“You are not dying on me, Emily Temple…breathe…take in some long, deep breaths…” He looked over when a shaky giggle came from her lips. Beads of sweat were breaking out on her forehead. “Breathing is funny?”
“I’m not having a baby, Jack…oh, god, this is worse than a paper cut,” she said with a shaky laugh. “It really hurts,” she whispered raggedly.
“You owe me for that ring…you are not dying on me, lady,” Jack pulled beneath the overhang outside the emergency room. He was immediately met by a uniformed guard, who turned and hit a button on the wall. Jack moved to the passenger side, opened the door and lifted Emily out onto the snowy gurney. The officer held out his palm and took the keys, moving the SUV while Jack followed beside the gurney.
“What happened?” Ian Sheffield’s hands moved over the face of the woman, checking her eyes and then looking up. “Jack?”
“Knife…idiot tried robbing my shop…Emily was…” Jack rubbed his neck, following the gurney into the large cubicle. “He tried using her as a shield…”
“Did you get him?” Emily asked faintly.
“He ran,” Jack responded, lifting her palm and offering a squeeze.
“Shoot…you shoulda got him…”
“I was a bit busy…”
“You’re going to have to wait outside, sir,” the nurse touched his arm gently, gesturing to the other side of the curtain. “I’ll make certain you’re kept informed.”
“You remember what I told you, Emily,” he ordered gruffly, nodding to himself and turning to stride out of the area. He was in the waiting room, pacing like a caged tiger when a woman came to him with a clipboard. Information, his numb mind intoned.
“Your name?”
“Jack Garrett…and Emily…” he stared toward the bustling noises behind the curtain, his palm up and rubbing the side of his face.
“Sir?” The woman put her palm up in front of his face.
“Sorry…”
“I need information for our records,” she said politely, leading him toward the front desk. “I need your signature for treatment…” she blinked quickly when he took the pen and scrawled his signature on the paper. “Thank you.”
“I don’t have her ID with me…it’s all in her old name, anyway,” Jack rattled off the address of the shop, his head shaking. “Look…I can’t think right now…I’ll pay the bill, okay? In advance if that’s what you want…” He patted impatiently over pockets, took out his wallet and tossed a credit card on the counter.
“Jack?”
His head went up in the direction of his name, the petite Asian girl running toward him.
“Hi…” Grace hugged him and held a small black purse out. “I brought Em’s purse…it has her wallet inside,” she said pointedly, her gaze shifting slightly to the woman watching them. “I thought you might need it.”
“Thanks…yeah…I guess we do…” He took it, opening it and pulling out a bright pink wallet. Fingers went through the collection of cards until he found her driver’s license. He handed it to the woman at his side. “Thanks, Grace…”
“I’m going back to the shop…is…is she…?”
“She’s in there,” he hitched his head toward the closed curtain. “I’ll give you a call when I know something. She’ll be okay,” he said firmly. “Chet?”
“Dealing with the cops when I left…they’ll probably be here later,” Grace backed up, nodding. “She’ll be okay. Emily is tough. Hang in there…”
“Yeah…” Jack took back the cards being held out to him, ignoring the people and striding to the waiting room. He tucked the small purse into one of the large pockets on his shorts, two sets of fingers spearing his hair as he paced.
Ian crossed through the curtain, scanning the area and striding to the waiting room. He met the anxious eyes he’d seen too often lately on the faces of his friends.
“She’s okay,” he assured him quickly, his palm resting on Jack’s shoulder. “They’re cleaning it before we get it stitched up. Nothing vital hit…a lot of bleeding, so we’re giving her a pint of blood. She talks in her sleep,” he mentioned casually.
“Yeah…she never stops talking,” Jack said dully. “Or singing…”
“You know if she’s allergic to anything?”
“I don’t know…” He wasn’t sure why he had claimed her. All he knew was he wanted their attention on putting her back together, not worrying about getting permission from the nearest relative.
“I’ll let you know when we get her finished,” his hand came up on Jack’s arm. “She’s going to be okay. A long damn scar…this is a new look for you.”
“Yeah…my vacation look…”
“I’m used to you in camo, Kevlar or three piece suits…” Ian shook his head. “I called Anya to let her know…”
“Anya knows Emily?” Jack pulled himself from the reverie, staring at Ian.
“Anya and Chloe own the shop. Grace and Emily are the ones who do the construction of the costumes and some of the designs and manage the store. You might want to give Chloe a call, Jack. Registering her as Emily Garrett was smart, but someone could still recognize her.”
Jack just nodded and walked off to stare out the window, hands in his pockets. Evidently there was a lot more to Emily Temple than met the eye, he thought. But then aren't we all more than we portray.
“Ian!” Anya Miller came running from the outside, stopping him just before he went into the cubicle, taking his hand and walking with him.
He listened to her murmuring. Maybe by the time he died, he’d know enough Croatian to understand her when she reverts.
“She’ll be okay…hell of a scar…but she’ll be good as new in a couple weeks,” Ian promised, donning his gloves and beginning the slow process of stitches.
“I will help,” Anya declared and pulled on a pair of gloves, nodding to the nurse and taking the needle.
“Did you know she was married? To Jack?” Ian looked up just enough to see two dark eyebrows considerably arched.
“I did not,” Anya answered softly.
An hour later, Jack saw them come from behind the curtain. Ian went off toward the front while Anya came to him.
“Hi, Anya.”
“Jack…she is alright,” Anya said immediately. “Follow me…they will bring her to the room in a few minutes. She will probably have to stay a few days. It is a very long, deep cut.” She watched him closely, the hard edge of his features telling her nothing. “You have not known her long.”
“A few weeks,” Jack answered vaguely.
“They will bring her food…and there is ice water…get her to drink when she wakes,” Anya told him, shaking her head at his silence and leaving him alone to his thoughts.
He stood to the side when they wheeled the bed into the room. She was propped on her side, a long clear liquid flowing into her through the back of her hand. Her top had been spared the stain of blood, but the dark tint had spread over a large portion of her harem pants. A light blanket covered her legs. The long ponytail spread out against the stark white like honey, curling and thick.
Jack hitched one of the cushioned chairs next to the bed and leaned it back on two legs, his arms up and crossed over his chest. One sandaled foot rested on the bottom rung of the bed.
Emily fought the fog. She hated the feeling. But on the upside, the pain was gone…at least for a little while. She blinked slowly, letting the view of a large window and Jack napping in a chair at the side of the bed register in her mind.
The jewelry store. A big knife…and now a hospital room. She lifted her hand slowly, following the tube with her eyes, her pert nose wrinkling at the needle in the back of her hand.
Jack watched her movements, her quiet assessment of her surroundings. She brought her tongue out, trying to moisten lips that looked a little dry. Then she realized he was watching her…and she smiled.
“Hi…this isn’t what I pictured for our first date,” Emily said with a long sigh.
“Hmmm�
�were you waiting for me to ask or…”
“Oh no…I figured if you hadn’t asked by now, I would have to make the first move,” she said confidently. “Since you came out to say hello every morning for the last two weeks, I decided it was safe to assume you liked girls.”
“Want some water?” Jack laughed when the answer was immediately in her eyes. “No…don’t move…I’ll get it…they left water and straws…”
“This was not in my daily plans,” Emily said, closing her eyes with a slight wince when she tried shifting.
“Lay still,” came the gruff command from behind her.
“You’re growling.”
“I noticed.”
“I’m okay, Jack…honest…” she accepted the straw he placed at her lips, draining the glass with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you. I don’t like hospitals.”
“Emily, you are not okay. Do you have any idea how many stitches you have?”
“Umm…no…but I’m guessing by the look on your face it’s a lot,” she answered, a casual shrug. “No matter…I never really cared for bikinis anyway. Besides, scars give you character. People see it and think…wow…what happened…and you tell them you were in a knife fight…even if there was only one knife,” she paused, not noticing the look on his face, her lips pulled into a taut pout. “I think I should have grabbed his arm before I stomped his foot….”
“I’ll show you just how to break a hold like that without having stitches when you’re better,” Jack promised firmly, watching her eyes widen and head shake.
“No…I don’t ever…ever want to…” Emily closed her eyes, inhaling slowly.
“A little scary, huh?” He took her hand in between his.
“Yes…yes…”
“You’re safe now,” he promised, puzzling and shoving at the side of him that was falling head first into the pool around them with Emily in the center, calling to him.
“You should have hit him harder,” she murmured petulantly.
“Violent little thing,” he said with a chuckle.
“Yep…that’s me…”
“Excuse me? I’m looking for Jack and Emily Garrett?”
Two sets of eyes turned to the door and the dark blue uniform framed in the opening. Jack straightened up and rose to his feet, his palm out.
“Jack Garrett.”
“Officer Paul Decker with the Des Moines PD,” he lifted the clip board from his side. “I spoke with your associate but aside from reporting the attempted crime and turning over the weapon, he couldn’t help us with much.”
Jack explained what happened, ending with a glance at the quiet Emily.
“You stomped on his foot?” Officer Decker repeated with a look at the slender, quiet woman.
“He was pawing me,” she said disgustingly. “And he smelled…like…like fuel…gasoline…he seriously needed a bath,” she concluded firmly.
“Anyway…she doesn’t wear shoes…and brought her heel down hard on the top of his foot,” Jack continued with a sigh. “It sent him stumbling back, but the knife sliced Emily when he fell back. I came around the counter and hit him. He hit the door frame and the knife went across the room…he ran and I didn’t chase…I got Emily here.”
“Can you give me a description?” The officer looked at Emily first.
“I didn’t see him, sorry…” She gripped the railing, trying to shift on the bed to a more comfortable position. The anesthesia was wearing off and it was definitely painful and even as she tried keeping the groan inside, it slipped free, the sound of a cub in distress.
“Will you please lay still…” Jack moved to her side. “What…where do you want to go, Emily?” He growled with exasperation.
“I think my butt fell asleep,” she growled back, small white teeth bared and tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I just need…to move…”
“I’ll check it for you later,” he promised through his own growl. “Hold still…” He slid his palm under her hip, moving her slightly to the front. “Better?”
“Yes…thank you…” She cleared her throat, unaware of the way she was supping air.
“Sorry…” Jack ran his palm over his neck. “I can do better than give you a description, officer,” he took the clip board and flipped one of the pages over, a pencil pulled from his pocket. He held the board in his right hand and sketched, closing his eyes now and then and adding details until he looked at it critically and nodded. “That’s him.”
“I wish all my victims were artists,” the officer said gratefully. “I’ll get this out to all the patrols in the area. Thank you both…hope you’re better soon, Mrs. Garrett. Goodbye.”
“I am sure there’s a really good reason why he thinks…” Emily looked after the departing officer to Jack with one raised eyebrow. “This is annoying…the thing is in my side…why can’t I lay on my back?”
“Emily…” His mind had been busy trying to catalogue the anger and frustrations inside him; the odd feelings he wasn’t accustomed to that had sprung into his life over the last few weeks watching the woman next door. Something inside him had known. Something had told him the instant he made contact his whole world would be altered and never be the same.
“You may lie on your back,” Anya entered the room, a small tray in her hands.
“Anya! Am I glad to see you…” Emily winced and held up her hand.
“Patience, Emily…” Anya stood at her side, carefully removing the IV and holding her hand in the air for a minute with pressure before she lowered it and cleaned the entry. A small bundle of gauze and band aid now on the back of her hand. “Alright…slowly, Emily…”
Anya moved the pillows that had been bracing her in place, very aware of the closed eyes and rough breathing. While her focus was on Emily, she could almost feel the anxiety attacking Jack as if it were something standing in the room with them, palpable and genuine.
“Emily?” Jack’s gaze went from one to the other.
“I’m good…it’s okay…” Came the rasping response. She could see lights flying inside her head each time she moved and was positive every nerve ending was screaming.
“Lair,” he said softly, refilling the glass with ice and water. “Take a drink…it’ll help,” held the straw to her lips, relieved when she followed orders.
Anya lifted the small buzzer and placed it in Emily’s hand, wrapping her fingers around it. She spoke clearly and firmly. “You cannot get up alone. When you need to go to the bathroom, call for help. Do you understand me?” She asked sternly.
“Yes, ma’am,” was the grudging reply.
“If you pull out my decorative stitches I will be most unhappy, Emily,” Anya winked at Jack. “They will be bringing you food soon…eat…you need the protein. I will check on you tomorrow.”
“Are you going to listen to her?” Jack asked flatly.
“Of course,” but she made sure she was looking somewhere else when she answered. “I didn’t have to…until she said…geeze…”
Jack looked toward the large open bathroom, moving around the side of the bed closest. Emily saw his intent and shook her head rapidly from side to side.
“No…Jack…I…” embarrassment flooded her face with the stinging heat it brought with it. “Why me…” She groaned softly.
“The easy way, Emily,” he slid one hand beneath her knees, the other behind her back, lifting her carefully from the bed. Four long steps and he lowered her feet to the floor, helping her straighten up very slowly. He watched her pull her lip between her teeth, her finger nails digging into the flesh on his arms. “Don’t take a step until you can, Emily…there are sturdy rails on each side…I’d ask if you need help…”
“I will manage my pants,” she pushed the words between her teeth. “Turn around. There should be doors,” she grumbled, ignoring his chuckle when he leaned his shoulder against the open frame. “This is just so wrong…”
“I’ve heard it all before…I was in the Army for four years.”
“You listen
to girls peeing? A little too much information…”
“That is not…” But he stopped when she giggled through the groan and embarrassment.
Her sigh was long and grateful, her head against the cool tiles before slowly pulling herself to her feet and adjusting her pants. “I hope they’re not ruined…I guess I could try dyeing them…” She tapped his shoulder, never releasing the railing. “This has got to be the weirdest first date ever…”
“Come on…back to the bed,” Jack turned, frowning when she tried waving him off, her body slowly straightening to her full five foot ten. Both feet were planted firmly on the floor, her head back and eyes closed. “Emily…”
“Shhh…I’m good…give me a minute here…”
“Scooping you off the floor once was bad enough, I’m not doing it again, lady,” he told her firmly, lifting the arm on her good side and moving them toward the bed. He lifted her carefully and laid her down.
“So…oh, my…give me a minute here…” Emily kept her eyes closed, willing the light headedness to go away. “Would you have accepted? If I asked you out? I figured lunch would be a safe date…”
“Yes, Emily, I would have accepted,” Jack answered after a short pause.
“Oh, good…” She opened her eyes when the noise in the hall began, watching as a tray of covered plates was set on the sliding tray of her bed. She looked around for the controls, holding up the flat unit and pushing a button, eyes wide when the top of the bed began going up.
“Slow, Emily…”
“I don’t think I do slow well…” She admitted when he carefully helped her sit upright a little more, the tray moved easily in front of her.
“I noticed that trait,” Jack agreed.
“You missed lunch…I can share…or you can go to the cafeteria,” Emily lifted the fork, her stomach telling her it really wasn’t interested as she toyed with the sliced chicken. “Do you think they’ll let me go home?”
“Emily, you’re going to be here a few days. You can barely move,” he sighed at the quiet evasion when she continued to toy with her food.
WindSwept Narrows: #3 Emily Temple Page 2