She blinked. “Yes. But they wanted to know if anyone was hurt before they’d dispatch a unit. I tried to explain ‘bout Aunie’s ex-husband and the restrainin’ order and the alarm ringin’, but I don’t know. They said they’d send someone.”
Inside her apartment, James gently pushed Lola toward the phone again. “Call Otis.”
“Oh, God, what am I gonna tell him? Where are they!”
It was then that they heard the baby crying. It was muffled and faint, but it came from within the apartment. James was galvanized into action before the other two even had a chance to react. He tracked the sound into the nursery.
At first glance it appeared empty, but the cry was more audible and he crossed over to the closet. Lola and Bob burst into the room just as he was opening the door.
Aunie scrambled crablike into the furthest corner, twisting to present her back, the baby against her shoulder protectively sheltered between her and the wall. She reached back with one arm, brandishing the knife toward the opening with weak awkwardness. “Back off!” she warned shrilly. “Ah sweah Ah’ll kill you, Wesley, before Ah let you get your filthy hands on her again.”
Greta-Leigh’s wails crescendoed.
“Magnolia?” James said softly. He got down on his hands and knees on the closet floor and inched toward her. “It’s okay, baby,” he crooned. “It’s okay. Wesley’s not gonna hurt you again. I promise you, honey, nobody’s ever gonna hurt you again.” Bile climbed up his throat as he got his first good look at her.
“Jimmy?” Aunie peered in the direction of his voice. She tried to make out his face to verify that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, but both eyes were swollen shut.
“Yeah, baby, it’s me.” He reached out and gently grasped her wrist. She shuddered at the touch and huddled further into the corner, but she allowed him to unpeel her fingers from around the hilt of the knife. He removed it from her hand. “Lola’s here, Aunie. Will you let her have Greta-Leigh?”
“Let me hear her voice,” Aunie replied suspiciously. She still wasn’t positive she hadn’t wished all this up.
“Woo-mon?” Lola knelt in the closet’s doorway. “Are you and my baby okay?”
Aunie began to cry. “Ah’m sorry, Lola,” she sobbed. “Ah’m so sorry. Wesley held her out the window and Ah got blood all ovah her. God, please, forgive me; Ah’d give anythin’ not to have involved her.”
James scooped her up in his arms and backed out of the closet. He sat down on the floor with his back against the wall, Aunie cradled on his lap, the baby still clutched possessively to her chest.
“God Almighty,” Bob said faintly.
“Call 911 again, Bobby,” James directed him, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the infant’s roars of outrage. “Tell them we need immediate medical attention as well as the cops.”
Aunie had quit crying. Her broken nose made it difficult to breathe and she laid her head wearily against James’s chest, panting through her open mouth. “Greta’s wet,” she whispered.
Tears flowed down Lola’s face. “I’ll take her now, Aunie,” she murmured. “Okay? Hand her to me, please. I’ll clean her up and change her into dry clothes.” She reached out for her child.
“Yes, good.” Aunie pressed her parted, swollen lips against the baby’s head and then relinquished her to her mother. “Keep her safe.”
Lola blanched when she saw the blood covering her child, but the moment she peeled off her little stretch suit and used a baby wipe to clean her hands and face, she realized that none of the blood covering her was her own. Greta-Leigh’s only real problem was a soaked diaper. Gnawing her lip, she looked across the room at her battered friend.
“I’m cold, Jimmy. Really cold.”
James looked down at Aunie and was scared out of his mind. He had no idea how much blood she had lost, but it was obvious she was in shock and fading fast. “Lola! Get me a blanket. Oh, Christ, where’s that ambulance?” Even as he spoke the words, he could hear the faint wail of sirens in the distance. He wrapped the two of them in the quilt Lola handed him. “Hang on, baby. Just hang on a little longer.” He rubbed his cheek against the crown of her head. “God, I’m sorry, Magnolia. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. I failed you when you needed me most.”
“No,” she whispered. “Didn’t.” She panted weakly, then gathered her strength. “Saved … life. Those … lessons … I … hated.” Her fingers curled weakly in his shirt. “Remembered, Jimmy. Did … n’t… panic.”
Bob ushered in the paramedics. They muscled James aside and began to work over Aunie. As soon as they had her stabilized, they put her on a collapsible gurney to transport her to the hospital.
It was as the medics were extending the legs of the stretcher that James noticed the dark, wet bloom of blood staining the crotch of her jeans. He watched them hang the IV on the attached stand and cover her with a blanket, and he felt as if a giant fist had slugged him in the stomach.
If she had been pregnant before, she was no longer.
“Dead?” Aunie turned her head in the direction of the detective’s voice. “I killed him?” Her head was fuzzy from the narcotics they had given her for the pain, and she thought it was that which was causing her confusion. “I-I-I … no. He was yellin’ obscenities and threats when I left. I slashed at his arm to stop him from choking me, but he was still screamin’ at me when I grabbed Greta-Leigh and ran out the door.” She groped along the side of the hospital bed with her right hand. “Jimmy?”
James leaned forward in his chair and clasped her hand in both of his. “Cunningham’s dead, Magnolia. He was dead when Bobby and I got there.”
“You nicked a main artery, miss,” the detective said. “He must have bled out after you left.” He looked away from her. Christ. He really didn’t have the heart for this. The guy’s death was too merciful.
“Am I goin’ to jail?”
The detective turned back his head to observe her. The black woman whose child had been involved had showed him a snapshot of Miss Franklin before he’d left her apartment. It was hard to tell, looking at her now, but she had been beautiful. “No,” he replied. “There will be no charges filed. In addition to your statement, we have knowledge of the restraining order and a report from the ER doctor here on staff. It is my belief that you acted in self-defense and in defense of the child’s life. I just need you to verify a copy of your statement once we have it typed up. When the swelling goes down on your eyes, we’ll need you to come down to the station, read it over, and sign it.” He stood, as did the quiet young man in the corner who had recorded Aunie’s statement. The detective reached out a hand to touch her arm. She gasped and jerked it away skittishly. “Get some rest,” he said.
The policemen left, the door swishing closed behind them.
Aunie started to cry. She was relieved Wesley was dead—oh, God, she was glad—yet she felt horrible that he’d died at her hand. She had never willfully even hurt anyone before, let alone been responsible for a death. And yet …
Her emotions were so jumbled she couldn’t have said with any coherency how she felt.
“Shh,” James soothed her, leaning over and brushing her hair away from her face. “Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry. It’s all over now.”
Her face turned blindly in his direction. “Jimmy? Could you hold me?”
He climbed onto the high bed with her and gingerly gathered her in his arms. She sighed. It was silent for several moments, then she whispered, “Did they tell you that I’m not pregnant?”
“I already knew. I saw the blood on your pants when the paramedics were taking you out.” He lifted up his head, chin tucked in to look down at her. “Were you?”
“I don’t know. They said it was much too soon to tell. But I can’t shake the feelin’ I was, Jimmy.”
“Aunie?” He hesitated a second, then said, “How did you feel about it? We both got defensive and angry yesterday, and neither of us really said what we thought. I need to know.”
“Oh, James, I felt so mixed up. The thought of being pregnant right then scared me silly. I didn’t think you’d want a baby, and I still have two years of school left.” Her fingers curled in his shirt. “Yet, part of me really wanted to be. I’ve got more than enough money to care for a child and I think I’d be a pretty good mother. And besides”—she yawned hugely— “it was yours.”
“It scared me, too,” James said. “But I would have wanted it, Magnolia. That’s kind of funny, huh? After all my howling about too many responsibilities? But I like the idea of us being a family and I’m really willing to work hard at it…” His voice trailed away as he realized she had abruptly fallen asleep. He smiled ruefully.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he whispered and kissed the crown of her head. Easing her out of his arms, he climbed off the bed and sat down in the chair next to it. His head tilted against the back of the chair. Gazing up at the ceiling he murmured, “We’ve got all the time in the world to talk now.”
EPILOGUE
Aunie stood in the doorway to her apartment, fighting to overcome her apprehension. A small voice in her brain told her to quit being ridiculous and go on in, that there was nothing to be afraid of, but it was difficult to hear over the thunderous knocking of her heart. It had been more than a month now since that day with Wesley, and she had yet to set foot in her former home.
When she’d been released from the hospital, James had already moved most of her personal items to his apartment. He’d carried her straight to his bedroom to recuperate, and she’d been too weak then to worry about how she would feel when the time came to reenter her home. It had taken awhile for her strength to rejuvenate; but once she’d begun to mend, it had returned quickly. That was when she’d discovered that physical health was apparently restored more rapidly than mental well-being—at least in her case.
She’d never dreamed there would be a problem the day she had strode down the hall to retrieve her good nail file from the bathroom. James had overlooked it when he’d packed her belongings.
She had approached her apartment with confidence, only to stop dead in the doorway. Nothing had prepared her for the blind terror that commenced her heart to pounding, her hands to trembling. Nothing had prepared her for Wesley’s horrible, echoing voice that rebounded threateningly within her mind or for the memories that played before her eyes in a red-tinted fog. She had backed away and softly closed the door. Ashamed but unable to do it herself, she’d enlisted Lola’s help to retrieve her nail file. In the several attempts she had made to face her demons since that episode, nothing had changed. She hadn’t been able to force herself past the front door.
But tomorrow she was getting married. She didn’t want her wedding present to James to be a legacy of neurotic fear. He had given her so much when he’d equipped her with the skills to come through her experience alive, when he’d taught her how to refuse the role of perfect victim. She needed to give him something in return … she needed to restore something to herself. Her ordeal at Wesley’s hands was yesterday’s news, dammit. It was over; she had survived. She was determined to start her life as Aunie Franklin Ryder with a fresh slate.
Nails digging into her palms, she stepped into the apartment.
She half expected to see dried blood and chaos, to smell the stale ghosts of her terror, but it looked much as it had before that day. Her heartbeat began to quiet. Wandering from room to room, she slowly discovered that the memories most dominant had nothing to do with Wesley at all.
She was sitting on the bed contemplating the cream of those memories when she heard the front door open. For just a moment she tensed. It was a source of pride that she had already regained her equilibrium before she heard James’s voice call out.
“Magnolia? You in here, baby?”
“In the bedroom.”
He appeared in the doorway and Aunie launched herself off the bed and into his arms. Her legs gripping his waist, her arms about his neck, she leaned back and grinned up at him. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself, sugarbritches.” His own grin creased his face in a dozen places. “Lola said to tell you that the beef Wellington will be done at six-thirty and not to be late.” He smiled ruefully. “Now that her morning-slash-afternoon sickness is a thing of the past, she’s back to being her old bossy self.”
“You know she’s going to make us go through a weddin’ rehearsal after dinner, don’t you?”
“Yeah, Otis warned me. I knew we shoulda eloped to Vegas.”
Aunie’s nose wrinkled. “Too tacky.”
“But simple. What’s to rehearse, anyway? It’s just gonna be you’n me and a few of our friends in Otis’s apartment. I’ll say I do, if you will.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and buckled his knees from side to side just for the fun of having her grab at his shoulders and tighten her legs around his hips. Aunie laughed and jerked his ponytail.
“It’s just basic stuff, Jimmy. Be good. She’s gone to so much trouble to make this special for us.”
“Yeah, I know.” He flopped onto his back and gazed up at her perched astride his lap. “I was kind of surprised to find you here, Magnolia.”
She rolled to lie by his side, her cheek on his chest. She was quiet for several moments before she finally said, “I couldn’t bear the thought of havin’ unresolved fears when you put that beautiful ring on my finger.”
“You’re not afraid now?”
“No. The hardest part was steppin’ over the threshold. Once I came in and walked around a little bit, I found that I’d been grantin’ Wesley more power than he deserved by running scared this past month. There’re no ghosts here anymore.”
His fingers tangled in her hair and pressed her head more fully against his chest. “Ah, God, that’s good to hear.” He rubbed his free hand up and down her arm. “We’re getting married tomorrow, Magnolia. Jeez, can you believe that?” He grinned up at the ceiling. “Just a few short hours until I can introduce you as the little woman.”
“You do and I’ll take a frying pan to your head.” She propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him. “Jimmy, does this frighten you at all?”
“Little bit.” He tilted his head to look at her. “I’m not always easy to get along with, Aunie. Hell, you know that better than anyone. And I get these spells when I just want to be alone. But I’m gonna work at this, baby. I’m gonna work at it real hard.”
“So am I. I want you to know that I don’t require round-the-clock entertainment. My ego won’t be bruised if you want some privacy. Just as long as you spell it out for me ahead of time and don’t go slammin’ off or scream at me for interruptin’ you.”
“I don’t always know how to conduct a relationship, Magnolia.”
“I don’t think anyone does, all the time.” She smiled up at him. “Just pretend you’re a recovering alcoholic. Take it one day at a time.”
James laughed. “Ah, God, I love you, girl. You’re the best thing that’s ever touched my life.” He reached down to unbutton her blouse. Rolling her to her back, he leaned down and pressed soft kisses to the two thin scars on her chest. He raised his head to stare into her eyes. “You ask me, I think we’re gonna have us one helluva long and happy marriage.”
“So do I, Jimmy T.” She wrestled his T-shirt up over his head and tossed it aside. “So do I.”
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 1993 by Susan Andersen
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ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-2860-4
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