Julie shut off the engine. Dad'll be okay with this. Robert's hurt and needs help. What was I supposed to do? He's my friend. I had to help. Looking at the house, she made a silent wish. To make up for every selfish thing I ever did, please let this be okay.
She crossed her fingers for luck, hopped out of the car, opened the passenger door and tapped Robert on the arm. He opened his eyes and pushed himself to upright.
"Come on. Let's get you inside. Can you make it okay?" She held out her hand to offer help.
He closed his eyes, heaved a big sigh and stood. The walk was slow. Julie directed him through the front door, into the living room and onto the couch. He sat, head hung, shoulders slouched.
Julie heard her mother in the dining room. "Mom? Dad? There's this guy who's a friend of mine and he's been missing for a few days." She dug her toes into the carpet. "And I've been really worried about him, and on my way to dance class…." She heaved a big breath.
Her mother placed her cup of tea on the table while her father folded his newspaper. Julie scratched her head and pointed behind her. "He's on the couch and he's pretty beaten up."
"What?" Julie's mother heaved herself out of her chair and hurried to the living room. She placed her hand under his chin and lifted his face. He tried to look away but she held him.
"Paul, that's a friend of his, says he's got bruised ribs too." Julie stood next to her mother.
"Bill, get the first aid kit, please." She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "What happened?"
"Got in a fight." His tone was sullen. He didn't make eye contact.
"His brother beat him up," Julie said. "Then threw him out of the apartment."
Her father returned and handed the kit to his wife. Trying to be careful, she cleaned the cuts and dabbed some ointment on his injuries. Leaning close to her husband, she whispered, "I think the one over his eye could use a couple of stitches.
"Let me see your ribs."
Robert understood Mr. Anderson's words were a command. He stood and winced as he pulled off his shirt. His right side was blotched with large dark bruises.
Julie's father made a fist and compared the size of it to Robert's bruises. "I think we should get you to a hospital."
"No." A look of mild panic crossed Robert's face.
"I'll come too." Julie touched his arm.
He turned to reach for his shirt, grunted then coughed. Julie reached around him, picked it up and helped him put it on. Her father left the room and returned with his keys in hand. Julie led the way to the car.
Mrs. Anderson called from the door, "I'll get the guest room ready."
As her father drove to the hospital, Julie looked out the window at the Halloween decorations on the neighbourhood houses. The pretend horrors of Halloween melted into oblivion next to what she was beginning to understand Robert had experienced.
Her father cleared his throat. "Is this the North Shore student you were telling us about?"
Julie nodded.
"The one who saved you from Christopher?"
Again she nodded.
"The one I said you were to have nothing to do with?"
For the third time, Julie nodded. She had to. She couldn't think of a thing to say.
"Explanation, please."
"Thursday when I got home from work." Robert's voice floated from the back seat. "Mike was at the apartment. His temper's short and mean when he's sober. Worse when he's drunk."
Julie turned to face him. Robert's eyelids were shut and his head rested on the back ledge. "I came to on the sidewalk. Don't remember ending up at Paul's. Not even sure what day it is." He lifted his head and his gaze met Julie's. "Ya know Francine's right. You're Westland. I'm Shore."
"Francine? What's she got to do with this?"
"She said I was no good for ya, 'cause I'm Shore." He dropped his head back on the ledge. "She said…if I didn't stay 'way…from ya she'd…she'd…." He yawned then stifled a groan.
"One more question. Paul says you won't fight Mike. You won't hit him. Why take the beating?"
For a moment, Robert said nothing. Thinking he'd fallen asleep, Julie shifted to face the front.
"Mike's the only blood I got." His voice was low. "He hates me 'cause I'm smarter than he is. Mike's a loser and he knows it. I'll never be rich, but I ain't gonna end up dead in some alley."
"Ssh now." Julie gazed out the front window.
They arrived at Midtown Urgent Care and helped Robert to a chair at the Admittance desk. "Name?" asked the receptionist.
"Holiday – Robert James Holiday. There's a file. Gunshot wound about two years ago." His pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it to the receptionist.
"You have medical insurance?" Julie whispered.
"Yea, kinda need it."
"Current address, 36B Davis Street, North Shore?" The receptionist waited for a reply. Robert rubbed his forehead while trying to remember Paul's address.
"1206 Crestview Avenue, Westland." Both Robert and Julie snapped their heads in the direction of Mr. Anderson. Julie smiled. Robert scratched his head and glanced at the floor.
A few questions later, they moved to the waiting area. Looking at Robert, Julie fought the urge to offer compassion and pity. The suffering she read in his eyes wasn't only from this beating, but from a lifetime of troubles. She knew any pity offered now would cause more pain than Mike's fists. Instead, she sat and waited.
Two hours later, a nurse escorted Robert to an examination room. He exited with an intern who briefed Julie's father on Robert's condition.
In the car, Mr. Anderson explained what the doctor told him. "He has several bruised ribs and a couple of cracked ones. The doctor said we should let him sleep, and if possible, get one of these pills into him." He shook a little brown bottle. "You did the right thing, but I don't know if I like you two being friends. I heard the whispered comment about gang members, and if I've got the right name, he's been through my department and many others."
Julie stared out the side window. She guessed silence was the best response. When they arrived home, she led Robert to the guest room then dragged herself to her room, changed and crawled into bed.
***
The ballerina clock on her night table read 11:05. Julie was still asleep. In her dream, she floated across the stage in a crisp white tutu and pink satin pointe shoes. The music swelled and she spun until her final dramatic pose froze her in time. The audience rose in a tumultuous ovation. Roses rained down upon her. One bumped her shoulder, then another – no? She opened her eyes. Robert, dressed in his blue jeans, stood beside her bed. His eyes were dull and his chin darkened with several days' growth of stubble.
He knelt next to her and winced as he leaned on the bed. "What am I doing here?"
"Don't you remember?" Suddenly aware of how flimsy her nightgown was, Julie covered herself with her blanket.
"I don't remember much." He moved to stand, but a spasm shot through him. When the pain subsided, he straightened up. "I'm hungry."
Julie got out of bed, put on her robe and led him downstairs. "I'm not a great cook." She looked around the kitchen, hoping for meal suggestions. "Eggs? Toast? Soup and a sandwich?"
"Whatever." His head felt terrible, his ribs ached, but his stomach screamed the loudest. He couldn't make the other pains go away. He could silence his stomach. Wincing as he sat at the kitchen table, he was amazed at how many muscles seemed attached to his ribs. Every move he made, even wiggling his toes, caused him pain.
Julie got out the bread, peanut butter, jam and the toaster. "This I can do." With mock pride, she placed the jar on the table.
Robert coughed and grabbed his ribs. When his face whitened, Julie searched for the bottle of pain medication the hospital had given them. She offered two. He popped them into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Julie gagged. She poured a glass of orange juice and offered it to him. He chugged it.
As the bread toasted, Julie explained the events of the preceding evening. Robert grabbed
three of the four slices, slathered on some peanut butter and grape jelly and wolfed them down.
Julie dabbed jelly on her toast and nibbled at it. "Can I ask you something?"
He nodded while he chewed.
She inhaled a big breath then chickened out. "No, forget it." Just ask him. "Does Mike beat you up a lot?"
Robert played aimlessly with the peanut butter jar, waiting for the toaster to pop. "There's a lot of my life that I'm ashamed of. Some of it's stuff I've done, some is stuff that just happened."
He grabbed the toast, offered her a slice, then picked up his knife and dug it into the peanut butter jar. "You've led a nice comfortable life with loving parents, trips to Disneyland and stuff. Violence, hunger and homelessness sums up my existence. But I've changed, I've done my time. I grew up."
Julie filled his glass with orange juice and poured another for herself. When he'd finished the next four slices of toast, he chugged his juice then shook his head. "The past, my past, is right here with me in the present. Every time I try to distance myself from it, it rears up and slaps me in the face." He scratched his unshaven cheek.
"I want to know about your past, not to judge you on it, but so I can learn about you. I want to understand you."
Julie picked up the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher. "I have a question." She turned. "Last night, you said Francine was right. What did you mean?"
"Nuthin'."
"Come on. Talk to me. Friends. What were you two arguing about?" She pressed start on the dishwasher and sat at the table.
"She said if I didn't leave ya alone she'd tell ya some pretty bad stuff."
"What?"
Robert shook his head.
"I thought we decided that we could talk about anything." She wiped an invisible crumb off the table.
"Once ya learn the truth, ya aren't gonna want to have anythin' to do with me." He tried to stifle a yawn.
"But I want to be your friend. I want to know everything."
Robert pushed back the chair and turned to walk away. He held his side, released a low moan then steadied himself by grabbing the table.
Julie kicked back her chair and scurried to stand next to him. She rested her hand on his arm. When he opened his eyes, she said, "I think you should go back to bed."
"No, actually, I should get my stuff and get outta here." He'd spent the night sleeping in Westland. Miracles do exist.
"Robert, you've never seen my mother angry. It's not a pretty sight. You're sick and injured and you don't have any place to live. We have a guest room. Go back to bed."
With a mock salute, Robert did as he was commanded.
Wow, even hurt and banged up he is so hot. And those tattoos…uh, tats are awesome. That twisted, spiky vine thing down his spine and the snake that circles up to his chest. Wonder what the numbers are over his heart?
Julie heard the rattle of keys and hurried to open the back door. Her mother entered and handed her a shopping bag. "Hi dear, did you sleep well? Eat yet?"
"Yes, Mom. Robert woke me up. I fed him toast and peanut butter."
"The Julie special."
Julie peeked into the bag. It held a toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, deodorant and other items. "That was nice of you. Robert just went back to bed, actually. He was going to leave, but I told him seeing you angry wasn't a pretty sight."
Mrs. Anderson laughed and pulled some papers out of her other bag. "I went to Westland and explained everything. I have your books and Robert's and today's homework."
"He'll be pleased to hear that. He'd just got caught up from before." Julie picked up the shopping bag and books then headed off to her room to do her homework.
***
As it was a quiet night with no one rushing off to ballet class, basketball practise or music lessons, the Andersons had a family meal in the dining room. Mr. Anderson explained to the younger children that Robert would be staying with them for a short time. Julie thought she heard a distinct emphasis on the words short time. Mrs. Anderson assigned kitchen and dish duty to the youngest three siblings.
Julie and her parents relaxed in the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson read the evening paper, while Julie worked through the last few calculus questions.
The front door bell rang. "I'll get it." Julie opened the door.
The man from the Murran Estate stood on the porch. "My name is Carl. I'm looking for Robert Holiday. A friend of his, Paul, said he might be here."
"He's here."
Carl turned and motioned to the limousine parked in the drive. A chauffeur opened a back door and Mrs. Murran stepped out. When she reached the porch, she extended her hand and said, "Good evening, Julie. A pleasure to see you again." Turning to her companion, she asked, "Carl, have we located Robert?"
Carl nodded then Julie invited them into the house. "Mom. Dad. This is Carl and Mrs. Murran."
Julie's father hung their coats in the closet. Her mother offered coffee or tea, but both declined. Everyone settled into the living room on the chairs or sofa. Mrs. Murran reminisced with Mr. Anderson for a moment, then she said, "As to why we're here, we've been looking for an employee of mine, Robert. He isn't answering his cell phone, and I'm...." Mrs. Murran glanced at Carl. "We're concerned."
"Julie brought him home last night." Mrs. Anderson turned to her daughter. "Why don't you see if he's awake?"
Julie hurried upstairs.
"Bill and my daughter took him to Emergency last night," said Julie's mother. "He spent the day here." She watched her daughter cross the room. "Is he awake?"
"Nope." Julie sat on the couch.
"How is he?" The concern in Carl's voice hinted at this being more a personal hunt for Robert.
"He's had a bad beating, but the doctor said no permanent damage," said Mr. Anderson.
"He came to the Estate Friday and tried to work, but he was in such pain that I sent him home." Carl didn't mention how intoxicated Robert had been.
"Do you know what happened?" asked Julie's mother.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Murran. "Robert's been working for us for a long time. Mike's been beating him up even longer." She shook her head.
Jumping at the chance to discover part of his mysterious past, Julie asked, "How did you meet Robert?"
Both Mrs. Murran and Carl laughed. "One day, this bratty kid was brought to the Estate by his parole officer." There was a smile of reminiscence on Carl's face. "The deal was Bob could have certain privileges if he worked on the Estate. At first, he resisted. You know, tough, cool kid. Then a racehorse went by. He was fascinated. Didn't take him long to figure out, if he wanted to be near the horses he had to be on the Estate. I don't think there's a job on the property he doesn't know how to do."
Julie heard a touch of fatherly pride in his voice.
"I'll confess I'm concerned about him being here." Her father glanced at Julie then turned to Mrs. Murran. "How would you describe Robert?"
"To use a cliché, the right kid born into the wrong family. Carl worked him hard. He didn't complain. Yes, he's done some dumb teenager things." She smiled at Julie. "All part of growing up, I guess. But, I know I can leave Robert in charge of running the Estate."
Mr. Anderson wanted to talk about Robert's gang involvement, but the conversation halted when he stepped off the bottom stair into the living room.
Julie's pulse raced at the sight of him standing there dressed only in his blue jeans. She flushed at the thought of rubbing her hands along the smooth hard muscles of his broad shoulders and chest.
"It took us a while to find you." The worried tone in Carl's voice gave Julie the impression he'd forgotten to add the word son to the end of his sentence.
Mrs. Murran asked, "How are you?"
"Hanging in, ma'am." He looked down at himself then at Mrs. Anderson. "I couldn't find my sweat shirt. Just my jeans." Sitting on the floor next to Julie caused him considerable pain, which he tried to hide but everyone noticed.
Julie wanted the others to disappear so she
could kiss away that pain.
"I washed your shirt. It should be dry by now." Mrs. Anderson left to retrieve it.
"Well, now that we have found you, I guess we should be going." Mrs. Murran stood. "We don't wish to impose on these kind people."
Julie's mother returned with Robert's sweatshirt.
"I'm not hurrying you and things are quiet now, but when do you think you'll be back?" Carl held Mrs. Murran's coat for her.
"Tomorrow." Robert pulled his sweatshirt down.
"I don't think so." Julie's mother shook her head.
"Friday."
"No."
"Saturday. Sunday?"
"We'll see." Julie's mother smiled.
Carl pulled Robert aside. "Do you know where you are?"
"I think so."
"You watch yourself."
"Yes, sir."
"That comes from me also, Robert." Mrs. Murran shook her finger at him.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yes, ma'am."
Julie's father escorted them to the door. Julie and her mother returned to the couch. "Nice people."
Robert settled into a chair. "Yea, I owe 'em a lot. Even if they do treat me like I'm eight years old."
Julie sat up straight and seized her chance to learn something of Robert's past. "Okay, we're all here. Let's talk. Robert, you go first."
Chapter Eight
Robert winced then shifted in his seat. "Uh…thanks for takin' me to Emergency, and for lettin' me stay. I'll get out tomorrow."
"No, you won't." Mrs. Anderson assumed motherly control. "You're hurt and have no place to go. It's October. It's cold out. You'll stay until you find a place."
The insult of having his living arrangements broadcast made his anger rumble. He swallowed it down. "Thanks. I'll start lookin' soon."
Having caught his angry tone, Julie glanced at him.
"Why are you in such a rush to leave?" Mrs. Anderson asked.
Julie's father cleared his throat. "He's hoping to get out before I figure out who he is."
Dancing in Circles (Circles Trilogy) Page 9
