An Equal Measure

by Bliss Addison

  Chapter Five

  “Anywhere along here is fine,” I said as Trish turned into the drive leading to the hospital.

  “I’ll wait. Maybe we can have that drink later.”

  I looked at her and smiled. “Sure.” Truthfully, all I wanted was to crash at Amy’s and sleep for twelve hours.

  “It is.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

  I hopped from the car, watched where she parked the car, then walked into the hospital.

  I made it past the duty station without the Hun Watson noticing. Not that another confrontation with her scared me, but I was pooped. It took all of my remaining strength to make it to Amy’s room. Seduction was energy-consuming.

  I sighed with relief when I spotted the comfortable chair at my sister’s bedside. Turning toward the corner where the bedsitter sat, I said, “Hi, Linda. I’m Josie. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

  Linda stood, like a soldier at attention. “Yes. How are you?”

  “Fine, thanks. If you’d like to take a break, I’ll sit with Amy.”

  Linda ran from the room. Was it something I said, or something she heard about me? I’d take bets on the latter.

  I planted the doll on the windowsill and sat. I took Amy’s hand and kissed it. “Hiya, sweetie. I had a very eventful and productive day.” I told her about my seduction of Jackson Carlisle. “I still can’t believe I pulled it off. It was the bustier that cinched it, I think. Imagine me who went to the high school prom with the school’s biggest geek, convincing a rogue like Jackson Carlisle out of his clothes. It was priceless. I wish you could have been there.” I giggled, picturing him standing naked in his office, a sheet of paper covering his genitals while firefighters came to his rescue. “I imagine someone liberated him by now. I would have liked for the entire city to see his bare ass, but we can’t always have our way, can we? The ingrate. He deserved worse for what he did to you.”

  Amy’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Oh my God.” I jumped to my feet and yelled her name. “Oh my God. You’re awake.” I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed.

  “Josie?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  I stepped backward, making no attempt to stem the flow of tears rolling from my eyes. Understanding the reason behind her frown, I said, patting my hair, “I had a do-over.”

  “It’s totally you,” she said.

  That’s my Amy. Supportive to a fault. Then I thought to alert someone. “A nurse. I should get you a nurse. Doctor Coville needs to know you’re awake. He has some explaining to do.” I reached the door before she stopped me. I turned and walked back.

  “They already know. I woke a little while ago. A nurse called your cell, but you didn’t answer. She left a message.”

  I smiled, remembering what I was doing at the time.

  Amy shielded her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “What is it?” I asked, worrying she was experiencing a setback. “Do you have a headache? Of course, your head would be sore. You had brain surgery. I’ll get you medication.” I was babbling, but couldn’t stop myself. I was so happy to have Amy back. I never wanted anything to happen to her again.

  “It’s your teeth. They’re so glossy...and white.”

  “They are, aren’t they? I smiled at myself in the elevator and almost set the car on fire.” Amy was well on her way to a full recovery if she could tease me.

  She pointed at the windowsill. “What’s in the box?”

  “A doll. For you.” I lifted the box lid and stood the Hertwig China on her feet.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  I knew she would love her. Amy’s eyes shone like the moon, her smile growing wider with each passing second.

  “I’d like to hold her.”

  I put the apple-cheeked doll in Amy’s hands and watched her examine the intricate details of the black taffeta dress, delighting in her delight.

  She looked past the doll’s head and asked, “Jos, who’s Jackson Carlisle?”

  I sputtered a moment, thinking she’d lost her short term memory. From research on cases like Amy’s, I’d learned some memory loss sometimes occurred. If that were the case, Amy wouldn’t remember Carlisle. She wouldn’t feel the hurt from his rejection either.

  I didn’t know how or if I should even approach the topic of the man who was responsible for her accident. Should I say nothing, tell a lie or the truth? I decided on the latter. “He’s the man you were dating at the time of the accident.”

  Amy shook her head. “I was going out with Chris Roberts.”

  “What?” I all but yelled. “I thought it was Jackson Carlisle.” I was sure, in fact. “I found his card on your hallway table.”

  “Not his card, but Sy Taylor’s. He works for Carlisle and was helping me locate a pair of antique cufflinks for Chris. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  I couldn’t think of anything to say but, “Oh”. Oh my. I humiliated someone for no good reason. How would I live with myself? First thing in the morning, I’d head straight to Carlisle Antiques and apologize to Jackson.

  “We broke up,” she said.

  I noticed her face turning sad and waited for the memory to catch up to her. It didn’t. “Do you remember what happened after?”

  Her fingers fiddled with the fold of the blanket covering her. “I was upset and went for a drive.”

  “And?

  She closed her eyes. Amy always did that when she brought memories back from the past. After a moment, she shook her head. “I can’t remember.”

  I patted her hand. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t force the memory.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him. We kept our relationship a secret, because...”

  “It doesn’t matter now. It’s in the past.”

  Amy looked at me, opening her eyes wide, like she experienced an epiphany. “I remember. How’s my car?”

  I didn’t know any other way to tell her but direct. “Totalled.”

  “Damn. I’ll never get another to replace it.”

  “Amy, why didn’t you come to me? We could have talked. I could have helped. I can’t imagine how distraught you must have felt to want to take your life, but – ”

  She gaped at me. “You think I tried to kill myself?”

  “You didn’t?” But all the evidence pointed to suicide. What was I supposed to think? The cop said there wasn’t anything the matter with the brakes on her car and she made no attempt to stop.

  She shook her head. “Something happened to the steering just as I came into the turn. I had no control over the car. My stupid fault for not tending to the maintenance, as I should. The last time I drove the car, I noticed the wheel tightening up a few times.”

  “Oh.” Oh God. Could I have gotten the truth more twisted?

  She looked at me. “Where’d you get the outfit? I never saw you wear leather before.”

  “They’re your clothes. Don’t you recognize them? I found the bustier in your armoire and the pants and bolero in your closet.” When Amy was fully recovered, I intended to talk to her about the whip, handcuffs, spiked collar and mask I’d also found in her dresser.

  “The tags were still attached?”

  “Yes!”

  She nodded. “There were some ...er paraphernalia too.”

  “Yes!” Amy and I could always talk to each other about anything, or at least anything not involving an affair with a married man.

  “They aren’t mine. On my last buying trip for the store, I bought those items at a discount for a friend. You thought they belonged to me, huh?” Amy squeezed her lips together, apparently trying not to laugh.

  “Laugh, go ahead. I know you want to.”

  Over the course of the last few days, I learned several significant lessons. The most important of which was never to take anyone or anything for granted – life could fold on us in an instant. The second was never to assume anything – assumptions were for asses.
What might seem correct was not necessarily right, as with the facts leading me to believe Jackson Carlisle was the culprit responsible for Amy’s heartache.

  The most valuable lesson I learned from this experience was that vengeance was not mine to take.

  “Did you lose weight?” she asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “Barb is a size smaller than us.”

  “Oh.” That explained the snug fit. I never thought to check the label. Another assumption gone awry. Feeling like a pod short a few peas, I looked everywhere but at Amy. The second time my gaze traveled around the room, I noticed Trish loitering in the doorway. What the hell? With a wave, I welcomed her into the room.

  “I’m sorry to intrude,” Trish said. “I left the car to get a coffee and worried I’d missed you.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “You told me,” she said. “In the car. On the way here.”

  I remembered then. I’d babbled Amy’s story, like a loon.

  Trish introduced herself to Amy. “Josie and I met tonight.”

  “She works for Carlisle Antiques,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  Amy nodded. “Ah.” She looked at me. “She doesn’t know....”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  Trish looked from Amy to me. “Know what?”

  “It’s nothing important.” That had to be my biggest understatement of the year.

  “Okay,” Trish said, looking at me. “I’ll let you two catch up.” She turned to Amy. “I’m glad you’re back. Josie was very worried about you. I hope we meet again.” She looked at me. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

  “Thanks.” I said, smiling.

  After Trish left, I stared at the specks in the floor tiles, thinking how much I’d like to keep her as a friend. She, obviously, felt the same way, but she might feel differently once I tell her what I’d done to her boss. I didn’t look forward to the task, which spoke to the fear I presently experienced.

  If Trish understood my motivation and could overlook my lapse in better judgment, I hoped she wanted to hang with the real Josie, because I intended to revert to her forthwith.