Georgie Girl Ch. 07-09

"You will. They'll be here this afternoon to visit. You'll like Uncle Devon. He's full of fun and just like his mother ... feisty."

"I'm looking forward to it," I said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "So, our little love session kind of got sidetracked. Looks like I'm going to be out of commission for a while."

"There are other things we can do that won't put any stress on your wounds."

"Oh ... well ... you'll have to show me," I chuckled.

"I plan to do more than just show you. I plan to reward you for being my hero. For saving me from a fate worse than death," she said seriously.

The conversation became a bit more intimate, and as it did I became aware that something else was happening. I was getting hard. Whatever drugs might have been in my system weren't affecting my ability to be aroused. Georgette didn't fail to notice.

"Oh, look what I see," she smirked. "Something has come up." She snaked her hand under the single sheet and up under the hospital gown, gripping my now rigid member.

"And doesn't that feel good?" she teased. "Nice ... and big ... and hard. Just how I like it. I think we're going to have a very good time when you're healed, John. I'll have to make sure we take extra good care of you until you are. Make sure to build up your strength ... and stamina."

The look on her face and the glint in her eyes told me everything. She was as anxious as I was to consummate our relationship. I didn't know when that would be, but it wouldn't be one day longer than necessary.

"What if someone comes in?" I asked, watching the door for unexpected guests.

It was a good thing I did. A couple of minutes later, a man in a suit appeared at the door and knocked on the frame. Georgette's eyes went wide and she quickly withdrew her hand. Luckily her back was to the door and our visitor probably wouldn't have noticed.

"Come in," I said as we got settled again.

"Are you John Smith?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'm Detective Penick of the Placer County Sheriffs Department. Can I ask you some questions about the incident on Wednesday evening?"

"Yes ... sure. This is Georgette Fulton. She was there when it happened."

"Good. I can get her statement later. Would you excuse us please, Miss Fulton?"

Georgette reluctantly agreed and went out into the hallway. I suspected she wouldn't be far away.

"Would you describe what happened on Wednesday evening, beginning when you were aware that there was someone in the house with you."

I began, telling him about the broken glass, the encounter with Brad Little and his grabbing a knife, the attack and then the result. I couldn't remember much after discovering I had been stabbed.

"Where was Miss Fulton while all this was going on?"

"I presume she was in the great room. I didn't see or hear her, but then my concentration was on the guy with the knife. I just hoped she had called your department and then got to someplace safe in case he got by me and came after her."

"Did he say he was going to harm her?" the detective asked.

"I don't recall. But he did say he was going to take her with him whether she wanted to go or not. I knew for a fact she didn't want to go. He said something about her being his wife and she'd do as she was told. He had beaten her before and there was a restraining order out on him. I thought she was in real danger."

"Anything else you can remember?"

"No ... I don't think I've left anything out. I thought I heard Georgette scream just before I blacked out, but I can't be sure."

"Okay, Mr. Smith. That's very helpful. Thank you. Are you going to be here long?"

"I hope not. I might be released as early as tomorrow."

He nodded. "I'm sure that would be welcome," he smiled.

"Yeah ... it would. Say, Detective, while I think about it, is there any chance Brad Little is going to be released on bail?"

"I doubt it. I think the county attorney is pretty adamant that he's not only a flight risk, but a danger to you and the Fulton family. I sure as hell hope some judge doesn't let him out. I'd have to put a watch on the house twenty-four-seven with him running around."

"So ... he hasn't been arraigned then?"

"No, not until Monday at the earliest. The New Years holiday, you know."

"Well, I guess we'll have to hope for a judge with some common sense."

"Yeah. I'm with you on that," he said before leaving.

Georgette didn't return for another twenty minutes, and I guessed that the detective had found her and taken her statement. Hell of a thing, having to work on New Years Day. No chance to watch the bowl games.

"So, did you get the third degree from the detective?" I asked when she returned.

"He's nice. He was very easy to talk to, John. Wasn't he the same with you?"

"Yeah ... he asked some straightforward questions and I gave him everything I could remember. But he did ask a question that I couldn't answer. Where were you when Brad and I were dancing around in the kitchen?"

"I grabbed the phone and ran into the bathroom and locked myself in there. You had your back to me when I went by, but I'm sure Brad saw me and could guess where I was going. I was just hoping that the sheriff would arrive before he broke down the door and got to me."

"But you didn't stay in there. What made you come out?"

"It got quiet. I couldn't hear anything. I waited for a minute or so, and then I decided I had to find out what had happened to you. When I peeked into the kitchen, I could see Brad on the floor and he wasn't moving. Then I saw all the blood and the knife sticking out of you as you sat on the floor. I thought you were dead and I screamed."

"Okay ... now I think I know what I heard. How long did you have to wait for the sheriff's department to arrive?"

"Only a couple of minutes after I came out of the bathroom. I heard the sirens and I went to the front door to let them in. They had already called the paramedics and they were right behind them. The guys from the sheriff's department took over then and took me back into the great room to wait for them to deal with you and Brad.

"When I saw them wheel you out on the stretcher, I could see some things hooked up to you and an I.V. bag too. I was praying that meant you were still alive. I was so scared, John. I wanted to go with the paramedics to the hospital, but they wouldn't let me."

"Where did they take me? Where is this hospital?"

"You're in Tahoe Forest Hospital in Truckee. It's a great hospital and has all the services you needed. There was no need to airlift you anywhere else."

"I guess I'm lucky in a lot of ways. At least I'm still alive."

"Thank God, John. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd have lost you. I really don't."

"Well, now you don't have to," I smiled, putting my hand on her cheek. "I love you, Georgette."

"I love you too, John," she whispered, smiling through fresh tears.

Chapter 8 Rest, Recovery and Reorganization

I was released on Saturday, just before they served lunch. They plunked me in a wheelchair and an orderly pushed me to the elevator and then through the lobby to the main entrance and out into the brilliant sunshine. Waiting for me was Devon and my parents, along with Georgette. Devon was driving the biggest Chev Suburban they made. I was helped into it by my father and Devon and made myself as comfortable as I could. I wasn't keen on the shoulder belt, but I did it up anyway. I was stiff and sore, but I could get around now and I knew I was on the road to recovery.

Dad's insurance plan covered my stay and I was glad it was something that didn't burden the Fultons after what had happened. I had met Devon and Mary the previous afternoon when they came up for a brief visit to introduce themselves and tell me how proud they were of what I had done for their family. I was embarrassed at the amount of praise I was receiving from all of the Fulton-desBiens family. I felt like I was being given more credit that I was due.

We arrived at the lodge twenty minutes after leaving the hospital. Devon was careful not to hit any bumps that he could avoid and I was grateful. I wasn't anxious to test my threshold of pain just yet. I was helped into the house through the back door. Georgette pulled off my boots and put my moccasins on for me. I shuffled my way through the kitchen, pausing to look at the spot where I had dropped along with Bradley Little. There was no sign of our confrontation.

Sarah Fulton approached me and clasped my head with both hands. There were tears in her eyes when she spoke.

"We are so thankful to you, John. Words can't tell you what you have done for us. We will always be grateful for your bravery."

She kissed me then and I have to admit, I was a little misty-eyed too. Nan took one arm and Sarah took the other as they led me to the big sofa.

"Ladies, if you don't mind, I'd like to sit in one of those upright taller chairs. I'm afraid if I sit on the sofa I won't be able to get myself up."

The big chairs I was referring to were large and sturdy with arms that would easily support my weight. I could more easily push myself up out of them than the low, soft sofa. I got no argument from the ladies and I sat gingerly near the front window, looking back into the great room. A glance over my shoulder confirmed the spectacular view across Lake Tahoe.

I was curious about the sleeping arrangements. There were three couples, plus Georgette, Nan, and myself. With four bedrooms and the hide-a-bed, I wondered how it would work out. Georgette cleared up the mystery.

"Nan and I will share my bedroom. You'll sleep in Father's den on the hide-a-bed. That way you won't have to climb the stairs."

"Okay, that makes sense. You said it might work that way. I'll try not to be too lonely knowing the love of my life is a few feet away but out of reach."

"Oh, John, you are sooooo brave," she teased. "Don't worry, I'll find a way to make it up to you."

"You don't have to make anything up to me.

"Don't argue. Just trust me," she said with a determined look.

I wasn't allowed to have any alcohol while I was taking Percocet. On the advice of Doctor Hilliard, I was weaning myself off them, down to two per day and hopefully only one in a couple of days. I was warned about withdrawal symptoms, so I was being careful as I reduced my need for them. The pain I had been experiencing was now reduced to something akin to soreness and ordinary Tylenol had been prescribed as an alternative to the narcotic. Happily, the headaches were now a thing of the past and, while I still had a bump on the back of my head, it wasn't bothering me.

It seemed hard to believe that all this had happened in the space of less than four days. It was Saturday, January 2, 2010, the last year of the first decade of the twenty-first century. So much had changed so quickly. An innocent meeting in a sorority mixer last September had led to my taking part in Georgette's interviews, which led to something else altogether. Something that I hoped would last a lifetime.

Sarah and Mary had fixed a nice buffet lunch for us and I found my appetite was completely restored. I would miss my usual Anchor Steam, but the lunch was so delicious that I feasted on that instead. I had lost a few pounds even during the short stay in hospital, so I rationalized I could do with a few extra items from the buffet.

I could see that Devon was Nan's son. He was lively and full of good humor and didn't at all seem like the sober senior partner in a prestigious law firm. Perhaps that was the face he put on when he went to work and the real Devon was the man we saw here in his family environment. His wife, Mary, was much quieter but had a lovely, peaceful look about her. You didn't have to be around them very long to see they were devoted to each other.

"I've been meaning to ask where you went on your most recent trip," I said to Devon.

"Hawaii ... Maui, actually. We rented a cottage in Lahaina for three months. We'll be there until the end of February."

"So, you just came back for New Years?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. Didn't want to miss the family gathering, and mother was adamant that we should meet you," he smiled.

I had no idea how to respond to that and ended up with a feeble "Oh."

"Turns out she was right. We really did need to meet you," he chuckled, "although you went about it in very strange way."

"I'll try and avoid doing this again in the future," I smiled.

"Good plan," Mary said. "How are you coming on your studies?"

"I was doing fine until this happened. I'm not sure how I'm going to cope when the new semester begins. It takes all my effort to maintain my grades and missing class would be hard to overcome."

"You won't be missing class, John," Georgette said with authority.

"Oh ... why is that?"

"I'll be getting you there. All your classes are wheel-chair accessible. We just have to let them know in advance that you'll need a space for a month and it will be no problem."

"What about your dissertation ... your interviews?"

"They aren't time-dependent. I'll happily take a break to look after my man," she smiled.

I looked around the room and saw nothing but smiles of acknowledgement. If Georgette said it was so, it must be so.

"John has a minor learning disability," Georgette added, "and that's why he needs all his class time."

"What kind of disability?" Sarah Fulton asked.

"I have what's called a storage problem in my short term memory. It just means I have to learn differently than other people. I have to repeat things several times to make sure they are there when I need them."

"That doesn't sound too serious," Mary desBiens said.

"It isn't, just time consuming. I can't just pick up a text book or attend a class and make a few notes. I take a small digital recorder with me when I go to class. That way, when I review my work in the evening, I can hear the lectures word for word. All I have to do is edit out the extraneous stuff that doesn't matter and I can store the important information on my laptop."

"Does that apply to your everyday life ... you know ... the usual things like appointments or where you parked your car?" Thomas asked.

"No ... it doesn't seem to work that way. I mean, we can all be a little absent minded now and then."

"Tell me about it," Mary said, looking at Devon. That brought about general laughter.

"It seems to relate to large quantities of new information that need to be understood. Complex instructions. For example, if I bought a new DVR, I'd be forever learning to program it until I got used to the procedure."

"Just like me, then," Thomas laughed.

"As an engineering student, I'm bombarded with complex information all the time, so it makes learning a lot more challenging."

"And yet, you're succeeding," Nan said with a hint of pride.

"Yes. It's important to me that I make it. It's a goal and I can't let anything distract me from it right now."

"Like me, for instance," Georgette said with a smile.

"Especially you," I chuckled, noticing only slight discomfort in my chest.

"I have the sense that nothing will stop you from achieving your goals, John," my father said, showing his definite confidence in me.

"You must be immensely proud of him," Sarah said, looking at me with a warm smile.

"We are," my mother said. "But we're also embarrassing him right now. Can we change the subject?" she asked gently.

"How about them 49'ers," Devon laughed.

"Yuck!" was Thomas's reply. "Maybe the new coach, a new quarterback and a new secondary might make them competitive."

The conversation wandered all over the place for the next while. I sat back and listened. Georgette had helped clear the table with her mother and aunt, then returned to the great room and sat on the rug next to me. I dropped my hand over the arm of the chair and she took it, holding it as we listened to the comfortable chatter. It felt good. It felt very, very good.

A bit of strategic planning sorted out the action required on Monday. Thomas and Sarah would be returning to the city. With them as far as Sacramento would be my parents. My father would be catching a plane at one o'clock to Spokane via Portland. His car was in the Spokane parking lot, and he could be home from there in a matter of forty minutes. Mom would continue on to San Francisco with the Fultons. Devon and Mary were taking Nan back to San Francisco before packing once more to return to Maui. That left Georgette and me to return on our own.

It had been decided that I would stay with Nan along with mother. She had two unused bedrooms that we could occupy and, although I wasn't sure I really needed mother to be there, I said nothing since it seemed to give her some peace of mind. She was being very protective of me and I could understand that.

I wasn't supposed to drive yet, so I couldn't spell Georgette on the over three hour trip back to the city. Luckily, the weather had held and there was no snow on the descent down I-80. By the time we got to the outskirts of Sacramento, the temperature on the car's thermometer read sixty-two. Much warmer than it would be in San Francisco.

We stopped at Vacaville for a rest break so that I could stretch and walk around for few minutes. It was nice to be out in the relatively warm sun for a change. I was feeling a bit stiff, but I noticed there was very little pain going on and I was grateful for that. I hoped that my recovery would be sooner rather than later. I didn't want to be dependent on Mom or Georgette any longer than necessary. They had their own lives to live.

We arrived in the city just before three in the afternoon. Georgette made a detour and pulled up in front of a medical supply outlet.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I'm renting a wheelchair so I can get you around campus without you straining yourself or being late for class."

"Oh. You think that's necessary?"

"For now, yes. When you get stronger and can walk more easily, we can return it and you'll be on your own," she grinned.

"So ... you're going to push me around, huh?"

"You might as well get used to the idea. I am very strong-willed, you know."

"Yeah ... I'm getting that impression."

Georgette had booked ahead on the Internet from the lodge, and they were ready for us with a new light-weight chair. It also had a carrier on the back where I could put my books and laptop. She had pretty much thought of everything.

"Let me put it in the trunk," she ordered. "You aren't supposed to be doing any lifting right now."

"So, carrying you up the stairs to your bedroom is out, I guess."

"For now," she said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

The wheelchair was left in the trunk as we had moved our bags to the back seat for the short ride to her home. Our skis and boots had been left at the lodge since we planned to get some skiing in as soon as I was healed. Georgette assured me that there would be adequate snow well into April at the upper level. I should be good-to-go long before then.

Thomas took my bags and toted them up the stairs to the middle bedroom. It was plenty big with lots of closet space. We would go to my apartment and get my clothes and other personal items the next day. I had enough in my travel kit to make do. Once again, Thomas insisted that he help me with moving my things, so we made arrangements to go over the next morning.

Classes resumed on Tuesday, but I knew from experience that little beyond a snap-shot of the curriculum would be presented. I was sure I could pick that up on Wednesday when class began for real. It was when we arrived at the apartment that I got an unexpected surprise.

"Hey, Willie, what's up? I thought you'd be in class now."

"We got a notice in our mailbox yesterday and I thought you better see it right away," he said.

Willie was William Petrovic, another third year student studying environmental sciences. He was an ideal roommate: neat and quiet. We got along very well.