Down And Out In Flamingo Beach. Marcia King-Gamble

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      Over at Flamingo Beach General, Granny J was kicking up a considerable fuss.

      “What do you mean you’re not going to discharge me, young man?” she screamed at the doctor.

      A patient Dr. Benjamin reached out a comforting hand to stroke Granny J’s arm. “I’m not entirely satisfied with the results of your EKG. I’d like to run another test just to be sure.”

      “I want out. Now! There’s nothing wrong with my heart.”

      Dr. Benjamin, used to dealing with recalcitrant elderly people, consulted his chart. Joya stepped in, taking Granny J’s plump hand that was slapping the bed sheets in frustration as if it were Benjamin’s cheek. Joya squeezed her grandmother’s hand and spoke soothingly.

      “It’s only one more day. One day with your feet up isn’t going to kill you.”

      “But one more meal in this place will,” Granny J, who loved her food, mumbled. With age, her appetite hadn’t slowed down one bit.

      “May I speak to you privately?” Dr. Benjamin asked Joya, inclining his head to indicate that he wanted to talk outside of the room and not in her grandmother’s hearing.

      Granny J tugged her hand from Joya’s hold and folded both arms across her chest.

      “Whatever you have to say can be said in front of me. I’m not dead yet.”

      To Dr. Benjamin’s credit he didn’t lift so much as an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ll be dying anytime soon, Mrs. Hamill, at least not from the sounds of you.”

      Joya stifled a grin. She liked the handsome doctor’s way of handling the difficult old lady. He wasn’t talking down to her. Dr. Benjamin was solidly built and had probably played football during college. He had a thick neck and broad shoulders.

      It was his smile Joya liked. That smile could melt an icicle. The doctor wore his glasses on a chain around his neck, and he occasionally put them on to squint at the chart. Joya noticed there was no ring on his left hand or a tan line that said at one time there might have been.

      She remembered the nurse yesterday saying there was a girlfriend, and she supposed that would be the case. All the good ones were already taken. She’d lost a good one because of her own stupidity. Now Chere Adams would benefit from Joya’s lack of patience and foresight.

      Dr. Benjamin was waiting outside. She couldn’t keep him.

      “I’ll be right back, Grandma,” Joya said.

      Granny J’s plump hand covered her heart. “Lordie child, I must be dying. You never ever call me Grandma.”

      It was Joya’s cue to leave before Granny J really got rolling. She made a hasty escape, her high heels tapping loudly on the white-tiled floor.

      Outside she asked, “What did you want to talk to me about, Dr. Benjamin? Is Granny J’s condition something I should be worried about?”

      In the room she’d put on a good face, but now that she was no longer under Granny J’s scrutiny, panic began to overtake her. Joya looked carefully at the doctor, hoping to get a hint of what he was really thinking.

      “There may be some blocked arteries, all the evidence is there. I’ve ordered another EKG just to be sure.”

      “What!” The walls in the hallway wavered around her.

      Dr. Benjamin, incredibly in tune, squeezed Joya’s shoulder. “Take deep breaths. For a woman your grandmother’s age she’s in good shape. If the second EKG confirms what I believe, it should be a relatively simple procedure. She’ll be up, around and as good as new in no time.”

      “Must be those damn pork rinds,” Joya muttered, resorting to humor because tears were clouding her vision. It was easy for the doctor to say “simple procedure,” it wasn’t his grandmother.

      “We’ll wait until the results are back and we’ll talk again and come up with a plan.”

      Translation: Granny J could easily be in the hospital for another few days. Gran would hate that.

      Joya nodded and Dr. Benjamin squeezed her shoulder again. He was becoming a little too touchy, especially since he allegedly had a girlfriend. Joya wondered what was up with that.

      “It might not have a thing to do with pork rinds,” he said gently, smiling at her.

      Since visiting hours were almost over, she ducked back into the room to see if Granny J needed anything.

      “I told you to bring my quilting,” the elderly woman grumbled. “I promised Elda I’d have that quilt done for her in a couple of weeks. Did that man ask you on a date?”

      “What man?”

      Joya knew exactly whom Granny J meant but decided to play with her.

      “Dr. Ben. You’ve always wanted to marry a doctor.”

      “No, he did not and I never said I wanted to marry a doctor.”

      True, she’d hoped for security and had wanted to marry someone established. He didn’t necessarily have to be a pretty boy. Granny J had warned Joya there was a lot more to marriage than a physical attraction. She’d been right. Quen was bright and one helluva lover, but he’d been underemployed. She’d seen his potential but had grown sick and tired of waiting for him to see it. Who would have thought he’d have moved from his interest in personal training to become a nutritionist? Now she had no one but herself to blame for losing a good man.

      “Dr Ben has a girlfriend,” Joya reminded her grandmother, not wanting to think about Quen. “When I come by tomorrow, you and I have something to talk about.”

      “Girlfriends come and girlfriends go. This isn’t a wife we’re talking about.” Granny’s forehead wrinkled. “What do you and I need to talk about?”

      As Joya debated how to answer the question, images of a body that looked as if it might be carved from granite flashed before her eyes. Those faded, tattered jeans were molded over some pretty intimate places. And who could forget those hard biceps and that chiseled face with eyes that burned into you?

      Derek Morse was the type of guy you didn’t easily forget. Much as Joya wanted to dismiss the erotic vision of him that had surfaced, it kept coming back to her. A construction worker was not part of her plans.