Approaching Menace

by June Shaw

  She struggled to stop shaking and force her thoughts ahead. St. Elizabeth’s Hospital couldn’t be that far. But with this whole region drowned in darkness, she couldn’t be certain where she was.

  The wind shoving her car let her know a band of squalls, or possibly worse, was reaching Windswept. Treetops bent over. Light posts leaned around the highway with wires precariously dangling. The wan headlights of a car steadily following a block or more behind caught in Josie’s rearview mirror.

  Colin’s chin rested on his chest.

  “Colin. Hey buddy,” Josie said, her voice catching in her throat. She shook her brother’s shoulder.

  His head lolled to the side against his door.

  Wind trilled and buffeted her little car. Whitecaps swept over the highway. Josie’s damp fingers clutched the steering wheel. Everything looked so different. Suppose she had missed her turnoff and was heading toward Mobile? There would be hospitals, but could she find them? And it was too far. And the roads were probably worse since that was where the hurricane’s full force had headed.

  Tightness inside her throat thickened. She craned her neck, searching for familiar landmarks. A death sensation wracked her, exactly as it had that long-ago afternoon.

  Emitting a groan, Colin fell sideways toward the seat.

  Josie floored the accelerator. Her car barreled into deeper water.

  Rain slashed her windshield in sheets. “Don’t quit on us now,” she said, urging the hesitating windshield wipers to clear her view faster. She forced her eyes to focus on the dark brooding structures set back from the road. Those had to be houses. Smaller mounds must be bushes. The drenched road before them seemed endless.

  Stretching her arm, she laid her palm on Colin’s back.

  His breathing felt scant.

  Wind shaking the car made Josie again grip the wheel with both hands. She had to find help. Soon.

  Louder noise than before came with an even heavier downpour. The scene outside blurred into dark swirls.

  A street sign was violently shaking at what appeared to be a corner. Josie slowed. She could make out a few letters. “Yes,” she said, turning onto Essex Street.

  Her car shot toward the structure ahead.

  “Colin, we’re here.” She patted his leg.

  He didn’t move.

  St. Elizabeth’s Hospital resembled a lighthouse between tall pine trees in the short sea ahead that must be road. Beams of light excited Josie. They sprinkled from windows and an emergency entrance. Driving nearer, she could see someone in white helping an elderly couple up a wheelchair ramp. “We’re safe,” she whispered, her chest muscles loosening.

  Her small headlights sliced a bluish haze as her path narrowed to the hospital.

  The three people going inside turned back, all of them looking up.

  Wind whisked against their car and a locomotive sounded. Sound exploded. People screamed. Pine trees near the hospital looked like snapped beans.

  Josie pulled to the wheelchair ramp, throwing the shift in neutral. Spying something falling toward her window, she glanced up.

  The top of a tree came smashing toward her car.

  Chapter 25

  Sylvie barely noticed sunlight splashing in through windows. Light trickled along the sterile-scented halls of St. Elizabeth’s.

  Near her, a nurse paused to direct a visitor and then traipsed down the corridor, her white cushioned shoes sucking on vinyl. Sylvie stood outside the door of Room 211. The woman she embraced felt solid, making Sylvie strangely comforted instead of the other way around, as she intended. But of course, during that storm, both of their worlds had been shaken.

  They squeezed each other, a shared gesture of concern, and then let go. She watched LauraLee Allen again use tissue to dab her eyes. Still LauraLee’s tears dribbled down her pale cheeks.

  “Thank you,” Sylvie whispered, aware that a thank you was so little for what her neighbor had given. How could you ever tell another person what this meant? What her contribution would mean for Sylvie’s whole family?

  LauraLee nodded. Between blowing her nose and sniffling, she attempted a smile, her wide mouth only creasing in a slant. “He was too afraid—to do it—himself.”

  Sylvie squeezed her hand.

  LauraLee whimpered. She blew her nose. Gaining composure, she said more. “Randall didn’t want your family to know he was so frightened.”

  Sylvie rubbed her neighbor’s arm. “I understand.” Yes, she did know many people feared donation. Even she had felt afraid when she’d been tested. She had wanted so much to give Colin her kidney. At the same time she had dreaded the ordeal.

  She recalled how devastated she’d felt once they discovered she couldn’t be a donor.

  “Randall’s mother used to say he was a scardy cat,” LauraLee said, shaking her head. “She sure was a mean woman.” Her tears overflowed.

  Sylvie cried too and embraced her again. “What you did was so generous.” The soft woman shook while sobs wracked her body. Sylvie would need to get to know her better, if LauraLee didn’t move back home, as she’d mentioned she might do now.

  LauraLee rubbed her red eyes. “I wouldn’t have let anyone else have it.”

  Sylvie nodded. Everything she was feeling seemed too overwhelming to put into words. But she needed to try. “Because of you and your husband….” She swallowed what felt like a huge ball. “Because of you, my son will live.”

  Watery fluid gathered beneath LauraLee’s nose. She swiped there with her tissue. “I hope Colin does well. I am so glad Randall matched.”

  Sylvie nodded.

  LauraLee’s head bobbled, her eyes glazing. “I just wish we knew why.” Her voice cracked.

  “It was such a horrible accident,” Sylvie said, yet she, too, still wondered what had happened. “But in weather like that, who knows what can occur?”

  She didn’t want to express all of her thoughts. She’d heard rumors. Suggestions that Randall Allen might not have been such a grand husband. There may have been other women.

  LauraLee lowered her head. “When I found him,” she whimpered, “with no shirt on, and…” She seemed to be speaking to herself, surely still trying to make out all that had transpired. “And my scissors stuck in his neck. The sliced artery….” Her hands covered her face, and Sylvie imagined how she must be trying to block out that scene.

  After the worst winds had ended, LauraLee had gotten someone at the shelter to watch Annie, and somehow she’d driven through the few streets to their home.

  Sylvie’s mind replayed her own grueling hours of waiting while she prayed for her children. Finally some people from the mall got to leave. They could reach families. But not Sylvie. Through long evening hours she’d hoped and waited. Josie and Colin had to be all right.

  Sylvie had kept hope alive while envisioning her family. Josie would be taking care of Colin. He’d be clinging to his sister, wondering about his mother. Why wasn’t she there with them? She had asked herself that while realizing actually few people had been shopping in the mall. She’d also wondered about things like money.

  It’s time for me to take care of my family and finances and quit worrying about a man who might not be returning, Sylvie had told herself while waiting for the worst weather to pass and the roads to clear so she could reach home.

  LauraLee shook against her. Surely what she’d witnessed had been the ultimate horror.

  “All that blood,” LauraLee said, repeating what she’d already told Sylvie. “Randall lying across the back of a kitchen chair. We think he was trying to get outside.” Her hands covered her eyes as though trying to stop the scene.

  Sylvie wanted to stop her but determined LauraLee needed to repeat what had happened. “Randall held a scarf.” LauraLee’s hand wrapped around her full chin while her gaze went off. “It wasn’t mine.”

  She turned her eyes toward Sylvie. Those eyes looked so much like Annie’s.

  Sylvie pursed her lips. Poor Annie wouldn’t have a father.
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  And poor poor LauraLee . No spouse any longer. Sylvie knew how that felt. Her Jack might never come back. She doubted she’d want him anyway.

  “Things were flying everywhere. Who knows where everything came from,” LauraLee said, probably still attempting to determine where another woman’s scarf might have come from. Or how scissors might have stuck in her husband’s neck.

  The expression LauraLee wore was one Sylvie recognized. She’d worn it often herself. LauraLee’s was the face of a woman who knew her husband had probably been with another woman. It had probably been that other woman’s scarf. “I’m glad he was still breathing,” LauraLee said, her tone steadier than before, “so some part of him would still be useful.”

  Sylvie squeezed LauraLee’s hand in gratitude.

  Her neighbor gave Sylvie a forlorn stare. And then she padded away, slumping as though a thick blanket had been wrapped around her.

  She’d been a woman betrayed, Sylvie thought. Why else would her husband have sent her and the child off that night? And he was found partially clad.

  What had caused those scissors to get stuck in his neck? Could he really have fallen against them, as the police had determined?

  LauraLee mentioned she had left the scissors on the dress she’d been smocking for Annie on her sewing machine. Had they flown? Had he tripped and fallen?

  No one will probably ever know, Sylvie decided. Surely LauraLee would continue to wonder. Who was there with her husband? What had he been doing?

  The scissors were probably not as important to a wife as the rest of the situation. Except that they killed him.

  As LauraLee rounded a corner without looking back, Sylvie turned, having her own feelings to contend with. She still felt guilt, even though she’d had no idea that their area would get such a strong brunt of the storm.

  They had been lucky. Tree limbs lay thick on their lawn and driveway. Some shingles had come off their house, but nothing major.

  Deputies said Randall Allen seemed to have been running and trying to yank out those scissors. “If he had just left them there,” one cop had said, “all that blood loss might not have occurred. He might’ve survived.” There were no fingerprints on the shears other than his and LauraLee’s.

  Sylvie straightened her shoulders before entering Colin’s room. She found some of her neighbor’s words echoing back to her. “A few of Randall’s associates called. Gave condolences…. Some wanted to help defray Colin’s bills that weren’t covered and help with the medicine he’ll need.”

  What amazing things people did to help each other.

  Sylvie shook her head to clear away other thoughts as she walked in to see her son. Beside his bed stood the pole with bags feeding him. Between white sheets, he jerked uneasily. He had come through ICU fine and awakened while in there. She had spoken to him. Colin had talked but hadn’t made sense. In the little time he’d been in his room, he had remained in a drugged sleep. His nephrologist said he’d done well.

  Sylvie touched his cheek. Great. Still no fever. Hopefully he would never develop an infection. The surgery was extremely dangerous, but her little man had survived. He’d done much better than survive. From now on, Colin’s health should improve.

  Sylvie turned her smile to her daughter.

  Josie sat leaning toward his bed with the sling holding her arm cast resting against his mattress. The taped broken ribs didn’t show through her hospital gown, and the cuts on her face looked better.

  She is so special, Sylvie thought, such a wonderful daughter and sister.

  Josie’s head lifted. She glanced over her shoulder.

  With the arm that wasn’t broken, she reached out. Her fingers closed over Sylvie’s.

  The smile Josie gave warmed her mother inside.

  When their hands unclasped, Josie turned back to Colin. He looked barely darker than the white pillowcase his head lay on. His arms resembled pencils beneath the wide sleeves of his hospital gown.

  Josie glanced down at her own gown. “We match” she would have to tell him. Whenever Colin woke up.

  Reaching for his arm, she felt a catch in her side. It still ached a little, but the bandage that bound her seemed to help. The ribs would heal shortly, just like her arm in its heavy cast.

  Would her brother?

  Again she lowered her head. She recited more prayers. She had said so many in the chapel. She’d made her way there during his surgery and thought the small room would be empty. Instead, a priest was starting a mass. About two dozen people knelt inside. No one even glanced at her when she went in. After the service, most of the people said they hoped her patient did well.

  In there she had felt peace taking over her inner trembling. Somehow she felt comforted that Colin would make it. The small statues looked foreign, except for God’s mother, the pinnacle of motherhood.

  Josie had not considered redesigning the Virgin’s gown. The priest’s garment would look more slimming with a slighter cut, she knew without considering, and immediately pushed that thought aside. Colin needed a kidney. But what he was getting…

  With her eyes shut, Josie again saw Randall Allen. The gleam in his black eyes bounded toward her. You’re frightened, Josie. Obviously fear was his turn on.

  If Josie told—

  Once more she reasoned what she must do. If she told authorities what had happened, they would know with certainty who had been killing. Their concerns would be over.

  Not so for the Allen family.

  How would Mrs. Allen and little Annie feel, knowing what the man they admired had really been like? Would they want to know about the things he had done?

  Even more important to Josie, how would Colin feel?

  She stared at him. He had that man’s kidney. Hopefully, for life. How would anyone feel knowing an organ inside him belonged to a murderer?

  Of course, no organ could influence the personality of the person receiving it. Organs didn’t have personalities, only the probability of helping someone in need.

  No purpose would come from their knowing, Josie decided. The killings would be over. Their community and the police would be satisfied. They might believe the man they’d searched for had left their area. That would be good enough.

  The bastard! Telling me I was afraid. Randall Allen had lied and said he had signed his driver’s license to donate his organs when he died.

  But your wife got you, didn’t she?

  Josie sat up, aware that she wore a grim smile.

  “We were so lucky,” Sylvie said, “that it was a match. Such a shame, though, Mr. Allen dying in that storm.”

  Josie felt her countenance turn cold. Her lips tightened.

  A plump nurse named Sandy stuck her head in the doorway. “Oh there you are, Josie. Your doctor was looking for you. Nobody was in your bed, so we didn’t know where you’d gone. Of course we figured you might be here.”

  Standing, Josie stared down at her brother. “But I’ll have to be here when he wakes up.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Sylvie’s arm nudged hers. “I’m going to have both of my children to take care of when we get home. I can surely start now. You don’t need to be here.”

  Josie studied her. Had this person who lived in some world in her mind just mentioned that she would behave as a mother?

  As though to answer, Sylvie stepped closer to check the tube leading to Colin’s arm. She raised his sheet and inspected the wide bandage that bound his middle.

  The nurse’s laugh ended. She strolled out and Josie followed, but a groan from Colin stopped her. Josie returned to his bedside.

  Sylvie’s finger was tracing his cheek. “My baby,” she cooed.

  Colin shifted his head. His torso squirmed. His eyelids parted and he squeezed them shut. Sylvie snapped off the lamp above him. Colin’s fingers reached for his side, but his mother’s hand covered his. Squinting, he opened his eyes wider and peered up curiously.

  Josie smiled. “You’re like all the other boys again.”

  C
olin’s squeezed forehead and confused eyes told her he didn’t understand.

  Sylvie leaned close to his face. “Would you mind if Fred became some other person’s friend?”

  Colin’s eyebrows shot up. “I got one?” His mother beamed in response, and caverns formed in Colin’s cheeks. He turned to Josie. “I got a kidney.”

  With misty eyes, she nodded.

  Sylvie brushed Colin’s forehead with her hand. “Rest now, baby. Your mother’s here. We’ll have lots of time to be talking.”

  His eyes shut. Sylvie straightened his pillow and stroked his arm.

  Josie breathed easier. Now only one thing was missing from her life.

  Nurse Sandy gave a slight cough, and Josie noticed she’d come back inside to wait for her. “He’ll be fine,” Sandy said, guiding her out of the room and spotting the sketch on Josie’s cast. “What a beautiful gown. Who drew this?”

  “I did, but it was kind of awkward.” Josie had nothing to do during those first hours when she lay in her hospital bed, so she did what inspired her. “This isn’t very good.”

  “That’s exactly the kind of wedding gown my daughter hoped to find. It’s gorgeous.” Josie murmured thanks, and Sandy expounded. “Look at those lines. What a wonderful neckline.”

  This is the dress I would have worn to my own wedding, Josie mournfully considered.

  “You have some talent, young lady. You ought to become a designer,” Sandy said.

  Josie glanced back into the room they’d left. Sylvie was bent over Colin, coddling him.

  It seemed their mother had returned.

  “Oh, Josie,” Sandy said, “a young man called to see if you might be here. I can’t remember his name.” She wrenched her face while considering. “But he sounded so—gallant. Isn’t that unusual?”

  Josie wished everything would be as it had been before with Andrew. She missed him so much that even Colin’s getting a kidney wasn’t as exciting as it could have been. How could Andrew have done that to her brother? she again wondered, wishing it were different.

  Her slippers tapped on the floor beside Sandy.