house and I said something about it not being a good idea.
“When?” he said, which surprised me. He’d never pushed before. I made a helpless shrug.
“When he’s gone,” I said. “I know what you’re thinking. I should have my head examined.” I looked toward the front window and just then I saw a familiar form standing in front of it, peering out.
CHAPTER 4
Even though it was a shorter distance up the walkway to my front door, I took the driveway and went through the backyard to my kitchen door. Inside everything was quiet. Even the dogs and cats didn’t rush to greet me.
My plan was to quickly make myself a cup of herbal tea and take it to my room before anyone caught sight of me. I was filling my mug with hot water when Barry Greenberg, my former boyfriend, suddenly walked into the kitchen. It was a relief to see him not in a wheelchair, not in a cast, not on crutches and not leaning on a cane. He was beginning to seem more like his old self, though he was still favoring his left knee.
“You’re coming home kind of late.” He leaned his tall frame against the counter as I took out the tea things and gave him a dark look. I had to force myself to keep from saying that it was none of his business.
This was awkward with a capital A. There always seemed to be an undercurrent of anger when you saw an ex-boyfriend. But if he was living with you—well, not living with you, but under the same roof and recovering from something terrible, how could you not feel guilty for the anger.
A videotape began to play in my mind. It was a combination of what I’d been told about Barry’s shooting and what I’d seen on TV. It had been just an ordinary day, shortly after Barry and I broke up. Barry was loading his car after a shopping trip to Walmart when he noticed a couple of uniforms taking out a pair of teenage boys in handcuffs and figured they’d been caught shoplifting. One of the cops was helping one of the suspects into the backseat of the cruiser when suddenly the other kid started to struggle with the officer handling him. Without hesitating, Barry rushed in, flashed his badge and tried to help.
This was the part when I had to stop and swallow a few times. How could that kid have been so stupid to go from a shoplifting charge to attempted murder? Somehow he’d managed to get hold of the arresting officer’s gun, even with his hands cuffed behind his back, and began shooting wildly. Barry wasn’t wearing a Kevlar vest. It was all so unexpected, he couldn’t even move. He’d been shot three times. Once in the chest, one in the thigh and once in the knee. Even now, I shuddered just thinking of the pain.
It had been Barry’s son Jeffrey who’d called to tell me about his father and to tell me that Barry was asking for me. It was all touch and go then. Barry was delirious, but still worried about his son. I was the only one he wanted his son Jeffrey to stay with. It didn’t matter what had gone on between Barry and me, I loved Jeffrey. I’d taken him home with me from the hospital.
Barry’s condition kept getting upgraded and eventually he was ready to go home, but there was a problem. His condo was a two-story place and he couldn’t manage stairs. So what did I do? I offered to let him recuperate at my house. What was I thinking? I know what I was thinking—that he would never accept. It was Barry who’d been all or nothing about our relationship, insisting either we got married or were done, and I mean, completely done, not even friends anymore. But he had accepted my offer anyway, saying it was because of Jeffrey. The kid had been through a lot and he seemed happy at my house.
Mason tried to talk Barry into getting a chairlift put in his condo and even offered to get it done, but Barry stuck with staying at my place. As a last ditch effort, Mason suggested both Barry and Jeffrey stay at his place. He lived alone with a toy fox terrier in a huge ranch house. I wasn’t surprised when Barry turned that down. Though the two men knew each other, I’d hardly call them friends.