|The doorbell rang.
“Lorie, sweetheart! Is something wrong?”
“No, Mr. Rollins... well... yes,” Lorie said. “I'm sorry, but I have a flat tire.”
“Come in,” he said. He had already changed into his pajama flannel shirt.
“I just need to call my father,” Lorie said.
“Of course, darling,” Mr. Rollins said. “But let me take a quick look at it first.”
“Oh, Mr. Rollins,” Lorie said and could add no more as she felt herself being led into the kitchen with Mr. Rollins' arm around her shoulder.
Mrs. Rollins sat at the kitchen table in her wheel-chair with her quiet smile and sparkly eyes.
“I am so sorry,” Lorie said. “I have a flat tire!”
“Now, Lorie!” Mrs. Rollins said, “You took such good care of me, you have no need to apologize!”
Lorie could only look at her feet as her stomach tightened. Twenty minutes ago she had just quit being their house keeper, and care giver, and driver. My God, she thought, could this be harder? Not only had Mr. Rollins fully understood, he had assured her he would supply a stunning recommendation for any future employer. He had made a teary eyed promise that he would put his wife into only the nicest of nursing homes.
“Can I get you some tea?” Lorie asked as the silence grew.
“Lorie, don't worry about us, dear.”
Mr. Rollins came back in after what seemed like forever. His flashlight was still lit. “Just had to add some air,” he said with his kind smile.
Lorie put Mrs. Rollins to bed that night, and cleaned the kitchen, and assured Mr. Rollins she would return in the morning.
When she left, Mr. Rollins collected ten dollars from his wife.
A bet's a bet.
Prompt Flannel shirt, flashlight, flat tire
© Copyright 2009 Winchester Jones (UN: ty.gregory at Writing.Com).
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