The explanation had to be that he killed her, then was killed by her minions. This must be heaven. Arms upraised in exaltation, he shouted, “Lord, I am here. Thank you for your blessing.” He pulled off the dangling costume beard and flung his toupee into the wind. It shied off and landed at a jaunty angle on one of the spherical rocks. Parris walked, laughing, arms outstretched and brushing the tops of the blue grasses with open hands. Blue was his favorite color. The cold air refreshed him. The Lord knew he loved cooler weather.
A sharp pain in his hand made him look at the tiny cuts, where he touched the grasses. Blood began to drip from his lacerated fingers. His mouth dropped open. How could he be harmed in Heaven? He heard a strange noise behind him, gnang, gnang, gnang, gnang. Then the rocks began to move.
Chapter Forty-Six
Craig was in surgery. I sat in the waiting room, hugging the bag with his effects. I sat perfectly still, staring at nothing. My eyes wouldn’t open completely. The neutral colors of the room were a perfect backdrop for my numb brain. I felt the physical weight of the air pressing on my shoulders. There was nothing I could do, and helpless wasn’t a state I dealt with often.
Somewhere around two in the morning, Amanda came and sat a cup of coffee on the table next to me. “Honey, don’t worry. They’ll fix Craig up just fine.” She stroked my hair back from my face.
I dropped my head into my hands. “It’s my fault he got hurt.”
“Nonsense. It’s that bastard Parris’s fault. Craig was trying to save you. He cared…cares about you.”
I looked up at Amanda. “I sent Parris to the Outlands.” She would understand.
I felt Amanda stiffen. “He’ll get what he deserves there. You did the right thing.”
“I should have gotten rid of Parris when he came at me in the motel. I ran instead.”
“You were drugged and hurt. It was natural to run. You couldn’t have known the police would lose him, and he would come back at you.”
“I should have known. I had a vision when I first met Craig, but I didn’t read it right. It’s my fault. I should have been more cautious.” Tears started to leak from my eyes to drip on the plastic bag full of Craig’s things.
“Now quit feeling sorry for yourself.” Amanda’s voice was as stern as I had ever heard it. “News flash, you’re not perfect. You don’t have to be. You did the best you could. It’s all anyone can do.”
I took a deep, shuddering breath. Intellectually, I knew she was right, but my gut kept telling me I screwed up.
Doc came in. He sat next to me. He smelled of grease, and his clothes were rumpled. He must have come straight from the carnival lot. “The story is that Parris ran off.” He sat a bag next to me. “I brought you some clean clothes.”
He took a sip of my coffee. “I sneaked in to see Myra for a minute.”
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
“She’s breathing better. They’re going to move her out of ICU in the morning. She’ll be off the breathing machine. You can visit her.” Doc stuffed his hands in his pockets.
I nodded listlessly.
“Any word about Craig?” Doc looked exhausted.
“You were right when you first looked at him. His liver was shredded. They were surprised he made it to the hospital. He’s still in surgery. No news since midnight.”
“Whatever Sam did is what got Craig to the hospital.”
I made a noncommittal noise. “You guys don’t have to wait. I’ll be all right.”
“We’re not going anywhere.” Amanda said. She arranged herself on the couch. Doc took the other.
A while later, a nurse came in. “Mrs. Darren?” I jumped up and stood stiffly. Amanda and Doc were at my shoulders. “The Doctor says the surgery has gone well. They’re closing him up now. Mister Darren will be in recovery for about three hours, and you should be able to see him when they take him to his room. If you want to go home, we can call you.”
I took a deep breath. “I’ll wait.” My blood began to flow again, and I was able to open my eyes all the way.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I sat next to Craig, watching him sleep. Now that he was going to make it, I should have felt better, but I didn’t. I had sent a man to die. Granted, he was a sadistic maniac. Nonetheless, what kind of person did that make me?
“What do you mean Mrs. Darren is already in with him?” I heard the gruff voice clear down the hall in Craig’s room. “We just informed his family.”
“Great, now I need to call my mom,” Craig said groggily.
“I thought you were still out.”
“Assholes can wake the dead. The loud one is Bailey. He’s in charge of the Parris case.”
“Let me handle him.”
A bald man with a stupid looking handlebar mustache, followed by a rather handsome, slender black man, stormed into the room. “Darren, who’s this woman?” he asked loudly.
I’d read somewhere that depression is anger without enthusiasm. As down as I was about what I had done to Parris, Bailey’s big mouth reasserted some of my enthusiasm. “What’s it to you?” I glared at Bailey, putting myself between the bed and the man. “And what do you think you’re doing shouting in this hospital?” I said in a tight whisper. “This man just came out of nine hours of surgery. You march your happy little ass out of this room, or I’ll call security.” My hands were on my hips. I was in full-blown Momma bear mode.
Baldy looked at his partner, who shrugged, his eyes wide. They both looked at Craig, who grinned like a pale raccoon.
“Go on…get.” I started toward them, and they backed out of the doorway. I looked back and gave Craig a wink as I stepped into the hall.
Noticing my narrowed eyes, the black agent started, “Miss, I’m Agent Johnson, and this is Agent Bailey of the FBI. We’re here to see Agent Darren. We were wondering why you’re representing yourself as his wife.”
My hands returned to my hips. “Well, gentlemen, since Agent Darren was wounded protecting me, and since the worthless police of this town didn’t send over any protection for Agent Darren, even though the man who kidnapped me and knifed him is on the loose…I figured I needed to be here.” My glare dared them to say anything. They looked everywhere but at me. I always thought FBI agents had more moxie. “Saying I was his wife was the only way I could stay and protect him. Now, can I see your credentials?”
The agents looked at each other and dutifully brought out their badges. I looked at each carefully. “So, what’re you going to do now?”
“We’d like to talk with Agent Darren,” Bailey said. “We appreciate you looking after him, but we can take it from here.”
“I’ll see if he’s strong enough to talk with you.” I ducked through the door and shut it in Bailey’s face.
Craig’s face twisted in a grimace. He shuddered slightly. I rushed to the bed.
“Are you all right?” I put my hand to his forehead.
“You get ‘em, tiger,” he said. “Did you see Bailey’s face? Priceless.”
I realized the shudders were him trying not to laugh. “Shakespeare said, ‘It is a naughty world.’ I feel obligated to do my part to prove him right,” I said.
Craig shuddered again. “Don’t make me laugh.” He took a few calming breaths, holding his stitched side. “You better let them in.”
Epilogue
Myra was still in the hospital when the carnival headed out to the next fair. Zach the crow sat on my shoulder as we watched the trucks roll out of the fairgrounds. My brother abandoned me, traveling on with the show. Tom and Mister D promised to look after Sam, so I wasn’t worried…at least not too worried.
The weather was getting chilly. I wrapped my warmest wool shawl more snuggly around me and went inside to make some soup. Soup is the best cure for loneliness.
I parked my motor home in a Wal-Mart parking lot a block from the hospital. When Myra was ready, we’d head to Florida. I was glad Zach decided to stay with me. Apparently, he enjoyed fighting seagulls for scraps dr
opped in the neighborhood parking lots.
I told Craig what I had done to Parris. He didn’t believe me. I didn’t blame him. I knew it would sound strange to anyone not familiar with how weird the world really is. Craig was still weak, so I didn’t argue my case. If we still knew each other when he was stronger, I would give him the full scoop on what I am.
On Craig’s last night in the hospital, I crawled into his bed, and we gingerly held each other.
“Our second romantic night together,” Craig said. “I’m so happy, I might pop a stitch.”
“Any night with you is romantic.” I snuggled under his arm on his good side. “You’re my white knight.” After a few minutes, I continued, “It’s too bad our lives are so different.”
“They’re not so different,” Craig said. He softly petted my hair.
“Yeah, you work in an office in Cleveland. I work in a tent and travel like a Bedouin. Not different at all.” I cared for him as much as I’d ever cared for anyone, but I had to be honest with myself. We could never live together.
“We could make it work.” The catch in his voice said how hard he was trying to believe his own words.
“We could try.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s start with keeping in touch while you recover.” I hugged him awkwardly, trying not to irritate his wound.
Craig sighed. “That’ll be a start.” He kissed the top of my head.
We were too different. My tears moistened his hospital gown. We spent a second night in each other’s arms. Well, most of the night. About 3:00 a.m., a nurse came in and kicked me out of the hospital. So much for romance.
Craig’s parents came the next day. They were taking him back to Cleveland to recuperate. When I met Joe and Betty, I saw why he was the kind of man he was. They finished each other’s sentences and unconsciously held hands when they were near each other.
I was on my best behavior with them. They seemed to like me. Then again, maybe they were just being polite.
It was three more weeks before the doctor mentioned Myra leaving the hospital. I was in the room while the doctor was checking her out. I had to make a run to the bathroom, and the doctor heard me throwing up. “Are you all right, young lady?” he asked through the door
“I’ve been a little off a couple of days. It’s nothing serious.” I was embarrassed.
The doctor gave me an intense look. “I’d feel better if you had a check-up. Myra’s immune system is very fragile right now. I’m not comfortable with her traveling with you if you’re getting sick. Let me do a couple of blood tests just to be careful.”
I agreed, and it cost me about a half-gallon of blood ransom to get Myra out of the hospital on time. I wasn’t worried about what they’d find in my blood. I never get sick for long.
The doctor asked me to his office to give me the results of the tests. “Well, Miss Land, it doesn’t look like you have any infections.”
“You could have told me that at the hospital, when you came to see Myra,” I said. I was a little exasperated. I had to pay a cab to get to his office.
“Well, I understand you were kidnapped about a month ago.” He had that kindly doctor look, which should have got him a spot on a soap opera.
“Yes, but what does that have to do with my tests?”
“You had a rape kit done?”
“They said I wasn’t raped and had no diseases.” I was genuinely puzzled.
The doctor had a nice smile when he looked relieved. “Then, I have some good news for you…you’re pregnant.”
About the Author:
Skeeter Enright, is the pen name of a ‘collector of experiences’. Formerly a scientific researcher, these days she is a science teacher.
Skeeter knows a good adventure having lived through several. With three fourths of the world left to explore, she has lots of experiences yet to come. Between trips, she lives on a farm in Ohio which includes weird birds, and a confused pig.
Check out her website: http://skeeterenright.weebly.com/
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Experiencing grief is a part of human nature, but what can be said for those who control death itself? The fate of humanity all rests with one girl, but she’s not in the best place in her life to make responsible decisions. A Reaper, only one of many who judge human souls, shows her a world where lives can be saved or snuffed out on a whim like cheap cigarettes, and suddenly the line between good and evil is blurred. The world rests on the edge of a Reaper’s scythe, but how long until it’s torn asunder?
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