Waking Amy (Amy #1) Read online

  After getting a decent meal and buying out the “Relationships for Dummies” section, I carried my loot into the hospital for my nightly vigil by my husband's side. It's amazing how you live life never going to a place, then you find yourself spending the night there. The hospital was a world where people existed, but you didn't realize it until you were unfortunate enough to join the club and spend time there yourself. I jumped on the elevator like an old hand and pushed number four. I was so much more at ease than the night before. I was wearing an actual zipper in my pants, a long-sleeve cotton top, and a sweater that made me feel comfortable no matter where I was. It was still missing the bottom button, which I had placed prominently on my list to do, but never did. The elevator chimed and the doors opened. I looked at the face of every doctor I passed on my way to Wesley's room, searching for Mark's. It was a mystery why I felt light-headed with the thought of him answering another question.

  A few of Wesley's co-workers stopped by that evening, but they only stayed a few minutes. With Wesley unconscious and me not knowing what to talk about, they had little reason to stay longer. Rusty, the tall, lanky guy who came over for dinner on occasion stood by the foot of the bed, teetering from his left foot to his right. I had nothing more to say than that we'd have to invite him over again when Wesley was out of there. He shyly nodded, smiled, and did a heavy sigh before strolling out. Wesley had explained that Rusty worked in HR, and if I wanted him to get a promotion, Rusty would be joining us for more meals. After dinner, no one else showed up.

  I was two hours into the glossary terms of what made a good marriage, when I dumped the pile of books and started perusing my magazine stack. They certainly weren't the ones I normally bought. Cooking Light and Coastal Living was passed over for the, “What does your man want in bed?” ones. The articles were candid with explanations and erotic pictures. Diagrams and male surveys that gave me premature hot flashes. I felt unsure of the reason that the magazines weren't encased in a plain brown-paper wrapper.

  What does a real guy want? The guys in the articles didn't resemble anyone I could identify with. Wesley wasn't like the guys in any of those scenarios. He certainly never came across as ever wanting to role-play as exotic animals, along with whips and chains. Who were these people? I needed someone I could relate to. The thought entered my mind just as Mark Reilly entered the room. He was wearing a purple button-down dress shirt and matching tie, although the tie hung loosely around his neck by now. It was seven o'clock, and I imagined he had been at the hospital for a while.

  “Hi, Amy. How are you this evening? I see you look more comfortable.” He stopped mid-way to Wesley's bed, to look at the pile of books on and around my chair. “Wow! Did you bring the bookstore with you?”

  I kicked some of the books under my chair and closed the top of the bag to the other five I hadn't started. “No. I got a little bored last night, so I brought some light reading material.”

  Mark stepped closer and picked up one from the ground, appropriately titled, What A Man Wants and What a Woman Needs.

  “Light reading? Tell me how this one turns out. Sounds like a page turner.” He handed it to me and went to Wesley's chart.

  “I have a question.” I bit my lip and folded my hands, fidgeting like a child about to ask for something I knew I'd never get.

  “Shoot.” He opened Wesley's eyelids and shined light into each of them.

  “What would you say to letting me interview you?”

  “Excuse me? Are you a writer, a columnist? What did you say you did for a living?”

  “I didn't. I'm a clerk for the justice department.”

  “Then why would you want to interview me?” He jotted something on the chart and turned toward me. “I don't have a criminal past. The last speeding ticket I got was overturned because my odometer was malfunctioning.”

  “No, it doesn't have anything to do with law or the justice department.” I nervously laughed. “I would want to find out what makes a woman attractive to a man. What makes you, for example, walk into a group setting, say a party, and zero in on one woman? Is it her outfit? Her body language? I need to know and do all of whatever it is. Specifically, for my husband.” I found myself standing at the foot of Wesley's bed, gesturing like a politician. My pleading eyes waited for his response.

  “I don't see that you have a problem. You are attractive, and he did marry you. I think you're safe in assuming that meant he wants you. What else could you want to know?”

  I walked over to the door. “Can I talk to you outside for a moment?”

  Mark followed me. I pulled the door shut behind us. “You said he might be able to hear things. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

  He ushered me to a supply closet, two doors down. I figured he was a regular in there. He closed the door. Shelves reaching to the top of the ceiling were spilling over with supplies: sheets, pillows, those little yellow plastic dishes they give you when you're going to puke, and bed pans. I hoped they weren't recyclable. The last thing I wanted dangling over my head was something someone had used under their butt and then hosed down, to use again. It smelled like an infirmary of disinfectant and commercial laundry detergent. I tried my best to keep focus.

  We were forced to stand close to one another, meager air space between our chests. Our shoes even touched at one point. His cologne mixed with every breath of air I drew in, and I could see he was staring at the tiny light-colored freckles that dotted the bridge of my nose. Maybe this room is a little too private.

  “My husband, you know the guy who is lying in there, left me a note last night.” I stammered, hoping I could get out the rest of it. “He left a note saying that he was leaving me.” The words, hearing them out loud, made me want to cry. I refused. I had broken down enough in front of this guy.

  “Don't you see? He said he didn’t love me the way he should. This is my chance to change. To be the wife he wouldn't leave. I need you to show me how to be that girl. The type of girl you seem to chase after. I need to be one of them. Please, for the sake of my marriage, help me. I have nothing if I lose Wesley. And, whether he realizes it or not, I'm all he has.” My words left us both standing in a pool of my desperation.

  Mark's eyes managed to escape my intense stare. He hesitated before delivering the blow. “I can't.”

  “What? Why can't you? I'm begging you.” My desperate tone changed to anger. “You could let me plead like a beggar and then leave me with not even a remark of sympathy for my plight? What kind of man are you? Didn't you hear me? I said Wesley wants to leave me.” I leaned even closer, piercing him with my irate stare, and demanding an explanation.

  “I can't help you. I don't know how. He's a fool if he leaves you, but I can't help you.” Mark turned and began to open the door. I pushed it shut. Amy, what are you doing?

  “I will pay you. What do you say to two hundred bucks? I figure it's probably what you make an hour, but it's all I have in petty cash for this month's budget. I can pull more from my Christmas savings. Whatever it takes. Please help me. I don't have any other guys that I could ask. In fact, there isn't a guy in my entire department at work, unless you count Jerry. And he's like sixty years old, and his clothes smell like mothballs.”

  “I can't.” Mark pulled the door back open and disappeared from the room. I stood there feeling defeated. Two men, two rejections, and in just two days. He must know all there was to know about women. They seemed to be his favorite pastime. There wasn't a moment that one wasn't standing around him, batting her eyes and offering him whatever, whenever. I had no one else to ask what it took to be seductive, and I wasn't willing to give up that easily.

  I walked out of the closet in time to hear some woman raising her voice at the nurse's desk. “I know Mark Reilly works here. Let me talk to him. I'm not leaving until I talk to him.”

  I paused a moment to look at her. This one was a brunette. She was short with curly hair. It had seen better days, swept up in a barrette too small to accommodate the
thickness. Some of the stray hairs stuck out like straight pokers around her cheek line. Her face was probably pretty when she wasn't wearing such a mean scowl. Her lips were colorless and she kept licking them. Perhaps a nervous tick, or perhaps she was dehydrated from all the yelling.

  “Ma'am, this is his work. I would suggest you wait until he gets off to talk to him. We have sick people here.” The older nurse obviously knew Mark's reputation and had practice with irate female visitors.

  “I would call him if he ever returned my messages. Now if you don't page him, I will go room to room.” The girl was obviously jilted, in search of closure or his ripped-out heart. She pounded the desk with her index finger.

  It was like the scene from the book I'd just finished. The main guy, Blake, pretended to be married in order to escape crazy women he used in one-night stands, just like the girl at the nurse's station. In the end, it didn't turn out so well. Jenny, a crazy stalker, found out his true identity and shot him four times in the chest. Or, was that the Lifetime movie I watched last month? I couldn't be sure. I was an avid television watcher as much as a book reader, living the lives of the characters I in no way identified with.

  Mark came around the corner at that moment and escorted her to the kitchen area. I had an idea. If I could help him out of a jam, maybe he would be more willing to help me. Without thinking twice, I grabbed a sheet from the supply closet and went to Wesley's room for my coat. My heart began to race.

  The crazy woman was raising her voice, causing a few nurses to come out of their rooms to see what the commotion was. “Mark, I've been calling and leaving messages. You can't just think you can leave me. I won't be left.”

  I strolled into the kitchen wearing the wadded-up sheet under my lightweight coat. I appeared to be eight months pregnant by the size of my midriff and full-sized bedding I was storing.

  “Mark? Who is this? Don't tell me you did it again? I warned you. I'll smack you with divorce papers and child support so fast your head will turn.”

  Mark stared at me briefly with a look of bewilderment. The problem with my plan vs. an episode of Desperate Housewives was that the TV show was rehearsed with scripts. Mark had no idea what I was doing. He finally caught on and said his lines. “Honey, don't get upset. I promise I'll never do it again.”

  I could breathe again, but the girl was speechless. She looked me up and down with heavy artillery in her eyes and began using her pointer finger to get his attention. “Who is this, Mark?”

  I grabbed his arm. “I'm his wife. Now, take your scrawny ass out of here and never come to his work again. Or you'll be helping raise my child. You got it?” WTH? Had I lost my mind?

  Her eyes darted from Mark to me until reason kicked in, and she turned and left. I did hear a few unsavory words puffing from the sides of her mouth as she walked away. I suddenly felt nauseous and faint. Mark looked at me with complete shock. “I can't believe you just did that.”

  “Mark?” A voice came from the hallway. A female, older voice. She came to the door and looked at both of us. I turned and pulled the thin, warm sheet out from my jacket.

  “Mark, is there a problem with the person who just left?”

  “Mrs. Willis, I didn't know you were coming this evening.”

  I turned around and smiled, although my nerves were puking inside from my new take on reality television. What was I doing? Was there an alien takeover of my personality? Who was this girl? Short of having a good time, I felt like the principal had just come in to sentence me to in-school suspension.

  “I never announce my visits. That's how I find my husband's doctors and nurses to be themselves. Now, did I hear correctly, is this your wife? I know it's been a while, but it certainly hasn't been that long. Don't tell me that you finally shook off that bad-boy persona and settled down?”

  Mrs. Willis's voice projection, her straight posture, and the way she peered over the tops of her glasses, looking me up and down, scared me. Mark looked at me. A crossroads of right or wrong reflected in his pupils. “Yes, this is Amy.”

  Mrs. Willis extended her hand to me. “My name is Martha Willis. I'm the wife of Dr. Richard Willis, the hospital Chief. I hope you don't have to do that all the time.”

  I stammered. Was the woman referring to lying or amateur acting? “What?”

  “Having to chase all of Dr. Reilly's admirers away can be a full-time job, I'm sure.”

  I smiled, but my heart was palpitating uncontrollably. Sweat had even started beading on my brow. One lie chased another as they continued to fall from my lips. “It's fine. Some girls are so crazy. I have a feeling she won't be the last. This guy has quite a history.” Did I just fall onto the set of General Hospital?

  I grabbed Mark's arm to seem more authentic in my new role as ass-kicking, pregnant doctor's wife. Who knew in the span of a day, a car wreck, and a “Dear John” letter, I'd be able to locate my alter ego? A good kick in the butt could do wonders to get someone to behave differently.

  “That's precisely why he hasn't been considered for promotion in quite some time. The hospital has a reputation to maintain, even if its doctors are not pulling their fair share of integrity. I was hoping our bad boy would settle down one day. He's one hell of a good doctor. I would love to see him with a new title as Chief Resident. And with a family, that would help, I'm sure.” She touched Mark on the shoulder with approval and stared at my now flat belly, trying to see through my coat. Mark looked down at the puddle of cotton on the floor behind me.

  “I've only had to chase off a few of his old girlfriends. It's not really a problem. I suppose that one escaped her padded room, that's all.” My insides shook from the endless lies. Isn't it illegal to lie to people in upper management?

  “She's a funny girl, Mark,” Mrs. Willis said smiling. “I want you to bring her to the country house this Saturday. I'm hosting a spring brunch and wine tasting. Of course, you can pass on the wine, Amy. By the way, why wasn't I told of a wedding and, certainly, a pregnancy?”

  Mark stuttered out a response quickly. Lying, no doubt, came naturally to him. “It was a spur of the moment. Just a justice of the peace. Amy wanted something small, and she's been away for a few months. Her grandmother needed her in Vermont, so we haven't been in the city in a while. No one really knows about the baby. She's only three months along.”

  Two days, two rejections, two husbands, and now a baby. Lots to keep straight.

  “Well, I will expect you both Saturday. If you don't have off, make sure you do.”

  “Saturday won't be a problem. Mrs. Willis, have you, I mean, has Dr. Willis made a decision on Chief Resident yet?”

  “No, but I hear there's stiff competition.” She winked at Mark and stepped back into the hallway to join her husband.

  My swallow was audible. “What just happened?”

  “You're the one with the baby in your coat. What were you doing?” Mark took a giant step away from me. His face was the color of his lab coat.

  I peered down the hall, my knees still knocking together. Was it possible to get one of those puke dishes? I thought I was going to be sick. I saw that the two powerhouses had cleared the area and were probably descending down the elevator shaft to spy on another floor. “Keep your voice down. I thought I was saving your butt from the crazy lady, so you would help me be a seductive wife for my husband. Who was that woman, just now?”

  “That was your ticket to my help. She's the wife to the Chief, and I'm up for promotion. Actually, I've been up for it for two years. And since it seems we're married and having a baby, your attendance is needed for Saturday. I'll think of a way to divorce you after that, I guess.”

  “I think she likes the fact that you aren't a playboy any more. Playboys never get promoted. They don't have the stability it takes for tenure. I'm pretty sure that's why Wesley's gotten all the promotions that have come up. That and I have the HR rep Rusty, the guy who can eat four pork chops and still want more, at my house for dinner three times a year.”

&n
bsp; “All right. You come along with me Saturday, and I'll teach you to be a seductress for your husband. But why did you bring a baby into it? How will I explain a divorce and no child when all this is over?”

  “Hey, I tried to shed the sheet. Mrs. Willis had been standing there longer than I thought. And you’re welcome, by the way. I did it for that nut who was stalking you. I watched a movie, and it was how this guy handled women who paid unexpected visits to his work. He always told them he had a family. It worked for the most part. Just don't ask how it ended. You could always say I got custody of the baby and moved to Brazil. Now, when do we start? I don't know how long he'll be asleep. I need to get this ball rolling.”

  “I get off tomorrow morning. I need to sleep a few hours. What about after lunch? Meet me at the Plaza around two?”

  “Deal. And, I don't want you to hold anything back. I want you to make me so irresistible that even you'll be disappointed that I'm not your baby momma!” I smiled adorably, showing off the innocence with my dimples. Mom said I could get away with murder when I used them.

  Chapter Four

  I checked on Wesley before my appointment with Mark. Still no change. It was as though God had paused my marriage, giving me another chance to get things in order for when the play button was pressed. As if He was saying, “Go and get a new outfit or two, something in blue. (Blue is Wesley's favorite color.) While you're at it, have that Mark fellow give you some inside tips on what a guy wants in a woman.” Okay, so I know God’s not that shallow, but that didn’t mean human nature wasn’t at times.

  I drove to the mall with more anticipation than I knew what to do with. If this worked, it could change my life. If Wesley found me attractive again, I would feel attractive, like the way I did when Mark told me I was pretty. And maybe Wesley and I could think about having a family. Begin moving forward and get off the human gerbil-wheel we'd been spinning on for the last few years. My stomach fluttered at the mere possibility of rising out of this funk I was in.