Close Encounters

by Kitt, Sandra

  “You don’t even like my parents,” she said reflectively.

  “It’s not that I don’t like them.” Matt shook his head. “But they had no business trying to raise a black child.”

  “It’s always bothered you that they’re white.”

  “About as much as it bothers you.”

  Carol was about to deny it automatically when she realized she couldn’t. She had spent a lot of her adolescence being conflicted about her family, but did the fact that her parents were white really matter, considering that they’d wanted her, had fought to keep her… and loved her?

  Lee approached the young officer posted outside the door, restlessly pacing. He heard a low conversation between two people coming from Carol Taggart’s room a few feet away.

  “How long have you been here?” Lee asked the officer.

  “Forever,” the young man said, then caught himself. “Ah, sorry, sir,” he corrected. “Since about midnight. I was sent to replace one of the undercover guys. You here to take over?”

  Lee shook his head. “Sorry. You’ll have to wait for your relief. I’m Lieutenant Grafton.” He glanced toward the door. “How’s it going?”

  “Okay. Kind of quiet. Couple of brass came to talk to the woman, but they didn’t stay long. Doctors and nurses. Some black guy. Maybe a boyfriend. He’s with her now.”

  Lee nodded. “I’ll spot you for fifteen minutes. Go take a walk or get some coffee.”

  “Thanks,” the officer said gratefully and rushed off.

  Lee leaned against the wall and half listened to what was being said inside the room. Carol Taggart’s parents were mentioned. The man’s relationship to them. Hers as well. Lee was confused about the references to race.

  After a moment or so, good-byes were exchanged. Finally a man exited the room. He was tall and thin, with glasses and dreadlocks, dressed casually in a turtleneck sweater and cords, topped by a three-quarter-length brown leather coat.

  The man didn’t spare Lee a glance as he left. Lee stood outside the door for a while longer, not sure what he was doing there. Curiosity? Something more? When he finally looked inside the room, it took a second to register that Carol Taggart was in trouble. She was out of the bed, bent over the edge, holding on with one hand. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to get off or climbing back on. She blinked at the sight of him standing in the doorway.

  “I … I’m going to pass … out,” she said in a thin voice.

  Lee rushed over to her before she began to slump. He grabbed her arm; she clutched the IV stand for support. He placed his other hand on her hip and waist to hold her steady. “I got you,” he reassured her.

  Lee felt her cold, damp skin. The back of the hospital gown was open, tied only at the neck. Gauze pads covered a small area on her back and under her arm. She cringed in pain when he grabbed her. She was naked under the gown, and her limbs were trembling.

  He couldn’t help seeing her. Or feeling the shape of her body through the thin gown. His response was still a surprise, however. He was both shaken and embarrassed to have caught Carol Taggart at such a vulnerable moment. The urge to walk away and let someone else handle the situation clashed with an equally strong need to protect her.

  She was thin; he felt her hipbone, her smooth, warm female skin. He sensed also her tenacious strength, the toughness of someone who didn’t give up easily. Her knees began to buckle and Lee repositioned his grip on her waist. She let out a low grunt again.

  “Let me call someone,” he said.

  “No. Just … turn me around. Help me get back on the bed.”

  Carol pushed herself free of him and attempted to move on her own. The effort cost her, and she grimaced, biting her lower lip. Lee hesitated, then finally put an arm around her and bent to lift her under the knees. Her feet cleared the floor and he laid her on the bed. She hissed at the sudden jarring of her body. The sound made Lee wince. He backed away and set the IV stand in place next to her.

  “Stay still,” he ordered.

  “Please don’t call the nurse. I just needed to use the bathroom.”

  “Why didn’t you call for someone to help you?”

  Carol shook her head as she looked briefly at him. “You wouldn’t have. It’s embarrassing.”

  Her astute observation surprised him. “If you’d fallen, you would have been more than embarrassed.”

  “I just got … a little dizzy. I’m okay now.”

  She lay with her eyes closed, catching her breath. She had used her right hand and arm, the left arm held bent and pressed close to her side where she’d taken the bullet. Her features were tense with pain, but she didn’t complain. There were no tears. He was impressed.

  Carol suddenly opened her eyes and stared at him. Lee stared back. He wondered if she was trying to place him. It made him a bit uneasy. He noticed that she had thick, dark hair gathered in a twist at the back, a high forehead and large, dark eyes. Her lips were well shaped. Lee knew for a certainty now, if he hadn’t before, that this woman had had nothing to do with Earl Willey and his crew.

  Which meant they had a problem.

  She rested her head against the pillows and regarded him through half-closed lids.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  “Who are you?”

  He put his hand in his pocket to take out the shield, but suddenly realized how foolish that would seem. Instead, he took out one of his business cards. He rarely used them, and the one he found was slightly dog-eared. “Lieutenant Grafton.” He came close enough to hand her the card.

  Carol didn’t immediately look at the information. “From headquarters,” she guessed. “Internal Affairs or public affairs…”

  “None of the above. I’m from Special Operations and the Anti-Crime Unit.”

  He knew she didn’t understand. He didn’t intend that she should.

  “Someone’s already been here to see you,” he said.

  “Two men this morning. My doctor made them leave. They’re going to come back, I guess. They both wanted to know what I could tell them about the shooting.” Carol frowned. “Not an awful lot, I’m afraid. I seem to have … blanked it out.”

  He let her talk, fascinated by the fact that Carol Taggart was totally unlike what he had imagined about her. If he’d encountered hostility, threats, angry abuse, he would have instantly absolved himself of any need for an apology. It bewildered him, however, that he would even consider one.

  “So, what do you want, Lieutenant… Grafton, is it?”

  Lee suddenly realized that it would be out of character to admit to being curious about her condition; the truth was, normally he wouldn’t have been. But he couldn’t lie to her. He had the sense that her BS detector was calibrated and functioning.

  “This is not an official visit, Ms. Taggart. I … er … I was here on another matter and… and decided to check on the officer stationed outside your room.”

  “Ummm,” she murmured thoughtfully, staring at him. “Why is he there, anyway? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “It’s standard procedure under the circumstances.”

  “What circumstances?”

  He lifted a brow. “You know, I’m the one who should be asking the questions.”

  “You said this wasn’t official.”

  “But the incident is under investigation.”

  “Oh. Now I’m an … incident,” Carol murmured thoughtfully. “Can you tell me anything about that night?”

  “Probably not.”

  Carol held his gaze. “Am I under investigation too?”

  Lee shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to speak with someone from headquarters about that. You’ll have a chance to ask questions when they return later.”

  “I don’t know a lot about the police except for what I read in the papers. No one trusts the police anymore, you know. I’m not sure I should.”

  “I’m not asking you to trust me.”

  Carol glanced at his card again.
Lt. Lee Grafton. Her interest was piqued. Why was he here for this unofficial visit?

  “What do you want?” she asked softly. “To find out if I’m still alive? I am, as you can see. Although the nurse said they lost me for a few minutes in triage.”

  Lee returned her stare. He wondered if Carol Taggart was seeking some acknowledgment of what she’d gone through. Some recognition that facing death had had a profound effect on her.

  “I know,” he said. It was at least an admission that her experience might have been emotionally as well as physically traumatic. As it now seemed to be for him. He was still trying to figure out how.

  “And even knowing that, there’s nothing you can tell me?”

  Lee shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation.”

  Voices in the hallway grew louder as they approached the room. Lee assumed that she was about to receive more visitors, although her wary expression suggested she might not necessarily welcome them. Finally two people walked purposefully into the room. They gave him only a brief glance, their attention focused entirely on Carol Taggart. Lee stood aside.

  Both were beyond middle age, the man tall and portly without appearing to be actually fat. The woman was youthfully slender, with graying hair. They were both white. They rushed to the bed, the woman with outstretched arms.

  “Carol, honey … my God, what happened?”

  They crowded around the bed, reaching out to touch the young black woman in the bed.

  “Are you okay? How bad is it?” the man asked in a deep voice with a Midwestern accent.

  Lee knew that this was the ideal time to slip away unnoticed, but the unfolding scene held him rooted to the spot.

  “Oh, you didn’t have to make the trip here. I’m sorry if Matt scared you.” Carol embraced the woman, who clung to her. The man bent over them both to kiss the top of her head. “Dad, it’s not serious. Mom, please don’t cry …”

  Lee turned and quietly left the room.

  Chapter Three

  “EVERYONE HAS BEEN TELLING us that you’ll be fine,” Jim Taggart said, half sitting on the bed near Carol’s feet. “The nurse filled us in when we said we wanted to see you.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “She made us show her some identification.”

  “Don’t go making so much of it. I’m sure they have to check all visitors,” Rosemary Taggart added reasonably.

  “Don’t take it personally, Dad,” Carol added. “They’re under orders from the police to question everyone because of their investigation.”

  Carol glanced quickly beyond them, but Lieutenant Lee Grafton had slipped away during her parents’ emotional arrival, without revealing why he’d come to see her. As she listened to her parents express relief and gratitude that she was all right, she couldn’t help but wonder what Lee Grafton had made of them.

  To outsiders, it must seem strange—a black woman with white parents. As a child, she’d listened to her parents insist that there was absolutely nothing unusual about their having adopted and raised her. The fact that their other two children, Wesley and Ann, were also white hardly penetrated their consciousness. They were truly color-blind, which had only exacerbated her troubles, Carol knew. Her childhood had thrust her into a netherland that no one understood. It had been lonely and confusing there for a long time.

  Her father’s bedtime story and explanation that God’s children came in all colors simply didn’t work for her when she was young and trying to understand where she belonged. No matter what God intended, the world she lived in had other ideas. She had seen all too clearly that there were differences, and she had experienced the fallout. The Santa Claus at the annual church pageant had been white… like everyone in her family except herself. And she remembered the taunting she’d suffered at school because of being black, because of being adopted… because of her hair. They’d called her Brillo Pad. She’d grown her hair long and wild in angry defiance until finally, at fifteen, she realized that she was letting her classmates define and judge her instead of being proud of what made her special. Her parents couldn’t just tell her she was special. She had to find it out on her own.

  That discovery had taken a long time, Carol remembered, as she reflected on the many other ways she’d found to rebel. Like getting into trouble at school. Like running away. Her mother squeezed her hand, and Carol brought her attention back to her parents’ worried expressions.

  “I’m okay. I promise,” Carol assured her mother yet again.

  “Matt told us you’d had an accident,” Rosemary was saying. “He could have told us the truth. What if it had been worse and… and your father and I hadn’t gotten here in time?” She sat in a chair pulled up close to the bed, holding Carol’s hand.

  Carol said patiently, “Matt told you all he knew. Even now the police aren’t giving out a lot of information.”

  “Maybe I should go have a talk with them,” Jim said firmly. “We have a right to know what happened and what they’re doing about it. And why is there an officer outside your room?”

  “Dad, I’m part of the investigation. Two men from the police department were here this morning. I’m sure they’ll be back.”

  “I just want to make sure they’re taking this seriously,” he said.

  Carol was familiar with her father’s tendency to take charge and demand answers. His stubborn persistence combined with his absolute faith and profound honesty were usually enough to convert people to his way of thinking. It was hard not only to deny him but also to fault him. James Taggart had God on his side, and he wasn’t afraid to say so.

  But Carol didn’t want her father’s conviction in God’s will to interfere with the police. She had no faith that they would tolerate his zealousness, his rushing to her rescue with parental indignation. She especially didn’t want to be swallowed up in mediaworthy revelations about her family background. She didn’t want to become front-page news again.

  “How long are you staying?” Carol asked. “Where are your things?”

  “We left our bags at the nurses’ station,” Jim replied. “We’ll stay as long as we need to. How long are they going to keep you here?”

  “Just another day or two. They’ve been taking X-rays to make sure my lung stays inflated. But I didn’t need surgery, so I’m healing fast. I can return to work next week if I want.”

  “Then we’ll stay at your place and fly back home in a few days, if that’s okay,” Rosemary suggested.

  “Of course it is.” Carol nodded.

  Jim patted her blanket-covered legs. “Mom and I are real sorry about Max, Carol.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “What happened to his body?” Rosemary asked.

  “They took it to the city ASPCA. I never got to see him again.”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Jim crooned sympathetically. “We know how much you loved him. I’ll say a prayer for Max, and certainly for whoever shot you both. Matt told me I should let the shooter burn in hell. I thought I’d straightened him out about the concept of hell,” Jim said wryly.

  “I think Matt was probably just trying to push your buttons.”

  “So what’s going on with you two?” Rosemary asked. “You aren’t seeing each other again, are you?”

  Carol quickly recalled the night she and Matt had spent together. For sex. For old times’ sake. It had already occurred to her how differently that early morning might have been if she hadn’t insisted that Matt leave before dawn.

  “Matt and I are just trying to be friends,” she finally answered.

  “I wish you’d done that from the beginning instead of marrying him,” Jim said.

  “You forget that I loved him,” Carol defended.

  “He wasn’t the man for you,” Jim insisted.

  “Jim…” Rosemary whispered to her husband.

  “If not Matt, then who?” Carol asked, her irritation building despite her best efforts.

  “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting
involved with someone who would be a bad influence on you,” Jim said. “It was my responsibility as your father.”

  Jim Taggart’s assertion, like a probe to a still-raw wound, reminded Carol that there was still a lot that her parents didn’t understand about what was best for her. She didn’t doubt their genuine love and concern for her. But they didn’t get it that being black carried a unique set of demands that couldn’t be ignored. It used to make her angry that they couldn’t make them go away. That their love wasn’t enough to protect her from having to justify herself.

  Carol felt her mouth tighten. “It was my right to fall in love with whomever I wanted,” she told her parents. “Did you dislike Matt because he was a musician? Because he wore dreadlocks? Or just because he was black? Which would have been funny under the circumstance, don’t you think?”

  “You know better than that,” Rosemary said quietly. “If race was an issue, we couldn’t be a family.”

  Carol sighed. “I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say. My point is I had more in common with Matt than with any of the men you and Dad liked.”

  “You’re right, Carol,” Rosemary said. “And I don’t want you and Jim to fight about this again. Anyway… you know we’ve always believed a person’s character and spirit are what matters, not how they’re packaged.”

  “Well, it didn’t work out between me and Matt anyway, so let’s not get into it. I’m just so glad you’re here.”

  Carol softened at the look of love and concern on her parents’ faces. They’d chosen her, made her part of their family, and endured considerable challenges to keep her. At some point she’d stopped wanting to get away. And ever since the shooting she’d been thinking about going home to them.

  Jim stood up and began to put on his coat. “We’d better let you rest. We can come back a little later, after we settle in at the apartment.”

  “Do you have the keys?” Carol asked.

  “Yes,” Rosemary replied. “Do you want us to bring you anything?”

  Carol shook her head, smiling at them. “I feel bad that you had to make the trip, but it’s good to see you.”