Sleep Tight

BEDBUGS
Chapter 1
                 
Today was Maggie Bales' thirty-sixth wedding anniversary. As the gray light of dawn snuffed out her dreams, she instinctively slid farther under the covers to hide from the sadness that lurked just beyond the next thought. However, as always, it did not work...the sadness pounced on her with crushing force. It held Maggie captive and reminded her this anniversary was the second one she would spend alone.
Two years, five months, and sixteen days or eight hundred and ninety-nine times, she had awakened without Carson beside her. She missed him most in the mornings. When she forgot...as she often did...and reached across to "his" side of the bed, the unwarmed sheets sent a cold reminder through her fingertips and into her heart that he no longer shared her bed.
Carson had stood beside Maggie thirty-six years ago on this day and promised to love, honor, and cherish her. Through the years, he had fulfilled that promise and so much more. He had laughed with her, cried with her, protected her, and applauded her. But today, on this anniversary, it was doubtful he knew her name.
The blankets could not insulate Maggie from the chill of loneliness, and she shivered as she thought of Carson waking up at Carolina Manor. Were his first thoughts of her, or was she now only a vague wisp that occasionally floated by in the shadows of his memory? She feared it was the latter.
Maggie sighed and swung her feet to the cool oak floor. She needed the warmth of coffee. Padding into the kitchen, she noticed the sunlight beginning to cast subtle shadows on the floor. She poked the switch on the already prepared coffee maker and walked over to the large window that looked out into the back yard.
 The huge maple at the edge of their lawn had been the sentinel that heralded each season for her since they moved into this house some thirty-four years ago. Today, she drank in its autumn majesty as the brilliant gold leaves caught the early rays of the sun and the shimmering effect held her gaze.
Finally, the aroma of fresh coffee pried her from the window, and she poured her first cup of the day. She held the steaming mug in her hands, soaking up its warmth in her palms, and turned once again to stare at the maple. It was like an old friend. Carson had loved it, too. She would tell him about it tonight. However, she suspected the tree, like so many other memories, had surely been lost in the deep abyss of Alzheimer's. 
This morning, thoughts of their early life together flooded over Maggie. She had been a graduate student at North Carolina State University when she had unknowingly locked her keys in her car and gone in for a night class. It was an art class, and she had a project due the next week so she stayed at the drawing table long after class was dismissed. Other students had finished one by one and drifted from the room before she put down her charcoals and looked at her portrait of an aging woman with the years etched across a defeated face. She gathered her supplies into her portfolio and found her coat. Weariness accompanied her down the hallway. 
When she returned to her car and fished for her keys to unlock the door, her heart sank as she realized they were still in the ignition. It was late. A small sense of panic swept over her. She looked around the parking lot. There were only two other cars. She ran back to the side door of the building, jerked it open, and started down the long, shadowy hallway. The hollow sound of her loafers on the tile floor emphasized the emptiness of the building as she searched for a lighted office. Finally, she saw a sliver of illumination seeping from under a door at the end of the hall. She jogged toward it and knocked.
 A male voice called out, “Just a minute.” The name plate on the door read Dr. Carson Bales.
 She could tell he was on the phone by the muffled sounds of only his voice. She waited nervously, wondering if he would be irritated by her intrusion. Almost as soon as she heard the receiver give the familiar thud, a man Maggie guessed to be in his middle thirties opened the door. Even in her semi-panic, she noticed his warm eyes.
“May I help you?” he asked pleasantly. 
“Yes!" she gushed. "I mean...I hope so. I can’t believe I did this stupid thing, but I’ve locked my keys in the car. I’m so sorry to interrupt you this way.” She was almost whimpering. She made an attempt to pull herself a little taller.   
“Oh, don't worry about the interruption. Just glad I was still here. It's getting late, and it's cold outside. Not a good night for walking to find help. What kind of car do you have?” he asked. 
“It’s an ancient Plymouth...nothing fancy."
“Well, that may make our job easier. Now if I can only find a coat hanger around here. Step inside, if you'd like,” and he motioned to her. 
He turned and walked to a file cabinet, which somehow struck Maggie as an odd place for a coat hanger. While he rummaged in the drawers, she took note of his slender build. He had wavy, brown hair that looked like it last saw a comb early that morning. A solid brown tie was knotted at the collar of a nondescript plaid shirt, and it all blended with his khaki pants. A conservative sort, she thought. 
“Eureka!” he exclaimed as he pulled a distorted hanger from the last drawer. “I usually keep a hanger around for my own sake. I’ve had to use it a few times, if that makes you feel any better.” Maggie relaxed a little as she recognized his effort to put her at ease.  
“Now, if I can work it in between your window and door frame and grab the lock, we can have you on the road shortly,” he said, with a smile. It was a smile that sent a surge of warmth into her weary bones. He walked quickly down the hallway toward the door, and Maggie had to pick up her tempo to keep pace as the portfolio swayed against her hip. 
She stood shivering while he probed at her car window with the bent hanger until he found an opening and patiently maneuvered a small loop around the lock. Three tugs brought the blessed sound that told both of them the door was open.
"Oh, thanks...thank you!" she cried. As relief swept over her, her exhilaration brought an unfamiliar boldness.
“Could I buy you a cup of coffee for your rescuing efforts?” Immediately, she was chagrined. Why would he have any interest in having coffee with a student, particularly at this time of night? 
She was ready to mumble a retraction when he smiled at her and said, “I don’t believe I know your name, and I’ve never had coffee before with someone I didn’t know.”
 “Maggie…Maggie Gray.” The words rushed out of her mouth.
“Nice to meet you, Maggie Gray, and I’m Carson Bales. Say, I might just take you up on that offer. It’s been a long day. I’ll get my coat and meet you wherever you suggest,” he said... his words accompanied with frosty puffs of air.
Maggie quickly tried to think of a place close by, wondering how much time he wanted to spend on this impulse of hers.
 “I’m buying,” she said, “so why don’t you choose?” 
“How about the Wolf Den at the east end of campus? They’re open late and their coffee only keeps you awake until three a.m.,” he chuckled.
Maggie was glad she had been there before and wouldn’t have to ask him for directions. “Sounds good. I'll see you there.”