Love Lies Bleeding: A Novel Part 9
Chapter Nine.
Anne stomped into her house and threw her bag on the nearest chair. She'd had it. Samantha Moore was impossible. She'd overlooked the young woman's contrary att.i.tude while she used every ounce of experience she had to help her, and what does Sam do? Ignores her pleas for caution and falls off a porch, wrenching her right ankle. Anne tugged at her thick braid in frustration. Then she had the audacity not only to argue with Greg as he carried her in and out of the car, but to kick Anne out after she'd settled her in bed.
How in the h.e.l.l did she think she could manage? Anne had half a mind to let her try. Call Lawrence Moore and tell him she quit. Working at a bar and handling drunks had to be easier than dealing with that woman. No, wait-the care facility over in Hankton. Sure-the salary wouldn't be as high, and the cost of driving the eighty-mile round-trip would take out a chunk, but it would be better than putting up with Samantha Moore's drama. She'd drive over there tomorrow and at least check it out.
She paced into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator. No, she couldn't do that. She'd never abandoned a patient before, but G.o.d, it was tempting. She'd go back to the cabin tonight, but keep the idea of resigning in mind. It wouldn't hurt to ask around. Maybe she could find another patient. Hearing the front door slam, she turned to see Caleb stride into the kitchen. He took one look at his mother's face and skidded to a halt.
"What's wrong?"
Anne blew out a long breath. "Sam fell," she said, shutting the door, "and-"
"Is she okay?" Caleb's eyebrows shot up. "Did she fall during therapy?"
"She'll be fine. It's a minor injury and should be okay in a couple of days. And no, it happened at Greg's . . . long story."
"You know, Mom, people around the lake are talking about her."
"Who?"
Caleb shrugged. "Esther Dunlap-"
Anne cut him off. "You haven't been charging at Dunlap's again, have you?"
"No. I paid cash," he replied defensively. "But I ran into someone down there and they were asking me all about Miss Moore. They said they'd heard stuff about her from Mrs. Dunlap and Mr. Thorpe."
Figures, Anne thought with disgust. If Fritz mentioned his encounter with Sam to Esther, she would've pa.s.sed his tale along to everyone she knew. And once the story hit the rumor mill, the degree of Sam's antisocial behavior would've grown with each telling.
"Who wanted to know about her?"
Caleb's gaze wandered around the room as he refused to meet her eyes. "Just someone."
Anne knew immediately who'd been quizzing him. "Teddy Brighton."
"Yeah," he said quickly, returning his attention to her, "but I wasn't hanging out with him. I just ran into him at Dunlap's."
She eyed him with skepticism, making him squirm.
"Honest. I only talked to him for a couple of minutes."
"I hope that's true, Caleb," she replied sternly. "And I hope you didn't tell him anything I've told you about Samantha Moore."
"Nah, he seemed more curious about where she was living. He said he'd heard something about the woman who used to live there and his grandfather. He said-"
Blanche Jones and the first Theodore Brighton. Anne held up her hand, stopping him. She'd heard those stories, too, but she didn't intend to discuss old gossip with her teenage son. She had enough to think about dealing with the present; forget about something that happened decades ago.
Anne reached up and tousled Caleb's hair. "I have to go back and I'll probably be spending the night," she finished, trying to keep the dread out of her voice. "You'll be okay here alone?"
"Ah, Mom," Caleb replied, dropping his chin. "I'm not a little kid."
"I know, but I don't want you doing anything stupid."
His head lifted. "Like what?"
"Like inviting Teddy over."
"Mom, forget about Teddy," he argued. "You told me to stay away from him and I have." He scuffed a tennis shoe across the floor. "Besides, Teddy's too busy entertaining a bunch of his city friends."
"Good," she replied emphatically. "Let them get in trouble instead of you."
"Mom-" He cut himself off and chewed on his lip. "Why didn't you tell me you talked to Mr. Thorpe?"
Anne looked away, missing the sudden light in Caleb's eye.
"He said you don't want me to play in the Fourth of July concert," he continued.
She waved away his words. "I didn't think you'd have the time to practice, what with your job and getting ready for your senior year."
"But-"
The sudden ringing of the phone interrupted him. Happy to end the conversation, Anne grabbed it on the second ring.
"h.e.l.lo."
"Ms. Weaver?"
"Yes."
"I'm Joseph Marshall with Scott County Bank-"
Anne's hand on the receiver tightened.
"This is in regard to your Visa payment," he continued.
Glancing at Caleb, now perusing the contents of the refrigerator, she walked slowly into the living room as she kept her voice low. "I made a payment last week."
"Yes, I see that," the voice on the phone answered smoothly. "But were you aware that your minimum payment has increased?"
"No," she answered as her heart picked up its rhythm. "How much?"
"It's now one hundred and fifty dollars and-"
"But that's doubled," she cried.
"You were sent a notice," he replied calmly.
"I can't afford that."
"You do have the choice of paying off the entire amount."
"Sir, if I can't afford a hundred and fifty, what makes you think that I can afford a couple of thousand?"
"I'm sorry, Ms. Weaver, but if you can't catch up on the payments, we'll have no choice but to turn the matter over to a collection agency."
A wave of nausea hit her. If the bank turned her bill into collections, it would ruin her credit rating, and make it impossible to get any loans for Caleb's college.
"Which will it be, Ms. Weaver?"
"Can't you give me more time?"
"You have ten days," he answered.
Anne hung up without replying. Walking over to the couch, she sank down and buried her face in her hands. What did she do now? So much for telling Lawrence Moore she quit. Maybe, just maybe, if she saved every dime, with her check from the Moores, she and Caleb could squeak through the summer and she could pay the extra money on her credit card. Then this fall, if she got her job back at the hospital, they'd be okay.
"Mom?"
Anne dropped her hands and turned to see Caleb standing in the doorway, holding a thick sandwich.
"Who was that on the phone?"
She couldn't let him see her fear. Schooling her face, she pinned on a tight smile. "Telemarketer," she lied. Slapping her thighs, she stood. "I'd better get going. I don't want to leave Sam alone for too-"
The jangling of the phone interrupted her again. Great, probably the bank calling back with more threats. Angrily, she grabbed it. "Yes?"
"Anne? Lawrence Moore here."
Anne rolled her eyes. The old saying "when it rains, it pours" sprang to her mind. She'd hoped to avoid discussing Sam's little mishap with her father, but evidently it was too late for that. Sam probably called him to complain the instant Anne had left the cabin.
"Mr. Moore," she said, motioning Caleb out of the room, "I'm so sorry about Samantha's fall." The words came rushing out. "It all happened so fast and-"
"What are you talking about?" he barked. "What fall?"
"Uh . . . well . . . she didn't call you?"
"No," he answered tersely. "I think you'd better explain yourself."
"Samantha's fine," she hurried on. "Just a little sprain. She tripped going down some steps and twisted her right ankle. We have ice on it and it will be okay in a couple of days. I'm on my way back over there now."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
"I see," he finally said. "And where were you when this happened?"
"I was there," she answered defensively, "but not close enough to prevent the fall."
"Need I remind you that you're being paid not only to help my daughter with her therapy, but also to keep her safe?"
"No, of course not, Mr. Moore. I a.s.sure you I don't take my responsibilities lightly, but really there wasn't much I could do. She-"
"I'm afraid, Ms. Weaver," he said, cutting her off, "that this incident will require us to seek someone else to care for Samantha."
"You're firing me?" Anne gasped.
"We can't afford to have your inattentiveness impede Samantha's recovery."
"Mr. Moore," she began.
"We'll expect you to continue you duties through this weekend," he interrupted, not letting her finish. "I'll send you a check next week."
The line went dead.
Anne stared at the silent phone in the palm of her hand. She thought back to her earlier plans to quit. Well, she didn't have to worry about that decision anymore. Lawrence Moore had made it for her. What if she couldn't find another summer job? She'd have to dip into her savings account to make it through until the hospital called her back this fall . . . if they called her back. And now there was that d.a.m.ned Visa bill. No matter how she looked at it, it meant less money for Caleb's college. After all her years of careful planning, her dreams for his future were slipping away. Tears sprang to her eyes. It wasn't fair. She'd worked so hard to give Caleb the chances that she'd thrown away when she'd been his age.
Pinching the bridge of her nose to hold back the tears, she placed the phone on the coffee table. Sitting here bawling about her problems was pointless. Maybe she had been fired, but she was still responsible for Samantha Moore at least until the weekend and she needed to get back to the cabin. She wouldn't give Lawrence Moore another reason to accuse her of being derelict in her duties. She'd start her job search tomorrow. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to convince Sam that she should stay the night.
Anne stood in the doorway of Sam's bedroom, watching her read a magazine. Finally the girl looked up and frowned.
"You're back," she stated flatly, returning her attention to the magazine. "I told you I wanted to be alone."
"Tough," Anne replied in a hard voice. "Your ankle needs to be kept elevated, so I'm here to wait on you . . ." She paused. "At least for the rest of the week. After that, you can argue with someone else."
Sam placed the magazine on the bed and c.o.c.ked her head. "You're quitting?"
Placing her shoulder against the door frame, Anne crossed her arms over her chest. "No, I've been fired. Your father thinks I've been *inattentive,' so I'm done Monday."
Sam shook her head. "No, you're not."
"Oh yes, I am," Anne exclaimed, pushing away from the door. "Your father was quite clear on that score. I'll fix you a tray then put more ice on your ankle."
Plucking at the bedspread, Sam tugged on her bottom lip. "My father changed his mind."
Anne's eyebrows shot up. "When?"
"He called after talking to you." Sam's eyes narrowed. "Why did you tell him I fell?"
"I thought you'd already told him."
Sam gave a small grunt. "Not likely. In case you haven't noticed, my father has control issues. The less he knows the better." Her mouth tightened in a grim line. "I'm trying to convince him that I can take care of myself, and telling him that I fell isn't the way to do it. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that in mind."
"Let's go back to the part about me not being fired-" Anne stopped as a small, satisfied smile crept across Sam's face.
"It's the first time in a long time that I've won a battle with him," Sam said in a wry voice. "It was lovely." She shook her head again and the smile disappeared. "I convinced him that I wouldn't work with anyone else."