Page 6 of The Good Luck Cafe
Moira exhaled as she hurried out of her car, crossing the lawn toward the front porch. “Great. Where is it?” she asked, taking the steps two at a time.
“It’s on the kitchen counter.”
Moira froze behind the front door. “What? Why is it there?”
“That’s how I let myself in,” he said.
“Well, is there any way you can come to the door, Doug?”
“I don’t think so. My ankle really hurts, and I’m feeling shaky.”
Moira didn’t like the sound of that. Was Doug going into shock from the pain? If his ankle was broken, that was a real possibility. She looked around, trying to decide how to get inside the little yellow house. She could break a window, but that seemed extreme. Maybe she could pick the lock.
“Maybe you can fit through Goldie’s doggie door?” Doug’s voice was growing notably quieter.
“Doggie door? Where is that?”
“At the back door.”
Moira jogged behind the house and let herself in the fence. Then she climbed the deck steps and looked at the doggie door in question. She would fit, but if anyone found out, she might never live this down.
“Please hurry.” Doug moaned softly. “I need my medicine.”
Without another thought, Moira dropped to her knees and started crawling. “Hold on! I’m on my way, Doug!” She stuck her hand inside the doggie door first, planting it on the cold tile floor inside, screaming as something wet and slimy slid across the back of her fingers. Moira quickly withdrew her arm, heart ballooning into her throat.
“That was Goldie. Please help me,” Doug said.
Okay. I can do this.Moira stuck her arm through the doggie door again, and this time she followed with her head and her body, coming face-to-face with a large dog that ran its tongue over her cheek. Moira pulled the rest of her body through the door, glancing around for Doug.
“Over here!” he called.
“Good dog.” Moira patted Goldie’s head as she stood. Then she hurried over to the man lying on the floor near the kitchen counter. “Hi, Doug.” Moira squatted next to him and inspected his foot, noting the pockets of dark purple swelling on both sides of his ankle. She gently palpated around the bone of his ankle.
“Ow!”
“Sorry. It doesn’t appear to be broken. It does look like a bad sprain though. I’ll get you an ice pack.” Moira headed over to Gil’s fridge, noting all the photos of Doug and him attached to the surface with magnets. Gil had always been like best friends with his brother. It was something she admired. Growing up, she’d had a lot of friends who refused to hang out with their younger siblings, but not Gil.
Locating an ice pack in the side door of the freezer, she carried it over to put on Doug’s ankle, crouching beside him. “You mentioned needing a medication. What kind of medicine are you taking, Doug?”
“Orange juice,” Doug said matter-of-factly.
“Orange juice?” Moira furrowed her brow. “That’s the medicine you were talking about?”
He pointed at the fridge. “For my blood sugar.”
“Oh. Okay.” Moira stood and walked over to the fridge. She opened the door and pulled out a carton of juice, setting it on the counter. Then she checked the cabinets and located a glass. Once she’d filled the glass halfway, she handed it to Doug, watching as he drained the entire thing in one huge gulp.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” he finally said. He didn’t look as pale anymore. A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips.
“Just doing my job,” Moira said. But going to a caller’s home wasn’t her job. Her job was to stay on the dispatch. Would she get in trouble for this? Or even fired?
The sound of the front door opening and closing got Moira’s attention.
“Doug?” a man’s voice called.
Moira immediately felt her face flush. She knew that voice well. She’d just heard it this morning when she’d been unnecessarily rude.
“In the kitchen!” Doug’s voice no longer sounded shaky or weak. The orange juice really had made an immediate difference.
