Scarlett emitted a small sound of pleasure at the first touch of the silky soft fabric of the shirt against her skin, knowing instinctively that it had been made of pure organic cotton. Blue was one of her better colors, one that didn’t clash oddly with her hair, and the deep indigo shade complimented her eyes nicely. Lastly, she slid her feet into the ballet flats, sighing anew at how comfortable they felt.
The identity of who had sent the clothes over remained a mystery, but there really weren’t all that many candidates to consider. She instantly dismissed Ananda, knowing that her boss wouldn’t spend this kind of money, and that the older woman nearly always bought her clothes secondhand or from a few close friends who wove their own fabrics by hand. Margie and Roz were a definite possibility, but they tended to shop at the big discount chains like Target or Old Navy, and probably wouldn’t have been able to afford nice duds like these.
That left three other possibilities. She dismissed the first one – Neil - right away. Oh, he could certainly afford to buy her an outfit like this, but she was most likely the very last person on his mind right now. The second possibility was Doctor Parks. She guessed that he made a decent living as a doctor, and he had definitely felt sorry for her after her meltdown the day before. He had been kind to her throughout this whole process, and it was entirely feasible he would have been behind this. Except, thought Scarlett with a frown, buying one of your patients clothes and shoes was something very personal, far more so than buying them a burger and milkshake.
The last possibility was that the clothes had come from Jackson. That he had finally realized what an asshole he’d been for the past week or so, and guiltily decided to try and make it up to her. Just how he’d managed to smuggle the new clothes in and the old ones out was beyond her level of comprehension right now, but she figured if someone had enough money and influence almost anything was doable.
Scarlett finished dressing and then grabbed her phone, scrolling through it quickly for any new messages. There was Ananda’s usual good morning and blessings for the day ahead text, but no other messages. She bit her bottom lip uncertainly, wondering yet again why she kept expecting to hear from Jackson. If he had, in fact, had these new clothes sent over to her, then why wouldn’t he be asking if she had received them, if they fit, if she liked them, etc.
She grinned mischievously as the temptation to text him grew stronger, something along the lines of “hey, do you have my underwear? I seem to be missing a set”. Scarlett guffawed at the thought, especially if Jackson’s perfect blonde girlfriend happened to see the message. But even as she dismissed the thought - too ballsy even for someone like her to pull off - she realized that the chances of his girlfriend seeing any of his texts was practically nil. Jackson had his phone password protected, he had told her on one occasion, and he changed the password every other day. At the time he’d told her it was because he didn’t trust his father and brothers not to poke their nose into his personal business, but now Scarlett wondered if maybe he didn’t want his girlfriend to have access to his phone data, either.
She shrugged it off, figuring it had nothing to do with her, just as she set aside the urge to text him, whether teasingly or not. Her reluctance had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that society as a whole still believed that the guy should be the one to call the girl. She was a big time feminist, and had never been one to see the male as the only one to call the shots in a relationship, especially after the losers she had dated who’d all seemed to both like and need to be controlled or mothered. Besides, she and Jackson didn’t actually have a relationship. And she was still so pissed off at him that there was zero chance of her making the first move to reach out.
Doctor Parks arrived a few minutes later, smiling as he greeted her. “Good morning, Scarlett. Ready to get out of here?”
“I was ready two days ago,” she retorted. “If it was up to me I would have been waking up in a king sized bed in my hotel room this morning, and ordered a breakfast that was actually edible.”
He chuckled as he consulted a form on the clipboard he carried. “And that answers my next question - how are you feeling? I’ll just put down sassy and smart-alecky. Seriously, though. You doing okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, not bad. The pain is a lot better this morning. Not great, but at least I don’t look like a gimpy old man.”
He glanced up from his clipboard, his eyes twinkling as they took in her new clothes. “Not even a little bit,” he agreed. “Except for still being way too thin and a little peaked, you look lovely. That shade of blue is perfect for you. Not, of course, that I know anything about colors or clothes. My wife picks out all my suits and ties and even sets them out for me. Otherwise, I’d probably be wearing a brown suit with a gray shirt and a red tie.”
“Hmm. So there goes one theory,” she mumbled. “I, ah, was actually trying to figure out who left these clothes for me. They sure as hell aren’t mine since there’s no way I could ever afford stuff this nice. I thought for a minute that maybe you might have - ”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not me. What about your father? Could he have arranged to leave them for you, maybe as a guilty conscience present?”
“Hah!” scoffed Scarlett. “He was actually one of the last people I would have thought of. From the little time I’ve spent with him, I don’t think the man feels even a tiny bit guilty about the way he neglected me. Probably because he doesn’t think of me at all, much less feels anything for me except being annoyed that he was forced to meet me face to face for a lousy hour. Besides, I’m guessing he’s been preoccupied with Hannah. How, uh, is she, by the way?”
“Holding steady. She’ll have the second infusion of bone marrow this morning, and we’ll see after that if her counts are continuing to rise. If so, we can start to slowly decrease some of her meds so that she’ll be more alert and can have very short visits with the family. It’s going to be a long, slow road to what we hope is a full recovery and full remission for her. Something that would never have happened if you hadn’t agreed to the donation. You’ve quite possibly saved her life, Scarlett. And that’s a deed that should definitely be rewarded.”
She shrugged, her cheeks flushing in pleasure at his warm words. “I don’t need to be rewarded,” she insisted. “Helping Hannah was just the right thing to do, that’s all. Now, can you just sign those papers so I can head back to my comfy hotel room? They have Netflix and Amazon Prime on the TV, and I’m going to binge watch as many shows as possible before I have to leave for home.”
An odd little look came over the doctor’s face at the mention of her leaving for home, but then he lowered his gaze to his clipboard before taking out a pen.
“All done,” he pronounced. “Sergio will be here in a minute to take you downstairs. And before you argue you’ll be leaving in a wheelchair. Standard operating procedure for most patients who leave here, and especially for someone like you who’s still sore and has difficulty walking. He’ll also bring in a month’s supply of iron supplements that I want you to take, and an eating plan to help put some weight on you.”