The Stars that Fell

by M. L. Bullock

  “It’s Carrie Jo.”

  “What is it? Is she okay?” I could hear the desperation in his voice, which made me feel even guiltier. What kind of friend was I? So far, he’d proven to be a better friend to me than I had been to him. I would never forget what he did for me—how he stayed by my side after Fred Price assaulted me. He was there every step of the way, and I could never repay him. I had five brothers, but Ashland had proven to be a better brother than any of them. It was too bad we didn’t have romantic feelings for one another. According to my mother, we should have skipped the love part.

  “Love can come after marriage, Detra Ann,” she’d said. “Compatibility is much more important to a happy marriage.”

  I had replied, “Not for me. One day, I’ll fall madly in love and that will be it.” I knew the truth—she wasn’t actually concerned about my happiness. The only thing she truly cared about was where our family ranked on the city’s “Most Wealthy” list. My marriage to Ashland Stuart would have permanently secured for her the top spot, right over the head of Holliday Betbeze. Sorry, Mom. I’m not going to use my friend to help you get a better parking spot and boost your ego—or your bank account.

  “Yes, she is fine—at least I think she is. She came to the house last night, Ash, to Seven Sisters.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I think she wanted to talk about TD, but then I made a mistake. Don’t be mad, but I let her stay there last night.”

  “Are you crazy? That’s the last thing she needs!”

  “For the record, you never told me to lock her out! Besides, I was with her. As much as I love you, I’m not your wife’s keeper!” The old man across the porch gave me an irritated glare and then turned the page of his newspaper, pretending that he wasn’t listening.

  He sighed heavily into the phone. “What makes you think she’s not okay? What happened? She had a dream?”

  In a whisper I told him, “Yes, but the real strangeness didn’t happen until after she woke up. I think she brought something back with her. We got chased out of the house this morning—whatever it was nearly tore the place up. We got out okay, but it was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced. This ghost—this entity, it was after us, Ashland. After her, I think. I thought she was handling it all well. I mean, I’m the one that should be freaking out—I had no idea this would happen. But then it just went wrong. I took her to breakfast, and that’s when she went all strange.”

  “Strange how?”

  I gestured wildly with my hands, as if he could see me. “All daydreamy and confused. And another thing…does she know French?”

  “No, I don’t think so. We were just in Haiti, and she never spoke it there.”

  “She’s speaking French.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t be sure, but I think she’s kind of losing it, you know, mentally. Did you know that her mother is mentally ill? She told the entire Historical Society, Ash.”

  “I know all about Carrie Jo, and she’s no crazier than you or I. Where is she now, Detra Ann?”

  “I took her to breakfast at Gloria’s place, but she went home before our food arrived. She should be there now. You should call her.”

  “I’ve been trying! Now I know why she hasn’t been answering. I need you to go there and stay with her until I get home. Please don’t leave her alone. If you can’t go, then I can call Bette. I’m on the way, and I can be there in an hour and a half—two at the most.”

  I poked at my eggs with my fork and leaned back in the wicker chair. “Fine. I’ll go, but I’d like to go home and change first. And when you get home, we’ve got to talk about that house. How am I supposed to go back there now?”

  “Don’t wait, please. I need you to go now.”

  “What am I supposed to say to her? ‘Please let me in—your husband sent me over to spy on you?’”

  “No, but you can tell her that I heard she wasn’t feeling good and that I asked you to come over. It’s the truth—she hasn’t been taking my calls, and I am worried about her. We’ve not been…well, we have had some problems lately.”

  My heart sank a little. Carrie Jo had hinted at this. I wanted Ashland to be happy—I knew he cared for Carrie Jo a great deal—probably more than anyone else I’d seen him with. For goodness’ sake, he married her.

  “Okay, I’ll do it. Be safe. I’ll see you there.”

  I hung up and finished off my breakfast. I sent Rachel a super long text about the “squirrel” and explained that I would be coming in late. She sent back an “Okay” and that was that. I was sure she’d light up my phone after she saw what had taken place inside. Then what would I say?

  Yeah, sorry about the mess the stark-raving ghost left us. Try not to upset him, and don’t mention the name Christine.

  Gloria picked up my plates, and I gathered my belongings. I paid the bill and drove to Carrie Jo’s house. Unfortunately, I was behind a street cleaning truck that refused to get out of the way. I knew he saw me waving at him, but he still didn’t budge.

  “This is just great,” I complained to the truck. My phone rang and started singing “Thank God I’m a Country Boy.” I knew it was TD. I couldn’t dig the phone out of my purse fast enough. We hadn’t spoken in weeks, and our last conversation wasn’t anything nice. I’d given him an ultimatum and he gave me his answer—I came home to find all his things gone. I’d cried all night but hadn’t called him. He had not called me either.

  “Hey!” I said as casually as I could while juggling the phone and the steering wheel. Keep your game face on, girl, and don’t get wimpy!

  “Hey, beautiful.” I loved his warm voice, and I especially loved it when he called me that. He had a delicious Southern accent that made him sound uber-sexy. His accent was distinct and fine in a way that set him apart from the other guys around here. He could talk excitedly about projects and buildings, but when it came to him and me—he was slow and on purpose. I’d loved that.

  “Good to hear from you, TD. How have you been?” Be cool, be aloof!

  “Things are good and getting better—especially now that I am talking to you. I have so much to say to you, beautiful. I was hoping we might have coffee this morning—if you’d be willing to see me. I know I have been wrong about so much—I would like to apologize and talk about our future—if you think we might have one.”

  Uh-oh, something doesn’t feel right. Probably just some apprehension left over from last night. So why is my “lie detector” going off like crazy?

  “I would like that, but I have to visit a sick friend this morning. I am going to go check on her now. I’ll be available in a few hours. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, we could meet later this morning, if you have some time for me.”

  “Are you sure you are okay, TD?”

  He chuckled. It sounded insincere, kind of forced. “Never better! Just can’t wait to see your gorgeous face.” He was lying to me—but about what?

  “Alright… so where should we meet?”

  “Why don’t you come to my place? I would like to talk somewhere private, talk things over, see what I can do to make it up to you. I know I’ve been a jerk.”

  Nope. This is a bad idea.

  “I think I would like to take things a bit slower. Can we meet at Starbucks, the one on Airport?”

  “Alright. I’ll be there. See you at ten?”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then.”

  “Detra Ann?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

  “See you later, TD.” I hung up the phone, caught a break in the traffic and whizzed around the truck. If I weren’t such a lady, I would have given that guy a piece of my mind—or at least an ugly gesture. When I got to Carrie Jo’s house, her shiny new car was in the driveway. I pulled the BMW up behind it and wondered what I would say to her.

  Why am I here? If something creepy is going on, I’m out of here. I can’t take another creepy thing! I don’t even believe in ghosts!

&
nbsp; I dropped my keys in my purse and slung it over my shoulder. I hoped this wouldn’t take too long. All I had to do was check on her and ask her to call Ashland.

  “Oh no,” I said to myself when I walked up the sidewalk. The front door stood wide open, and dead magnolia leaves from the front yard had blown into the house. This didn’t look right—not one little bit. I stood on the pavement wondering what to do next. Visions of my own attack five years ago flashed in my head. I practically ran to the open door. “Carrie Jo?” There wasn’t a sound in return except the sound of rustling leaves. I hadn’t noticed the breeze until now—it picked up a swirl of dry leaves and tossed them around the foyer. She wasn’t answering, and I couldn’t leave here until I knew she was okay. I just couldn’t.

  I stepped into the foyer, a layer of leaves crunching under my feet. I continued to call her name, when I heard a sound from upstairs and froze in my tracks. Oh my God! What if someone else was here—an attacker like Fred Price? I dug in my purse for my tiny pearl-handled gun. I wasn’t taking any chances. This could be a dangerous area at times—I mean, I loved Mobile, but we had our share of violent criminals. I walked through the entire lower hallway and checked all the rooms as if I were a rookie police officer.

  “Carrie Jo?” I said again, this time in a whisper. I heard another sound—definitely coming from upstairs. She could be hurt up there; I had no choice but to climb those stairs. I left my bag on the lower steps and began to work my way up. Thank God I’m not wearing my usual high heels today. Between the leaves and the wooden steps whoever was up there, if anyone at all, would know I was coming long before I got there.

  I called her name again. This time I plainly heard a door close. The sound wasn’t too far away either. I gritted my teeth and kept moving up. I was just three steps from the top now. Not too late to change your mind. Go outside and call the police. I stopped and lowered my gun. Maybe that was what I should do. What was I thinking? How was I qualified to do this? Just because I had once been a victim didn’t mean I was now an expert. Before I could sneak back down, the door closest to me opened and out walked Carrie Jo in a terry robe with a towel wrapped around her head. She jumped back in surprise, and suddenly I felt a cruel punch in my gut. My gun flew out of my hand. I could hear the sound of the shot.

  I screamed as the sensation of falling overwhelmed me. My arms reached out for something, anything, to help me stop my fall, but I couldn’t grasp a hold of the rail. I heard a loud pop, then a thud, and everything went dark.

  Chapter Ten

  “Detra Ann!” I screamed in horror as I scrambled down the stairs after the fallen blonde. Blood poured out of her side, and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. I hadn’t touched her but she’d fallen somehow. “Detra Ann!” I screamed and ran to her side. I squatted next to her in the blood and felt for a pulse. She was alive—at least for now.

  Doreen walked inside and stifled a yell behind her hands. “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

  “Doreen! Call 911, now! Please!”

  She dropped her grocery bags on the floor and ran for the phone. “Yes, we have an emergency.” She handed me the phone and ran to get towels for Detra Ann, who was still unconscious.

  “Yes! I need help. My friend fell down the stairs. She was carrying a gun, and I think she’s been shot. Please come! She’s bleeding pretty bad. Please help us.”

  “Okay, ma’am. They are on the way. It won’t be but a minute. Is she breathing? Can you see?”

  “Yes, but it’s shallow.”

  “Okay, now you say she’s been shot?”

  “Yes, oh my God! Please hurry!”

  “Where has she been shot?”

  “In the side, around her waist. I think she lost control of the gun as she fell. I don’t know! Oh my God! She’s my friend, but she’s not supposed to be here. I came out of the bathroom and she was here.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s see if we can stop the bleeding. Do you have some towels?” asked the friendly dispatcher.

  “Yes, I do now.”

  “Fold a towel and press it to the area where’s she been shot. That should slow down any blood loss.”

  “Make them hurry! She’s bleeding through the towel. Please, Detra Ann. Don’t you dare die!”

  I could hear the ambulance tearing down Government Street. Doreen scrambled to her feet and opened the door and then ran to the laundry room.

  “Detra Ann, stay with me! Can you hear me?”

  Her dark eyelashes fluttered, but she never opened her eyes completely. I saw her body sag just as the EMTs came barging in the front door.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I think she tripped and fell—her gun went off. I didn’t even know she had a gun! She’s been shot.” I got out of the way as the two young men squatted down beside her.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Detra Ann. Please, is she going to be alright?”

  “We’ll do our best to help her.”

  I watched as they assessed her quickly and prepared her for transport. They braced her neck and expertly moved her body to the gurney.

  “Here, ma’am. I got you some clothes.” Doreen handed me a tote bag with a shirt, jeans, underwear and sandals.

  “Thank you. Please call Mr. Stuart for me. Tell him to come to the hospital.”

  “I will!”

  I followed the men to the ambulance and didn’t wait for an invitation to join them. I climbed inside and sat out of the way on the only available metal bench. While working furiously to stop the bleeding they asked me questions about allergies and blood type. I didn’t know what to tell them—I didn’t know any of these things. The sight of Detra Ann near death, her normally tanned face pale and lifeless, sent shockwaves through my psyche. What had she been doing in my house? How did she get in, and why did she have a gun? I couldn’t answer any of those questions but whatever the answer, I prayed that she would live. The rest of the ride was a blur. When we arrived at the hospital, I ran after the gurney. The EMTs paused in the ER hallway only long enough to call for a doctor. “She’s bleeding out! Code Six!” They whirred past me through a set of self-locking doors. I wanted to chase them into the operating room, but a sympathetic nurse blocked my way.

  “I’ll meet you at the registration area in a couple of minutes. In the meantime, you can change. There are some scrubs in here,” she said kindly, pointing to a nearby closet.

  “Thanks, but I have clothes. Is there a bathroom I can use?”

  “Right through there.” She hurried away, following after Detra Ann and the team that had assembled around her. I couldn’t stop shaking. I stumbled into the bathroom and changed my clothes quickly. Fortunately for me, Doreen had enough foresight to include my cell phone. What a relief!

  With shaking fingers, I called Ashland. Strangely enough, he was already on the line. He’d been trying to call me. I let out a sob. “Baby? Are you there?”

  “Yes, Carrie Jo. Are you okay? Doreen called me. What have they told you about Detra Ann?”

  “I’m fine. I’m at the hospital, Springhill. They haven’t said much yet. They just took her back. Are you on the way?” I was in full-blown crying mode now.

  “I am—I’ll be there in about an hour. Do you have someone with you? Maybe Bette?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” I scurried out of the bathroom and went in search of the nurse at the registration desk. “I have to go. The nurse wants to talk with me. I don’t know what to tell her.”

  “I’ll call Cynthia and tell her to get down there. She can answer their questions. Just take a deep breath, and I’ll be there soon.”

  “Ashland?”

  “Yes?”

  “Hurry, please.”

  “I will. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He hung up, and I stood at the registration desk waiting for the nurse. When she didn’t return I called Terrence Dale. He didn’t answer, so I left him a message. “Hey, this is Carrie Jo. I’m calling because
Detra Ann is at Springhill. She’s had an accident, and I think it might be a good idea for you to be here. I’m in the emergency waiting room. Bye.” Fifteen minutes later, I took a seat in the waiting room, hoping that the nurse would come back eventually.

  The first person to arrive was TD. Detra Ann was right, he did look different. He was thinner now, and his silky brown hair brushed his shoulders. Not an unattractive look, just different. Even his clothing style had evolved. Now the young contractor wore torn blue jeans and a vintage T-shirt with the emblem of an old rock band on the chest. No more khakis and polo shirts, I supposed. “TD!” I said, throwing my arms around his neck. He tentatively hugged me and awkwardly stepped back.

  “What’s happened?”

  “I’m not sure, really. I came out of the shower, and she was there on the stairs with a gun. I don’t know if I startled her or what, but she fell and the gun went off. Now she’s shot! In the side! I’m waiting and waiting, but nobody will tell me anything.”

  “She tried to shoot you?”

  “No! I don’t think so—I don’t know what she was doing, but she is hurt really bad. I witnessed the whole thing, but it all happened so fast. I can’t tell you much about what happened.”

  He hugged me again and helped me find a seat. He said, “Wait here. I’ll go see what I can find out.”

  I watched him chat with the receptionist. She nodded and smiled at him, and he waved at me. “Thank you,” he said to her when she pressed the button to let us back. “She’s in surgery, but they’re allowing us to sit in the surgery waiting room. The doctor will come speak to us when he’s finished.”

  “Oh God! Ashland is on his way in from New Orleans. He said he would call her mother. I haven’t heard anything else.” We shuffled through the bleach-scented halls of Springhill Memorial until we came to the surgery waiting room.

  “Yeah, she knows—she called me too. She was in Foley—she’ll be here in about 45 minutes.” He plopped down beside me. “The woman hates me. I can’t say that I blame her. Detra Ann was way too good for me. Damn—that’s her calling me now. Excuse me.” He stepped just outside the door and took the call.