Kendrick (Torey Hope: The Later Years #4)

by A. D. Ellis

  “Before you’re completely awake they want to set your arm and leg. You’re lucky you don’t need any pins or surgeries. They already relocated your shoulder, I’m so glad you were completely out for that part. It’s strange to me, but the nurse said the whiplash and dislocated shoulder will be the longest and most painful part of your recovery. The lung, spleen, and broken bones should heal much faster. At least according to the nurse.”

  He wanted her to keep talking, but she laid her head down on the bed and yawned. The poor girl was exhausted. Selfishly he wanted her to stay by his side, but he also wished someone would have forced her to go home to sleep. Sleeping in the hospital at his bedside couldn’t be all that great for her or the baby.

  **********

  He woke again when she roused from her own sleep. He tried to grip her hand, but he felt as weak as a kitten. She must have felt a little something, because she squeezed his hand and spoke, “It’s okay, I just need to go pee. I’ll be right back.”

  When she returned, he felt her straighten his blankets, adjust his pillow, and stroke a hand along his face.

  “Can you hear me? I wish you’d open those damn sexy eyes of yours and say something crazy, but I know you need your rest. If I wasn’t so afraid of hurting you, I’d crawl in this bed and cuddle beside you, but I’ll let you rest comfortably.”

  He felt her perch herself at his bedside again.

  He wasn’t sure if he slept, or if she was just quiet for a very long time, but she eventually picked up his hand, bringing it to her lips.

  “It’s Jaymison. Jaymison Marie Keller. I’d give anything for you to be awake right now so I could tell you my full name.” Her whisper choked on tears.

  Jaymison. A beautiful name, for his beautiful girl.

  “Kendrick, I was so scared. Yeah, I’m terrified of the future, having this baby, being a mom. But I was just getting used to the idea of doing it all with you, and to think you’d been ripped away from me, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

  He knew that admission took a lot on her part.

  “Can you hear me at all? I feel like you’re trying to wake up, you seem more alert under those eyelids tonight than the last couple days, and your hand is twitching more.” She squeezed his hand. “So, because I want to give you something to wake up for, how about we make a deal?”

  He tried to squeeze her hand, tried to flutter his eyes open, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded in either attempt.

  “I’ll take your silence as agreement.” Wry laughter laced her exhausted voice.

  “How about I tell you about my past if you agree to wake up and start your road to healing as soon as tomorrow? Deal?” She sighed with a shuddering sob. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

  And with that, his sweet Pixie launched into a story sure to break even the stoutest of hearts.

  **********

  “I was born in California. My parents were Jimmy and Marla. They were likely nice people, but they sucked as parents. I remember watching the family across the street all the time when I was seven or eight. The two perfect kids played in the yard with their perfect little dog. The mom brought out snacks, the dad washed their already pristine car, then he sat on the porch reading the newspaper with a proud look on his face and a loving smile for the mom. It was like the fucking Cleavers lived in that house. It was a stark contrast to my life. My mom would be out partying it up, or doing drugs at the house until all hours, then she’d sleep until 3:00 or 4:00 p.m. only to wake and do it all over again. My dad would spend most of the day in the basement practicing his music. He’d come up, curse at my mom, chuck me on the shoulder, and leave for the night. He played guitar and sang in local bars. He was actually pretty good. I’d usually heat up leftover pizza or Chinese and spend the rest of the night in my room, trying to block out the sounds of my mom getting high or trying not to be scared of the sounds in an empty house.”

  She stopped. His heart squeezed. He had a feeling it was going to get worse before she reached the end.

  “My mom died when I was eight, almost nine. My dad always said it was a heart attack, and it likely was, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized it was probably a weak heart due to all the drug use.” She sniffed and laid her head gently on his hip. Even if it had been painful, he would have welcomed the pain if it meant comforting her in some way.

  “I think a paramedic who came to the house when my mom died must have filed a report about me. With the drugs around, my age, just the general appearance of the house, he probably had no choice. But that landed me in foster care for several months. I’m really surprised Jimmy fought to get me back. Foster care was both good and bad. It was good because I was away from the drugs, I was never alone, and my case worker checked in on me often. It was bad for so many other reasons. I went through three foster homes in those months away from my dad. None of them were the dream foster parents you hear about in those feel-good movies on television. They were all just in it for the check. Luckily I already knew how to fend for myself with meals because there were no happy family meals going on. One of the foster moms actually did do my laundry which was really nice. I was going on ten towards the end of my time in the foster homes. None of the other kids paid much attention to me. No one was mean, they just ignored me. At the time, I felt sad that no one wanted me as a friend. Looking back, I realized they had their own shit going on. Some of the foster moms homeschooled us, but I went to school when I was with other ones. It was a different school than when I’d lived with Mom and Dad. I basically was in and out of four different schools in less than a year. No one had the time or took the time to get to know me well enough to know if things were okay with me.”

  Jay stopped talking again. She stood and walked to the bathroom. He smiled in his mind, the tea must have gone right through her. When she returned, she switched to the other side of the bed, taking up his hand in hers again.

  “The last home was the worst. There were a couple older boys, about sixteen or seventeen. They were total creepers, but the foster dad was even worse. I saw them watch the other girls. They seemed to like their long hair, the start of curves and breasts. I purposely whacked my hair off, slopped some black on chunks of it, and thanked my lucky stars my chest was flat as a board. I knew those boys were hurting the girls, and I knew the dad was too. By the time Jimmy proved he could take care of me, I was so scared they’d come to me during the night I was barely sleeping. When my case worker picked me up to take me back to my dad, I told her what I was seeing happen. I’ve always hoped it was enough to get those girls away from that hell hole.”

  She reached for the remains of her tea. It had to be just barely warm now.

  “So Jimmy and I moved to Indiana. He had a friend there who offered us the basement to live in. My life didn’t get better, but it didn’t really get any worse. I wasn’t abused, I wasn’t starved, I was just ignored. During summers he would take me to the local bars with him, he called it our bonding time. He’d convince the owners to let me hang out in the back with a book. He’d toss them a few dollars to feed me a cheeseburger and fries. It wasn’t ideal, but I blocked most of it out. There was one really nice lady who owned one of the bars. She had a comfy office where she spent most of her time; I learned to love tea because of her. She would brew us a nice hot cup of tea every single time I was there.”

  “School was nice because I got free meals; we lived in an area of high poverty so every student in the building qualified for free breakfast and lunch. My dad had to make sure I was in school or he would have been in trouble. So he would leave at night, leaving me alone with a microwave meal and the tv. I loved school, so I’d work hard on my homework and read books cover-to-cover each night. I got myself up for school, got to the bus stop, and spent the day reveling in any attention school staff could give me. I was quiet, never caused any trouble. I didn’t make friends easily; I think I was too conditioned to think it wouldn’t last after all the moving from foster home to foster home.”

&
nbsp; “As I got older, I started to worry more about my appearance. Dad would leave me a bit of money here and there. I’d take the city bus to the local thrift store and stock up my wardrobe. I learned how to cut, style, color my own hair. When I started high school I started acting out a bit. I was pissed. I didn’t have a mom, my dad was as good as dead. Jimmy was really good at his music, but he drank away any profits and slept his way through every bar fly in Indiana. I kept my grades up because I’d heard about a trip to Paris for the top percentage of students. I had no plans on college, but I wanted to go to Paris so badly I could taste it. But in addition to keeping my grades up, I became pretty kinky with the boys. No one ever believed it because I was so quiet, and I didn’t let any rumors get to me, but I was definitely a sure thing most Friday and Saturday nights. I never touched drugs, and didn’t drink much because of what I watched my parents go through. By the age of sixteen, I was the perfect little student during the week, and a wild child on the weekend. But it was fun, and I thought I deserved some fun.”

  By this point, Kendrick’s injuries were starting to scream, but he blocked the pain out, determined to hear her story through to the end.

  “Then my dad died, and the foster care nightmare started all over again. I was in three homes during that time. Again, not the dream foster home where the mom and dad just want to share their love with unfortunate kids. But these were somewhat clean, didn’t have tons of kids, and were all in an area where I could at least stay at my high school. I got to travel to Paris the summer before my senior year. It was the best time of my life. The food, the architecture, the people, the history, it was all so beautiful. I took it all in. For the first time, I was on my own, but it was by choice, not by necessity. No one was forcing me to be self-sufficient, I was doing it because I enjoyed it. When I returned to the States, I vowed I’d graduate high school and figure out how to live on my own as soon as I was eighteen. But the state found my grandmother, Rebecca, first. She was living in Illinois. I had no choice; she was next of kin and willing to take me in, so I moved to Illinois.”

  “I had never met this woman before, but I was immediately pissed at my parents for never allowing me to know her. She was amazing. She showed me love for the first time in my life. I think she knew I’d been ignored and neglected, so she pampered me and spent every waking moment with me. We had tea every day. She taught me to cook and bake. I didn’t love it, I wasn’t great at it, but she said it was a skill I needed to learn. The best thing she taught me to make was snickerdoodle cookies.”

  “I was settling in, feeling like maybe I could lead a normal life. My grandma had shown me that love existed, good people were out there, and I didn’t have to distrust everyone. But then she died. She was old, but not super old. I know it is irrational, but all I could think was that she left me too. Everyone in my life who was supposed to love me or care for me or support me had left me. I was truly on my own again. After she died, I had to move away from that little town. She had only rented her little apartment, she had nothing much to leave to me. I took her recipes, some sweaters, a picture of the two of us, some of her books, and a suitcase. I jumped on a bus and stopped in Torey Hope for the night. The Café was open so I walked in for dinner, saw the Help Wanted sign, and never looked back.”

  She laughed with no humor.

  “So there you have it, the whole sordid tale. Raised poor, no one to love me, everyone leaves me, no real future. And that my dear Kendrick is why I’m scared shitless to have this baby and attempt living my life with you. Nothing has ever worked out for me in the past, what’s to say it will now?”

  What’s to say it won’t, Pixie?

  Damn, he wished he could wake up enough to talk to her.

  “But as much as I want to keep up the wall, fight against it all, I can’t help but feel pulled in by you, your family, and the thought of us having this tiny baby to love. In the beginning, I was convinced I didn’t know how to love a child because I was never shown love. But, the longer I’m around you and your family, the more I realize that I maybe, just maybe, can show this baby love because I know what it’s like to live without it, and I’d never do that to any child, let alone my own. I feel doubtful every day that you think you can love a child who likely isn’t your own, but then I see your own mom and how much she loves Beckett. She’s not his biological mom, but she loves him as much as she loves you. Your grandma Janie may not be the biological grandma to any of you, but she loves you fiercely, so maybe you really can love this baby even if she’s not yours.”

  “Now, I need to pee again and get some sleep. Don’t forget we had a deal. Tomorrow you start waking up and we get you on the road to healing. If you’re good, I’ll even see if they’ll bring you a big glass of milk.” She leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Please get better soon, Kendrick. I need you more than I ever planned to need anyone ever again.”

  Her words were barely a whisper, hard to hear over the roar of pain in coursing through his body, but he clung to them valiantly before the blackness overtook him again.

  Chapter 13

  As he was wheeled back into his room, he became aware of the heaviness encasing his left arm and right leg.

  “Jaymison.” He thought he spoke aloud, but he couldn’t be sure. “Jaymison.”

  An unfamiliar voice spoke near him as a hand patted his good arm. “You looking for that pretty little girl who has been camped out here? I’ll go get her for you, sugar.”

  Several moments later he felt the door to his room open. Forcing his eyes open, he blinked through the scratchiness and tried to focus.

  “Well, she didn’t answer to Jaymison, but she’s the one who’s been by your side the whole time. I hope this is who you’re asking for.”

  He saw the nurse bustle from the room and Jay make her way to the bedside.

  “So, I tell you my real name in a moment of desperation and you sell me out to the first ear who will listen?” She tried to sound pissed, but he knew she was just happy to have him awake.

  “It’s a beautiful name.” His voice was gravelly, it made talking harder than he expected.

  “Here, take a drink.” She put a straw to his lips while brushing a hand over his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

  Clearing his throat the best he could, he scanned his mind down his body.

  “Like I’ve been run over. Seems like everything hurts. Did they just put these casts on?” He indicated his arm and leg.

  “Yes, you started to wake a little, so they took you down to get the casts on before you were completely awake. You’re lucky the casts are just up to your elbow and knee. And since they are on your left arm and right leg you can use a crutch instead of a wheelchair; that should make things a lot easier once you’re back at work.” She pulled a chair up and sat beside his bed, holding his hand.

  “Your family is on their way. I promised I’d call as soon as you woke up.”

  He watched her, saw the fatigue in her eyes.

  “Climb up here and lay with me?” He patted the mattress on his right side.

  “I may hurt you.” Her eyes were huge with concern.

  “Pixie, it hurts more not having you close to me. Just come rest with me for a bit. We can sleep until everyone gets here. Then I want you to sleep at home tonight.” He held a hand out to her.

  “Okay, but use that button over there to push some pain meds before I climb up there. You can push it every fifteen minutes I think.” She indicated the red button to his left.

  He pressed the button and almost immediately felt a rush through his body. The pain wasn’t gone completely, but it took the edge off.

  “Thanks, that’s helpful. Now climb up here.” He shifted slightly, allowing her room to cuddle up beside him.

  Cradling her in his good arm, he kissed her head. “Ahh, this is the best medicine I can get. Any idea when I can bust free of this place? And how about a shower?”

  “The doctor wants you up and moving around first. And you have to be off al
l IV medications. Oh, and you have to eat a certain amount of food and start in on some physical therapy. Probably a day to three days. Then you’ll be off work for at least a week, but more like two weeks.” She cuddled closer. “No showers until the cast is completely set. It’s waterproof, but you’ll still have to cover it in the shower; we’ll have to figure out a system at home. Until then, it’s sponge baths.”

  “Mmm, I think a sponge bath is in order.” He kissed her again. “As soon as we sleep.”

  She giggled, “And as soon as you brush your teeth.”

  Feigning offense, he pulled her closer. They immediately drifted into a comfortable sleep.

  **********

  “Even a car wreck can’t stop his mojo.”

  “Damn, got the girl into his bed even with a head injury.”

  “I’m thinking those casts are going to put a major crimp in his sexcapades.”

  Kendrick came awake slowly as the voices drifted around him.

  Without opening his eyes, he knew his cousins were in the room. Slowly he extended the middle finger of both hands in response to their words.

  “Ah, good to see the bump to the head didn’t mess him up too badly.”

  Jay shifted and awoke slowly. He glanced at her, loving the blush coloring her cheeks.

  “Hey, Pixie, do me a favor and go home. Take a shower, eat, sleep until morning. You can come back tomorrow. It will make me feel better knowing you’re comfortable at home instead of trying to sleep in a chair here. Please?” He tacked on the please for good measure when he saw she was starting to protest.