The Purple Corvette

Copyright © 2007 by Margot Rising

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-0-595-44767-1 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-89086-6 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

Epilogue

CHAPTER 1

Sandra rushed to get home on time, but it was just her luck that the one time she was in a hurry, the traffic was almost at a dead stop. There had to be an accident up ahead, but she couldn’t see anything. Maybe the traffic light wasn’t working. It wouldn’t be the first time. Her mother would be really upset by now. Sandra had promised she’d be home in plenty of time to pick her up and get down to the furniture store before it closed, and before the item she wanted Sandra to see was sold to somebody else. She didn’t know why her mother couldn’t just buy it. Ever since she moved back in with her mother, it seemed like she needed Sandra’s approval for anything she did.

The cars were moving now and she could see three young men pushing an ancient Buick off the road to the shoulder. It had obviously quit. That happened. She breathed a sigh of relief as the cars ahead picked up speed. With any luck, she’d make it in time.

Sam had looked out the window from time to time, halfway expecting his father to drive up in his new car. He glanced at the clock on the hospital wall and decided it was way too early. He could hardly leave his patients and run out to take a spin in it, but he had to admit that instead of acting like a thirty-two year old doctor, he was as excited as a teen getting his first set of wheels.

He approached his office door eyeing the M.D. on the nameplate. He would never get used to the pride he felt when he saw the title after his name. Just as he opened the door, a nurse approached him. You’re not ready to leave, are you, doctor?

He looked down at the nurse who stood maybe five-six, not petite enough to be called short, but noticing that the top of her head came only to his chin or thereabouts. Not quite, Jenny, unless you’ve sent the rest of my patients home.

She chuckled. Not a chance. Mrs. Butts is waiting for you in room three. Sam winced at the thought of the man-chaser waiting to pounce on him. Divorced a year ago, she fancied herself God’s gift to young men of medicine. He just happened to be her target this week. He couldn’t ignore her because she might genuinely need medical attention, but he didn’t have to be happy about being pursued this way. He sighed. Might as well stick my head in the lion’s mouth and get it over with.

Jenny chuckled. That bad, huh? she had just listened to the woman praising the young doctor’s sensitive brown eyes.

You have no idea. He went to examining room three, took the chart from the holder by the door and looked at it momentarily. A minute later, he opened the door, and cautiously stepped inside, wishing he could be more enthusiastic about his chosen profession right now.

* * *

Sandra sat rigidly in her mother’s Oldsmobile as she tried not to look at the traffic around her. Her mother had insisted on driving. Don’t you think you could slow down a little, Mom? She tried to keep her voice calm in spite of the fact that she wanted to scream, Slow Down! After all, we’re on Midland Center’s busiest highway.

Don’t be silly, dear. I’ve been driving all my life. Don’t concern yourself.

But, Mother, the traffic is heavy and you keep darting from one lane to the other. How do you know what the other drivers will do?

"It’s called defensive driving, dear, her mother answered calmly. You’ll learn as you gain more experience."

Mother, she said with a tone that sounded like she was fifteen again, I’m twenty-seven years old. I think I’ve had plenty of experience driving.

You never stop learning, Sandra. She sighed. That’s what your father always told me. She sighed again. I miss him.

I miss him, too, but it’s been four years. You certainly have come a long way this last year. She smiled at her attractive mother. She may be fifty-eight years old, but she had only a few gray hairs by her right temple. Some women had white hair by that age. Her skin was still youthful and her figure, although sagging a little here and there, was one that she could be proud of showing off in more youthful clothes. She had always been fashion-conscious; but she preferred to keep her wardrobe more dignified with solid, subdued colors. She was attractive and one could imagine what a beauty she must have been twenty years ago.

I made up my mind that I couldn’t wallow in self pity any longer. I will always miss him, but I know that I have to go on living. Sylvia Dawson glanced over at her pretty daughter, proud to see in her the many things she loved about her husband. Harry had been one in a million, kind, considerate, intelligent, a wonderful provider. How had she ever been lucky enough to meet him?

As she turned her head back to the road, Sylvia saw a blotch of purple in front of her and Sandra screamed. Oh, my God! She slammed on the brakes, but the car skidded, and she was unable to avoid colliding with the purple car at her left. The loud clash of metal striking against metal sounded as her body was thrown forward and she was barely aware of the screams that came from Sandra and herself. The cars screeched to a halt. They both sat motionless for a minute, trying to register what had just happened.

Mother? Are you all right?

Somewhat dazed, Sylvia tried to focus on the colors in front of her. Finally, she saw a purple car with a white stripe. A long, shiny, sporty car like youngsters drive to impress girls. She sat very still, hanging onto the steering wheel as if it were keeping her from falling out of the car. She was staring straight ahead, but really seeing nothing.

Mother?

Sylvia nodded, but continued to stare straight ahead. I’m all right dear, she said groggily. Are you hurt, Sandra?

No, but I’m sure I’ll have a stiff neck tomorrow.

That idiot, she pointed to the crumpled, purple car that sat diagonally on the shoulder. He had no business being there. Something ought to be done about those young hoodlums. He hogged the road, that’s what he did. Just look what he did.

Sandra’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Mother, it was you who hit him."

That’s exactly my point. Her arm swung wilding toward the purple car. He pulled right in front of me.

Sandra shook her head. He did no such thing. He was in his own lane minding his own business. You looked over at me, and by the time you looked back, it was too late for you to get back into your own lane.

Nonsense. If he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have hit him. Honestly, Sandra, quit protecting that young hoodlum— Her eyes opened wide as she watched an attractive gray-haired gentleman getting out of the purple car. His black suit made him look tall and distinguished, she thought, and his wire framed glasses made him seem so … oh my, but there was such anger on his face. That’s worse yet. The man must be in his second childhood, driving a car like that. Just look at it.

It’s called a Corvette, Mother. Sandra’s voice was dry. I certainly hope he wasn’t injured.

The man reached Sylvia’s car. Are you all right?

Sylvia’s voice was curt. Fine.

Mother, whispered Sandra, aren’t you going to say something to him?

Right now? I’m afraid I’ll lose my temper.

Sandra got out of the car and went around to the man. Are you all right? I hope you didn’t get hurt.

I’m fine. He pointed at the Oldsmobile. What, exactly, was she trying to do? Make a left turn from the right lane right through me?

Sylvia got out of the car. She wouldn’t admit that her legs were wobbly, so she kept one hand on the car door. She opened her mouth to say something, but everything suddenly started spinning. Why didn’t the car hold still? She shook her head slightly, but the movement was making her dizzier and she was having a hard time standing up.

Sandra saw the blood rush from her mother’s face as it turned as white as her blouse. She started to sway. Mother? Sandra tried to reach her mother, but the man had already moved to her side and put his arm around her to keep her from falling.

Here, sit back down in the car. You’re very pale. He helped her back into the seat and took out a cellular phone. We’d better call for an ambulance.

No. Sylvia’s voice was so soft it could hardly be heard. I’ll be all right.

He frowned down at Sylvia and looked at Sandra, his eyes pleading with her. Don’t you think she should have medical attention?

Sandra leaned down to talk to her mother. Let him call the ambulance. You really do look very pale.

Who wouldn’t? That airbag hit me square on. I swear I’m going to have it disconnected. She leaned her head against the back of the seat.

I think that’s pretty well taken care of. Sandra turned to the man. She was concerned, and she realized that her mother could be in shock. She didn’t want to go against her wishes, but there was no point in taking chances, especially with her heart condition. Please call, she said to the man.

The man took his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He took the jacket off and draped it around Sylvia, who blankly stared up at him. Let’s keep you warm. He dialed 911 and stated their location. I can get her information later, he told Sandra as he pulled out a business card, and copied down the name of his insurance company and the policy number on the back. I’ll expect you to give me the same information for her when you have time.

Of course. She looked at the name on the card. Stuart Davidson, she read. Sandra checked with her mother who seemed to be out of it for the moment. There wasn’t anything she could do for her, but she’d stay close by. She took her mother’s insurance ID card out and let the man write down the information he needed. Whenever she moved from the car, she kept her eye on her mother, concerned that she might not be as all right as she claimed. Maybe she should keep talking to her. Mother, are you okay?

Yes, dear. I’m fine. I’m just … resting. Then she mumbled something about second childhood.

Sandra was glad the man didn’t hear that. Her mother was obviously in the wrong, and it would be embarrassing if he heard what her mother thought of a man his age driving a purple Corvette. She had to admit that it did seem strange. The purple was soooo bright and the white stripe running the length of the car was almost blinding. She had to admit that seeing a man his age driving a car like that was disconcerting. It seemed so out of character for such a distinguished looking man.

I’m Sandra Dawson, and this is my mother, Sylvia Dawson. She glanced into the car, looking worried. I wish the ambulance would get here. Not a minute later, they heard the siren and the ambulance pulled up behind the car.

Stuart called to the paramedics and pointed to the car. She’s here. He moved to let them by.

The two young men nodded and brushed past him to get to her.

Stuart put his hand on Sandra’s arm. Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be all right. Accidents always leave one in a state of shock.

How about you? Don’t forget that you were in the accident, too. The man must be in his sixties.

I’m all right. He grimaced when he glanced at the Corvette. What possessed her to ram right into me?

She shrugged, not certain what to say. She knew that her own insurance company expected her to refrain from making any statement of guilt. Even if she wasn’t driving, and even if her mother didn’t have the same insurance company, she was sure the request was standard. The siren of the approaching police car saved her from making a decision, but this was almost worse. How could she refuse to make a statement to the police?

Once again, she didn’t have to worry about making a statement. She had to answer the officer’s questions truthfully. That was all there was to it. There was simply no point in trying to defend her mother, but to be honest, it happened so fast, she didn’t actually see what had happened. She couldn’t suggest that it was Stuart Davidson’s fault. She had to accept that it was exactly what she told her mother. He really was in his own lane. After all, Sylvia’s car was in his lane, and no matter how gosh-awful that car looked, the Corvette was not in hers.

The paramedics worked on her mother, taking her blood pressure, asking questions and probing for injuries. Meanwhile, Sandra answered enough questions for the officers to finish the accident report. One officer measured the road while the other one took two pictures, explaining that it was because Sylvia had stated that the mad man was responsible for the accident. Obviously, there were no witnesses with the exception of Sandra. The ambulance took her mother to Memorial Hospital and Sandra was to follow.

Since both cars were drivable, Stuart said he would get in touch with Sylvia later. Sandra gave him their phone number before she left for the hospital.

Your mother is being moved to a room, Miss Dawson. The nurse, older than most nurses, was efficient and knowledgeable, yet caring.

Sandra’s voice was filled with concern and fear. Is she hurt badly?

The nurse had a warm smile on her face. The doctor will see her in her room as soon as she’s settled. If you want to sit in the waiting room, I’ll let you know as soon as she’s settled and you’re welcome to be there when the doctor examines her again.

Actually, the nurse hadn’t answered her question. You can’t tell me anything? Or won’t tell me anything, she thought.

The nurse must have read her thoughts. The doctor is still evaluating the tests he ran. I’m sure he’ll share the results with you as soon as he comes to a conclusion.

Of course. Sandra should have thought of that. The nurse wasn’t being mean. She was doing her job, which was not to report something she didn’t know was fact.

Did they call you to let you know your mother was involved in the accident?

She shook her head. I was in the car with her.

Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe a doctor should look at you

No, I’m fine. She sighed. I worry about Mother because she has a pacemaker. With her heart condition, a shock like this certainly can’t do her any good.

The nurse smiled. The human body is sometimes tougher than we think. Mothers tend to attract concern, but with air bags involved, she should be examined.

«T »

I suppose.

She was coherent. In fact, she was ranting and raving about a purple car.

Yes, Sandra answered absently. The other car was very purple.

The nurse looked down the hall and saw that the door to Sylvia’s room was now open. You can go in now.

As she was about to enter, a tall, nice looking doctor in a white coat approached the room. She stood aside as he entered. He glanced back at her as she followed him.

Are you a relative? He nodded toward Sylvia who was in a sitting position, her head leaned back against the pillow with her eyes closed.

She looked so helpless, thought Sandra. She’s my mother.

He held out his hand. I’m Doctor Sam Davidson. Your mother will be my patient while she’s here. If she wants her own physician, she need only ask. His voice was void of emotion. We can transfer her to County Hospital if she would prefer to be there.

She shook his hand. I’m sure she’ll want to stay here. I’m Sandra Dawson. She looked up at him, as if questioning him about her mother.

He smiled. You can talk to her. He took Sylvia’s chart and filled in some data.

Mom?

Sylvia opened her eyes slowly and smiled a sickly smile. Hello, dear.

Sandra frowned as she looked at the doctor.

Sam looked up from the clipboard. I gave her a sedative. She was far too emotional about the idiot who pulled out in front of her. I don’t want her that excited.

Sandra blushed. If he only knew it wasn’t the man’s fault. She swept a strand of hair off her mother’s forehead. How are you feeling?

Just fine, Sandra, Sylvia drawled in a happy stupor. Stop worrying.

She had never seen her mother so serene.

The doctor cleared his throat to draw their attention. I’ll keep you overnight for observation, Sylvia. Your heart has a few little glitches that may not mean anything, but I want to make sure. We’ll call cardiology to run a check on the pacemaker and make sure it’s functioning properly. Do you remember if the airbag hit you near your left shoulder? He waited for an answer, but she only shrugged her shoulders. Well, all you have to do is lie back and enjoy the vacation.

I’d rather be on a cruise. Her voice was grumpy.

He chuckled. I’m sure you would, but let’s make sure you’re in good health first. He turned to Sandra. Do you have any questions?

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. I guess I don’t know enough about this to ask any.

He nodded. Feel free to ask the nurse to contact me if you think of anything. I’ll be here until about six tonight.

So late? She didn’t know why she asked. The words just came out. In her experience, anything after five o’clock waited until the next day, or questions were routed to the doctor on call.

My dad has my new Corvette. He’s picking me up at six. He tried not to sound too excited about it, but he felt like a kid waiting for Santa to arrive.

Sandra frowned and leaned closer to whisper, Corvettes aren’t the best topic of conversation right now. The other car was a Corvette. She pointed toward her mother.

He nodded. Well, he hung the chart back on the foot of the bed, I’ll see her at ten in the morning. If you can be here then, we can discuss where we’ll go from there.

She nodded. "Thank you,