by Judy Clemens
The PP&L truck soon arrived, and the moment the workers declared the wire dead Jethro and Belle ran over to scoop Zach up in their arms. Jethro turned to hug me, but I threw my arms up, desperate to stay out of his crushing embrace.
“Oh, we’re just so glad…” Belle said, her voice tapering off.
“But Lord,” Jethro said. “Look at this place.”
I couldn’t look anymore, but I needed to check on the herd. I got up and walked away.
The milking cows were fine, having avoided any flying debris by huddling together in the long barn. The heifers, hunkered under the only tree in the back field, wandered around, mooing. But they were fine, too. And thanks to the protection of sturdy hutches—which thankfully hadn’t blown away—the calves were all unhurt.
But once again I had been struck. All blood-fueled creatures were alive, but my trees….My yard….My feed barn and garage….
I stood dully staring out across my field when I felt a presence beside me.
“You okay?” Abe asked.
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“Want to come home with me?”
“Can’t. Got to milk the cows.”
He was silent. “Guess that’s right. Want some help?”
I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. I had lost so much. Again. But Abe was still here, no matter how awkward things felt between us.
“Yes. I’d like some help,” I finally said.
Together, we walked toward the barn. Zach, seeing where we were headed, made to follow, but I stopped him.
“Go home, Zach. You deserve a break after that.”
“But—”
“We’ll be okay. Abe’ll stick around to help.”
Zach glanced at Abe doubtfully, and Abe grinned. “I may not know the job like you, but I can follow orders as well as the next man.”
Zach had to laugh at that.
By the time Lucy, Abe, and I got the cows clipped into their stalls and eating, the electric company had rigged up power to the barn. They know how vital electricity is to farmers, and seeing as how my generator was in the garage when it went, I was dependent on PP&L. Thank God they came through.
Halfway through milking Abe got a call on his cell phone. He handed it to me. “It’s Lenny.”
“Heard about the tornado and tracked down Abe’s number,” Lenny said. “You’re all okay?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be down in a jiffy.”
“Not really anything for you to do,” I said. “It’s almost dark. We can’t start cleaning up today anymore.”
“It’s not all about things,” Lenny said, and he hung up. Ten minutes later, he was at the farm.
Lucy, who had shown no emotion whatsoever since I’d told her about Scott’s visit, burst into tears as soon as Lenny dismounted his bike. He held her in his arms, and once she let it out she got back to business and we finished up the milking. Tess sat quietly in the corner, stroking Queenie.
“Come on, everybody,” I said. “I think I have some frozen pizza.”
“Uh uh,” Abe said. “I’m getting Mexican. Anybody want to ride along to El Cactus?”
He and Tess were soon back with an array of chips, beans, and burritos, as well as some two-liter bottles of birch beer and Vernor’s. By the time we had inhaled every bite I was feeling a bit more human, although I couldn’t bear to look outside. Even in the dark I could see too much destruction.
We sat around the table, no one quite sure what to say.
“Well,” Lucy finally said. “I guess I can’t blame this on my in-laws.”
We laughed too loud, for too long.
When we’d quieted, Abe said, “What now?”
“All I want to do,” I said, “is go to bed.”
Lucy stretched. “Sounds good.”
And we stilled. Lucy no longer had a bed, and I’d been too dense to even consider what that meant.
Everyone stared at me, and my insides crumbled.
“Okay,” I said. My voice cracked, so I cleared it and drank a few sips of soda. “Okay. I guess Lucy and Tess will just have to move in with me.”
***
Moving in took only the time we spent making the spare beds, seeing as how all Lucy and Tess owned had been destroyed. The two extra bedrooms took up almost as much room in my house as the entire apartment had encompassed above the garage.
Belle stopped by a little later, thrusting a bag of Mallory’s hand-me-downs into Lucy’s arms. “They might be a bit big,” she said, “but they’re clean.”
Lucy hugged Belle, and when they separated, both women’s eyes were shiny.
“How’s Zach?” I asked.
Belle smiled, wiping her eyes. “Resilient. Went off to MYF.”
“That’s right,” I said. “It is Wednesday, isn’t it?”
“Willie—Zach’s MYF sponsor—called when Zach hadn’t shown up by seven, and when we told him what happened he thought maybe Zach would like to share his experience with the rest of the kids.”
“Smart man. I bet Zach’s feeling pretty important about now.”
“Probably so.”
“Tell him goodnight for me.”
Belle left, and Tess was soon asleep. Lucy stood in the living room, shuffling her feet, Lenny beside her. I was sitting at the table, Abe in the chair next to me. My brain reeled. What in the world was I going to do with housemates?
“Come on, Lucy,” Lenny said, earning my everlasting thanks. “Let’s sit down in the other room for a bit, take a load off.”
She looked at me. I could tell she was wondering how far to take feeling at home.
“You heard the man,” I said. “Go put your feet up. Abe and I weren’t going in there anyway.”
Lucy gave me a grateful look and I watched them meander into the living room, as opposite a pair as you can get.
Abe cleared his throat. “Want me to stay?”
I closed my eyes. I had a girl upstairs in my childhood bedroom, a woman who would be taking yet another space, a friend who was there to see Lucy, not me, and a man who occupied a huge part of my heart, but not the part I had hoped.
“I don’t think so, Abe,” I said. “I really need to be alone.”
Alone.
“I understand,” he said. He leaned over to kiss the top of my head. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He walked toward the door.
“Abe,” I said.
He stopped.
“Thanks.”
He opened the door. “Anytime, Stella. I’ll help you any way I can.”
And he was gone.
I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, wondering why my decisions always came around to bite me in the ass. I had hired Lucy, feeling some kind of kinship with her, and now here I was, the epitome of independence, with two semi-permanent roommates. Wouldn’t Howie be laughing now.
On the other hand…Tess was asleep, Abe was gone, and the two lovebirds were probably necking on the sofa. Or, more likely, collapsed out of exhaustion.
Nobody for me to cater to. I liked that.
I gave a long, audible sigh of something as close to contentment as possible under the circumstances, took a nice long shower and went to bed.
But not for long.
Lenny came slamming into my room sometime in the middle of the night, scaring the bejesus out of me.
“Holy crap, Lenny,” I said. “You’re in the wrong room.”
“They got Bart,” he said. “You gotta go.”
He stumbled around the room like a drunk, wringing his hands. I shook my head to clear it.
“Who has Bart? And where am I going?”
“The hospital! And it’s them, I know it is!”
He grabbed me by the armpits and hoisted me out of bed in my T-shirt and underwear. I batted his hands away and went searching for some jeans. Once I had them on, I turned on the light.
“Sit down,” I ordered, pointing at the b
ed.
Surprisingly, he complied, the bedsprings screeching with protest.
“Now tell me what’s going on,” I said.
He let out what sounded like a sob. “Bart. Some of the guys from the club found him at the Barn. He was lying out back and he…he’s not doing very well.” He looked at me with pain in his eyes. “They stabbed him, Stella.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Is he—”
“He’s alive, but barely. The guys called the ambulance and he’s in surgery right now. You’ve gotta go down there.”
I had pulled on some boots while he was talking, so I was as dressed as I was going to be.
“Okay,” I said. “Come on.”
“I can’t.”
I stopped in the doorway and turned on him. “What do you mean, you can’t? Your best friend is at death’s door and you won’t go?”
His face crumpled. “It was me. They were after me. The only reason they did Bart was because I wasn’t there.”
The door to Lucy’s room opened, cutting off my reply, and she shuffled out, her face swollen with sleep. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. But stay with Len, will you? I’ve gotta go to the hospital and check on Bart, and Lenny’s not doing so good.”
She nodded, and after one last look to see if Lenny was following, I raced down the stairs and toward the hospital.
***
Walking in the door of Grandview Hospital’s emergency room took all the guts I had. Just five weeks before, I had entered only to find out Howie had died on the operating table. I prayed it wouldn’t be the same this time.
Besides feeling traumatized because of Howie, I had to wonder if Bart’s attackers were watching. Lenny was afraid to come because he thought they were after him, so he must think they would lure him here by getting at Bart.
The woman at the registration desk told me Bart was still in surgery and that someone would be out to let me know when he was finished. I didn’t think that sounded good, the way she put it, but I took it at face value.
When I walked into the waiting room I had to push down a hysterical laugh when I saw Detective Willard camped out on one of the sofas. He was sleeping, snoring softly with his mouth hanging open. A couple of regulars from our HOG club were sitting in a corner playing cards. Thankfully, no creepy, suspicious-looking characters were hanging around. And the skanky couple from the Biker Barn was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey guys,” I said.
My biker friends looked up guiltily, hands shielding their game.
“I don’t care you’re playing cards, you jerks,” I said. “You saved Bart’s life.” I tried to keep my voice even, and I think I succeeded.
“Want to join us?” one asked.
“Nah. But thanks.”
“Actually,” the other one said, looking at his watch. “Now that someone else is here, I gotta get goin’. My shift starts in forty-five minutes.”
For the first time, I glanced at the clock. One-fifteen. No wonder my head felt like it had been caught in a vice.
“That’s fine, guys,” I said. “I’ll take over from here. I’ll let you know when Bart can have visitors. Thanks again.”
“Hey,” one said. “He’s a brother.”
They gave me some kind of thumbs-up sign, but I couldn’t seem to coordinate my hand to do it back. I parked myself on a chair somewhere close to Willard and leaned my head against the wall.
“We’ve got to quit meeting like this,” Willard mumbled.
I opened my eyes and knew from the taste of my mouth that I’d been asleep. Willard still lay on the couch, but he was looking at me now, and he had stopped snoring. I glanced at the clock. Two forty-five.
“Heard anything yet?” I asked.
He shook his head. “This is the same guy that was at Lenny Spruce’s house the other night, isn’t it?”
“Bart Watts,” I said.
“Bart Watts.” He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Doesn’t anybody else work for the police department?” I asked.
“Not in the borough I cover. I mean, there are officers, but I’m the only detective.”
“How come you were at Lenny’s the other night, then? That’s out of your jurisdiction, isn’t it?”
“Wouldn’t you know their guy was on vacation? Disney World with the kids. And since nothing big ever happens in Perkasie, I figured I’d be safe saying yes.”
“Guess you learned.”
“Guess so. But if this is in any way connected, it’s probably a good thing I caught both cases. Good for my job. Not good for my health.”
Double doors at the end of the room swung open and I sprang to my feet. The surgeon saw us—the only two people in the waiting room—and came over, quiet in his little booties. I could tell by the look on his face that the news was different this visit, and the weight of a feed sack slid off my chest.
“Detective,” the doctor said, nodding. He turned to me and pinched his lips together, taking in my tattoos, bed head, and Harley T-shirt. “Family?”
“Practically,” I said.
Willard nodded. “She deserves to know.”
The surgeon looked skeptical, but talked anyway. “He’s going to be okay.”
I hit my fist into my palm, making the doctor jump a few inches backward. Then I remembered Bart’s religion and crossed myself on his behalf. The surgeon swallowed and kept talking, looking only at Willard.
“Most of the damage is non-life-threatening. Broken nose, a few broken teeth, lots of bruising and split skin. We put in multiple stitches, but we’ll wait for a plastic surgeon until the patient can express his own wishes.”
“He’ll love some scars,” I said.
“The worst injury,” the doc continued, ignoring me, “is the knife wound. Missed his heart and aorta both by about an inch. He’ll have quite a time recovering, but we’re going to be able to put him back together most satisfactorily. We’ve still got some work ahead of us, but I wanted to let you know as soon as possible what his prognosis is.”
Most satisfactorily. Quite different words from when Howie had been in the same ER.
“If I didn’t have sleep breath,” I said to the surgeon, “I’d kiss you.”
He took a step away, then scuttled back into surgery. I squinted at Willard, who was grinning like a kid.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing.” He grinned some more. “Nothing at all.”
Chapter Thirty-one
When I got home, my headlights flashed across the drive, revealing Lenny’s bike in the darkness. So he was still there. I hopped down from the truck, wincing slightly at the pain in my side, and walked briskly up the walk, eager to tell Lenny that Bart was going to be all right.
I remembered just in time not to slam the side door. It would take some getting used to, having to be careful about noises at night. I was sure Tess and Lucy would have to suffer through many mistakes before I got this living-together thing right. I hoped it wouldn’t last long enough I’d get too used to it.
I found Lenny in the living room, crashed on the sofa. His mouth hung open, and he emitted soft snores. The blinds were all drawn and the room was shrouded in darkness. I turned on a lamp to see his arms crossed over his chest protectively.
“Len,” I said. I shook his shoulder.
He started, his eyes opening wide and fearful. When he focused on my face, he sat up. “How—”
“He’s okay, Len. Bart’s going to be fine.”
Tears welled in his eyes, and his face tightened, his mouth quivering. I patted his shoulder until he got himself under control. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his eyes and blow his nose.
“Thanks, Stella. Oh God, I never would’ve forgiven myself.”
“I know. But now maybe it’s time to tell Detective Willard what you know.” I didn’t add that a few words the other night might have saved Bart this attack.
“
I don’t know, Stella. We’ll see.”
“See what? How soon they come after you? Don’t be an idiot. At least tell me. Who are these people? Why are they after you?”
He turned his face away, and I fought the desire to slap him. “Fine,” I said. My voice sounded wooden. “What now?”
Still looking away, he asked, “What time is it?”
“Quarter after three.”
He rested his head on the back of the couch, and his face, gray from worry and fatigue, sagged.
“Just stay here, Len,” I said. “No reason for you to make the ride to your place. What’s one more person in this house, anyway?” I tried out a laugh, but it didn’t quite work.
He lay down on the couch, resting his arm on his eyes. I couldn’t imagine the guilt he must be feeling.
But I could feel the anger building in me. Anger at Lenny—he should’ve told Willard what he knew; anger at the assholes who plunged their knives into Bart; and anger at myself. I knew a lot of what Lenny knew. I should’ve told Willard the night those jerks entered Lenny’s house. And now, because of my silence, Bart lay bleeding and broken in the hospital.
I vowed that the next day I would either convince Lenny to spill his story to the detective, or I would do it. So to hedge my bets, I’d do some investigating to find out what Lenny wasn’t telling me. It’s not like one or two hours of sleep were going to do me any good, anyway.
I grabbed my keys from where I’d tossed them on the counter, and headed back out to my truck.
When I got to Lenny’s house I did a ride-by, checking out the vehicles parked along the road. All foreign jobs, and no bikes. If his biker enemies were there, they hadn’t ridden. And no outlaw would drive anything but American. My stop at the curb was far from graceful, and I hoped my tires had survived the bump.
I strode up the walk, but when I reached the front door I remembered I didn’t have a key.
“Dammit,” I said out loud.
I had to walk around the entire block to get to Lenny’s garage, and I hesitated before entering the alley that ran behind the rowhomes. For the second time that night, I broke out in a sweat. The alley would be a prime spot for someone to hide.
I made a fist around my keyring, arranging the key points between my fingers, so anyone jumping me would get a face full of metal. I took my first step in, wondering if I should go back and get the wrench from the glove compartment of my truck, when a gate from a backyard flew open. A man in an undershirt flung a garbage bag into a can, rattling it loud enough to wake any sleeping neighbors. He didn’t see me, and turned right around and went back into his yard, his gate slapping closed behind him.