Rebecca’s Cove

Chapter 8

BJ’s third day on the island started out uneventfully. She and her shadow, a Bichon puppy, started out the day with breakfast. Arturo looked longingly at his bowl after BJ put the prescribed amount of food in it.

“Get used to it, Squirt. I’m surprised you didn’t explode after last night.”

Hot coffee and the local newspaper sufficed as breakfast for BJ. She took pride in her above-average culinary skills but found that she had little to work with at the moment. The ringing of the telephone broke the silence.

“Baylor?”

BJ recognized Hobie’s voice immediately. She grimaced at the imaginary pain the name caused her. “Why do you insist on calling me that?”

“Oh, sorry, I keep forgetting.”

“Obviously.” There was silence from the other end. “Did you call for a reason or are you just testing the line?”

“Oh, yeah. Um, I’m off to the Cove for breakfast before I go to the office, oh, in about an hour. I wondered, well, I guess I’d like to make up for flying off the handle like that yesterday. I can give you a ride down there if you haven’t eaten yet. We don’t have to sit together, but...well...I thought I’d offer. My treat, what do you say?”

BJ looked down at Arturo, who sat at her feet. He appeared to be listening intently. BJ put one hand over the receiver.

“She’s trying to suck up. What do you think? She’s offering breakfast.”

Arturo stood and wagged his tail happily.

“What do you know? You’re just hoping for a doggie bag.”

“Um, Bay…BJ? Are you there?” “Sure, sounds like a plan.”

“Great. I’ll be by in about an hour. Bye.”

BJ hung up and looked down at Arturo. “Yep, she definitely knew she was in the wrong.” She grinned at the pup. “I thought I’d give the poor girl a break and say yes. I threw her a bone. Ha! Get it? I threw her a bone. You know, a little dog humor?”

Arturo just cocked his head to one side.

“I gotta get a dog with a better sense of humor,” BJ muttered as she went off in search of Evelyn’s instruction manual. It was time to water the plants.

She had never ventured inside her grandmother’s greenhouses. Evelyn Warren had five acres of land. When BJ was a girl, the land had consisted of scrub grass and palm trees. Later, when she grew older and her visits became less frequent, Evelyn had created her dream.

Some of the buildings were like big garages, and BJ assumed they had their own independent light sources. From the outside, it appeared that only the ceiling of the long main greenhouse was made of glass. The rest of the building looked like all the others: clean, untarnished corrugated metal.

BJ wondered why the buildings had never held any interest for her before. Even odder was the fact that Evelyn had never shown BJ inside the buildings. The only thing she would say was that the greenhouses were something that reminded her of her travels around the world with her friend Aimee.

When you understand the key to happiness, Baylor, you’ll be able to appreciate my greenhouses.

BJ could hear Evelyn’s voice as if she were standing beside her. “Funny that I don’t remember her saying that till just now,” she mused aloud.

“Well, you with me, Squirt?” BJ looked down at Arturo. She held Evelyn’s operations manual in one hand, the keys in the other, while maneuvering her crutches at the same time.

They went through the back door of the house, which led to the main greenhouse. BJ was surprised to find a four-foot hallway and another door. Asign on the door said, “Temperature-Controlled Environment: Keep Door Closed.”

“Well, that’s different,” BJ said. Arturo barked in apparent agreement.

BJ opened the door to enter the greenhouse and turned to close it without looking inside. She pressed the door shut and immediately felt a humid warmth surround her. Turning and looking up, she reeled in stunned dismay.

“What the hell...I mean, wherethe hell am I?” The greenhouse was a tropical paradise. “It’s a jungle.”

BJ took a few cautious steps and watched as Arturo barked and sped off toward a large pool, complete with a fifteen-foot rock waterfall. The dog never missed a step as he launched himself into the water. He retrieved a floating object and jumped out of the pool. The small pup looked even smaller dripping wet until he shook himself with unmitigated vigor, fluffing his fur back into shape. He ran over to BJ and dropped the tennis ball at her feet.

“Ah, you’re a regular here, I see,” she said. Arturo wagged his tail in reply. “This place is amazing!” Wearing a wondering grin, she turned in a circle. “It’s like your own little Shangri-La. Too cool! So, Tanti, why have you been hiding this from me all these years?”

Armed with her grandmother’s instructions, BJ followed a stone path to the west side of the greenhouse. The tropical plants were dense in this portion of the building, and she was hot and sweaty by the time she reached her destination. Without Evelyn’s detailed drawings, BJ never would have found the hidden plastic and metal boxes that contained the watering system’s controls.

BJ looked at key number two. It was marked along the top as “main: lock boxes 1-3.” She easily opened all three hinged lids and looked over the contents of the boxes. Each contained ten knobs that appeared to be water shut-off valves. Each row of knobs had a different color of plastic coating. Letters identified each knob, and each knob had numbers around its base like a clock, one through twelve.

“All righty then,” BJ said as she leaned in to take a closer look. She squinted and studied the knobs with intense fascination. “There it is, all right...a bunch of totally unidentifiable knobs.

Geez!” She pulled out her drawings and scanned them. “What the hell is this, Tanti? What do I look like—an engineer? How do these old broads do this?”

BJ had a quick flashback just then. She was in the house and the old woman from next door had just handed her the enormous set of keys. Okay, Beej. Note to self. The next time someone asks you if you’d like them to run through the steps involved in anything, you just nod politely and say yes.

“We can do this, eh, Squirt?” BJ spoke to Arturo, who had found a high perch on some twisted tree roots that resembled the bottom of a mangrove tree. “I mean, it’s right here in black and white.” She indicated the manual in her hand. “How hard can it be?”

Arturo let out a tiny whimper, which didn’t seem like a good omen to her. She decided to overlook her new friend’s lack of confidence. Usually, she would have been the first to admit her own limitations when working with her hands. When she thought about it later, she realized she had never done anything like this before. She paid people to do mundane physical chores, even if they were in her realm of capability. She couldn’t remember ever attempting to do something like fixing a leaky sink or changing her own flat tire.

“Okay, let’s give this sucker a shot, shall we?” BJ held up the instructions in one hand and began turning knobs with the other.

Finally reading all of the small print that Evelyn had added to the instructions, BJ learned that the tightly sealed building was a rainforest, complete with its own storms. When set to exact specifications via the colored knobs, the system controlled every aspect of the watering of the main greenhouse. The system knew exactly how much rain to add and when to add it to the carefully maintained environment. The key was to set the controls differently each day of the week, then begin all over again on Monday.

“Red H-4...Blue C-10...Green F-1. Geez, I feel like I’m playing Twister, or at the very least calling bingo. Okay, only a few more to go.” BJ completed the last few turns as the instructions indicated. “Ha! Don’t tell me I got no skills.” She stood back and folded her arms across her chest, a gloating smirk on her face. Glancing down at the instructions again to double-check her work, BJ stared in disbelief at the next paragraph. “Under no circumstances should you adjust the last knob in the series before making sure you have a clear path to the outside door. The system begins two and one-half minutes after last knob adjustment.”

“Oh, Tanti! Do you think you could have written this before you told me how to move the last knob?” BJ cried out in frustration.

Aheartbeat later, a siren sounded over BJ’s head, causing her to involuntarily duck. “Oh, that can’t be good. Come on, Squirt. We gotta book or we could end up in the middle of a typhoon.”

That was about the point where things started to unravel for BJ. She was suddenly faced with the unenviable task of grabbing the manual, the keys, and a small wiggly dog and crutching herself out of the dense undergrowth of tropical plants. Everything would have been fine, too, if it hadn’t been for the rubber stoppers at the bottom of her crutches.

BJ had breathed a sigh of relief, juggling her items. The door that exited into the backyard was within sight. Her progression came to a jerking halt, however, when her crutch slipped between the rocks in the path. She tugged once to free herself but overestimated the strength of her pull. All of the objects that she had precariously balanced within her hands took flight, including Arturo.

“Shit!”

The dog made a perfect four-paw landing and stood barking before the door.

“Oh, fuck this!” BJ threw the trapped crutch to the ground. She hopped on one foot and threw open the door for Arturo to escape. Asound like a distant, rolling thunder came from overhead. “Great, sound effects to boot.”

BJ bent to retrieve the manual and tossed it through the door. She turned around to grab the keys and was hit full in the face with a spray of water from a sprinkler jet that lay hidden among the plants. “Jesus Chr—”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what would happen next. While BJ was busy fighting off the water, she lost her footing on the now slick rocks. Her good luck continued to hold out, however. She fell, but instead of cracking open her skull on the stony path, she landed in a patch of elephant ear plants. The bad news was that by this time, the misters and sprinklers had all come on full force. The elephant ear patch was much softer than the rocks, but it hadn’t taken long for the ground to turn to mud.

“Motherfu—” BJ rolled toward the path, covered in mud and soaking wet, just as another sprinkler hit her in the face with a sudden jet of water. She crawled, rolled, and finally threw her body through the greenhouse door.

She fell to the ground and rolled onto her back. She lay that way in the heat of the sun for a few moments, which felt a lot longer than they actually were. Opening her eyes, she squinted and held a hand up to shade off the brilliant sunlight. A familiar head popped into view, towering over her.

“Why did I know you were in the area?” BJ said.

“Good Lord, what happened to you?” Hobie looked down at BJ, who looked as though she had just rolled through a mud puddle.

Arturo picked that moment to hop onto BJ’s stomach to be a part of things.

“Who...us? Oh, nothing much, just doing a little gardening.” Hobie didn’t mean to smile at her predicament, but the sight of

Baylor Warren—the usually cool, self-possessed woman—lying on the ground covered in mud and bits of leaves with a small dog attached to her was more than she could stand. She smiled, then had to hold her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Let me give you a hand.”

“No, no, I’m good, thanks.” BJ dismissed the offer with a wave. She casually wiped some mud from her cheek and clasped her hands loosely across her middle. She lay there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “So...how are you?”

That’s when Hobie full-on lost it. She wanted to stop, especially when she noticed that the harder she laughed, the stonier BJ’s expression grew.

“Are we all done now?” BJ asked when Hobie finally slowed to intermittent giggles.

“I’m sorry, but you have to admit—”

“Yeah, yeah...laugh at a woman when she’s down. I know your type.”

“Come on. Let me help you clean up.” “Nah, go on. You’ll be late for work.”

“Hey, I’m the boss. I get to make the rules. Come on.” Hobie held out her hand once more.

“Geez, I’m falling apart,” BJ said. “Yep, it’s hell getting old.”

“No, I mean I’m really falling apart.” BJ held up a small chunk of plaster for Hobie’s inspection.

“Wow, that shouldn’t be happening.” Hobie bent down to examine the top of BJ’s crumbling cast.

“Ya think?” BJ’s sarcastic words were lost on Hobie, who seemed more concerned with her patient’s cast.

“Okay, Evel Knievel, time to patch you up.”

“You better take those clothes off at the door or you’re going to get mud on everything in sight,” Hobie said.

“Um, no, I won’t. It’ll be okay.”

“You’re covered from head to foot with mud that’s an inch thick!”

“It’s not that bad,” BJ countered.

“Look, I am a doctor. You don’t even have to take off your underwear if your sensibilities are that delicate.”

“I just can’t, okay?”

“Geez. Don’t be so silly.” Hobie made a move toward BJ’s waist and the drawstring of her pants.

“Look, I said I don’t need any help.” BJ slapped at Hobie’s hands.

“I’m trying to help you—”

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” BJ said loudly. “What?”

“What, you don’t think the neighbors heard what I said the first time?”

“Oh,” Hobie said. Suddenly, she had a vision of exactly what

Baylor Warren looked like without the aforementioned garment covering her most intimate of body parts. She could feel the heat rising within her own body, creeping up her neck, and settling on her face.

“What’s wrong with you?” “Huh? Oh, um...nothing.” “Are you blushing?”

“No! I most certainly am not.”

“Yes, you are.” BJ laughed and added a smirk for good measure. “You’re thinking about what I look like under there, aren’t you?” She leaned closer. “Shame on you, Doc.”

“I am not! Besides, why aren’t you wearing any underwear?”

BJ arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, God, forget I asked that. It’s none of my business and I really don’t want to know.”

BJ smiled as Hobie’s blush increased. She didn’t have the heart to continue embarrassing the flustered woman. She grew serious and lowered her voice, even though there wasn’t anyone else around. “I can’t get them on. My arms aren’t long enough with this cast on. As it is, I have to use a coat hanger to pull up the sweatpants. Between you and me, I’ve never really considered dressing to be a team sport. I prefer it solo, if you don’t mind.”

Awave of sympathy passed through Hobie. She realized how hard it must have been for BJ to admit to that. Not that being caught sans skivvies would shake BJ’s sexual confidence any, but Hobie understood how difficult it was for BJ to acknowledge that she couldn’t do everything herself. That admission caused her to appear vulnerable and human.

“Do you have a robe?” Hobie asked.

“Yeah, inside the bathroom on this floor. It’s hanging on a hook inside the door.”

“Okay, I’ll get it,” Hobie said.

BJ watched as Hobie left the room. She leaned heavily on both crutches, thanks to Hobie, who had waited for a pause in the greenhouse’s tropical storm and rushed in to retrieve the lost one.

BJ undressed, took a shower, and got dressed in clean clothes. She kept her self-respect, mostly due to Hobie’s adept and tactful handling of the incident.

Riding in Hobie’s now surprisingly clean truck, BJ watched Hobie out of the corner of one eye. Their breakfast outing had turned into a trip to Hobie’s surgicenter to recast BJ’s leg. They rode along in silence, but BJ’s mind was anything but still. She could only wonder at the tender compassions that this stranger, whom BJ had done nothing but spar with, showed her. It was true, they seemed to butt heads more often than not, but this woman caused BJ to feel something other than what she usually felt for women. It was definitely a feeling that made BJ feel good, but she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t enjoy feeling things and not knowing why. And when it came to Hobie Lynn Allen, BJ found that she had an awful lot of feelings she couldn’t account for.

“Thanks, Mack,” BJ said.

“No problem. Thanks for this.” He patted the paper sack in the seat next to him. “Hobie Lynn forgets to eat when she gets busy, then she hits the mat.”

“Hey, she helped me out this morning.” BJ indicated the new cast with a nod. “Her office looked pretty busy, so I came to the Cove, gave you a call, and here you are.”

“Well, thanks anyway. Sometimes she needs a keeper, ya know what I mean?”

“Lemme ask you something.” BJ bent down and leaned against the open passenger side window. “The first day I got here, you said you knocked me down when we were kids. You said something about it being because I told your sister she was ugly. Mack, you got more than one sister?”

“I always thought one was more than enough, thanks. Besides, Hobie Lynn gave me enough grief for ten sisters when we were growing up,” Mack said with a smile.

“Shit.” BJ hung her head. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“If it helps you any, Hobie doesn’t even remember it. She was all of four or five, so I wouldn’t sweat it too much. Why do you suddenly care so much, anyway?”

“I guess I just felt like I owed her or something. I mean, she fixed my leg and...you know...” BJ trailed off nervously. Why did she suddenly feel so tongue-tied talking about Hobie?

“Right,” Mack seemingly agreed with a small grin. “I better get Sis her lunch. What are you gonna do after you eat? Need me to swing by and give you a ride home?”

“Nah, I’ll just wander, then try walking home. I can handle it.”

“I do a drive down Main Street again at three thirty. If you find you want a ride, just park yourself on the bench outside of the bakery around then.”

“You got it. Thanks, Mack.” BJ waved goodbye and watched the patrol car pull away from the curb.