The Traveling Woman

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  He inclined his head to one side.

  “How long have you known my son?”

  My eyes widened. It was the first time he’d used the word ‘son.’

  “Since I was ten,” I answered automatically. “The carnival came to Fairmont.”

  “Ah, the carnival,” said the Senator.

  And I thought I could see a hint of regret in his eyes.

  He wanted to know all about my family, all about last summer, and he was very interested in Seymour Michaels, especially when I told him that we’d severed all connections with the Hollywood bigwig.

  Not long after, we landed at the airport and another limousine whisked us to the hospital. We were met by a tall, thin man wearing an expensive tuxedo and bowtie.

  “Andrew, I’m at your beck and call, as you see!”

  “Paul, I can’t thank you enough for this.”

  “Not at all. So, may I see the patient?”

  They started to walk away, but I called after them.

  “Hey! Just . . . can you wait a minute? I need to talk to him first.”

  The Senator looked annoyed, but gave me a quick nod.

  “Five minutes.”

  Oh shit! How on earth was I going to explain all of this in five minutes?

  The other visitors had gone for the day, but I’d already texted Zach about what was happening, and he and Tucker were on their way back to the hospital.

  For now, Kes was alone.

  I looked through the door and saw that he was awake. Someone had left the TV on, but the remote was beyond his reach, and the program showing was Real Housewives of Atlanta. God, Kes would hate that.

  I walked in and turned off the TV.

  Kes’s turned toward me, his expression surprised.

  “Hey, baby! What are you doing here?”

  And then he noticed my floor-length dress and frowned.

  “Um, so, it’s like this,” I said breathlessly. “I’m not sick . . .”

  “I see that,” he said sharply.

  “We had a problem with your insurance,” my words rushed out. “Sorcha canceled the loss of income part. She did it deliberately, but that’s another story. The point is, although your medical bills are covered . . . there won’t be anything to live on while you . . . while you get better.”

  He stared for a moment, then closed his eyes.

  “Fuckin’ great,” he breathed.

  “So, um, I had to find the money . . .”

  His gray eyes darkened as his gaze fixed on me. “What did you do, Aimee?”

  “Please don’t be mad! I did it for you!”

  “What the fuck did you do?”

  “She came to see me, son.”

  The Senator was standing in the doorway with Dr. Wrobel.

  “Get out,” Kes said quietly.

  “I’m here to help you,” the Senator said, taking another step into the room.

  “I was talking to her!” Kes shouted.

  I gasped.

  “Get out! Get the fuck out!” he roared, then he threw the first thing he could find, those hideous prism glasses.

  They hit my cheek, making me cry out, then fell to the floor and broke.

  “Get out, Aimee!” he shouted again. “You fucking sold me out!”

  “I didn’t! I love you!” I cried, tears pouring down my face.

  “Miss, I think you’d better leave for now,” Dr. Wrobel said kindly.

  I ran out of the room sobbing.

  I didn’t know where to turn, so I fled to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall, letting out all the hurt and frustration and worry, in one ugly, snot-filled crying jag.

  I don’t know how long I’d been in there when I heard a gentle knock on the door and Zach’s voice.

  “Aimee, it’s me.”

  I unlocked the door and fell into his arms.

  “Oh God, Zach, he hates me! He acted like I’d betrayed him—he said I’d sold him out!”

  “He didn’t mean it,” Zach said, rocking me in his arms.

  “He did! You should have seen his face!”

  “Shh, he’ll see it differently when he understands.”

  “I don’t think so,” I cried brokenly. “But what else could I do?”

  He didn’t answer. I don’t think he could.

  Zef and Tucker came to find us, and Zef handed me my small suitcase. Gratefully, I went to change into jeans and a t-shirt, then we all went to the waiting room and drank endless cups of foul coffee from a machine.

  I felt cold inside. Kes had been so angry, looked so hurt, and oh God! Had I sold him out? Is that what I’d done? I was trying to do the right thing, but the more I thought about it, the more confused I became. The cold spread, seeping through my veins, deepening in my heart, each icy crystal fracturing something inside me. It was fear. It was dread. Love. Loss. Such easy words to throw around.

  Eventually, one of the Senator’s bodyguards found us and told us we were wanted back in Kes’s room. Although in my case ‘wanted’ was probably too strong a word.

  We all squeezed into the small room, but Kes saw me immediately.

  “What’s she doing here?”

  “Don’t be a jerk, man,” Zef said. “It took a lot of balls to do what she did.”

  “Yeah,” said Tucker. “And we all helped her, so if you tell her to leave, we’re all out of here. Your choice, bro.”

  Kes pressed his lips together, but didn’t reply. I breathed a sigh of relief, although I was sure the reprieve was temporary. My hands were shaking again.

  “Well now,” said Dr. Wrobel. “I’ve reviewed the films taken of your injury, Mr. Hawkins, and I’ve scheduled an MRI scan to see what’s changed in the last three days.”

  “Nothing’s fucking changed,” Kes snapped. “I broke my fucking back.”

  “A lot can change in three days,” the doctor said evenly. “I want the most up to date information before I reach a conclusion.”

  I frowned. “Are you saying that you don’t agree with the planned surgery?”

  Kes shot me a look of pure hatred as I spoke, and any further words shriveled on my lips.

  “I’m saying that I have an incomplete picture and I won’t make any determination without further information.”

  We were interrupted when two orderlies came to take Kes for an MRI. He wouldn’t look at me as he was wheeled out.

  “That was quick,” Tucker whispered.

  We all looked at the Senator, but he sat staring at the empty space where Kes’s bed had been. Then he stood up and walked out. He paused at the door and turned to look at me.

  “Thank you for coming to me, Miss Andersen.”

  Then he left.

  “Wow,” said Tucker, shaking his head. “That was intense.” Then he put his arm around me. “You okay?”

  I shook my head numbly.

  “Aw, sweet cheeks, he’ll come around. He will. Kes is fucking stubborn, but you’re his gal.”

  A shaky breath left my body, but I didn’t feel much hope.

  “Thank you, Tucker,” I said softly.

  By now, it was late in the night and only a few hours from dawn. My body was weary, but the tiredness in my soul was worse.

  I lay down on a small padded bench and closed my eyes. But it felt like only a minute later when Kes’s bed was wheeled back into his room.

  Zef lurched awake and Tucker rubbed his eyes. Only Zach seemed at all alert. My heart was hammering so hard, I felt like I’d sprinted a mile.

  Kes’s eyes were ringed with dark circles, and he looked drawn, older somehow. The stubble on his cheeks had grown thickly over the last few days, and I didn’t know if he’d refused to shave, or if no one had offered.

  He looked directly at me, his eyes black and cold.

  “Can you guys give us a few minutes?” he said. “I’ve got some things to say to Aimee.”

  I shivered at his words, the tone in his voice chilling.

  Zach gave me an anxious look before he left the room with the ot
hers.

  I went to stand next to Kes’s bed so he could see me without wrenching his neck.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “Is this how it’s going to be?” he ground out, his whole body rigid with frustration and tension. “You do what the fuck you want and I just have to suck it up?”

  “Kes, no . . .”

  “You nailed my hide to the fucking wall because I didn’t want to talk about my family. That was such a big deal for you: being honest, sharing every fucking detail of my life. ‘If we don’t have trust, where can we possibly go from here?’ You remember saying that to me? You fucking knew what my father did, and the first chance you get, you run to him.”

  “It wasn’t like that!”

  “How the fuck do you think it was for me to see that bastard walk in when I’m like this. I can’t do anything! I’m fucking useless. I have no power! None! I couldn’t even walk away from him.”

  “Kes, it was our only choice!”

  “No it fucking wasn’t! It was your choice, Aimee! Yours! Jesus, you’re all let’s talk about this, but when it comes to what you want to do . . .”

  He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t walk away, so he threw his arm over his eyes to hide himself from me.

  I felt completely wretched.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I whispered again.

  “Aimee,” he said, his voice strangled, “I don’t want to even look at you.”

  “Oh God, Kes!”

  “If you ever felt anything for me, you’ll go—right now.”

  The pain was so intense, I thought I was going to collapse.

  “I’m sorry,” I cried. “I’m so sorry.”

  He didn’t answer, so I stumbled out of the room, holding my hand over my shattered heart.

  Zach saw me and tried to say something, but I ran past him. I didn’t stop until I was outside, gulping in great lungfuls of air.

  Then my phone rang and I scrambled to pull it out of my bag, hoping it would be Kes. But it wasn’t: Con’s name flashed up on the screen. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I knew that I had to.

  “Aimee! Thank God! I’ve been going nuts—what the hell’s going on? I spoke to Zach and he told me about some crazy scheme you had to talk to our father. Please tell me you’ve changed your mind! Please tell me you wouldn’t do something so stupid!”

  “Oh, God, Con! It’s such a mess! I didn’t know what to do! We needed the money and . . .”

  “Christ, Aimee! What did you do?”

  “I . . . I spoke to the Senator.”

  I heard him cursing on the other end of the phone and I cringed. In the background I could hear Hilde trying to calm him down. Eventually, he was composed enough to speak.

  “What happened?”

  “He said he’d help and . . . he came to the hospital.”

  There was a long, long pause. I would have thought the call had been dropped, but I could hear him breathing heavily.

  “And?”

  “Kes isn’t talking to me,” I whispered.

  His cynical laugh echoed down the phone.

  “Are you surprised?”

  “I was only trying to help.”

  “I need to talk to my brother,” he said, then ended the call.

  If it was possible to feel any worse, I’d be there, but my poor heart had already been gutted like a fish.

  Two hours later, we all gathered in Kes’s room to hear the results of the MRI. Well, everyone else gathered—I lurked outside the door, listening, but unseen.

  Dr. Wrobel seemed to enjoy being the center of attention.

  “Well, Kestrel, the MRI has given me a far better picture of your injury and I can see that small changes have occurred already. The large splinter particle that is protruding into the spinal cord canal has regressed by perhaps a millimeter. This is why you’re beginning to get some sensation back in your legs and feet.”

  This was news to me. When had Kes started to feel something? Had it happened before the shit storm? Why hadn’t he said anything?

  “As I’m sure you’re aware, bone is largely made up of collagen, a protein, and calcium, so the smaller bone splinters will eventually dissolve inside your body, and larger pieces will ultimately be incorporated into the new bone that bridges the gap around the L4 vertebra—there is no present need for surgery.”

  I held my breath, waiting for someone, anyone to speak, but they were all looking at for Kes.

  I couldn’t see his face from where I was standing, but I could hear his voice.

  “So, you’re saying I don’t need the op?”

  “In my opinion, no.”

  “Will . . . will I be able to walk?”

  “Kestrel, you’ve sustained a major trauma to your spine. You are unlikely to ever achieve the level of mobility that you enjoyed before. I suspect that you’ll have chronic, that is, long-term pain. You’ll also lose about half an inch in height because of compression of the disc, the spongy material between vertebrae—another source of pain. The tendons and ligaments around the L4 have been damaged but will repair themselves. But once damage to this extent has taken place, you cannot expect to be as you were.”

  “Fuck’s sake, in English, doc!” Kes said tiredly.

  “My hope is that with rest—and I do mean complete rest—and appropriate physical therapy after, you will be able to stand, walk with purpose, maybe even more. I see no reason why you couldn’t live a normal life.”

  Each word hovered in the air, being weighed and measured by each of us. But what was a normal life to a man whose life had been extraordinary? I didn’t know what ‘normal’ would be for Kes—and I was pretty certain he didn’t either.

  “How long?” Kes asked quietly.

  “Three months,” said Dr. Wrobel. If you rest for three months, ensuring that you don’t move your pelvis, I think you’ll do well. I’ll monitor your recovery, of course.”

  Dr. Wrobel seemed as if he was waiting for a round of applause, but there was a stunned silence.

  “I have already conveyed this information to your father, and he has arranged for your ongoing care in this facility.”

  Then I heard Zach’s voice. “Thank you, doctor.”

  “Of course.” Then he spoke to Kes. “If your father hadn’t contacted me, you would certainly have undergone surgery, and your mobility would have been more deeply compromised. It’s a good outcome for you, Kestrel. Well, I’ll be in touch.”

  Then Dr. Wrobel walked past me, nodded quickly, and disappeared along the corridor.

  “Aimee’s outside, man,” said Tucker. “I think you should talk to her.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t be such a dick. You’d be having fucking metal poles stuck in your back, probably from the ass up, if she hadn’t of spoken to your old man. And did you even think about how you’d pay for your mom’s care?” Then Tucker called out, “Aimee! Get your butt in here!”

  Reluctantly, I slid into the room, pressing my back to the wall as if taking up less space would make my presence less obnoxious to Kes.

  “Suck it up,” Zach said to him, “or I’ll have to knock some sense into you. Again. You two had better sort it out.”

  Zach gave Kes a hard stare and led the guys out, leaving us alone together.

  There was a punishing silence as I wrung my hands, clueless as to what more I could say to explain everything I’d done.

  “I can’t see you over there,” Kes muttered.

  “Do you want to see me?” I asked hesitantly.

  He didn’t reply, but I stepped closer anyway, so I was in his eye line. He looked exhausted, an unhealthy pallor emphasizing the dark, bruise-like circles under his eyes.

  “What did you make of all that medical shit?”

  His voice was low and rough, but he didn’t sound angry anymore.

  “Good, I guess. It sounds a whole lot better than the surgery they wanted to do. At least I think so. What do you think?”

  He closed his eyes.


  “I don’t know, my head is so fucked. Three fucking months on my back? I’ll go crazy. Crazier.”

  “But at the end of it . . . the doctor sounded hopeful,” I said tentatively.

  He was so still and silent that I wondered if he’d fallen asleep, but then he turned his head and looked at me.

  “Guess I should thank you.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes and I had to choke them back.

  “I’d do anything for you, Kes. I’m so sorry that I lied to you, that I hurt you. You’re right: I’ve been acting like there’s one set of rules for you and another for me. Please, please let me make it up to you,” I begged.

  “You don’t have to make anything up to me,” he said quietly.

  My heart stuttered and coughed, unsure what he meant.

  “Can . . . can you forgive me?” I whispered.

  A sound like a growl rolled up from his throat and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

  I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I crawled onto the bed and carefully wrapped my arms around him, laying my cheek against his firm chest, sobbing in time to the steady beat of his heart.

  “I love you,” I choked out. “I love you, Kes. I always have. “

  And then I felt his arms gently circling my back, rubbing soothingly, stroking my hair. I felt as if I’d cried a lake of tears, climbed a mountain of worries, plummeted into black chasms and crawled out battered and bruised, but not broken, not defeated. Not anymore.

  We lay in peaceful silence, our arms around each other, as dawn slowly slipped across the sky.

  “When I was a little girl,” I said, my voice lost in the past, “I’d stare out of my window at Mr. Peterson’s field, watching, waiting for you. Waiting for my shooting star to dazzle me. That’s how I thought of you.”

  Kes chuckled quietly.

  “I mean it. You shone so bright, you flew so high, and I couldn’t believe you’d picked me—first of all to be your friend and then later . . .”

  He sighed, but it was a peaceful sound, not a despairing one. I’d heard enough to tell the difference.

  “You’ve always been my girl, Aimee. The only one who ever mattered. You know that, right?”

  “Sometimes I know it,” I said honestly.

  He was silent for a moment.

  “Zach says you went to see Sorcha.”

  “Oh,” I said, a little unsure of what his reaction would be.