Page 44 of Bringing Chelsea Home

He leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. “I can’t think of anything I’d like better,” he said. “But I’d still hate for him to come in and find us all naked and stuff, so let’s get up,” and moved before the pillow she was swinging made contact.

Leftovers satisfied them, but even after the cheese and fruit plate, Elaine said, “You know. I’m craving something really sweet.”

“I think there are chocolate chip cookies in that tin up there.” Griff pointed at the top of a wall cabinet. “Not sure why Patrick put them up there, but I think there are some. Let me get the footstool and I’ll get it down.”

“Be careful,” Elaine warned as he took the three-step stool from the pantry and unfolded it. “Are you sure that thing is safe? It looks sort of rickety.”

“It’s fine,” Griff said, climbing up. “And it’s only three steps. I might have to stand on tippy-toe to reach it but–holy crap!”

The stool collapsed, bringing him down hard on his bad knee, his left-hand folding back as he curled up, and his right arm curled around his chest.

“Griff!” Elaine knelt on the floor beside him. “Lord help us. Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he moaned. “Geez-oh-pete, everywhere.”

“Hey kids!” Patrick’s voice called from the living room. “I’ve brought a guest to dinner! Where are–”

He stooped in the kitchen doorway and stared. A much shorter man with a neatly trimmed beard peered around him and for a moment, the only sound was Griff’s soft groans.

“Well, well,” said the shorter man. “Guess it’s a good thing that this old doctor still makes house calls.”

CHAPTER21

Monday Morning

“Like I toldyou last night, you’re to stay off that leg for at least twenty-four hours,” Major Phillip Bryant, MD, USMC pronounced. “Except for walking to the bathroom, don’t even think about doing anything else.”

“But–”

“I mean it, Lieutenant Tyler. We both may be retired, but I still outrank you. So, keep your ass in a chair. Got it?” Bryant’s expression dared Griff to argue.

“Yes, sir,” Griff said, slumping in his chair at the dining table. “I guess I can finish my research.”

“As long as you’re sitting down, you can re-invent the wheel,” Bryant said. “Think about trying something, I’ll call Hank Patterson and you can talk to him about it.”

“I understand,” Griff said quickly. Hank Patterson was adamant about those who served in BP not taking unnecessary risks while in the field. Falling off a stool while reaching for a tin of cookies wasn’t quite the same thing, but he was still stuck in a chair for at least another twelve hours.

And his knee hurt like hell. Only good thing was waking up this morning with Elaine beside him this morning.

“Then I’ll leave you to whatever you can figure out,” Bryant said. “Call me if you need me. Danton.” He nodded at Patrick. “Ms. Prescott.”

He let himself out. The door had barely closed behind him when Griff shouted an oath he’d learned in Central America, most of it foul and very nearly profane.

“Do I get a translation of that?” Elaine called from the kitchen where she was making fresh coffee.

“No, ma’am,” Griff grumped. “You’d be washing my mouth out with soap if I told you.”

“That would be interesting to watch.” Patrick grinned from his place next to Griff. “I’ll bet we could sell tickets to that.”

“Shut-up, Danton,” Griff growled as Elaine returned with three cups and put them on the table. Handing one to Griff, she asked, “So what are we going to do today?”

“I guess consolidate everything we know from the lists Aunt Sally sent.” Griff ran a hand over his face in thought. “Call Marty and see if he’s remembered anything? I don’t know.”

“Let’s wait until this afternoon to do that,” Elaine suggested. “I’ll bet he and his family were up half the night still talking and celebrating.”

“You’re right,” Griff admitted. “I think I’ll call Aunt Sally later instead of texting. Human voice contact, you know?”

From the bedroom, Elaine’s phone trilled. “Early start,” she said and headed that way.

---