Hell Without You

by Ranae Rose

  “And I think Jackie is living vicariously through you, Clementine,” Steve said. “She’s dying to get out of our apartment.” He grinned, and Jackie play-hit him on the arm.

  “Okay, so our place is a little cramped now that we’ve got Isabel. Can you blame me for wanting to upgrade? I’ll have to go back to work before we can consider moving any place more expensive, though.”

  “This seems like a good time for me to give you your present,” Clementine said, bending over and rummaging in her purse. “It’s not the deed to a penthouse, but it might cheer you up a little.” She pulled a small box wrapped in golden paper from her bag, unable to suppress a smile.

  There was no question that the gift would cheer Jackie up – in college, Jackie had kept a fireproof safe under her dorm bed just for her massive earring collection.

  She accepted the box with a grin. “You didn’t have to get me anything – I know you’re job hunting, and the fact that you drove all the way from Pennsylvania to celebrate with me is enough.” Still, she tore at the paper, revealing the box within.

  “I love them,” she said seconds later, cradling the box. “Thank you.”

  Clementine smiled. The drop-shaped earrings studded with aquamarine gemstones would complement Jackie’s complexion perfectly. That was why she hadn’t been able to resist splurging on them, even if they’d been a little expensive – she’d gotten them on sale, at least, from Willow Heights’ only jeweler.

  “In fact…” Jackie removed her current set of earrings, tucked them reverently into a small pocket in her purse, and put on her new ones. “How do they look?”

  Steve assured her they looked great, as did Clementine.

  “Now if only I can keep Isabel from getting ahold of them,” she said, sweeping her hair back over a shoulder. “She loves anything that sparkles.”

  The night stretched on, full of wine, delicious Spanish dishes Clementine would never find in Willow Heights, and Jackie’s laughter. It made her happy to see her friend enjoying herself so much, though her mind kept straying to Donovan. How was his hand – would he take a pain pill before bed, or would his natural stubbornness lead him to skip it while she was gone?

  At least he’d promised her he’d take off work again the next day – the last thing his healing hand needed was to be wrapped around a wrench all day.

  For the rest of the night, her mind was divided between thoughts of him and what was going on around her. She sipped her wine slowly, secretly afraid to drink too much, lest it leave her feeling sluggish in the morning. She wanted to get through her rental hunting with Jackie as quickly as possible. As she lifted an olive to her lips, she tried not to wonder how badly she’d miss Donovan while actually living in DC if she ached for him this badly now.

  It was after eleven when she exited the restaurant with Jackie and Steve, heading toward a waiting cab.

  “Anywhere else you want to head, baby?” Steve squeezed Jackie’s knee, and Clementine experienced a bittersweet pang of longing as she imagined Donovan’s hand on her body.

  Jackie – who’d had more wine than anyone – giggled. “No, I had a great time at the restaurant. Let’s just head home. Clementine and I have got a busy morning ahead of us.”

  “Whatever you say.” Steve gave the driver their address, and they were off.

  They’d almost reached the building when Clementine’s phone rang.

  Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the name on the screen. “Donovan?”

  “Hey.”

  “Is everything all right?” It was late – she couldn’t help but be worried.

  “I’m fine. Listen, I’m at Dulles. I’m heading out of town for a while.”

  Clementine’s stomach plummeted. “Dulles?” She snapped her gaze to the window, as if she could possibly see the airport, which was miles away, technically in Virginia. “How did you get there, and where in the world are you going?”

  “Mike gave me a ride. I’m heading to Miami. My friend Ricardo – he got into some trouble. He’s in jail and I’m gonna go bail him out, help him get his head on straight.”

  Her stomach twisted. Miami seemed a million miles away, and she remembered his story about sleepwalking and getting into a street fight. “What kind of trouble – is he okay?”

  “He’ll be all right. He’s a good guy. He just gets a little hot under the collar, sometimes, if you provoke him.”

  “Provoke him to...?”

  “I bought a ticket for the first flight out of here to Miami. It’s about to board. I’ll give you a call when I touch down – or do you want me to wait until morning?”

  “Call me when you arrive,” she said, biting her inner lip. “Definitely.” Head spinning, she said the next thing that came to mind. “You’re going to miss your classes. At the college, I mean.”

  “That’s not important. Not compared to this.”

  She couldn’t argue. “Don’t forget to call me.”

  “All right. I gotta go.”

  “Be safe, Donovan… I love you, but I’ll kill you myself if you get yourself hurt.”

  “I love you, too.” There was no trace of a joke in his voice.

  His words sent a ripple of pleasure over her consciousness, but it was quickly chased by concern so potent it hurt. “Make sure you change out your bandages daily.” It’d be hard, with just one hand.

  “I can handle it. Bye, Clementine.”

  When she hung up, Jackie and Steve were watching her with identical expressions of mingled worry and bewilderment.

  On second thought, maybe Jackie looked a little more bewildered than Steve. After all, Clementine had just told Donovan she loved him. The last time she’d spoken to Jackie about him, all she’d said was that she’d been staying with him and that things had been tense.

  “Is everything okay?” Jackie eventually asked, her voice soft.

  “Donovan has to make an unexpected trip out of state. I’m a little worried about him – he has an injured hand – but I’m sure everything will be okay.” She forced a smile – no way was she going to put a damper on Jackie’s birthday.

  “Do you need to leave?” Steve asked. “We can take you to the airport if there’s an emergency. Just let me drink a cup or two of coffee and I’ll be good to drive.”

  “No, no.” Clementine tucked her phone back into her purse as they pulled up in front of the apartment complex. “Nothing’s changed. I’ll still be staying overnight, if that’s okay with you two.”

  “Of course it is.” Jackie smiled, and her new earrings sparkled in the street-lit dimness as she stepped out of the cab. “I’ll keep you busy tomorrow – help you keep your mind off your worry.”

  “That’d be great,” Clementine lied, knowing she’d worry no matter what.

  On Jackie’s couch, she slept with her phone on vibrate, clutched against her chest.

  * * * * *

  Clementine breathed a sigh as she walked through the front door, having let herself in with the key behind the loose brick. Instead of returning it to its hiding place, she slid it onto her key ring. She’d need it – Donovan hadn’t said when he’d be returning from Florida.

  He’d called her the night before when his plane had landed, then again that morning. He’d rescued Ricardo from jail and had said he intended to stay as long as Ricardo needed him. When she’d asked how long he expected that to be, he’d said at least a few days.

  She’d tried to be understanding, had tried not to nag, but the truth was that she felt even more bent out of shape than Donovan had been the first time she’d left him to spend the weekend in DC. He’d been afraid that she wouldn’t return … and she couldn’t help but fear the same thing now. Miami was just so far away, and her inner worry-wart kept reminding her that Donovan had said Ricardo lived in a sketchy part of town.

  Or at least, he had when he and Donovan had lived together. Did he still?

  Donovan was more than capable of handling himself, and it was impossible not to admire what a loyal frie
nd he was … but accidents could happen to anybody. Especially someone who was prone to sleepwalking when he became overly-stressed.

  And it was all too easy to imagine that being there for Ricardo might be stressful, especially considering how much Donovan obviously cared for him. There was Ricardo’s impending trial, for one – he was being charged with aggravated battery, the result of a confrontation gone wrong.

  Apparently, a couple of would-be thieves had broken into the body shop that Ricardo had recently inherited from his uncle. Ricardo lived in the apartment above it and had been woken by the sound of two men breaking and entering.

  And then he’d gone ballistic.

  Donovan had said that Ricardo suffered with PTSD, worse than he did, and that he couldn’t be blamed for reacting violently to two criminals sneaking around in the dark. But the criminals hadn’t been armed, and they’d fled when Ricardo had confronted them inside the building.

  He’d chased them out onto the street, where he’d caught and beaten one. Now the thief – a long-time offender with a track record of larceny – was in the hospital, and Ricardo was fresh out of jail, for the time being.

  Clementine’s head spun when she thought about it all. A part of her wanted to jump on a plane and rush to Donovan’s side, as ridiculous as that was. But she didn’t have the money and she knew he didn’t need her getting in the way – it wasn’t like she could understand what he and Ricardo had gone through, or the bond they shared. As agonizing as it was, she’d just have to wait and hope for the best for both of them.

  She’d just pulled a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge when a knock came at the door. Her heart leapt at first, but she knew it couldn’t be Donovan. It was probably Hugh Jeffries, back to take another swing at convincing Donovan to sell the house. Not in the mood to deal with that, she put her drink down and marched to the door, ready to politely but firmly turn him away.

  It wasn’t Hugh Jeffries who stood on the doorstep.

  “Mom?” Every muscle in Clementine’s body went stiff as she stood in the gap between the half-open door and its frame.

  “Clementine. I heard you were here.” With her bottle-blonde hair brushed straight, as sleek as her khaki slacks and expensive-looking wrap sweater, Clementine’s mother, Pamela, stood with her arms crossed, flashing a forced-looking smile that exposed overly-white teeth.

  The way she’d changed her appearance – everything artificially polished and expensive-looking – made it easier for Clementine to distrust her, to look at her without seeing a trace of the woman who’d raised her during her younger years, before she’d met and married her step-father. In the years afterward, she’d changed dramatically, until she’d become the woman who sided with her new husband in everything, even to the detriment of her own daughter, her only child.

  “I guess news travels fast in a small town,” Clementine replied, not caring that bitterness had crept into her voice. All she could think about was the day when she’d gone to her mother and confessed what Trevor had done to her. She’d been embarrassed to tell anyone – even her own mother – but she’d never expected to be disbelieved.

  And that was exactly what had happened. Her mother had – to Clementine’s horror – immediately consulted her step-father, and the pair of them had tried to convince Clementine that she’d misinterpreted Trevor’s actions, that she must’ve made some kind of a mistake. How could she think he’d do anything like what she’d accused him of, they’d asked. And didn’t she feel bad for hurting him – for scratching his face?

  They’d actually told her to apologize, and Clementine’s blood still boiled at the thought.

  Donovan had been the only one who’d believed her, and when he’d taken matters into his own hands, Pamela and Robert had threatened to destroy him, to ruin his chances at whatever future he might’ve been able to build for himself after growing up as the son of a junkie in Shady Side.

  Never mind that Trevor had assaulted her. Never mind that he’d gotten exactly what he’d deserved. They’d always hated that she’d associated with Donovan anyway – he’d embarrassed them – and had jumped at the chance to sever her ties with him.

  “What are you doing here?” Pamela stared at the house like she couldn’t imagine what appeal it might hold. “You know we have several guest rooms at the house, if you wanted to visit Willow Heights.”

  Clementine made a conscious effort to loosen her jaw. “I’m here for work-related reasons. Temporarily. And I have no interest in visiting.”

  “You found a job?”

  “I’ve had some interviews.” She begrudged giving her mother even that information. Her life was hers now – hers to control, hers to live … and she didn’t like sharing the details with someone who should’ve loved her more than anyone but had chosen a rich asshole of a husband instead.

  “And you’re staying with that boy…” Pamela trailed off, frowning.

  That boy? Clementine’s pulse rang in her ears. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so mad. Thank God Donovan was away…

  “I don’t know what boy you’re referring to, but this house belongs to Donovan Kemp, and I know he wouldn’t want you here. You know that too. Have some respect and leave.”

  “Clementine, I came here to let you know that you’re welcome at the house.” She said it like she was bestowing some kind of gift. “We never got to celebrate your graduation and the completion of your internship – we could do something now. Trevor is in town, visiting from Connecticut for a week, and—”

  “Don’t you dare talk to me about Trevor,” Clementine said, feeling her temper and her pride slip away fast. “I can’t believe you’d show up here and mention him to me.” Her hands shook, and she clenched them into fists where her mother couldn’t see – one behind the door and the other against the frame. “I won’t be visiting, and I don’t want you to come here again. It’s Donovan’s property now, and you’re not welcome. I hope I’m clear, because if anyone from your house shows up here, I’ll have the police remove them for trespassing.”

  Pamela’s face transformed into an expression of combined offence and flippancy, and she opened her mouth as if to say that Clementine couldn’t – wouldn’t – dare.

  Clementine closed the door abruptly, unwilling to listen to another word.

  After watching her mother drive away in a shining luxury car that seemed out of place on Willow Heights’ rural roads, she retreated upstairs, alone. Though she was glad Donovan hadn’t been there for the exchange – it probably would’ve been too much for his temper – now she wished more than anything that he was there.

  * * * * *

  Clementine’s phone rang for the second time that day, shattering the house’s empty silence. The first call had been from the landlord of her cousin’s townhouse, who’d let her know that the repairs would be finished in two days. She’d informed the landlord that she wouldn’t need the accommodations, after all.

  Donovan would be happy, and she hoped it was him calling – she’d hoped that every time her phone had gone off within the past three days.

  His name wasn’t on the screen. Instead, an unfamiliar number was displayed. Unfamiliar, but she recognized the area code. “Hello?”

  Suddenly nervous, she sat back in her chair at the kitchen table, leaning away from the plate that bore a handful of pretzels and a half-finished sandwich.

  “Ms. Lettvin?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes?”

  The man on the other end of the line introduced himself as an HR professional with Kellogg-Hart Investments, the company she’d interviewed with the week before in DC. For a split second, she thought wistfully of her day at the museums with Donovan, then her mind turned to job prospects. If they were calling her, that probably meant she’d landed the job, didn’t it?

  She broke into a light sweat as the man reminded her of her interview, briefly reiterating what position she’d applied for – as if she’d forgotten. She’d hoped for this call, feeling more con
fident about her chances than with many other positions because although she was flexible when it came to job options, she’d focused on value investing while studying for her MBA.

  “I’m calling to offer you the job,” he finally said. “If you’re available, you can start on Wednesday.”

  Her heart slammed against her ribs – the day after tomorrow. She had a job. A good one. “Wednesday will be perfect. Who should I ask for when I arrive?”

  Minutes later, she was staring at her darkened phone screen, her half-finished lunch shoved to the side. Without taking another bite, she rose and climbed upstairs.

  In the bedroom with the fleur-de-lis wallpaper, she hefted her suitcase onto the bed and began rummaging through it. There was no real need to choose an outfit for her first day of work right away, but it was something to do – something to be excited over. Willow Heights was boring as hell without Donovan.

  It didn’t take her long to settle on a pencil skirt and one of her favorite blouses. She knew which shoes she’d wear, too, but laying out the ensemble at the foot of the bed didn’t bring the satisfaction she’d imagined. Yes, she was glad to have landed the job … but not as glad as she should’ve been.

  She’d cautioned herself against talking about the jobs she’d applied for in PA for Donovan’s sake, but maybe she’d gotten her hopes up just as much as he had. Now it was final – she’d be working in DC, just like she’d figured – just like she’d planned. It was too far away to commute to and from Willow Heights, and Donovan wouldn’t be coming with her. Suddenly, the capital seemed as far away as Miami.

  * * * * *

  When Clementine’s phone rang at a quarter after three in the morning, a shiver raced down her spine, and not because she had to let the blankets slip off her shoulders in order to retrieve it. The number was unfamiliar, but that did little to assuage her worry. “Hello?”

  “Is this Clementine?” a male voice asked.

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “Ricardo Suarez – Donovan’s friend in Miami.”