She needed help. Lucas glanced around. Should he get involved? He couldn’t leave her unattended. He unclipped his water bottle and swept her tangled hair from her face. It was Maryanne!
His chest constricted, and his head felt like balloons blowing up. Heat rushed to his extremities, and his fingers ached. What the hell happened to her?
He tried to help her sit up. She was limp and slouched face forward, so he drew her into his arms and held the water bottle to her mouth. Her head lolled against his chest, and the water dribbled down her chin. She smelled like flowery shampoo and stale beer.
He called 911. “Yes, a woman, possible alcohol poisoning. Name is Maryanne Torres. She’s passed out at Lion Community Church on River Road. Near the back entrance, the dumpsters. She’s alive, but unresponsive.”
Maryanne made gurgling noises. Her forehead was burning. He dribbled more water into her mouth, and he propped her between his legs, holding her while he waited for the ambulance. She whimpered, incoherent. Once or twice, she called his name, but he couldn’t be sure she was conscious.
“It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m here. Talk to me. It’s me, Lucas. Tell me you’re okay,” he mumbled a litany of comforting words, but his chest pulsed hot and cold. He shouldn’t have left her last night to fend for herself. He’d let her down when she needed him.
Sirens blared and an ambulance pulled into the service drive followed by a black Mercedes. The EMTs peeled Maryanne out of his arms and placed her on a stretcher. “We’ll take it from here, any more information from what you gave on the phone? Amount of alcohol ingested? Any drugs?”
“I don’t know,” Lucas replied. “I just found her.”
A police cruiser pulled up, scattering the group of homeless bystanders. An officer stepped out of the car toward Lucas. “Sir, you called in a crime?”
“Yes, this woman was dumped here after getting drunk at a party.” Lucas told him how he was on a training run around the church when he picked up a bottle to throw in the trash.
“So you’re saying someone left her here?”
“Yes, I know who did this to her.” Lucas glanced at the black Mercedes.
A man with slicked-back hair exited the car and pocketed his sunglasses. He walked past Lucas and shook the police officer’s hand. “I’m Barry O’Brien, legal counsel for Lion Community. We get a lot of bums hanging around for the soup kitchen ministry.”
“She wasn’t a bum,” Lucas cut in. “She was a guest at the party last night at the pastor’s house.”
The police officer opened his notebook. “Really?”
The lawyer crossed his arms over his flawless suit. “And how would you know?”
“Because I was there.”
Mr. O’Brien touched his chin, appearing to think. “I get it. You dump her here and call the police. How much money are you trying to extort?”
“What?” Lucas gasped and turned toward the officer. “This isn’t about money. She was unconscious and needed help.”
The officer shook his head and rubbed his mustache. “Not sure there’s been a crime. Appreciate you calling it in, but like he says, there are a lot of drunks and street people we find in various stages of consciousness every day. Most of them live from hit to hit.”
“I know Maryanne. She wouldn’t have been crawling on the streets. She has a job. I saw her at the party last night.”
“So you say.” Mr. O’Brien grunted and looked Lucas up and down. “You don’t look like a member of our church. What were you doing there?”
The officer opened the door to his cruiser. “I have to get going. If you want to come to the station, call this number.”
He handed Lucas a card for a detective and departed.
The lawyer scanned the surroundings and grabbed Lucas’ t-shirt. “I don’t know what trouble you’re trying to cause, punk.”
“You don’t scare me,” Lucas said between his teeth. “Pastor Edwards’ son was with her last night. What did he do to her?”
O’Brien shoved Lucas into a chain-linked fence. “You come over here crazy, spouting off accusations. Get your black ass off this property.”
“Black ass? What is this, the 1950’s? If you don’t have anything to hide, you wouldn’t be threatening me.”
The lawyer straightened his lapels. “Be careful who you mess with.”
~~~
Maryanne blinked and pushed the tiny flashlight away. A man in a white coat stood over her. She lay on a gurney with an IV in her arm. Her head swam like she was on a whale-watching boat, and her stomach tossed like an overturned buoy.
“Miss Torres, I’m Dr. Thomas. You’re in the K-Care emergency room. Are you up to telling us what happened?”
Maryanne clutched her dry throat. A nurse handed her a cup of water.
“I don’t know,” she croaked.
“You tested positive for ketamine, an animal tranquilizer used for date rape. Do you want a rape screen?”
“Rape?” A rolling tightness ground in Maryanne’s gut. She didn’t remember anything happening.
“Do you believe you might have had sex while drugged? If you were unable to consent, it is rape.”
“I was feeling strange, not just drunk, but no. I wouldn’t have done anything.” Maryanne clutched the hospital gown.
“I recommend it based on your blood alcohol level and amount of drugs in your system. Let me call an officer to escort you to OB/Gyn to collect evidence.”
Evidence? They’d take pictures of her naked body and swab every orifice. Maryanne knew the staff. Of course, no one would say anything, but they’d read over her medical records, and she’d have to answer intrusive questions, like whether she’d been pregnant before.
“Actually, I don’t need it.” She waved at the doctor. “It was a church activity and my friends were there.”
The doctor lowered his reading glasses. “Your choice. If you have any problems breathing, hallucinations, blurred vision, let us know. You should make an appointment with general medicine to follow up on any health risks from the ketamine. I’ll write you a prescription for prophylactic antibiotics.”
He entered the prescription into the computer while a nurse helped Maryanne into a wheelchair. She took her to a recovery room. Vera and Lucas stood near the door.
“Careful, you may be a bit unsteady.” The nurse helped her onto the bed. Maryanne wiggled her toes. Tingling and numb. She still felt like she was on a rolling rowboat.
Vera hugged her. “What happened? I feel so bad.”
Tears seeped through Maryanne’s eyes. “I was so stupid. I shouldn’t have been drinking.”
“Is everything okay between you and Lucas?” Vera whispered. “If he took you home, how did you end up at the dumpster?”
“Huh, what are you talking about?” Maryanne darted a glance at Lucas who stood near the door. He caught the hint and stepped out, shutting the door quietly.
“When did you leave the party?” Vera persisted.
“I’m too tired to think.” Maryanne yawned. Everything felt heavy, weighted down. She stared at the holes in the ceiling tile. A spinning globe, a big dog, and water. Her body didn’t feel like hers, numb and empty. The cut on her palm throbbed, but nothing else hurt.
Vera opened a duffel bag. “Let’s take you home. You’re probably going to be sick all weekend.”
“I feel like I’m not really me. My arms and legs are dumb logs and my head is a big balloon.”
Vera handed her a pair of warm-up pants, an oversized t-shirt and her flip-flops. Maryanne’s muscles were stiff, and she struggled into the clothes. After she crawled onto the wheelchair, Vera pushed the door open.
Lucas stepped in and took the handles. He had a stern, undecipherable look on his face. Maryanne stared at her lap. The emergency room nurse said Lucas had found her at the dumpster and called 911. But Vera said he had taken her home. She was spinning again, warm and cold, chattering teeth and sweating nose. Why couldn’t she remember anything
about the party?
~~~
Lucas fluffed the pillow and tucked Maryanne’s head back on it. She mostly slept, waking up to use the bathroom or sip the chicken broth he fed her. She mumbled about large dogs, a spinning globe, seaweed on her face, and a handheld showerhead.
He and Vera had taken turns to watch over her, not that he minded. He couldn’t think about leaving her alone. The glass heart he gave her lay on her night table next to the golden box of chocolates. His handwritten note sat under the heart.
He brushed her silky hair. Her eyelids fluttered in a dream, like butterfly wings. A tinge of color had returned to her cheeks, and her skin felt warm. So pretty and delicate. She smelled sweet, like the lavender olive soap Vera used on her.
He lay down and moved her face to rest on his chest. He should never have pushed her away. But her intensity had frightened him. He liked her, a lot. But the jealousy that burnt his heart when he saw her with Ryan flared uncontrolled. He closed his eyes and hummed comforting words to himself, breathing in and out, slowly, letting it go.
Maryanne stirred and moaned.
“Hey, you okay?” He rubbed circles between her shoulder blades.
“What time is it?” She touched his face and tickled his sprouting beard.
“Monday morning, but Vera called Dr. Lee already. He said to come back to work when you’re ready.”
“You’ve been here the whole time?”
“I took turns with Vera.” He caressed her smooth face. “Feeling better?”
“Are you mad at me?”
Lucas scratched the back of his neck, trying to quell the hardness in his stomach. “Yes, but more at myself. I should have forced you to leave that damn party. I didn’t know they’d go so far as to dump you in the parking lot.”
“Were you at the party?” Her face had that vacant expression.
He snapped his head and blinked. “You don’t remember? I tried to get you to leave, but you threw a drink in my face and went back in that room with Ryan.”
She covered her face, her fingers massaging her temple. “I can’t remember. I see and hear strange things, like in a dream. I remember the dumpster, the black wheel, and cutting my hand.”
“You don’t remember drinking? Or being with Ryan?”
Her head shook slowly, as a look of horror opened her eyes wide. “I was with him? Like how? You saw me?”
“You were his date in the private Pictionary game.”
“No, I wouldn’t have done anything. Everything’s fuzzy, like chasing clouds and grabbing at dandelion seeds.”
His heart settled with relief. She hadn’t done anything with Ryan. Most likely she’d vomited on her clothes, and somebody threw her in the shower to sober up. He tipped her face to look at him. “The good news is the police found your purse, keys and cell phone in your car. Maybe someone brought you there and put you inside your car. Do you remember who?”
“No.” Her lower lip trembled and tears spilled onto her cheek. “I really messed up, didn’t I? Can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Lucas’ throat tightened. “I hope you learned your lesson. When you’re unhappy, it’s not the time to go drinking.”
That came out harsher than he intended. She rolled off his chest and lay on her pillow, appearing to mull over his words. Her eyes closed and she inhaled and exhaled through her nose, and then wiped another tear. “I don’t even know what happened, but I feel you’re disappointed with me.”
He propped his head to the side of hers. “No, no. Hurt. You hurt me when you went out with Ryan. I thought we were in a relationship. Shh… I know you thought Sandra was my live-in bed partner, but it made me mad that you didn’t even ask me about it.”
She hiccupped with a sob and buried her face into her pillow. “I ruined the best thing in my life. Vera said to use Ryan to make you jealous and you’d come back to me, that men don’t want women who wait around for them.”
How could he stay angry at her with that admission? He cuddled her shaking shoulders and pulled her into his arms. “Come here. I’m not most men.”
He couldn’t fall in love before achieving his dreams. But if she’d wait for him, wait until after the 2016 Olympics, maybe they could become closer. Jealousy was definitely an emotion he didn’t relish. He couldn’t be worrying about her while away at training camps and races.
“Hey, don’t cry, okay?” He kissed the side of her head and tucked her further in his arms. “If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be here.”
Her sobbing subsided, and she peeked at him through wet lashes. “I’ll never interfere with your dreams, Lucas.” She kissed his cheek. “I care about you too.”
Her light breath in his ear stirred his insides with warm tingles. His pulse collided with his quickened breathing and tripped his feelings over his heart. He stared into her eyes, deep pools of dark coffee. “I definitely want to be your friend and see where it goes. I want to take it slowly, not rush into emotions we can’t handle.”
A wan smile lifted her cheeks. “I’ll follow your lead.”
“Friends, maybe a little bit more.” He nuzzled her nose. “The kissing and hugging kind.”
“And the licking and touching. I like it.” She kissed him squarely on the lips. “I like it a lot.”
Chapter 11
Lucas tightened his goggles and jumped feet first over the cliff near the Santa Cruz Surfer’s Museum. The cold water hit him like an ice truck. Zach, the show-off, dived and broke the water next to him. He surfaced and shook his blond hair off his face. “Race you to the wharf.”
“If I win, you tell me what happened at the party,” Lucas shouted.
Zach kicked off and started swimming. Lucas bit back a growl. It had been like this all week. Lucas inquiring and Zach ignoring him. He tucked his head into the water and swam. Surfers floated among the kelp near the cliff where the waves broke.
The water was choppy and every so often, he’d take in a mouthful and spit it out. His muscles complained, and his lungs ached, but he kept swimming. The ocean swells made some triathletes, like Zach, seasick. But as always, Zach couldn’t let Lucas pull something over him. Ever since he heard Lucas had swum from Lighthouse Point Park to the wharf, he’d been bragging how he could race him and win.
Lucas pushed on, pummeling his muscles and punishing his lungs. Stroke, kick, stroke, kick, breathe. Ahead of him, Zach slowed and turned onto his back.
“What’s the matter?” Lucas swam to him and tread water.
“Caught a cramp.” Zach winced and pointed to his lower leg. “I’m going to rest. You go ahead.”
“Nope,” Lucas said. “We’re partners. Why don’t you lie back like a lady and let me drag you in.”
“No way. I’m a stronger swimmer than you.” Zach turned on his side, his face scrunched with pain.
“I’m going to have to pull you in, buddy. And while I’m saving your ass, you better tell me what went down at the party.” Lucas looped his elbow around Zach’s jaw holding his face out of the water. “Talk.”
“I don’t really know, mate. What I hear doesn’t make sense.”
“Tell me.” Lucas side-stroked and scissor kicked, but their progress was slow.
“They say you took her home.”
“But you don’t believe it, do you? What did you see?”
A swell lifted them and water splashed over Zach’s face. He sputtered. “I didn’t see anything.”
“When did you leave?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
Disgusted, Lucas pushed Zach away from him. “What’s wrong with you? Are you my friend or not?”
“My cramp’s better. Listen, I was with someone and she doesn’t want to be exposed.”
“I don’t care who you were with. Tell me what went down with Maryanne. The guys on the team, they must have talked.”
Zach swam a few yards. “They’re all saying you took her home.”
“That’s a lie. What do you think?”
“I heard you showed up looking for Maryanne, but the woman I was with put a scarf around my eyes and led me away for a private one-on-one. I looked for you later, but heard you’d gone already, and I assumed you found Maryanne and took her home.”
A wave swelled up and broke over their heads. Cold water tossed gritty sand and slimy strands of seaweed around Lucas’ face as he swam furiously toward the wharf. He scrambled up the beach and tore off his goggles, retching and throwing up bile. God help him if they had raped Maryanne. If nothing had happened, why were they trying to pin it on him?
~~~
After a week at home, Maryanne struggled back to work. Fortunately, everyone treated her as if nothing had happened, at least nothing more than a bad hangover. She spent all day catching up on her patients’ charts and giving skin tests. The routine was comforting, and Maryanne glided through the day, feeling more energetic than she had for a long time. She had thrown out all the alcohol from her apartment. She was turning a new leaf. Coming back stronger and better.
Five o’clock finally came, and Priya lowered the rolling shutters before heading out the door.
Vera propped herself on a stool next to Maryanne. “You still talking to Lucas?”
Maryanne finished the notes and closed the folder. “We’re good friends.”
“That’s all he wants to be?”
“Yep. How about you? Have you and Frank?”
Vera smirked. “No! Waiting for you to go first. I want that spa weekend and bragging rights. We started this bet Valentines Day and here it is, June. I don’t think I can stand it anymore.”
“Prepare to lose. Lucas isn’t going to try anything.”
“Do you guys kiss?”
“A little. He wants to focus on his goals, and he can’t control his emotions if we get too close.”
Vera walked her fingers on Maryanne’s tabletop. “Never stopped other guys.”
“Don’t I know it.” Maryanne tucked the last file folder into the drawer. A weight of gloom settled over her at the thought of the men who’d used her.
Vera walked with Maryanne out the door. “You want to give up on the bet?”
Hidden Under Her Heart Page 8
