Jazzed Page 2

  Charlie sat up. “Think he’ll make it?”

  “Hard to say. I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Just what is so special about this one?”

  Charlie swung his legs off the bunk. “Honestly, I don’t know. He just has—an aura about him.”

  “With all due respect, I think you need some shut-eye, Charlie.”

  “Very funny. I’ll get some sleep after I check on the patient.”

  Charlie was soon walking among the rows of wounded soldiers. He stopped at the bedside of a slim, gaunt young man who appeared to be not much younger than he was. The soldier’s eyelids fluttered and opened, the only movement on the bruised and battered face.

  Charlie tried to hide his amazement. After two days of watching the soldier hover between this world and the next, he smiled and exhaled in relief. Maybe he would make it.

  “What’s your name?” Charlie asked, his lips close to the soldier’s ear.

  “Shooter. My friends call me Shooter,” the raspy voice whispered before drifting back to sleep.

  “Sure thing, Shooter,” Charlie murmured as he placed his fingers on the man’s right wrist to check his pulse. “I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.”

  Charlie returned to his bunk, this time stopping to remove his shoes and stripping to his skivvies before sliding under the sheet.

  “Dear God,” he prayed, silently, “please watch over Shooter and keep him and all the others safe. Calm their fears and give them hope. Grant me the skill and knowledge to heal their wounds. Guide them safely home. Amen.”

  Soon he was asleep.

  Long before daybreak, Charlie was back among the wounded, slowly walking from bunk to bunk and checking the vital signs—body temperature, pulse, blood pressure, and respiratory rate—for each patient.

  “Shooter, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Charlie joked as he found the soldier sitting up and attempting to drink water.

  Shooter grimaced.

  “If I look the way I feel, the sight of me could ruin your eyes.”

  Charlie smiled. The man had a sense of humor.

  “Do you remember what happened?” Charlie asked in part to test the man’s memory but also to find out a bit about him.

  “Not much, really. I know I’m lucky to be here. We were defending the airstrip. Japanese kept shelling. One minute I’m praying, and the next an explosion rips through my chest.”

  Blood began to seep through the bandage wrapping Shooter’s torso.

  “Where you from, Shooter?” Charlie kept talking, an attempt to hide his growing concern while loosening the moistening bandages.

  “The Midwest.” Shooter groaned when the bandage separated from his body, pulling his skin. “I was in school at Ohio University when Uncle Sam came a-calling. I have sort of a yearning to settle in New York, though.”

  “The City?”

  Shooter nodded.

  “Why?” Charlie hoped the questions would take Shooter’s mind off the pain.

  “Curiosity, I suppose. And the music. I’ve heard they play jazz all night long.” Shooter sighed. “Now, that I’d like to hear.”

  “Jazz. All night? I’d like to hear that too.” He wondered if the music could sound as beautiful as crickets on a New England night, a breeze rustling through treetops, or the soft clucking of the hens in the henhouse.

  Satisfied the blood wasn’t a sign of the soldier’s worsening condition, Charlie wrapped a clean bandage around Shooter’s chest and promised to return later in the day. “I want to hear more about your plans for New York City.”

  “It’ll be your turn to share, next time,” Shooter said, slowly closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

  ****

  The bell on the door jangled as Annie and Alice stepped inside The Cup & Saucer.

  Alice inhaled and released the breath with an exaggerated moan of ecstasy. “Oh, I feel like pancakes today,” she said, eyeing a plate of the tantalizing breakfast treat decked out with melting butter and whipped cream on a nearby table.

  “Funny, you don’t look fluffy and round to me,” Annie teased.

  Alice didn’t miss a beat. “But I might—if I keep eating pancakes like they’re going out of style.” She tore her eyes from the pancake plate and searched for a table.

  Peggy Carson, attired in her pink waitress uniform and sensible shoes, looked just a bit frazzled as she breezed up and nodded at a recently vacated corner booth.

  “Hi, you two! Have a seat. I’ll be there to wipe off the table in a jiff just as soon as I unload these,” she said, hoisting four egg-laden plates lined up her arms.

  “How do you suppose she does that without depositing eggs and bacon on the floor?” Alice asked, watching with obvious admiration as Peggy maneuvered through the crowded tables.

  Annie moved toward the corner booth. “Impressive strength and coordination,” she said.

  The two women slid into the dark green vinyl seats just as a large group of people walked in the door of the already crowded diner.

  “I do believe everyone in Stony Point had the same idea this morning,” Annie said, looking at her watch. “I hope we get our food quickly enough to make it to A Stitch in Time … on time.”

  Peggy dashed up on cue with a rag in one hand and two cups on saucers balancing on the other. “I’m glad a table was available for you. It’s been nonstop for two hours.” She wiped the table with several quick strokes and placed the coffee cups at each place.

  “I’m glad too. If we’d have waited too long, Alice might have swiped pancakes right off a plate you were delivering to another customer,” Annie teased.

  Alice laughed. “Moi? Would I do a thing like that?”

  “You’d have to catch me first.” Peggy grinned and reached into her apron for two sets of silverware and placed them on the table. “I’ll be back with your coffee.”

  Annie and Alice watched Peggy cross the room to the drink station and grab a coffeepot. She returned in a matter of seconds.

  “Two coffees?” Peggy began pouring the steamy liquid into the cup nearest Annie before she nodded. “FYI, we have a new project waiting for the Hook and Needle Club. Betcha don’t know what it is.”

  “Betcha we do too!” Alice quipped.

  “We do?” Annie looked confused.

  Disappointment clouded Peggy’s eyes for a second. “You do? I thought nobody knew yet, but—” Peggy stopped talking when Alice burst out laughing.

  “Just kidding. Sorry, I just couldn’t resist!” said Alice, stirring a packet of sugar into her coffee, a sly smile curling her lips.

  Peggy recovered her composure and grinned.

  “You really had me going there for a moment. I’ll be back for your order in a sec.”

  Annie and Alice watched Peggy cheerfully pour coffee at the next table. Still chuckling, Annie leaned across the table and playfully slapped at her friend’s arm. “You are so bad!” she teased.

  “Yes, but that’s what you love about me.” Alice’s eyes danced beneath her auburn hair. “So what do you suppose this new project is, anyway?”

  “Oh, I expect we will know something before we finish our breakfast,” Annie said as Peggy returned with her pad and pen in hand.

  “Now that everyone finally has coffee, I can get your order,” Peggy said.

  Peggy quickly jotted down their request—a short stack of pancakes for Alice and a poached egg on rye toast for Annie. She raised her eyes from the pad.

  “Any bacon, sausage, ham?”

  “No, thank you,” the friends said in unison.

  With that, Peggy was off in a flash to hang their order in the cook’s window behind the counter.

  Annie tore one corner from a sugar packet, perched it over her coffee cup, and tapped it three times.

  Alice grinned. “Eleven grains of sugar. Why do you bother?”

  “Because eleven grains of sugar and a dab of milk make the perfect cup of coffee.” Annie tilted a cow-shaped pitcher over her cup and watched a singl
e splash of milk hit the dark liquid.

  Alice shook her head. “Do you think you’ll have your granddog’s sweater done before whatever this new project is that has Peggy about to burst?”

  “I made some good headway on it yesterday,” Annie said with a shrug. “I also called LeeAnn and the kids, and Joanna said Ariel is most anxious to have her new duds.”

  Alice laughed. “Somehow I doubt that dog is waiting with bated breath for that sweater!”

  “Probably not, but Joanna’s really excited, so I’m making a concentrated effort to have it completed and shipped by the end of the week. Sooner, if I can manage it.” Annie took a tentative sip of coffee followed by a larger swig.

  “Make sure you have LeeAnn send you a photo of the pooch in the sweater. I’ve gotta see the delight in that dog’s eyes!” Alice was clearly amused.

  “Oh, something tells me Joanna will badger her mom until photos are taken and emailed to Grandma.” Annie smiled at the thought of her granddaughter’s excitement about the dog sweater, however humorous it was to Alice.

  The two women chattered with the ease of good friends, flowing seamlessly from a conversation about LeeAnn’s surprise gift and Annie’s love of jazz to Alice’s hectic schedule balancing Princessa jewelry and Divine Décor home parties to pay the bills.

  “Here we go.” Peggy’s voice cut into their conversation as she placed assorted dishes on the table, listing the items on each plate.

  Annie reached for the pink pig-shaped pepper shaker and sprinkled a light dusting of flakes over her egg while Alice took a sip of her coffee.

  Peggy hovered a few seconds longer than necessary as her friends began eating. “Have you heard about the poor Polk family?” she asked, waiting a mere split second before continuing. “Matthew, the youngest son, was diagnosed with a rare eye disease and needs surgery. But with the way hours have been cut at the paper mill, money is tight. Even with Tinia’s teaching assistant salary, they’re just getting by. And now this? I just don’t know what they’re going to do!”

  Annie and Alice put down their respective forks and looked up at Peggy.

  “Wow, that’s tough.” Alice briefly closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. “I have a difficult time making ends meet, and it’s just me! I’m not sure how I’d swing an eye surgery right now.”

  Annie remembered when LeeAnn had come down with a triple infection in third grade and landed in the Children’s Medical Center in Dallas for a week. LeeAnn was a trooper, but it was such a scary time. Annie felt bad for the Polk family.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Annie said. “How old is Matthew?”

  “About eight, I think, just a bit younger than my Emily, and cute as a button!”

  “I’ll keep the entire family in my prayers. Thanks for letting us know.” Annie looked at her watch and picked up her fork.

  The breakfast rush was now over, and the roar in the diner quieted.

  “I guess we’d best finish breakfast and head to the meeting,” Alice said. “We don’t want to be late.”

  Alice and Annie watched Peggy scamper to the drink station and grab the coffeepot once again.

  “That girl is good at what she does,” Alice mused.

  Annie speared a bite of toast and egg on her fork. “Yep! Food and information. What would we do without her?”

  The question hung in the air unanswered as the women quickly finished eating. Annie glanced at the big black-and-white clock on the wall over Alice’s shoulder.

  “Hmm, are you feeling like a stuffed pancake now?” Annie asked, looking at Alice’s empty plate.

  Alice chuckled, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and plopped it beside the plate. “I’m now properly fueled for the day! How about you? Ready to get going?”

  Annie nodded, took one last sip of coffee, and stood up before placing a couple of dollar bills on the table. “Yeppie, as Joanna would say.”

  They paid the check and walked toward the door.

  “I’ll be there soon,” Peggy called out as she placed the coffeepot on its burner at the drink station.

  As Annie opened the door to leave the diner, she remembered Peggy had mentioned a new project but didn’t explain what it was. “Peggy is such a tease,” she said with a laugh to Alice as they walked outside onto the sidewalk. “She hinted about a new project, but she never got around to telling us what it was before she went on to telling us about Matthew Polk. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Seconds after walking out one door, the pair entered another at A Stitch in Time. Neither the shop owner, Mary Beth Brock, nor her employee, Kate Stevens, was in sight. Kate’s daughter Vanessa was busy adding a wooden office chair to the circle of comfy chairs where the Hook and Needle Club meeting was held.

  “Good morning, Vanessa,” said Annie, noticing how meticulously the teenager placed each chair the same distance apart from the next. “How are you?”

  Alice appeared confused. “Hi, Vanessa. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “Oh! Hi, Mrs. Dawson and Mrs. MacFarlane.” Vanessa, her long brown hair spilling off her shoulders, braced herself with one hand on a chair as she reached over to pull another one closer. “I’m here on official student council business. I’ll head back to class after I talk to the group about our upcoming fundraiser.”

  “Where’s your mom?” Annie and Alice asked in unison, as if reading each other’s mind—just like they had as kids during Annie’s summer visits.

  “Here I am!” Kate popped up from behind the cash register. “I was dusting the bag shelves. Mary Beth is in the back, unpacking a shipment of yarn. We have some new spring colors.”

  “I see.” Alice looked around the shop in amusement. Inspired by the changing season, Mary Beth had recently filled large round baskets with new, lighter colors of embroidery thread and shelves with how-to books for spring projects. Clothing items in seasonal fabric were prominently displayed on mannequins. “Just where is she going to put it?”

  Kate laughed. “I’m not sure, but she’ll find the perfect place. She always does.”

  Mary Beth emerged from the door to the stockroom, her face partially hidden by the boxes in her arms. “I thought I heard more voices out here. Good morning!”

  Vanessa dashed to Mary Beth, reaching her just as the top box began tumbling toward the floor.

  “Great catch!” said Mary Beth, taking a few steps before crouching to place the remaining boxes on the floor next to a shelf of yarn skeins. She stood up, tugged on her striped blouse to straighten it, and ran fingers through her short gray hair.

  Vanessa placed her box next to the first one and then sat in the wooden chair she had added to the circle of chairs, where Annie and Alice had both taken seats.

  Mary Beth began pulling yarn out of one box and placing skeins of the new special spring colors—pea pod, coral rose, honeysuckle, silver cloud, and lavender—on a shelf. “Oh, I just love these bright, cheerful colors,” she said.

  The wind swept a bit of debris into the shop as Gwendolyn Palmer entered. She lifted a pine green knitted cap from her perfectly coiffed blond hair. The heels of her stylish tan boots clicked on the entryway tile as she moved toward the circle of friends.

  “I was afraid I’d not make it here in time. The new housekeeper was late this morning,” she explained, placing her knitting bag on the floor while lowering herself into a chair. “But I see I am not the only one running behind.”

  Mary Beth and Kate had joined the circle. Two chairs were empty.

  “Peggy was finishing up a busy breakfast shift at the diner. She’ll be here.” Alice paused slightly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “She was bursting with information to share.”

  Stella Brickson was the next to arrive. The regal octogenarian stepped through the door as her longtime chauffeur, Jason, held it open for her. Despite the wind, every gray hair remained in place, falling in layers around her well-lined face.

  “If you’re all right then, I’ll be back to collect you in
an hour,” Jason said, one arm on the door and the other firmly in his employer’s grasp while she crossed the threshold.

  “Yes, Jason, I’ll see you in an hour. Sharp.” Her curt words would sound harsh to some, but even Annie, the relative newcomer to the group, could see the tender look in Stella’s eyes when she spoke to her driver.

  Annie noticed that Jason hovered a bit outside the door, as always, watching to make sure Stella made it to her chair before he returned to the white Lincoln Continental she knew would be parked down the street.

  “Stella, how do you manage to stay so pulled together on a day as blustery as this?” Annie quipped, rising from her chair and crossing the room to see if the older woman needed help.

  She didn’t.

  “Practice and preparation—always.” Stella might move slowly, but her tongue was consistently sharp and razor quick.

  As Stella and Annie settled into their seats, Peggy hurried in through the door, shrugged out of her tan coat, and plopped into the remaining chair in the circle.

  “I’m finally here!” she announced.

  “Yes, we see that,” said Stella as each woman pulled a needlework project from her bag.

  Annie’s sweater for the unsuspecting Ariel drew laughter from the circle of friends. “You haven’t finished that dog’s sweater yet? Soon it’ll be too hot for her to wear it,” said Kate, who was taking a break from crocheting one of her colorful, intricate jackets to make a dozen pot scrubbers for a friend who just couldn’t live without them.

  “I’m working on it. I’ve been a tad busy,” said Annie without explanation.

  Alice, her embroidery needle poised midstitch above a partially completed cluster of shamrocks on a bread-basket cloth, snickered. “Thank goodness, for Ariel’s sake! Nothing against your crocheted creation, but no dog should have to wear something as undignified as a fluffy pink sweater—not even a peke-a-poo!”

  “But we digress,” Kate interrupted. “Vanessa would like to talk to us about her friend, Marie Polk, and her little brother. She has an idea to help the family pay for little Matthew’s surgery.”