A Kiss for Emily (Emily Stokes Series)

by J. P. Galuska

  “I can make it.” Elizabeth took off running.

  She made it, just in time to hear the lock click.

  “No!” she wailed, desperately groping the door panels. There were no handles. “This place is a nightmare! We can’t get in.”

  “Oh, I think we will,” John muttered, pounding on the silver metal door.

  Elizabeth turned toward her husband and winced at the sight of the saturated blouse.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said.

  “It looks bad.”

  “It’s a cut, Izzy. Don’t worry!” John repeated.

  Trying to dismiss the gruesome sight, Elizabeth pointed to a scanner located next to the door. “We need an access badge.”

  “We need a good lawyer.” John resumed pounding on the door. “Let us in! There has been a terrible mistake!”

  “Let us in! I need my Emily,” Elizabeth pleaded.

  “Step aside!” a voice of authority sounded from behind them.

  Both John and Elizabeth whirled around to find none other than Dr. Kendall.

  Flames burned John’s cheeks. “You!” John growled. “You sick bastard! You are responsible for this.”

  “What is the meaning of this outburst?” Kendall asked harshly, his arm flailing in the air.

  “We’ve come for our daughter. Take us to her now!” Elizabeth demanded.

  “That would be difficult,” Kendall replied.

  “At least stop the procedure,” John demanded.

  “I can’t.” Kendall stepped back, away from the bloody shirt. “It hasn’t started.”

  Elizabeth’s knees went weak. “What kind of a game are you playing, anyway?”

  “No game. Let me reassure you, I fully believe this treatment is in her best interest.”

  “Nonsense!” Elizabeth said. “Why else would you hide the authorizations? I tell you, I’ve had to deal with types like you more often than I’d like to remember, but you definitely top them all!”

  “And what type might that be, Madam?”

  “One who derives power by lording over those who truly have no power. Your pompous attitude is only a poorly disguised cover up of your true feelings of inadequacy. In layman’s words, Dr. Kendall, you suffer from Small Dick Syndrome!”

  An eavesdropping orderly stifled a laugh as he held ajar the double doors. “You folks must be Mr. and Mrs. Stokes. We’ve been expecting you. Excuse me Dr. Kendall, but would you like to show the Stokes’ in, or should I just bring them back?”

  Kendall scarcely acknowledged the question as he dismissed them all with the slight of his hand.

  “Follow me.” The orderly gestured; his friendly voice added a calming effect to the situation.

  “How in the hell can they call this a ‘suite’?” John asked, rereading the posted signs on the wall.

  Elizabeth pulled him past.

  “It looks like you’ll be needing some stitches,” the orderly stated, looking back at John. “We can’t do that here, but I can arrange for transportation over to the ER.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got my truck.”

  The orderly acknowledged John’s response with a worried nod.

  John scanned the surroundings, which were gray and dull, except for the orderly, who was dressed in green scrubs. He felt uncomfortable in the dimly lit area and it occurred to him that he stepped rather quietly, as if avoiding capture.

  The orderly led them through a second door where a padded table dominated the room. Behind it, stood a nervous looking woman dressed in a white lab coat, fiddling with the linens in her hands.

  “Our daughter: Emily Stokes. Where is she?” Elizabeth asked.

  The woman glanced over at the male orderly and then back at the couple. “She never arrived. I got a call from security not too long ago.”

  A hot flash zipped through John’s body. He didn’t know whether to be alarmed or relieved. “Where is she?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer that. It seems that she disappeared sometime during her transfer,” she replied.

  John looked to Elizabeth. She stood motionless, her eyes transfixed on the floor. Finally, she looked up and met John’s eyes.

  “This is good,” she said.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  THE FUGITIVE

  I PRETENDED to be asleep the moment the men entered my hospital room.

  “A-1 Transporting Service. Here for Emily Stokes,” one of them said.

  “She’s knocked out, Ted. No need for introductions.”

  “So she is,” Ted replied.

  At the mention of a transfer, my mind raced with all sorts of awful scenarios. The gnat’s warning popped loudly in my ears: Get out as soon as possible. Dr. Kendall is crazy.

  Heat flushed my body.

  “Not like that,” the other man snapped. “Put the gurney on this side.” Sounds of scuffling feet stopped as something jarred against my bed.

  “Can I help you fellas?” I recognized the voice…the young nurse, Brandy. I considered grabbing onto her.

  “Naw, we got it.” Ted spoke up.

  “You two taking her over to Parkview?” Brandy asked.

  “That would be the plan,” the bossy one stated.

  A hand rested upon my leg. Maybe it was Brandy’s.

  “I wish she didn’t have to go there. It’s no place for a girl like this,” she said.

  “Why not?” asked Ted.

  “It’s not our decision,” the bossy one snapped. “We work for a transport company and it’s our job to transport this patient. Now, excuse me. We need to be on our way.”

  After being lifted and bumped onto the other bed, I silently thanked Brandy for the little information she had just given me. I gathered that whatever awaited me at Parkview was what I needed to avoid.

  In no time at all, I was being rushed down the hall towards a place where I should never arrive. The high pitch screech of a squeaky wheel became my solace knowing its silence meant something worse. I tried to concentrate, to come up with a plan, but with each curve we rounded, the only idea that grew stronger was my fear.

  I needed help.

  But I only had me.

  Forcing aside my darkest uncertainties, I knew I couldn’t arrive at Parkview. Somehow, I had to escape; denial wouldn’t work for me this time. An escape. Yes. I’d sneak away during the transfer.

  A gust of hot air signaled our passage through the automatic doors. An engine idled nearby.

  The screeching wheel went silent. I could scarcely breathe.

  “Open the door,” the bossy man said. A draft of chilled air mixed with the humid air outside.

  Faster than I thought possible, I was inside the vehicle. Only the doors didn’t shut.

  “I’ll ride in back,” Ted said. The rear end of the vehicle sagged as he stepped aboard.

  My plan was doomed.

  “Just ride up in front with me,” the bossy partner replied. “She’s not going anywhere. Let’s eat our burgers before they get completely cold.”

  “Yeah, I hate stale fries,” Ted agreed. The back of the vehicle bobbed upward.

  The doors closed, leaving me unaccompanied.

  All at once, a huge weight seemed to rise off my chest. Opening my eyes for the first time since leaving my room, I found myself in the back of a no-frills cargo van. With my head off the pillow, I realized the vertigo was nearly gone and I started to believe I might actually pull this off. Eyeing the door latch, it looked simple enough to operate; a quick turn and I’d slip out. But I couldn’t allow myself to get too excited. I wasn’t free yet.

  Not knowing the intended route, I considered it best not to wait too long. Too bad Brandy didn’t mention how long the trip would take.

  The van started to move. One of the men switched on the radio and cranked it up. Better still.

  I easily unbuckled the safety straps, and keeping low, rolled off the bed and crouched on the floor. The intense feel of cold steel beneath my feet made me gasp. Unnoticed by the t
wo men, I edged to the far rear of the plain metal van.

  I was ready. My hand gripped the door latch. At the next stop, I’d do it.

  Or the next.

  With no windows in the back of the van, I was flying blind. The loud music playing up front prevented me from hearing any outside noises. Double whammy. At least I had my wits.

  It took a while for the van to come to a second stop. When it did, I made the commitment. Twisting the handle, I pushed the door open a crack and hoped for the best. The intersection looked deserted. Quietly, I gathered the back of my hospital gown, slipped out the back of the vehicle and gently pressed the door closed.

  Checking for gawking pedestrians, I skirted to the sidewalk and watched the A-1 transport vehicle drive off as the light turned green.

  I was free.

  Glancing down both paths of the sidewalks, a frown crossed over my face. Now if only there were still payphones on the corners!

  Unfamiliar with the lower side of town, I continued south in hopes of finding a main road, or at least something other than housing. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes before I heard a squad car tear around the corner.

  My heart lurched to my throat. They’re on to me!

  With only half a block between us, I dove into the middle of leafy shrubbery, not expecting a yard on the other side. I landed in what squished like dog poop, but I was so afraid, it didn’t really matter at this point.

  The police car raced past without slowing.

  Were the cops really looking for me…a fugitive? What would they do to me if they found me?

  I waited for my heart to recover. Then I wiped my hand in the grass. Taking to my feet, I snuck around the landscape and peered down the sidewalk, wondering where I could find a phone.

  A siren blared in the near distance. Something was going on. I fled back to the safety behind the bushes as two more police cars zipped past. They headed in the same direction as the first. Maybe to Parkview.

  I made it as far as a Chinese restaurant when the patrol cars returned and started trolling the streets. If any were K-9 units, I’d be had for sure. I scrambled to the back-end of the building and wedged myself between a dumpster and a small privacy fence to wait it out. The sides of the dumpster were plastered with layers of old food and slimy grunge; the fence, with splinters. The smell of rancid oil clung to the air. I held my breath and hoped my pounding heart wouldn’t give me away. The crackle of a police scanner gave away their location. I envisioned a uniformed officer peering out an open car window.

  And all the means of discipline strapped to his belt.

  Fear and worry filled my head. What if the cop is having a bad day? What if he has anger management problems? What if he shoots me?

  The K-9 dogs never arrived and eventually, the sounds of the scanner moved on, allowing me to make my next move. I had to find a phone. For the first five minutes I walked with a limp because my right leg had gone numb from squatting in such an awkward position. For the next five, I wondered where the cops went, and what was living inside the grease smeared all over my hospital gown.

  After the wind picked up and blew the back of my robe wide open, I considered it might be better to take my chances with the cops. I’d surrender with my hands up. I was tired, every pebble I stepped on stuck to the bottom of my bare feet, and I smelled like an old egg roll. Then I spied the clothesline.

  I felt a bit like a creeper, sneaking into the back yard. The clothes were worn, boys, and the pants were way too big around the waist, but at least I was rid of the hospital garb. As I stashed the robe in a neighboring trash can, it occurred to me there might me a drugstore on Gage. Gage was only three blocks away.

  “Excuse me,” I said to the girl behind the counter at Walgreen’s. The way she looked at me made me very self-conscious; I went for my hair and felt muck on the back of my head. Something must have rubbed off while I hid behind the dumpster at the Chinese restaurant. I gave the cashier a polite smile. “I’m part of a church group. We’re raising money for homeless people by pretending to live like one.” I thought it was a pretty good excuse for looking like I did.

  The girl appeared to be about my age. “Oh, yeah, I think I heard about this. It sounds like fun. I should have signed up.”

  “Do you think I could use the phone here?” Whoever designed the building placed the entrance parallel with the main street. A squad car traveling too slowly caught my eye. I pressed closer to the counter.

  The girl’s eyes traveled to the road and back to me. “We’re not supposed to let anyone use the house phone,” she said.

  “Please, I really don’t feel well. I’d like to call my parents for a ride.”

  The girl thought a moment more. “Make it quick.” She handed me the phone. “My boss is in the back.”

  I dialed Mom’s cell number. “Don’t freak out. I’m okay. You’re where? Who’s getting stitches? I found clothes… At Walgreen’s, the one on Gage …I’ll be waiting.”

  I handed the phone back to the girl and tried to hide behind a rack of greeting cards beside the automatic front doors. Ignoring the cashier staring at me, I looked out onto the sun creating its final glory for the day, casting fluorescent orange rays into gray-blue skies. Tears spilled down my face. It was over.

  I was already half way out the door when the yellow taxi pulled into the lot. Mom barreled out the door.

  “Emily! Oh, thank God, Emily!” She proceeded to give me a hug, much like the kind that Kat gave.

  My baggy pants nearly fell off in the process.

  “I’m so sorry,” she finally added.

  “It’s okay.”

  She held me out at arm’s length for a visual inspection. Then she embraced me again. “How are you feeling? Ew, you smell terrible.”

  “Thanks, mostly tired. No worse for wear.”

  “My dear, sweet Emily. I can’t imagine…”

  “Let’s just get out of here. I think the cops are after me.” I expected her hug to loosen, but instead it tightened.

  “It’s not you. The cabbie told me that someone robbed this very store earlier today.”

  And to think I was afraid of the good guys! “What’s with the cab, anyway?”

  “Your dad needed the truck to drive back over to the hospital to get his stitches,” she said, still holding me.

  “Shouldn’t he have taken a taxi?”

  “You know your father,” she said. And then just stood there. “I can’t seem to let you go.” With a tiny huff, or maybe a laugh, she gave me another kiss on the forehead. “Are you hungry? We can hit a drive-thru.” With a bit more struggling, she finally managed to break an arm free to open the cab door. Climbing in after me, she left no room between us. Settling in, her arm wrapped around my shoulders and I laid my head to rest.

  The cab pulled up in front of the hospital and I could see Dad waiting just inside the emergency entrance. Even from inside, I could see the large gauze turban wound around his head and left side of his face.

  “It’s my Sunshine!” he said, emerging from the waiting area with his arms outstretched. Wrapped in his arms, I felt warm and loved.

  “Your face. Does it hurt?” I asked, letting go.

  “Still numb.” He poked his finger into his cheek.

  “It looks bad. How many stitches?” I said.

  “It’s just a little scratch. Twelve,” Dad replied, looking a bit proud.

  “Twelve?” Mom shrieked.

  “Did Brandy call you and tell you to come?” I asked.

  “Who’s Brandy?” Dad asked.

  “A nurse. I’m not really sure, but I think she decided not to give me the medicine any more. Could she get into trouble for that?”

  “The only one who’s getting in trouble is Kendall.” Dad’s face twisted.

  “I’d like to thank her, if she did,” Mom added.

  With my Dad’s head wrapped in a gauze turban, and blood on my mother’s clothes, I wondered what all I’d missed. Making sure no one else w
as near, I leaned in closer to my parents. Copying me, we formed a tight circle.

  “You didn’t leave him in an alley somewhere, did you?” I whispered.

  “Emily James Stokes!” Mom barked.

  Dad laughed. Then it started. “There’s a man who should have never been allowed to practice medicine. I. Tell. You…I’m getting a lawyer and—”

  “Thanks for coming to get me.” I wrapped my arms around his waist. His tirade ended. “You too, Mom.”

  “Thank yourself, Em. I’m not sure how you managed to get out of the hospital unnoticed, but they’ll be talking about you for years!”

  I managed a smile. “Where do we go from here?” I asked, still clinging to my father.

  “Home, I suppose,” he said. “Unless there is something else—”

  “So, do you still think I’m crazy?” The words brought about a sudden wave of nausea.

  “Oh, honey!” Mom sighed. “We never believed you were crazy. Kendall’s diagnosis was convenient, but it didn’t make sense. Dad and I talked about toxins… concussions. We knew something wasn’t right, but didn’t have an explanation.”

  “That’s right. Do you know you’re not crazy?” Dad asked with a candid laugh.

  Relieved, I finally had the courage to let go. “I figured it out just before the medication arrived. What changed your minds?”

  Mom’s brow rose in a bewildered gasp. “Kat brought Sam home.”

  I thought back to the last time I had seen him. Explode. I thought about all the things I discovered on the Internet about his parent’s history. “What did you think about Sam?”

  My parents looked at one another.

  “I think we were hoping you could tell us,” Dad said.

  I didn’t want it to, but my face cringed anyway. “I think I’m dating a dead guy.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  RESUSCITATION

  THE LAST THING Alex did was grab his chest and fall to his knees.

  For a long time, there was nothing.