The Next Morning …..
"Meg, would you like to get a few of your things this morning before your follow up appointment?" Ben asked after tapping on the door. Meg opened the door wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants.
"Yes, thank you, Fraser." Her hair was a mess and she was bare foot. Fraser noticed the red polish on her toes and a white racing stripe down the center of each big toe. It seemed rather out of character for her, but cute.
"I've prepared biscuits, sausage gravy, scrambled eggs and hash browns downstairs if you'd care to eat breakfast." The Mountie offered.
"Is there coffee?" Meg asked, smiling as she put out her hand for Fraser to guide her to the stairs.
"Yes, I made some fresh as soon as I woke up." Ben answered.
"What time is it right now?" Meg wondered, treading down the stairs carefully.
"Six-thirty." He answered naturally.
"What time is my follow up appointment with Dr. Brown?"
"Eleven o'clock." Meg groaned at his answer, then she took a deep breath and decided to enjoy the chance to eat before Turnbull arrived for work.
"Good morning, Inspector Thatcher." came the voice that startled Meg. She screamed and began to stumble, grabbing onto the bannister for support.
"Fraser, you should have told me that Constable Turnbull was in the consulate." She turned and began to walk back up the stairs, out of sight.
"Inspector, I wasn't aware he'd arrived." Ben followed her, taking her hand. Meg just as quickly yanked it back.
"This is such a mess." Meg groaned as she closed the bedroom door, wishing she could teleport to her apartment then to her appointment.
"My apologies, Sir." She heard Fraser take a deep breath and release it slowly.
"Constable Fraser, will you please bring me a plate?" Meg asked, her voice strained. She didn't hear him respond. Curious, she got up and listened at the door. She heard his foot falls on the back staircase as he descended into the kitchen.
"Here's your tray, Inspector." Fraser's voice sounded as he tapped on the door.
"Come in, Fraser." Meg answered from the bed where she sat with her head down, forehead parallel to the floor.
"Perhaps it would be better if I asked Francesca Vecchio to lend you something." Fraser spoke as if he were talking more to himself than to Meg.
"Nonsense, Fraser, I can retrieve my own things before we leave for my appointment." Meg felt Ben set the tray on the bed beside her. Carefully, he handed her a cup of coffee fixed to suit her. He always remembered how she took her coffee.
"Breakfast smells wonderful." Meg complimented gently, feeling embarrassed at her earlier over reaction.
"Thank you kindly." Fraser said automatically, still standing beside the bed, thinking.
"Your breakfast is getting cold, Fraser." Meg said, feeling his presence towering over her.
"Ah, yes, it is." He turned, feeling dismissed.
"Fraser," Meg said before he could reach the door.
"Yes?" He said expectantly, turning back toward her.
"I wasn't prepared for Constable Turnbull to see me so, how shall I say?" Meg paused, "So unprepared, I may have over reacted."
"Understood." Meg could only imagine the look on Fraser's face; resignation, reservation. He hesitated for a moment before leaving.
"You are such a nincompoop, Margaret Thatcher." She said to herself, sighing as she took a bite of scrambled eggs covered in gravy.
After eating the entire plate, Meg was comfortably full. She'd eaten Ben's cooking before, when he was trying to keep a dairy producer from killing a chicken farmer, but that omelet was nothing compared to the fluffy, golden biscuits, perfectly spiced sausage gravy and scrambled eggs he'd prepared for her. Fraser was a better cook than most women. Meg wanted to slip a ring on his left hand just so he'd cook for her.
"Inspector, are you finished?" Fraser called through the closed door.
"Come in, Fraser, I'm done." Meg called, sitting on the side of the bed, both of her elbows on her knees as she held her face in her hands.
"Are you alright, Meg?" Ben knelt down to her level, studying her hunched over form.
"I'm fine, Fraser, just trying to keep those nitrous oxide bubbles in place as the doctor ordered." Meg's cheerful voice sounded forced.
"I've called a taxi to take us to your apartment, it should arrive in a few minutes. Is there anything you need before we leave?" Ben asked, thinking how naturally beautiful Meg was when she wasn't trying to be. All the strands of pearls, Max Factor and Channel were only gaudy ornaments.
"Just my purse." Meg shrugged. "I must look like a bum in this." She adjusted the t-shirt across her shoulders and sat up straight.
"No, Meg, you look fine." Ben said softly, rising to gather the tray of dishes. He ached to touch her tousled hair. Meg sniffed, unconvinced.
"I'll follow you down the back stairs, just let me slip my shoes on and find my purse." Meg stood up, ready to be back in her apartment, even if it was just long enough to get a week's worth of clothes and her toiletries.
"Lay your hand on my shoulder and we'll be on our way." Fraser stood with his back to her, waiting for Meg to find him. Did she ever, Ben felt her hand hit him in the lower back and then her fingers work their way up his spine until she found his shoulder. He could feel the heat of her hand through his uniform and undershirt.
"I'm ready." Meg said, letting him lead her through the doorway, down the hall and into the kitchen. He took slow, careful steps so she could keep up easily. In the total darkness, it was difficult to judge depth so Meg bumped into the kitchen door frame.
"Ouch!" She took her hand off Fraser's shoulder and laid it on her bicep where she was certain she'd have a new bruise before the day was through.
"Are you alright, Meg?" Ben asked over his shoulder.
"Yes, I'm fine, I simply found the door frame the hard way." She groped in the darkness to find his back again, this time finding his neck instead. The feel of her fingers brushing the back of his neck was intoxicating, leaving him a bit dazed.
"Are we in the kitchen yet?" Meg asked, wondering why Fraser had stopped.
"Yes, we're in the kitchen." He took a short step toward the sink to deposit Meg's breakfast dishes. It was going to be a long day if she kept this up.
Meg's Apartment ….
Meg bit her bottom lip as they rode the elevator up to her apartment, wondering how she was going to get her things without Fraser's help. She knew that he would do anything necessary to help her in any way, but there were somethings that a woman needed to do for herself. Things like gathering her delicates and other personal items from the bathroom.
"Here we go." Fraser said when they reached Meg's floor. He took her hand, tucking it between his side and his left arm as he guided her toward her apartment at the end of the hallway. Ben took her keys and unlocked the door.
"This shouldn't take long." Meg could find her way though her house without Fraser's arm, but she didn't want to. It felt nice to be so close to him.
"Take as long as necessary." He led her to her bedroom door and placed her hand on the door frame.
"I'll need you to get my overnight bag out of the closet, if you don't mind, Fraser." Meg turned back to where he stood. He saw the closed accordion closet door and swallowed hard.
"Don't worry, nothing in there will bite." Meg teased, her lips pulling into a playful smile. "My overnight bag is on the top shelf, I have to stand in a kitchen chair to reach it." She walked over to the closet door and easily folded it back and took a step inside, yanking the overhead light on. Fraser was amazed at how comfortable she was in her apartment, how she'd already adapted to her temporary blindness. He walked into the closet and looked around at the extremely well organized space. There were her usual business suits at the front, heavy winter coats at the back along the right side and on the left were other pieces, sweaters, formal dresses, and one long garment bag with a poofy bottom. Through the clear plastic Fraser saw a rainbow colored tulle skirt and dark blue sequins of a mermaid tailed, strapless dress. From the looks of it, Meg had worn it in high school. He also saw a pink, purple and blue swirled hat with sequins. The colors blended like cotton candy, the sequins shimmering in the overhead light.
"Did you find it, Fraser?" Meg asked when she thought he'd surely been in there long enough.
"Yes, here it is." He pulled the dark maroon bag from the shelf, a hard backed journal falling on his foot. Ben stooped down and retrieved the book.
"It will just take a moment to gather what I'll need at least for the next few days." Ben held the journal in his hands, tapping it softly against the palm of his hand. Meg began puttering around the room, using the furniture as her guide. First she found her house shoes, then went to the dresser and began pulling out the drawers. In went pajama bottoms and tops, from the closet came slacks and blouses as well as a few sweaters.
"I can manage, Fraser." Meg turned to stare sightlessly in his direction, one hand on the knobs on the top cherry dresser drawer . It was his cue to leave while she gathered her delicates.
"Understood." Fraser walked out to the living room. He realized that he still held the journal. It was navy blue leather with MT in stamped in gold in the bottom corner. Curiosity burned in the Mountie but he dared not open the five by eight tome. He could only imagine what Meg would have to say if she caught him with it. He couldn't very well go back into the bedroom with it and put it back on the shelf. The Inspector was many things, but she wasn't stupid or unobservant. Fraser tucked it in his tunic and resolved to put it back another time.
"I'm ready when you are, Fraser." Meg came out of the bathroom redressed in a pair of black, pleat fronted slacks and a cherry red blouse. She'd ran a brush through her silky hair.
"Ah, Meg, you've got two different color trouser socks on." Ben said, trying to suppress a smile. He saw the flicker of annoyance on her face.
"Which one is black?" She put one hand on her hip.
"Your right foot." Ben answered, his smile evident in his voice. Meg would have rolled her eyes had things been different. She turned on her heel and walked back toward the bedroom. When she returned her trouser socks matched and she was carrying her overnight bag.
"What time is it?" Meg put her hand over her left wrist where she usually wore a watch.
"Ten o'clock." Fraser answered as church bells rang out the time.
"That's just enough time to get to Dr. Brown's office." Meg smiled, pleased.
"Shall we?" Ben took her hand and the overnight bag. Together they left the apartment building. Dr. Brown's office ….
Meg felt cool air on her face as Dr. Brown took the bandaging off. Fraser sat in a chair watching as the doctor pulled out his pen light to examine the Inspector more carefully.
"How is the pain level, Ms. Thatcher?" Dr. Brown asked, using a cleaning astringent to get sticky tape off of her cheeks.
"It's alright, Dr. Brown, I slept until late yesterday evening." Meg said, her fingers digging into the arms of the exam chair. Fraser noted the increase in her breathing and the higher pitch of her usually husky voice. Meg was terrified and the Mountie could see it.
"It's almost over, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser said, moving close enough to lay a reassuring hand on her forearm. He saw her relax a bit.
"Yes, it's just about over. It was a good thing you had surgery when you did, you avoided complications. Everything is looking good." Dr. Brown leaned back, turning on the overhead light. One of the nurses brought replacement bandaging.
"How long will it be before the nitrous oxide bubbles have dissipated?" Meg asked, still squirming in the exam chair.
"At least two weeks, possibly longer." Dr. Brown answered with a grimace. "Until then you need to keep your forehead parallel with the floor at least forty-five minutes out of every hour." Meg gripped the chair arms again, but this time Fraser saw it was out of frustration, not fear.
"How am I supposed to get anything done?" Mostly the lady Mountie wondered how she was supposed to take a shower.
"In fifteen minute spurts." Dr. Brown shrugged. He'd been asked that same question as long as he'd been a retina specialist.
"That won't do, Dr. Brown, that just won't do." Meg balled her hands into fists.
"It's two weeks of inconvenience or a lifetime of blindness." Dr. Brown laid it out flatly. He'd seen the fear and impatience before. There wasn't anything to be done but suffer through it. Meg huffed but didn't say anything else, not that she didn't want to.
"Are there any other instructions, Dr. Brown?" Fraser asked, changing the subject.
"No unnecessary exertions and no stairs for a few days." Dr. Brown turned to the red serge clad officer. The good doctor had seen the way the Mountie conducted Meg through the maze of halls in his office, her arm held fast in the crook of his arm. Brown couldn't figure if Fraser's protectiveness was of the boyfriend sort or the brotherly sort. Either way, Meg Thatcher didn't seem to mind having him close at hand.
"Great, now I'm stuck upstairs at the consulate." Meg thought to herself.
"Do you have any other questions?" Dr. Brown inquired, standing up to leave.
"No, thank you, Dr. Brown." Meg leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, hands holding her face as she leaned seemed to peer down at her feet.
"Alright, see the receptionist on your way out and I'll see you in two weeks." Dr. Brown shook Fraser's hand before leaving.
Meg felt grumpy, just plain old grumpy. She didn't want to be laid up for the next two weeks, nothing to occupy her mind. She couldn't even look out the window at the world below.
"Where would you like to eat lunch, Inspector?" Fraser asked cheerfully, hoping he wouldn't get his head bit off for it.
"The consulate is fine, Fraser, might as well get used to it." Meg answered sullenly. With a huffy sigh she let Fraser help her to her feet and down the hall toward the receptionist. From somewhere behind the pleasant sounding lady, Meg could smell a cinnamon scented candle. She heard the sound of people in the waiting room talking among themselves. Since she'd been blinded her hearing and olfactory senses had amplified just a bit. Meg could tell the difference between Fraser's foot steps and those of Dr. Brown.
"Here's your appointment card, Ms. Thatcher." Rita, a plump nurse with dimples in her cheeks handed Fraser the card over the reception desk.
"Thank you kindly, Rita." Meg heard the older nurse giggle like a school girl when Fraser said her name.
"You're very welcome." She smiled broadly. Meg just shook her head, (more figuratively than literally).
TYKTYKTYK
