After All These Years

by Sally John

  Fat chance of that, she thought, putting the last plate away in the cupboard. “Why don’t you go on down to the basement and get started?”

  “Because you’re about two stages beyond exhaustion, but you think you have to stay up with me. I want to make sure you go to sleep.”

  Tears filled her eyes. His attention made her accept the truth of what he said. She needed sleep, but she was fighting it. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  He bowed, holding a hand to his chest. “Thank you, Miss Impressively Independent.”

  Lia changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and washed her face. Too much had happened in four days. Chloe had survived the separation and time with Nelson. Lia hadn’t heard details yet, but her niece’s voice over the telephone was normal. Lia herself had survived the separation. She had survived another theft. She hoped to survive the role of sitting duck. What she feared she could not survive was Cal. He whittled diligently away at the independent defenses she had spent years putting into place. All he had to do was look at her now and she forgot someone was stealing narcotics from her. If asked, she wasn’t sure she would know her name.

  Maybe it was exhaustion. She gathered a sheet, pillow, and blankets and carried them to the living room where she found Cal dozing in the recliner.

  His eyes opened when she walked past him. “Lia, I don’t need that stuff. I’m working tonight.”

  “They’re for me. I can’t sleep in my own room.”

  “Why not?”

  She turned her back and spread the bedding on the couch. “It seems too far away.”

  “Suit yourself.” He climbed from the chair. “I’m going to turn off the lights like you normally do.” He switched off the lamp next to the chair, went to the kitchen and flicked off the light, then headed down the hallway toward her bedroom.

  Evidently he knew her routine. How many nights had he sat outside her windows? She yawned and crawled onto the couch, snuggling under the blankets, ridiculously complacent given the daunting events of recent days, from theft to Nelson to—May as well admit it! To feelings for Cal. Feelings? That was putting it mildly.

  He returned, his path lit only by the street lights shining through the closed curtains, and knelt beside the couch. The scent of peppermint filled the small space between them. “Are you afraid?”

  Only of falling for you… She reached for one of his hands and took it between hers.

  “Lia, just say the word, and I’ll stay right here until you go to sleep.”

  “It’s not that. It’s—” In the cozy shadows and the hush of their soft tones, in the comfort of the already familiar rough texture of his strong hand, she found her voice. “I’ve started dreaming again about…about wanting to share all the details of my day-to-day life with someone. I haven’t allowed myself to dream that way for years. I never thought it would be possible to meet—Oh, for goodness’ sake, I’m sorry. That was way too much information! I’ve probably scared you right out the door.”

  He hesitated and then cleared his throat. “Well, ten days ago, you’d probably be looking at my backside right about now. I wouldn’t have had a clue as to what you’re talking about because… Lia, I’ve never imagined such things. But now…now I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

  A comfortable silence hung between them for a few moments, and then Cal stood. “Okay. So you’re all right if I go downstairs?”

  “As long as you don’t leave, I’m fine. Are you all right?”

  “Got my cell, flashlight, and cup of coffee. What else is there?”

  “My prayers.”

  “I’m counting on those. I’ll be here when you wake up. ‘Night, China Doll.”

  “‘Night, Teddy Bear.” She gave his hand one last squeeze and let go.

  He walked through the dim light into the kitchen area, stopping at the table to collect his things. He picked them up, then set them down, and strode back to the couch.

  “There is one thing more.” Again he knelt beside her.

  Lia smiled. “I thought you said no more until we figure things out.”

  “I did. Dumb idea.”

  It was the best goodnight kiss she’d ever had.

  Halfway down the steps to the back room, Cal halted and reminded himself that whistling and the pounding of feet were not the best of surveillance techniques. But he felt he would burst if he did not whistle and pound his feet. He wanted to dance the “If I Were a Rich Man” jig while singing at the top of his lungs.

  Well, he’d just have to stuff it for now and not think about what happened to his heartbeat whenever Lia looked at him.

  Cal breathed a prayer for God’s guidance and then quietly descended, using only his flashlight to illuminate the way. He crossed the back room to the door tucked beneath the staircase. It led to the basement flight of steps. Again he noted that there was no lock on the door. He opened it and continued his descent.

  Before dinner that evening he had made a quick run-through of the basement. Lia said she seldom went down there. The ceiling was low. Boxes stood about, abandoned by previous owners, filled with newspapers and junk that might be interesting to a Valley Oaks history buff. She planned to examine them some year when she had the time.

  If she had ever taken note of the small door across from the steps, half hidden behind the furnace, she probably thought it led to an old root cellar. Cal suspected it led into another basement, the one beneath the video store.

  His light landed on a small white box sitting atop a stack of large cardboard boxes. He read the label. Oxy-Contin. That hadn’t been there earlier. How inane were these guys? Like Lia would stash something in plain sight!

  He made his way across the square room. The building had been built in 1908 and now housed the pharmacy, video store, and florist. It had hosted a variety of businesses over the years and not necessarily three at a time. Walls had been added and torn down. It was more than likely that the basement had been a common area in the early days.

  Shining his flashlight on the door now, he studied it closely. It was set in the concrete block wall just across from the bottom of the stairs, placing it under the back room. Made of grey metal, it was narrower and shorter than an average door and nearly blended in with the wall. Its hinges were not visible from his side. He would have to push it open. Surrounding dirt and cobwebs appeared disturbed, but not enough to indicate that the door had been opened recently.

  But of course it had been.

  Hoping to preserve fingerprints, he covered the doorknob with a handkerchief and lightly touched it. It was locked. From another pocket he pulled a tool and went to work on the lock. Within moments he turned the knob and gently pushed the door open.

  The other room was dark. Cal briefly considered calling Benny, before deciding to just take a quick look around. Maybe they were only leaving “evidence” in Lia’s basement.

  Ducking, he stepped through the doorway, sweeping the flashlight beam on the dark floor. There had been traffic—

  A movement on his left registered—too late. A blinding pain split through his head, stunning him so that he scarcely felt the cold steel blade cutting into his side.

  Lia awoke with a start. What was it?

  She didn’t move, listening intently and hearing only the apartment’s night hums. She peered into the shadows until her eyes hurt. Nothing moved. The microwave oven’s digital clock displayed 11:42. She hadn’t been asleep long.

  And then she caught the scent…a faint, acrid whiff.

  In one motion, she threw off the covers and slipped her feet into loafers. She raced through the apartment and down the stairs. At the bottom she hit the light switch, illuminating the back room.

  “Cal!”

  She flew to him. He lay sprawled face down, across the threshold of the basement door. Smoke rolled out above him.

  “Cal!”

  Taking hold of the legs of his jeans, she pulled with all her strength. Below his feet the basement glowed as if the noonday sun shone in it.r />
  “Oh!” She yanked his legs clear of the door and slammed it shut.

  Phone! She needed a phone! Where was his cell? She had seen him stick it in his back pocket. It wasn’t there!

  Her eyes burned and she choked. They had to breathe! She jumped up and ran to fling open the alley door. The alarm screamed.

  Was he breathing?

  She grabbed towels from the dryer top, threw them in the sink and turned the faucet on full blast. “Cal! Cal! Talk to me!”

  She pulled the wet towels from the sink, wrang them out, and held one to her face as she ran back across the room to his side. Smoke curled beneath the basement door.

  What if the floor caved in?

  Lia pulled him over to his side. “Oh, dear God!”

  He was covered in blood…but at least she could see he was breathing.

  She laid a damp towel across his nose and mouth, then pushed aside his sweatshirt, looking for a wound.

  Blood ran from his left side. She pressed her towel against it, straining to hear sirens above the alarm, crying, wondering how she could drag him eight feet to the open door.

  Would the firemen half a block away hear the alarm? Was anyone there? They were volunteers! Were they all sleeping at home?

  She dashed to the desk, grabbed the phone, and dialed 911. “This is Lia at the Valley Oaks Pharmacy. There’s a fire here!”

  Not waiting for a reply, she dropped the receiver and plunged back to Cal’s side. The linoleum beneath her shins felt hot. She heard crackling now, coming from the other side of the basement door.

  There wasn’t time!

  A strength not her own propelled her arms to push him, then pull, rolling him onto his stomach…then onto his side…then onto his back…then onto his other side. He was losing more blood, but—

  The basement door burst into flames.

  Thirty-Four

  In the ambulance, Lia clung to Cal’s hand, washing it with her tears while the paramedic cared for him. She had no sense of time passing. When the sirens and the motion stopped, they pulled him out and whisked him away. She collapsed against someone, the sobs growing stronger.

  They put her in an examination room, though she protested. “Just a quick check over,” a nurse said. “Your voice is raspy, and you’re covered in soot and blood.”

  Soot!

  No, Soot was still at Isabel’s. He was okay.

  And Chloe was fine. She was with Mom and Dad…in Chicago.

  And Cal. Cal was fine. He was breathing. He was fine. He was fine. Wasn’t he? It was Cal’s blood on her hands, on her sweatshirt, on her jeans…

  Isabel and Anne appeared at her side, and in time they absorbed her trauma with their hugs, tears, and prayers. The blurring sensation eased. She spoke coherently to the doctor. No, she did not care for any relaxant. Her friends helped her into the clothes they had brought and helped her clean up.

  They moved out to a waiting area, a brightly lit open space where people milled about. The horror was closing in again, pulling blinds on her peripheral vision, numbing all sensation to the here and now.

  Anne nudged her onto a stiff chair, tucked a thin flannel blanket around her, then gently took hold of her chin. “Lia, you need a pill.”

  She shook her head and curled her legs up underneath herself. She had to stay alert for Cal.

  Someone sat beside her. “Lia.” It was Brady, his voice husky. He hugged her fiercely. “Thank you for saving his life.”

  When he let her go, Gina appeared and silently embraced her.

  Pastor Peter came next. He knelt in front of her and grasped her hands, his warm face an instant comfort. “How’s our heroine?”

  Lia had no idea one person could shed so many tears in such a short amount of time.

  Ted Rickman, manager of the grocery store, stood behind Peter. “Lia, I’m so sorry, but everything is going to be fine. I just talked with one of the firemen. It’s not as bad as it could have been. There’s smoke damage throughout, but the fire was contained in the basement and back room. Your inventory might not be in too bad of shape. The video store is intact. Your car is fine.”

  She could not comprehend if that was good news or bad news. She only wanted to know one thing, but no one would tell her. Maybe Peter would. She sought his face again. “How’s Cal?”

  “We don’t know yet. He’s still in surgery.”

  “But he was breathing!”

  “Excuse me.” It was Benny Richards.

  Brady groaned. “Aww, Benny, can’t this wait?”

  “Sorry. I need to ask a couple questions.”

  Isabel moved from Lia’s other side and Benny sat down.

  “Ms. Neuman, what happened?”

  “There was a fire—”

  “Start at the beginning. What was Cal doing at your place?”

  Yes, Cal had been at her apartment. But what was he doing there? He was just…just with her. She was falling in love with him. And he cared for her. He truly did. He kissed her. He offered to take her to pick up Chloe tomorrow, but first he had to— “He wanted to finish the search.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  “He wanted to be there, in case they tried something again. He thought they might try something again. He went down to the basement; I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up and smelled smoke. I found him…” Fresh tears again.

  “Where did you find him?”

  “Lying in the back room. In the doorway, his legs kind of hanging down the basement stairs. He was bleeding. I…” She what? She remembered only screaming.

  “You got him to the alley?”

  “The firemen didn’t come. There was smoke. There was no time…”

  “He weighs over 200 pounds!”

  Peter touched her arm. “Benny, Jesus and adrenaline work wonders.”

  In the dark alley she had cradled his head in her lap while pressing her hand against his side. “Why was he bleeding?”

  Benny said, “You don’t know?”

  She shook her head.

  Brady squeezed her arm. “Benny—”

  “He was stabbed, Ms. Neuman.”

  Someone’s arms came around her, muffling new sobs.

  The nightmare dragged on for Lia. Anne massaged her shoulders. Isabel brought tea. The group grew larger. Celeste and Britte arrived with sandwiches for everyone. Conversations floated around her, as if part of a dream.

  And Tammy came with Dot. They sat on the other side of a magazine-strewn table, across from Lia.

  Tammy’s eyes were red rimmed and mascara streaked, though her blouse and blue jeans were neatly pressed, her lipstick in place, her blonde hair cascading in fresh curls. “Lee, what was Cal doing there?”

  Isabel leaned forward, intervening. “Working.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  “It’s his job and it’s dangerous.”

  “I know that!”

  Dot patted her hand. “It’ll be all right, dear. Lia, you probably can’t open the store right away, but I don’t see how I’m going to make it without working. My husband’s laid off.”

  Isabel said, “There’s cleanup duty. Maybe moving inventory.”

  Dot sniggered. “I’m a pharmacist’s technician. I don’t do cleanup. There’s a special service that does that. They come in after a fire and take care of everything. Your insurance will probably pay for some of that.”

  Lia tuned them out.

  Cal hadn’t had time to tell Tammy, of course. Did he even have something to tell her? He indicated so, hadn’t he? He wanted a relationship with Lia, didn’t he? That’s what he had said. Not in so many words, but that’s what he meant. Didn’t he?

  Isabel was speaking. “Lia saved Cal’s life.”

  Dot turned to talk to someone else. Tammy dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Cal means the world to me.”

  Isabel squeezed Lia’s hand.

  Lia set down the styrofoam cup. Tea was spilling over the edges.

  A nurse in aqua-colored sc
rubs appeared in the middle of the hovering group. “Who belongs to Mr. Huntington’s family?”

  Isabel replied, “He doesn’t have any relatives locally. We’re all his friends, from Valley Oaks, just like family. How is he?”

  “He’s out of surgery.”

  Isabel hugged Lia. “Thank You, Jesus.”

  “The doctor wants to talk to the family or, I guess in this case, those closest to Mr. Huntington. This is too many people.”

  Isabel stood, pulling Lia up with her. “The three of us are close friends. She pulled him from the fire, and I live next door to him.”

  Tammy stood. “I’m engaged to him. Practically.”

  “I’m his pastor.”

  Brady spoke over Peter’s shoulder, “I’ve been his best friend since sixth grade.”

  The nurse shook her head. “All right. You.” She pointed. “One, two, three, four, five. No more. We’ll go to a conference room.”

  She led them down a hall and into a small room with four padded chairs. Brady and Peter remained standing as the nurse shut the door.

  The doctor entered a few moments later. He introduced himself to everyone, shook hands all around. “Young lady, that was quite a feat you managed. He wouldn’t be with us right now if you hadn’t found him when you did. The knife wound itself wasn’t seriously deep, probably due to the muscle it encountered on its way in. However, the smoke inhalation and blood loss did a lot of damage. And he’s experiencing some swelling in the brain. There’s a goose egg of a bump on the back of his head.”

  Nausea swept over Lia.

  The doctor continued. “He’s in critical condition in intensive care.”

  “Can we see him?” Brady asked.

  “No, not just yet. He’s not conscious. I can’t give you a timetable, but he’s in excellent, excellent shape. The next 24 hours are crucial, but I’m certain as I can be that he has a good chance of pulling through.”

  A collective murmur of relief and thanksgiving went round the room.

  “He needs to rest now.” He glanced at the wall clock. “Perhaps later this morning his fiancée can see him.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Tammy gushed. “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me! He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m carrying his child.”