by Chrys Fey
Donovan’s head lowered when he realized she was on the floor. He dropped to his knees. “Are you sure?” He touched her forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”
“Don’t worry about me, Donovan. I’m not the one who was in a car accident last night.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sore, stiff?”
“I’m fine.” He brushed aside her concern. “What about you?”
She tried to sweep aside his concern as well. “It’s probably just stress.”
“Or it’s the stomach virus. It’s been going around.” He took the towel from her, refolded it to get to the cool side, and pressed it to the back of her neck. “Or…” He paused. “Or maybe you’re pregnant.” The mixture of hope and concern in his eyes made her heart tremble.
She shook her head. “I took a pregnancy test last week. It was negative. And if I miraculously got pregnant the other night, I wouldn’t be dealing with morning sickness so soon.” She frowned. “Or at least I don’t think so.”
“You should take another test just to be sure.”
Her gaze strayed to the drawer where the loot of pregnancy tests and ovulation tests waited for her to use them. Last week, she had used all seven ovulation sticks in a box to figure out which two days were her peak fertility days. It was the week her fertility doctor said she’d be ovulating. Except, she wasn’t. Each time the results said her LH surge was low. She used the pregnancy test in the pack, the final test, and it was negative. They were always negative.
“Sure.” She started to push herself off the ground. Donovan caught her arm and brought her to her feet. Her legs felt wobbly, and her stomach was still queasy. She opened the drawer and selected a pregnancy test that was supposed to tell you if you were pregnant five days before your expected period. She waved the box in the air. “Get out of here so I can pee on a stick.” She managed a smile though she didn’t feel at all chipper.
Donovan excused himself. While she waited the three minutes, she sat on the closed toilet seat with her bath towel wrapped around her shoulders. She couldn’t stop herself from stealing peeks at the test every thirty seconds, willing the answer to reveal itself sooner. When it did, she picked it up to show it to Donovan. She was surprised to see him sitting on the edge of their bed, with his hands clasped and his head down. If she had known he was there, waiting, and not downstairs, she would’ve opened the door right away so they could wait together. She held the strip out to him. He took it and saw the single line. The negative line. She shrugged when he lowered his hand and looked up at her.
“Maybe you should call out sick today, anyway. You might have a bug.”
She sat on the bed next to him, with the towel still around her shoulders like a shawl. “I don’t want to call out. I lost all that time with my students when I was doing physical therapy. One of my students just lost her home, and I got a brand-new student who waited to come until she knew I was there, because she didn’t want to take classes without me.”
Donovan frowned. “Who?”
“April.” When she didn’t see recognition, she elaborated, “The young woman beaten by Ramirez? I had told her to come to my studio to learn to defend herself. She did, but we were in Oahu.” She paused as she pushed back the tsunami memories trying to resurface. “She came back when I was out for therapy and still she didn’t sign up. She had her first class yesterday, and I don’t want to disappoint her by not being there today.”
Donovan nodded. “Okay. Then cancel your first class, take it easy, and see how you feel when it’s time to leave for your second class. If your stomach feels just a little squeamish, stay home.”
She knew that was the best compromise. “I will. I promise.”
Donovan cracked open a bottle of sports water and set a sleeve of crackers on the end table next to Beth. “I’m going to the department to check on my truck and see if they’ve found any answers. If you need me, call. I could get Thorn to give me a police escort.”
Beth smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to lay here with my drink and crackers and watch some reruns. If I decide to go in to work, I’ll let you know.”
He seemed reluctant to leave, and it warmed her. “I mean it, Goldwyn. I’m fine.”
“All right.” He kissed the top of her head twice before leaving.
She adjusted the hot water bottle on her belly and shifted into the couch cushions to watch her favorite sister-witches.
When the two episodes ended, she took a shower and called Donovan.
He answered with, “Are you okay?”
She laughed. “Yes, I was just calling to say I’m much better, and I’m going in to work. I think it was just everything that happened yesterday and the cheeseburgers we ate when we got home last night.”
“Okay, but if you start to feel sick at work—”
“I’ll upchuck on the mat in front of my students.” She chuckled. “I’ll sit down. If that doesn’t work, I’ll come straight home.”
As soon as she convinced Donovan she had her upset stomach handled, she headed out the door. Instead of going straight to work, though, she took a detour to Lori’s house. A house wasn’t there, though. The whole street had been reduced to ash. Burned two-by-fours in the four corners of Lori’s house stood like gnawed bones. There was no green anywhere, not a blade of grass or a leaf on a tree. The oak that had stood tall behind a backdrop of flames yesterday was now a black skeleton.
She parked in front of the ruins and got out of her car. Smoky air swooped around her like transparent, arsenic wings. It was quiet. Wind didn’t rustle through leaves, grasshoppers and bugs didn’t emit their little creaks, and birds didn’t chirp as they hopped from branch to branch. No life. Just death.
There weren’t even any other cars on the road, or the one behind it, which she could see without the brush obscuring her vision. Filthy water flooded the foot of the driveway. She jumped over it and walked up the driveway littered with curls of ash. They crumbled like dust beneath her sneakers. At the edge of the house’s foundation, she stared at the piles of dead embers. She couldn’t even tell where any of the rooms had been.
Squatting, she picked up a piece of charred wood. Black rubbed off onto her hand. She dropped the wood and stood up while wiping her palm against her jean shorts.
Ducking under the caution tape, she stepped into the ruins. Her shoes crunched rubble-like charcoal. Smoke rose off piles. Everything was blackened and slightly damp from the water pumped onto the house by the firefighters. She picked her way with careful steps. Near the center, she found an oven buried in wood. The once-smooth surface had rusted. Several feet away, the fridge lay on its side. The black paint had melted off. Scorch marks covered the dented metal. Nothing else was recognizable.
She tramped through the rubble to the cement pathway leading to the front door. Moving across the yard, her sneakers dug into ash and dirt, covering the wet soles with black flakes and brown grains. She went to the oak and pressed her hand to the blackened tree trunk. Seeing the oak without a speck of green saddened her. Did life lurk beneath the layers of burnt bark? Years from now, would it flourish with color? She hoped so.
On her way to her car, she pulled out her cell phone.
“Hello?” The woman’s voice on the other end sounded exhausted.
“Hey, Lori. It’s Beth. How are you and your family?”
Lori sniffed. “We’re okay. We’re staying at my sister’s.” Her voice shook. “We…we lost everything.”
Sobs touched Beth’s ears, breaking her heart. What she felt when her childhood home was damaged by Hurricane Sabrina and had to be demolished didn’t compare to this woman’s agony. Beth had been able to salvage a lot, and now her new home was built on that very lot. But Lori had nothing left. Not a scrap of clothing, picture, or book.
“I’m so sorry, Lori. I…I’m going to start a collection at The Fighting Chance for your family. I’ll pass out fliers to everyone. We’ll get you your basics and whatever necessities your family needs.”
&nbs
p; “Th-thank you.”
“If there is anything Donovan and I can do, please let us know. And keep us updated on how you guys are doing.”
“I will. Thank you. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Beth hung up with a heavy heart, wishing she could do more. Maybe I can. She considered the money in her separate account—apart from their joint account used for mortgage and bills. With her money, she could buy Lori’s family a lot of basics.
She turned to her car, wanting to start her shopping spree, and noticed a black sports car stopped at the end of the road. The moment she noticed it, the car sped off with a squeal of tires. Her heart launched into her throat. She put a hand to her chest as her knees weakened. The memory of the black sedan spying on her and ramming into her bumper over a year ago came back to her with such force her stomach lurched.
She ran to the side of the road for cover, and then she realized there were no bushes and fell onto her knees where grass use to be. She threw up what little she had kept down earlier that morning. The rancid smell of burnt wood clogging her nostrils made her gag harder. She forced air between her teeth and coughed when smoke rubbed against her raw throat.
Hands shaking, cold and sweaty, she drove away from the fire-ravaged neighborhood toward The Fighting Chance. Corissa was already there when she arrived.
“Do you have antacid, or anything to settle an upset stomach?”
Corissa lifted her backpack off the floor to root inside it. “Are you sick?”
“I threw up twice.”
Corissa looked as though she wanted to spray Beth from head to toe with disinfectant and bathe herself in hand sanitizer.
“I don’t have the flu. I think it’s just stress.”
Corissa took a travel-size container of antacid out of her backpack and handed it to Beth. She shook five colorful tablets into her palm, popped them into her mouth, and crunched on them as she went to the backroom for a bottle of water. The tablets turned to chalk in her mouth. She swallowed it with a shudder and used water to wash it down. After sitting for ten minutes, she felt ready to teach.
When it was time for lunch, she ate crackers in her car while driving to the store. She had an hour before her next set of classes began. At the store, she filled the cart with one hygiene item each for women, men, and children. She added pillows, pillowcases, and blankets. Then she tossed in a few other goodies like candy, a few books, and two board games. She walked back into her studio with bags weighing her down.
“What’s all that?” Corissa asked.
“It’s for Lori and her family.” She unloaded the bags in the far corner. Under her arm, she had a white poster board. She took it over to the front desk. “We’re starting a collection. Can you make a sign for the wall and print out fliers to hand out to everyone as they leave?”
“No problem.”
Beth was in the middle of teaching her second beginner’s class when Donovan arrived. She looked over as she corrected April’s stance and told her to throw another punch. “There you go. Perfect form. I’ll be right back.” Slipping past April and her other students, she met up with Donovan at the front desk.
Donovan waved at someone behind her.
Beth glanced over her shoulder to see April waving back. Smiling, she stopped in front of Donovan. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I’m checking in on my sick wife.”
She playfully whacked his arm. “You’re making me sound terminal. For the hundredth time, I’m fine. I’ve been kicking ass all over this blue mat.”
His violet eyes fell to slits. “Did you eat anything for lunch?”
“Crackers.”
He gave her a stern look.
“I know, I know. I’ll have soup and peppermint tea for dinner…upset stomach cures.” She decided to change the conversation. “Did you see your truck?”
Donovan’s stern expression turned pained. “Yeah.” His shoulders lowered. “I’m going to have to replace the entire front end.”
“Damn. I’m sorry. Did they find anything?”
He sighed. “Not yet. They’re just starting.”
“I hope they can find out what happened and why,” she said, hating the idea someone had sabotaged her husband’s truck to cause him harm. Even death.
Donovan trailed a finger down her arm. “They will.” His gaze shifted. “What’s all that?”
She looked toward the bags in the corner. “I’m starting a collection for Lori’s family. Everyone is going to try to donate something. New and used.”
“And your students brought all of that in today?”
“No. I did.” She gave him a skeptical smile. “I bought that during my lunch break with my extra money. I had to do something.”
Donovan lifted his hand and touched a stray lock of her hair. “You’re amazing.”
She shrugged. “I’m just doing what I can.”
He smiled. “Are you accepting money donations?”
“Yeah, of course.” She frowned as he took out his wallet and located the spare check behind some bills he kept for emergencies.
“We have a lot in savings,” he said as he filled it out. “I think we can spare this.”
She gawked when she saw it was for one thousand dollars. “Donovan. Are you sure?”
“They have two kids. They need it more than we do.”
Donovan’s compassion and generosity made her heart swell. She stepped up to him and put her hands on his chest. “I married the best man in the world.” Leaning in, she touched her lips to his. “In the galaxy.” She kissed him again. “On this side of the universe.”
He pulled her to him, held the back of her head, and deepened the kiss.
Applause, hoots, and whistles sounded from behind her. She laughed into the kiss as her students egged them on.
Donovan left before her last class started, although he had threatened to stay during the whole thing until she insisted she felt fine. No weakness, no light headedness. And she had to talk to Amanda today. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
Amanda was the first to arrive, as usual, ten minutes early. Beth appreciated her punctual nature. She knew she’d be able to count on Amanda to show up when she needed her. “Hey, Amanda, can we talk a minute?”
Amanda set down her bag. A worried look took over her face. Her smile vanished, and her eyebrows lowered. She swallowed. Her hands fumbled as they smoothed her workout top, a nervous act Beth had seen her do a couple of times before, as if she were making sure to conceal the scar on her abdomen.
Beth smiled to reassure her. “Don’t worry. It’s good. I wanted to ask you to be my new assistant for the advanced class. You’re here every day, before everyone else, and I’ve used you for demonstrations before. You’re also very good with the other students. They trust you. And, right now, trust is important. They need someone they can feel comfortable with. You’re a familiar face. Plus, you’re a sweetheart. One who can kick ass. So, you’re the assistant The Fighting Chance needs. What do you say?”
The entire time Beth spoke, a smile bloomed wider and wider on Amanda’s face. Her eyes lit up with the same life Beth saw whenever Amanda was on the mat with her gloves on.
It was the same light that had been in Beth’s eyes when she became an assistant to her teacher.
“Yes. Yes, times a hundred. I won’t let you down!”
What Amanda did next surprised Beth; Amanda hugged her. Amanda didn’t touch anyone unless it was while participating in a lesson. Beth hoped this meant the classes were helping her to rebuild her confidence and comfort level with others.
“I know you won’t let me down,” Beth said. “There’s just one thing to do to make it official.” She picked up the employee packet on the front desk and gave it to Amanda with a pen.
Amanda took the pen. She stared at it in her fingers a moment. Then she glanced at the wall of signatures in the back of the studio. Somewhere on that wall, she had signed her name after her first class two years ago. She looked back at
Beth. With a grin, she started to fill out the application. In seconds, she had gone from a student to an assistant. From experience, Beth knew that feeling was unforgettable. Without a doubt, she knew she had made the right choice.
****
After she locked up the studio, went home, and showered, she shuffled into the kitchen in her robe and slippers to find Donovan heating up a can of chicken noodle soup on the stove. She couldn’t help but smile. His attentiveness when she wasn’t feeling well was the sweetest thing she had ever experienced. When she had come home, he kissed her and laid a hand on her forehead to see if she felt hot. She had laughed and batted his hand away, but his gesture warmed her.
When the soup bubbled, he turned off the stove and transferred the soup to a bowl. He delivered it to her at the table. “You’re so sweet.”
“I told you I’d take care of you when you’re sick.” He had made that promise when they were in San Francisco, hunting his brother’s killer.
“You’ve taken care of me a lot more than just when I’ve been sick,” she said, thinking of the aftermath of the trauma she experienced in Oahu. His patience with her had been remarkable. Not many men would’ve handled her physical limitations and mental pain as he had.
He bent over and kissed the top of her head. “I’d do it all again, for the rest of my life.”
She picked up the spoon. “Just as long as your life lasts eighty years or more,” she said, and blew on the hot soup. His crash in his monster truck was enough to shake her up, but knowing it could be malicious scared her even more.
He sat down next to her, took her free hand, and brought it to his lips. “Deal.”
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Donovan was sitting at the table scanning the newspapers when Beth came up behind him and started to knead his shoulders. Her fingers worked out the kinks in his muscles. He let his eyes close as he enjoyed the impromptu massage. She applied pressure in strokes down his neck and along his spine. After a few minutes, he caught her hand as she massaged his shoulders and arms.
“I’m fine,” he said. “My restraints didn’t let me move an inch. No whiplash, no strains.”
