Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  “Do you have your pills?” She yelled over the noise of the crowd.

  He ignored her question, too busy struggling to catch his breath.

  “Where are we?” Claudia hollered, straining her neck to see past Thomas and into the street.

  “Somewhere near the science building, I think.” Winnie yelled back, knowing they hadn’t gone far from the coffee house. Panicked, she swallowed hard. How would they ever find their way back to the dorm? Where would they be safe?

  Thomas tried the door of the building and was relieved to find it unlocked. Working to push back against the crowd, he maneuvered the girls through the door, and then pulled it closed. Without waiting to see if anyone followed, he coughed and choked, ushering the girls up the hall, checking classroom doors as he went. Behind them they heard the door open and more people rush in, shouting and crying. Thomas pushed the girls into the first unlocked door, a bathroom, not even caring whether it was for ladies or men. They staggered across the room, and Thomas fell into a heap against the wall, gasping for breath.

  Winnie knelt at his side and loosened his tie. She pulled off her jacket and balled it up to put under his head, feeling helpless.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Claudia asked.

  “I don’t know,” Winnie cried in frustration. “We’ve got to figure out how to get him help.”

  Thomas was past speaking now -- struggling for every breath.

  “Doesn’t he have some kind of medicine?” Claudia asked, her hands fluttering helplessly.

  Winnie squeezed his hand. “He does but not with him. They don’t help much anyway.”

  Claudia went to the door and cracked it open. Noise and shouting people running past was all she could see, so she closed the door.

  Winnie stood, wringing her hands. “I’m going to try and get to a phone.”

  “Who will you call?” Claudia objected. It must be almost 11:00 by now. And how will anybody even be able to get to us? Why don’t we have some kind of an emergency number to call at times like this?”

  “I don’t know!” Winnie shouted in frustration, panicked past the point of reason. “But I think there’s a pay phone in the lobby. I’ll try to get to it.”

  Claudia stared at her dumbly, then scrounged through her pockets, looking for a dime.

  “Wyn-ona,” Thomas gasped, trying to reach the waist band of his trousers, but a fit of coughing overtook him and he doubled over.

  Winnie searched through his pockets with shaking hands, finally coming up with a dime. As she stood to leave, Thomas grabbed the hem of her skirt.

  “Be— careful,” he gasped.

  “I’ll try,” she promised, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “You try to relax.”

  When she neared the door, Claudia stepped in her way. “What should I do for him?” she hissed motioning toward Thomas.

  Winnie’s mind spun, coming up with nothing but more panic. Finally, she turned to her friend and clutched the arm of her torn sweater with cold fingers. Her eyes met Claudia’s, both of them more afraid than they had ever been. “There’s nothing you can do. Do you understand?”

  They stood there, eyes locked. No more words passed between them but both knew that people died from asthma all the time, and Thomas may well die too before Winnie could get help.

  * * *

  Bella cried and pounded on Tara’s shoulder as her mother carried her up the stairs. “Want daddy!” she cried over and over, stoking up Tara’s own feelings on the matter.

  Nearing her wits’ end with the filthy child, Tara pushed open the bathroom door and closed it behind her. Bella continued to scream, banging on the door and calling for her father. Tara genuinely hoped they had no guests in the house, but she had no idea if they did or not. Even the thought of Blanche hearing the toddler throw a fit was embarrassing. Again, she felt like an outsider in her own home. She had no place to hide, no privacy, no place out of public view. Fighting back her own tears, she wiped out the tub and turned on the water to run the baby a bath.

  A screaming wrestling match ensued as she struggled to undress the fitful child. The baby’s hands and feet, maybe even her head, banged against the door, the wall, and the tub. By the time Bella was undressed, Tara was crying and screaming as well. “Stop it, Bella,” she hollered over the baby’s screams. “A bath will make you feel better!”

  But the little girl was strong and had her mother’s temper. She flailed in all directions, arching her back, intent on getting her daddy. Her little hands grabbed the neck of Tara’s shirt, pulling hard, and popped off three buttons.

  Tara used one hand to turn off the water, then concentrated, using all her strength to lift the fighting baby into the tub, but Bella would have none of it. Both Tara and the baby collapsed on the bath mat. Tara had to wonder where the child got her strength and longevity from, because she was about done in. But there was no solution to the situation other than to get the grimy baby in the tub, then get her to sleep. Justin certainly wasn’t any help, nor did he seem to care about their distress.

  The bathroom door opened and Blanche’s head popped in. Her mouth made a round letter O as the door swung the rest of the way open.

  Tara knew she must look a sight there on the floor, crying and mad, with the grubby, naked, screaming little girl, half ripping her clothes off.

  Blanche collected her wits and stepped into the room. “Can I help?”

  Embarrassed to be caught in such a state, feeling like the worst mother ever, Tara scrambled to stand, holding Bella out at arm’s reach. Bella, however, managed to grab a handful of Tara’s hair, yanking it hard.

  “No, we’re fine,” Tara hollered over the baby’s screams, her head pulled to one side as she grappled to make Bella’s hand release her hair.

  “Want daddy!” Bella shrieked, causing both women to wince at the pitch and volume of her squeals.

  “Really, it’s no trouble,” Blanche assured Tara, “Maybe a friendly face will soothe her.”

  Bella thrashed hard, knocking her head into Tara’s, which in turn knocked Tara’s head against the wall. Stars floated in front of Tara’s eyes and pain blossomed across her scalp. “I said I’m fine,” she bellowed, with tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Obviously concerned about leaving Tara in such a state, Blanche hesitated.

  “Please just leave,” Tara sobbed, working to get a better hold on the screaming baby.

  “Oh, honey—” Blanche said, her eyes filled with pity and her voice quiet. She reached out to help.

  But in Tara’s frame of mind, she couldn’t bear to be scrutinized and found lacking. “Just get—get out!” She yelled, her voice cracking. “Can’t I even have a breakdown without you stepping in? This is never going to work!”

  Taken aback, Blanche withdrew her hand.

  “I can’t do this!” Tara sobbed. “I want my husband, and I want my old life back!”

  Offended, Blanche felt blindly behind her for the door knob, her hand shaking. “I’m so sorry, I’ll pack my things and leave in the morning,” she said quietly, then she backed out and closed the door.

  Tara turned with a huff and plopped Bella into the tub. The child sputtered and struggled for a brief moment, then realized she was in her favorite place, the bath. She quit thrashing and tried a tentative splash, then another and another. Now content to make a mess, she happily splashed water all over the bathroom and her mother.

  Exhausted and sobbing, Tara’s shoulders heaved, her breath coming in hiccups, as she closed the toilet seat with a thunk and flopped onto it. What had she done?

  Chapter Twenty

  The timer on Winnie’s oven interrupted her memory. In an emotional daze, she rose from her stool and turned it off. It took another minute or two for her to shake off the fear and confusion enough to collect her pot holders and remove the pies from the oven.

  “Thank goodness I set the timer,” she huffed. “I would have sat there while the pies burned to a crisp!”

  Still lost in thought,
she waved a pot holder over the pies. Her cat, Elvis, padded into the room and wound around her ankle, but the recollection had been so real, so vivid, that Winnie didn’t even notice the little cat. Her pulse rate increased as she remembered working her way through the science building, trying to get to the phone. Evidently, many people had sought refuge there, because the halls were crowded with fearful students who had been caught up in the riot.

  She clutched Thomas’s dime in her sweaty palm, afraid she’d lose it. When she reached the phone, it was with shaking hands that she dropped in the dime and waited breathlessly for the dial tone. Carefully, she dialed the number for the men’s dorm where Roy lived, knowing she didn’t have another dime if she dialed wrong. It rang once, twice, then three times -- the moments ticking by. Just when she thought she could no longer keep the panic at bay, someone finally answered.

  Frantic and working to keep her voice even, she asked for Roy. She knew she had called a pay phone in the hall of the dorm and anyone could answer; she just hoped that whoever answered knew who Roy was and was willing to go find him. After what felt like an hour, she heard her friend’s familiar voice on the other end of the line.

  “Roy, it’s Wynona,” she gasped.

  “Thank God!” he cried. “I’ve been worried sick. Where are you? Is Claudia with you?”

  “Roy, do you know what is happening out here?”

  “Yes, where are you?”

  “Uh,” for a moment she couldn’t remember anything, and she glanced around her in alarm. “Um we’re – we’re in the science building. Thomas got us this far, and we’ve been hiding in a bathroom.”

  “Good, that’s good. What floor are you on?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t even—um, the first floor. I guess. I don’t even know which way we came in.”

  “Okay, stay there, don’t leave that bathroom, you hear me?” He said.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m coming for you. Don’t leave that bathroom.”

  Tears sprang into her eyes. “I’m not there now… I had to find a phone.”

  “I know,” he said, in a hurry to get moving.

  “But wait, Roy—”

  “What?” he asked, sounding impatient.

  “It’s Thomas,” she cried, tears flowing “He’s having an asthma attack. It’s bad. Really bad.”

  “It’s okay, Wynona, do you hear me?” He said, working to sound reassuring.

  “No, it’s not okay,” she screamed into the phone. “Thomas is going to die if we don’t get him out of here!”

  “I know that, and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “Hurry!” She yelled, and the line went dead.

  She stood stiff with the receiver in one hand, shaking from head to foot, and feeling very much alone. Finally, she hung up the phone and took a deep breath. She had to get back to Thomas.

  More people had gathered in the halls, and it took her even longer to get back to the bathroom. When she hurried through the door, she was surprised to see more students crowded into the room. One girl knelt by Thomas, along with Claudia, and was speaking to him in calm tones.

  “How is he?” Winnie asked, dropping to his side. His color didn’t look good, but he seemed to be getting some air.

  “He’s a little panicked but doing okay,” the girl said. “I’m a nursing student,” she offered in explanation.

  Winnie’s shoulders came down a notch, thankful that someone with some training was there to help. The girl had found a paper cup and was having Thomas sip hot water from the tap. Winnie knew that tap water wasn’t going to help him much; he needed it really hot and steaming. After breathing the smoke and dust as they ran, she knew it wouldn’t be enough to relieve the attack.

  It seemed like hours that they sat on the floor and murmured words of comfort to Thomas. Dim daylight shone through the small, frosted-glass, window near the ceiling by the time Roy burst through the door.

  “Here you are!” he puffed. His eyes landed only momentarily on his sister, then Wynona, and finally Thomas. Once he was assured they were okay, he took in the window, the stalls, the other students, and the door.

  Winnie’s gaze followed his, wondering what he was seeing.

  Once he had assessed the situation, Roy knelt by Thomas. “How are you doing?” He asked, his words clipped and concise.

  Winnie knew Roy didn’t like her boyfriend, he had said as much to her more than once, but his demeanor today was strictly business.

  Thomas didn’t answer; he was too busy concentrating on taking even, shallow breaths.

  Roy stood and pulled Winnie to one corner. Claudia followed.

  “What does he need? Is there medicine somewhere that will help him?” Roy asked.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, with tears springing into her eyes. “He has p—pills,” she hiccupped, unable to stem the flow of tears. “But he told me they don’t help much. I’ve never seen him like—like this.”

  “Calm down and look at me,” Roy demanded, his words firm and his voice cold. “We don’t have the luxury of crying right now. Pull yourself together!”

  Winnie’s back stiffened as she angrily retorted, “I am together! We’ve been here all night!”

  “There we go,” he said, his voice softer. “That’s the girl I know. Now—” he glanced around the room once more. “I’m going to get you guys out of here. The shortest way to get Thomas help is out the back and across the green to where the police have their task force established.

  “The police?” Claudia gasped.

  His eyebrows slammed down. “Honest to God, sis, don’t start your crap! Thomas needs medical care. They have an ambulance there.”

  Claudia swallowed hard and nodded in agreement.

  Roy glanced toward Thomas, then turned back to the girls. “It’s pretty crazy out there. People are starting fires, and it’s out of control.”

  “Fires!” Winnie cried. “What are they burning?

  “You name it,” Roy huffed, “benches, buildings, they don’t care.”

  “Oh my God.” Claudia muttered, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

  “We’ll try to go slow,” Roy continued, “Give him time to catch his breath as often as we can, but we’ll need to keep moving.”

  Both girls nodded.

  “Okay then,” Roy finished. “Let’s roll.” With that, he strode back to Thomas, thanked the nursing student, and put one arm around the man’s waist to help him stand. He told Claudia to keep ahold of his other arm, then his eyes met Winnie’s. “You take up the rear, and keep up, you hear?”

  She didn’t respond, but it didn’t matter, Roy had already headed out of the bathroom and into the hall.

  * * *

  When Justin walked in late that night, Tara was perched on the end of the bed, crying.

  “Whoa, what is this?” he asked, caught off guard. He wandered over to sit beside her.

  She tossed him a glance, then shifted away, crying harder than before.

  Justin knew that Tara rarely cried, but when she did, it was likely the damn had burst and there was carnage downstream. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, please, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  “I fired Blanche,” she sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

  “Fired!” He cried, jumping up from the bed to pace across the room. He turned back, incredulous. “How could you do that?” He asked, flinging his hands as he spoke.

  Tara sobbed harder. What a jerk! He didn’t care that she was upset -- he only cared about Blanche.

  Realizing he was taking the wrong tact, Justin ran his fingers through his hair, sucked in a deep breath, and tried again. “What happened? I thought things were going well. What did she do?”

  Tara couldn’t answer that. She knew Blanche hadn’t done a thing to warrant getting fired. She was the one who had screwed up and been unreasonable.

  “Please,” Justin tried again. “Tell me what happened. Is Bella okay?”


  “Humph,” she sniffed, somewhat relieved that he at least had the heart to ask about his daughter. It was his wife’s feelings he didn’t care about.

  “Did Blanche say something that upset you?” He tried again.

  Tara sniffed. How could she explain that Blanche had been kind and supportive, as always, and how that had made her so angry? Justin would never understand. She stared at his feet, miserable. Then her forehead crinkled.

  “Tara?” he asked.

  “You’re covered in sawdust,” she accused, her gaze scanning his clothing. “What have you been doing? I didn’t know you were actually working on a project.” It had been years since Justin had gotten his hands dirty; he was always much too busy running his design firm to mess with tools. Then again, it wasn’t likely he’d been rolling around in sawdust with another woman. That was something. “What are you working on?” She asked him for the hundredth time, her eyes wide and red, her expression imploring. “I need to know.”

  He froze, his face slack, then his lips met in a firm line.

  She knew that look, and it meant he wasn’t going to say any more. For whatever reason, he’d blocked her from his life.

  He came to the end of the bed and took her hand. “Come on, babe, let’s get you to bed. You look exhausted.” He pulled her to stand, but when she was at eye level, his expression turned to one of surprise. “Is that a black eye?” he asked, tucking her hair behind her ear for a better look.

  She shrugged out of his grasp, her hand coming up to touch where Bella’s head had made contact with her own. “It’s nothing.”

  Justin stared at her hard, trying to visualize an all-out brawl between his wife and the Inn manager. “What does the other guy look like?” he had to ask. He knew that Tara was one tough lady, and he couldn’t help but be concerned for Blanche.