the other door and looked up at me shyly. No recognition at all. Although I knew from their reactions I had successfully acquired an entirely new look, I wasn’t sure this was the result I wanted. “It can’t be that bad.”
My father shook his head slowly, at a loss for words. The answer came from my grandmother, who had once again slipped into the kitchen from behind. Nasty habit of hers. “You look like a hussy,” she hissed. I turned around and stared at her, wondering where she dug up these expressions.
“What’s a hussy ?” Anika wanted to know.
“Hussy,” Mom choked, doubling over with laughter. Finally, she composed herself enough to add, “Ashla, it’ll never matter what you do to yourself, you’ll always be gorgeous.” She stifled another gale of laughter. “It was a shock, that’s all,” she explained. “You look so different. But I don’t think black hair really works for you, and the contacts are covering up your fantastic eyes.”
“She looks like a hooker,” my grandmother barked. “And how’d you get brown eyes all of sudden? They make dye for them too?”
“What’s a hooker ?” Anika demanded.
I turned back to my father. “Dad?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m no judge of these things, Ashla, you know that. I like you just the way you are. Why the getup?”
“It’s just a look I wanted to try. No biggie.” I hated myself for this, but they would never understand how important it was for me not to be recognized by Justin Ledger. It was the only way I could walk right up to him without him recognizing me.
“She’s pretty,” Anika declared, staring up at me with adoration. I scooped her up. “A fan. That’s good. So, let’s clean up the salad dressing and have dinner.”
Celeste
CHAPTER SIX
Ashla had been out of the hospital almost three weeks when she talked me into driving her to Harborside Medical where Justin Ledger was currently in residence. It was Saturday, so Seattle traffic wasn’t bad, for Seattle, that is. We fought for a parking spot, paid, got lost in the hospital, and headed up an elevator toward what we hoped was the right floor in the right building. Ashla had done her homework and phoned to find out where he was. Now, we had to summon the courage for her to do what she felt she had to do; but first, we had to check in with Linda Murphy and pick up our volunteer badges and the magazine cart.
Pleased to have fresh volunteers, Linda plucked our volunteer badges—no names thank goodness—from her desk and stood up to pin them on each of us. “Wonderful to have young people giving back,” she panted as she dragged the cart out from behind a bookstand and maneuvered it over to us. We pushed the overloaded cart into the elevator, and as it rose up the shaft, I glanced at my lifelong friend, barely recognizing her.
Ashla adjusted and readjusted the black wig. Then, she pulled out a tattered tissue and wiped her eyes. Having never worn contacts, they made her eyes and nose run incessantly.
“Feels like I’ve got miniature saucers in my eyeballs,” she sniffled. “He’s going to think I’m contagious.”
“Maybe, but he won’t recognize you,” I said to console her. Not only was her fantastic hair being hidden by a black matte of short, straight hair, but her lovely green eyes were now teary brown. She had applied pink foundation over her fair skin to diminish the freckles and nasty bruising from the accident. “You’re shaking,” I said, looking at the magazines quaking in her hands. She had bought him an array of guy-type magazines without a clue what he was into, other than hockey. Ashla cast a sideways glance in my direction. “So are you,” she retorted, “and you’re not even going into his room.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to find some sense of calm. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this. The whole thing is nerve wracking. And I don’t get the disguise thing. Why not just walk into his room,
My father shook his head slowly, at a loss for words. The answer came from my grandmother, who had once again slipped into the kitchen from behind. Nasty habit of hers. “You look like a hussy,” she hissed. I turned around and stared at her, wondering where she dug up these expressions.
“What’s a hussy ?” Anika wanted to know.
“Hussy,” Mom choked, doubling over with laughter. Finally, she composed herself enough to add, “Ashla, it’ll never matter what you do to yourself, you’ll always be gorgeous.” She stifled another gale of laughter. “It was a shock, that’s all,” she explained. “You look so different. But I don’t think black hair really works for you, and the contacts are covering up your fantastic eyes.”
“She looks like a hooker,” my grandmother barked. “And how’d you get brown eyes all of sudden? They make dye for them too?”
“What’s a hooker ?” Anika demanded.
I turned back to my father. “Dad?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m no judge of these things, Ashla, you know that. I like you just the way you are. Why the getup?”
“It’s just a look I wanted to try. No biggie.” I hated myself for this, but they would never understand how important it was for me not to be recognized by Justin Ledger. It was the only way I could walk right up to him without him recognizing me.
“She’s pretty,” Anika declared, staring up at me with adoration. I scooped her up. “A fan. That’s good. So, let’s clean up the salad dressing and have dinner.”
Celeste
CHAPTER SIX
Ashla had been out of the hospital almost three weeks when she talked me into driving her to Harborside Medical where Justin Ledger was currently in residence. It was Saturday, so Seattle traffic wasn’t bad, for Seattle, that is. We fought for a parking spot, paid, got lost in the hospital, and headed up an elevator toward what we hoped was the right floor in the right building. Ashla had done her homework and phoned to find out where he was. Now, we had to summon the courage for her to do what she felt she had to do; but first, we had to check in with Linda Murphy and pick up our volunteer badges and the magazine cart.
Pleased to have fresh volunteers, Linda plucked our volunteer badges—no names thank goodness—from her desk and stood up to pin them on each of us. “Wonderful to have young people giving back,” she panted as she dragged the cart out from behind a bookstand and maneuvered it over to us. We pushed the overloaded cart into the elevator, and as it rose up the shaft, I glanced at my lifelong friend, barely recognizing her.
Ashla adjusted and readjusted the black wig. Then, she pulled out a tattered tissue and wiped her eyes. Having never worn contacts, they made her eyes and nose run incessantly.
“Feels like I’ve got miniature saucers in my eyeballs,” she sniffled. “He’s going to think I’m contagious.”
“Maybe, but he won’t recognize you,” I said to console her. Not only was her fantastic hair being hidden by a black matte of short, straight hair, but her lovely green eyes were now teary brown. She had applied pink foundation over her fair skin to diminish the freckles and nasty bruising from the accident. “You’re shaking,” I said, looking at the magazines quaking in her hands. She had bought him an array of guy-type magazines without a clue what he was into, other than hockey. Ashla cast a sideways glance in my direction. “So are you,” she retorted, “and you’re not even going into his room.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to find some sense of calm. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this. The whole thing is nerve wracking. And I don’t get the disguise thing. Why not just walk into his room,
Similar Books
Dacey: Bride of North Carolina (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 12)
Shanna Hatfield
Conquerors of the Sky
Thomas Fleming
STUNG (Dark Erotic Romance)
Alana Marlowe
The Secret War (Jack Blank Adventure)
Matt Myklusch
Princess Charming
Beth Pattillo
Stolen Treasures
Summer Waters
100 Days
Nicole McInnes
War Classics
Flora Johnston
Secrets in the Dark
KD Blakely
Joy of Witchcraft
Mindy Klasky