"Have you changed your mind then?"
"No! No, I just... I'm a little afraid is all. And I forgot...I forgot to say I love you to my grandpa."
"Janey, we can wait. We can do this later."
"No, please! I don't want to wait. I don't want to be there when he dies. I can't bear it. He is the only one who... who ever loved me, and he doesn't even know who I am now. I can't watch anymore. I can't!"
"I love you, Janey." His voice was steady and confident, past the heart-stopping uncertainty she had thrown him with her doubts.
Janey halted her tears with a determined intake of breath and bent to gather her things, glancing up twice to catch his smile.
"That's my girl! Now, don't look back. Be patient and I'll be along shortly."
He heard the car door slam, and he crushed his cigarette into the dirt. Janey did not like him to smoke. She played his little mother when they were together, fussing and fretting over him. So much pent up love within her that he looked forward to drowning in it.
Nicholas noticed with annoyance at his carelessness that he had parked under a street lamp. His car was awash in its pool of light, Janey's halo of dark curls catching the glint of it as she kept her eyes obediently forward, not looking back. Luckily, he had remembered to obscure his license plate with a rag trapped under his trunk lid, and the car was nondescript enough that observers would have difficulty recalling its details. And anyway, Janey had sent the letter explaining why she was running away. She had ample reason. And she was of an age that, with such evidence as the letter, the police would be content to ignore her disappearance, or give it only cursory attention, if her neglectful mother even took enough notice to report it. Janey would be safe with him.
Nicholas roused himself, shrugging off the dredges of his dream. Why Janey? Why now when he worried what had become of her and would probably never know? Would the years bring similar troubling dreams of Trissa?
Not if he didn't go back.
Not if he fell asleep and let the darkness take over. Or if, when more dreams came, they were of the man who called himself Cole Baker.
*****
Dr. Edmonds warmed his stethoscope in the palm of his hand then loosened Trissa's gown to listen to her heart. "Breathe in deeply and hold it. That's good, let it out slowly. Okay, now in and out normally."
Trissa chewed her lower lip all during Edmonds examination, her eyes flitting to the door each time footsteps sounded in the hall.
"Where is your friend this afternoon?" he asked.
"Friend? You mean Nicholas? He went for lunch, they said. He was gone when I woke up."
Edmonds made a few notes on his chart. "I saw him downstairs when I came in," he said. "Is there anything else you want to tell me about your accident while he's not here, Trissa?"
"While he's not..." Was there a hint of suspicion in his tone? "Oh, no, you don't think he had anything to do with my fall, do you? No, no, that's all wrong! He was the one who saved me. It's just that... uh... I was running and I wasn't looking and I ran onto the tr -- I stumbled and--" Her voice constricted. She didn't dare tell the whole truth, yet her clumsy explanations seemed all wrong as the words sputtered out.
"And I tried to catch her before she fell, but we both tumbled over the embankment."
"Nicholas!"
Nicholas leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Hi, Sweetheart. You look much better. Did you have a good nap?"
"Yes. And I ate all my lunch."
"Then it must have been better than mine." The fingers of her right hand beckoned toward him and he clasped them. Their coldness melted in his warm palm.
Edmonds snapped his pen shut and folded his arms across his chest. "Two things, Mr. and Mrs. Brewer," he said, raising his brow toward Nicholas on Trissa's title. "The x-rays look good, so I don't think we have anything to worry about there. But I have asked a colleague, Georgia Pulasky, to come in and have a few words with Mrs. Brewer before I sign the release."
"Another of your standard procedures, Doctor?" Nicholas asked.
"No, it is not standard. And, Trissa, I hope you will be more forthcoming with her than you have been with me. We only want to help you, but to do that you will have to help us a little, too. Will you at least try?" He ignored Nicholas and spoke only to Trissa. She sensed antagonism between the two men. It confused her.
"I don't know what you want," she said.
"Just answer her questions honestly."
"Yes, Doctor."
"Thank you." There was a smug look of triumph on Edmonds' face. "I'll check in on you again, later. Good day, Mr. Brewer.
*****
Nicholas gave Trissa's hand a squeeze then released it to pursue Edmonds out of the room. "Doctor Edmonds, I need a word with you."
"I have rounds to make, Brewer. You've wasted enough of my time." Whatever pleasantness he had contrived to gain Trissa's trust was erased from his voice now that she could no longer hear it. He did not slow his pace down the hall, and once again Nicholas was forced into a limping gait to keep up with his long strides.
Ignoring the disadvantage, Nicholas injected a similar sharp aggression into his tone. "Then why not just release her and cease your damned meddling?"
"Release her to you? You probably have no more right to her than I do."
"Than you do? Is that it, Edmonds? Is that the reason for all your interest?"
"Don't be an ass, Brewer. My interest is only that of doctor for patient."
"And this colleague of yours? You didn't call her doctor. Just what is her interest?"
"She is a psychiatric social worker."
"Psychiatric--" Nicholas took a breath to control the snap of panic the word induced in him. Even so, when he spoke again, it tinged his voice. He wondered if Edmonds would detect it. "No, I refuse. I won't give my permission for that. You're not sending some shrink in there to play around with Trissa's mind."
Edmonds waved a hand to dismiss him as if Brewer's objections were no more than a petty annoyance. "Your permission is not needed. And probably wouldn't be binding if it were. I have the patient's permission. You heard her agree to talk to her yourself."
They had reached the end of the hall and Edmonds finally paused and turned to face him with undisguised contempt. "As for playing around with her mind, you've done your share of that, haven't you? Was that endearing scene in there just for my benefit, or are you always so loving with your wife? Somehow, I doubt it. Whatever happened last night, it has damaged that girl more than just physically. She's so overwrought she can't frame a straightforward response to a simple question. But then, you don't want her to be able to answer questions, do you?"
In a way, Nicholas felt more comfortable now that Edmonds had shed all pretense of civility. He knew Edmonds expected him to reply in kind, and it pleased him to muster enough composure to answer the doctor's outburst with cool, even-toned disdain. "You are an arrogant bastard, Edmonds. But then most doctors are. You have made a lot of assumptions about me and about the accident. For Trissa's sake, I regret I won't have the pleasure of showing you just how wrong you are. But I will promise you one thing. However long you dawdle with this release, Trissa came into this hospital with me and she will leave with me."
"That remains to be seen."
The doctor turned and shouldered his way through the door to the stairwell. Nicholas judged himself the victor in this round. But then, Nicholas had already made up his mind he was going to win. He had battled his way to that decision in the car when he had awakened with the image of Janey as fresh in his mind as the last day he'd seen her.
If he had dreamed of her, he did not remember the details of his dream. There was only Janey, smiling bravely and saying goodbye, neither of them anticipating it would be their last. It had startled him that the memory was so clear after so long. He'd driven away watching her in the rear view mirror as she fidgeted with her clothes, suddenly as unsure of herself as she had been the day they met.
It was her first
day on her first job, and as carefully as they had prepared for it, Nicholas knew she was scared. He kissed her goodbye and promised her a celebration dinner as she scooted out of the car. He willed her good luck as he turned the corner and she was lost from sight. Forever. As easily as a car shifts into gear, his mind slipped from him and he lost the next six months. When he came to himself again, he was in another city, in another season.
He had called the number he remembered to be his and Janey's, but a stranger answered. He drove by her old house and saw strangers living there and to the library where they'd met without real expectation of finding her there. He hadn't the courage to seek her any further, to explain his abandonment of her, to beg her understanding. He had only the hope that she forgave him, and maybe, in time, convinced herself it was better that he left. But probably, she hated him. He deserved it. He hated himself for what he had done to her, however little control he'd had of the situation.
And out there in the car in the hospital parking lot, he'd almost let himself do the same thing to Trissa. But this time, he took control. He wouldn't allow it to happen again. He would not let go. He promised Trissa, and this time he would not let go. Neither Edmonds nor anyone else would change that.
When he returned to the room, Trissa stood at her bedside, her small body engulfed in her hospital robe and gown, her face veiled in her shining hair as she bent over the little suitcase he had brought her.
"Should you be out of bed?"
She looked up and smiled, the shyness of it melting his heart. "I feel much better now. I think I'll feel better yet if I get out of these things." She fingered the limp and wrinkled cotton that dipped and drooped about her.
"But you're in style.. That color is the latest thing.," he chuckled.
She tilted her head and squinted one eye shut to consider it. "No, it's just not me, I guess." She shook out a dusty rose dress and laid it across the bed and found a darker rose chenille cardigan at the bottom of the suitcase.
"I'll leave so you can change."
"No, wait, please. You brought these for me and I haven't thanked you."
"You don't have to."
"Yes, I do. I don't know how to repay your kindness and your -- bravery." She frowned. "There is so much I can't explain to you but you deserve an explanation. Especially since I have another favor to ask, and it's so hard to -- to--"
"Just ask." There was only the width of the bed that separated them, and he wished he could reach out and take her hands again but she held them clenched at her waist, rubbing her thumbs together.
"Can you loan me some money?" she blurted.
"Money?"
"I'll pay you back. I'll get a job and pay you back as soon as I can."
"But, Trissa..."
"It's just that I can't go home. I think you know that. And without money, I don't know where... it's just -- there's no one else I can think to ask."
Nicholas pulled out his wallet and scowled at its flatness. He hoped he had enough to make his point. "How much do you want?"
Her eyes widened as he tossed bills one by one on the bed. "I -- I don't know. I thought a hotel and a little for food."
"And transportation. You'll need to get to this hotel and eventually to this job you plan to find."
"Oh. Yes, I guess so."
"You probably will need enough to tide you over until the bruises fade. Job hunting is hard enough even when you don't look like a defeated prizefighter."
She chewed on her lower lip. He emptied his wallet and searched his pockets. Coins and wadded bills joined the pile already on the bed.
"And then there's the hospital bill."
"The hospital bill?" She slumped to the bed. "The hospital bill. What am I going to do?"
"You could come home with me," he suggested as he rounded the bed to sit next to her.
She shook her head and buried her face in her hands.
"Trissa, listen. I lied to these people here, and I'm sorry. I couldn't think of what else to do. You needed help and I was afraid they wouldn't help you without consent. I didn't even know your name, so I..."
She jerked her face up sharply. "But you did! You did know my name! I heard you calling me. On the tracks. You called my name! Who are--"
"Mrs. Brewer?" a woman's voice inquired from across the room.
Trissa had no reason to respond to that name that everyone insisted on calling her but she turned toward the doorway. Nicholas feared she was now recalling just why he frightened her. He reached for her wrist and held it firmly for a moment, his eyes burning into hers as he whispered, "I had to lie, Trissa. I had to. Trust me." He released her and dropped his hands to his sides. Trissa trembled.
"Mrs. Brewer, I'm Georgia Pulasky. Dr. Edmonds asked me to stop by. Mr. Brewer." The woman was a robust blond with pale freckles crowding her face and the backs of her hands. She nodded and smiled a greeting at Nicholas then fixed her eyes steadily Trissa's face.
Trissa raked the money off the bed and, clutching it in one fist, she pushed it at Nicholas. "I think Dr. Edmonds wants me to talk to Mrs. Pulasky alone, Nicholas," she said steadily, her voice a register higher than before.
His shoulders slumped as he nodded, shoved the money in his jacket pocket and turned toward the door. "I'll wait -- outside. Uh, will you want to talk to me also, Mrs. Pulasky?"
"I don't expect so, Mr. Brewer," the woman answered and dismissed him.
Chapter Seven
Georgia Pulasky invited Trissa to make herself comfortable. "If you would feel better sitting in the chair than the bed, it's all right with me. I just have a few questions. Nothing to be frightened about."
"I'm not frightened," Trissa said, "...of you," she added hastily. She remained standing, and folded her arms across her chest.
"Of someone else then? Anything you share with me will be held in confidence." With a glance over her shoulder at the comatose roommate, Mrs. Pulasky tugged at the curtain.
Trissa smiled at her caution. "You don't have to worry about Patty, Mrs. Pulasky. She and I have sort of an understanding. I tell her all my troubles, and she keeps them to herself."
The social worker frowned and pulled a chair into a position that would put Patty out of her line of vision. "It doesn't make you uncomfortable to share a room with someone as bad off as that?"
"I suppose it depends on your definition of bad off,'" Trissa shrugged. "Blissful might be a synonym some would use."
Georgia sat and smoothed her skirt, composing a flicker of alarm out of her face before she looked up. "You would use that synonym?"
"I might. But I'm afraid she dreams sometimes. That would ruin her peace. I guess nothing's perfect in this world." Trissa blinked a few times and tilted her face toward the window.
"Mrs... May I call you Trissa? You seem so young to be Mrs. Brewer."
"Yes."
"Trissa, Dr. Edmonds expressed some concern that you may be troubled by something deeper than the accident you described. We thought you might feel more relaxed talking to a woman."
"Dr. Edmonds told me you would be coming. I promised I would be truthful. As much as I could be." She squeezed her eyes against a sudden mist of tears.
"I came only to help you. There is nothing about me you should worry about. Ask me whatever you want. Tell me anything that I could do."
"I don't know what to ask or tell you."
"You could start by describing the accident to me. From the beginning."
Trissa swiped at her eyes with the baggy sleeve of her hospital robe and sighed. She would not look directly at Georgia but perched on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed out the window. "I was walking. It was dark and I was stumbling along, thinking and not paying attention to where I was going. I was being stupid and careless, and Nicholas -- Nicholas came looking for me, I think."
"Looking for you?"
Trissa glanced at Georgia then quickly away again. "Yes, yes, I'm sure he was looking for me. He saw the train and yelled my name..."
"The trai
n?"
The echoed words startled Trissa. She wished she hadn't said them. Fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, she pulled a thread loose to unravel it. There was a long gap of silence. But eventually her shoulders sagged with resignation and she continued, "Yes. I told you I was stupid. I was walking on the tracks. He -- Nicholas risked his life to save mine. He was hurt too, didn't you see that? He could have been killed, but he saved me."
"But he's your husband--"
"Yes. My husband. He called my name and pushed me out of the way."
Couldn't she see the story was too fantastic and delivered too haltingly to have been made up? It was only part of the truth and not the most important part.
"Trissa, why were you on the tracks?"
"I told you. I was walking. And thinking."
"Were you running away, Trissa?"
She could not answer.
After long moments filled with only the sound of Patty's strained breathing. the woman asked again. "Were you running away from your husband?"
"No."
"If you don't want to go home with him, I can find someplace for you. Or perhaps your parents?"
Trissa flinched, clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, shaking her head. "No, not my parents. Where -- what do you mean by someplace?"
"A shelter. A place for women who want to be safe and have nowhere to go," she said. "No one but us would know the location."
Trissa's voice came out soft and filled with uncertainty. She tried the words to convince herself, "I -- I can go home with Nicholas. He said I could. Yes, he was looking for me, wasn't he? I will go home with him." Her hands clenched into hard fists. "They can't make me go anywhere I don't want to go, can they?"
Georgia rose and stepped toward her, patting her white-knuckled hands. "No one wants to make you do anything. But are you sure this is what you want?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm very sure."
"Please, let me talk to Mr. Brewer before you decide. Dr. Edmonds is concerned for your safety."
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