Disclaimer: The characters from the books belong to JE; the story and the other odd characters belong to me.
A/N: Is it a bad sign when people keep calling me 'evil' in my reviews? And why does everyone assume *I* did anything to Grandma? She's perfectly capable of getting into trouble all by herself!
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Chapter 51
Juanita, the female tour guide, sounded wound up and was talking really fast. I had to ask several times before she slowed down enough that I could understand what she was actually saying.
They had stopped at Fort Fisher, a historic civil war site, for a tour and a catered picnic dinner. There had been free time after the meal for the tourists to look around a little more, but it was more than half an hour past the time for them to head to their hotel for the night and Grandma hadn't come back to the bus. One of their gentlemen was missing, too.
Why was I not surprised?
"Where have you looked?" I asked, trying to remain calm.
They'd searched the gift shop, the fort itself, and had combed the fort's grounds. "Someone said they thought she'd gone down to the beach, but Jason went to look and there's no sign of them."
Okay, so now I was getting a little worried… then I remembered Grandma's new phone.
"I'm going to let you go for just a minute, Juanita, and I'll call you right back. Okay?" I disconnected and took a shaky breath.
Ranger sat back down next to me and put his arm around me. "Has Grandma gone AWOL?" he asked softly.
"Maybe. They can't find her and it's time for the bus to head for the hotel. I'm going to try her phone," I explained. He didn't say anything, just nodded. I appreciated the quiet support of his arm, though. I flipped my phone back open and dialed.
One ring, two…three. Grandma answered on the fourth ring, sounding a little breathless.
"Stephanie? What's up? Is everything okay?"
I shook my head and let myself sag into Ranger's arm. "You tell me. I just got a call from Juanita the tour guide saying you were missing. Where are you?"
"Me and Ernie went for a walk on the beach. We were talking and didn't realize how far we'd walked until it started to get dark. We turned around and headed back as fast as we can and I think we're almost there -- we can see lights -- but its dark enough now that we keep tripping over the damned seaweed."
"Okay, Grandma. I'll call and tell them where you are. Maybe someone from the tour can come out with flashlights. Be careful that you don't fall before they get to you!" I said goodbye and hung up, then immediately called Juanita back. "She answered her phone, she's okay. She and a gentleman named Ernie went for a walk on the beach and went further than they realized. They're within sight of the lights now but in the dark they're tripping over seaweed. Could someone maybe take a couple of flashlights down to light their way?" I waited as she covered her phone to call out instructions to someone. When she came back on the line I caught her before she could hang up. "Before you hang up, let me give you Grandma – Edna's – cell phone number. She got the phone right before she left and none of us thought to give the number to you, and I apologize for that." I let her get a pen and then recited the number slowly and clearly, and apologized again for Grandma's being late.
"It's all right, Ms. Plum, things like this happen. I'm just glad they're okay." She sounded relieved, and was talking at normal speed now. "I hope I didn't upset you, calling like that."
"No, you didn't. Unfortunately I'm kind of used to it."
Juanita laughed. "Yes, I've noticed that Edna is quite feisty! Anyway, I'm sorry I disrupted your evening, and thank you for Edna's phone number."
"It was no problem," I reassured her, and we said goodbye.
I curled into Ranger and his arms closed around me reassuringly. "She's fine," I repeated out loud even though he'd heard me explain to Juanita where Grandma was.
"It was a good thing you thought to get her a phone," Ranger said, rubbing my back.
"I didn't get it, Valerie did."
"It was your idea," he said, "and it worked out well. Now come on, let's go to bed."
As he pulled me to my feet I noticed he'd turned off the TV while I was on the phone. I headed to the bathroom first to take off my makeup and brush my teeth. While he took his turn I undressed and tossed my clothes into the laundry hamper, then crawled under the covers with the ice pack. By the time Ranger joined me the cold had numbed the itch, enough so that my mind turned to other things – namely the warm hard man next to me.
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Saturday morning Ranger woke me around eight so that he could look at my stitches and ask how they felt before he went downstairs.
"I've got a few things I want to take care of before we go to New York," he explained.
"Try to take it easy on your leg today if you can. It looks fine, but if it keeps bothering you get Bobby to look at it. He may have something that will help. Barring emergencies we should be able to leave for New York tomorrow morning."
I really hoped nothing came up to interfere with our plans. I was looking forward to seeing how Ranger shopped, which was probably silly but still... My leg developing an infection or something would seriously tick me off.
Ranger was watching me think and the corners of his eyes were crinkling. "Call me if you want to have lunch," he added, then he kissed me and headed out.
I sighed and snuggled back down into the pillows hoping for another hour's sleep but my leg started itching again. It felt like there were ants crawling under my skin. I tried to ignore it but after a few minutes I couldn't stand it anymore and threw back the covers to glare at the bandage.
WHY! Why was it itching? I got up and used the bathroom, then peeled the bandage off and half-sat on the vanity where I could see it with good light. It looked fine, just like Ranger said. It wasn't red or puffy, the stitches weren't crusty or pulling, and the bruising had faded to that faint greenish tinge. It was much less tender to the touch, too, but I doubted very seriously that I should scratch it.
Sighing, I took a quick shower and patted the stitches dry, then ran conditioner through my hair and dried it. I put a plain giant bandage over the stitches and got dressed in a RangeMan polo shirt and a pair of shorts. I'd get Bobby to look at them.
When I called the control room to find out where Bobby was he answered the phone, and said he'd meet me at the elevator on six.
"Six?" I repeated dumbly. "I thought Ella and Luis lived on six?"
"They do," he said with a chuckle, "But their apartment doesn't take up the entire floor. Just to the right of the elevator is an area set up as an infirmary where we can take care of minor wounds, and there are a couple of beds for the rare occasion someone is sick enough to need watching."
Okay, I was learning new things about RangeMan all the time.
Bobby was waiting when the elevator opened as promised, and he led the way into the first door to the right. It looked like a cross between a doctor's exam room and a cubicle in the ER, with an adjustable-height gurney in the center of the floor space. The walls were lined with counters and overhead cupboards, all neatly labeled with their contents. A dorm-sized refrigerator sat in the corner of one of the countertops. A stainless-steel rolling stool was tucked under one of the countertops and a small armchair sat in the corner by the door.
Bobby pressed a footpad with the toe of his boot and the gurney lowered enough that I could sit down without having to climb.
"Have a seat and get comfortable," he said. He went to the sink and washed his hands thoroughly, drying them on paper towels. When he turned back I'd arranged myself as comfortably as possible while making my stitches easily accessible.
Hooking the stool with one foot and pulling a wall-mounted light closer with one hand, Bobby seated himself next to me and turned on the light. I reached down and peeled the bandage off to get that out of the way.
"It looks fine," he said after he'd looked and prodded it gently. "It itches? How much?"
"It feels like ants are crawling under my skin," I told him. "It's driving me nuts."
"I wonder..." he started, then trailed off. "I'm going to call your doctor. Want to wait, or do you have things to do?"
I could start packing, but that wasn't something urgent. Right now, getting these damned stitches to stop itching was my top priority. "I'll wait." I thought about getting off the gurney and sitting in the chair, but it didn't seem worth the effort. Bobby stepped back and leaned on the counter as he made the call from his cell. There was a wait until he the doctor came on the line, apparently, and I found my thoughts wandering to the upcoming trip to New York and what I was going to wear.
"Do you have any allergies, Steph?"
I re-focused to find Bobby was right next to me again. He still had his phone to his ear.
I shook my head. "Not that I know of."
He relayed that to the doctor. As he listened he reached out and prodded gently around the stitches again. His skin was very dark against my pale thigh. Tank's skin was a lot darker than Bobby's, and Lula's was somewhere in between. Now that I thought about it, my friends were a wide variety of hues – Lester was kind of golden, Woody was the color of light toast, Cal was browner, and Hal was nearly as white as me. Hector was caramel, Max was cinnamon-y, Joe was olive-skinned…and of course Ranger had yummy mocha latte.
Bobby's hand waved in front of my face and my eyes snapped up to see his grinning face. "Earth to Steph… Not getting enough sleep?"
Actually, my brain was playing free-association games to distract me from thinking about medical stuff – but I wasn't going to admit that to Bobby. It was bad enough that everyone knew I hated going to the emergency room for stitches. I wasn't about to admit that I was a wimp when it came to getting them removed, too. So I just gave him a little grin and kept my mouth shut.
"Well, I think - and the doctor agrees - that you may be having a mild allergic reaction to the type of suture used for your stitches. He said we could go ahead and take the stitches out. I can put a few butterfly bandages across it to make sure it doesn't open back up, but you're healing so well I really don't think that will be a problem."
"Okay," I agreed, relieved. I was really afraid it was infected.
"Do you want me to take you to the doctor to have the stitches out?" he asked.
"Not really," I answered, and I know my face probably scrunched up. I didn't like going to the doctor for any reason. "Can you do it?"
"Sure, sweetheart, if it's okay with you."
"Let's do it."
"You want to stay sitting up, or lie back?"
I elected to lie back – that way I was less likely to fall off the gurney if I passed out. Bobby adjusted the gurney and pillow then turned to collected a few things while I got situated and gave myself a mental pep-talk. He rolled a stand with a paper-covered tray on it over and re-adjusted the light.
"You remember it stings a little when they come out, right?"
When I nodded he continued. "I'm going to swab the area with a disinfectant first so no germs get pulled in. Then we'll get those stitches out."
The disinfectant was cold and smelled sharp like alcohol, but it didn't sting. Bobby's touch was gentle and deft as he clipped each stitch close to the skin and pulled them out. I managed not to flinch after the first one, and thankfully there weren't many. When they were all out he blotted away a few tiny drops of blood and then opened a small tube of ointment. He used a swab to smooth a thin film of it over the area.
"What's that?"
"This has an antibiotic and hydrocortisone in it. It will help prevent infection, lessen scarring - and hopefully help finish off the itch." He put the lid back on the tube and continued, "I didn't put butterfly bandages across it because I don't think you'll need them, but there is a slight chance the incision could reopen if you get hit there. If you think you might be rough on it you can clean the ointment off and put these on as insurance." He handed me a pack of little butterfly strips and the little tube of ointment, and then re-bandaged my leg. When he was done he disposed of the sutures, swabs, and bandage wrappers along with the paper liner from the tray, then rolled his stool back and looked at me.
"Well? Any aching, stinging, or itching?"
I sat still and concentrated on my leg for a moment, and then started to smile. "No more itch! I think that was it. Thank you, Bobby! That was really driving me crazy."
"Good," he smiled back. "Treat it gently for a few more days. And come see me if it starts to bother you again."
I went upstairs to change the shorts for black jeans and found the little stack of flyers I'd gotten from Elsie about the fundraiser. I took them with me when I went back down to five. Cal was on monitors told me Ranger and Woody had gone to meet with a new client and would probably be gone for a while. I decided to keep busy and run some more searches in my cubicle. As I passed Lester's desk I gave the flyers and asked him to put them up where the guys would all see them.
At eleven-thirty Ella came to find me. "It's lunchtime, dear," she reminded me with a smile. "Ranger just called and is on his way up to seven if you want to eat together."
I looked at the clock in surprise. "Thanks, Ella, I didn't realize the time." Putting the search I'd just completed in the outbox I followed Ella to the elevator. She got off on six and I went on up to the apartment.
Ranger's keys were in the tray but he wasn't in the kitchen or living room. I found him in the bathroom drying his face. His meeting had been to determine placement for various monitoring equipment, and I gave him a sympathetic smile.
"One of those mornings?" I asked.
Dropping the towel back on the rack, he stretched his back and then reached for me, pulling me into a hug.
"Nervous and neurotic," he said briefly of the new client, "but willing to pay for the coverage they want so I guess it works out. How is your leg?"
I heard Ella come in and the muted clatter of plates and tugged him toward the door.
"Bobby figured out it was the thread stuff and got the doctor's okay to take the stitches out. Now it feels fine - no more itch!"
He didn't reply, just smiled.
Lunch was relaxed and quiet. Ranger didn't seem to be in a hurry to go back downstairs and after we finished eating he spent twenty minutes sprawled in the recliner with me in his lap. His eyes were closed but he wasn't dozing, he wasn't kissing me, he was just holding me. I loved the quiet closeness and felt like I was being recharged.
When he took a deep breath I knew he was ready to move again and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw before I sat up.
"Not so fast," he said, catching me back before I could get up and giving me a proper kiss. After a few more minutes, when I could refocus, he said, "This afternoon Ella would like to come up and help pack for our trip. Is that okay?"
It was fine with me. I could pack for myself but didn't think I'd be comfortable packing for Ranger yet. He headed back downstairs to make notes on the client meeting while it was fresh in his mind. I headed for the computer in his small office to look up the weather forecast for New York.
It was supposed to be cold and breezy with a chance of flurries. I headed into the closet.
When Ella came in I had two sets of comfortable shopping clothes for myself laid out on the bed complete with socks, underwear and low-heeled shoes. The clothes I planned to wear on the drive tomorrow were folded on the chair in the corner and I was staring into space wondering what I was forgetting.
"You might want to have at least one dinner dress," Ella suggested after she'd looked over the collection.
I wasn't sure I'd have the energy to go out after a day of shopping but there would probably be time after we arrived Sunday. What kind of place would Ranger want to go to eat? Fancy? Casual? Ella must have read the indecision on my face because she went into the closet and came back out with a simple dress in deep royal blue.
It was a nice dress. The style was a simple princess-cut, almost knee-length, with a scoop neck and three-quarter length sleeves. The fabric was soft and rich, almost like velvet. It would be comfortable to wear and fit in anywhere. Nice choice. I'd never seen it before, though, so I wonder how it got in the closet?
Ella just chuckled when I asked, then asked if I minded sharing luggage with Ranger.
I didn't mind. The idea of Ella packing our clothes together gave me goosebumps, though, and I felt silly and self-conscious. As a result I found myself adding one of my cute pajama sets to the items on the bed.
I was probably more in Ella's way than helpful. I followed her into the closet and watched as she pulled out a medium sized suitcase and a suit bag. She put them on the bed and went back, selecting jeans, long sleeved knit shirts, black slacks and jacket, and a black silk shirt for Ranger. I added a pair of black silk boxers from the drawer that now held several pairs and I think Ella hid a smile.
Ranger evidently had a separate shaving kit for when he traveled, probably because he did so much of it. Ella took it out of a drawer in the bathroom and I heard her checking to make sure all the contents were full. I gave up 'helping' and took my purse out to the dining room. I needed to clean it out and I needed to get out of Ella's way.
I carefully dumped the contents onto the table after first laying a folded bath towel over the wood. My gun still landed with a thud that made me wince and I hoped it hadn't dented the tabletop. After picking out all the wadded candy wrappers and lists and tissues and tossing them in the trash, I began sorting through the rest. I cleaned old receipts out of my wallet and made sure my credit cards and ID were where they belonged, and that I had some cash. I laid aside my handcuffs - surely I wouldn't need them in New York? - and my gun. I doubted I'd need it and Ranger would be carrying anyway. I checked the charge on my stun gun and put it with my wallet. Better to be safe.
I finished my sorting by tossing an empty gum package and a lipstick that had gotten smushed into the lid. I shook the lint out of the purse lining and put my things back inside except for my little notebook.
I fetched the shopping list we'd made, copied it to my notebook, and dropped it and a couple of ink pens into my purse. I was leaning back debating whether or not to replenish my emergency candy bar stash when Ella came out of the bedroom.
"Would you like anything in particular for dinner? Or for breakfast in the morning?" she asked.
"Could you make those breakfast burritos for in the morning? I don't know what time Ranger wants to leave and the one I had before was wonderful."
"Of course! I can put them in the refrigerator tonight and they'll be ready whenever you want them."
Before we could talk about dinner, my cell rang. The caller ID said it was my parent's house.
"Stephanie, I just wanted to call and let you know we just got home." It was my father. I could count on one hand the number of times my father had called me on the phone so I was more than a little shocked.
"Where's mom?" I asked. She always did the calling…was she okay?
"She's fine, she got sleepy in the car on the ride home so she's taking a nap."
"Oh."
"I see someone shoveled the snow for me while we were gone. Can you thank them and let them know I appreciate it?"
"I'm not sure which one of the guys did it, but I'll let them know. So, did you enjoy yourselves in Atlantic City? Win any money?"
He chuckled. "We had a blast. We went through about two hundred dollars in the casino but we hit a couple of small jackpots so I think we came out about even, and the suite was incredible. Your mom did some shopping and we ate at a seafood buffet that was so huge I don't think I even got to taste everything."
I grinned. I didn't even know my dad liked seafood.
"Anyway," he was continuing, "I was wondering if you and your Ranger had plans for dinner tonight. It's our last night before Edna's due back, and if you're not busy we'd like to take you out as a thank-you."
"I'll ask Ranger, but as far as I know we don't have plans yet. Can I call you back in just a little while?"
"Sure, Pumpkin."
"Um…Dad?" It had just occurred to me that my parents might not have heard about the ricochet incident yet, and I wanted to tell him up front and get it out of the way. "I forgot to mention this because it happened the afternoon before you left for Atlantic City, but…" I explained as briefly as possible about the incident, emphasizing that the injury was extremely minor – the stitches had been more irksome – and that I was fine. I didn't want Mom making a fuss if we ate dinner together.
"I'll make sure she knows beforehand," Dad reassured me. "Let me know about dinner."
I looked around but Ella had gone, leaving a note on the bar that just said to call if we decided to stay in for dinner. I opened my phone and called Ranger's office. He answered on the second ring. I explained my father's phone call quickly and asked if he would mind eating with my parents.
He was fine with it and just said to just let him know what time.
I called my dad back and we agreed on a time, then talked about options for where. I knew they'd been to Pino's, and Dad wouldn't enjoy getting dressed up for Rossini's, so I suggested the little Greek place Cal had taken me to. It was another different thing to try so my Dad was all for it. Feeling brave, I said we'd pick them up. If we took the Cayenne we'd all fit comfortably, and I didn't think Ranger would mind driving.
I called Ranger back with the details, eyeing the clock as I hung up. If I hurried, I could make a fast trip to my apartment to raid my candy stash, polish my nails, and grab the cash I had hidden there. When my eyes dropped I realized I was staring at my gun and handcuffs still lying on the towel. Sighing, I picked them up and dropped them back into my purse. Leaving them here would probably just be tempting fate.
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TBC…
