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Prodigal Nights

By Lisa Buffaloe

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Disfrused. Maybe not a word, but that summed up her week—disappointed, frustrated, and worried. Bethany Davis checked her speedometer and eased up on the accelerator. Getting a ticket wouldn’t help.

Three years ago, she swore she’d never come back to this town for more than a quick visit. The phone call from her oldest brother changed everything. Dad was in the hospital, and only family made it worth facing Southburg, Virginia, again.

Bethany turned into the hospital parking lot and snatched the last available space. Leaning over her steering wheel, she scanned the visitor's lot. Good. No media vans or pesky reporters. Her father’s executive-level involvement in the defense industry drew constant attention. The last thing she wanted to do was bring her dad additional stress.

The coast clear, she stepped out of her car. Hot air stuck in her lungs. Thunderclouds hung low in the distance, threatening the May sky. She willed her feet forward. Part of her wanted to run to her dad’s side. The other part wanted to run away. She probably shouldn’t have promised to move back home for three weeks. But when her brother mentioned her parents wanted her home, she’d jumped at the opportunity for reconciliation.

Quick trips during holidays at neutral resorts had never been enough to clear the tension hanging in the air since her divorce. She couldn’t risk something happening to her dad without setting things right.

Straightening her shoulders, she hurried her step. Her insides whimpered, but a good Davis didn’t show emotion. Dad would be okay. He had to. Besides, nothing stopped him. Not being shot while serving in the military. Not cancer. Not even nosy newsmen.

Plaza Hospital’s lobby bustled with activity. Families huddled in groups. Two children squealed and giggled as they played chase with a pink Congratulations balloon. A dark-haired man sat in the corner reading a newspaper. Antiseptic smells mingled with the scent of popcorn served from a vendor cart.

Bethany hesitated at the gift shop entrance. Should she take something to her father? Flowers were out of the question. She’d learned that lesson when she was six. He had accepted her hand-picked flowers, chastised her for picking them, and then thrown them in the garbage. How could she have known the plant she’d chosen to wrap her bouquet in was poison ivy?

She walked inside the small shop brimming with flowers and gifts and went straight for the cards. Most were mushy and sentimental. Some were funny. One with a sunset shot of the ocean caught her eye—nothing too sappy, just a few simple statements wishing the person a speedy recovery. Oh, how she hoped he would fully recover.

At the counter, a guy paid for a candy bar then turned to face her. A smile lit his handsome face. Tall and muscular with a slender frame, he stood in her way, staring at her.

Bethany met his gaze. Did she know him? “Excuse me. Can I pay for my card?”
Handsome guy blinked as though clearing his vision. “Sorry.” He still didn’t move.

She leaned to the right and made eye contact with the young man who stood at the cash register. “How much for the card?”

The cashier tapped the guy on the shoulder. “Dude, could you move so she can pay?”

Clueless, handsome guy flinched and moved to the left, but his eyes never left her face.

Not sure if she should elbow him or give him a big smile, Bethany stepped forward and paid for her purchase.

When she finished, the guy was already walking away. Shame she couldn’t get her past to vanish that easily.

She stepped back into the lobby, sat in a chair, and pulled out the card. What should she write? A zillion thoughts zinged through her head, and all of them made her feel like a lost little girl. Ugh, she was a grown woman. Okay, at twenty-five maybe a semi-grown woman who still wanted her daddy. She signed the card, “I’ve missed you and love you, Bethany.”

Only two weeks ago they had been together for her college graduation. Elena and Charles Davis, Bethany’s always perfectly coifed, perfectly in charge, perfectly perfect parents, had congratulated her, taken her to dinner, and wished her the best. Quick hugs, quick release, not much discussed.

Just like when Bethany left Southburg. The lies and gossip about her divorce were never discussed, and unfortunately never addressed by her parents. No one stood up or fought for her, and she left her marriage in a cloud of false accusations.

Bethany stood, walked to the elevator, and waited next to a man in green scrubs. The shiny stainless doors reflected his image. Good looking with brown hair and a shadow of a goatee. Seemingly oblivious to her presence, he flipped through a patient’s chart.

The elevator doors opened, and he followed her inside. Bethany pressed the seventh-floor button. He punched the eighth and moved next to her, invading her space with his seductive cologne. Cute or not, Bethany took a step away from him. She had enough regrets.

Bethany exited the elevator into the small, empty waiting area. Craning her neck, she checked the area. Clear. She turned to the stairs and jogged down two flights just like her overly cautious dad had taught her.

Being careful back in her hometown came naturally. Shame she hadn’t used more caution the last three years while away at college.

Maybe now, back home for a few weeks, she could sort things through and get a clean start. Repair any damage left in her wake with her family and move on far away from the memories of Southburg.

Two of her father’s bodyguards nodded their recognition and opened the door of room 473. In the oversized, private room, machines silently monitored her father’s progress. Even asleep, Charles Davis looked in control. Military straight, he lay on his back, eyes closed.

Her mother, wearing classic black pants and white silk shirt, rose to her feet. Normally nothing about her mother would be out of place—not a hair, and definitely nothing ever wrinkled. Today, one side of her salt and pepper hair lay tight against her head, the rest perfect as always. Her clothes hung loose and wrinkled.

Mom seemed to waver, her eyes taking in every ounce of Bethany as though they hadn’t seen one another in ages. Without a word, Elena rushed to Bethany and clung to her. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her mom’s voice caught. Obviously fighting for self-control, she took a step back. Tears rimming her eyes and bottom lip quivering, she motioned for Bethany to sit next to her by her dad’s bed.

“He’s been sleeping for the last hour.” Dark circles framed her mom’s eyes. She patted Bethany’s hand and squeezed.

The thought of losing her dad left a ten-pound brick lodged in her stomach. He’d always been the strong one—the planner who drove the family and his business to success.

“Did you get any rest last night?” Bethany kept hold of her mother’s soft grip, wishing she could transport back to childhood days when life was innocent, and Mom’s touch could remove any hurt.

“As much as I could.” Her mother responded with a weak smile as her tiny frame seemed to shrink under the weight of worry.

A folded blanket sat on the reclining chair in the corner. Mom’s designer purse drooped against the arm. However, no sign of her older brother. Her brother’s frantic phone call had given her the willies. Chase never showed emotion, and yet he had broken down on the phone. She thought for sure Dad had died.

“Where’s Chase?”

“He went back this morning after we got the latest test results.”

“He didn’t stay?”

“With the defense contract going through Senate hearings, your father made him go back. When Chase said you had promised to stay for three months ….” Her mom broke down, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh Bethany, that is just the sweetest thing you have ever done.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, her gentle expression drinking in Bethany as though she had been gone forever. “Your father and I are thrilled. And since your father’s test results show he only had a minor stroke, we should have plenty of time to spend together.”

Bethany choked, coughed, gasped for air. Three months?

“Bethany?” The deep, slightly slurred voice came from the bed.

“Dad.” His normally tanned face held a chalky pallor. Bethany tentatively took her father’s big hand. For once, he didn’t pull away. “How are you feeling?” The little girl in her wanted to curl up in his arms, hear him say everything would be fine and that he loved her. But that wouldn’t happen—never had happened—feelings were never shown. Not in their military household.

His gaze locked with hers, and moisture gathered in his dark eyes. He gripped her hand. “I’m glad you’re home.” His voice rattled. He coughed clearing his throat. “This will be a good summer.”

She nodded; all words trapped in her tight throat.

He swallowed hard, emotions flickering across his face. Emotions she hadn’t seen except at his mother’s funeral. His jaw tightened. Releasing her hand, he struggled to sit.

Her mom rubbed his arm. “Please don’t push yourself.”

“Too much going on with the company. Can’t jeopardize the contract. Has there been anything in the news?”

“Nothing in detail.” Elena’s rubbing turned to nervous patting. “Only that you’ve been hospitalized.”

He swore and pointed at Bethany. “Keep those news bloodhounds off my tail. If word gets out that I’m not fit to work, everything will be in jeopardy.” He took a deep breath, turned his focus to her mother. “Tell the doctors to run tests for a yearly physical. I don’t want the word stroke mentioned by anyone, especially a reporter.”

Bethany stared at the linoleum floor. She’d horsewhip Chase. She had offered three weeks, not three months. No way he misunderstood. He set her up. Probably so he wouldn’t have to come back home and most definitely to torture her. He hated her. Hated the minute she was born and did everything in his power to drive her crazy. She could see the headlines: Big brother finally sends little sister over the edge of sanity.

She looked over at her mom who was studying her.

Mom smiled, tender and sweet, and mouthed, “I love you.”

~~~

Jason Ross paced in the lobby. Why couldn’t he have said something intelligent instead of standing there like an idiot in the gift shop?

What was he thinking? God would never reward or trust him with someone like her. Not with his past wild years. He believed in God’s grace and knew he was forgiven, but surely for someone that amazing, he’d have to do ten years penance in some obscure country ministering to headhunters.

He turned toward the emergency room to check on his co-worker—a human accident waiting to happen. Warren Carver’s latest fiasco involved cutting through the power cord with hedge-clippers. Thanks to a surge protector, he wasn’t electrocuted. But from there, how on earth could someone with a genius IQ get mauled by a weed-whacker?

Anita, the white-haired nurse at the ER front desk smiled at Jason. “Doc just gave our loveable walking disaster a couple of stitches on his face and arm. At least his singed hair looks better than last week.” She pointed to the back.
“Except for the missing eyebrow, he just about looks normal.” Jason chuckled to himself. Warren and hibachi grills were not a good combination. His guardian angel should get hazard pay.

Jason walked through the two large doors to the treatment rooms. Warren sat cross-legged on the first bed on the right. Several leaves and a small twig clung to his dark hair. His shirt, stained with blood and grass, looked like something out of a laundry detergent commercial.

He cocked his remaining eyebrow at Jason. “Thanks for coming.”

“I stopped by your house and cleaned up the mess on your front lawn. Your hedges look terminal. Want to explain what happened?”

“After the clippers died, I thought I’d improvise. I guess weed-eaters are best left to lawn care … not shrubbery.”

“I think you should pay someone to do your yard work.”

“But I enjoy working outside.” Warren rubbed his chin smearing a streak of dirt still clinging to his stubble. “I probably just need more powerful equipment.”

Jason choked back a laugh. “Well, at least your attempts keep you and the medical staff in stitches.”

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