Chapter 10

I'm not sure what woke me, but my eyes opened and there wouldn't be going back to sleep for awhile. At some point in our nap, Brad and I had changed positions. He was on his back and my head was resting on his chest.

I glanced at the clock. It was almost seven-thirty.

Sitting up, I brushed my fingers through the curls on his forehead. Then I kissed the tip of his nose, followed by his lips, lingering and flicking my tongue. When he sighed, I traced my mouth over his chin to his neck.

His breathing changed and I knew he was coming out of his dreams.

Grinning, I nibbled the sensitive spot on his shoulder.

He groaned and shifted his body.

When I looked at him, his eyes were closed, but he had a smile on his face.

As I continued to luxuriate in him, caressing his skin with warm kisses and teasing him with tender nips, his soft moans filled my ears and pulled at depths inside me that were only his to reach, until a yell from outside brought us both down to earth.

"Virginia!" Joyie was practically screaming my name. "Open up, Judas!"

"Something doesn't sound right," Brad said as I got up and began pulling on my clothes.

She screamed out again, using language that a sailor would be proud of.

I sighed. "She's drunk."

"She drinks?"

"Among other things." I opened the door. "I'll talk with her and she'll pass out on the couch."

"Virginia! I know you're in there! Open the damn door!"

I've dealt with Joyie before when she's been drinking. She's usually like Otis, the town drunk, on Andy Griffith, but whatever she was at the moment, was as far from Mayberry as The Bronx. So, when I opened the door I was braced for a fight. I wasn't prepared to see her dad's service revolver in her hand.

Feeling my heart almost stop and then start again, beating in a rhythm that made me feel weird, I blurted out, "Joyie Ann Adkins, what the hell are you doing with your dad's gun?"

Her laugh chilled me to the bone. She pointed the barrel of the weapon at me.

I backed away from her and she followed me into the living room, where I bumped into the back of the sofa.

Stopping, a few feet away from me, she said,"You bitch. You ratted me out."

"What?"

"You know what."

"Joyie, you're drunk and you're not making any sense. Please put the gun down and let's talk."

"What's to talk about? You told Doug when I'd be back in today; and he met me at the airport. Guess, who he saw me come off the plane with."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. And it's because of you and your high and mighty ethics. You just couldn't keep your damn mouth shut."

"Joyie, please put the gun down before somebody gets hurt."

She giggled. "You mean you don't you?"

"Dammit, Joyie! This is not funny."

The whole time we were talking I was running through several ideas in my head to get the gun away from her, none of which were anywhere near workable. The only thing I could think to do was rush her. Maybe she would be so off-balanced by my attack she wouldn't pull the trigger. Even if the gun did go off, she was so drunk she couldn't possibly hit anything. I had decided that theory wasn't real brilliant, either, when my bedroom door opened and Brad said, "Joyie, your dad is on the way over."

Seeing her arm move, I went for her, and managed to get her onto the floor. The gun somehow ended up between us and went off, sounding like a ton of dynamite.

Joyie cried out and stopped struggling.

At that moment, I heard Mom's voice inside my head telling me not to panic. Then she started giving me orders and I followed them. Everything from telling Brad to call for an ambulance, to finding where Joyie was hurt and putting pressure on the wound in her lower abdomen where she was bleeding, and positioning her to hopefully keep her from going into shock.

I talked to her the whole time, doing everything I'd been trained to do; all the while praying that she wouldn't stop breathing. I knew CPR, but I didn't think I she would come back if she left us.

She kept responding to me, complaining now and then about the pain in her stomach. I told her everything would be okay. Then, she started crying; and was still crying when her dad arrived. He and the ambulance managed to arrive at the same time.

They loaded all of us up and took us to the hospital.