“Not everything,” I reminded him. “Remember the night we met? Cut off sweatpants and a paint-splattered Mickey Mouse T-shirt?”
“All I remember is how adorable I thought you looked. Your hair mussed, and the sweat glistening down your neck…” He traced his thumb along my collarbone.
“If that is the way you remember me that night, I wonder about your mental processes,” I laughed.
We had a quick breakfast of beignets and coffee at Café Du Monde, and then made our way down Decatur Street to the cemetery. The tour guide was just starting, so we joined in the small group. I listened intently as he went over the facts and legends of Madame Marie Laveau. Once again, the facts surrounding the woman’s life were much more interesting to me than the legend and fiction.
She was a free woman of color who worked her way into being a successful businesswoman at a time when women were totally dependent on men. As the tour guide told the legends about how she was sought after for her love spells and gris-gris bags to bring passion and true love, he brought us to her family plot. Her tomb was laden with fresh gifts from people seeking her blessings and favors, even 125 years after her death.
We wove through the cemetery, learning of other famous people buried there and interesting tombs and family plots. I shivered as I walked between the massive concrete enclosures, some graves seeming to be totally encased in concrete. In the old days, entire coffins were known to rise to the surface and be carried away by the floods because of the high water tables. The concrete was to keep the dead in the ground.
I was struck by the unusual beauty of some of the more ornate tombs, and ran my hand over several headstones. The tour lasted more than two hours. Afterward, I wandered over to several graves in the oldest section of the cemetery. One grave was marked in French, the inscription reading “Ma vie entière, mon amour pour toujours - My entire life, my love forever.” It was beautiful, with hand-carved roses and calla lilies. I took a piece of tracing paper from my purse, and placed it across the inscription and artwork, and gently rubbed a charcoal I had with me across the paper to copy the indentions. As I rose up, Banton studied me curiously.
“I used to do this with Maw Maw Irene and my mom. My mother used to say that the cemetery was one of the most beautiful and most peaceful places to spend time. She used to read the headstones to me before I could read, and we would make up stories together about the lives of the people buried there. We would go there on Memorial Day, Veteran’s Day, Mothers Day – to replace the flowers on family plots. I know it’s a strange memory to treasure, but I do.”
“That is a special thing to do with a child, I think,” Banton replied as he took the tracing from me. “That is something I think everyone should do – teach a respect for the generations that have passed before us and hand down the care of those resting places.” He handed the tracing back, and took my hand in his.
I wondered at the beautiful, massive tombs that rose up in some sections even over Banton’s head. It could be a frightening place in the dark, I imagined, you couldn’t see around one tomb to the next. Banton stopped to kneel and read the inscription on a tiny grave with a small angel on it. I spotted some Confederate flags fluttering on a group of graves up ahead, and moved toward them. Turning the corner around a rather large tomb, I froze in my tracks. I was face to face with a small man, hardly taller than me. He had a bulky build, and dark, olive skin. But what startled me were his eyes. They seemed to glow, they were so vivid. Vivid green. He smiled slowly, as if he knew my thoughts. His teeth gleamed in the sunlight, and I saw…small fangs, just longer than his front teeth? Everything was in slow motion. My heart began to pound, and I took a couple of steps backwards. I glanced to my right, and to my left, and there was no one in sight. Our entire tour group had moved on, and I couldn’t see anyone. I turned to run as he caught my arm.
“What do you want?” I gasped loudly, hoping Banton would hear me. He only turned his head, studying my face. He smiled bigger, and leaned in close to me. I could see a row of tattoos on his dark skin down his neck, and up and down his arms…tattoos of snakes. He had several deep scars running across his face.
“Let me go!” I shouted now. “Let go!” I tried to pull away from him, and he strengthened his grip, twisting my arm behind me. I winced, feeling as though my arm would break. He shoved me against the tomb, slamming my head and shoulders against the concrete. There being no space between us, I could feel his rank, dirty breath on my throat. Finding my voice, I finally let out a blood curdling scream.
“Chandler!” I could hear Banton’s alarmed voice a couple of rows away. The man hissed at me, and then released me, disappearing around a tomb. I could feel something trickle down my scalp on the back of my head, and the air around me was beginning to swirl.
Banton appeared around the corner of the tomb I was leaning against. “What happened?” he asked, grabbing my shoulder. I winced at the pain in my arm as he touched it. “Are you okay?”
“Banton, I saw another one,” I said when I found my voice.
“Another what?” he questioned, looking around.
“Another man like the one in the bathroom window– like the one in the voodoo shop. His eyes glowed.”
“What?” Which way did he go?”
I pointed to the right where the man had disappeared. Banton looked as if he wanted to follow him, but then looked back at me. I knew he would never leave me there alone to chase the man, and I was relieved.
“Did he touch you, Chandler? Are you hurt?”
“Yes,” My voice shook. I reached up behind my head to feel my scalp, and my hand came out from my hair, bloodied.
“Chandler!” He grabbed my hand and looked at it.
“It’s my head – he pushed me against the tomb, and I hit my head.”
He turned me by my shoulders, and gently touched my head, examining my wound. “I think we’d better get you to a hospital.”
I was too shocked to cry. I just let Banton drag me along with him back to the entrance of the cemetery. My brain was still trying to process what I saw…I wondered if I’d just imagined his eyes.
My SUV was parked just up the street, but Banton changed direction when he spotted a policeman to the right of the entrance.
“Officer, we need your help,” Banton called to him. My head was beginning to pound, and the blood was streaming down my neck and staining my pink sweater. When I noticed all the blood, my stomach sank, and my world began to swirl out of view. The pavement seemed to come up to meet me.
“Chandler!” Banton gasped as he grabbed me and picked me up.
After a few minutes, I slowly began to make sense of my surroundings. I could hear the muffled sound of sirens, and felt a swaying and bumping. I realized I was inside the ambulance.
Turning my head, Banton’s voice spoke softly in my ear “Hold still, Chandler. The paramedic is trying to get the blood flow stopped from the wound on your head. Where else are you hurt?”
“My ribs, I think. And my shoulder and right arm. He twisted it, but I don’t think it is broken.” I winced as the paramedic touched my right side.
I turned my head to look at Banton. He looked almost lost, like he wanted to touch me, but didn’t know where. He finally laid his hand against my cheek. “Are you in pain?” he asked softly.
“I’m okay, Banton. My head just throbs. I just wish they could turn that siren off, it hurts.”
“We’re almost there, just hang on,” the paramedic smiled at me. As if on cue, the siren stopped, and the ambulance came to a jolting stop in front of the emergency room.
After they had me wheeled into an examination room, I could hear Banton’s voice in the hallway, “You can let me in! No, I’m not family, but I’m all she has here. I am her ‘in case of emergency’ person!”
Then I heard the nice paramedic meet the nurse in the hallway. “Believe me, you need to let him in there with her.”
Banton came through the doorway, concern evident in his eyes. “Chandle
r, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. I was really careless.” He sat down in the chair beside the bed.
“Banton, don’t. How could you have possibly known that would happen? In broad daylight, with a tour group close by? Don’t be ridiculous.” I smiled at him and brushed my fingertips across the worry wrinkles between his brows.
“Do you want me to call your Aunt Sue?” Banton asked, taking my cell phone out of my purse.
“No, she’ll just freak out. I’ll call them later. They can’t do anything, anyway. No sense in worrying them,” I assured him.
Just then, a doctor came in the room. “Well, Miss Collins. I see you had quite an encounter with one of the notorious riff-raff here in the city.” He looked over the chart the paramedic had left and handed it to the nurse. “Let’s take a look at that head wound.” He turned my head toward Banton, and gently moved the bandage the paramedic had used to stop the bleeding. “We’ll need to take a couple of stitches.”
“You won’t have to shave any of my hair, will you?” I felt the moisture gather in my eyes.
“If we do, it won’t be much. And I promise you I’m really good. It won’t show.” The doctor continued, “And the paramedic said you have possible injuries to your ribs, and your right arm.” He pulled the sheet back and raised my sweater to probe my ribs. I winced as he touched them. “We’ll need to get some x-rays, and then we’ll see about getting you stitched up.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
As the nurse took my vitals, there was a voice at the door. “Miss Collins?”
“Yes,” I answered. A uniformed police officer stepped into the room.
“I’m Lieutenant Brown from the New Orleans police department. I’m sorry to bother you, Ma’am, but I need to make a report on your assault. It’s better if we can speak, while everything is fresh.”
Banton took my hand and gave it a quick squeeze as the policeman began to ask questions. I gave him the most accurate description I could, leaving out the part about the fangs and glowing eyes. He finished quickly and left the room as the nurse returned to wheel me to x-ray.
Banton leaned over and kissed me quickly. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
After the x-rays, the nurse took me back to another exam room as the doctor came in to stitch me up. He had me to roll on my side, and then deadened the area around my wound with anesthetic. I could feel the soft scrape of a small razor, and then the slight tugging at he stitched the wound closed. I closed my eyes tightly, willing myself not to get sick.
“All done.” The doctor patted my arm, and I rolled back over to look at him.
“Let me go take a look at your x-rays, and then we’ll see about getting you something for pain. Are you allergic to any meds?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
The nurse wheeled me back into the room with Banton.
“Are you okay?” he asked for the hundredth time in about an hour.
I smiled, and said, “I am now.”
The doctor came back in. “You have two cracked ribs, but nothing broken in your arm, just a bad sprain. I want you to take this pain medicine,” he paused, scribbling on his notepad, “every four to six hours. I think you have a slight concussion, but I will let you go home now if you promise to take it easy. You may experience some double or blurry vision, slight headaches, and nausea for a few days, but you should be all right. If any of these symptoms worsen, call the hospital or bring her back,” he addressed Banton directly. “I want you to follow up with your family doctor when you get back home, Miss Collins.”
“I will. Thank you,” I replied. Banton left the room to call for a cab, and the nurse wrapped my ribs with tight bandages, and taped it tightly to keep them from aching. “You can remove these bandages to bathe, but you might want to rewrap them for a few days. It’s not necessary, but it will help with the pain if you keep them tightly wrapped.”
Banton came back into the room, just as she was finishing up. “The cab is already here, are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” I looked at him gratefully, just ready to get back to our hotel.
Chapter Eighteen
Banton held me close to his side all the way to the hotel. Entering the lobby, I exclaimed, “I’ll scare everyone to death all bandaged up, and with all this blood on my sweater!”
“No one will notice anything except how beautiful you are.” He smiled at me.
He was so wrong. As we crossed to the staircase, several people stopped to gape at the huge bloodstain on my sweater. I just smiled weakly at them as Banton led me upstairs and into our suite. He sat me down on the sofa, and then turned and picked up the phone and called the front desk.
“Yes, this is Mr. Gastaneau in 301. I need the concierge service to have a prescription filled for me at a local pharmacy, as well as a roll of ace bandages and tape. I need laundry service to come and pick some things up – have them ready in the morning. We will also need a menu from the restaurant. Yes, thank you. Just charge it all to the card you have on file.”
He hung up the phone, and then turned to me. “Andie, I know you will want a shower, and with your arm and your ribs, you are going to need help washing that blood from your hair. Do you want me to help you, or do you want me to call Constance to come? I know you’ll feel better after you’ve cleaned up. I’m anxious to get you in bed so you can rest.”
“I – I think I can manage, if you can help me. Constance will freak out, and I think I need a little peace and quiet. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. How do you want to do this?” He asked, smiling at me.
“Well, first of all, help me get this bloody sweater off. Why don’t you just put me in the shower in my undies, and help me wash my hair. Then I can shut the shower door, and hand you my wet things to give to the laundry.”
“Sounds like a plan. Come on, let’s get you comfortable. He followed me into the bathroom, and after I sat on the large ottoman, he helped me off with the bloody sweater. I blushed when he pulled it free from my arms, but he never seemed to notice the bra – he just contemplated the bandages around my waist. “Can you manage your jeans?”
“Yes, I think so.” Then there was a knock at the door. Banton went to retrieve the script the doctor had written and give it to the concierge. I struggled with my jeans, but managed to slide them off, and then sit back down as Banton returned. He knelt in front of me while I removed the necklace and earrings and placed them on the bathroom vanity. Then he began to carefully remove the bandages from around my ribcage. I held my breath, he was so close to me. He must have read my thoughts, because he looked up at me and paused. “Chandler,” he said softly. He kissed me gently, and then pulled back. “Are you in pain? The pain medicine should be here in fifteen or twenty minutes. I can get you some Tylenol from my bag now if that will help.”
“I can wait for the medicine, I think the anesthetic is wearing off, though. My scalp is beginning to sting and pull from the stitches.”
He finished unwrapping the bandages, and gasped.
“Oh, Chandler…damn it, what I would do to that monster if I could get my hands around his neck! I can’t believe they went after you, when it’s me they want.”
“What are you talking about? Why would he have been after either one of us?” I asked, rising to look in the mirror. A dark black bruise was creeping down my ribcage where the attacker had jammed his body against mine. There were also bruises on my arm and shoulder. I looked back at Banton for an answer to my question, and his eyes burned like he was on fire as he watched me checking the bruises.
“There is a lot we have to talk about tonight, when you are settled and comfortable. But first, let’s get you in the shower.”
He opened the door to the shower and started the water running, testing the temperature. Grabbing several towels to have them ready, he then opened the shampoo before I stepped in. I let the water run over my scalp, and the water ran red down my body.
“My gosh, this looks like a
horror movie! I exclaimed. “I can’t believe there was that much blood in my hair.”
Banton poured the shampoo into my hair, and gently began to wash it through. Not bothering to even roll his sleeves up, he just stood in the shower door getting almost as wet as I was. When he moved down my scalp to the wound, he raised my hair gently, and cupped his hand to wash the wound. Then he finished rinsing my hair for me and asked, “Are you ready for me to leave?”
“Yes, it’s okay. I think I have this now.” As he started to shut the door, I reached to undo the hooks on my bra. Sharp pains shot through my shoulder and ribs, and I winced. I was trying not to let him know how much pain I was in, but I moaned.
He jerked the shower door back open, and said gently, “Ok, Chandler. Turn your back to me.” I complied, the tears began running down my cheeks. The dam broke on my emotions, the full weight of the attack dawning, my vulnerability…visions of the intruder with his face against the bathroom window came rushing back to me as I fell apart, feeling more violated than ever.
Banton gently unhooked my bra and dropped it to the shower floor. Then he slid my bikinis down around my ankles, and I stepped out of them. My shoulders shook with my sobs. He turned me to face him and took me in his arms, as the water from the shower covered us both.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhhh,” he said, in a soothing voice. “I’m sorry, I should have called Constance.” He took the body wash off the shelf, and squeezed a small amount on my shoulders, and took a wash rag and ran it gently over my shoulders and back. As I continued to sob into his shoulder, he squeezed the rag gently over me to rinse the soap. He shut the water off, and quickly wrapped a towel around me and lifted me from the shower into his arms. He grabbed another towel as I laid my head on his shoulder. Cradling me close to his body, he carried me to his enormous canopy bed. He already had the covers thrown back, and he placed me in the bed gently and covered me, towel and all. Sitting down slowly on the bed, he then put his arms around me.
Southern Comfort: Chandler's Story (The Southern Series Book 1) Page 18