by Thianna D
She knew how to be careful. Perhaps tomorrow, she could broach the project with Arthur again. Maybe once he realized how repentant she was, he'd change her mind. She didn't hold much hope of gaining his permission, but unless she was willing to remain a prisoner in her own home, she at least had to try.
Chapter 6
Elly awakened several times throughout the night. Twice to pee and once because she'd mistakenly rolled onto her side and a brilliant, white zap of pain had jolted her awake. Then when Arthur came to bed, she'd awakened to feel his hand on her forehead.
"You're too warm. I'll get you a couple more pills."
She didn't reply, but accepted the medicine along with the water he offered and fell back into a deep dreamless sleep.
In the morning, she woke to the steady patter of running water. She was normally up and fixing breakfast before Arthur rose, so she usually wasn't upstairs when he showered.
Her entire body ached, but she struggled to get out of bed. Maybe if she had his egg and toast ready by the time he came downstairs he'd be in a more congenial mood. Perhaps he'd even agree to let her go to the community center to catch a glimpse of what the women were planning. She so badly wanted to spend time with other people that she was willing to face the risks involved. Catering to him a little certainly couldn't do any harm, and it might aid her cause. Besides, Muffin needed to go out and she knew taking care of her dog wouldn't even occur to Arthur.
Though her dizziness seemed better today, she'd have to take things slowly. After putting a tank top on her upper half, she eased her arms into her velour robe and hissed as the smooth fabric brushed against her backside. She was going to be sore for at least a week.
Knotting the tie about her waist, she returned to the bed and gasped at the smears of dried blood streaking across the sheets on her side. With a shake of her head, she ripped off the soiled linen, dumped the pillows out of their cases, stuffed the top and bottom sheets into the pillowcases and took the laundry downstairs with her.
Muffin whined loudly, so Elly opened the front door to collect Arthur's morning paper and went into the laundry room to let her poodle out, but extended her hand palm out as a signal for Muffin not to jump. Setting the filled pillowcases on top of the dryer, she opened her arms and said, "Up."
Muffin promptly jumped up into her embrace and whined as she laved kisses all over Elly's face. The small poodle had clearly been worried about her.
"Outside?" Elly asked, when she could part her lips long enough to speak without getting a doggie tongue in her mouth. She loved Muffin to pieces, but drew the line at canine French kisses.
When Muffin gave a short bark as a yes, Elly carried her to the back door, opened it, and set the poodle down in the doorway. "Go on. Mommy's not dressed for outside, yet, so you'll have to go by yourself."
Muffin looked up, tail wagging expectantly as if asking Elly to change her mind. "No, I can't. Go on."
Her pleas unanswered, Muffin went outside by herself. Elly shut the door, put the newspaper by Arthur's place and started his breakfast. He came downstairs about fifteen minutes later, just when Muffin gave one scratch and a bark.
Arthur scowled at Elly. "I didn't expect you up, yet."
Elly smiled at him. "I thought I'd make you breakfast and Muffin needed to go out."
Giving a single nod, he stepped over to give Elly a kiss on the cheek. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore, but better."
"Good. I still want you to make an appointment with Dr. Devon."
"Yes, sir."
Acknowledging her reply with a pat on her arm, he sat down and opened the paper. She set his juice and coffee by his plate, then served up his usual soft-boiled egg and buttered toast.
He offered an absent nod, but didn't glance up from his paper, so Elly went to let Muffin in.
The moment the door opened, the tiny dog growled.
"Muffin, up," Elly commanded, and the poodle obediently leapt into her arms, but continued her low growls at Arthur.
"If your animal can't be civil, I want her back in the laundry room, Eleanor," Arthur insisted, still not looking up from the newspaper.
Elly knew she should obey him, but instead began feeding Muffin bits of buttered toast to keep her quiet, since she didn't want Arthur to leave before she'd had a chance to talk with him.
"Arthur, would you please reconsider and allow me to participate in the Halloween event?"
"I believe I already gave you my decision on that. Perhaps you'll be better behaved and able to work on the next project. Not this one."
Though pushing Arthur was never a good idea, a part of her felt he was being unfair. "Didn't you say you wanted us to be more involved in the Corbin's Bend community?"
He glanced up from his paper. "That was before you showed me how irresponsible and disobedient you could be. Right now you're not fit company for anyone else."
"The other women seem to think I am. They want me to work with them."
"You're nagging, Eleanor, and if you continue I will punish you for it. This is the last warning you'll get."
Elly tucked Muffin under her arm and leaned against the sink as she regarded her husband. Provoking him further would not be wise, but as sore as she already was and as concerned as he appeared to be, she didn't think he'd hit her again. He wasn't a cruel man, just determined to ensure his wife obeyed him in all respects. She'd learned her lesson about obedience last night, so she decided to let the subject drop. The concession didn't make her happy, though.
He continued to meet her gaze as if waiting for something, then she realized what he wanted.
"Yes, sir." Her response was sullen, but it was correct.
He shook his head. "Even if yesterday hadn't happened, your first duty is to me, is it not?"
"Yes, sir."
"We've been here a month already and you still have boxes in the garage you've left unpacked."
"Those are our fine china."
"I realize that. So, tell me why you haven't you put our more expensive items away yet."
Her mouth dropped open. "The china cabinet."
His brows drew together in a frown. "Pardon me?"
"You promised we'd go pick out a china cabinet so I could unpack my figurines and our dinnerware, but you've been too busy with work, so we haven't gone, yet. That's why the boxes aren't unpacked."
"Are you complaining because I have to earn our living?"
"No. I'm explaining why we still have items in crates from our move. They aren't in the garage because I'm neglecting my duties. I've done everything you've asked of me, even though I get no recognition from you."
"I don't care for your tone."
She closed her eyes and shut her mouth. Angering him would only get her in trouble again. She tried to be the docile and obedient housewife he wanted, but a part of her simply didn't fit that mold. That's why she was always getting punished. She couldn't measure up to the woman he desired and deserved, no matter how hard she tried.
Angry with herself and him, she muttered, "You're right. I am being disrespectful. I'll go finish gathering the laundry."
"No, you won't. You'll stand there and apologize to me, then you'll fetch a wooden spoon and meet me in the living room for your punishment."
"Go to hell," she grumbled under her breath as she stomped past him toward the stairs, but he stood and grabbed her arm to stop her. Both of them had forgotten Muffin was still cradled in her arms, so neither were prepared when the tiny poodle sunk her sharp little teeth into Arthur's hand.
His reaction immediate, Arthur backhanded the small dog to the floor. At Muffin's surprised yelp, Elly, seeing only red, attacked.
Arthur merely grabbed Elly's wrists and jerked them behind her, but let out a yell when Muffin leapt forward and bit him on the leg.
"Get off me, you mangy rat." Arthur kicked the animal toward the front door and bodily hauled Elly back to the stove where he grabbed a wooden spoon, then dragged her into the living room and shoved her
over the end of the couch. He was lifting her robe when Muffin launched at him again to clamp her needle-like teeth on his ankle. He tried shaking the dog off, but when he couldn't get her to release him, he let go of Elly, grabbed the poodle by her scruff and tossed her to the other side of the room.
At Muffin's pain-filled yelps, Elly surged up and attacked Arthur with her nails. He backhanded her to the floor without hesitation, but she hit the edge of the coffee table on the way down. This time when Muffin charged, Arthur kicked at the animal. Except Muffin dodged, so the toe of his shoe found Elly's stomach instead. Instant pain had her curling away from him and drawing up into the fetal position.
When Muffin rushed in again, Arthur swore and lashed out once more with his foot, catching Elly in the back. With a moan, Elly tried to crawl out of the line of fire, but as she struggled to rise onto her elbows, Arthur's kick caught her in the ribs. Unable to breathe or move she collapsed flat onto the floor.
Teeth bared, Muffin bravely made her fourth charge, except this time Arthur's shoe connected with the small, fierce poodle and launched her like a football into the next room.
Unable to move, Elly could only lie there, robbed of breath, while her dog screamed in pain.
Tossing down the spoon he held, Arthur's voice came out cold and bitter. "You finally made me lose my temper, Eleanor. And for that, I'll never forgive you. You are my wife, and you will learn to respect and obey me if I have to beat it into you on a daily basis. And trust me, my dear; I am fully capable of ripping into your hide every night if you refuse to curb your insolent tongue and prideful manner."
His displeasure expressed, Arthur pulled down his cuffs, picked up the briefcase he'd left by the door and walked out as if a screaming dog and his wife lying moaning on the floor hadn't fazed him in the least.
Once she'd caught her breath, Elly dragged herself over to Muffin who hadn't stopped screaming. She reached out, but couldn't tell where her pet was hurt. "It's okay, baby. He's gone. He's gone. Mommy's here."
Muffin lay on her side, her eyes wide with pain and fear as she continued to yip out in distress. Afraid the poodle might have a broken rib or worse, Elly struggled to her feet. She had to get her dog help right away.
Fighting the blackness that threatened to overwhelm her, Elly fetched a clean towel from the laundry and grabbed a skirt to cover the lower half of her body, then slipped on a turtleneck sweater. She didn't bother with underwear since she doubted she could bear the pain of wearing panties anyway.
Towel in hand, she returned to her whimpering dog. "I'll take care of you, little one. Don't worry. We'll go visit nice Dr. Douglas and he'll fix you right up. Muffin yelped out when Elly tried to lift her, but didn't attempt to bite. Realizing she had no choice, Elly ignored Muffin's cries, picked her dog up and walked out of her house, not even bothering to gather her purse or keys.
When she limped into Jerry's clinic, the receptionist rose with a look of alarm.
"I think my dog's badly hurt," Elly announced, trying to hold back the panic building like a tidal wave inside her.
"I'll get Dr. Douglas immediately, Mrs. Benson. Come with me and we'll put you in Examination Room One."
Barely aware of what she was doing, Elly followed the other woman to an examining area and gently laid Muffin on the stainless-steel table.
"Please, sit down," the woman said, urging Elly back toward one of the chairs, but Elly drew away from her.
"No. I'll stand. Please get Dr. Douglas now."
"Yes. All right." And the woman ran out of the room.
Jerry was finishing his examination of a constipated lop-eared rabbit when his receptionist barged through the door.
"Sally!" Noting her pale expression, he asked, "What's wrong?"
"Mrs. Benson is here. She brought her dog with her. I think you need to see them. Now."
With another client in the room, Jerry had to struggle not to rush out in alarm. "All right. Would you ask Jenny to finish up here with Buttons and Mrs.—"
"Yes. I'll do that. Just hurry. Please. Exam Room One."
That was all it took to get Jerry rushing over to Room One. Slightly bent, arms wrapped about her middle, Elly stood swaying near the stainless steel table. Blood dripped steadily from her temple down the front of her light blue sweater, leaving several blotchy-looking, dark purple stains. After snapping on a pair of examination gloves, Jerry gathered up a handful of gauze pads and placed a finger under Elly's chin to examine her wound better. The cut was deep and would need stitches, but he kept light pressure against the laceration to help stem some of the bleeding.
"What happened?"
"Arthur kicked Muffin. I think he may have broken one of her ribs."
He glanced over at the trembling animal he hadn't noticed before and pushed a button on their phone system so a red light came on instantly.
"We'll take care of Muffin, don't worry," he said, speaking in a calm, reassuring voice. "What happened to you, sweetheart?"
"Nothing. I'm fine. Please see to Muffin. She was screaming in pain earlier and I'm afraid—"
When Sally stuck her head in, Jerry said, "Call Dr. Devon and ask him to come over here right away. Next, have Jenny—"
Elly's eyes rolled back and he grabbed her under the arms as she collapsed. "Get me an armful of warm, clean towels and page Devon now, Sally. Then ask Jenny to take this poodle and x-ray her for internal as well as external injuries."
"Yes, Dr. Douglas," Sally answered, rushing back out as Jerry gently eased Elly down, noticing for the first time that blood was also running down her legs. Great God, she was hemorrhaging. What had the bastard done to her? Unfortunately, his clinic wasn't set up for human patients, so other than the waiting room, he had no place to lay Elly out but the floor. And until he'd assessed her injuries better, he didn't dare risk moving her into his home.
Sally returned with the towels. "There," he said, pointing to the chair near his right side. Grabbing a couple as she put them down, he spread them over Elly in an effort to keep her warm. Then he grabbed a few more and raised Elly's skirt. "She's bleeding heavily. We'll need to get her to the Denver hospital stat. Call for emergency transport."
"Yes, sir. Right away." Sally rushed out again as Elly's eyes fluttered open.
"It's okay, sweetheart. You're bleeding from somewhere internally and I'm going to try to contain it. I realize you're hurting, Elly, but I'll be as gentle as I can," he promised, easing the towels beneath her hips. Wishing he had an ultrasound machine in his clinic, he gently pressed the edge of a towel against her. She let out a hiss of pain and he frowned. "Lift your knees for me, honey. It will help raise your pelvis and provide a better angle. I'm sorry, Elly. I know this isn't easy for you, but I'd like to at least slow the bleeding if I can't stop it."
She gave a nod and raised her knees. The vivid angry, red welts and bruises on her buttocks were in full view as he maintained a light, constant pressure against her swollen labia to try to contain the bleeding. The fucker must have caned her last night. Elly started panting with the pain.
A quick knock at the door and a smiling Marcus Devon stuck his head in. Jerry often called him over for a game of chess in the afternoons, and the doctor most likely assumed that's why he'd been summoned this morning. "I hear you have need of—" The smile instantly vanished to be replaced by the consummate professional. "What happened?"
"I'm not sure. I thought it was just a laceration near the temple with risk of a possible concussion, until she passed out and I noticed several red streaks running down her legs. She's hemorrhaging, Marcus. At the rate she's losing blood, I fear she may go into shock. I've called for transport."
"I heard," Marcus said, kneeling down by Elly's head where he examined her temple. "Elly, do you know who I am?"
She nodded, but kept her teeth gritted against the pain. Jerry hated thinking he might be hurting her, but she'd already lost a pint or more of blood on his clinic floor. He feared she was miscarrying even though she'd said she and Arth
ur weren't ready to start a family, yet. Sometimes nature had its own way of determining these things.
"Very good. Respiration twenty." Devon checked her pupils. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Two," she replied, her voice growing hoarse as her throat constricted. She swallowed.
"Also good." Pulling out his stethoscope, he wrapped his blood pressure cuff around Elly's arm and inflated it. "90 over 60," he called, deflating the sphygmomanometer and replacing it in his bag. Jerry knew that was too low, but they weren't quite at the critical stage, yet. Next, Marcus Devon reached for Elly's wrist, except she promptly pulled it back.
"Quick response and good motor skills, but I only want to take your pulse, Elly." Both of them noticed the gauze bandage encircling her wrists, yet neither mentioned them. There'd be enough time for questions later.
Despite her pallor, Jerry thought a trace of a blush graced Elly's cheeks.
Keeping his gaze fixed on his watch, Marcus timed her pulse. "Forty," he reported aloud before smiling at Elly. "No lower, okay?" Forty was borderline. Right now, she was at the top of the triage trauma score, but if her blood pressure, respiration or pulse went much below their current levels, she risked going into hemorrhagic shock.
"I'll try," she murmured, shutting her eyes.
"Okay, Dr. Douglas, move over a bit so I can take a look, will you?"
Jerry inched over as far as he could without removing his fingers from Elly.
"That's fine." Devon slipped on a pair of gloves. "Okay, pull the towel back a little and let me see the flow."
Jerry slowly did as Marcus requested, but when the blood started to spurt out, Marcus gave a concerned shake of his head. Jerry replaced the towel and resumed applying light pressure."