Benjamin Baker couldn't believe his eyes. She popped her front tire on the curb turning in to the station too fast and too soon. Cherie got out of her car and was walking towards him with an uneven gait. She was covered in blood. Her hand was wrapped in a rag.
"I need to buy a first aid kit. Cut myself shaving," Cherie made an attempt to chuckle but when she raised her hand to indicate to Ben where she was hurt, the rag slipped down enough for her to see the cut. The sight of her bleeding hand made her woozy. Ben caught her before she hit the asphalt.
"Jesus! She fainted! Mike! I'm gonna run her over to Alpendorf's. Dr. Bramley's limo is there!"
"Dr. Bramley is a shrink. What's he gonna do? Ben? You aren't actually going to RUN her over there?" Mike scratched his head at the odd sight of Benjamin running down Appleblossom Highway with the girl in his arms. It looked nutty but it probably was faster than getting her around back to his car. He was half way there already. Ben didn't spare the energy to yell back to Mike that Dr. Bramley had a pharmacy in his trunk, that he'd seen it when he was checking the spare tire. There was enough medication in there to knock out everybody on the mountain, not that Cherie needed knocking out.
"Jesus Cherie, what happened to you?" Ben wondered if she was as light as she felt in his arms. She was like cotton candy. Maybe he was in shock and that made her feel weightless. Ben hated himself for noticing how great she looked in her Jordache jeans. God she was beautiful. He wanted to kiss her.
"Dr. Bramley is getting his bag from his car. Put her on the sofa in the lobby. What have you done to this girl, Benjamin, you oaf!" Edda met them at the door. Mike called her.
Bramley checked her vitals. He disinfected the wound, injected around it to deaden it and stitched it together. He was a medical doctor before he became a psychiatrist. He didn't feel the need to explain to anyone why he carried the amount of medical supplies that he did.
"Glass or metal, my dear?" Bramley asked Cherie when she came around.
"What?" she wasn't sure what he meant.
"Did you cut yourself on glass or metal?"
"Metal," Cherie answered.
"I'm going to give you a tetanus shot so you don't get lock jaw, my dear," Dr. Bramley prepared the needle.
"Why type of metal cut you?" Dr. Bramley asked as he injected her in the upper arm.
"I was opening a can of chili," Cherie lied.
"Well, I think we should get you to the hospital just to be on the safe side. You probably need an IV or two," Dr. Bramley began putting his equipment back in his medical bag. He knew she wasn't telling the truth and the look on his face made it clear to her that he didn't believe her for a minute.
"Thank you doctor but that won't be necessary. How much do I owe you?" she suddenly realized her purse was back at the house. She'd taken off without it.
"Nonsense, my dear. You were out cold. You must have lost a lot of blood," Bramley insisted.
"Dr. Bramley, I can assure you it wasn't the amount of blood. I fainted because I simply cannot stand the sight of blood. A drop is enough to drop me. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a sissy that way," she tried to be charming but she simply could not stand Bramley. There was something oppressive about him.
"Well then, if you won't go to the hospital, I insist upon your having dinner with me. I'm assuming you didn't eat any of that chili that attacked you. We'll get some food and fluids into you and if your color comes back, you're free to go," Dr. Bramley pressed the matter.
"Cherie! Everybody is waiting for you. We knew something happened when you didn't show up. Dad sent me out to fetch you. Mike said Ben brought you here. Thanks for patching her up doc. Come on Cherie, let's go! Everybody is starving! Dinner's getting cold and we're not going to cut the cake without you," Lewis appeared out of nowhere and whisked Ben and Cherie away. Dr. Bramley didn't ask Cherie why she was bothering to open a can of chili if she was on her way to a party. There was no time to ask her. Lewis had Cherie in one arm and Ben in the other. He was a fast talker and a fast walker.
Cherie sat between Lewis and Ben in Ben's car. Once they were on the road they all burst out laughing. There was no cake. No party. Lewis just jumped in and made it all up. He'd seen Cherie's car up on the grease rack at Ray Moon's. Mark patched the tire, checked the steering and even cleaned the blood from the door and steering wheel. He told Lewis what had happened.
"I know what kind of fluids Bramley wanted to get into you," Ben groaned.
"That is so disgusting!" Cherie winced.
"Ben, you drive Cherie's car to her house and I'll drive you back to the station." Lewis suggested.
"Thanks for rescuing me, both of you," Cherie sighed. If she had to chose between rescues, she'd rather bleed to death than have dinner with the overbearing doctor. Ben could sense that Cherie was more grateful to Lewis that she was to him. He felt low as he drove her car to her house and even lower when he rode back to Ray Moon's with Lewis. He was going to lose her to Lewis and Lewis didn't even really want her.
When Ben's shift was over he didn't throw his work shirt in the laundry hamper. He changed into his street clothes and stole the shirt with Cherie's blood on it. If anybody noticed one of his uniforms was missing, he'd just say he threw it away because the blood had ruined it. Nobody would find fault with that.
~ To Be Continued~
Two weeks before the first snow of the season, before the fire that destroyed George and Marilyn's second hand furniture store, Cherie Solange appeared with everything she owned packed in her VW Bug.
She bought a cute green and red apple-shaped salt and pepper set and a copy of the local paper at the Alpendorf Gift Shop and had pancakes and scrambled eggs at the Alpendorf Cafe And Bakery. She was on her second cup of coffee when she found an affordable rental listed in the real estate section. Sixty dollars a month for a house, furniture and utilities included.
She had to stop and buy a local map at Ray Moon's gas station and market because she couldn't find Margaret Fayette Belle's place on any of her road maps.
"Do you know where Margaret Fayette Belle's place is?" Cherie asked the young gas station attendant who was checking her oil and filling her tank.
"Huh?" The attendant had to think a minute. "Oh, you mean Old Lady Belle. She owns more property up here than anyone else, except God. The main way people get lost is mixing up Apple Road with Appleblossom Highway. Once you're on Apple Road you take it on up this way till it ends. If you take Apple Road the other way till it ends, you'll end up at the monastery. There's a chain gate you don't need a key for but close it anyway because it irks her if you don't. Then follow the dirt road till it runs out right in front of her place. She'll be there. She don't go out much anymore. She sends her driver Willy Weeks out for everything she needs. That's him over there loading her groceries in that goddamn limousine. Just wait and follow him up to her place. He won't mind."
"Thank you. You've been very helpful," Cherie felt like this was her lucky day.
"Anytime. My name is Ben. Next time you come in you're gonna need a quart of oil. You're good to go now though," Ben smiled at her. She was the prettiest girl he'd seen in a long while.
Cherie followed Willy Weeks to the end of Apple Road. They spoke when he got out to open the chain gate.
"You up here to see Miss Belle about the rental?" Willy nodded politely to acknowledge Cherie's presence.
"Yes. Yes I am." Cherie answered.
"Drive on up ahead of me. I'll close the gate for you. It's heavy as hell. I don't know why she won't let me put up a new one. It's just her way. It's how she is."
"Thank you, Sir," Cherie nodded back.
"Oh, no need to "Sir" me. Just call me Will," he knew she'd end up calling him Willy because that's what Belle called him, but it was worth a try.
"Thank you, Will," She got back in her car and drove up the winding dirt road.
Cherie rented the little wooden railroad house sight unseen. She told Miss Belle that she was interested in the solitude the area provided because she dreamed of becoming a writer.
"Well, then you're going to need a desk. The house comes furnished with a kitchen table but you need a proper desk if you're going to be a writer." Miss Belle opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a ream of paper and plopped in on her desktop. "Here is my contribution to your career, Miss Solange. I'll have Willy help you with the desk."
"Oh, that won't be necessary. You've been too kind already," Cherie held the ream of paper to her heart to express her gratitude.
"Willy! I'll put the groceries up! You help Miss Solange get a good deal on a desk at George and Marilyn's. They don't pay anything for half their inventory, so don't let them charge you more than twenty five dollars." Miss Belle hollered.
"How are you going to see where to put the groceries up, Miss Belle, with them big old cataracts of yours?" Willy hollered back.
"Don't sass me! I'm not blind yet and you know it. Bring the truck around and help Miss Solange or I'll fire you. You're too ugly to get a job anywhere else. You'll starve to death!" Miss Belle winked at Cherie. "At our age bickering is the only exercise we get. We can't go jogging like you young folks. Willy will follow you to your new home. Here are your keys. After you see the place and lock up, he'll take you to George and Marilyn's to pick out a desk. Get something with character, something Ernest Hemingway or Mark Twain would like."
There was barely room to walk in George and Marilyn's APPLE OF YOUR EYE home furnishing shop. There was a narrow winding path that you could not see the ending to. It was like a hedge maze only it was made of furniture stacked on top of furniture all the way to the ceiling.
"Is anybody here!" Willy shouted.
"Out back!" George shouted, "We are unloading the truck!"
Cherie and Willy walked around to the back of the store where George and Marilyn were fretting over their latest load of treasures. Immediately they were struck by the sight of a roll-top desk perched on the edge of the truck, gilded by the golden orange light of the late afternoon sun. They looked at it and then at each other.
"It's too expensive," Cherie whispered.
"No it's not. It's twenty five dollars. There's probably four more just like it buried in that rat's nest. It's fate that this one is just ripe for the picking. George isn't going to bicker with Miss Belle. Half the stuff in his store probably comes from her rentals anyway," Willy whispered back.
Willy had the two wheeler in his truck to easily move the desk into Cherie's house.
"Well, if anything goes wrong with the plumbing or electric call the house and we'll take care of it. The phone works. Miss Belle pays for all the utilities. Rent is due on the first. Keep the garbage locked in the shed so it don't attract bears. The garbage collector has a key. Good night now, Miss Cherie," Willy closed up his truck.
"Good night, Will. Please thank Miss Belle again for me," Cherie waived from her porch.
"One down and everybody else to go," Willy couldn't help but smile as he drove away. She remembered. She called him Will.
~ To Be Continued ~
