What She Wanted

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  I had a feeling everything was negotiable in this place, as long as there was money involved. “No.” I stepped back and bumped into the door. “I work. I’m a photographer.” I moved a protective palm over the camera bag at my hip.

  He counted the money, satisfied, and no longer interested in me. “All right.”

  A faint stir of sirens stood the hairs on my neck at attention. It was as if they were coming for me, steadily growing in decibel as the meaty man before me weighed my fate.

  “So, you’ll hold the apartment for me?” I’d carried the completed lease agreement in my bag for weeks. All I needed was a birthday. “I’ll have the signed lease, the rest of your deposit, and the first month’s rent for you in ten days. Promise me you’ll hold it until then.”

  “There ain’t no guarantees in life, sugar, but you’ve got ten days.” He shoved my money into his apron pocket and marked an X on the calendar behind the bar. I waited, but he didn’t look my way again. Apparently, I was dismissed.

  I opened the door feeling gross and slightly violated. The rain had stopped and the horizon burned with flames from an enormous setting sun. My heart pumped with misplaced adrenaline and gratitude I’d made it outside without incident.

  Emergency vehicles raged past me and shrank, screaming into the distance. I pressed a hand to my chest and cursed.

  A beat-up old pickup truck honked fifty times and sped across the street in the wrong direction. It stopped along the curb ahead of me and the door popped open.

  Dean jumped onto the sidewalk. “Come on, Katy. Get in. We’ve got to go.”

  What kind of day was this?

  I slowed, weighing possible reasons for his behavior. Hidden cameras came to mind.

  “Come on. Let’s go.” He ran around and opened the passenger door. “Something happened to your grandad. My mom’s there now, but you’ve got to hurry or the ambulance will take off without you.”

  Ambulance. I scanned the direction where the emergency vehicles had gone moments before. I lived in that direction.

  He grabbed my hand and towed me toward his truck.

  His words were all wrong. Mark was in his shed, avoiding me, like every night. He was fifty-five. That was young for an old guy. He was fine. I saw him after work. Two hours ago. “I don’t understand.”

  Dean nearly shoved me onto the bench seat of his pickup and slammed the door behind me.

  “Was there a fire?” I’d definitely seen a firetruck.

  He gunned the truck to life and barked oversize tires against the pavement.

  “Put your seat belt on. I’m not trying to win a driver’s safety badge right now.”

  I obeyed woodenly. I’d just been at home. Hadn’t I? “I don’t understand.” I’d already said that, but nothing else came to mind and he hadn’t answered me about the fire.

  “Mom’s with him now. She said he was arguing with some guy and had a heart attack or something.”

  A heart attack.

  Tears blurred my vision. Heart attacks were deadly, right? I swallowed ice cubes of pure dread. “What guy?”

  Dean took the corner onto my street at twice the speed limit. “I don’t know. Joshua something.”

  I wrapped shaking arms around my frozen core. Joshua was my father’s name.

  Chapter 3

  Carousels of red and blue lights streaked across our darkened front door. Emergency personnel traipsed through our lawn in no particular hurry. Maybe everything was okay. Maybe this was a misunderstanding. Those things happened. Right? I surveyed the scene for signs of the man who had been arguing with Mark.

  Dean circled his truck to my side. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

  I didn’t share his optimism. In fact, it had been my experience that things were rarely okay.

  A skinny man in jeans, a white T-shirt, and an unbuttoned flannel sat on our front porch steps. He flicked a lighter to life and hung a cigarette from his bottom lip.

  My heart and feet stuttered to a stop.

  Dean placed a warm hand on my back. “My mom’s in there with him. We can go to her and she’ll fill you in.”

  I shook my head, unable to speak or move. A violent gust of wind whipped hair into my eyes. Tears formed and broke over my cheek.

  “Katy?” Dean stepped in front of me, obstructing my view of the man I never wanted to see again. “Are you okay? Do you want to sit? You might be having a panic attack.”

  I swallowed and forced my voice to cooperate. “Do you see the man on my porch?”

  He looked over one shoulder. “Shaggy hair. Smoking?”

  “Yeah.” My breaths came in quick, painful bursts. “I think that’s my dad.” Humiliation scorched my cheeks. Who said things like that? Who didn’t know for sure what their dad looked like?

  Answer: me. The cast out. The tossed aside and forgotten.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded, no longer trusting my composure to last.

  I’d met Joshua once. He’d shown up at Grandma’s funeral. It had been the worst day of my life until he arrived with a smile and a teddy bear. For one brief moment, I thought he’d come to fix my world. I would be okay because my dad had come for me.

  Mark had tossed him on the curb and cursed him out in front of the entire town.

  Pain from the memory nearly buckled my knees.

  People said he was drunk, but I hadn’t cared, and I’d cried harder as he drove away.

  He didn’t take me with him. He’d left me with Mark.

  Dean lowered his face to mine. “Should we go talk to him? Maybe he can tell you what happened.”

  “I’m sure he can.” My voice was flat and hard. “He’s Joshua.”

  Recognition dawned on Dean’s face. He turned for another look at the man who might have killed my grandpa.

  Joshua’s head snapped up, like an alarm had gone off. His gaze fell on me, and he crushed the cigarette under his foot.

  Fingernails bit into the tender skin of my palms. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  The gate to our backyard swung open with a gaping yawn. Darkness carried into the street. Voices jumped through the crowd of onlookers, in a foreign language of acronyms and vocabulary I’d never heard. I peeled my gaze off Joshua and touched Dean’s arm. “What are they saying?”

  “Don’t worry.” His eyes were sincere, but the answer was too swift. His mother was a triage nurse. He knew what they were saying, and he didn’t want to tell me.

  He pressed the curve of his ball cap lower and rolled his shoulders forward. “There she is.”

  Mrs. Wells and a pair of EMTs guided a stretcher through the open gate.

  Mark’s head wobbled unconsciously as they taxied along, navigating the rough terrain from lawn to street.

  A boulder landed in my gut.

  Vicious winds spiraled through the creepy purple and gray sky. Everything about the night was surreal.

  “Come on.” Dean towed me past a wad of neighbors to the ambulance, where the gurney was headed. His blue eyes were set with resolve. “You can ride with him.”

  His mom flagged us through police officers on the front line. She pressed her palms to my face when I made it into reach. “Listen. You’re going to be okay. Do you want to ride in the ambulance with him?”

  My harried mind grasped for words and failed. Fear clutched my heart, trying relentlessly to crush my soul, but nearly two decades of shame and guilt had already completed the job.

  Mark is probably dead because he had to raise me.

  I imagined the logical part of me bowing out as the pathological part took over. There was no stopping the shame spiral once it began. I braced myself for the usual internal beating.

  Mark was always worried about money. He could’ve worked less hours, if he didn’t have me to feed and house.

  I’d grilled burgers to lower the electric bill, but maybe all the red meat had given him high blood pressu
re and cholesterol. Maybe I’d killed him.

  Mrs. Wells tugged me against her chest. “It’s okay. You don’t have to go with him. I know things look scary right now, but your granddad is tougher than anyone I know.” She pushed me away by my shoulders. “I’ll ride with him in the bus. Dean will drive you, okay? I’ll meet you at the hospital.” She looked over my shoulder, presumably at her son. “No speeding. Obey every traffic law. Stop at the lights. Got it?”

  She climbed into the ambulance with a lifeless version of Mark and an EMT working to set up an IV. One of the officers shut the doors behind them.

  “Katy?” Joshua appeared beside me. “I’m Joshua Lowe.”

  I stared at the hand he extended my way. “I know who you are. I have to go.” I turned to Dean with pleading eyes. No one could’ve convinced me three hours ago that any of this would happen. Least of all that Dean Wells would be my savior, but there wasn’t enough strength left in me to deal with both problems at once, and I needed him.

  “Katy,” Joshua reached for me.

  I deflected his hand. “Don’t.”

  Dean dipped his chin in understanding and turned his face to Joshua. “Not now, man. I don’t know what’s going on here, but she doesn’t want to talk to you, and her grandpa’s on his way to the hospital. Whatever this is”—he motioned between us—“can wait.” He swept gentle eyes over me. “Ready?”

  Not even a little.

  * * * *

  Dean drove too fast, rolled through intersections with stop signs, and gunned it at yellow lights.

  I braced a palm against the dash and sorted my most selfish thoughts into degrees of awful. What happens to me if Mark dies? I’d be eighteen in a minute, but besides that, what happened to me? I didn’t have any other family. Joshua isn’t family. Heidi was leaving for college at the end of the summer, along with everyone else I knew. There was legal stuff to deal with when someone died. How could I handle that? When Grandma died, Mark fought with attorneys for months. Did I need an attorney? I didn’t have money for an attorney. I couldn’t even sign a contract for another ten days. Could it wait ten days?

  I ran the pads of my thumbs under both eyes and covered my mouth before I said anything stupid. What kind of person worried about herself when her grandpa could be dead?

  The truck rocked to a stop in the drop-off zone outside the emergency room. “I’ll park and meet you inside. Mom’s already in there. Can I call your friend Heidi for you?”

  I cracked the door open and stretched my feet to the ground. “No. I’ll call her.” I tapped my phone to life and sent a text instead.

  Her response came before I made it to the automatic doors. “On my way. Mom too.”

  A tear fell onto the screen. I rubbed my phone against my shirt and batted the heavy drops from my eyes. Deep breaths. This was going to be fine.

  The emergency room doors parted and a flood of icy air poured down my back. I slipped inside and wrapped trembling arms around my middle before ghosting to the desk. “I’m here for Mark Reese.”

  The warble in my voice made it sound like a question. Like I wasn’t sure why I was there.

  The nurse raised her frazzled face to mine. “Who?”

  “Mark Reese. He’s my grandpa.”

  “Give me just a quick minute.” She typed something into the computer on her desk. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t have a Mark Reese registered here. Could he have been discharged? When did he get here?”

  I rubbed sweaty palms up and down my goose-pimpled arms. “I’m not sure. Maybe five minutes ago.” I checked over both shoulders and down the busy corridor. “I don’t know.”

  She lifted her brows into an expression I recognized. Pity. “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll let you know the minute I get his information.”

  “Thanks.”

  The waiting room bustled with sick children, injured people, and their loved ones. I took a seat near the window and watched for Heidi’s mom’s car to enter the lot.

  “Katy?” Mrs. Wells rushed through the room and fell onto the seat beside me. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you walked in. Why are you alone? Where’s Dean?”

  “Parking, I think.” It seemed like forever since I’d entered the building. “I don’t know.” I bit into my tongue. If I said I didn’t know to one more person, I’d punch myself in the face. Get it together, Katy. “Heidi and her mom are on their way.”

  “Okay. That’s good. I’m going to stay with your granddad. I know a little about his medical history, and I might be useful. He’s in good hands. Dr. Murphy’s an excellent cardiologist.”

  “So, he’s not…” I frowned, unable to say the word.

  A minute later, she gasped. “Oh, no. No, sweetie. He’s being moved to ICU for monitoring. They’ll do all they can and bring you back as soon as it’s safe to do that. Are you okay out here on your own? I can stay if you need me.”

  She didn’t say everything would be fine. Dean had told me everything would be fine. Maybe she knew that was a lie.

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  “Ask the nurse at the desk to call for me if you need anything, and I’ll come right back out.”

  I nodded.

  The sliding doors parted and Heidi walked in with Dean on her heels. I jumped to my feet and ran to her. I had no idea how much I’d needed to see her until she appeared. She wrapped me into her arms and Dean pivoted away, meeting his mother at the desk. I buried my head in Heidi’s wild hair and cried. I didn’t even know why. Everything seemed too large for a reason but also surprisingly accurate.

  We retreated to a set of chairs in the farthest corner of the room and waited.

  Time moved more slowly in the ER waiting room. I emptied a box of tissues, trying to pull my shit together, while Heidi did her best to distract me from a spiral of negative thoughts. Dean never came to see me. He spoke with his mom and left. Heidi’s mom made three trips to the cafeteria for drinks and snacks. The world inside the hospital had smelled like bleach and old flowers until she arrived—sterile, with a hint of people-die-here. She’d slowly added the bite of stale coffee and tang of aging barbecue chips to the bouquet.

  “Why don’t you stay at my house until they release him?” Heidi asked.

  “I just want to go home.”

  Her mom lifted her gaze from a tattered magazine in her hands. “You shouldn’t be alone. Maybe Heidi can stay with you.”

  I shook my head. “I need the night to process.”

  They didn’t push, and I slouched against the vinyl chair back. “My dad was on the porch when I got there tonight. I didn’t talk to him, but Mrs. Wells said he and Mark were arguing when Mark had his heart attack.”

  Heidi paled. “He’s here?” she whispered. “He’s back?”

  “He was outside my house when I left for the hospital. Who knows where he is now?”

  Heidi moved to the edge of her seat. “Did he say anything to you? Did he recognize you?”

  “Oh, yeah. He knew me right away. He tried to talk to me, but Dean helped me get away from him. I can’t handle more drama right now. I mean, what is he even doing here?”

  Heidi scanned the room. “What does he look like?”

  I shrugged. “Shaggy brown hair, narrow face, tall and lean. Dresses like a scarecrow.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  It was after midnight when Mrs. Wells returned to me. She looked like I felt: overwhelmed, exhausted, and edgy. “Mark had a massive heart attack. He’s stable but sedated. His heart suffered some damage from the attack, but we’ve also found a significant blockage. The attack could be a hidden blessing. Without a trip to the ER, he might not have known about the blockage until it was too late.”

  A massive heart attack seemed to qualify as “too late” to me. “Are they sending him home?”

  She stroked my hair. “No. Dr. Murphy recommended a coronary artery bypass.”

  “Oh.”

  Sh
e described the accumulation of plaque in veins and how our arteries can harden over time. Heidi’s mom looked appropriately horrified.

  I made plans to research on WebMD later. “When’s the surgery?”

  “They’re scheduling it for seven in the morning. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? There’s nothing you can do here, and we’ll call if there’s any change in his condition.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you need a ride home?”

  Heidi’s mom slung a giant hobo bag over her shoulder. “Nope. I’ve got her. Thank you so much, Evelyn.” She hugged Mrs. Wells. “Call me if you can think of a way for me to be useful.”

  “I will.”

  Heidi stood, and I followed them into the night, away from Mark. I had no idea if I’d ever see him again, and I didn’t even ask if I could say good-bye.

  * * * *

  The house was dark and silent. I turned the porch light on and waved good-bye to Heidi and her mom. I’d spent plenty of time alone, but this was different. I hoisted my bag over my head and set it on the steps to take upstairs then went to look for evidence of what had happened here today. Surely, there was something I could clean with all my pent-up adrenaline.

  The kitchen was spotless, exactly as I’d left it. When had Joshua gotten here? What did he want? I pinched the note on our counter between my thumb and first finger. Had Mark even read it? I opened the refrigerator. The leftover burgers were still wrapped in cellophane. Memories of the rear gate flashed into mind.

  I shuffled to the back door and peered out. The light in Mark’s shed was still on. He’d never come inside after I left.

  The backyard motion light snapped into action as I left the porch. The shed was as old as our house and always locked. I dashed across the grass, alive with new purpose. I stopped at the shed and swept a silver padlock off the ground. Whoever had knocked it loose didn’t know how much the piece of metal meant to Mark. It was how he kept me out. It was a precious treasure.

  I pulled the doors wide and marveled at the dingy interior. I’d spent countless hours speculating about what he did out here. I’d dreamed of ways to sneak inside and unearth his deep, dark secrets. Now I had as much time as I wanted, and I stepped inside with trepidation.