by Love, Aimee
“That FBI guy is pretty hot, but if you break up with Joe, you’re an idiot.”
“Who’s us?” Aubrey asked. “And if it was anything illegal, you better tell me now because if those guys can recover anything…”
“It’s nothing illegal and they can’t recover it,” Vina promised. “I reformatted the external hard drive.”
Aubrey closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the pain killers finally taking effect.
She heard Drake bark inside the cabin and a moment later a car door slammed out front. She assumed it was more FBI or police, until she saw Joe burst through the front door, looking around frantically. She saw Matt point and Joe hurried out to her, nearly sliding the door shut on Matt as he followed in his wake.
Joe didn’t say anything when he got to Aubrey, he just wrapped his arms around her.
“I guess you heard,” Vina observed.
Joe nodded and released Aubrey, looking at her hard.
“You’re hurt,” he looked at the bandage on her neck. “What happened?”
“It was a sting…” Vina started to tell him the whole story but he turned and yelled at her.
“I don’t give two shits about the damn FBI or police and I don’t want to hear it from you.”
Aubrey’s eyes went wide. She’d never seen him angry, and certainly never would have believed he’d yell at Vina. Then she realized Vina didn’t protest, but just took the abuse. Something she didn’t quite grasp was definitely going on.
“How were you hurt?” Joe asked her, his voice suddenly gentle again. “Is that a bite?” He tried to peak under the bandage on her neck but stopped when she winced.
“Celes…” She caught herself. “The Bitch attacked me. It’s just a scratch. She doesn’t have any teeth.”
Joe cast a dark look at Vina.
“Go call Charlie and see if he and John can come take a look at her,” he ordered. Vina slunk away obediently.
“Charlie is a vet,” Aubrey protested. “And I’ve already been to the ER. They said I was fine.”
“Did you tell ‘em who bit you?” He asked.
“Is that important?” Aubrey asked.
“A couple a years ago she took a chunk out of a tax assessor. He got some kinda blood poisoning. Charlie may be a vet, but he’s got a lot more experience with bites than some intern in the Morristown ER.”
“I told her to get her shots,” Vina said, returning from her phone call. “Charlie is on his way now. Rose is gonna see if she can find John.”
“They ran tests at the ER,” Matt assured them but he should have kept his mouth shut. Joe rounded on him.
“You don’t get to take any part in this discussion except as it pertains to the FBI,” Joe told him, his voice low and dangerously calm. “The minute you decided it was worth puttin’ her in danger to catch the bad guys, you stopped bein’ a friend and became nothin’ but a lawman.”
“She volunteered. Hell, the whole thing was her idea. Besides, she was never in any danger,” Matt assured him.
Joe pointed to her neck.
“That looks a might dangerous,” he said. “And the version I heard had her locked in a room with the sheriff, who I’m guessin’ was armed, and the crazy old lady who assaulted her. What was the FBI doin’ while she was getting knocked around?”
“She was just supposed to be having a chat with the sheriff at the Waffle House,” Matt told him defensively. “She wasn’t supposed to leave with him.”
“She doesn’t often do what she’s told,” Joe growled.
“Look, I understand that you’re upset, but she’s fine. We had a contingency plan in place. We were following at a safe distance, but they pulled a tractor across the road and we had to find a way around.”
“You used her,” Joe snapped.
Aubrey thought about jumping in, but she wasn’t sure whose side to take.
“She can take care of herself,” Matt assured him, finally losing his temper. “I watched from the shore while she dove through the wreckage of a fishing boat full of refugees that had hit a mine and been blown to bits. They pulled up body parts all day, but even after everyone else had given up, she was still out there, looking for survivors. She’s a hell of a lot stronger than you give her credit for.”
“How far did she have to run before she managed to chase those pictures out a her head?” Joe asked. “How well did she sleep that night? Or the next? I’m bettin’ you don’t know since you weren’t there beside her.”
“Oh, just whip ‘em out and let her measure ‘em,” Vina groaned.
“No need on my part,” Joe said, finally cracking a smile. “She’s seen mine plenty.”
Matt rolled his eyes but one look at Aubrey and he shut his mouth. Her face had gone ashen and an angry red streak was visible on the suddenly pale skin of her neck.
He shoved Joe aside and grabbed her before she could fall, easing her down onto the dock.
“Where’s that doctor?” He asked.
Aubrey reached past him and grabbed Joe’s hand, pulling him down beside her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” she told him. “They had me leave my phone in my car and it’s still at the Waffle House. I tried to get them to let me use one at the hospital, but I don’t know any number for you by heart and… I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not angry at you,” Joe told her, sitting down on the dock beside her and pulling her into his lap so he could cradle her. “I didn’t mean to yell. I was just sittin’ at my desk and one of the kids from the lab next door pops his head in and tells me they’ve just arrested the sheriff of Cocke county and asks isn’t that where I go fishin’? And nobody would say who he’d killed, but I was sure it was you. I was halfway here before I could get anybody to answer their damn phone and then it was Armistead and he didn’t know shit. I didn’t get any real information until I got a hold of Betty just a few minutes before I got here.”
Aubrey rested her head against his shoulder. “I think I’m going to throw up,” she told him apologetically.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Aubrey woke up in a hospital room with Vina sitting beside her.
“What happened?” She asked, surprised at the dry, raspy sound of her own voice.
“I’ll tell you in a few minutes,” Vina said. “How about, like five?”
“Why?”
“On account of you keep waking up and asking that question and then going back to sleep and forgetting and I’m sick of repeating myself. If you’re awake more than five minutes, I’ll fill you in.”
Aubrey nodded.
“How do you feel?” Vina asked.
Aubrey just blinked at
her and watched the clock on the wall.
“Joe?” She finally asked.
“He went to get some pudding. We keep telling them that every time you wake up, you ask for pudding so they’ll give us some. The food here sucks, but they make some pretty good pudding.”
“How long?”
Vina checked her watch.
“Three more minutes. Hang in there.”
“How long have I been asleep?” Aubrey croaked.
Vina shrugged.
“Someone feeding Drake?”
Vina nodded.
“Yeah, for like the fiftieth time. The dog is fine. We’re takin’ care of everything.”
“Tell me,” Aubrey begged, looking at the clock again.
“How do you feel?”
“My leg hurts.”
“And your neck? I’m supposed to ask. The doctor keeps pestering us to ask.”
“Itches,” Aubrey told her.
“Yeah well, that’s probably good. I think it’s supposed to on account of it’s healing.”
“I didn’t hurt my leg
…”
“They took a chunk out of it,” Vina explained. “Okay fine, it’s been four and half, I guess I can fill you in.”
Aubrey closed her eyes and listened.
“And you’re gone again,” Vina said, chuckling.
“No,” Aubrey opened her eyes. Vina looked shocked.
“Okay,” she said. “You went into some kind a toxic shock, septi-something. The Komodo dragon shit. So they got that handled and then your neck goes all necrotic, like a spider bite, and you can’t breathe, which really sucked. You were awake then, only you probably don’t remember on account of you were making this really annoying moaning sound, so we kept hitting your morphine button for you, to shut you up. Anyway, they cut away all the dead flesh and then they had to take a chunk out of your thigh to rebuild it so you wouldn’t have to eat from a tube forever. Don’t worry, they seemed pretty sure that they got you enough air so you won’t be a retard or nothin’.”
“How long?”
“Did you go without air? Hell, I don’t know. It seemed like a really long time to us but…”
“How long have I been here?” Aubrey clarified.
“Just a few days,” Vina told her. “They kicked you out of the hospital once they were sure you weren’t gonna die. Your insurance sucks, by the way. You’re lucky I’m always looking for ways to spend the ingrate’s inheritance.”
“Where am I?”
“You don’t recognize it?” Vina asked.
Aubrey looked around. Through the open door she saw an ancient woman in a wheel chair roll past. She looked at Vina in disbelief.
“It’s the only rehab facility within driving distance,” Vina said defensively. “I got you a private room.”
“The Home?”
Vina shrugged.
“We’ll bust you out as soon as you can swallow and use the john yourself. I’m grateful you got The Bitch locked up, but I’m not changing-your-diapers grateful. Fix me up with the cute G-man and we’ll talk.”
Aubrey closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
When she woke again, Aubrey decided she must be getting better because she knew where she was. Joe was asleep on a chair beside her and she reached over and nudged him.
“Well, hey darlin’,” he grinned over at her. “How you feelin’ today?”
“I…” Aubrey felt like shit. Her muscles were so weak that just laying still and breathing was an effort. Leaning over and nudging Joe had felt like climbing a mountain.
“I need a favor,” she croaked.
“You name it, but I think we’ve got all your bases covered,” he told her. “Drake is stayin’ with Charlie and Rose, Lettie is lookin’ after your web site with the help of one of those FBI techs, and we been payin’ all your bills and stuff. All you need to worry about it getting’ well.”
She wanted to cry from relief and thank him, but she wasn’t sure how long she’d be awake, so she plowed ahead.
“Where’s Vina?” She asked.
“Germaine and Paloma are stayin’ at her house with her, and me and Armistead are checkin’ in on ‘em a few times a day. Judge said it was fine until you were back on your feet.”
“Now?”
“Where is she now? Oh, um… Home asleep I guess. She does the mornin’ shift. We been makin’ sure someone’s always here since nobody knew when you…”
“She isn’t here?”
Joe shook his head.
“You want me to call her? She wouldn’t mind…”
“No.” Aubrey took a deep breath and relaxed. “You have to promise not to tell her. I need a favor, but it has to be a secret.”
“Anything,” he told her without a moment’s hesitation.
“Water?” She asked. Her mouth felt like it was full of sand.
“That ain’t much of a favor,” Joe told her with a grin, trying to make a joke to hide his obvious discomfort. He reached into a bedside drawer and pulled out what looked like a giant pink Q-tip. He dipped it into a cup of water on the night stand and held it out. “I can’t give you a drink,” he said apologetically. “You can’t swallow well enough and it might choke you.” He reached forward and ran the little sponge on a stick around the inside of her mouth, and then threw it in the trash. He pulled a tissue from a box and used it to wipe her chin where some of the water dribbled out.
The horror and indignity of it almost overwhelmed her. Being an invalid was awful, but to have Joe nursing her was intolerable. She remembered running an extra two laps around the lake because she was ashamed to have him see her in lingerie unless her body was as close to perfect as she could make it. And now he was swabbing out her mouth and waiting in the hall while they changed her diapers. If she had the energy, she would have sobbed.
“I need a DNA test,” she told him as soon as she could speak again, “mine against the sheriff’s. Tell Matt I asked. He’ll explain it.”
Joe opened and shut his mouth several times but finally just nodded. Aubrey went to sleep and hoped that he would be gone when she woke up again.
After a few days Aubrey was allowed out of bed, though it took two nurses aids to get her into a wheel chair. She was pushed down to the dining room to eat meals of puree that made her gag and taken to therapy where she was allowed to stand between two bars and complete mundane tasks like folding laundry. She managed to convince everyone but Vina to stop visiting her, and after a week she was taken to a room full of doctors, nurses and therapists where they discussed her prognosis as if she weren’t there.
They said she was young and strong, so would probably make a full recovery, and then went on to list all of the ways that that statement was a lie. The septicemia had weakened her heart muscle and she would never again be able to take a flight of stairs without stopping to rest or do anything else that might tax it. One of the doctors suggested she should be sterilized, since a pregnancy would probably be a death sentence.
A week later she was able to hobble down the hall with a walker and eat without assistance, though they still insisted on serving her mush. She laid in bed at night and watched movies on TV, marveling at the number of action heroes who took gun shots to the chest and were up walking around the next day, when she had barely managed to survive one bite wound from a woman who’s few remaining teeth had been little more than rotting nubs, and who had barely managed to break the skin.
She found it oddly comforting that she was not the youngest person in The Home. There was a boy down the hall who had driven an ATV into a ditch and landed on his head. There was a woman across the way who, for no apparent reason, had stopped breathing in her sleep. She had been revived, but now suffered terrible brain damage. There were car crash victims and there was a diabetic who had had to have one of his legs removed at the knee. Aubrey watched these people muddle through their days and do their therapy and decided she might as well, too.
Joe arrived late one night with a sheaf of papers in his hand. It made Aubrey ache all over to see his wounded expression as he explained that he understood why she didn’t want to see him and had only come to deliver the results of the test she had asked him to perform.
“I got the sheriff’s DNA from Heck,” he told her, “and ran it against yours. You understand there are a bunch of different kinds of tests, right? The one they do on criminals is pretty basic but it’s enough to establish paternity.”
Aubrey nodded.
“You sure you wanna know?” Joe asked. “I’ve done a lot of work with genes and I can tell you it doesn’t make you who you are. It’s just a blueprint. You give the same set a house plans to a dozen builders and you don’t get a dozen identical houses. They may all have the same floor plan but…”
“Just tell me,” Aubrey insisted.
“Mitchell Dunn ain’t your father but...”
Aubrey felt a wave of inten
se relief. “But what?”
“You are related. He may be an uncle or a cousin.”
“But not my father?”
“Nope, no way.”
“Aren’t all the Melungeons closely related?” She asked after a minute’s thought. “Isn’t interbreeding the reason they have the extra fingers sometimes? A reinforced recessive gene or something?”
“Somethin’ like that,” Joe admitted. “But that wouldn’t account for these results. Your relation to the Mosley line is recent. You gotta remember, I’ve studied your family tree. I know who your kin is better than I do my own at this point, and I have to say, I think it’s a pretty good bet your father was one of Mitchell’s close relatives. I don’t specialize in paternity, you understand. I track mitochondrial DNA which is an entirely different kind a test. But I did some checkin’ on this and I’m pretty sure. Can’t you just ask your Mom?”
Aubrey sighed.
“I did. She insists it was some guy she met at a Bread concert. I confronted her about the affair with Mitchell when she called, but she said it was only a fling and she knew he couldn’t have been my father because she only stayed with him in Knoxville for a few days, until her friends showed up to take her to the music festival, and she was on the pill. She said she lost her pills later in the trip and that’s how she knew it couldn’t have been him. She never told him because she knew he’d have a fit if he found out she’d been cheating on him.”
Joe looked distracted.
“Are you on the pill?” He asked, surprising her. It seemed an odd time to be discussing birth control. She thought about telling him that they wanted to sterilize her, but decided he didn’t need to know.
“Why? You think you’re gonna get lucky?” She asked, trying for a light tone but failing.
Joe grinned and shook his head.
“Just thinkin’ about somethin’ else. Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “Your doctor says you can leave here as soon as they get you on real food, so it should only be a few days.”
