The Nurse's Not-So-Secret Scandal by Wendy S. Marcus

Author:Wendy S. Marcus
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

AFTER they left the hospital, Fig made Roxie breakfast back at the condo. Then they took advantage of having her house to themselves to do some preliminary cleanup.

“I think there’s a push broom in here somewhere,” Roxie said, crawling across a mound of bulging plastic garbage bags into the far corner of what he’d learned was the family room.

Fig walked down the hall. “What’s behind this door?” He tried the knob.

“No!” Roxie yelled. “Don’t go in there.”

But he’d already shouldered open a space large enough for him to stick his head inside. Unbelievable. Bags and boxes and loose…stuff were piled from floor to ceiling in every corner, chest high up to the window on the far wall, sloping down to thigh high around the door. Dust motes hung in the air, illuminated by the sunlight. Based on the dank smell and the layer of dust covering everything, that door hadn’t been opened in years. He sneezed.

“Step away from that door,” Roxie ordered, awkwardly trying to hurry to flat, stable ground.

“This door?” Fig pushed on it again in an attempt to create an opening big enough for him to squeeze through. When he succeeded, he slipped inside. As soon as he released his hold on it, under the weight of more bulging white garbage bags stuffed with clothes, the door promptly slammed behind him.

Roxie knocked. “Are you okay?”

“Afraid I was sucked inside by the monster behind the door?”

“Ha-ha. Open up.”

“Easier said than done.” He bent to lift some bags to toss them away to make room. Only, each time he moved one, something or things slid into its place. He sneezed again.

“Please tell me you’re not allergic to dust,” Roxie said through the door. “I told you to buy yourself a mask when we picked up the work gloves and cleaning supplies.”

He hadn’t wanted to insult her by wearing a mask in her home. The gloves, however—two pairs—were a necessity. A few minutes later he had enough of an area cleared to fully open the door.

Roxie walked in, her eyes wide. “Holy cow.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been in here?”

“Seven years.”

Fig climbed up on two stacks of old newspapers to survey the mess from a higher vantage point.

“Articles from Dad’s bowling wins and the boys’ sporting events,” Roxy said.

He picked his way deeper into the room, climbed over an old red metal tricycle. Something tilted beneath him. He started to slide and caught hold of the head on a life-size plastic Santa to steady himself.

“Be careful,” Roxie cautioned. “Where are you going?”

“To open the window to get some fresh air in here.”

He climbed higher, slower, the piles more unstable. To the left he noticed a softball-sized hole in the corner where the ceiling met the outer wall. He pointed. “I think you may have something living in here.” He scanned the room for movement, but seeing none he continued on.

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