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“Oh, no. What the hell?”
I started to get up, and Brian gently pushed me back against the headboard, pulling my pillows up behind my back. “Stay put, sister. You’re getting the hero’s treatment this morning if we have to strap you down.”
“And something came in the mail from the State Board,” Dale said, waving an envelope.
I had gotten a provisional license in an email, but I knew Flynn was going to pull some strings with the Michigan Board of Nursing that was headed by the governor, an acquaintance of Flynn’s sister Fatima. I wanted my paper license when we traveled. It was unnecessary, but it was important to me.
“I can’t believe this! That was fast.”
She handed it to me, and I took the buttery knife off the plate and licked it clean before sticking the point under the envelope flap. I unfolded the paper, and there it was. I held it to my chest, still not quite believing this had happened. For two years I hadn’t cared, had avoided talking about being a nurse or even thinking about it, and now this.
My friends could see how moved I was, and the three of them sat next to me on the bed and embraced me, the breakfast tray teetering near disaster.
“Now all I need is my passport, and I’m out of here,” I said.
“When’s the trip?” Brian asked, wiping a tear off his cheek as he stood up.
“February. I’ll be gone a month.”
“How will Skippy survive?” Casey asked, grimacing, making us laugh.
“Skippy will be fine.” I dipped a toast corner into egg. “I have to tell my parents. It’s coming at an uncomfortable time. We’re just kind of reintroducing ourselves to each other, and now I’m leaving.”
“That sounds like it’s by design,” Brian said. “Don’t want them to get too attached again.”
“You might be right,” I replied, doubting it.
But maybe he was right. I would never replace Lucy, and my emotional absence from their lives for six years might have been beneficial. With me out of the picture, there would be less chance to compare, less opportunity to view my shortcomings compared to Lucy. And when I hadn’t passed the boards, it had opened the wound again.
“I’m going to visit my mother today. She needs to see this license.” I resumed eating. “You’ve successfully blocked out that damn ceremony from my thoughts,” I said, lifting the tray to hand to Brian once I’d finished. “I’d better get dressed.”
“What are you going to wear?” Dale asked.
“If she could wear underwear, she’d be all set,” Casey answered, checking me out. “You have nothing that’s fit for receiving an award.” She held a finger to her cheek. “I have something.”
“Not that peach thing,” Dale cried, grimacing.
“It’s out of season, but it’s the only thing small enough for her in this house.” Casey grabbed my arm and tugged at me to get out of bed. “Come look in my closet.”
I stood next to the chief of police in a borrowed dress with a denim jacket. The outfit was way too summery for an out-of-doors winter event, but it was the only thing Casey had that didn’t look like a sack on my body. Dale had a brown velvet dress, but she’s almost six feet tall.
There was a metallic smell in the air of melting, oily snow. We’d had a little snow for Christmas.
Focus.
Looking around at the small crowd that had formed and the media trucks, I slowly came out of my trance. All the people were there for me. The entire staff of the car wash was lined up in front, waving, whistling. I hoped Skippy was going to pay them for the time.
I saw my mother and father and siblings and their significant others, and my aunts and uncles. Then I nearly passed out when I saw a smiling Flynn and his entire family, and his staff, including Cindy Patron and the man who had been in the barn tending to horses the day Flynn had taken me to his family’s farm. I saw my grandfather. He actually smiled at me.
The presence of a microphone about level with my mouth made it more difficult to focus.
The chief of police spoke; he was a short, rotund man in a dark blue uniform. I grabbed the sides of my jacket, feeling like I was sinking into my heels. Someone, probably Skippy, pushed me forward near the podium.
“Thank you all for coming today to honor Miss Bella Roman, who will receive the Act of Heroism Award for her quick thinking and actions. Thanks to Miss Roman, a human life was saved.
“To paraphrase Aristotle, heroism is personal because it involves a fearless individual who passionately desires to achieve a noble purpose. She is well aware of her strengths and weaknesses.”
He wasn’t kidding. I wondered how much longer this was going to go on. Then he continued.
