The Art of Rivers

by Janet W. Ferguson

  Outside, the moon struggled to glow through a thin veil of clouds. Still pondering, she made her way down the porch steps and along the sidewalk, back toward the gallery.

  In the darkness, she shivered, but not from the chill. Someone was here. Her heart kicked up a notch. A shadowy figure approached from behind an oak, a slow and unsteady march.

  Every fiber of her being froze. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her mind buzzed and fogged. She was in Memphis again. The blood. The searing pain.

  The hulking form stepped into the pale light spilling from the windows.

  Heart thudding, Rivers blinked to clear her head.

  A man...carrying a woman.

  “Need help,” he murmured.

  He clumsily plodded closer. “Hurt,” he slurred.

  No gun pointed at her. She was in St. Simons, not Memphis.

  Someone was hurt.

  They needed help.

  Reeling herself back to the present, she forced air into her rigid chest and took slow steps closer. Close enough to touch the young woman, a pretty girl in her twenties, light brown hair falling across her face. The girl’s skin was cold and clammy. Was she breathing at all?

  “What’s happened?”

  “Needs help.”

  Clearly the man was too far out of it to give a good answer. “What’s her name?”

  “Star Youngblood.”

  Rivers patted the girl’s face. “Star, can you hear me?” Was she alive?

  The guy staggered. A ring of dried saliva circled his lips. His eyes alternated between closing and bugging open wide. They looked unseeing though, unable to focus. Had this man hurt her?

  “You have to come inside Re-Claimed.”

  His eyes blinked and then stared forward.

  “Come inside now.”

  She nudged him toward the house. If she ran ahead to get Cooper, would the man follow, or would he leave? She could run faster than he could, and the woman needed help. Rivers took off and hoped the man wouldn’t disappear. She jogged down the sidewalk and flung open the door.

  “Cooper!” She sprinted into the dining room and slid to a stop. All eyes turned to her.

  “Cooper, help!” she screamed. “There’s a man out here. Hurry.”

  Cooper jumped up so fast his chair clattered over. He was at her side, his hand slipped in the crook of her arm. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  “I’m fine.” She pointed out the door. “They need help.”

  The man stepped under the porch light. “Something happened. Needs help.”

  That’s when she noticed the blood.

  Chapter 9

  “COME THIS WAY. LAY her down on the couch.” Despite his racing heart, Cooper fought to keep his tone calm as he steered the couple toward the living room. The girl didn’t look good. “Kevin, call 911. Gabriella, can you make sure Rivers is okay?” He glanced over his shoulder at Rivers once more. Her complexion had drained to the color of cold ashes.

  Blake had finally come back, but not the way Cooper had hoped. Blood dripped from the woman who he assumed to be Star. She was young and pretty, the way Blake had described, but apparently taking care of her hadn’t gone well. Kind of hard to take care of someone else when he couldn’t take care of himself.

  They reached the couch, and Blake gently laid his girlfriend there.

  “Is this Star? What happened to her?” Cooper knelt at the woman’s side.

  “I found her like that behind the bar.” Voice quivering, Blake bent over, hands on his knees. “It’s my fault. She was looking for me.”

  St. Simons usually didn’t have this kind of violence, but maybe a dealer from over in Brunswick had brought Blake’s drugs. Something went bad.

  Blood oozed and formed a dark stain on Star’s ripped shirt. “Star, can you hear me?”

  No answer.

  Footsteps joined them, and Cooper turned to find Gabriella with Rivers close behind.

  “I’ll do what I can until the ambulance arrives.” Gabriella nudged his shoulder. “Get me some clean towels and the first aid kit, Coop.”

  “Got it,” Kevin called from the doorway, where the other residents huddled, faces and eyes straining to get a glimpse of the drama.

  Gabriella bent over the girl and carefully rolled back the bottom of her shirt to reveal the injury. A small tear in the skin just below the ribcage was all they could see, but blood trickled from the gash. This wasn’t the first time Cooper had thanked the Lord that Gabriella was a nurse.

  “I’m hoping that’s not too deep. We’ll need sterile non-stick gauze until the medics arrive.” She looked Star over finding bruises and scrapes. “Appears she was in a fight, but the other injuries aren’t bad.” Her attention turned to Blake. “Are you hurt?”

  Looking down at his feet, Blake shook his head.

  “What’s she on?” Cooper asked. That would definitely make a difference on how medical staff could treat her.

  Blake’s eyes shifted back and forth as if he were debating whether to tell. Or maybe trying to remember.

  Cooper stood and tried to connect his gaze with Blake’s. “I know you care about her, and we want to help her. We need to know what she was using.”

  “Xanax, weed, alcohol.” His head tilted as he slurred out the words. “That’s usually it. Can’t be sure.”

  No, they couldn’t be sure. Cooper nodded. He knew from personal experience, there were points when some addicts could become garbage disposals, pretty much taking whatever they could find.

  Star groaned, and Rivers knelt near her head. “Help is coming,” she whispered. “Just hang on.” She caressed Star’s forehead and cheek while Gabriella attempted to clean the area around the wound. “We’re going to take care of you.”

  A lump formed in Cooper’s throat. Rivers was obviously a natural caregiver, despite her own trauma.

  Red lights flashed through the side window, and a moment later, they all stepped back to let the emergency personnel do their work.

  Cooper made his way to Rivers. “Are you okay? That had to be scary finding them out there, and sometimes one trauma reopens old—”

  “I’m fine.” Avoiding his gaze, she looked anything but fine. She ran her fingers through her short blond hair until it almost stood straight up, and she craned her neck to see what was going on with the girl.

  After checking vitals and airways, the emergency workers laid Star on a gurney and strapped her in place. Gabriella told them what she knew, which wasn’t much. Kevin stood with his hand on Blake’s shoulder speaking in low tones, hopefully convincing him to stay here and check in.

  The gurney clicked as they raised it, and Rivers approached one of the EMTs. “I want to go with her.”

  “You’ll have to follow us.”

  Nodding, Rivers trailed behind them, keys in hand.

  Cooper caught her arm. “Let me drive you. The hospital’s not far, but they’ll take her off the island, and it’s dark out.” And her navigational skills seemed questionable under normal circumstances.

  She paused, considered his offer, and then nodded. “Let’s go.”

  This woman had more gumption than he’d given her credit for. With all she’d been through, he’d expected her to fall apart.

  ANY MINUTE, SHE’D PROBABLY fall apart. Rivers rubbed her palms up and down on the legs of her jeans, adrenaline still coursing through her body. She took deep breaths in through her nose and slowly expelled them through her lips.

  Ahead of Cooper’s Jeep, the ambulance’s red light bounced off the low-lying fog that was blurring their view of the road. Thank God he’d offered to drive. It was black outside, and they’d crossed several bridges with the murky mist making visibility rotten. If she’d lost the ambulance at a red light, Cruella-GPS would likely have sent the Stink Bug into a swamp.

  And she’d never admit it to Cooper, but seeing the blood streaming from Star had reopened a vision of her own nightmare. But she’d been living with it every day since the shooting.r />
  “It’s nice of you to do this, but you don’t have to.” Cooper kept his eyes focused on the road.

  “She doesn’t have anyone else that we know of. That Blake guy can’t do it.” Though he couldn’t see her, she shrugged as if he could. “I don’t know. She almost looked like a child lying there. I have a heart for children dealing with trauma.” At least she had in the past.

  “I bet you’re an amazing therapist with kids.” He blew out a long sigh. “When she wakes up, you may not find her to be so...childlike.”

  “Yeah.” She scoffed. “She’s going to be hurting and in withdrawal. Not a great combo.” Memories of her mother’s early recovery surfaced. The anger and confusion that followed a traumatic brain injury left no emotion untouched. Her mother’s nightmares woke Rivers and her dad off and on for years.

  “You’ve worked with addicts?”

  “Just my mother.”

  “Oh.”

  “She’s not anymore.” She bit her lip and debated how much to spill. What did it matter? She didn’t have to worry about impressing anyone here. “After her car accident and traumatic brain injury, she couldn’t drink. Couldn’t even remember that she used to binge.”

  “Rivers, I’m sorry.” They reached a stop light, and his gaze found her. “You’ve been through too much.”

  Her abs tightened. She hadn’t asked for his pity. “Her situation kept me from ever drinking or taking other substances.”

  “Something else you and Jordan had in common.”

  An ache spiked in her chest. That had been one of their many commonalities. That and their faith. Their desire to wait until marriage. Their love for the arts.

  She’d known the only reason her parents had married was because of their unplanned pregnancy with her. The two were polar opposites. Her mother had been an all-business, high-dollar architect by day, a drunk by night. Her father was the inner-city school teacher who championed the rights of the downtrodden and cared nothing about money. They couldn’t have been more different. A few dates when they were in their mid-twenties had created Rivers.

  No. She knew God had created her. He’d given her a purpose and a heart for children, like her father. And she’d never once seen her dad drink. He took responsibility for everything in their little family. He’d recommitted to his faith and had been her pillar of strength.

  “Rivers?” Cooper’s gentle voice wound around her memories. “I asked, what are you thinking?”

  Oh. “I was thinking how great my dad is. He’s had more than his share to deal with.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “He took me to a million dance practices, came to every recital with a bouquet of roses, never missed an opportunity for us to participate at church. While Mom spent late hours at the office.” She made air quotes around the last word.

  “So she wasn’t really at the office?”

  “Maybe, but not alone. The night of her car accident, another man from her firm was in the car with her.”

  “That’s a harsh blow.” Cooper flipped on the blinker and slowed to turn into the parking lot. Once he found an empty spot, he slipped the Jeep in and shifted the gear to park. He reached out, his hand hovering over hers, hesitant, then he covered her fingers. “But your father was there for you?”

  His touch both soothed and electrified her. What madness was this?

  She closeted that question for later. “Always. Well, until the accident.” The disappointment of the past coiled around her chest like an old fishing line caught on hidden debris. It pulled tight and squeezed, reminding her why she’d sheltered her heart so often. She’d buried her emotions, but they seemed to always slip into her art. “We both had to take care of Mom. She had to relearn how to do everything. Speaking, walking...the bathroom. She became the child.”

  “And you became the adult.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Do you have any good memories with her?”

  Typical counselor move. Try to incite the positive. “Of course.” She chuckled. “She was funny, beautiful, loved to sing and dance.” She felt her lips lift into a smile. “A lot of nights we danced to eighties tunes for hours. Still do, but we have to be careful. She gets dizzy. One side of her body is weaker than the other.” Rivers raised one finger. “Oh, she loved art too. Like me.”

  A light flickered outside, reminding her why she came. “I need to go see where they have Star.”

  “I’ll stay too.” Cooper’s gaze roamed her face, unnerving her.

  “You have a job, people who need you.” She managed a smirk. “And my gallery to tend.” Maybe that would get him to leave.

  “Okay, bossy boss.” A smile colored his voice. “I’ll just stay until we find out how serious it is. One of us will come get you later.”

  “But—”

  “The others will want a report.” He released her hand, opened the door, and stepped out of the vehicle.

  It seemed she wasn’t getting rid of James Cooper Knight any time soon.

  Chapter 10

  NO MORE EXCUSES FOR Rivers to stay away from Cooper in the waiting room. She’d gone into the hall, called home, and spoken to both of her parents. Her father had promised they were fine. Then she’d checked in with the substitute taking care of her clients in therapy and waded through her email. She’d even texted Jordan’s mom. Brooklyn was still suffering, but of course, it was no wonder. She had lost both of her children way too soon. That kind of loss had to seem like a sea of grief too wide to cross.

  How did a woman anchor her faith when faced with so much pain? Rivers swallowed back tears. Before she’d lost Jordan, she’d thought she had the answers. Now she struggled to feel safe in her own skin and cling to a scrap of faith.

  Brooklyn’s twin sister, Pearl, had come to stay with her after Jordan’s loss. It was so strange to think of Pearl as Cooper’s mother, to think of Mr. Knight as Cooper’s father. From the way the family had spoken of Cooper—Jay—one would think he was some sort of hoodlum. Hardly the man she’d spent the past couple of days around.

  An elderly woman scraped by using an old walker for balance. The lady needed some tennis balls on the front legs so the contraption would move more smoothly. Rivers tisked. If she were in Memphis, she would find a way to get some.

  But she was here.

  Rivers forced her feet back toward the waiting area. At the door, she waved her hand below the sanitizer station. The cool foam squirted onto her palm, and she rubbed her hands together. A habit from when her mother had been in and out of the hospital for multiple surgeries.

  A young couple milled about at the snack machines just inside the entrance, trying to choose between the unhealthy selections.

  Her gaze fell to Cooper across the room. He was bent forward, elbows on knees, chin propped in his palms. His dark hair hung down and shadowed his brows. With his eyes closed, his lashes touched the olive skin below.

  Her breath hitched. He was a beautiful creation.

  A current of emotion rolled through her, and a picture formed in her mind. If only she had canvas, oils, and brush that would work together to capture this moment.

  Crazy thoughts.

  What had it been like for Cooper growing up? A late bloomer, while Jordan shone so brightly. That light probably both blinded Cooper and overshadowed everything he’d tried to do. He seemed to be a tender soul who’d ended up caught in the murky waters of life in a fallen world.

  More crazy thoughts.

  She blinked them away and slipped into the seat beside him.

  Though she’d tried to be quiet, he shifted and opened his eyes. “Everything okay? You were gone a while.”

  “Just checked in with my family and my substitute at the clinic.”

  “Your substitute?” His voice was the usual low, gentle tone.

  “My friend has been filling in.” Getting much more than she’d bargained for. “She’s agreed to stay one more month while I handle the properties here.” It had seemed another thirty days would be more than she
needed when the trip was planned. But now...

  “Right. You intend to clean out and sell the properties.” The corners of his lips turned down. The plan that would crush his current setup. “Someone’s taking your place at work for a month?”

  “Actually over a year. My friend agreed to help until I could get myself together enough to counsel the kids. She had no idea she’d still be doing it. So I have to decide whether I’ll go back to work as an art therapist or if they should hire someone else permanently.”

  “What have you been doing since the...incident?”

  Was she really ready to share so intimately with him? She stared at the bland poster framed on the far wall. “I stayed at home in bed for a good while. Dealt with paperwork that is demanded when someone dies.” Bitterness coated her tongue, and that dense layer of gloomy fog lay heavy over her faith once again. Death seemed so final, despite what she’d always believed. A crimson void of emptiness where once her beloved had been so vibrant and alive.

  “I’m sorry.” His hand wrapped around hers, warming her chilly fingers. And maybe her heart for a brief moment.

  “Eventually, I worked some. I led tours, did paperwork, checked people in at the front desk of the museum.” She caught her lip between her teeth for a moment. “I just couldn’t counsel others while my own emotional state was such a mess and my faith so wobbly. I couldn’t paint in our church’s worship gatherings anymore either. My heart seemed like it had become a swirling mass of black.”

  “How is your faith now?” The pad of his thumb made light circles on her knuckles, sending mini ripples straight to that achy place in her chest.

  “I picture my faith floating over a deep abyss, barely hanging on by a golden strand. I mean, I believe in God, but I never saw something like that coming.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I thought my mom’s accident was our cross to bear.” She should stop talking, but somehow the truth wanted to spill out. “I don’t know how much more God expects me to take. My heart feels absent, like I’m a deserted shell.”