Chapter 8

"So how was the hot date?" Tyler asked the next morning while he got ready for school.

"Tyler, Paul and I just went to dinner. I'd hardly call that a 'hot date.' And it was very nice. We went to Flemings."

"The steakhouse? Yeah, Janice told me about that place. Miz Evans went there with one of her dates once."

"Really? I didn't know Winona dated."

"It's rare, but Jan says she does go out. Anyway, anything happen?"

"We talked most of the time, what did you think would happen?" Sandy gave him a look.

Tyler shrugged. "Nothing really. Nice you guys are clicking, though."

"It doesn't bother you that we've gone out a couple of times?" Sandy wondered, knowing how teenagers could be, especially boys.

She'd had a difficult time adjusting to her own mother dating again after her father died, and Sandy had been in her early thirties at the time.

"Nope. I think Paul's pretty cool," Tyler replied with a grin.

"I'm glad to hear that. I just want to make it clear, though, that it doesn't mean I love or miss your father any less."

"Mom, don't worry about it," Tyler assured her. "You know, Dad would have wanted you to go out. You're attractive and a widow; you should see some guys, especially Paul. And Granny Lacroix thinks it's great. Don't know what Nana and Pop Dillard think, though."

"You've talked to your grandmother?" Sandy asked, shocked.

"Yeah, she called last night while you and Paul were out. She's got some big news though she wouldn't tell me what. When I said you were on a date, naturally she wanted to know the gory details."

"And you told her." Sandy shook her head.

"You and Granny always taught me to be honest, so yeah."

"Tyler Michael Dillard, I don't believe you."

"Hey, I didn't say anything incriminating, just that Paul was our neighbor, he wasn't married, and you guys had gotten friendly."

"I suppose that won't do much harm," Sandy sighed.

"Yeah, considering how Granny likes to make a big deal out of shit. Anyway, I got to get going. I told Jan I'd walk her to the bus." He pecked Sandy on the cheek. "Later, Mom."

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"How long did you say this has been bothering you?" the doctor at the ER asked, examining

Paul's ankle later that morning.

"At least a little over a month," Paul answered. "I fell the wrong way during a match back the end of November, but didn't think anything about it. I worked through December, but it's been hurting like hell the last couple of weeks. It was okay for a couple of days, then it started acting up again late last night. I barely drove here this morning, not to mention sat out there in the waiting room forever."

"Let me get a couple of X-rays," the doctor replied. "If you were able to come in by yourself, that's a good sign that it isn't broken. But I want to check anyway."

"Fine." Paul rolled his eyes. Great, I'll be here the rest of the day.

Following the x-rays, he sat in the exam cubicle, waiting for the doctor to come back and listening to all the activity right outside.

Paul's ears perked up when he heard a nurse outside say, "Well, good morning, Ms. Dillard! What brings you all the way down here?"

Ms. Dillard? Sandy? Paul thought, sliding back into the room a little further so he would be out of view.

Hearing another voice respond to the nurse, there was no question it was Sandy, saying she was looking for some doctor to give some documents.

Shit!

Paul let out a low groan, thinking of all damn times he had to be here; if she happened to get a peek of his presence, Sandy would think he was some kind of klutzy dork for sure. He hadn't even taken a shower or shaved before coming in; he'd been in so much agony.

She had no idea Paul was there at all; she found the doctor she had come to see, delivered the papers the physician needed, and headed back upstairs to her office.

His doctor had come back in shortly after, confirming that indeed nothing was broken. "But I want you off for awhile until it's completely healed. I've contacted your company to at least give you thirty days.

"Thirty days?" Paul asked. "That will take me into February!"

"It's just as a precaution."

"What the hell am I going to do until February?" he wondered.

"Rest as much as possible. You're lucky not to have done further damage by working right after the injury."

Shit, Paul thought. This is going to be a long thirty days. I'm going to be bored out of my fucking skull.

Then he perked up a little, a small smile on his face when he thought of his neighbor.

Then again, it may not be as bad as I think….