A/N: If you are looking for the smut, it's been deleted to meet the guidelines for this site. Please check it out at AO3 or WWOMB. If you don't mind a milder version, I hope you enjoy this one.
Chapter 9
As dawn broke in the Tehachapi Mountains, Johnny awoke from a deep sleep filled with vivid dreams. He sat up, still feeling stiff but not nearly as sore as the day before. Looking around the large room, he realized that he was alone. Pulling his bare legs over the edge of the bed, he looked around for his clothing. He didn't remember disrobing, yet he now found himself clothed in only his underwear. He looked down at the floor and caught a glimpse of his duffel bag, his clothing from the day before folded neatly on top. Feeling a sense of relief, his mind began to wander back through the events of the previous night.
He and James had talked in the meditation garden until the sun had completely set. They had driven back to the housing area of the compound using only the light of the waxing moon to guide them. Johnny recalled James pointing out the men's and women's dorms with the larger primary housing and worship unit in the middle. He had indicated that this larger structure was where Father Hiram resided. James had introduced Johnny to the older religious guru and the three of them had shared a few cups of hot herbal tea sweetened with honey. Father Hiram had insisted that it was his own special blend of herbs prized for their curative properties. Afterwards, he had asked Johnny to remove his shirt. The young paramedic had felt strange about doing so, but for reasons he couldn't explain, he had complied with the unusual request. He had felt awkward having his bare back touched by the bearded stranger, and felt as if he were a victim being touched during the course of an assessment. He closed his eyes, as per Father Hiram's request, and felt the coolness of the older man's hands stroking his back.
The intriguing man's touch had been light and wispy, not painful, and as the ministrations continued, his flowing graying beard brushed along Johnny's tender flesh in a way that had made the younger man shiver. Father Hiram had begun chanting in a language unknown to Johnny and soon was joined by James.
Johnny looked down at his bare feet on the smooth wooden floor, then around the empty dorm in which he found himself. The large wooden structure reminded him of the sleeping quarters at 51's. There were rows of twin size bunks flanking two walls that ran the length of the structure. In the center were a couple of rows of showers, two on each side, with half-walls that rose up about four feet from the floor. On one end of the building there were four sinks with very small mirrors over them. On the other end of the long room, there were a couple of stalls with toilets between a large metal urinal. The scene reminded him of the boys' bathroom at the reservation school which he had attended as a child. In fact, the events of the previous evening had reminded him of a ceremony from his reservation days. He surveyed his surroundings once more. 'Humph, so much for privacy,' he thought.
After relieving himself and splashing his face with water, he fumbled around inside his duffel bag in search of his toothbrush and toothpaste. His mouth was sticky and his teeth felt furry. He stood at one of the sinks for a few moments trying to remember if he had brushed his teeth before going to bed. The nightly routine had been a ritual for as long as he could remember, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember completing the task before falling asleep. In fact, he really couldn't remember much that had happened after his meeting with Father Hiram.
No matter how hard he tried, Johnny's memory was a blank slate, from the time the chanting of James and Father Hiram began, until he woke up a few minutes ago. He finished brushing his teeth, tapping his toothbrush on the edge of the sink before returning it to his toiletries bag. He looked at his face in the small mirror, noting how gaunt his features looked. He rubbed his scruffy face with his right hand, unsure if shaving was permitted here. He had only met a few of the men so far, and all of them had beards.
He spun around at the creaking sound of a door opening.
"Good morning, John. I trust you slumbered well?"
Johnny turned around, seeing James standing in the doorway. "Ahh, yea… yea, I did. I, um, I barely remember a thing."
Johnny felt the coolness of the breeze from the open door as it blew across his naked chest. He never felt uncomfortable in a semi-nude condition around the station, where he was among his closest friends, but around strangers, he felt exposed. He instinctively tried to cover himself, even more confused by the events of the previous night. He rarely slept shirtless. Generally, he slept in his boxers and undershirt. Now, he stood in front of James wearing only his boxers. "Um, I," he stammered, feeling vulnerable. "I need to, um, to get dressed," he mumbled, scrambling over to the bed in which he had spent the night.
"No worries, John. You were quite exhausted after the healing ceremony. You probably don't remember, but I helped you get undressed and into bed. We take care of each other, here. We're all family, even our guests." James closed the wooden door behind him, aware of how self-conscious his guest appeared to be in his state of undress. "I presume that your back is much improved, yes?"
Johnny pulled on his undershirt with relative ease, still aware of the bruising, but amazed that his muscles were loose and his movements relatively pain-free. "Yea… That tea must've been some good stuff."
James walked closer to the younger man, watching how easily he moved as he tugged on his jeans. "The tea only prepares your body for the healing process. Father Hiram is the great healer."
Johnny buttoned his jeans, feeling an uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach. Had something happened to him without his knowledge, or his consent? He swallowed back the bile that rose into his throat. He didn't recall being asked for permission to be treated, even if the treatment was in the form of herbal tea and chants. Something was amiss, but he was feeling too rushed by his host to ponder the mysteries of the previous night. He tucked the thought away, knowing he would be bothered by his memory loss until he was able to figure it out. He had a more pressing need at the moment; he needed to see Lily, needed to talk to her about the upcoming trial.
"It is time for the morning meal. I am sure you are hungry."
Johnny finished tying his boots, then pulled on a flannel shirt over his tee shirt. "Yea… I am kinda hungry."
E!
Chet felt the warm body lying next to him, and snuggled her in a little closer. "Mornin', baby."
Caroline adjusted her head to move her mussed up hair out of her face, then ran her fingers through Chet's hairy chest. "Mmm, wha' time is it?" It was a rare morning when the young mother wasn't awakened by an energetic three year-old.
Chet kissed the top of her head, cherishing her and remembering the beauty of their union from the previous night's activities. He twisted his wrist, prying one eye open to peek at his watch. "Humph, it's almost 9:30…," he mused. "I love you, baby. I can't wait to wake up like this every morning."
Caroline, feeling particularly frisky, giggled as she ran her fingers down his body, feeling him shiver as she neared her destination. "Uh-huh… Happy to see me this morning, aren't you?"
Chet emitted a sound that was a mixture of a groan and a growl as he rolled over on top of her, holding himself up on his elbows. "Always… But actually, I have to pee."
"Oh," Caroline commented with an exaggerated pout.
He snickered, kissing her lightly on her nose, not wanting to offend her with his morning breath. He nuzzled her neck and whispered into her ear. "But hold that thought. "Two minutes, baby. Jus' gimme two minutes," he moaned, pushing the covers off of his naked form, walking hurriedly into the adjoining bathroom.
He relieved himself of his most pressing need, then set about washing his face and brushing his teeth. Between the flushing toilet and the running water, he never heard Caroline's telephone ring.
He stepped out of the bathroom, still in the nude, and was disappointed to find Caroline's bed empty. He drew his eyebrows together in confusion as he heard her voice carrying down the hallway. He pulled a towel off the rack in her bathroom.
"Um, yes, yes, he's here," Caroline stated, turning to see Chet walking pensively down her hallway, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. "Hold on."
Chet gave her a curious expression as he accepted the telephone, grateful that she had been talking on the telephone and not to a visitor. "Hello?"
"Chet, it's Roy. I hate to bother you so early. I hope I, um, I didn't interrupt anything," Roy commented, remembering what it was like to be happily in love with no children scurrying around.
Chet felt Caroline's fingers whisking along his terrycloth-covered buttocks and along his hips, sending a shiver across his body. "I, uh-oh, um, well, I did kinda have one foot in the saddle, buddy, if ya know what I mean." He continued to squirm as Caroline continued her ministrations, enjoying watching him dance around, nearly naked in her living room.
"So wha'-uh, what's u-up?"
Roy felt the tips of his ears turning pink as he realized what was happening on the other end of the phone. "I… Well, I need to talk to you… When you have time."
"I-is sommmething wr-wrong?" Chet stammered, feeling the goosebumps covering his flesh, unprepared for the cool breeze that brushed across his manhood when Caroline stripped him of his towel.
"Well, I don't know. It's about Johnny. Just give me a call later on, okay?"
"Sure thing, DeSoto. I'll call ya inalittlewhile," the lineman spat out, rushing his friend off the telephone before he said something that might further embarrass him. Caroline's fingers were doing incredible things to him and he no longer trusted his higher brain functioning to be in complete control of his verbal abilities.
E!
"Is something wrong, honey?" Joanne asked, seeing the blush that was crossing her husband's face.
"I, uh, I don't think so." He set the receiver back into the cradle of the telephone, then looked over at his wife who had been washing dishes at the kitchen sink. Her emerald eyes radiated concern as she dried her hands on a dish cloth. "I think I might've, um, interrupted something between Chet and Caroline."
Joanne's lips slowly parted into a pearly smile. "I guess they're enjoying Corrie's trip to Disneyland with Greg and Mim."
Roy quirked his eyebrows upwards giving her a sly grin. "Sure sounded like it. I've never heard Chet stuttering like that before."
Joanne snickered, feeling her own blush as she reached for a piece of fruit. She hadn't been hungry when the kids and Roy had eaten earlier, now she was not only hungry, but wanted to send Roy a message as well. Slowly, she peeled the banana, wrapping her lips around the tip as she nibbled on the sweet treat. "Guess I answered her questions, Friday morning," she said, licking her lips as she swallowed the fruit.
A knowing look crossed Roy's face and his lower body responded to the visual cues his wife was giving him. "You didn't, did you?"
Joanne lifted her shoulders quickly, jerking her head to one side. "What was I supposed to do, Roy? She's inexperienced and needed a little… advice."
"Damn," he groaned. "If I interrupted that, Chet's gonna kill me," he said, pulling her into his embrace.
"I bet he'll be quick to forgive you. Besides, he's probably going to be one very happy man when he calls you back," she snickered, allowing her own fingers to do a little familiar probing.
"Why Mrs. DeSoto… You're trying to seduce me."
"Kids are at school, I'm not babysitting, and we're alone on your day off," she said, setting the partially eaten banana on the counter beside the sink and wrapping her arms around her husband's strong shoulders. "You bet I am."
E!
Lieutenant Ronald Crockett walked into Rampart's emergency department with a bit of a swagger. As he sauntered up to the nurse's station, he propped one hand on his hip, leaving his weapon exposed beneath his tan sports coat.
"Good morning, Ms. McCall."
Blue eyes shifted up from the chart on the counter, followed by a flirtatious smile. "Well, good morning to you, too. Here to pick up our provocateur patient?"
"Haha, I take it he isn't the most popular guy on the fourth floor, huh?"
The head nurse gave a slow shake of her head. "I hear the nurses up there are drawing straws to see who has to take care of him, especially when it's bath time," she chuckled softly.
"Well, he's got a special roommate waiting for him over at my place," the lieutenant said with a wicked grin. "He'll get what's coming to him."
Dixie reached for the telephone to dial the fourth floor nurse's station. "I'll let them know you're here. I'm sure they'll have him down here in record time."
Lieutenant Crockett waited patiently for Dixie to complete the call before he continued with their conversation. "Say, is John Gage on duty today?"
"No, I believe it's C-shift that came on this morning, but Johnny wouldn't be at work anyway."
"Oh?"
Dixie smiled softly as she relayed the details of Johnny's latest mishap to the waiting lieutenant.
"Mmm, sounds painful. You folks must've given him some potent painkillers. I've been trying to reach him on the phone and he isn't answering." Crockett hoped his fishing tactic was working on the pretty head nurse.
"He's probably still with the woman who picked him up from here. Do you know Iris Campbell?"
Crockett let his eyes wander across the counter as he pondered the familiar name. Where had he heard it before? The quick search through his mental Rolodex turned up nothing. "Hmm, can't say that I do."
"She's the florist over at Bloomers, on Alameda Avenue. She's the gal who picked him up. Maybe he stayed with her."
"Mmm," he said with a smile, just as the elevator dinged. "A little female attention may be just what that young man needs."
Both Dixie and Ron looked up just in time to see a sour-faced patient being wheeled down the corridor by an equally bitter-looking young nurse.
"He's all yours, detective," the young woman stated curtly, then shoved the yellow discharge papers into the waiting lieutenant's hands.
Crockett made a couple of soft tsking noises. "Hunley, still treating the ladies poorly, aren't you?"
Hunley, with his bandaged nose creating a thick nasal whine, grunted. "Dus' a buntz o' bit'ez," he mumbled.
"Stand up and put your hands behind your back," Ron ordered, his tone as professional as ever. He looked over at the calm head nurse, giving her a quick wink. "I think he can walk out of here under his own power." The detective leaned in a little closer to Hunley's left ear. "You'll soon have a different definition for a 'bunch of bitches' once I get you to the slammer," he whispered for Dixie's sake as he clicked the cuffs in place.
"Iz dis weally necessawee?" The patient-turned-prisoner questioned.
"Yes, it IS really necessary. It's standard operating procedure," Lieutenant Crockett blurted out as he walked Hunley towards the exit. "It's the SOP for an SOB."
E!
At Bloomers, Iris was silently cursing the lack of business on this Monday morning. She had given Caroline the morning off, allowing the young mother a rare break, since she had a morning without her daughter present. She remembered how exhausting it was to be a single mother of a toddler, and was happy to do what she could to assist her new employee.
Now though, she sat thumbing through her invoices, her eyes not really seeing the print on the forms. Occasionally, she would look over at the telephone, willing it to ring. She wanted to hear Johnny's voice telling her that he had talked to Lily and they were on their way back home. She had finally given up on reaching him, realizing that he had gone to Tehachapi in spite of her warnings about the dangers of him driving with his injuries. After all, he was a paramedic, a man educated in the field of emergency medicine. Yet, he was still her Thorn, her surrogate son, and nothing could ever remove the love and sense of responsibility she felt for him.
A few moments later, she heard the bell jingle on the front door, and looked up to see her first customer of the day.
"Hello, welcome to Bloomers. May I help you?" She asked, using her most pleasant voice as she greeted the elderly man who walked in using the aid of a wooden cane.
Outside a gold-colored sedan was stopped at the traffic light. Lieutenant Ron Crockett waited patiently for the red light to change to green. He hated hauling the disgusting piece of humanity that was handcuffed in his backseat. Then again, rarely did he ever have anyone decent riding along with him in the rear of the department-issued unmarked car.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he glanced at the flower shop on the corner. Noticing that the front sign said OPEN, he decided to deliver his prisoner to the jail, then return to talk to the owner of Bloomers. If what Dixie had told him was true, then perhaps Iris could help him locate Johnny. He had to deliver the latest news regarding William Waite to the troubled paramedic.
As soon as the light changed, Crockett accelerated through the intersection on his way to the gray cement building that housed some of the city's criminals as they awaited their day in court. One man in particular would be very interested in the newest arrival.
He pulled into a parking spot near the rear entrance and shifted the sedan into park. "Alright, Hunley. Home sweet home." His remark was acknowledged by a mere grunt from the rear seat.
Hunley was led down a long corridor and through two sets of locking doors, his hands still cuffed behind his back.
"Dis iz bu'sit," the former assistant fire chief mumbled as they approached a corner cell. He noticed that one bunk was vacant inside the small room, but the other was occupied by a thin man in a blue jumpsuit.
"Whatever you say," Crockett uttered sarcastically. He looked inside, noting that the other occupant of the jail cell was curled up on his bunk facing the wall. He rattled the keys in the lock of the cell. "Wake up… Got a new roomie," the detective called out.
The only acknowledgement he received was a slightly lifted middle finger. Crockett felt the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't know which man was going to be the most surprised, Hunley or his new roommate.
"Alright, step inside then place your hands back through the bars so I can uncuff you." He waited for Hunley to comply then clicked open the handcuffs, pulling them back through the iron bars. "Welcome to the Los Angeles City Ritz Carleton, Leonard Hunley." He stepped back, watching the two prisoners.
The sound of the name Leonard Hunley caused the other man to jerk his head up, turning it slightly to the right. "Hunley? THE Leonard Hunley?" The young man grunted as he sat up clutching his hands into tight fists.
"Yea, das m'name. Don' wear it ou'," Hunley said, not sounding at all threatening with his nasal whine.
The other man stood up to his full height, keeping his face angled towards the floor, away from the new arrival, but his voice was menacing in a thick Hispanic accent. "I been rotting in this hell hole waiting for you to bail me out, jus' like you promise. We had agreement, but you lie to me. Now you come to pay your debts to me, no?" He asked, lifting his chin slowly to eye the new arrival.
The sight of the young dark-haired man standing before him sent chills down the older man's spine. The voice had sounded familiar; he recognized the accent, but the identity wasn't confirmed until the Latino man leveled Hunley with his dark evil glare. Fear gripped Hunley's knees, cementing his feet to the place where he stood. His heart rate quickened and a fine sheen of perspiration suddenly began to ooze from his pores. In his panic, he wondered how long he would survive in the small room with the man he had used as a scapegoat, back in the early part of the summer. "Uh… Oh, g-gah… I-I ca' ezz-'pain," the cowering man muttered in a shaky voice that barely registered above a whisper, his words barely understandable due to his injury and his terror.
"Leonard Hunley, I believe you know Ricardo Gomez… You fellas play nice now, you hear?" Ron Crockett snickered as he walked back down the hallway. 'Yes sir, karma's a real bitch,' he mused.
E!
Chet kissed Caroline goodbye, then picked up his keys. He had a few errands to run and decided to stop by Roy's house while he was out.
"Have a good day at work, sweetheart," he said, his heart warm and his body completely satiated. He still couldn't believe what she had done for him earlier and he hoped she would allow him to reciprocate tonight.
"Thanks. It'll be a short day, since it's only a few hours. I'll cook us a nice dinner when I get home," Caroline remarked, loving the rosy tint in Chet's cheeks.
Even though she had been embarrassed to talk to Joanne, the older woman had been more than willing to explain things to her, and for that she was grateful. The next time she saw Joanne she was going to ask her a very important question. She felt closer to her babysitter than to any other woman, and it was time to start making wedding plans. She hoped Joanne would agree to be her matron of honor on her special day.
E!
Ron Crockett expertly parallel parked the sedan in front of Bloomers. He checked his mirrors before stepping out of the car, a habit common among law enforcement officers who were trained to be vigilant and aware of their surroundings. As he walked inside the florist shop, he saw an older red-haired woman smiling as she handed a small vase of roses to an elderly gentleman. He waited patiently for the older man to exit before he stepped up to the counter.
"Good afternoon. May I help you?"
"Yes, ma'am, my name is Lieutenant Ronald Crockett with the Los Angeles Police Department. I'm looking for Iris Campbell."
Iris felt her legs grow weak and reached for the stool behind the counter to steady herself. She propped her hip on the wooden furniture, silently praying that the officer wasn't here to deliver news of her worst fears coming true.
"I-I'm Iris… Is sssomething wrong?"
"No ma'am, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I understand that you picked up John Gage from the hospital after he was injured. I need to speak to him and I haven't been able to reach him by phone. I was hoping that you could tell me where I could find him."
Iris both felt and heard the rushing sound in her ears. This man wasn't here to tell her that Johnny had been in an accident, or even worse, that Lily was dead. She coughed a little, her mouth suddenly dry. "Ahua, um, excuse me for just a moment. I need to get some water."
As Iris stepped over to the sink behind her work counter and turned on the water, filling a glass for herself, she didn't hear the back door of the shop opening.
"Lieutenant, would you like some water?"
"No, ma'am. I'm fine. Again, I apologize for upsetting you. I really need to work on my tactics," he joked.
In the back room, Caroline was about to announce her arrival when she heard a comment that silenced her, sending chills down her spine.
"Mrs. Campbell, I really need to talk to Johnny about an old murder case. It's about to go to trial now and his testimony is desperately needed."
Iris wondered how a detective from Los Angeles was involved in a murder case that happened on the other side of the country. She finished gulping her water, reaching for the counter top to steady herself.
"I see. May I ask how you know about it?"
Lieutenant Crockett, well-versed in body language, picked up on both the verbal and non-verbal cues from Iris. "I take it you know about this case?"
"Yes, Lieutenant, yes I do. The victim was… Was my husband's younger brother."
Lieutenant Crockett looked at the paling woman standing before him. Had he heard her correctly? "Oh, um… I see… Is your husband available?"
Iris shook her head, lowering her chin to her chest. She sniffled, collecting her thoughts before she spoke, knowing why the Lieutenant had seemed confused. "He died in an accident twenty-two years ago."
Crockett rested his hand on the counter, lowering his voice. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Campbell. I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories for you."
"It was a long time ago, Lieutenant, but sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday."
Feeling the need to redirect the conversation, Crockett cleared his throat before asking his next question. "How long have you known John Gage?"
Iris looked down at her hands, knowing that Johnny wouldn't want her to divulge this much information, yet she felt compelled to do so. Her heart told her that Johnny was walking along a slippery slope and she had to do whatever she could to help him.
"I've known him for a-a long time. We met when he was just 16 years old. I was… He was with my daughter and me when Phillip was murdered. Lily, she's my daughter, and I… We didn't see the murder happen, but… Johnny did… It changed his life forever."
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Campbell. I'm sure that losing your brother-in-law was difficult."
Iris felt her chest tighten as the memory of that day flooded her thoughts. "Yes… Yes, it was. It was almost as difficult as losing my husband."
Crockett lowered his face. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Campbell. This must be hard for you to talk about."
She nodded, struggling to find her voice. She swallowed back the lump that was threatening to block her throat. "You asked me if I knew where you could find Johnny. I think he might have gone to the Tehachapi Mountains. You see… My daughter, Lily, is a member of a," she hesitated, embarrassment coloring her features. "She's involved with a cult, Holistic Unity Gardens. I believe Johnny went there to find her, talk to her about testifying at the trial."
"So you already knew about all this?" Crockett asked.
Iris nodded in affirmation. "Yes…, but Lieutenant… Johnny doesn't want his friends to know. He's… He's having a difficult time accepting the fact that he didn't intervene when Phillip was being… t-tortured and killed."
Crockett looked up at the woman on the other side of the counter. His heart bled for her now that he had a better understanding of her situation. "He couldn't have stopped them. Men like that… They're filled with hate. They would've killed Johnny, too. He has nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs. Campbell."
"You and I know that… But he feels differently. I hope you'll respect his wishes. May I ask you how you got involved?"
Crockett realized that she had shared a lot of information about herself and Johnny. He felt like he owed her an explanation. "One of the two men involved in the murder confessed it on his death bed. When the DA told Phillip's mother, your mother-in-law, about the break in the case, she gave him information about Johnny having been a witness. She said he was living in LA and the DA's office contacted my office in an effort to locate him. I met with him a couple of weeks ago, and he was considering testifying, but… Well, I knew he was afraid, and I don't blame him. I can't imagine how I'd feel going back there under these circumstances."
"Then why are you pushing him. For God's sake, Lieutenant, you're a black man, so surely you understand." She said, her face reddening.
"I do, Mrs. Campbell, but something else has happened that Johnny needs to know about. The perpetrator in this case, William Waite, has had a stroke. He can barely walk, and speaks with a slur. He isn't the threat he was ten years ago."
Iris' green eyes darted back and forth between the lieutenant's brown ones. "A stroke? Really?"
"Yes ma'am, and his buddies really aren't as strong a group as they were back in '65. Times have changed."
Iris looked down at the counter, her mind spinning with the news. "When I see him, I'll tell him. That's the best I can do, Lieutenant."
Crockett nodded his understanding. "I appreciate that, ma'am. Let me know if I can help in any way. And… I hope that your daughter returns to you soon."
"Thank you, so do I."
In the back room, Caroline trembled with the information she had overheard. She sensed that the conversation was coming to an end and decided to make her presence known. She quietly opened the back door and then closed it quickly, calling out to Iris. "Iris, I'm here."
Iris quickly stiffened her spine. "That's my employee," she said, hoping the lieutenant would understand.
"No problem," he whispered. "Here's my card, just call me if you have any contact with him," he said, turning to leave. "Thank you, ma'am."
Iris watched the detective exit through the front door just as Caroline walked in from the work room.
Caroline saw Iris staring after the departing man. She was reeling with the bits of information she had overheard, but didn't want Iris to know she had been inadvertently eavesdropping. She cleared her throat, forcing a smile onto her face.
"Thank you for the morning off, Iris. I really appreciate it."
Iris heard the comment, but made no effort to turn around. She was still watching the detective as he got into his car, his features so reminiscent of her late husband. As Lieutenant Crockett pulled into traffic, Iris allowed her chin to dip slightly, lost in her own thoughts.
"I remember what it was like to be young and in love," she said softly. "You and Chet need to spend some time together, without Corrie around." She turned around, meeting the eyes of her young apprentice and saw the concern etched in the younger woman's face. "I know you love… you both love that daughter of yours, but it's good to spend some quality time with just the two of you."
Caroline felt the heat rising from her chest, coloring her face. She quickly diverted her eyes from Iris, feeling as if the older woman could see into her soul and knew exactly what she and Chet had been up to during her morning off. She heard Iris' footsteps walking closer to her, then felt the older woman's hands firmly gripping her upper arms. When Caroline looked up, she could see that Iris' eyes were brimming with unshed tears.
"Caroline," Iris whispered, her voice raspy and weak. "Don't ever let Chet walk out of the house without you telling him how much you love him. I know he's a firefighter and he's a strong man both physically and mentally, but most men… All men have a soft spot for the woman they love. No one will ever see him as vulnerable and as weak as you will. You'll see a side of him that no one else will be allowed to see, not even the other men he works with."
Caroline stood still, feeling the light pressure on her upper arms as Iris began to stroke them gently. She didn't know what to say, and so she said nothing. She simply allowed Iris the chance to say whatever was on her mind.
"He needs to know you'll be there for him, that you'll always be by his side no matter what the future brings. Do you understand?"
Caroline pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, a nervous habit she had had since childhood. She felt her own eyes stinging as they, too, began to swell with tears. "I-I think so. We've talked about his career being dangerous, but… I love him too much to ask him to quit for me."
Iris gave a weary smile. "Good girl… The fact that he's in a dangerous profession gives you a bit of an advantage. At least you've had to think about what might happen. I never did." The older woman looked down at the counter, allowing her hands to drift back down to her sides as she walked around the work station. "The last time I saw my Jonathan alive, we were… We were having a disagreement." She released a soft chuckle. "It was stupid, really. Just a misunderstanding about what he wanted me to cook for dinner that night. He wanted me to cook a chicken pot pie and I wanted a roast with carrots." Iris reached up, brushing her fingertips beneath her eyes to remove the moisture. "Jonathan never got that chicken pot pie he wanted. He was killed on the job that same day."
Caroline turned her shoulders slightly, her eyes following the forlorn woman as she settled behind the work counter. "And… And you didn't tell him you loved him before he left for work that day, did you?"
Iris merely nodded her head, acknowledging that what Caroline was assuming was in fact true. "People can be taken from you in an instant Caroline. Don't ever forget that. Always tell them how you feel because you never know when it might be your last chance." Iris sank onto the stool behind the counter. "Recently, I let my… Someone very close to me leave and didn't say all the things I wanted to say to him. Now, I don't know if I'll see him again."
Caroline swallowed hard, wondering if the person Iris was referring to was John Gage. Quickly she ran through the details of the conversation she had overheard, trying to put together the pieces, but knowing she couldn't ask Iris for the details. After all, if Iris wanted her to know, then she would have told her.
"I hope you do, Iris. I hope you do have the chance to tell him how you feel."
Iris looked from the counter top, up to the place where Caroline stood. She offered a weak smile, sniffling as she fought through her tears. "Me, too. Now, why don't you and I look through some of these catalogs?" She asked, pushing a couple of floral magazines in Caroline's direction.
"Why?" The younger woman asked, puzzled.
"Because my wedding gift to you and Chet will be your flowers."
"Gift?" Caroline asked, unsure if she had heard correctly.
"That's right. It doesn't look like I'll be able to create a bridal bouquet for my own daughter. I don't know if she'll ever get married, or… Or even invite me to the wedding if she does. But if you'll accept it, I'd love to create a special arrangement for you to carry on your wedding day. In fact, I'd like to be your florist. I'd love it if you and Chet would allow me to decorate your venue. My treat, my gift to you both."
"But, that'll cost so much. I mean, I really appreciate it, but it's a lot of money and-"
"And I want to do it, Caroline. Please allow me, won't you?"
"You'd really do that for me?" The younger woman asked, feeling her own tears beginning to flow.
Iris reached across the counter flipping open the first catalog. "Yes… I've grown to care a lot about you, Caroline. You're a wonderful young woman. Now, what do you say?"
Caroline nodded her agreement, but instead of looking down at the pictures, she rushed around the corner of the counter, enveloping Iris in an embrace. "Thank you, Iris. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."
E!
Chet wheeled his van into the DeSoto driveway, shifting into park and stepping out into the mid-day sunshine. He had had several errands to run and had decided to make the short trip over to Roy's house to speak to him in person. He had a bounce in his step as he walked onto the small porch and knocked on the wooden front door.
Roy heard a vehicle pull to a stop in his driveway while he was changing the oil in Joanne's car. He called out from behind the raised hood. "In the garage!"
Chet bounded around the shrubbery, tapping the trunk of the car lightly with his fingers as he walked closer to the front of the vehicle. He couldn't erase the grin that had been plastered on his face all morning. "Hey DeSoto. So, what's up?"
Roy finished pouring the quart of oil into the reservoir, dreading coming face to face with Chet. Not only did he know what Chet and Caroline had been doing when he interrupted them, but he also still had a bruised and swollen eye socket. He could already hear the jests coming from the young lineman.
"Well… It's about Johnny," Roy said, knowing he couldn't hide beneath the hood forever. He reached for a rag to wipe the oil from his hands then slammed the hood down. When he peaked over at the side of the car where Chet stood, he got the exact reaction he assumed he would get.
"Whoa! Damn, man. What the hell Joanne do to ya?"
"It wasn't Joanne," Roy said flatly, glaring at the annoying Irishman.
"Okay, then, uh," Chet stammered, rubbing his chin with his hand. "Um, what does the other guy look like?" He asked with a snicker.
"About six foot one, dark shaggy hair, skinny, and has a crooked smile," he deadpanned.
Bushy eyebrows knitted together in confusion as Chet pondered the unusual response he had gotten from his friend. Then his eyes widened as he began to stammer almost as badly as he had during his earlier phone call with Roy.
"Wa-wa-wait a minute, buddy. Are you talkin' 'bout Gage?"
"Yep, my partner decked me," Roy confirmed. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
Chet ran a hand through his curly hair. He gave a slight chuckle, trying to lighten Roy's obviously depressed mood. "Sure, need some help with your moves from ol' Chester B.?" Chet asked, raising his fisted hands, assuming a boxer's stance.
When Roy didn't respond, Chet knew the situation was serious. "Aww, man. I'm sorry, Roy. I shouldn't have said that. So… What's going on with him?"
Roy leaned his hips against the side of the sedan he had been working on. He looked at his friend, trying to decide the best way to broach the subject. Deciding there was no good way, he chose to forge on ahead. "Chet, how much do you know about Iris Campbell?"