Coming Home

by Lydia Michaels

  She abandoned the door, scurried across the carpeted floor, and climbed over the front seat. Her fingers shook as she found the main controls and unlocked the door, wrenching it open. Dugan cursed and grabbed her. His fingers bit into her arms and tears rushed to her eyes.

  “You don’t understand! I have to go with them!”

  “I’m sorry,” was all he said as he refused to let her go.

  She struggled, urgent concern choking her. “Please, Dugan. He could get hurt. They could both get hurt.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be back in a few minutes. Why don’t you get back in the car?”

  She nodded in defeat and turned to face the building. The cracked foundation and hollow windows were weathered beyond repair. Drawing in a deep breath, she winced, fully admitting to herself she was crazy, turned, and slammed her knee in Dugan’s groin.

  He buckled like she predicted and released her arm. “I’m sorry,” she called over her shoulder.

  As she raced into the building, the chauffeur wheezed her name. Her feet kept moving. The stench just inside the door was rancid. Her eyes adjusted to the sooty darkness. Floors that hadn’t seen the light of day in years were covered with a slippery layer of dust marked with footprints.

  Trash littered the perimeter, and floorboards whined under her weight. Moving quickly, knowing just where to put her feet from force of long habit, she listened for where Lucian might be.

  A thick banister lined the broken steps. Peeking in the large rooms on the first floor, junkies lazed here and there, mostly stoned out of their minds and uncaring of her presence. She didn’t see Lucian or Parker, which meant they’d likely already searched those rooms for Pearl.

  Taking the stairs, she carefully placed her steps. At the top, she knew to avoid a soft patch of floor. Remnants from a demolition that had started long ago and never completed were piled in the middle of the largest room on the second floor. As welcome as a beam of light would be, whenever the sun pressed through a crack, it only drew her attention to how putrid this place really was.

  Something shattered beneath the weight of her rubber-soled shoe, small and narrow like a crack pipe. Steady footsteps sounded behind her, echoing with heavy breath. She rushed around the pile of nails, wood, and wire, in search of Pearl or Lucian.

  The low baritone of male voices drew her attention. Lucian’s broad shoulders filled the doorway of what was likely once a bedroom.

  “Jesus, don’t let that be her . . .” he whispered.

  “I’ll go check,” Parker said and Lucian stilled him before he entered the room to inspect whatever they were staring at.

  “She’s looking at us.”

  Evelyn stilled. There was something so wrong with that statement. Her blood ran cold and her limbs trembled. Her sense of speech disappeared as she watched Lucian’s expression. Her mother was dead. She had to be dead. Why did he look like that?

  Halting footsteps echoed behind her, then someone grabbed her arm and she screamed. Dugan held her with unbreakable strength.

  Lucian pivoted and his face contorted with outrage. “Get her out of here!”

  Words she couldn’t decipher were said and voices rose. Parker stepped out of sight and that’s when everything stopped moving in slow motion and picked up double time.

  There was a horrible creak and Lucian turned. He shouted and Dugan ran, albeit with a hunching gait, after Lucian. Evelyn chased after Dugan, who blocked her way. She wedged her body into the room just as Parker’s body lost balance. The house moaned like a burg slamming into the earth from a thousand miles away. Lucian threw out his arms and Parker skidded across the floor. The noise became deafening and suddenly the floor collapsed, a cloud of dust and rotted wood particles rising in its place.

  As the gaping hole came into view, every nerve ending tensed and she screamed at the top of her lungs. He was gone.

  “Lucian!”

  Dugan restrained her as she kicked and screamed, fully prepared to fall into hell after him. As the dust settled, her frantic eyes landed on her mother’s face. She wasn’t blinking. With all this dust, she wasn’t moving, and a trail of dried blood trailing from her discolored mouth matted with the dirt falling through the air.

  It was too much. With superhuman strength, she threw Dugan off of her and rushed down the stairs, twisting her ankle on the broken step along the way.

  She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.

  Limping, she gripped the doorjamb. There was an enormous pile of scrap. “Lucian! Answer me!”

  The dust was still settling. The leather sole of his shoe peeked out beneath a board hammered with rusty nails. “Jesus Christ!”

  Like claws, her hands reached into the debris, careless of scrapes and cuts, her flesh tearing as she sifted the larger pieces out of the way. “Baby, say something. Please.” Where was his face?

  Hurling a large piece of wood out of the way, she finally found him. His eyes were closed and his skin was covered with fallen clay and dirt. She carefully climbed over the debris and touched his face, leaning close to hear him breathing. “Lucian, Lucian, baby, open your eyes. Please open your eyes.”

  Her face burned as tears smudged past her lashes. The grit was blinding. “He’s not waking up! Somebody help me!”

  There was movement above her, but she couldn’t take her gaze off of Lucian. It wasn’t right for him to lay there so unconscious and vulnerable. She pressed her lips to his and whispered, begging for him to please open his eyes. He groaned and she jerked back.

  “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just relax. We’ll get you out of here.”

  A crude curse rasped softly over her whimpered cries.

  She started as Dugan was suddenly behind her. He lifted away the boards she couldn’t move and did a quick check of his body. He cursed. “I’m going to have to call an ambulance. I don’t know if anything’s broken and I don’t want to shift him and make it worse.”

  Dugan made the call and she continued to comfort Lucian any way she could. Within minutes the whine of sirens in the distance could be heard. Her body wouldn’t stop shaking.

  She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.

  Her hands gripped her hair and pulled hard.

  He’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay.

  When the EMTs arrived, she slid into the corner, feeling more at home in the shadows of a crack house than in their presence. Silently, she rocked as a brace was clamped around Lucian’s neck and a plank was slid beneath his body. Her mind was going a mile a minute.

  Straps wrapped around him as he was lifted up, and then he was on a gurney. As they wheeled him away, the gaping void was too far to cross, too real, too painful, too terrifying. He was leaving her.

  Pearl’s empty eyes, Lucian’s body being taken away, a mad carousel whirled through her head, mocking her.

  What about Momma? Where do I go?

  “Scout!” She jerked at the sound of Parker’s voice.

  “You need to go with him,” he said and she vibrated with fear. “Do you hear me? He needs you. Get up and go with him before they leave.”

  She couldn’t make any words come. Her legs refused to work. Her thoughts fragmented, snapping into a million pieces, each one too heavy to bear. The carousel went round again, her mother’s lifeless, bloodshot eyes staring through that dust, and Lucian lying still as a corpse.

  “Scout! Go!”

  “I can’t!”

  “Yes. You. Can.”

  Her head shook senselessly. “She’s dead. I can’t lose him too.”

  “You’re not going to lose him, now come on!”

  Her body was yanked off the ground, dragged out of the horrid-smelling building and into the street. Her vision protested as the sun pierced he
r eyes. The ambulance conquered the limo in height. Parker hauled her along, and Lucian’s feet came into view as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance. There were lights and people in uniforms and machines, and it was all very scary.

  “She’s going with him,” Parker demanded.

  “Who is she?” a man in a uniform asked.

  “She’s his fiancée,” Dugan announced, barring any arguments.

  She turned to Dugan. “My mom . . .”

  “I’ll handle everything, Evelyn. You go with Lucian now.”

  She blinked, suddenly wanting to hug him for being there, but all she could manage was a jagged nod.

  She was lifted into the car and tried her best to sink into the stiff bench and hide. The doors closed and hands probed at Lucian’s limbs. She knew they were helping him but she wanted to throw herself over him protectively and scream that they stop touching him.

  A cuff wrapped around his arm and his eyelids were lifted so a man could shine a light in his eyes. His face was powdered with debris and a bruise tinted his temple. There was blood crusted on his lip. She looked away when he didn’t respond to the light glaring in his eyes. The ambulance lurched and rushed over the roads adding to her dizziness.

  “Ma’am, hold on to that strap.” It took her a minute to realize the man in the uniform was speaking to her. Robotically, she did as he instructed.

  There was so much noise between the ambulance moving, the machines, the walkie-talkies, and all the equipment rattling on the walls. Every breath seemed deliberate and forced. Her hand reached out and touched the cool feathered strands of Lucian’s hair. It was the only place she was certain she wouldn’t hurt him.

  Movement caught her eye as the EMT took a pair of scissors and began cutting Lucian’s shirt away. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “We need to check his ribs.”

  “You’re ruining his clothes.”

  “That’s the least of his problems,” the guy mumbled, and she gasped, pressing her knuckles to her mouth and sucking back a sob.

  “Sorry, I just meant after a fall like that he probably has a broken rib or two. His vitals are good, so there’s no need to get too upset.”

  She ignored him. Why wouldn’t he wake up? Open your eyes and look at me! You said you’d never leave me!

  When they reached the hospital, things went from scary to terrifying. She hated these places for a reason. Lucian was hauled through a set of electronic doors, faster than she could keep up with.

  “Miss? Excuse me, Miss! You’re going to have to wait here until the doctor sees him.”

  “But . . . I’m . . . I’m his fiancée.”

  “Sorry. That’s not the same as wife. I’ll let the doctor know you’re waiting.”

  She turned and the world continued to spin. Her mom was dead and she couldn’t go wherever they were taking Lucian. Faces stared at her as she stood there, unsure of where to go. A police officer approached her and she took a step back.

  Like an animal cornered, she shrilled, “I’m waiting for my fiancé!”

  The officer held up his hands. “Okay, but you need to take a seat. You’re blocking the patient entrance.”

  She nodded and jerkily walked to the closest chair and forced herself to sit. The officer looked like he was going to say something else, but then an alarm started to beep and a nurse called out a code. The doors she had been waiting by opened and her heart stopped.

  Lucian stood, face haggard, sweat dotting his brow, shirt cut open, his weight braced on the wall. Nurses rushed toward him and he slowly lifted a shaky arm and pointed directly to Evelyn.

  “She comes with me.” He sounded nothing like himself.

  Evelyn sobbed in relief and ran to him. “You’re awake,” she cried as her arms carefully hugged him and he winced.

  “Sir, this is a hospital—”

  “I’m aware. I paid for several wings. Now go back to your desk and get out of my way.” His voice was stern and left no room for argument.

  As they turned, he draped a goodly amount of weight on her shoulders, nearly collapsing her to the floor. An obviously irritated doctor scowled at him.

  “Get me out of this curtained tent and put me in a real goddamn room before I find some other hospital to support. And someone contact Dr. Sheffield and get her here. Now!”

  A nurse produced a wheelchair, but looked none too happy at assisting Lucian. Evelyn gripped the hand that didn’t seem to be bothering him as they raced down the long hall and entered an elevator. They rode in silence, Lucian appearing to have depleted his strength, but he never let go of her hand.

  They traveled down one long corridor after another until they finally entered a room. It was nothing like she expected. The walls were creamy butter yellow and paneled in dark cherrywood. The bed was made in soft linens and the windows were draped with thick valances. A couch sat along one wall and a large sink adorned the other. Aside from the railing on the bed, it looked more like a hotel room than a hospital room.

  The nurse grumbled a few words about the doctor and helped Lucian get settled. Evelyn once again felt pushed away, so she went the couch and waited for the doctors to tell her he would be okay. She needed someone to confirm that he would be okay. By the time the nurse shut the door, his eyes were closed.

  She backed up to the couch and lowered her weight.

  Pearl’s dead.

  “Hey.” He sounded like he swallowed a handful of gravel. His eyes were mere slits.

  She needed to be strong. “Hey.”

  “I’m so sorry about your mother.”

  Her vision blurred and she nodded. “I always knew I’d find her that way.”

  “I’m still sorry. I wanted to help her. I wanted to save her for you and I couldn’t.”

  For some reason it was easier to talk about Pearl than the fact that he was lying in a hospital bed. “No one could. She was her own worst enemy.”

  Silent moments passed. He drifted off as she wept. Her fingers were filthy and bloody.

  “Why are you all the way over there?”

  Startled by his voice, she sniffled. “What?”

  “Come over here.”

  “You’re hurt,” she protested.

  “I’m fine. Come here.”

  Slowly Evelyn stood and moved beside the bed. He sighed and grabbed her wrist. “Here. Come here. Lay with me.”

  “I can’t. I’ll hurt you—”

  “Will you knock it off?” He tugged her and she climbed onto the bed, curling into his side, careful not to put any weight on him. He hugged her close. “It’ll be okay, Evelyn. I’ll be out of here soon and we’ll work everything out.”

  She nodded and pressed her face into his shoulder. “I was so scared when you didn’t wake up. If anything bad happened to you I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive her. All the things she’s ever done to me, put me through . . . watching you fall through that floor trying to get to her—” Her words cut off with a sob. “It’s her fault you got hurt.”

  “Shh. I’ll be fine.” He rubbed her arm, soothing swirls of fingers leaving goose bumps in their wake, and after several minutes he asked. “Did Parker get out okay?”

  “What? Parker’s fine.”

  “I didn’t know if I got there in time. I saw him going down and I just reacted. I couldn’t watch you lose your mother and friend all in one day.”

  The entire event rolled through her head, unfolding moments she’d been too upset to see before. “You saved him.”

  “I couldn’t let him fall.”

  “Oh, God, Lucian.” She was grateful he didn’t let Parker get hurt, but angry he did so at the cost of his own safety. She needed to tell him. “Parker’s the one who’s stealing that company from you.”

  “I know. I put it together when I got Dugan’s messages saying you made him
drive you there. I heard what you told him. When will you stop trying to protect me and let me do the protecting?”

  She swallowed. “I was so angry with him, but then, today, after . . . after they took you . . . he forced me to get up. Made me keep moving. He told me you needed me. I was so scared, but he wouldn’t let me quit on you.”

  His lips pressed to her temple. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Are you hurt?”

  There was a knock on the door and Dr. Sheffield came in. Her slight figure showing under a white lab coat, hair and makeup perfect, posture impeccable in those tall heels. She held a clipboard and shook her head. “This looks about right. I get a call saying there’s some problematic patient demanding all sorts of special treatment and my presence yesterday. I should have known it was you. What happened?”

  Evelyn tried to sit up, but Lucian tightened his grip.

  “Stay there, Evelyn. The scared ones need their security blankets,” the doctor said as she moved to the foot of the bed. “It’s nice to see you again, by the way.”

  “Very funny, Vivian. I fell through a floor.”

  “Well, that wasn’t smart. Says here you got knocked out for a bit. What hurts?”

  “My arm and my head.”

  She placed her clipboard down and reached in a drawer. Producing scissors, she made quick work of cutting away the remainder of his sleeve. Dr. Sheffield examined the arm and he winced. “Hmm. It hurts because it’s broken. See this? That’s not supposed to be there. You’re going to need a cast, and if you argue with me about it, I’ll plaster your mouth shut. How’s your breathing? Your chart says your ribs may be broken.”

  “It hurts.”

  “I’m going to run some x-rays and an MRI. While you’re gone doing that—and behaving like the quintessential good patient—I’m going to chat with Evelyn.” She left for a moment and returned with a nurse and a wheelchair. “Bonny, this is Lucian Patras. He’s very grateful you offered to take him down to radiology.”

  Evelyn sat up and helped Lucian out of the bed and into the chair. Reluctance to watch him leave again had her gripping his good hand. Just as Bonny was wheeling him out of the room, Dr. Sheffield called, “Oh, and Lucian, you’re going to need a tetanus shot.”