“Hi,” she greeted me, sitting up on the sofa, rubbing her eyes and turning in my direction. “Is that my girl calling for Mama?” she chortled to Carrie.
“We’ve created a monster, I’m afraid. She thinks she has two mamas and of course you know what that makes other people think.”
Bitsy’s head cocked to one side. “Never thought of it like that.”
“So, listen, as soon as these eggs are done, I’m off to work. Metallica has some consultants coming in from some of our bigger lines and I’ve been asked to sit in. It’s sort of a pain, but more of an honor. I’m going to run late tonight, so I’ll check in with Mrs. Heathrow and make sure she can take Carrie off your hands when you leave for work.”
“Works for me. I’m headed to the bathroom and then I’ll fry myself some eggs. That smells good.”
I nodded and soon scooted Carrie into my arms and got her ready for the day, my eyes glued to the clock. Colt had promised to call, and he knew I had to be at work. I sort of expected him to have already texted me or something.
I put Carrie in the playpen and slid on my shoes.
Bitsy was fully awake and looking around. “I noticed some fancy trash in the kitchen. You have company?”
“You know very well who,” I grinned and said.
“We need another bedroom.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said and winked as I left.
Chapter 15
Coulter
Although I had the best people money could buy, it was pure anguish to watch Buddy lie there, unconscious with me unable to help him. I wracked my brain to come up with solutions. I had the jet standing by and could have flown him anywhere in the world if it would have helped. My doctors told me he was too fragile to be moved and after consulting with the staff doctor at Mount Mercy, they assured me he was in the best situation possible and only time would make the difference in his outcome.
I wasn’t allowed to sit in the ICU room with him, and I understood that. I took up post, instead, in the family waiting room on the same hall. While his body had sustained cuts and skeletal damage, it was his head injury that caused the greatest concern. When they came in to tell me they were taking him into the operating room to drill a hole through his skull, I thought it was all over. They explained they were releasing pressure from the swelling and even if he made it through the surgery, they would keep him in a coma to put the least demands on his body. I paced and thought and then repeated it. Finally, it occurred to me that Bitsy should know and perhaps it could even be a good influence for him to hear her voice. I texted her and in less than forty-five minutes she came into the waiting room, little Carrie in a stroller and a diaper bag over her shoulder. “They won’t let me in to see him,” she told me.
I nodded. “I know. They’re about to take him into surgery and release pressure from the swelling on his brain. I’m sorry about all this,” I said, motioning to the room in which we sat, “but they tell me he can’t be moved elsewhere so this is what we have to work with.”
Bitsy followed by glance and looked around. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand what’s wrong?”
I realized that to Bitsy, this rather unknown hospital was what she was accustomed to. I would have had him in a private suite at Mayo if they’d let me.
What the hell am I saying? What an ass I’ve turned into—an arrogant, privileged ass.
“What can I do?” Bitsy asked, her kindly eyes filled with empathy and dampness on her cheeks. She’s really not so bad, I thought. She seems to really care about him.
“Nothing, right now. It’s out of our hands.” I sat forward in my chair. “Look, Bitsy. Buddy has the best I can get for him. He’s going to get worse before he gets better—they tell me that’s normal. But he will come out of this—that much I promise you. Between you and I, we will bring him back if we have to suction his consciousness right out of his nostrils!”
She laughed at that and I was glad to see we could relax and be less morose. It made the waiting that much easier. That was a good thing because there was plenty of it to be done.
Chapter 16
Gwen
Metallica was in her element. She reigned like a queen over her subjects as the consultants fought for her attention and I stood by silently, doing her bidding and learning. I’d yet to ever see her smile, but the radiance on her face came as close to it as I suppose she was capable.
It was, however, exhausting. There was so much to remember and although I sat in the corner and furiously took notes, at some point it all began to run together.
I was having problems concentrating and Colt was the reason why. I’d emerged from my building that morning, having completely forgotten that my car was still marooned at work and not running. To my immense surprise, my car was sitting in the parking lot, clean, detailed and filled with gas. I used my spare key to open it and there was a gold keyring on the seat, inscribed with my initials. There was also a second set of keys and an envelope with my name on it.
“Stop by Waltham’s on your way home. There’s a little something there I want you to have. I don’t want any strangers giving you rides home—they could decide they want to stay!”
I had no idea what kind of place Waltham’s was, but it didn’t matter because I was running late, and my car was safely in my hands. I turned the key and the engine answered like a knight on a white horse.
Colt had probably ordered that all done the day before, even before he slept with me. He had planned to leave me marooned, after all. Why wasn’t he calling?
Then I knew.
He’d seen me—the real me. He’d seen where and how I lived in that shoddy, little, odd apartment with the cracks in the ceiling and tiny shower with rust stains. He knew he couldn’t have me lugging Carrie around on my hip on dates and that he certainly wasn’t going to spend the night at my place—not when the only place to sleep was half of a cramped bed with a young child staring over the crib railing at him.
Of course! What a fool I’d been! I’d allowed myself to forget, in the space of one cozy little evening, that men were all the same. They used you, like a cat toy. They flirted and bragged and promised, when all along, all they wanted to know was how good you were in bed and whether they should brag about you to their locker room buddies or try to forget they’d ever touched you.
When would I ever learn?
Metallica was looking in my direction and I could tell I’d been drifting mentally and not paying attention. I struggled to pick up the thread of conversation and realized the meeting had come to an end and she’d asked me to show out the guests. I scrambled to comply and as I shook hands and let the last one out the door, I turned around to see her glaring at me.
“You had better things to do?” she barked, and the store grew quiet as both customers and employees stopped what they were doing to hear me getting chewed out. I knew my face was flaming. This was all Stillman’s fault—he’d gotten in the way of my career, just as Paul had ruined my dreams.
I choked back tears and felt my phone vibrating and then it stopped, only to repeat fifteen seconds later. It was Bitsy! Something was wrong and that was our signal to find a place and call.
I apologized to Metallica and pretended to cry so I could run to the ladies’ room. She seemed appeased by my obedience and let me go, glaring at the others in the store to remind them who was queen.
I locked myself in a stall and quickly called Bitsy. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is Carrie okay?”
“She’s fine. I need you to come to Mount Mercy Hospital, fifth-floor waiting room. Buddy was in a car wreck and he’s hurt bad. They’ve got him in surgery and you need to pick up Carrie and take her to Mrs. Heathrow’s. Hurry.”
Bitsy hung up and I was left there, my mouth open as I tried to absorb what she’d said. I washed my hands and emerged from the ladies’ room, heading straight for Metallica’s office. Tapping on the glass, she looked up and nodded for me to come in.
“I’m sorry to disturb you but I ne
ed to talk to you.”
Her eyes widened and then narrowed. She thought I’d come to apologize and throw myself at her feet.
“I have to go, now. You never asked, and I have never shared that I have a baby, Metallica. My roommate and I work opposite shifts so she’s cared for properly but there’s been an emergency and I have to go and pick her up. I’m sorry I never told you and I’m sorry about what happened back there in the meeting. I know you’re angry and I hope we can talk when I get back.” The words spilled out of my mouth like an overflowing river—the flood getting broader and broader as I revealed more. Her response was blunt.
“Leave now.”
I didn’t stop to sort out whether that meant to leave now because I had trouble, or because she didn’t want me to be there or come back. I’d have to figure it all later, but right then, I needed to get to my daughter and my best friend.
I pulled away from the curb distracted and a car honked behind me, letting me know I’d been careless. Pull it together, I told myself and headed toward the hospital. In the next second, I turned the corner, deciding to drop by the apartment which was only a couple of blocks away. I would pick up some extra things for Bitsy and pack a quick bag for Carrie. I’d also check in with Mrs. Heathrow. I hoped she’d take Carrie early, so I could go back and see if I still had a job.
It started to rain; great plops of water from over-burdened clouds and that only added to the dramatic misery I was about to live through.
Once upstairs, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Our apartment door was standing open. Bitsy hadn’t left it that way in a hurry—no, this was more. Much more. At a glance, I could see the lock had been damaged and I poked my head around the door to peek inside. It was chaos. The kitchen drawers were pulled open and contents raked onto the floor. The sofa cushions overturned and slashed, their stuffing ripped into shreds on the carpet. My bedroom was a complete disaster: drawers overturned, bedding shredded into strips and worst of all, my beautiful new wardrobe had been slit into grossly barbaric pieces and the smell of urine was fresh and damp upon their cloth. The only things that weren’t touched were those belonging to Carrie. Her crib, playpen, clothes and other necessities were untouched.
I stared in horror. This was not a random act by a burglar. No, this was intentional and directly aimed at me. The fact that Carrie’s possessions were left untouched spoke volumes. I could feel a panic begin to rise and knew that I didn’t have the luxury of giving into it. I had to find the things I needed in the apartment and take them with me to the hospital. I needed to get to my daughter and not waste any more time. I grabbed an extra diaper bag, stuffing her little things into it. In the kitchen, I made some quick bottles for her and packed them into my baby cooler. The dresser where Bitsy kept her clothing had been rifled through, but nothing had been destroyed. Apparently, whoever had done this wasn’t angry with her—they were angry with me. My hands shaking, I pulled together an extra set of clothes for her and threw them in a paper bag. My luggage in hand, I shut the door and locked it securely, although it was a joke since the lock had been destroyed.
Mrs. Heathrow said she would be only too glad to take Carrie early. I did not tell her about the mess upstairs. No one would discover it unless they went up there and the less said about it the time being, the better. I didn’t have time to make a police report or to clean up the mess.
As I drove to the hospital, the few names of people I knew in town rolled through my mind. Obviously, Bitsy and her boyfriend, Buddy, were out of the question. That left our small group of friends we partied with, but nothing had happened recently that would’ve triggered that sort of invasion. I was down to the people at work. Most of the salespeople were on an as-needed basis, polite and supportive as far as work went. I knew this was beneath Metallica and after all, she had been with me when it probably took place.
That left one person, and only one. That left the one person who could not take no for an answer from me. That one person inserted himself continually in my private life. That man overrode my decisions in favor of his own and he was entirely casual in getting what he wanted. Was this some left-handed attempt to make me more dependent on him? I remembered the note he’d left on the car seat. I looked up the name of the company he told me to visit. Waltham’s, as I remembered. The note was still lying in the seat next to me and as I drove, I double checked the name and then used the search function on my cell phone while sitting at a stoplight to track it down.
It was a Mercedes dealership. The man had bought me a car. I knew it as sure as I was sitting there, my hands shaking as the realization that I had once again lost control of my life began to sink in on me. I was in serious trouble this time. This man was powerful—he had connections and could make anything happen. He never bragged, but I knew. There was just that way about him. His people were connected; he was a man who knew how to use money. And I was his target. The horror of my predicament left me breathless.
I pulled into the parking lot of Mount Mercy Hospital, found an empty place, and picked up the bag with Bitsy’s belongings. I went inside and up to the fifth floor as she had instructed me. There was a pair of double swinging doors at the end of the hallway with a large sign that denied admittance. Just before the door was a small room with a glass wall, and as I approached, I saw Bitsy sitting in one of the chairs, her legs crossed and her face in her hands. I knew Buddy was still alive or she would not have been waiting.
“Bitsy! How’s Buddy? Are you holding up? Come here to Mama, Baby,” I said, holding out my arms to take Carrie. I heard a male clearing his throat and turned around to see the man who had just destroyed our apartment sitting in the same room!
My hands began to shake, and I could only stare at him, trying to read his face, define any sign of why he had done it. He was extremely intelligent and a gifted actor, that much I knew. He’s got to know I’ve been by the house, doesn’t he? Maybe not. He looked exhausted and was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the night before with me. I knew I had to respond somehow if only to keep them calm until I could escape. I nodded. “Hello. How is Buddy? It’s great that you’re here for him. Do you know what happened?”
He must’ve felt the force field I was sending out to keep him away because he stood but didn’t approach me. “Hi. It seems like weeks since I’ve seen you. I got the call last night on my way home,” he explained. “I don’t know too many details about the accident, but his car flipped several times down an embankment and they had to cut them out.”
I heard Bitsy gasp behind me. Obviously, that was the first she’d heard about it. “I’m so glad they got him out in time. How badly is he hurt?”
Colt shook his head. “We don’t know. They’ve taken him into surgery and he’ll be in there for a while. They’re drilling a hole to release the pressure from his brain swelling, but they need to keep him in there in case that doesn’t work, and they need to do more. I’ve only just gotten back. Bitsy stayed to be on hand, but I went to grab some breakfast. I’m glad you’re here. Carrie shouldn’t be in this place.”
More like you went to grab some things in my apartment, I thought to myself but said, “She’s going with me now.” I turned to look at Bitsy. “Listen, I’ll keep Carrie with me or make other arrangements. You don’t worry about anything. Just be here for Buddy. I’ll take care of the rest.” She had no idea of the significance of my last sentence. It was my job to protect her, just as I did Carrie. I would clean up the apartment and she would never know what happened. I had no way to prove what I believed had taken place, and engaging Stillman at this point could prove rather dangerous. “Well, give Buddy a kiss for me. I need to go.” Without another word, I took the carriage handle and wheeled Carrie down the hallway toward the elevators. I heard my name called behind me. It was Stillman. The elevators opened, and I pushed the carriage inside, pretending I hadn’t heard. My escape had just begun.
I parked Carrie with Mrs. Heathrow, telling her that I was going to paint our apartmen
t and it would be better if Carrie wasn’t in the fumes. Her face was puzzled but she didn’t ask any questions and I didn’t offer any further explanations. Step one had begun.
I pulled the box of large trash bags from beneath the kitchen sink and started in my room. With a broken heart, I gathered the soiled fabrics and stuffed them into the bags, lining the full bags up in the hallway outside the door. The room stank from the urine and once I’d finished salvaging what was left undamaged, I got a pan and thick dish gloves and scrubbed the room thoroughly. When that was done, I pulled my suitcases out from beneath the bed and began filling them with everything that hadn’t been destroyed. Carrie’s clothes went right in with my own. I took apart her crib, using plastic wire ties to lash the pieces together. From there I moved into the kitchen, once again washing and putting things away where they belonged and gathering garbage for the growing pile in the hallway. I looked at the sofa, but there was little I could do to salvage it. I ended up pulling a flat bed sheet from the linen closet and throwing it over the sofa like a cover, tucking it in around the cushions. There wasn’t much more I could do so I began my multiple trips down to the car and the dumpster until the apartment looked barren, but not so macabre.
I took the time to sit down and write a note to Bitsy on the inside of a flattened cereal box. I told her I was sorry, but that I had brought danger in on her in the person of Colt Stillman. I didn’t go into detail, but she would see the sofa and know something had happened. I told her I was moving home again, that I was quitting my job. It was more likely my job had already quit me, but I didn’t need to explain that. I told her that as soon as I found work, I would send money for my share of the rent through the end of the lease and if I could spare it, a little extra so that she could ride the bus down and visit me and Carrie. I knew she had become attached to my daughter and I couldn’t just dump her that way. My closing words were to wish her well with Buddy and to beware of his friend. There was nothing left to say, so I scribbled my signature and wedged the cardboard into the edge of the cupboard door where she was sure to see it. I wasn’t sure what to do about the broken lock, so I went back inside and added a postscript to the note, telling her to have it fixed and to bill me for it. It was all I could do under the circumstances.
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