Souls Estranged (The Souls Trilogy Book 2)

by Anne B. Cole

  A thunderous explosion rocked inside her head. Engulfing flames burned into her lungs. The sudden collapse of the ship into the deep water tore her heart.

  A ship?

  Tony’s race car had burned, not a ship. Fleeting thoughts scattered through her mind and fear seeped into her.

  A hand firmly gripped her arm.

  “Enzo!”

  “Gretta?” Tim’s concerned frown deepened. “Are you all right?”

  “He’s gone,” Gretta murmured. She swore she felt the blood drain from her sweaty face.

  The nurse hovered with a critical eye. “Sit over there. She’s not visiting my patient today.”

  Tim guided Gretta into a chair and a cup of water appeared in her hand. A young woman in paper scrubs tapped Tim on the shoulder.

  “Officer Daggett, Tony sent me out here to get you. Told me to drag you in if necessary.”

  “Hey, Bonnie.” Tim flashed one of Sam’s killer grins at her. At five-three and maybe a hundred pounds, she was half the size of Tim and the idea of her pulling him anywhere made them all laugh.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Gretta nodded, unable to understand her sudden anxiety.

  “I’ll be right back,” Tim said and entered Tony’s room.

  “Hi, I’m Bonnie and you must be Sam’s Gretta.” She opened a blanket and draped it around Gretta’s shoulders, tucking it underneath her chin. “Tony sent me out with this. We saw you nearly pass out.” The warm blanket radiated through Gretta. Bonnie took the chair next to her.

  “Thanks. How can he possibly think of others now?” Gretta shivered, trying to focus on Tony and not her unexplained terror.

  Bonnie sighed. “I don’t know. He’s doing much better. When they finally allowed visitors, his mom went in first. They made her leave after two minutes because she became hysterical and freaked out. The doctors appointed me as the family contact and sent her home. Tony told me he didn’t want any pity and if I couldn’t handle it, I should leave, too.” She wrung her hands in her lap before continuing. “We still don’t know if he will be able to keep his arm.”

  Gretta watched her shift in the chair to gaze at Tony’s door.

  “He knows I’ll kick his butt if he tries to push me away, and I’ll never leave him.” Two tears trickled over her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I promised him I wouldn’t cry.”

  Gretta wrapped her arm around Bonnie, supporting her within the warmth of the blanket.

  The nurse escorted Tim out of Tony’s room and approached them. “Bonnie, you can come back in.”

  “Tony says he can’t sleep without you,” Tim chuckled softly as the nurse rolled her eyes.

  Bonnie lifted her chin. When she stood, she disappeared into Tim’s embrace. “Thanks for coming. I can’t tell you how much it means to us.” She pulled back and pushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Within seconds, her tears had vanished.

  Tim took a card out of his pocket. “Call me if you need anything, anytime.” The cop voice returned.

  Gretta pulled a pen out of her bag and wrote her cell number on the back of the card. “We’ll be at the Ambulatory Care Center, right around the block. Text me.”

  Bonnie took the card and put it in the back pocket of her jean shorts. “Thanks. We should know more by the end of the day.” She focused her gaze on Tony’s door.

  Gretta hugged Bonnie and draped the blanket around her shoulders. Bonnie took a deep breath and reentered Tony’s room.

  Tim sighed, “We better get going.” Together they headed to the elevator doors. “Tony’s a lucky guy.”

  Gretta pressed the first floor button inside the elevator. They walked in silence back to the entrance. When he opened the door for her, she gazed at him. He appeared exhausted from working last night so he could have today off to be with Sam. Sadness crept back into her heart.

  “Do you believe in heaven?” she blurted as they began the short walk to Sam’s hospital.

  Tim hesitated and replied, “Yes, I do.”

  “Your wife is in a good place.” Gretta’s voice sounded smooth, confident and sincere to her own ears. “I don’t know about my dad. I’m scared for him.” She watched her sneakers step on a crack in the sidewalk. Extending her stride, she avoided the next one.

  “If we pray really hard, I think he’ll get there.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “I have some connections with the Big Guy upstairs. I’ll ask my angel to put a good word in for him.”

  Gretta had always believed good people would go to heaven. Since her father’s death, doubts about the afterlife haunted her.

  Back in the waiting area of Sam’s hospital, she found her tea next to the chair. She took a sip, the drink still warm.

  Tim walked back to her after speaking with the nurse. “Sam’s not out of surgery.” He took a seat beside her.

  A doctor came through the doors a half hour later. “Mr. Daggett?”

  Gretta watched Tim nod as the surgeon spoke quietly. After a few minutes, they shook hands and the doctor left.

  “Sam’s doing fine. He’s in recovery and will come out of the anesthesia soon. We’ll be able to see him when he wakes.” Tim reached into his pocket for his phone. Gretta sent a text to Bonnie and one to Tony from Sam’s phone.

  In less than a minute Sam’s phone beeped.

  ‘B is asleep. Stay with Sam. It means everything.’

  Dissolving into tears, she remembered last week when Sam never left her side. Her fingers flew across the keypad.

  ‘Give Bonnie a hug for me. Will visit soon. PS.’

  “Mr. Daggett? You may see your son,” a nurse announced. “He’s asking for Anya.”

  Tim stood and Gretta followed.

  “This way.” The nurse led them through double doors.

  Tim touched Gretta’s shoulder apologetically. “I’m sorry. Sam’s never been real good with names.”

  The nurse raised her brows in confusion. “Who’s Anya?”

  “I am,” Gretta replied without hesitation.

  Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. “Nicknames already?” he winked at her as they entered a recovery room.

  They approached Sam, who appeared unconscious. Gretta quickly took his hand.

  “Anya,” Sam murmured.

  “I’m here, Enzo,” Gretta whispered.

  Sam squeezed in recognition. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m so sorry.” Tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Gretta glanced at the nurse.

  “It’s common for people to be disoriented and cry after anesthesia. He’s doing fine.” She left to check on another patient.

  Gretta wiped Sam’s cheeks with her fingers. “I’m here, Sam.”

  “It’s my fault, Anya. Please don’t die.” Sam shifted restlessly.

  She gripped his fingers with one hand and touched his cheek with the other. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” An overwhelming grief suddenly consumed her. Sam became still, very still. Gretta dropped his lifeless hand and staggered away from the bed.

  “The letter said he died—”

  “Come here.” Tim guided her back to Sam’s side. “Look, he’s coming around. Sam?”

  Sam’s eyes flickered open and focused on Gretta. “What’s wrong?”

  She buried her face in her hands, ashamed of her stupid tears.

  Sam’s voice sounded frightened, “Pop? Is it Tony?”

  “No, son. Tony is better. It’s been a long morning for Gretta.” Tim emphasized her name and eased her into a chair. He stood behind her with his hand remaining on her shoulder.

  Sam reached for her hand. “Hey, beautiful.”

  Gretta blinked back tears as he rubbed her hand. “You okay?” Her voice cracked as her mind raced back in time.

  We were
on the ground, under the tree. Sam helped me stand up. We walked away from our lifeless bodies.

  “I’m good. Gretta, you’re not going back to Milos. I won’t let you go,” Sam murmured.

  Shivers ran through her as a memory clicked. She feigned a confused expression in Tim’s direction before squeezing Sam’s hand.

  “Don’t talk. Close your eyes and rest. I’m right here.”

  Sam obeyed and drifted back to sleep.

  A few minutes later a nurse entered to check on Sam.

  “Tim, I’ll be back. Ladies’ room,” Gretta murmured, and excused herself to find the rest room. Once inside, she looked at herself in the mirror. The bruise on her left cheek had faded to a strange shade of pea green. A knot remained a few inches above her left temple. She touched the stitches on the back of her head below her pony tail. Those were real. New images and feelings continued to pop inside her head.

  She turned the faucet on and splashed handfuls of cool water on her face. The ring on her finger caught the light, capturing her attention.

  The ring is bad. Very bad. But it was my grandmother’s, an heirloom, so how can it be bad?

  A woman with a small boy entered the restroom. Gretta watched them in the mirror.

  “Come in here, Carson. You can use the big boy potty.”

  Gretta watched the stall close behind them. The little boy was blonde. Blonde.

  Confusing thoughts and images swirled inside her head. She leaned against the wall and slid until she sat upon her heels.

  A knock on the door brought her back to reality. The woman and the boy were gone. She sat alone.

  “Gretta? You in there?” Tim’s voice boomed.

  She had no doubt he would enter the ladies’ room if she didn’t respond.

  “I’ll be right out.” She splashed more water on her face. Peeking in the mirror, she straightened her pony tail before walking out.

  “Sorry, I forgot how long women take in the restroom,” Tim admitted sheepishly. “Sam’s asking for you.”

  Gretta needed to be there for Sam despite her strange thoughts. As they walked into his room, she hesitated. Unease returned.

  This time she was afraid for Sam, feeling certain he remained in danger.

  Chapter 8

  Sticky Notes

  Gretta

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, paused, and faded.

  Gretta’s eyes opened to a dark but familiar room. The couch wasn’t where she remembered falling asleep. Sam had been released from the hospital the day before, and exhaustion pulled her back into the warmth of a soft fleece blanket.

  A light clicked in the distance, emitting a faded amber glow. Coffee. The nutty aroma enveloped around her.

  With Alec, I am safe.

  “Damn,” a deep voice sounded from the kitchen.

  Alec never curses.

  Confusion peaked within, jerking her from the haze of sleep. Gretta surveyed the shadowy room. She sat up, dropping bare feet to the cool wooden floor. Rubbing the side of her head near her left temple, she attempted to remember her last thought. Remnant feelings of love and safety gave way to emptiness.

  God, my head hurts.

  Over the past few days, she had blamed the pain on her inability to sleep. Today proved different. She had slept like a rock, felt rested, and needed to get up and talk to Sam.

  She took two steps before a bolt of pain rocketed behind her eyes and lodged into the back of her head. Stumbling into the kitchen, she found Tim on his hands and knees, mopping a trail of used coffee grounds across the white tile floor.

  “Sorry if I woke you.” He swiped a glob of grounds with one of the new dish towels.

  Wincing with each step, she shuffled to the counter and her medicine.

  Tim shook the soiled towel over the trash in an attempt to fling off the clingy grounds. Pursing his lips together, he threw the towel into the trash bin. “Best get rid of the evidence. Ruby will—hey, you all right?”

  “Yeah.” Gretta let out a frustrated sigh on her third attempt to remove the medicine’s childproof cap. Push and turn. Push, twist. Pry the darn thing off. Her head hurt so bad she wanted to chop it open with a butcher knife.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tim move closer. He loosened her white knuckled grip on the bottle. Large hands took a few moments to push and twist correctly. Success. Gretta closed her fingers around the pill he dropped in her palm. Before she could thank him, he filled a glass from the tap and guided her into a chair at the kitchen table.

  “I can get Shorty to cover for me,” he offered.

  Gretta washed down the medicine with the lukewarm water. Her head hurt too much to respond. She wanted him to stay, but the need to prove her strength pressed within.

  “Thanks, I’ll be okay. It’s bad when I first get up. After about an hour, I’m good.” She took a breath, hoping he believed her.

  Tim eyed the medicine.

  “I only took one yesterday.”

  He folded his arms and stared at her as if he was seriously considering calling the station to request another personal day.

  “I slept real good last night.” Gretta forced a smile, knowing the pain would diminish, unlike the dull ache in her heart.

  “Ruby warned me you two would end up in bed together. I didn’t think it would be Sam’s first night home.” His voice remained calm, non-judgmental, but fatherly nonetheless.

  Gretta felt flames tickle her cheeks. Yesterday afternoon they brought Sam home from the hospital. By the evening, his pain tolerance had weakened. After picking at a slice of Ruby’s chicken pot pie, she took Sam upstairs to bed and tucked him in while Tim dozed in front of a baseball game on the television.

  “Stay?” Sam had asked as she stepped to leave. Gretta returned to the side of his bed. “We need to talk. I want to know what you remember.”

  Not knowing what to say, silence fell between them. He didn’t push for a response. Gretta had watched his eyes close. His chest slowly rose and fell with each breath. When she thought he fell asleep, she’d tiptoed to the door.

  “Come here.” Sam tossed the light blanket back, making room for her.

  “Don’t tempt me.” Her heart had sped at the thought of being in his arms. She hoped he didn’t hear the catch in her voice.

  “Sorry. I’m not thinking straight.” He had smoothed the blanket back down.

  Embarrassed by her assumption, Gretta had shrugged. “I’m the one who’s not thinking straight. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, just come here, on top of the blanket.” Sam patted the bed next to him and inched a little to the left, giving her room.

  Gretta had slid beside him and propped her head with one hand. Her legs touched his, and her heart had beat wildly. Naughty hands automatically reached for his chest, but at the last second she’d diverted her fingers to his left hand.

  Sighing at her touch, his fingers circled hers.

  “Good night, Gretta.” Sam had snuggled her in a gentle embrace.

  She didn’t remember falling asleep or walking downstairs to the couch.

  Now Gretta looked at Tim, who studied her face as only a cop could do.

  “We had our clothes on.” A nervous cough followed her bold words. She poured a cup of coffee even though she didn’t plan to drink it.

  “You did. Sam, on the other hand—”

  “I know, half naked. I can hear Ruby now.” Gretta waved one hand in the air.

  Tim tilted his head, one brow raised.

  Gretta processed her own words. The bump on her head must have jarred her tact and cut off any shyness she used to be known for. The cup in her hands flew straight to her lips, and she took a huge swallow.

  Coffee. Ugh. This wasn’t normal coffee, the kind w
here she loved the aroma but despised the taste. No, this was the strongest, foulest liquid that ever crossed her lips. It was all she could do to keep it from coming back up. Her trembling fingers encircled the mug as she willed her stomach out of her throat, swallowing hard. Two tentative breaths later, she grew confident the moment had passed.

  Setting her mug on the table, she attempted to casually wipe sweat off her forehead.

  Tim reached for his phone.

  Gretta touched his arm. “You make horrible coffee.” She mustered a smile and the nausea faded.

  Trying her best to focus, she looked at Tim. He was in his uniform; short-sleeved standard navy blue with a white tee peeking at his neckline, matching blue pants with an ironed crease her grandmother would be proud of. His name tag, service revolver, holster, and radio remained on the counter behind him.

  Uniform.

  Drawn to the uniform, she remembered the same feeling at the racetrack when she watched the naval guard during the playing of ‘The Star Spangled Banner.’

  She felt Tim’s intense stare. He cared about her, but in what capacity? Was it his policeman’s duty or gratefulness she was caring for his son? Her father had looked at her with the same concern. Intense guilt and sadness gripped her chest.

  She picked up a pad of sticky notes and a pen off the counter and handed them to him. “Go. Please. You’re only a phone call away. With lights and sirens you could be here in no time.”

  Tim reluctantly took the note pad. “Minutes.” He began jotting numbers as he muttered, “Stubborn women.” Clicking the pen, he stood and gulped the rest of his coffee.