Page 7 of The Cottage on Plum Island
Her face was pale and strained, as if the exertion of walking across the busy parking lot of the hospital had exhausted her.
“I’m fit as a fiddle!” Betty assured him and was saved from saying more when a nurse told them they could see Sam.
Harley knew her words weren’t true when Betty let him help her to Sam’s room and help her into the chair, he positioned beside Sam’s bed with another one to put her leg on.
“How are you doing, Uncle Sam?” Harley asked, feeling like the third wheel in the room.
“Impatient!” Sam grumbled. “I want to get out of here and sleep in my own bed where I’m not bothered every few minutes the entire night.” He shook his head. “No wonder people don’t get better in hospitals. They don’t allow us to rest!”
Wow, Uncle Sam really is hating it here.Harley watched his uncle. “I’ll talk to the doctor,” he promised. “The only other time I saw you so grumpy waswhen you broke your hip.”
“Bruised!” Sam corrected him. “I kept telling everyone it was just a bruise, but the next thing I knew, they were replacing my hip with some plastic metal thing.” He scowled. “Maybe it’s good that the nurses and doctors wake me every few hours. At least I can ensure I don’t wake up with a metal spine, halfway to becoming Robo-Cop!”
Harley bit his lip, trying not to laugh at his uncle’s outrage at a picture of the tall, still-fit-for-his-age man as Robo-Cop.
“Oh, come now, Sam!” Betty tutted. “You’re getting the best care here.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Besides, if they make you into a cyborg, at least you can fix my roof without fear of getting hurt.”
Betty’s grin was Harley’s undoing and he laughed. Not even his uncle’s stern stare could stop him.
“When you’re done having a laugh over my predicament,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest, “would you be so kind as to find a doctor to get me out of here?”
Harley quickly cleared his throat and got his humor under control. “Sure.” He nodded. “Can I get you a coffee or something from the cafeteria while I’m out?” He looked at Betty.
“I could drink a coffee,” Betty told him.
“How about a whisky?” Sam said.
“Sure, Uncle Sam, I’ll get right on that!” Harley said, walking to the door, where he stopped and looked at Sam. “Do you want your coffee with or without milk?”
“With milk today,” Sam told him.
Harley nodded and left the room, walking toward the cafeteria. While he was waiting in line, his phone rang. Harley pulled it out of his pocket, frowning when he saw it was his ex-wife, Angela’s mother, Margaret Wesley.
What has Angela done now?Harley sighed and toyed with the idea of ignoring the call, but his conscience got the better of him. “Hello, Margaret.”
“Hello, Harley.” Margaret’s clipped tone warned him what she was about to say would not bode well with him. “Where are you?”
“Why are my whereabouts any of your concern?” Harley asked her.
“Because Angela has escaped and left a note for the nurses at the facility telling them she’s gone to visit Sam in the hospital!” Margaret’s words sent shock waves down his spine. “What’s wrong with Sam?”
“He fell and hurt his back,” Harley told her, rubbing his eyes, and sighed. “I’ll find her.”
“See that you do.” Margaret hung up.
Harley stepped out of the queue and was about to go back to Sam’s ward when he heard his name being called from the hospital gardens.He turned and saw Angela walk toward him with an arm full of flowers she’d picked from it.
“I have flowers for Sam!” Angela smiled, holding them out to Harley. She was dressed in pink scrubs she must’ve stolen from the nurse’s station at the institute and was not wearing any shoes. “I remembered he loved wildflowers.”
“Thank you, Angie.” Harley’s voice softened, and he took the flowers. “How did you get here?”
He started guiding her out of the cafeteria.
“I walked,” Angela told him, her eyes going toward the treats. “Oooh, can I get a pie?” She looked at him pleadingly. “They won’t give me pie at home.”
Harley’s heart squeezed as she called the mental health facility she was in home.
“Sure.” He nodded. “Let’s get you some pie.”
