Eyes of a Stanger

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “I get the idea. Any markings?” Involuntarily, the officer looked at her right eye and then her left. He’d noticed the difference, but Winter didn’t share her oddness.

  “A tattoo on his right arm. A heart with my mother’s name—Summer.”

  “That should be enough. I’ll be right back.”

  Autumn walked several steps toward the triage center, her bare feet scraping against the weeds and debris. Finally, too tired to go on, she slumped to the ground, legs folded and crossed in front of her. Now that she was alone with nothing to do, the emotions crashed in on her. Sobbing, she let her head hang, chin to her chest. She would have loved to hide her face with her good hand, but she didn’t dare take the support from her right elbow.

  She thought of the unidentified body. That poor, beautiful man. Did he have a family? Did he have a wife or daughter looking for him? And what of the child still trapped in her car seat?

  How could this happen?

  Autumn was freezing, her chest shaking as much with cold as with sobs. Why was she so cold?

  “There you are.”

  Autumn looked up quickly, hoping, but it was only the woman who had led her to the triage area. What kind of shape was she in not to tell Winter’s voice from a female stranger’s?

  “I brought you a blanket and some bandages. It’ll only take a minute.” She knelt beside Autumn, draping the blanket over her undamaged shoulder and arranging it around her back and over her lap. “I’m just going to clean your shoulder with this. Might sting a little.” It did, terribly, but Autumn didn’t cry out. “Good. Now I’m drying it. It’s kind of deep. I think you should get stitches if you want to prevent an ugly scar.”

  A scar was the least of Autumn’s worries. “I have to find my father.”

  “They’re doing everything they can. Look, is there anyone I can call for you?”

  Autumn thought a moment, because surely there was someone. She had friends, of course, and so did Winter, but what she needed now was family. She shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ll get a ride home later. I have my cell.” But she didn’t. It was in her purse somewhere in the river. “I mean, I’ll borrow a phone.”

  “Is there anywhere else that hurts?”

  “No.” If the woman knew about the arm, she might force Autumn to go to the hospital, and she wasn’t leaving here. Not without Winter.

  “I’ll come back to check on you soon.” The woman pulled the blanket over Autumn’s bandaged shoulder.

  Autumn tried not to wince. “Thank you.” She was feeling warmer now.

  She let her eyes wander over the scene, which still seemed like something from a movie. There was little screaming or drama; everyone was serious and purposefully occupied. The ambulances were leaving at a steady rate. Fewer people were being brought into triage now. How had it happened? It was so unfair! Just when she had felt something wonderful was going to happen. How could she have been so utterly wrong?

  The brown-haired officer was returning, and by the smile on his face, she could tell he hadn’t found her father. “There’s still hope, then,” she murmured.

  “Would you like me to find someone to drive you home?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not going yet. I have to wait and see.”

  “I’ll get you something to sit on.”

  “No. That’s okay. I like to sit on the ground.”

  The officer hesitated, but a gray-haired man in an immaculate suit was approaching them, angling toward the blanket-covered mounds, his face full of agony. “I have to go,” the officer told Autumn. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  I need Winter. But she didn’t say the words aloud. The young officer had plenty to deal with as he led the newcomer to his deceased wife. “She didn’t answer her cell phone,” he sobbed. “When I heard about the bridge, I knew she had to be here. It was on her way home.”

  Autumn was glad when they moved out of earshot.

  She waited. Someone brought her a drink and a sandwich. A woman she hadn’t seen before wrote down more detailed information and then tried to get her to leave in one of the ambulances. Autumn refused.

  Hours passed. As darkness fell, the authorities announced the unlikelihood of more survivors. Divers were still bringing up the occasional casualty, but at least eleven people were still unaccounted for.

  Autumn skirted the triage area and walked down to the river’s edge, determined to trace the bank as far down as she could. Maybe Winter had been swept downriver and managed to climb out on the bank. A few officers looked at her but seeing the blanket and her expression, none challenged her presence.

  “Miss!”

  She turned and saw the man who had pulled her from the river. His face was worn and tired. He was probably about her father’s age, judging from the heavy sprinkling of white in his black hair. She hadn’t noticed that before.

  “Why haven’t you been taken to the hospital?” he asked.

  “I’m not hurt. I don’t need to go.”

  “Then they’ll release you there.”

  “I can’t go yet.”

  “You can’t stay here.”

  She looked away. “Leave me alone. I gave them my information.”

  “Come on. I’ll drive you.”

  “I can’t.” There were tears in her voice now, and she hated the weakness.

  “Why?”

  “They haven’t found my father.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.” His brow creased, and sorrow showed in his brown eyes. “The best thing to do is to go home and wait.”

  Home. Where she lived with Winter, who wasn’t going to be there.

  “No.”

  “Then do you have another place to go? A friend’s?” When she didn’t respond, he said in obvious frustration, “Look, you have to go somewhere. Now tell me where, or I’ll have to report you.”

  For the first time she noticed an insignia on his T-shirt. He was with the fire department. What were they doing here? Apparently every organization had been mobilized.

  The immensity of the disaster hit her. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll go.”

  “I’ll drive you. Let me tell someone I’m leaving.”

  He jogged away, and she was tempted to continue her search along the river. But her arm throbbed and her knees felt weak. She was too exhausted to walk another step . . . or to cry. Sinking to the short weeds on the bank, she sat with her legs folded and tried to meditate. She sent her thoughts, her soul, out into the air. Winter, where are you? He’d taught her that the universe was all connected and that if she listened hard enough, she could find what she needed.

  Nothing.

  She sat motionless, no longer noticing the pain in her arm.

  And then she felt it. Someone was out there. Someone who was connected to her.

  He’s alive!

  He had to be. She hadn’t felt that connection with Summer since her death when Autumn was only eleven. That meant Winter was out there somewhere.

  Unless it was some other relative. Not her birth mother, though, however much she might wish for that. Winter and Summer had told her that the girl who’d given birth to her had died.

  “Miss? Are you okay?”

  She opened her eyes to see the fireman. She nodded, too weak with hope to speak.

  “It’s a little bit of a walk. Come on.” He reached for her, but she ignored his hand, not wanting to release her right arm. “I can carry you if your feet hurt too much.”

  She knew he thought she’d lost her shoes in the river, but she hadn’t worn any—she almost never did—and the rocks and weeds and trash did little damage to the toughened soles of her feet.

  “Do you have a name?” he asked as they climbed the bank. “I’m Orion Harris.”

  “You must have had parents as weird as mine. I’m Autumn Rain.” The way was easier going once they were on the walkway near the river front.

  The man smiled, and doing so instantly changed him. Ten years peeled away. She saw he had a deep
dimple in the side of his cheek. “Your name suits you.”

  “I do look rather rained on,” she tried to make her voice light, but it trembled despite her effort.

  His smile was gone, and his face looked sad and old again. “You need to get home and rest. That water is really cold. You’ve been through a lot.”

  Emergency vehicles were parked all around the fountain on Salmon Street. Orion led her to a sleek black Jeep with a trailer attached. She recognized the boat he’d used earlier, and an impossible lump grew in her throat.

  The baby in the car seat. Where was the mother now?

  He moved aside pop cans and a couple of fast food bags so she could sit down. As he waited for her to enter the vehicle, she met his gaze and saw that he had become aware of her eyes. He didn’t ask about them, though, and she was glad.

  “Sorry I don’t have the top on,” he said, shutting her door. “You’re probably chilly with all that water.”

  “I’m fine.” She was cold, but the night was warm, so it was probably shock.

  He started the engine. “Where to?”

  “A place called Autumn’s Antiques.”

  “A store? You want to go to a store?”

  “My store. It’s really close.”

  After she gave him directions, she found herself dozing in the seat, despite the discomfort of the cool wind against her shivering body. The lull of the movement rocked her.

  “Are you sure this is it?” he asked some time later.

  She jerked awake and saw that he’d stopped outside her tiny antiques store, scrunched in between the Herb Shoppe owned by Winter and a music store that specialized in jazz. “Yes. I have a room in back.” Orion was looking at her doubtfully, so she felt compelled to add, “I have an apartment, too, but I’d rather be close to the river.” In case they find him. She said this last to herself silently.

  “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I’ll call a friend.”

  He watched disapprovingly as she slid from the Jeep. “How are you going to get in?”

  Despair fell swiftly upon her once more, though she’d thought she’d vanquished it for the time being. Her purse and the keys were somewhere under the water. Perhaps with her father’s corpse.

  It was all she could do not to collapse in a sobbing heap on the sidewalk. She should have gone to the hospital. She should have let them take care of her or call a friend. But who? She couldn’t think of anyone she wanted to call at the moment. I don’t even have friends, she thought with a gloom that felt right in the face of her tragedy.

  She was an orphan. Again.

  “I don’t have my keys.” She would have to ask Orion take her home, after all, and wake up the superintendent.

  But then there was a movement inside the store, though it was way past closing time.

  “Autumn!” Jake’s bulk tumbled through the door, his black skin almost fading into the dark night. If it weren’t for his dreadlocks and those ridiculous white pants he was wearing, she might not have recognized him.

  Relief flooded her. “Oh, Jake!” Tears started down her cheeks again.

  His eyes took in her bedraggled state. “You were on the bridge, weren’t you?”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  “Winter?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug, teeth biting down on her bottom lip to stop the sobs.

  “Oh, no.” His arms went around her tightly, causing a searing pain through her arm. “I’m so sorry, Autumn.”

  She gasped. “Let go, Jake. My arm!”

  “Are you hurt?” He released her gently.

  “Just a few bruises, and I twisted my arm. I’m fine, though.”

  Jake hesitated. “About Winter. Where did they take him?”

  She knew he expected her to name a hospital or a funeral home. “I don’t know. They could still find him. Jake, I felt something there by the river. Maybe he’s alive.”

  Jake’s brown eyes had filled with tears. “Come on, let’s get you inside. Looks like you need to clean up a bit.” He looked past her at the black Jeep where Orion still waited. “Thanks for bringing her. I’ll take care of her from here.”

  Orion nodded. “I’ll stop by another day to see how she is.”

  You don’t need to, Autumn wanted to say, but the sadness on his face prevented her. Besides, she owed him her life. “Thanks, Orion. For getting me out of the—” She couldn’t finish. “Well, thanks.”

  He nodded and with a last contemplative look at Jake, he drove away.

  Jake opened his mouth to say something, and Autumn knew him well enough to know it would have been about Orion. Jake was always teasing her about finding a man, and this would top his list of Ideas Never to Use to Find a Date. But even Jake knew this wasn’t a time to joke.

  He swallowed hard. “I’ve been so worried since you and Winter didn’t show up. I’ve been busy all day, for a change. Seems everyone wanted herbs today. I even sold a few of your antiques.” As he spoke, Jake held open the door and put his hand on her back, gently pushing her inside. “Anyway, I heard about the bridge, and after a few hours I called your cell. Then I closed up and went to your apartment. When you weren’t there, I knew something was wrong. I came back here to see if you’d left a message.”

  “It just collapsed,” Autumn whispered. Automatically, her eyes scanned the items in her store. Sure enough, the big vase by the register was gone, and one of the grandfather clocks. On any other day, those sales would have meant a lot to her.

  The double doors she and Winter had installed between the Herb Shoppe and Autumn’s Antiques were open, as they always were, especially when they left Jake on double duty. Sharing one full-time employee was better than two part-timers, and Jake, with his chin-length dreadlocks that curled into Medusa-like snakes and his penchant for exercise and healthy eating, had been perfect for the job. He liked the herbs better than the antiques, though he was better at selling antiques to the ladies than she was. He was muscular, charming, and his teeth were beautiful to behold. Women would buy just to see his smile turned in their direction. Jake was smart at many things, though his dislike of reading and formal learning had caused him to drop out of college. She worried that someday he’d leave, but so far he’d seemed content with the meager salary they could afford to pay him.

  Jake led her to the narrow back room that ran nearly the entire width of the antiques shop. There was a long worktable where she prepared and ticketed items, a basket of papers that shared a corner with her books, an old stove, a mini refrigerator, and an easy chair that she sometimes napped in when business was slow. She was often out early or up late finding antiques, sometimes driving hours for a private viewing, and when she wasn’t working she was at one of the area clubs dancing, so she liked to catch up on sleep whenever possible. A door at the end of the narrow room led to a bathroom, and she headed there now.

  “I’ll make you some tea,” Jake said, reaching for a pot to set on the stove. That was one thing about being next door to an herb store owned by your father. You never ran out of herbal tea.

  In the bathroom she let her borrowed blanket drop to the ground and used the toilet quickly. Her arm was still useless but feeling better than earlier. With her left hand, she splashed water on her face and then stared in the mirror. Her red highlights hid the real color of her close-cropped hair, which was a medium brown, now sticking every which way as though she hadn’t washed or combed it for a week. Her eyes were only just beginning to wrinkle above the prominent cheek bones. The slight dimple in her chin was very noticeable in this light. Her skin was tan, and her body thin and taut. Her small breasts were unfettered by support—Summer had been a firm believer that brassieres had caused her cancer, and Autumn thought she might be right.

  Her features could belong to any girl. All but the eyes. The left was blue and the right hazel, or a lighter greenish brown, as some people described it. Heterochromia, caused by a bit of extra pigmentation. Nothing serious. In her case it hadn’t
been caused by disease or head trauma but rather a genetic fluke, probably inherited, though Autumn would never know for sure. The difference, like her name, had garnered comments during her early years for those attentive enough to notice. However, the average person on the street never remarked, and a lady in her apartment building had known her for five years before she finally noticed.

  So much we don’t see in the people around us. Winter had said that to her often. He was right. What had she missed in the people she was with each day?

  Tears filled her mismatched eyes. “Winter,” she whispered.

  Her makeup was all over her face, and the water had done nothing to help. Maybe that’s what Orion had noticed earlier, not the mismatched color of her eyes.

  “Are you okay in there?” Jake tapped on the door.

  “Yeah. I’m coming.” Autumn rubbed a bit of lotion onto her face and wiped it with tissue before splashing more warm water on her face. She was shaking now, feeling cold, though her shirt and jeans were long dry. Somewhere in the back room she had a sweatshirt that should do the trick.

  Jake had it ready, along with the tea. “Here. Let me help you put this on.”

  “Careful of my arm.”

  “You should get that looked at.”

  “It’s just a little twist. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  “Well, you just sit in this chair and don’t worry about anything.”

  Gratefully, Autumn did as he requested. Soon she was drifting off to sleep, her unfinished tea on top of the mini refrigerator next to her chair.

  Chapter 3

  On Monday morning, two and a half days after the collapse of the Hawthorne Bridge, Bret was on a plane to Portland, Oregon. Clyde Hanks, Bridge Section manager at Multnomah County, had extended a plea for him to examine the Hawthorne Bridge—or what remained of it. Bret knew he was a logical choice, since he’d been prominently involved in the Minneapolis inquiry. That he’d already met Hanks was a plus.

  Bret had jumped at the chance, his fascination with overwater bridges too strong to deny. In fact, if it hadn’t been for his family in Nevada, he might have changed jobs years ago to somehow include them in his work. He was only glad that his boss had agreed to let him go, particularly as it was a busy time for the firm. Of course, any publicity for the company was a good thing and meant more business down the road.