Thirty-Three and a Half Shenanigans
Page 68
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He laughed. “I wish I could have seen that.”
“Is he that bad? He took Neely Kate back to her car by my office. Maybe I should have taken her instead.”
“No, he’ll be harmless to her. If anything, she’s liable to chew him up and spit him out.”
The door opened, and a doctor entered the room.
“It’s about time,” Mason muttered.
“You need to be patient, Mason,” I said in a low voice. “What happened to your usual patience?”
“It’s nonexistent when it comes to hospitals.”
The doctor introduced himself and said, “You’re not the first man to be eager to escape this place, and you won’t be the last. Let’s see what we can do to get you on your way.” He put on a pair of gloves before he poked and prodded.
Mason grimaced a few times but kept silent.
“You have two choices,” the doctor said. “I can stitch it, and there will be a slight scar, or we can get a plastic surgeon in here to work on it. There’s no guarantee it won’t scar with him, but it will probably scar less.” The doctor grabbed a mirror and handed it to him. “Why don’t you have a look at the position of the gash before you decide?”
Mason examined the wound, which was diagonal across the left side of his forehead.
“I’m fine with a slight scar. You can stitch it.”
“It will give you roguish look,” I teased.
The doctor chuckled as he began to work. When he finished, Mason was eager to go. “Can I get dressed now?”
The doctor stopped in the doorway. “We’re waiting for the CT scan results. It should only be about another half hour or so.”
After the door closed, I moved close to him, examining the doctor’s work. I counted five stitches. “What on earth are you so eager to get back to?”
“Nothing,” he said a little too defensively, hopping off the table. “But after my last stay, I can’t stand being in the hospital. The sooner I get out of here, the better.”
I studied him for a second. He was keeping something from me. “It sounds like you still have a bit of time to kill.” I glanced at the clock. “It’s after two o’clock, and you have to be starving. How about I go to the cafeteria and get you something to eat?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. Just let me take care of you. You take care of me all the time.”
He grinned. “Okay.”
I went to the cafeteria to pick up a couple of sandwiches and chips, and by the time I got back, the doctor was back in the room talking to Mason.
“You have a mild concussion, but I don’t think it’s something to be overly concerned about. Just have someone keep an eye on you to make sure you’re alert and that you’re not slurring your speech or that your eyes are unevenly dilated.”
“I can do that,” I said. “I’ll be with him.”
The doctor nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll go get your discharge paperwork started.”
I handed Mason a sandwich after the doctor left, and my head got fuzzy.
Suddenly I was in a dark hotel room. The door burst open, and the sound of gunshots filled the room. Pain and pressure exploded in my chest.
I gasped as Mason’s face came back into focus. “Someone’s going to shoot you.”
Mason’s eyes widened. “What?”
My head ached, and I felt like I was going to be sick. “I just had a vision. Someone’s going to shoot you.” My legs began to shake, and he grabbed my hand and set me down on the gurney.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Start from the beginning.”
I told him everything I’d seen, my voice breaking. When I finished, he didn’t look all that surprised.
“Mason, why is someone trying to kill you?”
The door opened before he had the chance to answer. I expected it to be one of the hospital staff, but Joe stood in the opening instead, wearing his sheriff’s uniform. He nodded to me, then turned his attention to Mason, his eyes hardening. “How are you doing?”
“Rose had a vision.”
Joe’s eyebrows lifted. “Why do I think it wasn’t about what you’re having for dinner?”
“Mason was shot,” I said.
“Tell me.”
I told him everything, my head still hurting. “There’s something else,” I said. “Remember the vision I had at the Burger Shack? The one that made me feel bad afterward? That’s how I feel now.”
“What do you think it means?” Mason asked.
I took a deep breath. “I think that vision had something to do with someone trying to kill Mason too.”
“Remind me of what you saw in that earlier one,” Joe said.
“Eric was sitting in the front seat of a car next to a guy. The guy asked, ‘Are you ready?’”
“That’s it?” Joe asked.
“Do you remember anything about the car?” Mason asked.
My shoulders tensed. “I don’t know.”
He took my hand. “Yes, you do. Close your eyes and think about it.”
“It was two days ago, Mason. I might not remember anything.”
“You won’t know unless you try,” Joe said.
He was right. “Okay.” I closed my eyes and concentrated, and was gratified when the image I’d seen started to fill my vision. “It was an old car. It had a big dashboard and a long front hood. Kind of like Miss Mildred’s Cadillac.”
“Is he that bad? He took Neely Kate back to her car by my office. Maybe I should have taken her instead.”
“No, he’ll be harmless to her. If anything, she’s liable to chew him up and spit him out.”
The door opened, and a doctor entered the room.
“It’s about time,” Mason muttered.
“You need to be patient, Mason,” I said in a low voice. “What happened to your usual patience?”
“It’s nonexistent when it comes to hospitals.”
The doctor introduced himself and said, “You’re not the first man to be eager to escape this place, and you won’t be the last. Let’s see what we can do to get you on your way.” He put on a pair of gloves before he poked and prodded.
Mason grimaced a few times but kept silent.
“You have two choices,” the doctor said. “I can stitch it, and there will be a slight scar, or we can get a plastic surgeon in here to work on it. There’s no guarantee it won’t scar with him, but it will probably scar less.” The doctor grabbed a mirror and handed it to him. “Why don’t you have a look at the position of the gash before you decide?”
Mason examined the wound, which was diagonal across the left side of his forehead.
“I’m fine with a slight scar. You can stitch it.”
“It will give you roguish look,” I teased.
The doctor chuckled as he began to work. When he finished, Mason was eager to go. “Can I get dressed now?”
The doctor stopped in the doorway. “We’re waiting for the CT scan results. It should only be about another half hour or so.”
After the door closed, I moved close to him, examining the doctor’s work. I counted five stitches. “What on earth are you so eager to get back to?”
“Nothing,” he said a little too defensively, hopping off the table. “But after my last stay, I can’t stand being in the hospital. The sooner I get out of here, the better.”
I studied him for a second. He was keeping something from me. “It sounds like you still have a bit of time to kill.” I glanced at the clock. “It’s after two o’clock, and you have to be starving. How about I go to the cafeteria and get you something to eat?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. Just let me take care of you. You take care of me all the time.”
He grinned. “Okay.”
I went to the cafeteria to pick up a couple of sandwiches and chips, and by the time I got back, the doctor was back in the room talking to Mason.
“You have a mild concussion, but I don’t think it’s something to be overly concerned about. Just have someone keep an eye on you to make sure you’re alert and that you’re not slurring your speech or that your eyes are unevenly dilated.”
“I can do that,” I said. “I’ll be with him.”
The doctor nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll go get your discharge paperwork started.”
I handed Mason a sandwich after the doctor left, and my head got fuzzy.
Suddenly I was in a dark hotel room. The door burst open, and the sound of gunshots filled the room. Pain and pressure exploded in my chest.
I gasped as Mason’s face came back into focus. “Someone’s going to shoot you.”
Mason’s eyes widened. “What?”
My head ached, and I felt like I was going to be sick. “I just had a vision. Someone’s going to shoot you.” My legs began to shake, and he grabbed my hand and set me down on the gurney.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Start from the beginning.”
I told him everything I’d seen, my voice breaking. When I finished, he didn’t look all that surprised.
“Mason, why is someone trying to kill you?”
The door opened before he had the chance to answer. I expected it to be one of the hospital staff, but Joe stood in the opening instead, wearing his sheriff’s uniform. He nodded to me, then turned his attention to Mason, his eyes hardening. “How are you doing?”
“Rose had a vision.”
Joe’s eyebrows lifted. “Why do I think it wasn’t about what you’re having for dinner?”
“Mason was shot,” I said.
“Tell me.”
I told him everything, my head still hurting. “There’s something else,” I said. “Remember the vision I had at the Burger Shack? The one that made me feel bad afterward? That’s how I feel now.”
“What do you think it means?” Mason asked.
I took a deep breath. “I think that vision had something to do with someone trying to kill Mason too.”
“Remind me of what you saw in that earlier one,” Joe said.
“Eric was sitting in the front seat of a car next to a guy. The guy asked, ‘Are you ready?’”
“That’s it?” Joe asked.
“Do you remember anything about the car?” Mason asked.
My shoulders tensed. “I don’t know.”
He took my hand. “Yes, you do. Close your eyes and think about it.”
“It was two days ago, Mason. I might not remember anything.”
“You won’t know unless you try,” Joe said.
He was right. “Okay.” I closed my eyes and concentrated, and was gratified when the image I’d seen started to fill my vision. “It was an old car. It had a big dashboard and a long front hood. Kind of like Miss Mildred’s Cadillac.”
