Page 1 of Scooter's Endgame
1
SCOOTER
For once the waiting room at Riverton General is fairly quiet. Not many people are here as I wait with Gator for his follow up appointment. The injury he suffered to the shoulder in our last mission seems to be worrying him more than first expected, so I offered to drive him.
“Mr. Soren – Godric Soren?” a nurse calls from the doorway.
Gator gets to his feet and ambles over to her. “Yes, ma’am. That would be me.” He gives her one of the smiles he’s known for – the panty-melting one – and, as expected, it works its magic.
I shake my head, laughing to myself as I watch the show. A woman and little boy skirt around Gator and head for the cashier’s desk. Something about the woman seems familiar, but with my attention focused on Gator and the nurse, I didn’t get a good look at her.
Gator disappears, and I take my phone out to occupy myself while I wait. Time passes, and I finally make it through a particularly difficult level of my game and decide it’s time for coffee. Getting to my feet, I glance over to where the woman is still standing at the desk. Odd. And her body language is screaming tension.
The coffee machine is close to where she’s standing, and I can’t help but overhear the cashier tell the woman that the insurance company has informed her that the health insurance was cancelled a couple weeks ago.
“Oh my God, what?” Distress is clear in her voice.
I turn to look over at her and immediately recognize her. Kathleen Pierce is the fiancée of one of my colleagues – a SEAL on one of the other teams on base. I walk over to where she’s standing.
“Hey, Kathleen. Everything all right?” I ask, not wanting to let on I’ve overheard anything.
She looks over at me with panicked eyes, huge like those of a deer caught in headlights. But like a trooper, she gives me a weak smile. “Hey, Beckett. All good, thanks. Areyouokay?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Just here with Gator.”
“Ah, okay.” She nods, but her words dry up. Kathleen stands there, shifting from foot to foot, and it’s clear she’s waiting for me to move on.
Not wanting to add to her difficulties, I do just that.
“I’m sorry – are you absolutely sure you have the right account? That’s impossible that my insurance has been cancelled.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Pierce. I double-checked with the admin lady, and she confirmed that this insurance policy has been cancelled. Mr. Grimes not only called to cancel but then followed it up with an email confirming his instructions.”
Silence greets the woman’s words. Yes, I’m shamelessly eavesdropping because I’m concerned about Kathleen. Her son stands quietly by her side, but you can see he’s picked up on her distress and is upset by extension.
With a deep sigh, she rummages around in her purse and pulls her wallet out. Taking a card out, she hands it over to the cashier, anxiety clearly stamped on her tired face. I can’t help but wonder how long she’s been here.
The tense silence is broken by her son having a coughing fit that has Kathleen dropping to her haunches in front of him. “We’ll get you home soon, okay, buddy?”
She hands him an inhaler when the coughing spell eventually stops. “Okay, Mommy.”
The cashier clears her throat, and Kathleen stands to face her. The woman looks uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Miss. The card has been declined.”
The shock on Kathleen’s face speaks volumes. “I’m sorry, that’s – how can that be? There must be some mistake.”
“I’ve tried it three times, Ms. Pierce.”
She takes another card out of her wallet and hands it to the cashier, who takes it in silence. After another wait, fraught with anxiety, the cashier hands the card back to Kathleen, and before she even says the words, I know what she’s going to say.
“This one too?” Kathleen all but wails, her voice thick with tears. The woman simply nods, a look of compassion on her face. “Can you give me a moment?”
The cashier nods, and Kathleen walks away over to the wall of vending machines at the back of the room. I know I should be embarrassed, prying so shamelessly into her private affairs, but it’s my nature to help where I can, especially if it’s someone I know.
In this instance, it’s not just someone I know, it’s someone I care about. Not that she is aware of how I feel – I would never tell her, because she’s someone else’s woman, and breaking up a home is not my thing.
Just by looking at her – her body language, the look on her face, the way she’s constantly running her hand through already disheveled hair – I can tell things are not going well. Whomever Kathleen’s calling is clearly not picking up, but she keeps trying. When she finally admits defeat, I watch as tears start down her face before she turns her back to the room.
Her little boy, Luke, quiet as always, pats her hand, a sad look on his face no child of his age should ever have.
