by Hill, Brenda
“Has my partner been in today?” he asked her. “You know, for Tracy Michaels.”
“You mean the young woman in 102?” She looked at the other nurses who shrugged.
Karr gave her a nod.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “We’ve been very busy, but I haven’t seen anyone except Sergeant Sanders. If you’ll wait just a moment, I’ll call—”
“No, that’s okay, I’ll catch up to him. Thanks.” He turned and headed down the corridor.
Sonofabitchin’ little tramp. She did talk. Damn good thing he cleared out of the house when he did.
But Christ all Friday, he didn’t want to have to run all his life. He had to do something, something to remind the little bitch who she was dealing with.
He’d just drop in for a friendly little visit, see how she’s doing, let her know he was still around.
He was just about to open the door to her room when a nurse bustled past him.
“I’ll just be a moment, Officer, if you’d like to wait,” she told him, all smiles.
Shit!
He nodded as if he had all the time in the world. Instead, as soon as the nurse entered Tracy’s room, he hustled down the hall to the elevators. Of all the fucking luck.
He would just have to think of something else.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tracy couldn’t sleep. Was it possible that Karr had actually left town? Afraid to let herself hope, she tried to think rationally, but the possibility was too exciting. Surely, with the police after him, he’d run.
When the morning sun streamed into the window, Tracy, for the first time, wanted to see the view. Carefully swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slowly pushed herself to her feet. A wave of dizziness washed over her, but she stood motionless until it passed. Then, clutching the metal t-pole holding her IV, she shuffled to the window, propped her elbows on the ceramic-tiled ledge, and gazed at the vista before her.
As far along the Front Range as she could see, the Rockies towered to a height over fourteen thousand feet. Even now in late spring, snow crowned the jagged peaks. From a distance, the foothills were a blue-lavender with patches of brown, green and blue with an occasional burst of red as the timber and vegetation grew to the treeline.
A sparkle of light drew her gaze to the left, to the state’s capitol. Just at that moment, the sun’s rays caressed the golden dome, causing a brilliant burst of shimmering luster.
Tracy felt a tug of pride for her adopted city, and along with the pride, a new determination. She was getting well, and if Karr were really out of the picture, things could work out. She could begin again and make a life for Ritchie and herself. She would make it happen.
***
“Mrs. Michaels? Tracy? I’m Susan Banning.” A short, plump, white-haired woman, who was probably in her seventies, stood in the doorway. An enormous sequined butterfly covered the front of her hot-pink pullover, which fell to her knees, almost covering her lavender polyester pants. Large purple hoops dangled from her ears, and the large, straw handbag hanging from her arms was adorned with a matching sequined butterfly.
Tracy remembered to close her mouth.
“Surprised, aren’t you?” The woman’s blue eyes twinkled. “I get a kick out of everybody’s jaw dropping when they see me. For some reason, I’m not what they expect.”
Tracy couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Just call me Suzy.” Patting Tracy’s hand, she sat down by the bed and dug in her straw handbag. “Would you like a gumdrop? I keep them with me all the time. Darn doctor made me quit smoking, and they help, you know. Smoked for fifty years. He’d been after me for twenty of those fifty, so to make him feel good, I quit. Actually,” she winked, “I’d been thinking about quitting on my own, but I didn’t let on. Wanted him to think I listen to him once in a while.”
This funny-looking woman smoked for fifty years?
“Why in my time, if you wanted to be with it, you smoked. I enjoyed it. When I first learned, my girlfriend and I would sneak behind the house and boy, would we get sick! Wouldn’t do, you see, just to smoke. You had to have a certain ambience about it. So we’d watch in a mirror, inhale, exhale, until we looked like Bette Davis.”
Even though Tracy didn’t know what to make of the woman sitting next to her, the easy banter helped her to relax.
“And did I love my long holders,” Suzy continued. “The more rhinestones the better. Had different colors for different outfits. Oh well,” she sighed, “those were the days. But so many of my friends developed emphysema or some other lung disease that I finally got scared and gave up the cigarettes. So, now I chew gumdrops. Not so bad, really, and a heck of a lot cheaper.”
Suzy settled back in the chair and placed her handbag on the floor.
“I notice that you’re keeping your face turned away, probably to hide that shiner of yours,” she said cheerfully. “It’s kind of hard to talk to one eye, so why don’t you just face me, head on and let me see.”
Tracy didn’t move. It was still difficult to let other people see her, even hospital personnel.
“Honey,” Suzy said, “I loved a big, handsome hunk of a man for most of my life, bore him three sons and have seen a lot of life. I’ve never fainted at the sight of a black eye before and I sure don’t expect to start now. So why don’t you just go ahead and look at me. Go ahead, then we can relax and talk.”
The older woman waited patiently as Tracy lay rigid. Finally, she turned her head slightly toward Suzy, then more and more until she was directly facing her.
Suzy got up from her chair, and placing her hand gently on Tracy’s chin, she tilted Tracy’s head and carefully examined the bruised and swollen flesh.
“Goodness, that’s certainly a doozer, isn’t it?” she said. “Well, don’t worry, it’ll go down and fade, and that pretty face of yours will be good as new.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Tracy felt a rush of gratitude for this funny little woman. To be accepted by a stranger, no matter how grotesque she felt she looked, was a wonderful relief.
“Now,” Suzy said. “Why don’t you tell me how you feel.”
Feel? “I...I don’t know. Everyone is so interested in what happened, down to every little detail, that I haven’t thought about how I feel.”
“Ah, I see the police have been here. Well, they have their job to do. They want to catch whoever did it. But what I want to know is, how do you feel? Here, inside,” she added, placing her hand over her heart.
Tracy stared blankly at Suzy, startled that someone was suggesting she put her thoughts into words, forcing her to face her feelings. Even Diana had encouraged her to not think about that night.
“I don’t know,” Tracy murmured, “and I’m not sure I want to know. It hurts too much.”
Suzy’s face softened. She rose and put her arms around Tracy. Then she just held on and hugged.
Tracy felt herself relax in Suzy’s arms until, tears starting to flow at last, she was holding tightly to the other woman. Suzy crooned soft things to her, just like a mother with a hurt child. Tracy allowed herself to be cradled against Suzy’s ample bosom, and felt, for that brief time, safe from the world.
Minutes passed before Suzy released her and tenderly wiped her face.
“You seem so understanding” Tracy told her. “I didn’t expect that.”
“I do understand.” Suzy sat on the end of the bed and looked at Tracy with a soft smile. “You see, I too, was attacked. About thirty years ago. Raped and beaten, left in front of my own home. And when I needed help and understanding, someone was there for me.”
“The Rape Center?”
“Goodness no. In those days, there was no such thing. No, my help came from my man.” Suzy’s face softened. “My husband.”
Tracy didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to seem intrusive, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but be curious about this woman and her easy way of dealing with what had happened to her.
; “Would it be too painful for you to tell me about it?”
“No, honey, it’s not so painful now. It was a long time ago, and thanks to Mother Nature, details tend to get hazy. Wonderful thing, nature. Otherwise, how could we go on living? Anyway, it’s a familiar story.
“You see,” she continued, “I always wanted to paint. Landscapes, you know. So a friend and I took a night class at a school not too far from where I live. My husband was good about driving us there, but on that night he was away on a fishing trip. My friend arranged a ride with someone, and we were going to really splurge and take a cab home afterward. Like rich folks, you know. But when it was over, Lenny, a man also taking lessons, offered us a ride and we took it. Neither of us saw any harm in it. We didn’t know him very well, just on speaking terms in class, but he always seemed so nice that we had no reason to be suspicious. And everything went along fine. For a while.
“We both had to get up front. The back was all packed up with odds and ends. Since my friend was going to get out first, I got in the middle. But when we got to my house, he wouldn’t let me out. The door was stuck, you see. He’d had to come around and open it from the outside to let my friend out.
“I still wasn’t suspicious. As a matter of fact, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make him feel bad when he was nice enough to give us a ride. Anyway, that’s where it happened, parked in front of my own home.”
She was quiet a few minutes.
“What happened then?” Tracy asked.
“When he got all through, he acted like it wasn’t a big deal, and besides, according to him, it was all my fault. I had ‘led him on.’ My leg brushed against his in the car, you know.
“After he dumped me out of the car, somehow I made it inside my house, and there I stayed for a couple of days until my husband got home. Thank God for my husband.” She sat in silent thought for a moment, then laughed.
“Talk about a shiner! I was a mess, but my husband took care of me and loved me just the same. He treated me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world.” She smiled with just a hint of moisture in her eyes.
“You must have loved him very much,” Tracy said.
“Oh Lord, honey, he was my life. My lover, best friend, parent when I needed it, and, my psychiatrist. He was such a good listener. When he died, part of me died. Took a while for me to start living again.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought up sad memories.”
“Oh no,” Suzy assured her. “I’m not sad when I think about him. I’m grateful I was lucky enough to have had someone like him. Not everybody does. And now, because of his help, maybe I can be a good listener for you.”
She stood and picked up her purse. “But not today. I think we’ve talked enough today. I’m going to leave now and let you rest, but I’ll be back tomorrow for the meeting. Sharon told you about that, didn’t she?”
Tracy nodded.
“I’d like to talk to you again. Is that okay?”
“I’d like that very much.” As soon as she said it, she realized how true it was.
“Meanwhile,” Suzy said, “I’d like for you to think about your feelings and maybe we can sort them out together.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next day Tracy sat in the chair while Linda took her vital signs and straightened the bed. She scooted around, trying to take the pressure off the stitches.
Diana had called earlier that morning, and although she assured Tracy that Ritchie was fine, Tracy needed to see her son, to hold him and make sure he was safe. She hoped the doctor would release her today. She was losing time, time she needed to get her life back in order. She couldn’t afford any more delays.
A kitchen worker brought in a breakfast tray.
“Now you eat as much as you can,” Linda said. “A bite of toast here, a nibble of something there, that’s not going to get you well, you know. I’ll be back later to check on you. Now you eat.”
Tracy took a sip of juice then lifted the lid off the plate. A bowl of something white. Oatmeal? Cream of Wheat? Whatever it was, it had a cherry in the center, half dunked. Oh well, if she could get her strength back, then she could go home and fix her own breakfast. She took a small bite, another, then pushed it away. After trays were picked up, she lay her head back and closed her eyes.
Sometime later Suzy breezed into the room, carrying three paper bags.
“Well! Look at you.”
Although she should have been prepared for Suzy’s eccentric appearance, Tracy was still taken aback when she saw what Suzy wore. A pink t-shirt provided a clashing background for jewel-colored rhinestones, arranged in alternate stripes of green, red, blue, and yellow. Pink poly pants flared at her ankles, and dangle earrings—a sparkling array of red sequins on little balls—brushed the top of her shoulders. On her feet, colored stones sparkled in a flowered design against dyed pink tennis shoes. Laughing, she twirled around, a flat-footed pirouette, then stuck out a foot.
“Made them myself,” she said “I just love sparkles, all kinds. Get well soon and I just might make a pair for you.” She eyed Tracy. “You know something? If you’re sitting on that chair, you could just as easy sit in a wheelchair and get out of this room awhile.”
Tracy wasn’t too sure about that. In one way, it was tempting, as this room was all she’d seen for three days. But going through the door, going out there, was another matter. There were people out there. People who might stare.
“I passed the nicest little alcove, really private. You’ll love it.” Suzy disappeared through the door, then returned shortly pushing a wheelchair. Linda trailed behind.
“So, you’re going for a ride,” Linda said. “How nice!” She came around to lock the brakes on the wheelchair.
“I’m not going.”
“Nonsense!” Suzy said. “It’ll do wonders for you to see the other half for a change.” She kept right on making preparations as she talked, making sure Tracy’s robe was buttoned, then getting a brush to run through her hair.
“I can’t go anywhere. Dr. Cole will be making his rounds and I have to be here.”
“Nice try, but it won’t work. This is Sunday. No rounds today.”
“All right!” Tracy pulled her robe tighter around her neck. “Suzy, you’re a bully. I never would have suspected it, but behind that sweet grandmotherly façade, there’s someone in there that’s not too nice. But if people stare, promise you’ll bring me back.”
“Promise.” Suzy held up her right hand, all fingers bent except for the first and little finger. “Scout’s honor.”
“That’s not the Scout sign.”
“That’s okay, because I’m not a Scout.” Before anything more could be said, Suzy pushed the chair and Linda trailed behind. “We’re off!”
“Oh God,” Tracy muttered.
When they were settle in the alcove, Suzy picked up one of the bags she brought and took out covered plastic containers, a plastic knife and fork, paper plates, and several paper napkins.
Tracy watched in amazement. “You’ve got apple pie in there, I bet.”
“Nope. Something better.” Suzy lifted the lids off several containers. “I saw the hospital version of Chinese food and believe me, you don’t want it. Now this will put some meat on your bones and give you some strength.”
Tracy’s eyes widened as Suzy unpacked barbecue ribs, meaty and dripping with sauce, potato salad, strawberries, and a big slab of chocolate cake.
“A feast!” she said. “Everything I love and haven’t had in ages.”
“Dig in,” Suzy told her. “Don’t be bashful.” She watched with obvious enjoyment as Tracy sat up and took a big bite of the ribs, getting sauce all over her chin. Suzy dug in her purse again and brought out a dampened washcloth.
Tracy wiped her face. “Have some. I’ll be nice and share.”
“Thanks, sure glad you asked. I love them.” Suzy helped herself to a rib. “But I want you to eat most of them. You can’t expect your body to w
ork right if you don’t feed it, you know. When my boys were growing up and they’d get down with something, I’d cook up a storm. Everybody thought I was wrong, but my boys didn’t stay down long.”
After finishing their brunch, Suzy cleaned up the mess and sat down. She dug in her bag again for her gumdrops.
“Have to have them, you know. No matter how good or filling a meal is, if I don’t top it off with something sweet, I just don’t feel satisfied. Then I’m nibbling. But I usually nibble anyway, so I can’t win. Want some?”
“What about the cake?”
“That’s for you. Oh, don’t look at me that way, I’m not so noble; I had a big piece before I left.” She laughed and patted her tummy. “Love to cook, and I love to eat. You go ahead.”
“That was wonderful. Thanks,” Tracy said when she had eaten her fill.
Suzy put the containers away, tucked her legs under her and got comfortable.
“Ready to talk?” she asked. “Let’s sort out your feelings. Together.”
“Oh, Suzy, I don’t know.” Tracy felt so many things she didn’t think it was possible to sort them out. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. The only way she had been able to get this far was to not think as much as possible. “I’m not sure I can tell you anything. I don’t know if I can put how I feel into words. Do you really think it will help?”
“I think it’s worth a try. You know, if I have something unpleasant nagging at me, I don’t always want to face it either. I keep putting it off, hoping it’ll go away. But somehow, that doesn’t happen. Sometimes a person just has to face it eye to eye, and fight it that way.”
“That’s a terrific philosophy, but in real life...”
“It is real life. Take you, for instance. You can push it out of your mind, heal all up on the outside, leave the hospital and go home. But if you haven’t healed on the inside, all you’ve done is put a band-aid on the top. And just like a dirty wound that hasn’t been cleansed, the inside begins to fester, and you run the risk of becoming an emotional cripple.