by Gail Dayton
"I am very pleased to meet you, Eli." She made the turn that brought her to the maze of entrances and found the sign directing the way to the emergency entrance. "I'm Marilyn Ballard."
"Marilyn. I r'member."
"Good." She parked the car in a non-ambulance spot and pocketed the keys. "So maybe your brains aren't too scrambled."
Eli opened his door and was trying to get out when Marilyn made it around to help him. He gasped when he put his left foot down and immediately she put her shoulder under his arm.
"Lean on me," she said, kicking the car door shut. "Don't put any weight on it. You don't know how bad those sons of bitches might have hurt you."
"'M okay," he protested. But Marilyn noted that he didn't reject her help.
Before they got through the doors, hospital personnel had noticed them and appeared with a wheelchair and questions about Eli's condition. Marilyn was able to give them his name and a few sketchy details of the incident, but little more before Eli vanished into the depths of the ER.
She could leave now, she thought, as she turned back into the waiting room. She'd brought him here, made sure he would be properly tended. Her responsibility was done. So why did she linger? Why was she pacing in the waiting room instead of outside getting in her car to drive home?
Maybe because there was nothing at home to draw her. It was empty. Barren. A one-room efficiency with bath, nothing more than a place to lay her head when living alone at the house out in Hillside had become too difficult. Julie was gone, off to college with her scholarship to Penn State. Marilyn was on her own now.
Eli interested her. Nothing else had in far too long. After Bill died, Julie had needed her, and for her sake, Marilyn had smiled and kept on doing the things she always did. She planted her petunias and impatiens in the spring and put mums out in the fall. She cooked pot roast and rosemary chicken, baked cookies when the occasion called. But she'd just been doing things to make Julie happy and give her a sense of security. Somewhere between Bill's death and Julie's departure for college, Marilyn had lost any sense of herself.
She had to find it again. She wanted, suddenly, desperately, to feel something again. Anything. She didn't think she'd been depressed. She had no urge to lie in bed all day or burst into tears at odd moments. She'd just been...drifting. As if she'd simply checked out of her life and let her body go on without her. Was that depression? She didn't know. But when Julie had moved out, Marilyn had gradually realized that she was a stranger in her own life.
Changes had to be made. So she'd made them, almost randomly. Her apartment was part of that, though she hadn't sold the house and didn't know if she would. The volunteer tutoring at the Youth Center was another part. Sometimes the kids--mostly older teens--excited her with their eagerness to learn. Sometimes they frustrated her so much she wanted to bang their heads against the wall in hopes of banging some learning into them. But either way, they made her feel.
So did Eli. Marilyn didn't quite know what exactly it was that he made her feel. He intrigued her, fascinated her. Not like that. Not in a sexual or even a romantic way. He couldn't be much older than Julie, for heaven's sake. Besides, it was entirely possible he was gay--though somehow that didn't seem to fit.
Maybe it was curiosity that drew her. Maybe it was all that black leather, that aura of danger that floated around him. Or maybe it was the sense she had that he didn't quite know how to react to her. Whatever it was, from the minute he'd appeared out of nowhere behind her on the street, Eli Court had made her feel alive.
How long had it been since she felt that way? Four years, at the very least. Had it been longer? Did it matter?
Probably not. Doubtless Eli wasn't at all intrigued by her in return. But she was going to wait anyway. She didn't have anything better to do. She would stay long enough to make sure he was all right, make sure he had a way home and then she'd let him tell her goodbye.
Mind made up, Marilyn strode to the desk. "Can you tell me how Eli Court is?"
A nurse standing nearby looked up. "Are you his mother?"
Before Marilyn could deny it, the nurse caught her arm and tugged. Marilyn went.
"Maybe you'll have better luck talking sense into Mr. Court than we have," the nurse said, pushing open a door to show Eli attempting to get off the examining table.
"What do you think you're doing?" Marilyn strode in, pointing at the table. "You get right back up there and let these people do their jobs."
He didn't, of course. Just scowled at her. "'M fine."
"You can't talk as well as you did five minutes ago." She stood over him, looking down at him. "Please, Eli." She touched his hair lightly, afraid to touch him anywhere else. "Please?"
"They want to cut my coat." He spoke slowly and carefully.
"Then take it off. I'll help." Marilyn eased it over his shoulders and pulled gently on the cuffs to slip the sleeves over his hands. She could tell it hurt him, but other than a few deep breaths, he didn't let it show. When it was off, Marilyn folded the leather jacket over her arms.
"Now that your mother has your coat, will you let us check you out?" The doctor clicked her penlight several times in succession, impatient.
"She's not my mother." Eli leaned back and allowed the hospital personnel to position him on the table.
"Oh?" The doctor shot a quick glance at Marilyn who'd moved back out of the way, before shining her light into Eli's eyes.
He endured the examination with ill grace, opening his mouth for a flash of the penlight and a probe of his teeth. When the doctor moved on, examining a small cut behind his ear, he swallowed, a difficult task with his mouth so battered.
"No," Eli said in his broken-sounding voice. "We're lovers."
Two
***
The first laugh exploded out of Marilyn before she could catch it and shove it back down inside with the others. How long since that had happened, since she'd been surprised into laughter? How long since she'd really laughed? Not four years. Less than that, surely.
"You're not lovers?" The doctor had moved on to Eli's arms and hands. "Don't be so macho, Mr. Court. Tell me when it hurts."
"How 'bout I just faint?" he muttered, and swore when she probed his wrist.
Some demon of mischief took possession of Marilyn. She was sure Eli had made that outrageous claim to shock her, and he had. She still tingled with its electrical effect. She wanted to shock him back. "Actually, we are," she said. "Lovers. We've been seeing each other for months now. Very hush-hush."
The nurse had cut away Eli's T-shirt and now the doctor pressed down on one of the red-purple stripes across his abdomen. "Does that hurt?"
"Hell, yes, it hurts," Eli snapped. "Three bastards with Louisville Sluggers just used me for batting practice. Whattaya think? It's going to feel good?"
"Um--one of them had a tire iron, actually," Marilyn volunteered from her corner.
"What about here? Does it hurt?" The doctor pressed another spot, one of the few without discoloration.
"No, not really. Kind of an echo from all the other bruises, but not right there." Eli shifted position, turned his head to look at Marilyn. "We have to keep it quiet, right? I mean, you don't want your husband to find out, do you?"
Marilyn had to smile, feeling a little wistful. What if they really had been lovers for months? The game had acquired a painful edge, knowing there wasn't and could never be the least truth to it. "I'm a widow. I know I told you. Did you forget?"
He flushed and looked away in time to see the nurse approach his jeans with her scissors. "Don't cut. I can get them off myself."
He unsnapped the top with one hand and lowered the zip. Then he caught Marilyn's eye, daring her to watch as he used his thumbs to shove the jeans down over his hips, exposing black briefs. She took the dare, coming close again to claim his boots as they cut the laces and removed them. She set them by the door and returned for his jeans.
Eli held onto them, all but forcing her to meet his eyes. "I did forget,"
he said. "I'm sorry."
How could he forget something he never knew? But the apology was real. She saw it in his light blue eyes, that he was truly sorry for bringing back painful memories, or maybe for something only he knew. Marilyn brushed her fingers across his. "It was a long time ago." She spoke quietly, for his ears only, before she returned to her corner.
The doctor continued her probing examination down his legs to his feet. "Well, Mr. Court," she said, standing straight. "Those bastards you mentioned did a real number on you. I'm going to want x-rays pretty much head to toe. You're lucid enough I doubt there's a skull fracture, but there might be hairline damage. You definitely have a concussion.
"I think you've got at least one broken bone in your right wrist, probably in the arm as well, and I'm pretty sure your left tibia--the shin bone--is broken. Once we see the x-rays, we can decide where to go from there. Someone will be down soon to take you for your pictures." And the doctor departed to see the next patient on her list.
The nurse spread a blanket over Eli, and Marilyn was alone in the room with him. She sidled up next to his rolling bed. "Lovers, huh?"
He started to shrug and changed his mind. It obviously hurt. "You're not my mother."
"True." Marilyn smoothed his coat down over her arm, absent-mindedly enjoying the feel of the soft leather. "Though I doubt lovers was the first alternative that sprang to mind."
"How do you know? Maybe it was."
Marilyn laughed. Second time in less than half an hour. It might be a record. "Oh, I do like you, Eli Court. But I think your brain must have been more rattled than you realize, if you expect me to believe that."
His purple, swollen mouth tried to form a smile. "Hey, you like me. It could happen. You and me."
She ruffled her fingers carefully through his short, caramel-brown hair. He was pushing, trying to unnerve her by making her think he was interested in her sexually. Wouldn't work. "You can't shock me, Eli, and I won't scare off. I intend to make sure you let these people patch you back together, and that you have a way back home and someone to look after you when you get there. So you might as well call a halt to this game you're playing."
Eli let his eyes fall closed, drifting in the sensation of her fingers combing through his hair. It felt nice. Better than nice. If he didn't hurt so bad, he'd be rock hard. As it was, he still felt things stirring down there. He'd managed to protect the equipment, thank God.
Marilyn thought he was playing games. And he was. He wanted to shock her, convince her to leave. So why was he glad she was still here, running her fingers through his hair? It embarrassed him, wanting her. She was from another world. Another universe.
She said she liked him. Was that a game too? Another joke? Maybe not. She was still here. She said she wasn't going anywhere till the docs were through with him. If she really stayed, then he'd know she meant it.
"Is there someone I can call for you?" Her voice slid through him like her fingers through his hair and it took a minute for Eli to realize she'd spoken.
"What?" It was too hard to talk, too hard to pay attention.
"Someone to call? A friend? Relative? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?"
Eli's eyes snapped open at the last. Did she think he was gay? Might be better if she did, but the possibility bothered him. "Don't live here now."
"What about where you do live? Is there somebody who'll worry?"
He wanted to laugh at that idea, but it hurt too much. "Nobody."
"Well." Marilyn traced a feathersoft touch across his eyebrow. "I guess I'll have to take care of all the worrying."
Pete would worry, if he knew. So would old Fitz, so it was probably a good thing they didn't know. He didn't want them to know. Teresa would only worry about how it might affect her, which was not at all. He'd got her away safe before going back to warn Flash off, and she'd stay safe as long as she stayed where he put her. If she left there--that was on her own head.
At least Pete was out of it for good now. Fitz would look after the kid. Eli didn't have anyone he needed to worry about but himself. It felt kind of nice to know that somebody else was too.
"Excuse me, Mr. Court?" A plump middle-aged woman put her head through the door. "I'm with admitting. I just need to see about getting some information for our records, get you to sign a few things--"
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Marilyn said. "How do you expect him to sign anything? His arms are broken."
"'S okay." Eli caught her hand with his good one. "Relax, Marilyn." He pointed at the jacket in her hands. "My wallet. In front."
"Do you have your insurance card, Mr. Court?" the clerk asked, edging closer to him and away from Marilyn who fumbled through the pockets of his leather coat.
"No. No insurance." Eli took the wallet when Marilyn found it, but couldn't open it one-handed, left-handed. He gave it back to her.
"I do," Marilyn said. "I have insurance."
"No." Eli pointed at the wallet. "I'll pay. Cash." He pointed again, emphatically, when Marilyn just stared at him. "I'll pay."
Marilyn opened it as if she feared snakes might jump out and bite her, her eyes widening at the size of his bankroll. She pulled it out of the slot.
"How much?" He took the bills, ready to count them out.
"Oh no, Mr. Court." The clerk flushed red. "We can't do that here. Hospital rules. You can take care of that when you're discharged. If I could just have your driver's license? I'll make a copy and get your information off that."
Eli handed the money back to Marilyn. He had several thousand there, but he wasn't any too sure it would be enough for this bill. Still, it seemed to satisfy the clerk. He pointed at his license in its plastic window. Fingers trembling, Marilyn put the cash away and got out the license. The clerk vanished. Eli waited for Marilyn's explosion.
"Are you crazy?" She took a few steps away, whirled and came back, shaking the wallet at him. "Carrying this much cash? Those guys were trying to rob you, weren't they?"
He blinked at her. "Thought you'd want to know if I was a drug dealer or something."
She froze and blinked back. "Are you?"
Then she shook her head. "No. You're no dealer. Dealers don't run alone. They have bodyguards to keep from getting beat up and robbed. They don't rescue middle-aged women from muggers and they carry drugs to sell, which I know you don't have because I've already been through your pockets."
Eli let the tension run out of him, still shocked by her reaction. Not "where did you get the money," but "carrying so much cash will get you hurt." Who was this woman?
"If they'd wanted to rob me," he said, pronouncing the words carefully, "they'd have the money."
"They just wanted to hurt you, didn't they?" Marilyn's hand hovered over his face, close enough he could feel its warmth, but not touching.
Eli was startled to see tears in her eyes. She was crying. Over him?
With his good hand, he brushed his fingers across the back of her hand and pressed it to his cheek. It didn't hurt any more than he was already hurting, and suddenly he needed her touch, needed to feel her hand against his skin.
The door rattled with the admissions clerk's return and Marilyn sprang back, jerking her hand away. She jostled Eli's bruised face and he couldn't stop the gasp. But he was willing to pay the price. He'd had her touch. She'd given him her tears. No one had ever shed a single tear for him. Ever.
Marilyn took the license and slid it back in place. He could tell she was wiping away tears, though she had her back to him.
"You okay?" Eli asked when the clerk was gone. He wanted to get up, go to her.
"Fine." She turned around, smiling, but the tears' traces still showed.
"Want to leave?" He had to let her go if that was what she wanted. He'd made her cry.
"No." Marilyn swiped the back of her hand across a cheek. "That is, unless--are you sure there isn't someone I should call?"
"No one." He held his hand out to her and she took it, letting him draw her close. When she stood next to t
he bed, he reached up, moving slow and easy in case she didn't want it. She went still while Eli stroked his thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away the faint remaining dampness.
"Did you get it illegally?" she asked. "The money? Are the police looking for you?"
"No," he said, drawing back again. "There's no warrant. They don't even want me for questioning. I'm clean."
"Is the money?"
"It is now."
Marilyn frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It used to belong to some very bad people. Now it belongs to me."
"Is that who was beating you? The ones the money used to belong to?"
It hurt to smile, but he had to, a little. "No. They really were just a bunch of no-neck gay bashers. I'm pretty sure of that." Flash wouldn't have had time to set anything up. He didn't think. Eli had spoken to him only moments before the attack. Flash didn't move that fast.
"Are the bad people looking for you?"
"No. They're doing hard federal time."
"For what?"
Eli laced his fingers with Marilyn's again and she let him. "You don't want to know."
"You're probably right." She brushed his hair off his forehead with her other hand and he felt it fall right back down. "You're talking better."
"Takes practice to talk with lips like these. Or maybe I'm getting used to the hurt."
"Didn't they give you something for pain?"
"Can't, till they know what's wrong with my head. I'm okay." He floated over the pain as he'd done so many times before, but this time, he was anchored by Marilyn's hand.
"What do you want to do with your wallet while you're in x-ray?" She clasped his good hand between both of hers. "Do you think the hospital has a safe?"
"You keep it." He tried to focus on her face and managed, mostly.
"Eli, you don't know me from Adam. How do you know I won't disappear with all your money?"
She came into sharp focus then, Marilyn, with her dark, silver-sparkled waves and those smile lines around her snowcloud-blue eyes.
"I know you enough," he said. "You saved my life, Marilyn." He shook his hand free and touched her cheek, but he couldn't tell her how her tears got to him.
