Page 14 of Trash the Dress

But I can’t wait for the hour or so it’d probably take her to get here the way I’m feeling. I decide to call the front desk of the B&B. A woman answers but it doesn’t sound like the woman who checked me in yesterday.

“Uh, yes, I’m in room twelve. I’m afraid I’ve contracted a bad case of food poisoning and may be dehydrated. I didn’t want to call an ambulance if I didn’t have to, but I don’t think I’m in any shape to drive myself to the hospital. Are there any transportation services that could take me? A cab or something? I can call an ambulance, but I didn’t want to alarm you or the other guests,” I manage to say while keeping my urge to dry heave again at bay.

“Oh no! Um, this B and B is my sister’s place. She stepped out for a few minutes, but I can try to help you. I’m Dr. Leah Barnette,” she says.

“You’re a doctor?” I ask optimistically.

“Well, I’m a psychologist, not a medical doctor. But I can discreetly call the fire department. They can transport you without all the lights and sirens,” she tells me.

“Thank you. I would appreciate that so much.”

“Do you need me to come help you after I call them? I can help you get dressed if you need me to. Food poisoning can suck the life out of you, I know,” she says, and the way she says so, she must’ve experienced a bout of it firsthand.

“I think I can manage, if not, I’ll call you back,” I say as I try to get on my knees from the floor.

“Okay, I’ll call now, Miss…” She trails off unsure of my name.

“I’m Scarlett Shepard. Thank you,” I say, and end the call.

I push myself to all fours and hold the sink to steady myself. The image in the mirror shocks me. I’m so pale, I almost have a green tint. Is that even possible or all in my head?

I grab my brush and pull it through my unruly locks before twisting it up and securing it with a clip. I don’t bother witha toothbrush, instead I swish the mouthrinse provided by this quaint little B and B.

I splash a little water on my face and pad carefully to my suitcase. Luckily, I packed my favorite sweatshirt and some yoga pants. I slip on my sandals, and as I’m glancing down at my white polished toes, I sway a little and grab the bed before I fall.

I decide to sit on the bed while I wait and call Dr. Leah back. She answers on the first ring.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m dressed and ready, but I think I’m going to wait on the bed. I’m a little unsteady from all the puking.”

“I can come sit with you. The guys I called know what room you’re in,” she says.

I almost decline her offer but decide I wouldn’t mind the company while I wait.

A couple minutes later she’s in my room. She must be close to my age if I had to guess. Late twenties or early thirties. Her hair is a golden-chestnut brown. She’s fair-skinned and built like me—a woman with curves. She’s beautiful.

“Hi. I’m Leah. Sorry we’re meeting under such crummy circumstances.”

“Nice to meet you. I appreciate you helping me,” I tell her, feeling grateful someone is with me.

“It’s no problem. What do you think you ate that made you sick?”

I touch my stomach. “I’m an interior designer and had a meeting with some of my clients for lunch. I ate a salad.”

Dr. Leah wrinkles her nose as if she’s been burned by the same leafy poison before.

“Yeah. Salads are hit and miss sometimes. But I really wanted one yesterday. I paid for it unfortunately.”

She smiles at me knowingly. “We’ve all been there I’m afraid. The guys will be here in just a few minutes. Can I get you some water or ginger ale while you wait? Saltine crackers maybe?”

“I’ll just throw it back up, but I appreciate the offer,” I tell her.

“Dr. Leah?” A male voice comes from down the hall.

She pokes her head out in the hallway. “Down here, Dean.”

I glance up right as two men—two firemen—walk through the door of my room. I start to stand, but the room spins a little, forcing me to drop back down on the bed.

A dark-eyed, dark-haired fireman rushes over while the other one says something about a gurney before leaving the room.

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