LJ Maas - Rebecca’s Cove

“Let’s take a look at this, Ms. Warren. First, you want me to arrest the woman who, on her own time, fixed your leg up so it would heal properly. The woman who is paying for all your medical bills. You want me to fine her ?”

BJ looked around the room and knew she was getting out of hand. She could see herself as if she were standing in a corner of watching the whole scenario. She could see herself acting like a complete ass but was powerless to stop her actions. How could so many bad things happen to one person in so short a time?

“Surely, the police force knows how to write out a ticket here in Mayberry.” BJ sneered. In her defense, her ankle was really beginning to hurt and she just wanted to go home and sleep. “You do give tickets here, don’t you?”

Hobie winced at the biting remarks and wondered how she could have possibly been attracted to this arrogant woman. She found it almost impossible to believe this was Evelyn’s granddaughter. She watched Mack to see how he would handle this attack on his reputation. As always, he was unflappable.

“Well now, Ms. Warren, that’s the first sensible thing you’ve said today. I think a ticket is definitely in order. Since I didn’t witness the incident, I’m going to go on the evidence I have.” Mack reached around to the small of his back and pulled a short thick binder from where he kept it tucked into his duty belt. He walked over to Hobie, flipped open the book, and extracted a ticket that he had written earlier.

“Hobie Lynn.” He handed her the citation. Hobie opened her mouth to disagree, but Mack stopped her. “And don’t try to argue. You had the right of way and couldn’t have stopped the accident, but she’s a pedestrian and you, above everyone else, know the law.”

Hobie closed her mouth. She hated it when Mack was right, especially since he so often was. She stuffed the ticket in her pocket and folded her arms across her chest. BJ Warren looked like the proverbial cat after the untimely demise of the canary. Hobie had an intense desire to go over and smack the self-satisfied expression off her face. She had no idea where that feeling came from. She was such a passive, nonviolent person. Hobie was about to have the last laugh, however.

Mack returned to BJ’s gurney and pulled out another ticket. “This one is for you, Ms. Warren.”

“Wha—” BJ stared in dumb silence at the slip of paper in her hand. Everyone in the room knew it was the calm before the storm.

“I think I better go reschedule some of those patients,” Laura said as she slipped out the door.

Hobie noticed that Cheryl was quick to sneak out, as well. Cowards! she thought.

“Are you insane?” BJ’s voice carried all the way out to Main Street. “She tries to kill me...vehicular manslaughter…and you give me a ticket for reckless endangerment? I was crossing the street, for God’s sake, and she came barreling—”

“She had the right of way,” Mack interrupted. “Ms. Warren, there’s a reason there’s no jaywalking, which you were guilty of and why there is a stoplight at that intersection. It’s a blind corner. The light turns red for cars in the left lane, but cars in the right lane have a green turn arrow. If you’d been in the crosswalk, crossing with the light instead of against it, you wouldn’t be lying here right now. Let me tell you something else. You may not remember me, Baylor, but I remember you. Afew words of advice. Lose the attitude and try to get along with folks while you’re on the island. If not, I’ll personally escort you off Ana Lia.”

After a short moment of silence, BJ squinted at Mack. “Should I know you?”

“Not necessarily. I knocked you down when you were eight years old. You made my sister cry.”

They eyed each other for a few seconds more before BJ backed down from Mack’s unnerving gaze. “We all do goofy things when we’re kids,” she muttered. It was apparent that BJ had run out of steam.

“Why don’t we see about getting you home? Hobie Lynn, is that safe?” Mack asked.

“Sure. I’ll get her some pain pills and write out some instructions.”

“Where are my clothes?” Baylor lifted the blanket to reveal her attire—a hospital gown.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, but we had to cut those jeans off you,” Hobie said.

Before BJ could start another rant, Mack stepped in. “I’ve got a pair of sweatpants in the trunk. You can cut off one of the legs if you want. Don’t worry, they were just washed,” he added before BJ could respond.

“Lor,” Hobie called out to her assistant. A head peeked into the room. “Run over to the gift shop and get Ms. Warren a clean shirt she can wear home, okay? Tell Allison to charge it to me.” Hobie turned back to BJ. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

BJ arched an eyebrow. “You buy me a T-shirt and that’s supposed to make it better?”

Hobie sighed. “Let’s get you fixed up with some crutches.” Twenty minutes and fifty milligrams of Demerol later, BJ

was dressed in Ana Lia Sheriff’s Department sweatpants and a hospital gown. She had finally quit fighting Hobie and allowed her to instruct her in the art of walking with crutches. At first, BJ didn’t get the idea that just because she had a cast on her leg didn’t mean she could put any weight on her foot.

Hobie bit her lip and took a few deep breaths to keep from lashing out at BJ’s outspoken and often cutting remarks. She had learned a great deal about her patient within those twenty minutes, concluding that Baylor Joan Warren had no idea that her remarks were anything other than the truth. She didn’t see them as hurtful or cruel. It was as if, somewhere along the line, BJ had become convinced that she was morally or intellectually superior to those around her. Hobie wondered if BJ had been a spoiled child or if this arrogance had been gradual in the making. She couldn’t understand how one woman could feel her needs were so far above everyone else’s.

Laura appeared at the door, but Hobie noticed that she hesitated to come much closer. “Um...the gift shop was closed, but the bakery was open.” She fiddled with the paper sack in her hands.

BJ fixed one of her patented cold stares on Laura. “I think wearing éclairs home may cause talk.”

“Well, they had this deal. If you bought this,” Laura pulled some fudge from the paper package, and BJ’s mouth watered at the sight, “then you got this!” She produced a hot pink muscle tee from the sack.

No words were necessary when BJ held the garment up to her chest. Blazoned across the front in big black letters was the bakery’s touristy slogan, “I was FU...dged on Ana Lia Island.”

“How appropriate,” BJ deadpanned in Hobie’s direction. Mack agreed to take BJ home in his squad car. Hobie dispensed

enough medication to carry her through until the next day, then gave the pills to Mack and whispered a few words into his ear.

“I’ll come by and check on you tomorrow, Ms. Warren. That is, if you can stand the sight of me for a few more days till the doc gets back,” Hobie said.

“I’ll be counting the hours.” BJ winked at Hobie as Mack helped her to the car. Hobie knew that the Demerol had worked its way into her patient’s system; BJ Warren’s charm was back in full force.

“Boy, you sure know how to pick ’em,” Laura said. “You were right about that night. She must have been pretty smashed not to remember you. Good thing you found out what she’s really like.”

“I guess that voice of mine was right this time. Dear God, she’s like Jekyll and Hyde.” Hobie massaged her temples to combat the slight dizziness she felt. The stress of the situation hadn’t helped her physical condition. “How about running to the Cove and picking up some dinner? I can’t go on till I get some food in me.”