WindSwept Narrows: #3 Emily Temple

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “Just keep an eye on Emily for me, will you? Police have any leads on the robbery guy?”

  “I gave them a sketch this morning at the hospital…I’m assuming it’s being circulated and who knows…Have a great night,” he said, closing the phone and walking to the bed, standing staring for a long minute before leaving her apartment to get his laptop and note book.

  Shortly after midnight, Jack finally shut things down, his instructions sent and notes made. He pulled the light blanket she had over the back of the sofa over him, remembering her warning. He was a little too long for her sofa, fortunately it was a warm night. Two hours later, he swore he was in the middle of a really bad horror film.

  Chapter Five

  His feet hit the floor and he was in the bedroom without thinking. Emily had bolted upright, the quilt pooled on her lap and hands bracing her. He gripped her shoulders, lifting her slightly.

  “Emily! Emily, wake up!”

  Jack shook her gently. She was holding her breath, a hard draft of air dragged in when her eyes focused on him, her chest heaving raggedly.

  “Jack! Oh, Jack! It was…it was…a dream…” her hands came up and went around his neck, clinging tightly, her chest pressing against his. “I was there…it was an argument…he hit me…I swear I could feel it!” She whispered hoarsely.

  “Easy, honey…it was a dream…” His palm came up and stroked over her head, the band holding her hair in place caught in his fingers and tossed to the nightstand. Long, silken strands reached down to the center of her back. Only he knew it was her memory coming back to haunt her.

  “No…no…I swear! It was so real…it was like some nightmare from Victorian England! Marry me or I’ll make sure your family is destroyed!” Her slender body shuddered savagely against him. “He was…ohhh…it was horrid…”

  Jack sat on the bed with her resting against him. He slowly, carefully leaned back onto the pillows. Then he realized she was laying on her stitches and brought them to a sitting position again. He gradually eased her away, his hands on her shoulders to firmly hold her upright.

  “Emily…look at me…” he waited, watching her blink under the lights from the streets behind the building.

  “You won’t…don’t go…please…” She breathed raggedly, a frantic quality in her voice that ripped through him.

  “I won’t…I’ll stay here…but I can’t stay on this side…your stitches are here…” Jack backed up slowly when she nodded, the plastic vial of pills on the nightstand. “Take another pill, Emily.”

  “No…no…I…” a soft, tearful sound filled her words.

  “No lies, Emily…not now, not ever…it’s hurting you,” he stated flatly. “You bolted upright and it hurts now…” he lifted the vial and dumped one of the pills into his palm, the glass of water in his other hand.

  “No…I…”

  He quickly popped the pill into her mouth, the glass of water held to her lips and tipped up. She had to swallow or drown. Jack watched the pure anger fill her eyes, a promise of mayhem he knew he’d be exposed to.

  “I hate you…” she sputtered when he stopped pouring water into her mouth.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot…” He set the glass down and moved around to the other side of the bed, carefully lifting her to the other side.

  “I don’t know how and I don’t know when…but I’ll get even,” Emily told him, swaying slightly when she tried to move to her side. A groan left her lips uncalled for and the wince pinching her features told him he did the right thing.

  “I’m sure you will, honey…lay down…I’m tired…” Jack stretched out on his back, pulling one of the many quilts over him and laying his left arm across the top. “C'mon…you can use me to brace yourself against…”

  She pulled the quilt she was wrapped in around her and slowly eased herself to the mattress, fingers raking the long hair behind her. Her head rested on his upper arm, the warmth and security that flowed through her was almost instant, her body snuggling down contentedly.

  “I didn’t mean what I said…”

  “I know. That was some scream, Emily,” his palm stroked lightly up and down her shoulder, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the quilt.

  “I…he was…” her head shook slightly, a shiver raced through her before she could stop it. “His palm was over my mouth…and…there were flowers growing around me…he…he forced me to the ground and was…he was…I couldn’t breathe, Jack….my shirt…he tore it…and I felt him…somehow I got my hands free and grabbed his head and pulled…and my knee came up…and I ran…and ran…” she breathed jaggedly, her fingers cold when his larger palm surrounded it. “I just ran…I was so frightened…I guess that’s when I screamed…it was so real…I keep having the same dream, Jack…”

  “It’s okay, Emily…you’re safe here…” His palm continued the soothing stroke along her shoulder even after her breathing slipped into a steady, soft rhythm.

  Jack closed his eyes, willing the image she had painted to the back of his mind. He would find a way to ruin Demming. Neither of them moved the rest of the night, his eyes opening slowly to see the fog surrounding them. It had eased in overnight along with a slightly cooler day. He lifted a pillow from the floor at his side, carefully easing it against her and him out from beneath her body.

  He looked over at the clock, doing some mental calculation of the time she took the last pill to about when it would wear off. He figured he’d have three hours before she was ready to hit the ground running. He wanted a long run, a hot shower and some food and coffee…a lot of coffee, he decided, quietly leaving her apartment.

  It was several hours before Emily opened her eyes and looked around. Her room. Okay, that was good. Her palm carefully moved out from her side. The other half of the bed was empty.

  “Also a good sign,” she murmured, eyes narrowed when they landed on the mostly empty glass of water and the memory returned to her. A cross between anger and an ancient fear raged through her. Emily struggled to push the dream from her mind, focusing on her body at the moment.

  “Okay…step two…” She closed her eyes again and moved her arms first, sliding them back until her elbows locked and levered her to an angle.

  “Good…” The word came out in a hoarse breath of air. A little more and she had both palms flat on the bed behind her, pushing her upright.

  “Slow and consistent, I always say…”

  Now she focused on her feet, sliding them to the side and letting them drop over the side. “Gravity is a good thing…” Using one hand, she rotated her hip carefully, her hands moving quickly to grip the edge of the bed. “Progress…okay…no shower…but I can wash…and brush…hm…the hair is probably good for another day…or I could go across the street to the salon and get them to wash and fluff me…” Pale lashes opened slowly when the sound of a male clearing his throat echoed around her. “Or…I could consult my advisor for the activities permitted for the day…”

  “I like that answer,” Jack commented casually, leaning on the door jamb and listening to her ramble. “You always talk to yourself?”

  “Umm…yeah…pretty much…”

  “I was going through your clothes…”

  “Excuse me?” Came the high pitched question.

  “And what we need…”

  “We?”

  “Is something that binds…the cut is higher than your waist…” Jack stepped up to the closet and pulled a crème colored scoop neckline vest out of the inside. “So I thought this would work….”

  Emily looked at the vest and then at him, nodding slowly. “Okay…I see a career as a budding fashion consultant…and on the bottom?”

  “Well…the guy in me picked out this one…” He held up a denim mini skirt, tipping his head to the side and watching her face.

  “Hmm…ordinarily…a good match…but I’d honestly rather not be arrested for walking the streets when I walk the streets….”

  “Damn cops…messing with a guy’s fantasy,” he
put it back and brought out one that was a lot longer and fell in crème colored tiers of fabric. “How about this one?”

  “Much better choice…considering it’s coming from a guy with five wild flower shirts and three pairs of identical shorts, one in black, one khaki and one used to be white.”

  “You noticed?”

  “It’s the fashionista in me,” she returned, eyes rolling back. “That other one…I think a bit too much of me would show in it…probably because it’s not mine, it belongs to Grace. In case you hadn’t noticed, she’s a lot shorter than me. I’ve got these legs that just stretch out…”

  “I had noticed that,” Jack admitted with a nod, carrying the clothes to the bed. “Okay…next…”

  “Bathroom,” Emily planted her feet on the floor and stood up slowly, swaying only a little. She held up her palm to stop him which he promptly ignored, going to her right side and lifting her arm to hold her against him. “You do realize…” she began with a low, lethal quality to her voice. “Any normal female would not be in her panties being escorted to the bathroom…”

  “But you are way above normal, Emily Temple,” Jack told her with a wink. “Come on…easy steps…the hardest part is going to be straightening up for the first couple days…”

  “Gee…I hadn’t noticed…” She put her feet down and refused to move them, stopping and wanting to turn.

  “What do you need, Emily?”

  “Over there…in the dresser,” she said, trying to move forward and finding him holding her firmly in place. “Damn it…the top drawer!” She growled.

  “Stay put,” he crossed the room and pulled the drawer open, brows arched at the silky colors. “Uhh…which…”

  “Just give me a pair!” Emily ground out between her teeth, her palm up and snatching her panties from his fingers.

  “You…are not a morning person.”

  “I am too a morning person!” She challenged hotly. “What I am not is a dress up Barbie doll with some guy pulling stuff from my…”

  “But I’m not a pig,” he said hopefully, holding her carefully and moving to the bathroom until she froze again. He met her gaze, trapped in the sparkling sincerity in her eyes.

  “No…no, Jack…you are not a pig,” she told him in all seriousness, her gaze sweeping to the floor and continuing their trek toward the bathroom.

  “I am going to work on breakfast,” he leaned her against the counter. “Thirty minutes?” Jack saw her eyeing the vial of sleeping tablets and quickly snatched it up, beating her hand by a scant second.

  “Give that to me.”

  “Not likely,” he dropped the vial into his shirt pocket. “You need them. And it’s not responsible to dump them into the toilet.”

  “I…you don’t…” Emily stomped her bare foot and groaned softly with the effort.

  “I do know…Call me if you need help…”

  “Yeah…that’s good…maybe I need a bell…”

  “You know…I’d find a bell for you only because I know you’re too stubborn to use it,” Jack leaned down, kissing her fast and hard before closing the door and striding off whistling.

  Emily sat on the bench inside the large shower, slowly working her clothing off and washing herself. She shrugged into a bra and the vest, fingers fastening the small buttons. Emily stood up carefully, turning from side to side. He was right. Because the vest was form fitting, it helped hold her muscles around the stitches in place when she moved. She dropped her things into the laundry and carefully let the skirt fall over her head.

  She carried her hairbrush into the bedroom, walking slowly and leaning against the bed, brushing the long hair thoughtfully. The nightmare bothered her. It felt so real…and there were gaps in her memory where she knew it might fit and that was frightening.

  Chapter Six

  Jack moved quietly. He heard the bathroom door open and watched her moving very slowly over the hardwood floor, the fingers of one hand wrapped tightly around the handle of a lethal looking wire brush. She wasn’t binding the long hair up, something that had him wondering if she had a headache. He’d never seen her without the long ponytail. She had pulled the pale brown hair to one side, hands working as she brushed and stared out the open window.

  She set the brush on the nightstand, hands pressing against the bed. Full lips pursed into a tight bow as she moved the bare feet into a comfortable and safe stance. Emily looked up at the same time Jack leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed over his chest and one eye brow lifted critically. The breath caught in her chest, relieved there was a hint of a smile on his face.

  “You have company,” Jack told her, nodding to Ian coming through the door at his side.

  “Oh joy…two of you…” Emily let her hands ease her back to the bed.

  “Good morning to you, too,” Ian looked around the room, tugging a small chair closer to the window. “How about over here where I can see better…” he set his bag on the floor and went to her side, helping her move to the chair. “I brought some plastic covers…use them when you take a shower.”

  “Thank you…”

  “Open the vest, Emily…and good choice…it’ll provide a little support for your muscles, rather like a sling,” Ian commented, watching as she looked toward the door.

  She sighed and opened the vest, sliding it off her shoulder. She looked in the opposite direction, not wanting to see what had happened to her.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Oh, you know…fine…” she sighed when he merely looked at her pointedly. “Okay, less than fine…”

  “Pain?”

  “Not…not really pain…more…it throbs…I have a headache, but I think that’s from…”

  “Did you take one of the pain pills last night?” Ian asked, cleaning the slight seepage gently. “Did you get some sleep?”

  “I…yes…isn’t there something I can take for the pain that won’t put me to sleep?”

  “Anya told me you were having nightmares, Emily…and not sleeping,” Ian looked at her, waiting and prodding the cut.

  “She had a nightmare last night,” Jack called out.

  “No one asked you!”

  “Emily…”

  “Alright, yes…I have nightmares…”

  “Do you think you need the pain pills, Emily? On a scale of one to ten…how much pain are you in?” Ian pulled a small vial from his bag after he’d reapplied the bandages.

  “I…” She looked toward the door, her voice dropping. “Probably only a three…”

  “Liar,” Jack called from the other room.

  Emily growled, glaring at Ian who merely arched an eyebrow and waited. “Okay…maybe an eight…but I know it’s just the muscles and…and skin adjusting and healing.”

  “Keep the pain pills…but I’m giving you two week’s worth of sleeping tablets,” he watched her scowl. “Emily…your body needs a given amount of solid, decent sleep. You’ve now added the trauma of an eight inch gash and your body can’t heal without rest.”

  “She’ll take them.”

  “What are you two? A damn tag team?” Emily grumbled testily.

  “Let me have them,” Jack held out his palm to Ian, adding the second small vial to the one already in his pocket.

  “Here are the plastic patches…keep it dry…let it air at night time, Emily,” Ian snapped his bag closed, offering his palm to help her up from the bed. He watched her position her feet and use him as leverage. Her eyes closed and she took a shaky step forward, keeping her feet close together as she moved across the floor. She didn’t see Ian shake his head slightly when Jack took a step forward.

  “The pain is going to slow you down more than anything else, Emily,” Ian said softly, nodding at the watching Jack with a sigh when she swiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks, a gesture that made her body falter. “It’s only been twenty four hours.”

  “I know,” she whispered, her breaths coming in short bursts, her sigh resigned when Jack lifted the arm on her good side and
held her against him.

  “Come on, Emily, you need some food,” Jack held most of her weight, letting her ease herself into the chair she’d used the night before in front of the table.

  “Call me, Jack, if there’s anything looking off,” Ian told him firmly.

  “Thank you, Ian…” she looked over the collection of items on the table and then up at Jack, watching him do the male nod thing as Ian left the apartment. “You’ve been busy…what time did you leave?”

  “I went for a run about five thirty,” Jack told her, carrying two full glasses of juice to the table and sitting down, drizzling something in a slim red bottle over his eggs.

  “This stuff didn’t come from my kitchen,” she said carefully, turning the little red bottle, reading and carefully removing her fingertips. “I bet you like Mexican food, too, huh?”

  “Guilty as charged,” he told her with a wink. “And that’s not true…the plates and glasses came from your kitchen.” He laughed at the crooked grimace she offered, watching her lift a slice of apple between two fingers. “Not hungry?”

  “Jack…” she said his name very slowly, leaning over slightly. “I don’t eat this much all day…”

  “So where does all that wild energy come from in the mornings?” He asked, lifting a slice of toast and crunching down.

  “I…I don’t know…it’s just there,” she shrugged, lifting the fork and eating the scrambled eggs slowly. “These are good…real…eggy…”

  “That’s because they come from a friend who raises chickens,” Jack said simply, glad she was interested enough to eat.

  “Hmm…” Emily took a long drink of the orange juice and lifted a half of a toasted bagel, biting down thoughtfully. “I think I like the black shorts best…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Hmm...they complement the bright flowers…”

  “These are my best shorts. I dressed up for breakfast,” Jack told her in mock seriousness. “So tell me why when those things are hanging in your closet they don’t look near as sexy as they do draped around you?” He had given over to the urge to stare when she stood beside the bed, the flowing, tiered skirt circling her hips below her belly button and clinging snugly.