Sleeping Beauty (17 page)

Ill have Suze give me directions to the theater, Darla assured him. Im really looking forward to it. Whats that thing?

I turned to see what she was staring at. It was the enormous rat Charley had put on my cherrywood table.

Its just Mr. Snickers. I brought him over so Suze could take care of him for two weeks.

I closed my eyes and waited for the explosion.

Darlas scream burst one of my eardrums and permanently deafened me in the other ear. Charley, who didnt have time to prepare, fell backward against the wall, his eyes wide with horror.

Its just a rat.

Just a rat? I hate rats! How could you bring him into this house? Get him out, get him out! Darla glared at Charley. And you get out, too! Rats. I never dreamed youd have anything to do with rats!

She disappeared into the bedroom while I consoled Charley.

Shes never going to speak to me again, is she? Charley said weakly.

Its doubtful.

Rats, I thought maybe something could come of this. Charley shoved his hands into his coat pockets and left, his shoulders hunched and dejected. Even his Mohawk seemed to droop a little. But he left the cage behind.

Rats is right, I thought as I shut the door.

I leaned against it and closed my eyes.

Well, that went well . Not.

I will never look for a job as a matchmaker, that I know for sure.

I think I must be crazy. Why am I doing this to myself?

I stared into my bathroom mirror. I had eyeliner and mascara on one eye but not the other and looked as unbalanced as I felt. It had taken longer than Id planned to take the boys to the sitter and now I was running at least twenty minutes behind. This was not how I had planned my entrance. Quickly, I finished my other eye, swept on some blush and a little lip gloss, grabbed my purse and hurried out the door.

Its just a visit. I havent committed to anything. Im in charge. I kept muttering assurances to myself all the way to Davids clinic. I parked in the lot of an impressive stucco-and-stone building with the clinic logo on the tasteful sign outside.

Why I was doing this I wasnt sure. I didnt want it to be about David. I needed to be doing this for myself.

Ill give it one last chance, I muttered as I pushed open the front door. And thats it. If this doesnt work, the next thing Ill do is hire a keeper.

The receptionist greeted me as if I were a long-lost sister and had me fill out several pages of forms before saying, Dr. Grant is in if youd like to see him. If not, he told me to tell you hed be in his office when you got done with your appointment. She looked at me as though I must have miraculous powers to get so much of her bosss time and attention. I was a little curious about it myself.

Do I have time to say hello?

Yes. Dr. Fielding will be with you in about fifteen minutes. Come this way. She led me to the back of the clinic to a suite of offices, knocked on a door, opened it and gestured me in.

Suze, you came. David stood up behind his massive mahogany desk and walked around it to greet me. He wore a dark suit, white shirt and bold red tie, the epitome of power dressing. The pleasure and relief in his expression was, I must admit, heartwarming.

Did you think I wouldnt?

Frankly, I wasnt sure. I thought perhaps youd send me an e-mail saying, Mind your own business and never speak to me again.

Then why did you do it? I sat down in the chair he indicated.

He retreated again to the chair behind his desk, sat down and tented his hands together. Because I felt it was worth a shot. I was willing to risk your friendship for the sake of your getting some help.

Of all the things I expected him to say, it wasnt that.

Before I could speak, a nurse rapped on the door and announced that Dr. Fielding was ready to see me. David slid a piece of paper across the desk to me.

Lunch at the Lagoon after your appointment. Meet me?

I nodded. I wouldnt miss it for the world.

I found him in a booth at the back, private and set apart from the flow of traffic. Just as I arrived, a waitress brought a plate of appetizers and a pot of green tea to the table.

Perfect timing, David greeted me. Egg roll?

I sank onto the bench across from his. You must know exactly how long these appointments take to have timed the order so perfectly.

There are rumors that I run the clinic like clockwork. Maybe its true.

Most definitely. It ran as smoothly as a door with well-oiled hinges. As determined as I was not to be impressed, I couldnt help it. That faint flicker of hope that I could beat this thing had been fanned again.

How did you like John Fielding? David dished up a plate for me and I didnt protest.

Great. Hes smart, funny and seems to know his business. I patted my purse. And he sent me home with the same old list of instructions. Exercise regularly, avoid caffeine, use a comfortable mattress, blah, blah, blah.

Youre a pro at this, I know, but give him a chance. He knows his stuff. Forty million people have chronic sleep disorders, another twenty million have occasional problems and there are more than eighty different disorders. Hes seen plenty of them in his office.

You must be very busy at your clinic then.

He laughed. Busy enough. But enough shop talk. How are the boys?

Wait a minute. I stopped eating midegg roll. Arent you going to ask me any questions?

No. Im not your doctor. Medical things stay between you and Dr. Fielding unless you want to discuss them.

The man could be a psychologist. He knew perfectly well that I was bursting with questions and now he didnt want to talk about it! Instead he was calmly ordering pork fried rice to go with our meal.

Youre the man who is writing a book. Dont you have anything to say?

Did you know that dolphins would drown if they fell asleep? They need to be awake to control their breathing.

Then why are there any dolphins left?

They have the ability to sleep one hemisphere of the brain at a time.

So they can somehow be awake and asleep at the same time? I pondered the thought for a minute. Thats a little like me, isnt it?

You are very unique, Suze. Not many people are so active in their sleep as you are. You are a very interesting study.

I picked at my rice and sweet-and-sour shrimp but didnt say more. Suddenly I didnt feel like eating. An interesting study. Yep. Thats me. The nagging hunch that David found my disorder more intriguing than me was back. And that book hes writingdid I fit into it somehow? I instantly regretted agreeing to see Dr. Fielding.

David, youre a Christian.

He nodded, looking curious.

What do you think about Proverbs 11:1?

He looked at me inquisitively. The Lord hates cheating, but He delights in honesty. Is that the one you mean?

I was more surprised that he knew it than I should have been. I really didnt trust him, did I?

Yes, it is.

Ive based my life and all my business dealings on that verse. Its one of my favorites. I like clear direction and no-nonsense requests. There were furrows in his brow, put there by me and my question. Why?

Just wondering.

Thats a pretty odd thing to be just wondering.

I think a lot about honesty and integrity these days. I have to decide if I should tell my company how severe my sleepwalking is. Maybe theyll decide they dont want me in the new position. I skewered him with a look, determined to test his response. I dont like fabrications of any sortor undisclosed agendasif you know what I mean.

Like making me Exhibit A, for example.

But of course he didnt know. He had no idea that I was leery of showing up in his book as one of his worst-case examples. Even if no one ever read the book or recognized me in it, I would feel violated. But he did know Proverbs 11:1. That counts for something. Maybe my worries are all in my head.

Feeling miserable, I finished my lunch and went back to work. I want to trust David, but I dont, at least not yet.

Darla certainly doesnt trust me anymore, or Charley, either. She thinks were both demented to even care if the rat lives or dies. She steers clear of the laundry room. And she insists on keeping the door closed to that room as well. This is a good thing, especially for the rat.

Chester, now acclimated to my home, is getting a fat belly that swings near the floor when he walks. His fur is shaping up and all the nicks and cuts on his body have faded. One wouldnt even guess now what condition hed been in when he came to me. And now he has a purpose in life, something for which to live.

Unfortunately, his purpose is to eat the rat in my laundry room. When I came home from work today I found the door open and Chester splayed across the rats cage as if hed been pasted there. His voice was scratchy from growling and even his tail looked tired from flicking.

I pried him off the cage one toenail at a time and carried him in the other room to feed him something less tasty than fresh rat. Then I returned to the laundry room to study the rat.

Hed realized that no matter how fierce Chester sounded, he could not get to him. Mr. Snickers was leisurely nibbling on food in his dish and daintily lapping up water with his pink tongue. His blasé attitude must have driven Chester crazy.

I retuned to the kitchen and called Charley.

You have to come and get this rator the catthey cant cohabitate any longer. No, it cant wait a few days. Now. Ill be expecting you within the hour. And I hung up.

That meant, of course, that Charley would be here at dinnertime and would expect a meal in payment for driving to my place during rush hour. Resignedly I began to put together my semi-famous spaghetti sauce.

He and Darla arrived at the same time, just as I was putting spaghetti into a pot of boiling water. She stared daggers at him and he looked loopy and lovesick right back at her.

Dinners ready. Darla, set the table. Charley, fill up the water glasses. Ill pull the garlic bread out of the oven. Keeping them busy seemed the only way to keep them apart.

The first half of dinner was icy. Then an earth-shaking yowl broke into the silence.

The cat got into the laundry room again. Youve got to get his prey out of here.

We dashed into the room to see the cage toppled over. Chester was lying underneath it looking surprised and unhappy to have a rat sitting on top of him. See what I mean?

Without another word, Charley picked up the cage, opened the back door and trotted to his car with the rat in hand.

Thank goodness that creature is out of this house, Darla murmured, sagging against the wall. What kind of a man can tolerate a rat?

Charley respects every living thing. Sometimes it gets to be a problem but mostly I respect him for it. Hes a truly gentle man, Darla. Youd know that if youd give him a chance.

She shuddered. I dont want to hold hands with someone who has touched a rat.

Better than holding hands with some guy who is a rat, I muttered.

She should know; shes dated plenty of them.

She looked at me strangely but didnt speak. Something had made her wheels start turning.

Charley returned looking sheepish and went to wash his hands in the bathroom while I removed the spaghetti plates and dished up spumoni.

Darla cleared her throat. Im sorry I seemed so angry the other evening when you brought that rat to Suze. Im terrified of rodents. I moved out of a house once because I heard mice scratching inside the walls.

No problem, Charley responded magnanimously. They arent my favorite, either, but when someone brings a pet inany petI treat them the same. Suze is the only one I can count on not to be squeamish.

I took my time, putting the cookies on a plate and making tea for Darla. Things were looking up in the dining room.

S aturday and the 10K arrived too soon.

Darla, who runs at an indoor track in Chicago, decided that she, too, would enter the race since Davids friends had agreed to sponsor not only David and me but also any of our friends.

Once Charley got wind of that, he suddenly morphed into a track-and-field man himself, insisting that he was in tip-top shape and would have no trouble making the run either. The last time I can remember Charley doing anything that faintly resembled exercise was last January when the Siberian husky he was fostering decided he wanted to be on the opposite side of Lake Harriet from Charley. The dog, born and bred to pull, had, due to Charleys refusal to let go of the leash, towed him into the middle of the lake. Charley running on ice, skidding and sliding to keep up, was an Olympic moment. Or one for Americas Funniest Home Videos .

Darla stomped into my room looking mad and beautiful in her running shorts. Im being stalked. She went to the mirror and began to draw her lips in ruby-colored lip liner.

Anyone I know? I opened a drawer to find that the twins had dismantled all my paired socks and re-paired them, one light and one dark to a set. Thankfully Mom and Dad had taken the boys for the day.

You introduced me to him.

Charleys not stalking you. Weve hardly seen him lately. I eyed her suspiciously. Are you sure what you dont mean is that you wish hed start pursuing you?

The man dresses like a parrot! Not my idea of Mr. Right.

Hes almost done with that gig.

What is he going to be next, animal, vegetable or mineral?

Just plain old Charley is a pretty nice guy.

Darla made an odd snorting noise through her nose to signal her disbelief.

I think youre acting like you dont care about him because you know that you could really fall for the guy.

She looked at me with horror written on her face. You dont believe that!

It doesnt matter what I think. Do you believe it?

She opened my drawer and took out a ponytail holder to tame her curls. The man I marry isnt going to need remedial lessons in wardrobe selection.

Dont judge a book by its cover.

Or a man by his suit coat?

Darla sat down on my bed and sighed. Hes cute, but hes so not my type.

I hear you there. I dropped down beside her.