Cold Hearts

by Sharon Sala

  * * *

  Mr. Wilson was on his way to the cafeteria to get a sausage biscuit to have with his coffee when he heard the noise at the far end of the hall and started running. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he could already see water coming out from under the door to the boys’ bathroom.

  The cooks had also heard the noise and come running from the school cafeteria.

  The head cook was a woman they called Miss Eula. When she saw the principal running, she called out, “What was that?”

  “I don’t know,” Wilson said, pushing the bathroom door inward. The first thing he saw was Louis lying on the floor with part of the ceiling on top of him and a huge hole above. He ran back out into the hall. “Call 911!” he yelled. “Part of the ceiling fell in. Louis is pinned beneath it!”

  Miss Eula turned and pointed at one of the cooks. “Rhonda, you make the call and wait to lead them in. The rest of you, come with me.”

  They followed the principal back into the bathroom. They immediately began removing the debris from Louis’s body, and Miss Eula got down on her knees and held towels to Louis’s bleeding face, while the other cooks tried to mop up the water to keep it from running into nearby classrooms.

  Wilson called his secretary to send out an emergency text to the parents and personnel that there would be no school and that it would resume on Monday. Then he contacted the local school superintendent, Will Porter, requesting an electrician and plumber on-site ASAP. All he could tell them was that there was a water leak somewhere up in the ceiling and no way of knowing how many rooms it would impact before it was found and fixed.

  He groaned. Friday just kept getting worse.

  Louis regained consciousness as they were removing the debris, but when he tried to get up both Mr. Wilson and Miss Eula insisted he was not to move, so he lay as still as possible in the cold water, watching them work. He still wasn’t sure what had happened and started fretting about picking Mama up at the bus stop later.

  “Am I okay?” he kept asking. “I can’t be hurt. Mama is coming to visit me this evening. I have to go get her at the bus stop.”

  Wilson was on his knees by Louis, trying to keep him from moving.

  “I don’t know how hurt you are, Louis, but you have to go to the hospital and let them check you out first,” he said. “I think your nose might be broken, and there are some cuts on your face.”

  Louis was in enough shock that the pain was minimal, but things were beginning to burn and sting on his face, and it was hard to breathe through his nose.

  “Yes, okay,” he said, “but I still have to get Mama at five o’clock.”

  Rhonda ran back into the bathroom.

  “Ambulance is here!” she cried, and moments later the small bathroom got even smaller as a half dozen firemen and two EMTs entered.

  As soon as the fire department realized there was a leak somewhere above, a couple of the firemen headed back outside to turn the water off at the meter.

  “He can move his arms and legs,” Wilson said, and then he pointed at the debris piled up against the far wall. “All of that was on top of him when we found him.”

  “Was he facedown or on his back?” one EMT asked.

  “On his back,” Wilson said.

  They put a collar on Louis to immobilize his head and neck, and began to assess his vitals. A few minutes later they moved him onto the gurney, fastened the straps to keep him stabilized and wheeled him out to the waiting ambulance.

  Louis stared up at the ceiling as they passed beneath it, absently counting the number of burned-out fluorescent lightbulbs that needed to be replaced, and wanted to cry. All kinds of stuff was hurting now, his face most of all.

  He guessed he was messed up like Reece now, but at least he had an alibi and witnesses as to how he got hurt. They couldn’t blame him for attacking that guy. That was on Reece, the stupid bastard.

  * * *

  Lissa’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket, signaling a text. She woke abruptly and quickly glanced at Mack, who was still asleep. He’d had a rough night, and now that he was finally resting, she didn’t want to disturb him.

  Then she read the text and frowned. No school due to a massive water leak. Although it no longer impacted her life, it did give Mr. Wilson more time to find a substitute for her class. She dropped the phone back in her pocket and then slipped out of the room long enough to go to the public bathroom up the hall, where she washed her face and finger combed her hair before heading back.

  The shifts were changing, and a fresh batch of nurses were making rounds and assessing the patients’ vitals. She grabbed a cup of coffee from the table set up for visitors’ convenience and hurried back.

  A nurse was already at Mack’s bedside checking his IV and taking note of his blood pressure readings, and when she saw Lissa she smiled and introduced herself.

  “I’m Jewel. I’ll be Mr. Jackson’s nurse today.”

  “I’m Lissa. Does he have a fever? He was very restless all night.”

  “Just a little. Nothing out of the ordinary for someone just coming out of surgery. I understand he’s something of a hero.”

  Lissa’s eyes welled with tears. “He always was.”

  The nurse left just as Lissa noticed Mack was waking up, and when he reached out, she clasped his hand.

  It was the sound of voices that pulled Mack out of the darkness, and when he heard Lissa’s voice he remembered. There’d been a fight and a man with a knife who’d been there to hurt her.

  “Melissa?”

  “I’m here. You’re in the hospital. You’ve had surgery, so you need to lie still.”

  He exhaled slowly. It hurt to move, but he finally managed to open his eyes. She’d been crying. “You’re...not hurt?”

  “No, I’m not hurt.”

  He curled his fingers around her wrist.

  Lissa couldn’t bear to let one more minute go by without making peace between them.

  “I need to talk to you, and I don’t want you to interrupt me until I’ve finished, okay?”

  Mack was groggy. “Might not remember,” he muttered.

  “Then, I’ll tell you again,” she said.

  “Deal,” he said, and he managed a slight smile.

  She threaded her fingers through his and then held on, needing more than just her strength to get through this.

  “I know it’s not your fault you didn’t know about the miscarriage. It’s Mom and Dad’s fault. They lied to me. Their lies were unfair to both of us, and we fell right into the mess they made for us. I will never know or understand why. But I should have called you the moment I got back to Mystic, and I didn’t. You should have asked me about what you heard, but you didn’t. We were both so young, and we loved so hard, that the first time we faced a crisis, we broke. I just want you to know how sorry I am. We lost so much. I would give anything to get that back.”

  Mack’s grip tightened around her fingers. “So would I,” he said.

  The panic she’d been feeling began to fade. It was like getting her best friend ever back in her life. She tried to smile but was so overwhelmed by what was happening between them that all she could do was cry.

  “No, Lissa, don’t cry. This is all good, okay?”

  She nodded as she swiped at the tears, but they just kept coming. “I’m happy and I’m scared and I’m frustrated. Your father was murdered, I’m being stalked, there’s a killer among us and no one has the slightest idea of where to start looking. I’m not allowed to go back to my house until the stalker is caught. Chief Jakes said the man was too dangerous. I even had to take a leave of absence from school because he also believes the stalker might try to get to me at school, and that would put the children’s lives in danger. Everything is wonderful between us because we’ve made peace, and everything’s awful about what’s happening to us, and that’s why I’m crying.”

  Mack groaned. He could feel himself fading again. “You’ll be with me. We’ll do it...together. Sorry. Can’t...”


  And then he was out.

  Lissa stumbled backward to the chair where she’d spent the night and sank into the seat, too numb to think beyond what he had said. They would be together.

  She wasn’t alone in the world anymore.

  * * *

  T. J. Silver heard the news about Mack Jackson’s bravery at the coffee shop while he was waiting for his father. His eyes narrowed angrily as he listened to the waitress extolling Mack’s heroism to the couple at the table behind him.

  “...said she found him covered in blood and hasn’t left his side since,” she said.

  That alone pissed him off. He’d gone to check on her and been rebuffed. But Jackson was an old flame, and his father’s death had brought them back together. Life was an ironic fuckup, and he didn’t give a damn who she liked. He could have his pick of all the girls. It just pissed him off that she’d been the one to end the relationship. It was the only failure of his entire life, and he had no idea how to handle it.

  He heard the door jingle and looked up to see his father approaching the table. Good. He was ready to get busy with his father’s upcoming announcement that he was running for the district’s state senate seat. They had almost settled on a campaign manager and needed to set a firm date for the announcement party so things could get under way.

  T.J. smiled at his dad as he sat down and handed him a menu.

  “I’m having the roast beef sandwich au jus and peach cobbler. What sounds good to you?”

  Marcus shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  T.J. frowned. “What’s wrong, Dad? Are you feeling okay?”

  Marcus glanced around the crowded diner. He knew nearly every face in here and was better off financially than all of them, and yet the excitement was gone from his life. He was bothered by a lot of things and didn’t know how to put them into words.

  “I’m fine,” he said abruptly. “That cobbler sounds good, but I believe I’ll have the beans and corn bread today.”

  T.J. arched an eyebrow. “Beans and corn bread. Eating lowbrow, are you?”

  Marcus looked up and frowned at the smirk on his son’s face. “I like beans and corn bread, and just because food is cheap to make doesn’t mean it’s beneath us to eat it.”

  T.J. caught the glimmer of criticism in the tone of his father’s voice and immediately shifted his attitude.

  “Oh, no, no, that’s not what I meant, Dad. Sorry if I came across a little snobby. I was just making conversation, that’s all.”

  Marcus shrugged it off. He loved his son, but he’d been spoiled by the good life, something that he had to take the blame for, but he didn’t have to tolerate him being a snob.

  “So what’s on your agenda today?” Marcus asked as he waved the waitress over so they could order.

  T.J. leaned forward, excitement in his voice as he said, “Helping you plan your announcement party. Do you still want to do it at Christmas? I think it would be the proper time, but if so, we need to get that guest list finalized, and invitations printed and sent out by Thanksgiving at the latest.”

  Marcus hesitated. “I guess. Timing is everything, and I don’t want to jump the gun before everything else is in place.”

  T.J. leaned back, accepting his father’s decision.

  “Whatever you say, Dad. This is your thing, not mine. I just want to do my part to help when you give the word.”

  Marcus sighed. “You’re a good son. I guess I need to go ahead and make that trip to the capitol, hire that campaign manager and then let him do all the work. That’s what I’ll be paying him for, right?”

  “Right. Are you going today?”

  “Yes, I’ll leave right after we eat.”

  T.J. was glad the ball was finally rolling on his dad’s big dream, and when the waitress arrived at their table, he flashed a broad smile.

  “Hello, Jennifer. We’re ready to order now.” He gave her his order while Marcus stared absently across his son’s head to the people beyond.

  * * *

  It was noon when Louis left the ER with a half dozen staples in his forehead, butterfly bandages on the smaller cuts on his face and wads of gauze stuffed up his nose. His clothing was mostly dry, and he didn’t have a concussion or any broken bones, thanks to the fact that the water-soaked ceiling tiles had come apart in soggy pieces on impact. If it hadn’t been for the metal grid holding them, which had also fallen, he would have been fine.

  However, one eye was swollen shut, and his lips were so puffy it hurt to talk. The bruising on his face was going to be spectacular by tomorrow, the doctor had told him. Louis wasn’t quite sure how to take that, but he was very glad tomorrow was Saturday. By the time Monday rolled around, he planned to be back at work. No way was he going to be stuck at home with his mother and Reece for days on end. The weekend would be enough.

  An orderly going off duty had offered to drive him home, but Louis asked to be taken back to the school parking lot instead. He needed his truck to go get Mama.

  “Man, are you sure you’re fit to drive?” the orderly asked as he pulled up behind Louis’s truck.

  “I can walk and talk and I can see. I can drive myself home,” Louis said.

  Reece was asleep when Louis walked into the house. It felt strange to be back this time of day. Bobo trotted out to meet him and licked the toe of his work shoe as Louis paused in the hall. When he didn’t hear any movement, he went into the kitchen.

  He’d missed eating breakfast at school, and he’d missed lunch, which was also at school. Even though he hurt, he knew he needed to eat something or the pain meds they’d given him would make him sick.

  He was prowling through the refrigerator for something easy when his phone signaled a text. It was from the principal, Mr. Wilson, asking if he was okay and if he needed anything.

  Louis was touched that his boss had been concerned enough to check on him and sent a quick text back.

  I’m okay. Don’t need anything.

  Bobo whined once as he sniffed at him again. Louis guessed he smelled funny. The hospital had used all kinds of antiseptic stuff on him.

  “Yes, it’s still me, Bobo. I just hurt. Do you want out?”

  Bobo trotted toward the door.

  As soon as the dog was outside, Louis opted for something soft and got a leftover bowl of macaroni and cheese, nuked it in the microwave, then sat down at the table with a fork and ate it. When he’d had enough to satisfy the gripe in his belly, he put it back in the refrigerator. He didn’t feel like going to the store or doing anything fancy for his mother’s visit, so he let the dog in, set the alarm to wake himself up in plenty of time to go pick her up and then went to bed.

  It felt strange to be going to bed this early, but he was beginning to ache in every muscle and he wanted to cry. Instead, he pulled up the covers and closed his eyes. Because of the gauze in his nostrils he was going to have to sleep with his mouth open, which would make him snore.

  It was not the best day of his life.

  * * *

  Lissa was sitting cross-legged in the chair near Mack’s bed. He talked in his sleep, either from the pain meds or it was a habit she’d known nothing about, but she had heard enough to know he was dreaming, and in the dreams he was young. He kept mumbling his mother’s name and telling her he’d fed the puppy. He muttered something about going to his grandparents’ house, and then moaned and settled again. He woke briefly and told her that he loved her, and then drifted back to sleep.

  She couldn’t stop his pain, and she couldn’t change the ten years they’d lost, but there was one thing she could do that would mean something to him.

  She sent a text to her friend Margaret and then waited. About a half hour later Margaret texted that she was in the second-floor waiting room. Lissa went out to meet her, and her friend greeted her with a tote bag and a smile.

  “I am so sorry this happened,” Margaret said as she gave Lissa a big hug. “I wish you’d told me about being stalked. I have three really big brothers who don�
�t take well to men abusing women in any way.”

  “If I’d known about the brothers I sure might have,” Lissa said. “Did you find everything?”

  Margaret handed her the tote bag.

  “Everything, and now I’m going to impose on our friendship and worry about you. What are you going to do when you go home? I can recommend a man who installs security systems.”

  “I can’t go home until the stalker is caught, and the truth is, I dread going back even when I can.”

  “Why?” Margaret said. “I thought you loved living in the house where you grew up.”

  Lissa thought again of her parents’ betrayal.

  “In the past few days, a lot of things have changed my opinion of home. And there’s the fact that the stalker did a lot of damage, like a broken window in the back door, broken glass and Mack’s blood all over the kitchen floor. They dusted for fingerprints, so there’s no telling how much dirt that left, too. And there’s my bedroom. He tore it to pieces.”

  “Melissa! I’m so sorry. Will you let us help? Everyone from school is upset on your behalf. If it’s okay with the police, will you let us clean up the house for you?”

  “Oh, Margaret, no! It’s a horrible mess.”

  “We don’t mind messes, girl. We deal with puke and germs on a daily basis, remember? And since teachers’ salaries are less than they should be, cleaning up costs nothing to us but time. It’s the perfect way for us to give back.”

  Lissa heard the sincerity in Margaret’s voice and didn’t want to deny her friends the right to help. “Then, I accept with gratitude,” she said, and dug her house key out of her purse. “Check with Chief Jakes, and if it’s okay with him, then it’s okay with me, too.”

  “Great!” Margaret said. Then she glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet. “I need to go. Gotta pick my girls up from basketball practice. I’ll get your key back to you soon.”

  Lissa walked Margaret back to the elevator. “Thanks again for getting this stuff for me,” she said, holding up the tote bag.