The Daily Novel

Chapter Six

Lauren punched the time clock and stifled a yawn as she went to the nurses’ station. A tall, red-haired nurse was finishing up charts from the previous shift. “Good morning,” Lauren said. “Any new admissions or problems during the night?”

“One admission. Mild heart attack. He’s in 319,” the redhead answered.

“How about Mr. Oliphant? He was having a great deal of pain yesterday afternoon.”

“All quiet.”

Lauren rolled her head on her shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness from sleeping in the chair all night. “Thanks. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee from the lounge. Want one?”

“Unh-unh. My molars are floating already.”

Lauren found Donald Arrington sitting in the lounge, elbows on the table, his head in his hands. “You okay?”

Donald looked up, bleary-eyed. “Just tired. Bob kept me up all night.”

Lauren spilled coffee down the side of the Styrofoam cup she held. “Oh,” she said tonelessly.

Donald saw the blush rise to her cheeks. “No, no . . . not what you’re thinking. His back was really bothering him.”

Lauren giggled, embarrassed.

“Since you have your pretty little mind in the gutter this morning, how was your lunch date with the dashing Doctor Tolson?”

Lauren thumped the back of Donald’s head with her index finger. “He seems very nice.”

Smoothing his hair down, Donald winked and, in the tone of a sports announcer, boomed, “It’s a sharp hit to left field, folks, and Tolson is on his way to first base!”

“You want to get thumped again?” Lauren asked. She tried to paint a serious look on her face but failed.

“So, when are you going out?”

She raised the cup to her lips. The coffee smelled as though it had burned to the bottom of the pot then been reconstituted with additional water. It tasted even worse.

“Saturday week. Why? Want to double date?” Lauren teased.

“Heavens, no! It would just be too strange to see my little nurse chum playing the giggly female . . . hanging on Doctor Ben’s every word . . . discussing the birds and the bees.”

Lauren smirked, thumped Donald again, and headed for the door. As it closed behind her she heard him say, “Buzzz!”

It turned into one of those days. Not particularly rushed, but steadily busy. Before she realized it, her shift was over. Now came the tough part of the day. She drove downtown to the bus station to meet the sister and niece who were almost strangers.

The bus station stood between two boarded-up, condemned buildings in a section of downtown long overdue for renovation. Lauren parked at the curb, dropped a quarter in the meter, and headed toward the entrance. A man lay on the sidewalk, curled in a fetal position. The neck of a liquor bottle protruded from the rumpled brown bag clutched in his sleeping hand. Lauren stepped around him cautiously and entered the station.

Less than a dozen people sat in the waiting area, their suitcases placed securely between their feet. The bored ticket clerk informed Lauren, when she asked, that the bus from Charleston should be on time. Half an hour later she watched the bus pull in. Two men stepped off, followed by her barely recognizable sister and a young girl with large, dark eyes and straight black hair.

Cathy wore a faded red blouse and a black skirt. The skirt stretched tightly across her hips and ended inches too short for her chubby frame. Her hair was a harsh, dirty yellow shade not found in Nature’s color spectrum. She looks like a down-on-her-luck hooker, Lauren thought, with a twinge of guilt.

Jennifer, however, could have been a poster child for innocence.

The driver manhandled luggage from the storage compartment on the side of the bus as Lauren took a deep breath and pushed through the glass door to the outside. Cathy saw her and ran awkwardly toward her, hampered by the snug skirt. She dropped her scarred suitcase, captured Lauren in a tight bear hug, then held her at arms’ length. “Lauren! You look great . . . still so petite and cute!”

The stale smell of unwashed hair and body assailed Lauren’s nostrils. She could think of nothing polite to say. She finally settled on, “Well, you made it.”

Jennifer held back timidly. Lauren stepped forward and hugged the girl. “You’ve grown up since I last saw you.”

Jennifer blushed. Her lips curved upward in a hesitant smile.

“She’s a little shy at first,” Cathy said. “but when she loosens up, she’ll talk your ears off.”

“Are we ready? Got everything?” Lauren asked, seeing only two suitcases.

Cathy nodded. “We travel light, Sis.”

Lauren led them to her car and stowed the bags in the trunk. Jennifer folded her long legs into the back seat. Cathy slid in up front with Lauren. “Nice car,” Cathy said, running her hand across the dashboard.

“Thanks,” Lauren said, checking for traffic and pulling away from the curb. She had barely reached the end of the block when Cathy dug in her purse, fished out a slightly bent cigarette, and lit it. A white fog of smoke surrounded Lauren. She coughed.

“Bother you?” Cathy asked.

“Actually, yes . . . I’m sort of allergic.”

Instead of snuffing the fuming cigarette out, Cathy cranked her window down two inches and took another drag. Not five minutes and my first problem with Cathy has arisen, Lauren noted. In the rear view mirror, Lauren saw Jennifer fanning smoke away from her face. Their eyes met. Jennifer shrugged and rolled her eyes heavenward. “How far to your apartment, Aunt Lauren?”

“Just call me Lauren, okay, hon? Unless you want me to call you ‘Niece Jennifer’,” Lauren joked. “It isn’t far. But I don’t have an apartment. I bought a house a couple years ago.”

“Must be making good money?” Cathy said with a question in her tone.

Having no intention of discussing her finances with Cathy, Lauren said, “The real estate market was soft, and I found an anxious seller. I got it for several thousand below market value.”

Cathy gave Lauren a confused look, not certain if her question had been answered. It was a look Lauren remembered seeing on Cathy’s face a lot when they were younger.

Cathy flipped her cigarette out the window, leaving a scattering of gray ash on the upholstery. Lauren’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Even in the back seat, Jennifer felt the tension in the air.