The Sisterhood - Michael Palmer [4]
“I’m going to take a shower,” Lauren said after a few moments. She was already out of bed, pulling on a blue velour dressing gown.
“Want company?”
“I think it’s the right time for a little space and some hot, soapy water. Go make some breakfast. I’ll get myself squeaky clean and we’ll give this day a fresh start over a cup of coffee.”
David sat staring out at the glittering new day until he heard the sound of water against tile. The day, possibly the most important one for him in years, was not starting out the way he had planned. By now he was to have told Lauren about the exciting turn of events at the hospital. Events that might well mark the beginning of the end to so much of the frustration and disappointment that had colored his life. By now he was to have reaffirmed his desire to have her move in with him, and she was to have at last agreed that it was time.
“Just calm down, Shelton, and let things happen,” he said, clenching his hands, then consciously relaxing them. “Everything is finally coming together. Nothing, no one, can mess them up again except you.”
He selected a frayed, green surgical scrub suit from the half-dozen stuffed in a bureau drawer, dressed, and walked to the window. Four stories below, a few early risers were crossing the still-shaded islands of Commonwealth Avenue. He wondered how many of them were feeling the same sense of anticipation he was—the excitement of facing a new beginning. Beginnings. The thought brought a wistful smile. How many times had he, himself, felt that way? High school, college, medical school. Ginny, Becky. So many beginnings. Beginnings as promising as this one. David sighed. Was the morning the start of a page, of a chapter, or perhaps of a whole new story? Whatever it was to be, he felt ready. For of all the bright beginnings in his life since the accident and the nightmare year that had followed the deaths of his wife and daughter, this was the first one he completely trusted.
The apartment, though small, gave the illusion of roominess, born largely of tall windows and ten-foot ceilings—trademarks of many dwellings in the Back Bay section of the city. A long, narrow corridor connected the bedroom to a living room cluttered with near-antique furniture, a dining alcove, and a tiny kitchen that faced an alleyway at the rear of the building. The front and bathroom doors faced one another midway down the hall.
Humming an off-key rendition of the Haydn symphony, David shuffled to the kitchen. Usually, he would exercise and run before eating, but this morning, he decided, could be an exception. He was a muscular man, with broad shoulders and powerful arms that made him appear heavier than his 175 pounds. There were slivers of gray throughout his black, bushy hair. His wide, youthful eyes ran the spectrum from bright blue to pale green, depending on the light. Fine creases, once transient and now indelible, traversed his forehead and the bridge of his nose.
He stood in the center of the kitchen rubbing his hands together with mock professionalism. “Zo, ve crrreate ze brrreakfast.” He swung open the refrigerator door. “Ze choices, zey are many, yes?” His voice echoed back from near-empty shelves.
Once, after hopelessly blackening two steaks, he had announced to Lauren, “I think I’ll write a culinary arts book for the single man. I’m going to call it Cooking for None.”
Selecting breakfast fare was not difficult. “Let us zee … ve could haf tomato juice or … tomato juice. Ze English muffin, eet looks nice, non? … And zee five ecks, zey beg to be scrrrambled, yes?”
Lauren breezed into the dining alcove as he was setting their meal on the table. “Nicely done,” she said, surveying his work. “You’ll make a wonderful wife for someone someday.” A few strands of glistening hair fell from beneath the towel she had wrapped around her head. Her smile announced that, as advertised, she was starting the morning over again.
“So,” David said deliberately, “what are your plans for this day?” He was pleased at having fought back the impulse