Fear Is Louder Than Words: Her stalker taught her fear. Her suspicions taught her terror.

by Linda S. Glaz

  Maggie jumped up from the chair. Her feet carried her back and forth with a fidgety marching. She stopped once, but her nerves carried her on a tightrope. “No. But the attorney said—”

  “Are you legally separated?”

  “I’m not sure.” The six-thousand-dollar ring spun on her finger. Not sure why she still wore it, she plucked the monstrosity off and threw it across the room.

  The officer snapped around, turned back, and eyed her as if she were a crazy woman. Maybe she was. She’d been under a lot of pressure. Didn’t he see that? “But we will be soon.”

  A moment later, he twisted the cap back on the bottle and stood. “Why don’t you sit back down? Ma’am, your husband has a right in this house, and he can remove pretty much whatever he wants, particularly his own possessions unless you have a restraining order against him. And with nothing missing, there’s not much for us to do but close up shop. You understand?”

  “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Accepting the futility of her suspicions, she accompanied the officer to the door where she held it open for him. No one was going to believe her unless she calmed down and made sense for a change. Even their friends would have a hard time. She had been off the radar, drowning in a bottle for so many years. Only her lawyer had any faith in what she said.

  “Thank you anyway. I guess I’ll just let my attorney sort through the details.”

  He nodded before turning his back. “Probably the best choice, ma’am,” he said. “I still wish you’d go stay with a friend, but if your husband should come around again and threaten you or harm you in any way, give us another call. I’ll even make sure we do a few extra passes in this area tonight.”

  His steps on the walkway faded along with his words.

  She leaned against the corner of the door and closed her eyes. Her heart pounded along with her head. When she looked up, he was at the car.

  “Well, if you wait to come until he assaults me, it’ll be too late, won’t it? Then you can bring a body bag to the party.”

  The officer climbed in but shouted over his shoulder. “Like I said, we’ll drive by a few times.”

  As she started to close the door, she couldn’t resist one last dig. “Like that will do any good if I’m already fish food in the bay.”

  CHAPTER 88

  HEAD LEANED AGAINST THE headrest, Kyle shuffled the pages of a rumpled magazine. He stopped short on the third page of athletes. McGrath. The guy he’d wanted to hurt for the last two months. The guy was athletic like his dad, but the dude was nothing but a problemo.

  He smashed a fist into the magazine. Ten long years since Dad had gone to prison. Ten years since Kyle’s life had been flushed down the toilet. All because of Miss Hoity-Toity. So what if the old man’d taken a few drinks that night?

  When Dad left, Mom had to fend for herself. She hadn’t been cut from the kind of cloth to hold up under pressure.

  A good half hour passed with Kyle deep in thought, his arms across his chest.

  He slouched in the seat and fingered Rochelle’s glove hidden in his pocket. These must have cost her plenty. Probably more than he and his mom lived on in a week.

  Then a sigh that rocked his very core escaped him as he crouched down further into the driver’s seat. He couldn’t let his emotions control him. That had been his father’s downfall in prison. Turning into a religious nut.

  Who believed that crap? Not Kyle. Not anymore. He’d grown up, faced reality.

  He scanned each person exiting the hospital. Sooner or later, she’d have to leave for one reason or the other. And the friendly security guard would be there to help her.

  CHAPTER 89

  THE HUGE IRON CLOCK on the wall moved so slowly. Cody and Ed had been in surgery for over seven hours. Doctors Norris and Daniels had said they thought about five to six hours.

  Waiting for news with Donna and John, Rochelle gazed up hopefully. John Sr. and Marion entered the surgical lounge, but Dr. Daniels didn’t accompany them.

  With tension so evident on everyone’s face, Rochelle needed a break. Needed to see some smiles and joy instead of the fear driving this group.

  John Sr. huffed at the lack of information.

  Rochelle held back a giggle as she looked at him. Brett Galloway was right—he did always look like he’d just eaten a pickle. Maybe a boost of caffeine would bring life to his face.

  “There’s some coffee on the counter.” Rochelle nodded toward the urn. Her own fingers wouldn’t stop fluttering on her cup. When she set it down, she clutched one hand in the other. Shifting so often in the chair, her legs had begun to cramp.

  Marion shook her head. “We could go downstairs to the cafeteria. Make the time go a little faster.” She turned to her son. “What do you say?”

  John shrugged his shoulders at his mother’s suggestion. “I’m not hungry, Mom. How about you and Dad go check out the gourmet cuisine. Or maybe one of the others would like to. Not me.” His eyes were lifeless and full of worry.

  Rochelle ached to give him a friendly hug, assure him the situation would get better, but she had to believe it to do it, and right now, her belief system suffered one doubt after another. Shame consumed her. She should be finding a way to live her faith in front of these good people, encouraging them.

  “I’m not hungry either.” But she smiled.

  “No thanks,” Donna added. “I can’t imagine food on my stomach right now. Why don’t you and Dad go? You’ll both feel better, and we’ll just sit here. I know Dad has to take his medication.”

  His father steered Marion from the waiting room and Rochelle inhaled slowly. Thank goodness they left. They tended to hover.

  “When I see your father so pale, I worry.” With all of the people packed into the surgical waiting lounge, Rochelle spoke to John as softly as she could.

  “Me, too. He doesn’t usually get this upset. We were never his … priorities before now. I can’t believe the changes I’ve seen in him. He actually laughed this morning. Not sure when the last time that happened.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  She met John eye to eye, and understanding his meaning, smiled reassuringly. Then she offered him a hot chocolate from the mini-kitchenette which had been set up for patients’ families. Being a food pusher had always been her way of comforting friends and family. He accepted with a nod.

  “You have to remember, your dad has a son and a grandson both undergoing surgery at the same time. I don’t know yet, but I’m guessing kids don’t really grow up in a parent’s mind.”

  “I don’t suppose they do.” John’s smile was nothing more than a quick tilt at the edges followed by the waiting-game frown. He downed the cocoa in a couple gulps and tossed the cup in the trash.

  “I keep hoping he’s coming around. Little things have changed since…” He choked back tears and started again. “Since Cody got sick. I’m hoping there’s something good to come out of this.”

  A door squeaked open, and Rochelle whipped toward the noise, expectation trampling her breath. A housekeeper in a drab gray uniform entered, loaded down with supplies, to make more coffee and check the hot water. The woman turned and asked if she could bring them anything else.

  Rochelle shook her head and the housekeeper left after emptying the trashcan. How long would this take? She rose from her seat and stretched. A walk to allow her mind to refresh might help. Maybe by the time she returned, the doctors would be out of surgery.

  Passing the gift shop, Rochelle backtracked and stopped in for a chocolate bar. She bought two, one for now, one for after the news.

  Oh, please let it be good news. Forgive my doubts.

  When she rounded the corner for the surgical lounge, she tossed the wrapper in the garbage and cleaned her hands on a small hand wipe from her purse. She licked her lip and caught a speck of dark chocolate lurking.

  The cleaning lady must have missed this can; it overflowed with wrappers, paper cups, and other hand towels. She bent and retrieved the wrapper, s
hoving it deeper. As she looked up, she caught Dr. Daniels and Dr. Norris exiting the surgical suite.

  A feeling of déjà vu crept over her. She shuddered. Ten years had passed since she stood in a hospital similar to this one waiting for news of her family. With knees trembling, she staggered toward the wall and leaned against it for support. The doctors’ faces didn’t offer much comfort.

  Like that night when Dr. Corsens walked the long hall from the emergency room and gave a quick shake of his head while gesturing in her direction. The words I’m sorry, we couldn’t help them still scorched her senses and caused her insides to quake. If the doctor said the same words to her today, she’d throw up.

  Struggling to interpret the look on their faces, she moved hand over hand along the wall until she pulled close enough to hear.

  The two doctors exchanged grave expressions. Three nurses hustled through the doorway and blocked her from view.

  “What a mess in there. Who’d have guessed we’d have that kind of unexpected complication. I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to tell the world that Ed McGrath didn’t make it out of surgery,” Norris said.

  CHAPTER 90

  ROCHELLE FROZE.

  Her stomach cramped. Muscles tightened through her chest and she clutched her sweater, struggling to suck in air.

  Just what she had been afraid of was happening.

  How would she make it without him? He’d been her rock. She had fallen completely in love with him. Now, only a few memories remained. Like with her family. Only memories of a love so profound, she couldn’t think his name without shuddering inside.

  Time held its breath before she regained her senses. She pushed around the corner.

  “What are you talking about?” She squeezed between the nurses. “What happened to Ed?”

  After a startled moment of recognition, Norris grasped her hand in his. He put a finger to her lips. “It’s all right. He’s doing well now. Gave us … a minute’s worry, but you know the saying, all’s well that ends well. And though he had a rocky start, the surgery ended on a good note.”

  Gobbledygook.

  Ed survived surgery? But … had she misunderstood them? Or was she misunderstanding them now? “And so he’s all right?”

  He reached up, ran fingers over his forehead, and smiled broadly. “And you and the McGraths will be able to go in to see him in about an hour. That soon enough?”

  What did he mean “rocky start?” And what about Cody? She drew in a shaky breath. Ed was alive.

  “And Cody?”

  “He’s fine. Finished about thirty minutes ago,” Dr. Daniels said. “I wanted to stay with Norris until Ed was in the clear or I would have come out with the news about Cody. He did very well.”

  With a gentle hand on her arm, Dr. Norris guided her toward the surgical lounge where he and Dr. Daniels would repeat the news for the whole family. Her knees wobbled so she leaned hard against his shoulder.

  Once inside the doorway, she scrambled to the safety of a seat. Dr. Daniels stepped forward and pulled John and Donna aside. She barely heard his words. “The first twenty-four hours will be the most crucial for Cody. He was a little soldier during surgery, and I fully expect a remarkable recovery, but again, let’s get through this next twenty-four hours before we celebrate.”

  Rochelle curled into a ball in the chair and basked in the joy that shone on their faces. She probably looked the same. Because the world had been washed in sunshine and coated with joy at the doctor’s reassurance.

  “He’ll be fine.” She repeated the words in her head like a favorite tune. The frightened parents gave her a glimpse of what life must be like to have a child in danger. Their smiles quickly replaced the frowns of the long day, and she reached up with the realization she smiled as broadly.

  John squeezed the doctor’s hand. “Thank you so much, Dr. Daniels. I don’t know what to say.”

  “You’ve said enough,” he replied as Donna pulled him into a bear hug. “Okay, okay. There you go.” He patted her back, his smile half-embarrassed.

  The door opened to the lounge, and Rochelle craned to see who entered. This time John Sr. and Marion pushed through with their arms full of plastic trays. Something smelled wonderful. Chocolate chip cookies?

  The McGraths would be thrilled. Both their son and grandson had come through surgery.

  “We brought you kids some chicken sandwiches on toasted sourdough bread, fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies, and milk. What’s happened?”

  Yup, chocolate chip, her nose never failed her. Rochelle stole one look at Donna, and they both burst out laughing—hysterically. “I’ll answer my question right now. See the milk and cookies? I’d say no, they don’t see us as grown-ups.”

  Ed’s mother scowled as she doled out the cartons of food and drinks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Rochelle offered a hand to relieve her of the heaviest package. “It means thank you for the lunch, Mrs. McGrath. It was kind of you to think of us this way.”

  “Why, of course. Feed the body, feed the soul.”

  Rochelle put down the box and accepted a sandwich. Then she winked at Donna, who couldn’t resist saying, “Oh, and, by the way, Mother McGrath, Cody and Ed are both out of surgery and doing fine.”

  Rochelle grinned as Ed’s mother toppled with relief into the welcoming arms of a chair.

  #

  Drifting in and out of consciousness, Ed mumbled a string of nonsensical words followed by, “The incision hurts like—”

  “Ah, ah. Don’t say it.” Rochelle smoothed the sheet over his arms.

  Ed frowned, but the words came out more of a cross-eyed bewilderment. “I wasn’t going to say anything … bad.”

  His admission drew a smile as she brushed the hair from his eyes. Not clear and blue as usual, but rather, yellowy red with a tinge of blue just peeping through. The pain had to be unbearable. As well as the overall stress on his body.

  “That’s reassuring. Can’t be certain what someone might say when they’re all drugged up. Dr. Norris told us you’re going to be all right. I guess they had a time getting your bleeding under control. Allow the site time to heal before you try moving all over the place. Okay?”

  Noticing the back of his hand, which was pink and swollen over the IV site, she smoothed the tape and untangled the line at the same time.

  Ed licked his lips. His words, dry and raspy. “Cody?”

  “The next twenty-four hours will tell. But Dr. Daniels said the surgery went wonderfully. Little guy’s holding his own better than expected.”

  He sighed and Rochelle noted the gratitude in his voice. “Thank God.”

  Ed’s gaze glazed over.

  “Amen to that.” She leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “Hey, are you still awake?”

  His hand, with the IV pulling against him, lifted and he tried to brush her face, but the line prevented his touch. “Sort of.”

  “Here.” She bent down to accept his fingers caressing her cheek and then tucked his hand back under the sheet so he’d stay warm. “Would you like a drink? The nurse said it’s all right if you have a sip.”

  “Anything to wet my lips.”

  Straightening to grasp the glass firmly in her hand, she offered him the water through a straw. “I’ll hold it for you.”

  “Thanks.” He groaned. “Man … this hurts. Ring the nurse?”

  “Be happy to.” She pressed the buzzer. “Ed, I am going to step out for a few minutes. I have an appointment with Dr. Reinholdt.”

  His eyes snapped open. “No! You shouldn’t go there … alone. Not with … your suspicions.”

  Then they crossed as he tried to focus. She noticed he closed them between each word.

  “I’ll be fine, Ed. I promise. Would you like anything before I go?”

  “Maybe some fresh water. That was sort of warm.”

  She stepped away to the nurses’ station. A quick look at her watch said she had to hurry. Finally, the nurse returned with
the fresh water, and Rochelle stepped back to Ed’s room.

  What? She looked at the number again. Right room. Wrong woman kissing Ed.

  The container of water slipped from her hand. Ed pushed at the woman. “Rochelle?” Then he looked at the woman. “Alicia, what are you doing here?”

  But Rochelle didn’t wait for her to answer.

  #

  In plenty of time to avoid rush hour, Rochelle swerved off I-94 and drove the six miles to the clinic without hitting one red light. All green, two times in one week. Something had to go right in her life. Guiding the car into the parking lot, she maneuvered into a slot near the building’s back entrance.

  The sun glared off snow mounds still remaining from the huge storm a few days ago. They were pushed up on either side and down the middle. She could only see a few cars.

  Three o’clock on a Friday, nearly closing time; the last class started after lunch and should have finished at least an hour ago.

  Rochelle didn’t want to have this meeting. She wanted to go back to the hospital and clock that nervy woman then give Ed a piece of her mind, but she’d made the appointment.

  Though her heart wouldn’t be in discussing babies and pregnant moms.

  CHAPTER 91

  KYLE WOULD WAIT FOR Rochelle all day if he had to. He’d followed her here and planned to end all of this running around once and for all. Her life, the decision whether she lived or died, belonged to him. Didn’t she feel it?

  If only she and her family hadn’t ruined his life, he would have celebrated his twenty-first birthday with his parents, maybe even a girlfriend.

  But what girl would want a loser like him? He’d probably end up like his old man. In spite of the fact he passed himself off as a security guard for the Kingsman Agency, he was nothing but a phony. Jeff still thought he’d started training, but they wouldn’t take him. Too many drug charges.

  After he hooked up with Rochelle and finished what he had planned, maybe he and the old man could share a cell. The thought curled his lip. Naw, he wouldn’t wanna have to listen to the preaching. Every card and letter had reminded Kyle of his early years. Happy family, church on Sundays. Roasted chicken and chocolate cake.