“Maddie, where are you?”
“Angeline,” I mumble.
“You have to wake up, Maddie.”
“Sleepy… Have to rest.”
“Maddie! Wake up!” she shrieks.
Startled, I opened my eyes. Three faces hovered fuzzily over me.
“She’s back. We’ve got her now,” a man said. “Give her two cc’s of nor…” I ignored the fuss around me and floated away again into pleasant oblivion...
Zac kissed me ardently, his delicious tongue exploring my mouth. I relished the feel of his hand moving slowly from my shoulder to my breast. Tickling down past my waist and over my belly, he caressed my legs. Suddenly, he thrust his fingers into me painfully, causing me to wrench back from our kiss.
It wasn’t Zac at all. It was Father! No sounds would escape my throat when I objected. I wanted to shove him away. I couldn’t move, couldn’t cry out. I lay naked and paralyzed as he leered over me.
A disembodied voice intoned, “Years of grief have eaten away at her emotional and mental states.”
“You aren’t going to do anything to me, Madisen. Ever.” He laughed.
“No. Father, no,” I begged in my mind. “Father, NO!” My silent screams were useless...
Chapter 23
ANGELINE LEADS ME by the hand, skipping to a quilt on the lawn. She flops down on her belly and kicks her feet in the pleasant evening air, searching among the blades of grass at the edge of the blanket for a four leaf clover. I settle by her and cross my legs yoga style.
Finally, I find the courage to say, “I should’ve protected you from Father. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how I could’ve overlooked what he did. I should’ve stopped him. After you were gone, I sh—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupts. “I didn’t want you to do anything. After I died, I didn’t want you to stay scared or be sad. I wanted you to be happy. I asked Aunt Ceci to help you.” She sits up.
“You talked to Aunt Ceci after you were gone?” I say, astonished.
“Of course. I’m not sure she knew it was me.” Angeline grins and adds, “She usually did what I wanted, though.”
“Oh,” I say. I don’t know why I’m surprised she talked to someone else. I guess I wanted to believe it was only Mother and me.
“I still failed you,” I continue. “I’m going to tell everyone what he did to you. I should’ve done something while you were alive. I waited ten years before even bothering to come back and find out it was Wittford who killed you. I could’ve done that a long time ago.” Tears begin to roll down my cheeks.
“I already told you, I’m fine now. Daddy can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t be mean to you anymore either, if you don’t let him.” She lays her hand on my arm.
I lean forward on my elbows and weep. Angeline reaches up to put her arm around my shoulder.
After I’m cried out, she says, “You have to ask Mommy.”
“Mother knows about all this?” I gasp.
“Ask her, Maddie.”
“Wake up for me. Madisen dear, it’s time to wake up now. Madisen.” The musical voice sang in my ear like an annoying gnat. I sighed and started to turn and pull the blanket over my head. A firm hand landed on my shoulder to stop me. “Let me see those beautiful baby blues. Open your eyes for me.”
With some effort, I cranked my lids up and blinked to focus. In the dimness, a pleasant, black face festooned with a smile was peering down at me. “There they are,” she said.
I tried to speak. It was too much work. The stranger continued, “I’m Nurse Hanna. You’re in the hospital, dear. You’re going to be fine. You had surgery, and everything went very well. Someone is here to see you. I can let him in for a visit. A very short one. You’ve got to rest.”
The nurse moved out of my line of sight, and someone else came into view. It took me a second to realize the red eyes and ashen face belonged to Zac. The smile he attempted came across more like a grimace.
“Hey,” he said as he kissed my forehead. “You had me worried. It’s good to see you’re awake.”
My mouth was dry. I had to swallow a couple of times before I could speak. “Zac?” I whispered.
“Yes?” He squeezed my hand. “I’m here baby. What can I do?”
“Please. Just go away.” I saw the hurt expression on his face, then my lids came down.
~~~
Everything was white. I opened and closed my eyes a few times to try to make sense of it. I eventually realized I was gazing at a ceiling. The walls were white, too. The door beyond my feet was white with a rectangular window in it. Even the blankets were white on the bed where I lay. There was nothing else in the room. I was on my back and slightly inclined, unable to see what made faint beeping sounds somewhere behind me.
To my left, movement drew my attention. A woman with a head full of curly short blonde hair stepped to the bedside. She had a fair slender face with dark eyebrows.
“Good morning. How are you today?”
“Very well, thank you,” I said automatically. My voice was so hoarse, I could barely make any sound, and my throat hurt. The woman smiled with sparkling eyes.
“You’re in post-op, and you have a visitor,” she said. “Your sister’s here. I’ll go get her. I’ve already told her she’s limited to ten minutes.”
My mind was too slow to tell her that it was a mistake, my sister was dead. The blonde had already walked out the door. I let my eyes close. Oh well, maybe Angeline’s here, too.
Someone swooshed into the room.
It was Tabs. She was cute in a short pink skirt and a pink and yellow-flowered cotton blouse.
“Oh my God!” She bent over to squeeze my shoulders in a delicate hug. “Everyone’s been worried about you! How do you feel? Oh, that’s a stupid question. You were shot.”
Shot? “What?” I rasped. She immediately looked contrite.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes I ain’t got the good sense God gave a rock.”
“No, it’s okay.” Images flashed through my mind of Nurse Hanna waking me, Father aiming the gun, discovering the pictures Angeline had hidden, and realizing Zac and his family knew all along about Father’s abuse. Tabs brought the straw in a plastic cup of water to my lips, and I took a swallow. The coolness felt good in my parched mouth and throat. I drank some more. “What time is it, Sis?” I asked.
“It’s Friday, about noon,” she said, wrinkling her nose in acknowledgment of her fib. “You got out of surgery this morning about three.” She sounded apprehensive as she smoothed her long curls. “Do you remember what happened?”
“We were outside Father’s house,” I said, my voice a bit rough. “He came home and got angry. He pulled a gun out of his car.” She nodded.
“Zac was here until I arrived about fifteen minutes ago,” Tabs said, rambling as she tended to do when she was excited. “He told me a little about what happened. He followed the ambulance here and hasn’t budged from the waiting room since. I don’t think he got any sleep at all, you know. He looks horrible. Tired and wrung out from worry. He wouldn’t agree to leave until I promised to call if you woke up while he’s gone. He decided to get a room at a local hotel so he could take a shower and change. Sheriff Rey’s driving in to meet up with him, bringing him some fresh clothes. I’d better call him right now.”
“No!” I said. She was startled by my hostility, and her large eyes grew wide. “Let him take his time.” She seemed skeptical. “I don’t want to see him.” I couldn’t look at her and picked at the blanket on the bed.
“Why not? What’s going on?”
Tears overflowed as the sting of the family’s betrayal rushed back. “I can’t talk to him. Please?”
“Okay, honey, don’t cry,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”
“Not now, I don’t want to think about it. What hospital is this?”
“The University of Kansas Medical Center. When you got shot, Zac called an ambulance right away. They were on anot
her call, and it took forty-five minutes for them to get there. They took you to Clantonville Memorial. I guess you were going into shock and gave the doctors a scare when they unloaded you from the ambulance. They brought you around and stabilized you. It was a couple of hours until an ambulance could transport you here.
“Zac saved you from your father, you know. Lauren knocked his arm away right when he fired. That probably made the bullet miss your head. He hit her on the cheek with the pistol. I’ll bet that hurt. Anyway, Zac took the opportunity to charge him while he was distracted, tackled him to the ground and they fought. Eventually, he wrestled the gun away from your father. It’s a miracle no one was shot during the scuffle.”
“Is Father in jail?” I asked hopefully.
“No. Zac didn’t realize at first you were hit. When he saw you on the ground, he rushed back to you. Your father demanded Lauren leave with him. She said no, so he grabbed her and tried to force her to get into the car. She managed to get away from him and ran into the house. Then he took off. The police haven’t found him.”
I closed my eyes, partly out of weariness and partly out of disappointment that Father wasn’t behind bars.
“I’ve kept you awake too long,” she said. “Here, drink another sip of water and sleep some more.”
I took another mouthful, closed my eyes, and gratefully sank into nothingness.
~~~
I gingerly touched the bandage at my waist that wrapped around to my back. My right side ached badly from my ribs almost to my knee. The windowless room was dimly lit. I saw a small lighted box beside me and pushed the call button. A few minutes later, a plump nurse came in wearing navy scrubs. She seemed a little put out that I’d interrupted whatever she was doing.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, thinking a show of deference would bring a better reaction than pointing out I simply wanted her to do her job. “Can I get up to go to the restroom?” My method worked because her demeanor immediately relaxed.
“Of course,” she replied. She took the monitor clip off my finger and lifted my feet from the bed to place them on the floor. “Easy now. Here, roll the IV with you.” I shuffled, stiff and aching, to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet resulted in a sharp pain. When I was finished washing my hands, the nurse helped me back to bed. I never realized how much simple movements used the muscles in my torso.
“How’s the discomfort?” she asked.
“Worse than when I was awake earlier,” I admitted.
“I’ll give you something for it.”
Chapter 24
WHATEVER SHE GAVE ME through the IV worked fast. I went to sleep and rested well until morning.
I awoke to a different nurse moving around my bed.
“How are you dear?” she asked, giving me a smile that made her eyes luminous, and showed her gleaming teeth.
“Hello, Nurse Hanna. I’m doing okay.” She brightened when I called her by name.
“Your stats and vitals are good.” She put a comforting hand on my arm. “I’m sure we’ll be transferring you to a semi-private room this morning. Your boyfriend is still here. He stayed all night again in the waiting room, bless him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as worried as he is for you. Technically, he’s not allowed in. I can only let him see you for a short while.”
“No!” I exclaimed. She was taken aback, so I added, “Really, that’s not necessary. I don’t want to see him or any of the Redondo family. I’m sorry, I can’t explain more. Please don’t allow them in,” I pleaded.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” she said doubtfully. “Do you want me to tell the admissions desk they aren’t permitted to visit you?” I gave a strong nod to reinforce my decision. She seemed to recognize my determination and left without further questions.
I dozed off and on, not realizing several hours had passed until a doctor came into the room. He looked much too young to be qualified to practice medicine. He wore pastel pink scrubs that emphasized his tall slender build. The brown eyes in his thin face were surrounded by unruly hair that was a little long and stuck up in back in a cowlick. His chin was baby smooth and contributed to my impression that he was barely old enough to be in college.
“Hello, Ms. Chandler. I’m Dr. Ellis, your surgeon. How are you doing?” he asked with a smile as he scanned my digital chart on a tablet.
“I’m doing fine. Please, call me Madisen. When can I be released?”
His expression grew serious. It made him appear somewhat older, which was reassuring. I didn’t like the idea that a nineteen-year-old-looking boy had performed my surgery.
“You’ll be here at least ten days, maybe longer,” he said.
“Ten days!” I grumbled. “That’s a long time. I’m sure I’ll be up and about much sooner than that.” And on the first plane home to San Antonio.
“We’ll see how it goes,” he said. “You were extremely lucky. The bullet pierced your abdominal cavity above your right pelvic bone. It nicked the outer layer of your large intestine as it passed through your body. Had the bullet penetrated as much as half an inch more to your left, intestinal fluids would’ve leaked out, resulting in a very serious condition. As it is, the risk remains high, and we’ll monitor you closely. If there isn’t any complication from infection, you may, and I stress may, be able to go home after a week. We’ll keep you on strong antibiotics for at least two weeks.”
“Are you certain staying a whole week is necessary, Doctor?” I added his title, hoping a demonstration of respect would soften him up.
“You concentrate on resting and healing, Madisen,” he said firmly, refusing to listen to any more of my protests.
Nurse Hanna came back after an hour with an aide. They rolled my bed to a larger room on a different floor. It was sterile looking, with a TV, four plastic chairs, and two plain chests of drawers that did double duty as nightstands. A door led to a small bathroom.
There was no other occupant at the moment. I supposed not having a roommate would help me rest, but it seemed like I was constantly being disturbed by nurses checking on me.
Another disruption to my recovery came that afternoon in the form of a detective. He arrived when I was sleeping and seemed embarrassed to wake me.
“Ms. Chandler?” he said quietly. “Uh, Ms. Chandler?”
“Yes?” I replied groggily, becoming fully alert when I realized he wasn’t a member of the hospital staff.
“I’m Detective John Hanson, Henry County Sheriff’s Department. I’m sorry to wake you. I’m investigating the shooting, and I need you to tell me what happened.”
The detective was a large man. His dusty blond hair and mustache were neatly trimmed, and he wore an ancient striped tie with a dingy short-sleeved shirt. His pants were a size too small, judging by the amount of belly hanging over his belt. He had a considerate manner and looked at me with kind eyes.
“I was standing on the front lawn of my father’s house, and he shot me,” I told him, grumpy from having my nap interrupted.
“Okay,” Detective Hanson said mildly, taking a notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “Please start at the beginning, in the morning. Why did you decide to go to your father’s house?”
Pursing my lips, I contemplated how I could tell the truth and leave out the fact I had conversations with my dead sister. I raised the back of the bed with the remote, wondering if the Detective had already gotten a statement from Zac.
“The first thing I did when I woke up was call Zac Redondo to ask him to come to the hotel. I’d had a bad dream about my deceased twin and was very upset.” He nodded, apparently already familiar with the history of Angeline’s murder. “Zac came over and helped me calm down. I asked him to drive me to the house.”
“What happened when you got there?”
“I rang the bell,” I continued. “No one was home. Since Father had previously invited me over, I supposed it would be okay to go inside.” I tried to look as sincere as possible as that lie fell from my lips. So much for telling the t
ruth. The detective didn’t need to know I would never have accepted an invitation from Father. “The door of the utility garage in the basement was unlocked, and we went in. I ran upstairs to my sister’s room. In the closet, I found two photographs that jarred memories from my childhood, and I realized Angeline had been sexually abused by my father. Zac and I were sitting in the living room talking when I heard his car drive up. I went outside and told Father I’d expose him as a pedophile who’d abused his daughter.” I paused, thinking that, even to me, the story sounded like a bad daytime soap opera. I couldn’t guess what Detective Hanson was thinking behind his blank expression.
“When did Mr. Chandler request you stop by?” he asked.
“I saw him at Cecilia Ortiz’s funeral.”
“What day did he want you to come see him?”
“He asked me to come for dinner on Friday. I couldn’t make it that evening because I already had plans. The offer was left open.” I wanted my story to keep Zac in the clear. Though I was furious with him, he didn’t deserve to get in trouble for breaking and entering.
“Okay,” he said noncommittally. “Why were you looking in the closet for pictures?”
Without missing a beat I said, “I wasn’t looking for photos specifically. Her room hasn’t been touched since she was alive, and I hoped that if I found something personal of hers, it might ease my mind after the nightmare. I scanned the bedroom and checked the closet. I noticed the corners of the photos sticking out behind the baseboard. I wasn’t sure they were pictures until I pulled them out.”
“And you knew you would need a pry bar to find whatever it was you were looking for?” he challenged.
My heart rate sped up. Thank God I wasn’t hooked up to a beeping monitor. The rapidly increasing rhythm would’ve worked like a lie detector, alerting him that I was being far from honest. I remained outwardly calm. “I wanted to be thorough so I wouldn’t miss anything,” I said blandly.
The Art of Going Home (The Art of Living series Book 1) Page 12