Natalie

"Gene, Rosie didn't come in yet. I've called her place, but there's no answer. I can't leave here. Can you go look in on her?" she asked.

"I'll do it now. I was ready to go on lunch anyway," I replied.

I drove to Rosie's apartment and knocked several times with no answer. I started to panic. I went down to the super's apartment and told him the situation. He got his master key and opened Rosie's door. We found her on the floor of the bathroom. She had been brushing her teeth. I checked her for vital signs as the super called 911. She was still breathing. It seemed to take forever, but the rescue squad finally got there. They stabilized her and took her to Jefferson. I drove over to the diner and broke the news to Natalie.

"What happened to her?" she asked, crying.

"They're not sure. They think it was a heart attack."

"I want to go see her," she said.

"Not until later. She's not conscious anyway. We'll go over after the diner closes."

She made it through the day and we headed over as soon as we closed the diner.

* * *

When the elevator doors opened, we knew we were on the right floor. We could hear her all the way down the hall.

Rosie was sitting up in bed with a dozen wires and IVs attached to her.

"There you are! Tell these idiots to take these things off and let me out of here!" she roared.

Natalie went over and gave her a hug. I held her wired and IV'ed hand. "Let the doctors find out what's wrong with you," I said.

"They already know, but won't let me out! Nat, would you be a good girl and find me another pillow. My back is killing me," she said.

Natalie left the room looking for an orderly. A middle-aged man in a white coat entered the room. "Mrs. McCloud," he began, "I'm Doctor Ben Jones. You're disturbing the other patients."

"All the more reason to let me out!" she roared.

"What's wrong with her, Doctor?" I asked, patting Rosie's hand.

"Are you her son?" he asked.

"Yes," lied Rosie.

"Well, your Mother suffers from hypoglycemia or low blood sugar. This morning it dropped dramatically and she lost consciousness. We got the sugar level back up and the only lasting effect is the lump on the back of her head. We want to keep her here a few days to run some other tests. According to her, she hasn't seen a doctor since Kennedy was in office. Being close to eighty should be reason enough for her wanting to be checked out," he said.

"Ah, Mom? Maybe you should let the doctors check everything under the hood," I said.

"Don't you have something better to do, like going home to the wife?" she asked the doctor.

"I'm not married Mrs. McCloud, and even if I were, I'd still want you to stay and get a full check up," replied the doctor.

"I can't stay here. I have too many things to get ready for this weekend," she said, referring to the wedding and reception, which she was catering herself.

"How many days are we talking here?" I asked him.

"Well, if everything is fine, then she'd be out by Tuesday," he said, making a note on his chart.

"That's still enough time Ros... uh Mom," I said, still petting her hand.

He began explaining the dangers of hypoglycemia to Rosie, when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck start to go up. Natalie came back into the room with a pillow. I looked at her and then the doctor. I got goose bumps. Rosie saw it. She knew it was coming.

"Natalie, I want you to meet Dr…"

"NOOO!" bellowed Rosie, as she pulled her hand from mine and hit me square in the jaw. "NO, NO, NO!"

"What's going on?" asked Natalie and the Doctor in unison.

I recovered and started again. "Natalie this is…"

Natalie put her hand over my mouth and said, "I don't care who he is. I love YOU Gene."

"Doctor, could you excuse us for a moment, please?" asked Natalie.

"Of course," he said, as he left the room.

She removed her hand from my mouth.

I started again, "Nat, that man is perf…"

Her hand quickly covered my mouth again.

"I don't care. You're perfect for me too," she said, as she replaced her hand with her lips.

That broke the spell. I no longer had the compulsion to introduce them to each other.

Rosie was shaking her hand from the pain. "God, you have a hard head!"

"You've been telling me that for years," I said, as I interrupted our kiss a moment.

"I'm not like the other women in your stories, Gene. I'm not going anywhere."

"Get the doctor back in here. I think I broke something," said Rosie, as she held out her swelling hand.

* * *

"I do," we both said, as Natalie and I became husband and wife.

The wedding was held in my backyard in April on a beautiful spring day. All of Natalie's children and grandchildren were there. A few friends of mine were there and, of course, Rosie.

"Woof!"

All right, all right. Jack was there too.

Rosie had checked out okay except for the hypoglycemia, and the wrist she broke on my chin. Natalie wound up doing most of the cooking for the reception, but she didn't mind. She looked at it as a labor of love.

* * *

We honeymooned in Italy. Natalie nursemaid me through the entire stay there.

Rosie finally retired, and if she takes good care of herself, she might live to be 100.

Jack now gets nightly doggie bags from the diner.

At Natalie's insistence, I've begun helping people again. If I charged a fee, I could retire from the day job.

I don't know if I've been cured of finding Natalie's perfect mate or not, but no one has caught my attention. It wouldn't matter anyway. I've written the final chapter of her story: