Raquel's Abel (6 page)

Someone hit the alarm. When nothing happened, two students began to tug at the elevator doors. Soon they opened and we saw that the elevator had stopped between floors. An opening of about a foot high appeared. The boys scooted out and soon were followed by everyone but me.

Even slathered with baby oil I wouldn’t I fit through that slit. I stood there inside the elevator, alone and humiliated, for hours. Not one single person thought to hand me anything to drink, or a stool to sit on; and, feeling like I was on display at the zoo, I was much too embarrassed to ask for help.

After the repairmen had finally gotten the elevator to move, I continued up to the professor’s office. He had gone to class. I’d have to call him and apologize and think up some excuse. I wouldn’t want to admit what really happened.

The next day, I stood in the kitchen looking at the pages of information the surgeon had given me. If I’d had any doubts about having the surgery, being stuck in that elevator had erased them. How much more could I take?

I heard a whoosh behind me. “Maria Elena,” I called.

“Good afternoon,” said a deep male voice.

I turned to see
him
. This time he was dressed in a WWI Infantry uniform complete with a metal bowl-like helmet that had been called steel Stetsons when they first came out.

I ignored the thrill that crept through me. “I don’t know how you keep getting in the house, but I really must ask you to leave.” Why wasn’t I scared of him? I certainly should be.

He cocked his head back and stared at me out of half open eyes. “I have come to tell you that you are making a mistake.”

He was so irritating. “If I’m making a mistake, it’s no business of yours.”

“Is that any way for you to talk to your greatest admirer?” He took his helmet off and held it at his chest.

“What’s so great about your admiration? You just seem to be a plain old nuisance.” A very handsome nuisance, I thought to myself.

“Hardly should you think of me as a nuisance. I am here to save you from that abominable idea you’ve got parading around in your head.” He blinked his dark eyes slowly and puffed up his chest.

“First, it’s none of your business and second, it’s not a bad idea at all. This will give me a new lease on life.” What was I doing arguing with a spirit?

He looked like he’d swallowed a lump. “It could take your life.”

I ignored the truth of what he was saying. “Why does it mean so much to you?”

“Because.” He threw his head back. “Because, I would like to court you and, and, I can’t do that if you…” His deep voice halted abruptly.

“Court me?” It sounded so regal, so old-fashioned, yet
very
flattering.

His face clouded over, and soon his features went hazy, then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone.

Was I going crazy? Or was this just my psyche’s way of dealing with the fear of having major surgery?

Chapter Three

A few weeks later, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of that ghost. He was probably just a dream—or wishful thinking, I thought, remembering his gorgeous dark eyes. A guy that hot had never been interested in me. Maybe in Regina, but never in me.

I’d finally finished going through the multitude of tests in preparation for the gastric bypass. The surgery was tomorrow. All I had to do was follow the directions on that...that...that list. Where was it? It had been in the kitchen. I looked on the island, the countertops, then on the floor. Where could it be?

“Maria Elena,” I hollered. “I left my list here and now I can’t find it.” I opened the trashcan and moved the contents around a little bit. “I still can’t find it,” I screamed louder.

“Wait, Señorita Raquel, Marcio’s wife is about to find out,” she called from the TV room. Grandmother was upstairs taking a nap, so Maria Elena was watching her soap operas again.

“I don’t care about your Peyton Place. I’m looking for my list to make sure I do the right things before surgery.”

Maria Elena came sulking into the kitchen and glanced around. “I no see it.”

“I had it right here and
I
didn’t move it.” It had explicit instructions about what clear liquids I could consume and when.

“Maybe the door was opening and the wind blew it out?” She went outside and began to look around on the patio. “Here. I see a piece of paper right here.” She picked it up and unfolded it.

I grabbed it out of her hand and felt the slickness of moist paper. “It’s gotten wet.” Odd, it hadn’t rained all day.

“
Si, Señorita
, I can’t even reading anything.”

“How could this have happened?”

“
Ay, Madre de Dios
.” Maria Elena crossed herself. “It’s the ghost. In my country, there an old abandoned mine not far from my parent’s house. The Spanish killing many Indians there, and if you going by there at night,” she waved her hand up and down, “you hearing the Indians screaming.”

“Did you actually hear them yourself?”

Her pupils moved around in circles. “Well, no, but many people told me.” She nodded her head emphatically. “But your paper…” She pointed to the illegible, crumpled-up wad.

“No problem. I’ll just call the doctor’s office and get the information.”

“Sure, you doing that. You will be more skinny like movie star.”

I dialed the doctor’s office and got the instructions. This time I stuck it in the pocket of a big muumuu I wore around the house. As soon as this fat began to melt away, I’d buy no more loose-fitting stuff. I’d buy slinky things that hugged my new form.

I hadn’t eaten anything all day in preparation for the surgery and I was feeling weak. I decided to go upstairs and lay down. My head hit the pillow and I let my mind fill with pleasant thoughts—walking daintily in high heels and being able to sit on any chair, not just the ones that looked sturdy or wide enough.

I sank deeper into my pleasant dream.

“Mademoiselle Raquel,” he said overemphasizing the rhyme. “You are a vision of loveliness.”

The meadow was foggy around the edges, but I could see miles of carpety soft grass. Beside me walked a soldier with a metal helmet, jodhpurs, and a button-down coat.

“At your service, Ma’am,” he said crisply as he gave me a military salute.

I skipped across the damp lawn, enjoying moving quickly without my extra two hundred pounds accompanying me.

The soldier faced me, running backwards, holding his helmet over his eyes.

I ran faster, liking the cool breeze on my face. My lungs filled and emptied easily. This is the way my life would be without all the flab.

The man removed his helmet and looked at me with those deep brown eyes. “I like you the way you are.”

“The way I am,” I repeated. My weight crippled my legs and soon I was rolling across the green grass, damp blades cruelly slapping my face.

I opened my eyes. It had been a dream. Of course it was a dream. But it was the same man. Abel Rollins.

Maybe it was just nerves about having the operation. That’s it. I was apprehensive and my subconscious was dealing with it this way.

I patted the pocket of my muumuu. Nothing crinkled. Where was the list? I dug my hand down in the fabric. I looked around on the bed. It could have fallen out while I was sleeping. Yes, I had been tossing and turning and it must have slipped out. It had to be here. I ran my hands all around the sheets.

That scoundrel.

This time I knew who had taken it. The laugh was on him, though. I remembered everything the nurse had told me.

The alarm went off at five o’clock. They’d said it was imperative I be there at six sharp. The hospital was just a few miles away, so all I had to do was shower, get dressed, and drive over there. Owen was meeting me there and would wait for me during the surgery.

I grabbed my purse and headed for the car. Funny, I wasn’t nervous at all. In fact, I was excited about making such a big change in my life. I reached for my keys. Wait. Where were they? I dug around in my bag some more. They weren’t here.

I ran back in the house. The clock said five thirty. Don’t panic, I told myself. You have plenty of time to make it to the hospital. I dumped my purse out on top of the little table in the foyer—credit cards, lipstick, tissues, but no keys. I was already out of breath, but I ran back upstairs and looked under the bed, in the pockets of all the clothes I’d worn lately.