One Spoonful of Trouble (Felicity Bell Book 1) by Nic Saint Page B

he was holding, his unopened umbrella, looked a lot like a weapon.
    “Miss Bell! Do something!” implored Rafi. “Stop him!”
    “Here,” Rachelle grunted, “take this,” and hurled the frying pan she’d been intending to buy in Felicity’s direction.
    There are moments in a person’s life when a split second is all the time one has to react. This was one of those moments. The fact that Felicity had always been last to be picked in gym class was because she could always be relied upon to fumble the ball. She watched the skillet zoom through the air, made a grab for it, and bobbled the pan.
    Abruptly changing course in midair, the heavy object landed on Rick’s head with a dull thud and both it and Rick went down hard. And while the pan bounced once or twice, seeming to enjoy the process, Rick remained where he lay, out for the count.
    “Way to go, Fe!” cried Ben.
    “She good. She very good,” agreed Rafi proudly.
    But instead of rejoicing, Felicity clasped her hands to her face in shock. Without hesitation she crouched on the floor next to the stricken man and placed a soothing hand on his brow. “Rick,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry!” And to show that these were not idle words, she cradled his head in her lap and rocked him gently.
    It would have warmed Rick’s heart had he been conscious during this touching scene, and he would have instantly revised his statement that Felicity Bell was the kind of modern girl possessing a heart of stone and a soul of ice.
    As it was, he simply lay there, dead to the world.

CHAPTER 14

    “Come, come. No harm, no foul, right?”
    Doctor Denby Jennsen, coincidentally one of Felicity’s former classmates at Happy Bays High, didn’t seem to think much of the incident. Seated beside her in the corridor of Happy Bays Hospital, he was explaining that all would be well. Rick had only suffered a mild concussion and would be out of there in no time.
    “I’m so sorry Denby,” she repeated. “It was an accident. Really.”
    “That’s all right, Fe. I’m sure he won’t hold it against you.”
    She doubted that very much. It was the third time now that she’d attacked the man. First with cans of baby peas, then eggs, and now a skillet. He must think she was some sort of murdering maniac.
    Denby seemed to find the whole thing quite amusing, for he smiled broadly. “You never could handle a pass, could you Fe?” he grinned. She’d explained to him what had happened, and Denby, looking as bronzed and athletic as ever, had shaken his head and laughed heartily.
    She wondered if he would have laughed so hard if that skillet had killed the patient instead of merely wounding him. She didn’t think so.
    Denby rose to his feet. “Rick Dawson will be just fine. The man’s got a thick skull.” He gestured to the door. “Look for yourself, if you want to. I’m sure he won’t mind. But Fe,” he added, giving her a warning glance, “don’t hit him over the head with the bedpan now, you hear?”
    And with those words, he chuckled and sauntered off, leaving Felicity to wonder if Rick wouldn’t press charges against her for assault and battery.
    He very well might.

    Rick watched Felicity step into his room and blinked. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling a little confused. One minute he’d been stepping into Rafi’s Deli, wanting to snap up a pack of Newports, and the next he was lying on a stretcher being carted into an ambulance, two EMTs discussing the upcoming Mets game.
    After the day he’d had it was enough to disconcert him even more. The doctor who’d examined him and given him a clean bill of health, explained he’d had an episode at the store but that fortunately for him Felicity Bell had been there when he collapsed and had immediately administered first aid and called 911.
    For the life of him he couldn’t remember how the episode had occurred. All he remembered was that the excitable store owner had started screaming something and then the