Into the Flames

by Multi-Author

  He pulled his car to a halt outside a ramshackle bungalow. Cedar shakes had fallen from the roof and whatever color the clapboard siding had been, it was now mostly bare, splotchy wood. An equally battered Model-T stood alongside the house, letting Eli know that Al Price was home. Several makeshift fire circles had been built in front of the house, one still smoldering. He gave a mental apology to his wing-tip shoes, and then kicked the embers out, before making his way up the rough stone pathway to the front door. After several knocks with no answer, he tried the door and found it locked. With a deep breath, he pushed aside his conscience and made his way to the parlor window, at the other end of the porch.

  The window was closed, but the glass sparkled. Inside, Eli could clearly make out the form of Al Price, sprawled on the sofa, two empty brown bottles of “medicine” near his feet.

  Eli banged on the window, but Price didn’t move. Eli thought the man was breathing, but couldn’t tell from where he stood. There was also no sign of Nettie.

  It took him less than a second to rationalize his next act. The door wasn’t locked. It was his civic duty to check on the man passed out or dead in his own parlor. By extension, he could justify checking on the missing daughter as well. As he entered the hall and stepped toward the parlor, Price let out a snort and shifted. Passed out drunk, then, not dead. A better man would be pleased, but at the moment, Eli wasn’t a better man. He stepped quietly from room to room, checking for Nettie without waking her father.

  She was nowhere on the first floor. The two bedrooms were clearly both Al’s domain, one with his bed and wardrobe, the other holding a collection of hunting and fishing gear. Eli shook his head. It shouldn’t surprise him that Nettie was relegated to the attic. She probably boiled in the summer and froze in the winter. Growing more frightened and more furious by the minute, he crept up the squeaky wooden staircase to the upper half-story of the house.

  Up here, everything was as tidy as could be. The staircase opened in the middle of the narrow space. With the slanted roof above, Eli could only walk down the middle. A treadle sewing machine and a table filled one side, while the other was clearly her bedroom, with a white-painted dresser and an old iron bed.

  Nettie lay on her stomach atop the covers in the same skirt and blouse she’d worn in the shop the day before. Her dark hair lay in a messy braid, hanging over the edge of the bed to the floor. He couldn’t see her face.

  “Nettie?” Eli stepped closer, the sensation of wrongness making his stomach clench. “Nettie, are you all right?”

  All he heard in reply was a soft whimper. He closed the remaining distance in two steps and laid his fingers on her throat. Relief made his knees weak when he found her pulse beat strong and steady. He sank to sit on the edge of the bed, which caused another moan. She was alive, but not well.

  “Nettie, I know I should leave you still and go for an ambulance.” He’d had the same training as a wartime medic. “But I don’t think you’re on the telephone line and I don’t want to leave you here with him.” Price could wake at any time, putting Nettie in further danger.

  “Eli-Eli?” She lifted her head a few inches and groaned. Her head sank back to the mattress, on one cheek now, so he could see one side of her face. “Is…really you?”

  “It is.” He stroked her hair back from her cheek. Her entire neck and face were black and blue, not only the eye from yesterday. “Can you tell me the worst of your injuries?”

  “Arm,” she muttered, forcing her eyes open. “Broken. Head hurts.”

  “You’ve probably got a concussion.” At the very least. He continued stroking her hair, mostly because it was soothing him as he saw blood spots on the sheets from her split lip and other injuries he couldn’t see.

  “I have to get to the store.” She tried to push herself up with her good arm. The left was swollen halfway between wrist and elbow.

  “Easy there, Ace.” He had to get her out of here, and that meant moving her. “Let’s get you onto your back, then I’m going to splint that arm and make sure there aren’t any other serious injuries.”

  She was still woozy, one pupil larger than the other, but he could see consciousness returning to her expression. When he motioned to be quiet, she managed a faint tip of the chin in acknowledgement. He knotted up his handkerchief and she bit down on that to keep from screaming as he rolled her to her back.

  “Scissors?” He was going to have to cut away the sleeve of her blouse.

  “Sewing machine.” She panted in pain, but waved her hand in the direction of her sewing area. “Cloth on shelf. Yardstick too.”

  “Stay still.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. Clever girl, she knew what he’d need for a splint. He found the scissors in the drawer of the machine and helped himself to a length of muslin and the yardstick off the shelf, carefully breaking that in half.

  She bit down on the handkerchief again as he cut away her sleeve and did the best he could to splint her arm and bind it to her chest. At least the bone hadn’t poked out of the skin. Compound fractures could be a crippling injury.

  “Ribs?” Eli figured that was one of the bastard’s favorite targets, since bruising there wouldn’t show when she was dressed.

  “Sore.” She’d closed her eyes while he bound her arm and now she opened them. “Don’t think they’re broken. Ankle’s probably a sprain. Happened when I fell.”

  “How’d you get up the damn stairs?” Eli forgot to whisper and she shushed him.

  “Crawled. Not the first time, but the worst so far.” Tears shone in her eyes. “I have to go, don’t I?”

  He couldn’t lie to her. “You do if you want to survive.”

  She nodded. “Can you take me somewhere? Not the hospital. They’ll let him in since he’s my only family.”

  “You’re coming home with me.” Eli had already considered the possibility of a hospital giving access to Price. He wanted Nettie where he could make sure she was safe.

  Her eyelids began to droop. “Suitcase in closet. Little black one. Please.” She dropped back into pain-induced unconsciousness.

  “Right. Clothes. Hell, everything,” he muttered. Anything she left here, her father would probably destroy. He opened the closet near the sewing machine and pulled out several suitcases, including a small black satchel, which was surprisingly heavy. Inside he found a silver-backed mirror, a few books, a worn toy kitten, an old tintype and a tiny leather jewelry box. This was where she’d hidden her few treasures. Into that box he added all the things atop her dresser—brush, comb, hairpins, and a bar of scented soap, even the embroidered dresser scarf. Her meager supply of clothing—exactly one extra skirt and two blouses, plus one nightgown and a single cardigan sweater went into another, along with the book of poetry on the floor near the bed. She wasn’t ever coming back here, not if he could help it.

  He carried her to his car first, laying her carefully in the back seat and covering her with the blanket from her bed. On his second trip out with the suitcases, he paused by Price. A half-burnt cigarette lay on the table beside the sofa, adding one new burn mark to the dozen that were already there. The man liked to play with fire—in more ways than one. Eli made sure the butt was out. Before he left, he gave in to his demons and planted one vicious kick into Price’s side. He’d see the man in prison somehow, but for now, let the bastard wonder where the cracked ribs had come from.

  Chapter Three

  Nettie woke, certain she was sleeping on the floor. Her arm throbbed, her head pounded, and the rest of her body ached, stretched out on some hard surface. “Miss Price? Can you open your eyes for me, please?” The cool, crisp voice was familiar, but it wasn’t old Doc Rollins, the only physician she’d ever seen—and then not since she was a child.

  Nettie managed to unstick her eyelashes. At first, everything was blurry. A large male shape loomed over her and she shrieked, automatically bringing her arm up to cover her face. At least she tried. Her left arm screamed in pain, and cold, whil
e her right seemed limp as an overcooked noodle.

  “It’s all right, Nettie.” A warm hand landed on her right shoulder. That voice, she knew—even in her dreams, which this had to be. She blinked and looked up to see Eli’s big form take shape as her vision cleared. “Doctor Lexington has to take a look at your broken arm. It’s going to hurt. Do you want some morphine?”

  Nettie shook her head. “No drugs.” Her mother had died of an overdose and her father was a drunk. Nettie didn’t trust any of it. “Why did I sleep so long? Did you already give me something?” She heard the terror as her voice rose in pitch.

  “Just a little ether. You were waking up when we carried you up from the car. Dr. Lexington had to take some X-rays, and he didn’t want you to wake during the process.”

  “No more.” She shook her head, until it made her dizzy and her stomach roil.

  The doctor, a thin man with a bald pate and oversized mustache frowned. “But miss, as a medical professional, I can assure you that the anesthetic is necessary—”

  “She said no.” Eli stopped the doctor mid-sentence. “She managed to cope while I splinted it. She’s strong. You want my handkerchief again, Net?”

  “Yes.” She remembered now—him coming to the house and binding her arm. He said he was taking her somewhere. She looked around at the sterile, all white surgery room. A woman in a nursing uniform stood beside the door, her lined face devoid of expression.

  He nodded as he knotted up a clean hankie. “I know you didn’t want to see Doc Rollins. I can vouch for Dr. Lexington. He’s patched me up after fires more times than I can count. You can trust him.”

  “Fine.” She reached up for the knotted cloth with her good hand and stuck it between her teeth.

  Eli caught her hand in his big, warm one. “Squeeze as hard as you need to.”

  Nettie nodded to both him and the doctor and closed her eyes to wait for the pain.

  Apparently they’d undone the splint before she’d woken, so it was quicker than she’d expected. The doctor’s hands were surprisingly gentle as he gripped her arm on either side of the break. Still, she gripped Eli’s hand hard and bit down on the cloth. When the bone clicked into place with an audible snap, she spit out the hankie and screamed, squeezing his hand so tightly she was afraid she’d break his fingers.

  “Excellent job.” Dr. Lexington beamed at her with approval. “I’ve seen lumbermen who didn’t manage that with such courage. Still, you’re very lucky it was a clean and simple break.”

  “But I screamed.” Her eyes watered, too, a few tears leaking down her cheek. “Sorry.”

  The doctor smiled, his mustache twitching. “Only the once. Believe me, that’s unusual. Fortunately, it was a very clean break. You shouldn’t have any permanent damage, if you’re lucky. For now, we’ll keep it splinted and iced for a few days and then we’ll put a cast on it, once the swelling’s gone. Mr. Lawson, if you could leave the room while I conduct the rest of the examination? Nurse will stay, of course.”

  Nettie didn’t want Eli to leave, but she didn’t want him to see her undressed, either. She’d discovered by wiggling her toes that someone had already removed her shoes, and she was pretty sure she wore nothing but her slip, if that, beneath the blanket, since her arms were bare and her shoulders draped with a second thin blanket, like a shawl.

  “You don’t have any other broken bones,” the doctor said as soon as the door clicked shut behind Eli. “I didn’t X-ray your ribs, but they seem to be simply bruised. Your ankle is sprained, but it will heal apace with your arm. The best news is that there are no fractures on your cheekbones or jaw. The swelling and bruising on your face should be gone within a week.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now let’s check those ribs while you’re awake.” He pulled back the blanket enough for her to see that even her slip and elastic corset were gone. All she wore was her camisole and drawers.

  She winced as he poked and prodded, but in the end they agreed that most of her injuries would heal on their own. Only her arm and ankle required any special treatment.

  “Nettie, is there any chance that you might be pregnant?” His expression didn’t change, didn’t show the disgust she would have seen on Doc Rollins’s wide face, though the nurse wrinkled her nose.

  “No.” She felt her skin blush beneath the bruises. “I’m a…that is, I haven’t ever…”

  His smile was kind. “Well, then that’s one less thing we have to worry about, isn’t it?”

  Mortified, she only nodded.

  “And can you give me your birthdate and age?”

  “I’m twenty-three.” She rattled off her birthday, which had been more or less ignored since her mother died.

  “Then you’re a legal adult. Not even your father can access your records without your written permission.” That was good to know.

  “Are you sending me to the hospital?” The last time she’d been there after one of her father’s beatings, they’d given her right back to him—which had meant another thrashing as soon as they got home. She’d been laid up for two days in the attic, with no food, limited water, and nothing but a bucket to relieve herself in.

  “In other circumstances, I might, but Mr. Lawson explained some of the situation. I know it’s out of the ordinary, but as long as you’re willing, I’m releasing you to his care. He assures me his housekeeper is a skilled nurse and that his sister will be there to act as chaperone.”

  “I didn’t know Diana was in town.” Eli’s sister had been in the year above Nettie at school, but the two girls from opposite sides of the tracks, so to speak, had been friends of a sort. Diana had gone to finishing school and was now married to a lumber magnate and living in Grand Rapids.

  “Well, young Mr. Eli is a truthful sort, so likely she is.” The doctor pulled back the covers and smiled. “Now I know you don’t like medicine, and I suppose you have your reasons, but you listen to me, young woman. I want you to take two aspirin tablets, every four hours, for at least a week. It will help with the pain and the swelling, which is the important thing. If you don’t want any lasting damage to that arm, we have to keep the swelling down. Understand?”

  Nettie didn’t much like it, but she supposed aspirin was pretty safe, as drugs went. It was the one thing she sometimes took after her father had hit her. She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now Nurse Callahan will help you get dressed.” He left her alone with the steely eyed older woman.

  * * *

  When Eli saw Nettie again, she sat in a wicker wheel chair in a voluminous while nightgown, with one of the sleeves cut off at the elbow to accommodate her splint, which was bound up to her chest with a crisp white sling. Over that, she wore a flannel robe that Eli didn’t recognize.

  The doctor repeated his instructions to Eli, aspirin, waking once every two hours to check on the concussion, and at least two days bedrest. Eli nodded, but Nettie frowned.

  “What about the shop?” she fretted. “Missing one day was bad enough, but people want their newspapers. I can’t stay in bed for two more days.”

  “You can, and you will, if I have to tie you down.” Much as he liked the Websters, Eli was damned sure going to see to it that she followed the doctor’s orders. “We’ll sort something out.” Surely in a town this size, he could find someone trustworthy enough to run a bookshop for a couple weeks. That was one of his lesser worries. Keeping her safe from her father topped his list. He turned and shook the doctor’s hand, then wheeled Nettie out the back door of the doctor’s office, where Eli had left his car in the alley, top up. No point in encouraging any more gossip than necessary.

  “I telephoned Diana while you were with the doctor. She’s been staying with my parents, but will be moving over to my house this afternoon.” He lifted her out of the chair and into the passenger seat of his car, mindful of all her bruises. Her bravery humbled him when she didn’t utter so much as a squeak. “And my housekeeper, Mrs. VanCleve, will
have a room ready for you by the time we get there.”

  “It’s three whole blocks,” she said. “Your housekeeper must be quick. Are you sure you have the space? Your flat over your office doesn’t seem that big.”

  “It is—you’ll see. It’s designed to make good use of all three stories.” He didn’t mention that he’d personally designed the place to easily house a family if he ever got around to having one. As the eldest son of a family that liked to consider itself part of the local aristocracy, he was constantly under pressure to do so. As a fireman, however, he was reluctant. If he had a wife, would he have to give up his after-hours vocation? His former fiancée had seemed to think so. That was one of the reasons for the past tense, though the truth of it had been far greater. They hadn’t suited in any area, except in bed and even that had waned once she realized Eli had no intention of going into his father’s banking empire, or even better, in her eyes, state or national politics.

  He pulled into the carriage house, which Tim VanCleve, the housekeeper’s husband and man of all work about the property, had left open. As soon as Eli pulled in, VanCleve pulled the door shut behind him and hurried around to help Eli with Nettie.

  VanCleve opened the door, allowing Eli to scoop a dozing Nettie into his arms. She cuddled against him, nestling her head under Eli’s chin. “Shouldn’t have let him give me that shot,” she murmured. “Hate medicine.”

  “You needed it.” The ride home would have been screamingly painful without a little something, so Eli was glad the doctor had talked her into it. No wonder she’d fallen asleep in only three blocks.

  A soft snore was her only reply.

  VanCleve picked up her two small bags in one hand and hurried ahead to open the back door of the house. The rear half was part of the living area, housing the kitchen and other functional spaces along with the library, which opened into Eli’s office at the front. The library could be locked from either side, effectively separating Eli’s home from his workplace. Likewise, a second front door and foyer leading to the front stairs could be opened for guests on the rare occasions when Eli entertained.