Angie’s knees weakened. How had he gotten so despondent? Had his differences with Paula created this emotional void? “You are not a failure. Your students love you, and the college respects you.”
“My students don’t count!” He flopped back down on the sofa.
Angie lowered herself next to him on the couch and rubbed his back.
He turned to her. “My competitors all hate me, you know. They’re jealous, but that hatred prevents me from getting the honors I deserve. I can’t continue to live like this.” He trembled.
Angie reached out to him and held his hand. “You’re a great artist. I’ve seen your talent. Others have seen it too.”
“Promise me you’ll stay.” He pulled her close as he had that night in the moonlight. “You must allow me to continue to inspire your talent.”
Angie struggled and jerked away. How could she stay with a man so unstable?
“You don’t think I’m serious, do you?”
“Serious about what?” He made no sense at all.
“You see. I knew you’d come to hate me, just as Paula did. You’re laughing at my pain.” He pulled a prescription bottle from his pants’ pocket and jumped up. “You’re like all the others, selfish, cunning, and here to steal my talent. Then you’ll leave and won’t share the honors with me. And I thought you would be different.” The professor ran across the room, grabbed a class of water, and opened the prescription bottle.
Angie took a step toward him. “No, wait. Please. No.”
He dumped the entire contents from the pill bottle into the palm of his hand. “You don’t care about me.”
She rushed to stop him, but he threw the pills into his mouth and gulped down the glass of water. He pointed a long finger at her. “My death is on your hands.”
“What have you done?” She grabbed the phone and hit 911.
#
Five hours later, Angie stood and stretched out her stiff back. Gazing around the waiting room area of The University of Tennessee Medical Center, she gulped down another cup of bitter coffee. The driver had kindly invited her to jump into the passenger’s seat and ride to the trauma center in the ambulance. As he hit the sirens and popped into drive, he assured her that they were racing to the finest Level1 emergency and trauma center in all of Eastern Tennessee.
After rechecking the time, she settled back into her rickety chair. She rocked herself as she waited for the doctor to come. Why was it taking so long? Was he dead? If so, was that her fault? She wanted to call Jonathan, but he’d be upset. He hadn’t wanted her to come to Knoxville at all. Now look at the mess she was in.
All her life, she’d been naive. But this adventure was worse than naive. She’d been stupid—the queen of stupidity. She ran through life with a belief that all people were good. Everything turned out for the best. Life was fair to all. How ingenuous she was. Time after time, choice after choice, she failed to see the truth. What a difficult weakness to live with. Could it be that she had once again failed to understand what others saw—reality?
The front-desk volunteer paged the family of James Turner. Shaking from too much caffeine, and dizzy with exhaustion, she stood and walked over to the reception desk.
He asked, “Turner family?”
She nodded.
“You have a call holding.”
She picked up the receiver and said, “Hello?”
A deep male voice greeted her. “I’m Doctor Black. Are you a family member of James Turner?”
“No, I’m a friend. He has no family in Knoxville. I rode in the ambulance with him. Is he going to be all right?”
“Mister Turner will need to stay the night. We’ve stabilized him, pumped his stomach, and given him an I.V. of fluids. You can take him home tomorrow. I recommend that he follow up with his psychiatrist as soon as he gets home. If he doesn’t have one, I‘ll have a list of three names for him to consider with his discharge papers. He will be discharged at noon tomorrow.”
“Will he be all right?”
No response. The doctor was gone.
Angie slouched in the waiting-room armchair. Guilt gnawed at her. What should she do now? If she called Jonathan, he’d come to get her immediately. The professor might actually succeed in killing himself. If she stayed, well, staying with a depressed suicidal man she hardly knew, did that make sense? She’d seen he was high-strung, but try to kill himself, never.
Vicki had tried to convince her that the professor was an emotional abuser. But would an abuser attempt suicide? If he was an abuser, his attempt might be a way to control her. Her mind, her life, and even her thoughts, all now seemed to be centered on the professor. That sounded like mind control. If his end-game was to control her, she might never see Jonathan again.
The professor was eccentric, yes. But a premeditated abuser, she wasn’t sure. Vicki hardly knew him. If he wasn’t an abuser, leaving might put him at risk. She should stay for his sake. At the end of their sessions, she would leave gracefully, promising to remain in touch. His mental health and his life depended on her staying. If she made the wrong decision, it could cost her everything she valued. Best of all, if she stayed, Jonathan would never have to know.
Mind made up, Angie inquired about an available cab.
Thirty minutes later the driver dropped Angie off in front of the professor’s house. She dragged herself out of the backseat, handed the cabbie a twenty, and slunk toward the cottage. As she unlocked the front door, she noticed a note taped on the door. Once inside, she opened the envelope.
Angie,
I saw the ambulance this morning and was afraid you had been hurt.
Please call me when you get this note.
Hanna – 865-218-5555
Angie checked the time. Ten minutes to 11. She had spent the entire day and evening at that hospital, and she still had no idea how the professor was doing. She couldn’t deal with questions now. She’d make contact in the morning. Her body and mind demanded total quiet.
She shuffled across the main room, and sank onto the edge of the bed. She despised this isolation. This horrible experience had been all her fault. She had selfishly searched for her passion, her own path in life. She had lost everyone important to her. She fell onto the bed and sobbed. Why had Jonathan failed to return her call? She never meant to end their marriage. She’d needed to be Jonathan’s equal, not his tagalong. Her tears came faster. Angie threw her arms around the pillow and buried her face into the soft fabric. Finally, sometime after three a.m. she settled into a restless sleep.
Chapter 35
Angie trembled as she sat up in bed. The telephone’s persistent ring interrupted her fitful dream. Disoriented, she patted around for her cell phone, picked it up, and checked the caller I.D. No name, only a phone number she didn’t recognize. 6 a.m., who would be calling at this hour?
“Hello?”
“Angie. Thank goodness. I’ve reached you. Tell me you are still in Knoxville.” The professor’s voice quivered. “You didn’t leave did you?”
She swallowed hard. What now? Why was he such a drama-king? “Professor Turner, is everything all right?”
She recognized his panic attack from the night before. She had to get off his merry-go-round. To hell with sticking it out to save face, she needed to leave as soon as possible.
“I need you to come get me. The nurse indicated an early release. Please come now.”
Angie froze. She would not make any decision until she had time to think. She needed an exit plan. Why did this man see her as his caregiver? She was not responsible for him. “I have no way to come get you. And besides, I’m going home as soon as I can get a flight out.”
He gasped. “If you leave me here, they’ll lock me up in the psycho ward. Don’t let them put me in with those other people.”
She rubbed her eyes. He was so irrational. Perhaps he should be locked up with those other people.
“Angie, please. I never meant any harm. I was so afraid to lose you. I’m better now.”
“Drive my car. Come immediately. The keys are on the hook right inside the backdoor.”
That was nuts. Why didn’t she tell him no. He was the sick one, not her.
“Yes, I can drive your car. But you can’t get discharged until you’ve seen your doctor.”
“You have to come now. I need you. Please. If you don’t come, I’m afraid of what I might do to myself. You’re the only one who can save me.”
Angie crawled out of bed, her shoulders rounded as if carrying a heavy backpack, staring at the cell phone in her hands. Save him? She couldn’t even save herself.
“Give me an hour. I have to shower, dress, and find those car keys.” She shook her head in disbelief, hearing her own words.
“Thank you. Thank you. I’ll be waiting for you. I’m in room 1412.”
She disconnected.
Staring at the cell phone screen, she discovered four missed calls. How had she not seen them before? She missed four calls—all from Jonathan. Had he called while she was inside the hospital? Cell phones never seemed to work in the bowels of those huge steel structures.
Her dear sweet, Jonathan, what to say to him? Her situation required a face-to face explanation. He never gave her more than a minute or two and then he walked all over her words. His impatience made phone calls difficult. She needed a clear head. Surely once she returned from picking up the professor, she would know how to share her situation with him.
She missed her life in Chicago. She hoped Jonathan would still be there for her after she rid herself of the responsibility of the professor.
An hour later, car keys in hand, Angie raced to the car. A brisk touch of wind induced an involuntary shiver as the sun peeked into the eastern horizon with an orange and pink glow. The sunrise promised a fabulous day, but the task ahead of her loomed dark and ominous.
She gingerly pulled out of the professor’s driveway and turned the car onto the main street. She rarely drove in Chicago. Growing up, her family never owned a car. She hated being behind the wheels of a red BMW convertible. The car cost as much as her entire wardrobe.
Thanks to modern technology, she successfully programmed the GPS to guide her to her destination. How did people function before computers?
#
Angie parked the BMW in the hospital lot. She opened the driver’s side door, making sure she avoided touching the car next to her, and stepped out into the morning air. A breeze lifted her hair and tossed it gently across her forehead.
Only a crazy person would be here picking up this violent man. She no longer trusted him. She wanted to run, not come to check him out of the hospital and drive him home. How would she be able to get away once he was home alone with her? She might have to get help from Hanna and her husband.
Angie checked her watch—not even seven o’clock. Jonathan would be on the train, headed to work. Vicki would still be sleeping. She should be in Chicago, too.
She stiffened her back, held up her head, and stared forward. She stepped through the hospital entrance and located her way to the information desk. After confirming the room number and which elevator to ride, she marched toward the Blue elevators.
When she reached the professor’s floor, she took in a deep breath. As the elevator doors opened, Angie found herself face to face with Professor Turner—his complexion red and lips tight. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come. What took you so long?”
She stepped back and took a deep breath. How impatient he had become. He was irrational. “I came as quickly as I could. I was asleep when you called. Remember?”
He grabbed her arm. “Don’t be disrespectful.”
“Stop. You’re hurting me.” She pushed him away and rubbed her arm.
“I needed you here an hour ago.” He grabbed her again, jerking her away from the elevator, and yanking her into his room.
She pulled herself free from his grasp. “Don’t you ever touch me like that again.” She stomped back toward the door.
“Wait. Let me explain.” He reached behind her and shoved the door closed. “I’m sorry. I’m going insane in here.”
Angie glared at him, an icy shiver running down her spine. “You have to calm down. I refuse to take you home if you’re like this. The doctor wouldn’t release you, and I couldn’t take care of you. Don’t you understand? You mustn’t overreact?”
The hospital room door opened and a loud voice said, “Good morning. It’s time for breakfast.”
Angie settled into a side chair next to the hospital bed, still rubbing her arm.
The professor sucked in some air and returned to his bed. “I’m not hungry.”
The male nurse smiled, placed the food tray down, and uncovered the scrambled eggs and toast. “I hear you’re being released this afternoon. The chef usually sends up pancakes and bacon on a patient’s last day, not these powdered eggs. Sorry, man.”
The male nurse left as quickly as he had arrived. “I’ve got to go. Lots of hungry folks around here.”
The professor stared at his plate. He pushed the tray away and turned his head toward Angie. “I’m sorry about all this. The embarrassment is painful.”
Angie crossed her arms and hugged herself. She stared back at the professor. “No reason to be embarrassed. You’re under a lot of stress. But if you stay high-strung, you will not be released today.”
“Oh, I’ll be released today, or else. I’m so close to reaching my goal. No more time as an unknown artist,” he whispered. “You have so much promise. Together we will make them rue the day they turned on me.”
How did this man, with so much artistic talent, function day to day? He seemed so unbalanced. She wasn’t a shrink, and he badly needed one. Vickie had been right all along.
“I’m not waiting for that doctor to release me. Let’s go.”
Angie focused in on his face. If he tried to manhandle her again, she’d have him committed herself.
“What?”
“We wait for the doctor and the release, or I am going to leave without you.”
He raced over and stood in front of her, arms crossed. “You do not speak to me that way. I will not be disrespected.”
Angie stood motionless. Her gaze rose to meet his stare. “If you don’t sit down, I’ll leave and you will be placed in the care of a mental facility.”
He raised his arm as if to grab her. “No. You can’t do that.”
She pushed him back a step and resumed her stance. He had to believe she would maintain control, or she had to leave him. “If you want to go home, sit down, eat your breakfast, and wait for the doctor. He won’t be here until around noon.”
He drew in a deep breath and then exhaled. His shoulders drooped and his cheeks radiated a pulsing red. He sulked in silence for a while, then sat down and attacked his breakfast. After eating, the professor got back into his hospital bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. His calm demeanor gave Angie pause. He went from unresponsive to a madman with increased frequency.
He sighed. “I’m so sorry. I know you don’t understand me. Neither do I.”
Chapter 36
Jonathan yanked his carryon bag from the Delta overhead bin. A rush of relief filled him. The trials of air travel had ended. After successfully surviving security, a thirty-minute wait time on the tarmac, and a short bumpy flight to Knoxville, four hours had crept by. All he thought about was locating Angie.
Dragging his bag behind him, he caught the escalator to the baggage area and eventually the exit. He turned his cell phone back on, and glared at the missed calls. Gina was on the hunt for him. He groaned and pushed the redial button on his phone.
“Boss, thank goodness you called. Where are you?”
“I’m doing what I should have done weeks ago—bringing Angie home.”
“You’re in Knoxville? Does she know you are there? “
&nb
sp; “No. I can’t reach her by phone. She may be in trouble.”
“What do you want me to tell the man upstairs?”
“Tell him I quit. My life is not going to be on hold any longer.”
Gina did not respond immediately. Then she whispered into the phone, “How about if I tell him you had a family emergency and will call him later?”
“Say anything you want. But I am out of there. I won’t change my mind. You told me to man-up, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“I’ll cover for you today. If you aren’t coming back, you can call Carl yourself.”
“Fine. I’ll handle it later. Right now I have to find my wife.”
“Good luck, Boss. I’m proud of you.”
He sighed, as he closed his cell. He was going to need some good luck.
Within a few minutes, he reached the Avis car rental booth, and picked up keys to a subcompact and a map to the Knoxville area. He made his way toward I-275. Tennessee was in full bloom. Jonathan, a long time city boy, drank in the early summer colors. The highway was lined with golden Tulip Popular trees gently bending in the soft breeze. He marveled at the white flowers on the Cleveland Pears. He understood why Angie had fallen in love with this area of the country. It was gorgeous.
With minimal traffic, cars moved swiftly and without congestion. Compared to Chicago traffic, this drive was eventless. He checked the map, located Route 275, and headed onto the bypass toward Marysville. The trip time was estimated at around half an hour.
He reached the 900 block of Somerset Drive and slowed as he approached the house of Professor Turner. He drove a half-block past the address and stopped the car. Not sure of what his next steps should be, he opened the driver’s side door and surveyed the professor’s domain.
Muscles tensed and ready to attack, he edged out of his car, studied the area full circle, and glanced up and down the street. Satisfied no one was around. He marched up in front of 966 Somerset Drive, strode up the sidewalk, and pounded on the door. No answer.
He made a fist, rapped on the door again, and waited. Still no response. He stepped back off the front porch and re-inspected the neighborhood. No one seemed to notice him making a racket. He slipped around to the side of the house, following a narrow flagstone path. He found himself in the backyard staring at a small log cabin. That must be where Angie had been staying. He rushed to the cottage door and alternated pounding and punching the doorbell. No one came to the door.
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