doctor says she can go home in a couple of days.”

Frieda thought for a second. She could look after Coreen for a month and still come out ahead. If she let the hospital at which she occasionally worked know that she was available, they’d call her in a minute, and she’d work for half of what Gunther paid her.

“I can look after her for a month. No charge. After that, she’ll need only a housekeeper for a few weeks. I know Star’s willing to help. But I’m a nurse.”

“You’d ... you’d do that?”

“Of course. And she won’t find a better nurse anywhere.”

“I believe you. I’ll tell Mom and Dad about your offer. Frieda, you’re amazing. I don’t know how to thank you.”

Gunther walked into his office for the first time in over a month, inhaled deeply, sat down at his desk, and punched the intercom. “Medford, I’m in my office. Come around here, please.”

They exchanged fist bumps, and Medford sat in the chair beside Gunther’s desk. “You look well, Gunther. I’m glad you’re back. We held the fort as well as we could, but you do it best. What’s up?”

“I’ve been working on a dilly of a game, and I know it’s one of the best I’ve ever seen anywhere.” He opened his computer, put in the DVD, and sat back to get Medford’s take on the antics of the three devilish little five-year-old boys and the reactions of their beautiful and long-suffering nurse.

Three-quarters of the way through the DVD, Medford began knocking his right fist into his left palm and moving his head and torso in a rocking motion. “Man, it’s great. It’s great. You hit it right on. This is huge!” Medford said at the end of the game. “How do we handle it?”

“I’m giving it to a major distributor, and I want you to design a cover and a video for YouTube and a trailer for the Web site. My father said I could have been wealthy if I’d taken a job on Wall Street, that my decision to start a business of developing computer games was stupid, a lazy man’s excuse for work. This would have made him eat those words.”

“Right. I’ll get to work on the promo stuff right now. You really socked it this time, Gunther.”

After Medford went back to his office, Gunther leaned back in his desk chair, musing over what he regarded as a singular achievement. He only had to get it before the public, and he’d soon be a household name. He phoned a top distributor, and one week later, Gunther Farrell Designs, Inc., had a deal certain to make its owner a rich man.

“I’d give anything if the old man could see me now,” he said to Mirna as the two of them watched the first trailer on a national TV station. Barely able to contain his excitement, he telephoned Shirley. “Wait till you see this.”

“I’ll see it day after tomorrow. My real estate agent just sold my condo. You can’t imagine how relieved I am. Some of these homes have been listed for months. The moving company is packing my stuff as we speak. How’s Frieda doing?”

He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and blew out a long breath. “I do not need a nurse, Shirley. I let Frieda go a week ago.”

“Mmm. Can I stay with you till I find a place? I’d like another condominium, but if I can’t find one, I’ll settle for a house. I’m sending my things to storage.”

“Of course, you may stay with me as long as you want to. You mean you’re moving back to Ellicott City?”

“Definitely. My boss doesn’t care as long as I’m on that cruise ship when it shoves off. He’ll have to pay my airfare to Fort Lauderdale or Orlando, but in the context of the ship’s expenses, that’s peanuts. I hope I won’t be in your way. If you have a girlfriend, you’d better warn her.”

“Not to worry. I’d kind of started something, but what with getting sick, I haven’t been able to develop it. She’s nice. Maybe I’ll call her.”

“I hope your taste changed since you got rid of Lissa. I did not like that woman.”

BOOK: When the Sun Goes Down

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