Authors: Mona Ingram
“Why Rhett, whatever are you suggesting?” She looked up at him, batted her eyelashes.
“Well, Miss Scarlett. I was hoping you’d follow up on your threat of seducing me.”
“It wasn’t a threat, Jason.” She turned suddenly serious. “But I don’t want our story to be like Scarlett and Rhett’s.” She placed a hand on his heart. “I don’t want the fairy tale; I want something real. Something that’s going to last forever.”
He covered her hand with his. “Do you have any idea how much I love you, Charlie Mitchell?”
“About as much as I love you,” she said, smiling into his eyes. “But I was hoping you’d show me.”
He led her into the house. “It would be my pleasure. Now and every day for the rest of our lives.”
* * * The End * * *
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Fallen Angel
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Here’s a preview of
Fallen Angel
Laura didn’t need an intervention to know she had problems, which was why she was doubly surprised when she walked into her grandmother’s house and saw all the people who, for whatever reason, still loved her.
Time seemed to stand still. With one hand on the screen door and the other clutching the door frame, she contemplated turning around and leaving. At least long enough to down another pill. For one irrational moment she was thankful that she’d showered and washed her hair this morning. As if that meant they’d go easy on her. But that wasn’t going to happen; she could see from the five determined pairs of eyes that no one here was going to cut her any slack. That’s the way it worked, wasn’t it...on those television shows? Her throat went dry and she looked at her grandmother, who was seated next to her father on the couch.
“Could I get something to drink, please?” She gave a weak smile. “Diet Coke if you have any, Gran.” She started to make her way toward the kitchen but Jenna, her friend since childhood, jumped up. “I’ll get it.”
They’re probably afraid I’ll make a run for it out the back door
, she thought to herself. And they may be right. The shock was beginning to wear off, and she took in the two remaining people in the group. Rachel Ellison, the head nurse from St. Mark’s and a woman she didn’t recognize.
The woman stood up and motioned for Laura to sit down in the big chair in the corner. Laura almost giggled; it reminded her of a wedding shower where the bride-to-be was the center of attention.
The woman extended her hand and Laura shook it. “My name is Myrna Hyslop. I’m an intervention specialist and I’m here to help your friends and family.”
Jenna came back into the room. Ice cubes clinked in a tall glass and she held a can of coke in the other hand. She placed both items on the table beside Laura and gave her friend a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Love you,” she murmured, then went back to the other side of the room and sat down.
Laura poured half of the coke with a trembling hand and took a deep swallow. It tasted great, but what she’d really like is another oxycodone to go with it. She tried to remember when she’d taken the last one, but her memory was fuzzy. She set the glass back down, frowning with the effort of concentration. Her memory was deserting her frequently these days, and she didn’t like it.
There were times, like right now, when she couldn’t even remember what had sent her down this path to self-destruction. But then the memories would come flooding back and she’d feel herself falling even deeper, if that was possible, into the black void that was currently her life.
She forced herself to look at the people gathered in her grandmother’s living room. Her father, divorced from her mother for ten years now. Always there for her. It was her father who’d supported her when she announced her decision to become a nurse. He was the best, and she’d been genuinely delighted for him when he told her a few weeks ago that he’d found a woman to share the rest of his life with. She couldn’t remember the woman’s name right now, but her father was happy and that’s all that mattered.
Next to her father was her Gran. As long as she could remember, a stable force in her life and a source of unconditional love. As a child, Laura had spent at least two weeks a year here at her grandmother’s house in the Shaughnessy district of Vancouver. Those had been some of the happiest times of her life.
Rachel Ellison. Head Nurse at the hospital, and her supervisor. It was only a little over a month since Laura had fallen at work and broken her arm. The cast had come off two days ago and she massaged her arm, trying once more to recall what had precipitated that fall. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t remember that either. At least she’d done one thing right. She’d stashed away a supply of oxycodone before the accident. The doctor wouldn’t prescribe any pain meds for her after the fall, informing her that a broken arm didn’t warrant anything more than Tylenol, and besides a stronger pain killer could prove addictive. She’d almost laughed out loud at that, but had managed to nod in solemn agreement.
Jenna Harkness. Her closest friend since childhood. They’d grown up together in Quesnel, had done volunteer work at the local hospital, and had shared everything. Even after Laura had gone to Vancouver for her nurses’ training, they’d remained close. Laura had been there when Jenna and Drew got married, and had rushed to see each of her children only days after their birth. Her friend’s eyes were all shimmery with tears, and she wondered if Jenna was about to tell her that she was no longer Godmother to Hayley and Mark. The idea was insupportable, and for the first time she felt real fear.
“...which is why your family and friends are here for you today.” The intervention specialist was speaking but Laura hadn’t heard a word. What was her name again? She turned toward the other woman, hoping that her expression didn’t reveal what she was thinking. That she didn’t really need her help. Her family were wonderful to be so caring, but her current state was only temporary. She’d be back up to speed any time now.
She took another drink, playing for time. She’d come to love the sound of ice cubes recently. They signalled good times ahead. She frowned again. At least they were
supposed
to be good times, but in recent weeks she’d often wake up in the morning not remembering what had happened after the third or fourth drink in her favourite bar. She stared into the bottom of the glass. She’d better cut back on the drinking, or she wouldn’t be in any shape to go back to work.
She looked at the faces around the room and put on a conciliatory smile. “I’ve been drinking too much” she said, nodding as she spoke to let them know she accepted the seriousness of her problem. “And I promise to cut back right away.”
Nobody responded. They didn’t have to; it was clear that they didn’t believe a word of what she said. This was going to be tougher than she thought.
“Okay, you’re right. I won’t just ‘cut back’. I’ll stop drinking completely.” She tried another smile and held up the arm that had been broken, flexing her fingers as she spoke. “I’ll be fit for work soon and I need all my senses for that.” She looked directly at her supervisor, who was looking at her oddly. “Rachel knows what I mean, right?”
The Head Nurse looked at the intervention specialist who nodded, then turned her attention back to Laura. “You’re not coming back to work. I’m sorry, Laura, but I can’t afford to have you back on the floors.” She gave her head a little shake. “I’d planned to talk to you the day you had your accident. In retrospect, I should have realized what was going on, but it never crossed my mind that you had a substance abuse problem. You were skating on thin ice then, but now you’ve gone right over the edge.”
Laura wanted to tell her she was mixing her metaphors, but something held her back. “How can you possibly say that? I haven’t seen you since I got the cast on.” Her tone was getting desperate, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m much better now.”
For the first time she saw something like pity in Rachel’s eyes. “Laura, we saw each other a couple of weeks ago, at the staff picnic. You don’t remember?”
“Come on, Rachel. Stop kidding.” She glanced around at the others in the room. They were all looking at her gravely and her world seemed to tilt. She looked back at her supervisor and when she spoke her voice was little more than a whisper. “I don’t remember.”
“You were pretty high when you got there, so I’m not surprised.”
Laura didn’t intend to give up without a fight. “Come on, Rach, everybody has too much to drink once in a while; it’s how we blow off steam. You know that.”
“Your drinking is only part of your problems. It wasn’t until I discussed the situation with Dr. Rowland that I started to put the pieces together. He told me that you’d been taking various forms of oxycodone for a couple of months before you broke your arm.”
“And you believed Stew?” Laura was incensed. “He’s the one who gave it to me in the first place.”
She closed her eyes, dropped her head. She wanted to snatch the words back, but it was too late. Her first instinct was to blame Rachel for tricking her, but that lasted only a second. It wasn’t Rachel’s fault she’d become addicted. It wasn’t even Stew’s fault, much as she’d like to share the blame. She was an RN, for God’s sake; she’d known the consequences of self-medicating with oxycodone long before he suggested that she take one to help her get through the bleak days after Mattie died.
They all spoke after that. Her father, her grandmother, and finally her friend Jenna. Ashamed and resentful at the same time, she heard very little of what they had to say. She knew they loved her and wanted to help her, but what right did they have to interfere in her life? It wasn’t until Jenna spoke of her children that she raised her head and actively listened to her friend.
“I’m not giving up on you, Laura. You’re Godmother to my children, and I need you to be in their lives. What if something should happen to Drew and me, God forbid? You promised to take care of them, and I need you to be well. Please say you’ll go.”
Go where?
Laura wondered. Either they hadn’t discussed that part, or she hadn’t been listening. But did it matter? Not really. She knew what was in store for her; the location was the least of her concerns.
She knew better than to ask if she could go home. After brief but tearful goodbyes, the Hyslop woman bundled her into a large SUV and pulled out into traffic.
Laura was silent for the first half hour, watching downtown Vancouver slide by outside the window. “Where are we going?” she asked eventually, as they crossed the Lions Gate Bridge.
“Please call me Myrna”, the woman said with a thin smile. “We’re going to Vancouver Island. There’s an excellent rehab center not far from Nanaimo, so we’ll be crossing from Horseshoe Bay.” She seemed remarkably upbeat. “I always enjoy the ferry crossing.”
Laura remained silent for several moments. “What about my apartment?” she asked finally. She hoped it wasn’t too much of a mess.
“Your father’s going to take care of that for you.”
Laura absorbed this information with a silent nod. She twirled a piece of hair around her finger and rubbed it against her lips. It was a gesture she used to make to calm herself when she heard her parents arguing, or when her mother had been particularly vile toward her. She dropped the piece of hair and glanced sideways to see if Myrna had noticed, but the woman was manoeuvring through traffic, approaching Highway 1.
“What about clothes, toothbrush, stuff like that? And who’s paying for all this?” Laura hadn’t meant to sound belligerent, but the words came out that way.