SHIPS CompanionSHIP, FriendSHIP, RelationSHIP

by K'Anne Meinel

  Craig and she had several meetings over the course of the next few weeks. He didn’t really need her she felt and had handled her investments wisely. He’d even purchased both studio’s in New York and remodeled them according to what he felt she would want. Looking over the plans and pictures she only had a few suggestions to make. One studio would display her works and other current artists’, the other studio would specialize in artwork from other centuries. It was a massive undertaking but Craig and Bryan had enjoyed the challenge. It was new, it was special, and it honored their mothers wishes they felt. They’d done a terrific job and Joan would have to go to some huge parties to open the new studio’s. Everyone who was anyone in the art world would be invited. They scheduled it so that it would coincide with the release of the first book. Everyone invited who would rsvp’d yes would receive a signed copy. Very few who were invited refused. The guest list swelled. Allan was ecstatic. He hadn’t had this much work and fun since the tour. He found an excellent husband and wife team to manage the galleries for Joan, Craig, and Bryan. They flew in to Wausau for a weekend to meet with the three of them. Joan was happy. Craig was happy. Bryan didn’t care since he was more concerned about his upcoming proposal. The party was due to be a success in the next month.

  Grace was happy to see Joan so busy. She seemed to hum along when she was this busy. She’d find Joan in her studio daily, absentmindedly painting. Taking no note of the time or her surroundings. She’d find Joan there in the middle of the night sometimes, unable to sleep, some detail that needed finishing. Incredible work came out of those hands. It was nice to have the ‘old’ Joan back, although there were parts of the ‘new’ Joan there as well. Grace was able to settle into her own position. She was busy now that she was chief. One day, no one in her department was available and she had to run down to the ER to assess a patient that they wanted to keep overnight. She remembered meeting with him one day about 8 months ago for another consult. They hadn’t kept him then because he wasn’t dangerous to himself or others but today they would keep him. His behavior was erratic, he was talking with himself, he was not making sense, babbling to someone or something. After signing his admission papers Grace made plans to visit with him later. She had a staff meeting to attend at 3 and wasn’t able to see him in the psychiatric ward until almost 4:30. His behavior had calmed by then. She took off his restraints and began talking to him. Before she knew it he attacked her. It took two orderlies to pull him off of her but by then she was badly hurt.

  The phone was ringing and Joan was annoyed that the answering machine wasn’t apparently on. Furthermore, where the heck was Mrs. Richardson. Looking at the clock required her to focus before it penetrated that it was after 5 and Mrs. Richardson had probably left for the day. Sighing, Joan put down her paintbrush in a can a spirits to clean it. She picked up the extension on what had to be the twelfth ring.

  “WHAT?” The annoyance and exasperation were clear in her voice.

  “Joan?!” confusion at the abrupt answer was apparent.

  Recognizing Jason’s voice Joan relaxed a bit but was still distracted looking at her painting and realizing something she needed to do. “Hi, Jason, no offense but I don’t want to see you anymore except socially” she joked.

  “Joan, I’m not calling about that. It’s Grace. There’s been an accident here at the hospital. Could you come and get her?”

  Alarmed Joan became very calm “what kind of an accident?” Surely it couldn’t be bad if he was calling to have her take Grace home.

  “A patient attacked her. She’s been pretty beaten up.” The anger and disgust were in Jason’s voice.

  “Is she in the ER?” Joan was trying to remain calm.

  His yes had her telling him she would be there in a few minutes as she hung up the extension. Joan ran out of the room tearing off her painting smock. She ran down the stairs stumbling on the last couple, she thought, great I’ll break an ankle if I don’t slow down. She went into the kitchen and turned off the oven which held their dinner. She grabbed her jacket and keys and headed out the door. She pushed the button on her keyring for the door to the carriage house and then the one to remote start the Mercedes. It took her moments to get into it and she didn’t bother warming it up, she just backed out and tore down the driveway, punching the button for the gate as the garage door closed behind her. She sped through the gate which closed behind her automatically and sped down the black topped road. Taking the curve at the end she skidded a little and told herself to slow down. Once on the highway she sped, her European engine revving up the road. She was soon downtown and roaring into the ER bay. She parked in the emergency area and ran inside.

  At the desk she asked where she could find Dr. Grace Monroe? She was told if she sat in chairs someone would be with her shortly. Exasperated she dismissed him and began to look around to see if she knew anyone. She started down the hall. The desk clerk was like “hey you can’t go down there!” He sent security after her. She spotted Jason leaving a room and as security grabbed her arms she yelled to him. Trying to unsuccessfully shake off security she tried to tell them to let go but they wouldn’t. With a foot wrapped around one guys leg she shoved him down as the other tried to grab her around the middle. She bent over at the waist and threw him over her. They both lay there stunned as she continued down the hall, she’d barely changed her breathing. Jason looked on in bemusement shaking his head. He held out his hand to stop the guards from coming after her again. Grabbing his arm Joan asked “what happened?”

  Jason again waved off the security guards who apparently wanted retribution. He angrily looked over Joan’s shoulder at them until they backed down and limped away. Heads all down the corridor were watching. His glance had them popping back to work. The desk clerk though leaned over the desk watching with his mouth open at everything he’d just witnessed.

  “A schizophrenic patient attacked her. She’d been beaten pretty bad by the time the orderlies pulled him off of her.” He looked at her waiting for her to explode. Instead to his surprise she seemed to slump before his eyes.

  “Where were the orderlies that they didn’t stop it FROM happening?” she asked.

  “They were at the door but Grace was speaking to him next to his bed.”

  “Why wasn’t he secured so he couldn’t harm her?”

  “He had been, Grace released the restraints, she didn’t feel he was a threat.” You could hear the annoyance in his voice. Shaking her head Joan went to go in the room. Jason stopped her a moment “prepare yourself, it looks bad.”

  Alarmed Joan shoved the door open. He was right it did look bad. Grace lay there with her eyes closed. Her blond hair was disheveled. Her right eye was bandaged and beneath the bandages bruising in brilliant reds could be seen. Her lip was cut. Her left wrist was in a cast. A monitor quietly beeped by her side as an IV dripped into her arm. She looked a mess. Joan went to her right side and took her hand in hers. At her touch Grace opened her one good eye. She was relieved to see Joan there. The last hour or so had been terrible. She tried to smile but her split lip was painful. Joan looked at her sympathetically. She held Graces hand and gave it a squeeze as she reached to straighten Graces hair.

  “Well, you’ve really done it this time haven’t you?” Joan joked.

  A slight nod and a blink in answer. Grace was trying hard not to smile at her. It hurt too much.

  A doctor that Joan hadn’t noticed in the room approached the bed. She looked up as she was finger combing Graces hair, nearly poking Graces one good eye.

  “Hello, I’m Doctor Macey, are you Grace’s partner?” he asked very solicitously. He’d heard of Joan through the hospital scuttlebutt. She was not someone that you messed with. She had too much money, too much power.

  Smiling she nodded. She asked what Graces condition was. He told her that Grace had a cracked cheekbone, a cracked wrist, and a broken rib. Joan glanced down at Graces rib cage but it was covered by the hospital gown. She’d had a bloody nose but it was not broke
n. A worried expression replaced the joking one she’d had. Her eyes looked into Graces one good one. Grace was trying to tell her that it was nothing but could only talk out of part of her mouth. Joan shushed her with a finger. Dr. Macey told Joan that Grace should stay overnight, Grace protested at this, but he continued saying that with careful care she could go home in a couple of hours but must remain in bed several days. Asking what she could and could not do Joan quietly interrogated him. He was glad to leave her when she was done with her thorough questions. Jason stood there and Joan asked him again about the patient who’d attacked Grace. He repeated what he’d told her, adding little. He told her he was restrained upstairs and would be treated there. He left her and Grace alone. Joan turned her worried eyes on Grace.

  “How do you feel?” Joan felt foolish asking.

  “How do I look?” Grace mumbled around her split lip. It was swelling horribly. She’d been punched not only in the mouth but repeatedly in the eye socket. They could remove that bandage in a day or two and she’d have to have an ophthalmologist examine it again. They didn’t foresee any permanent damage. Her ribs were taped. She had a cast on her arm enclosing her wrist.

  Grinning Joan answered “not your best. Are YOU okay?” she emphasized.

  Nodding, closing her good eye, she squeezed Joan’s hand in response.

  Three hours later after Grace had taken a nap, Joan took her home. She had pills and bandages for Graces care. They wheeled her out in a wheelchair to the Mercedes. The desk clerk had tried to have it towed but administration had refused to have it towed when Jason had mentioned to the powers that be who’s car was parked there and why. Grace couldn’t get dressed back into her blouse and jacket which were blood spattered anyway but she did wear her pants and scrubs. Joan refused to let her wear her heels. She looked a sight getting into the car. Joan drove her carefully home and got her slowly into bed.

  Joan kept her pretty drugged up for the next three days. Jason came by to check on her twice a day. Joan sponge bathed her, careful not to press on the bruises. She fed Grace chicken soup that she actually made herself. No can’s to everyone’s amazement. Grace laughed if this was what it took for Joan to cook... The soup was good too! Bite sized chunks of chicken breast, evenly sliced carrots and celery, noodles cut just so. She made a large pot of it and put it all in meal sized containers to last several days. She even had all the dishes in the dishwasher before Mrs. Richardson could see the mess she had made. She cleaned up the kitchen too. The only way Mrs. Richardson even knew something had been made was the amount of dishes in the washer and the additional containers of soup in the freezer. Joan gave her soup and toast, soup and crackers, soup and fruit, for her various meals. After three days she allowed Grace to get up and take a well needed shower. Grace had had sweating nightmares and the sponge baths hadn’t been enough. She’d been amazed though, this was a side of Joan she’d never thought to see. Yes, Joan had been a parent once to three little boys but she never acted like this nowadays. When Grace had come on to the scene the boys were men and didn’t need their mom for things like this. To be on the receiving end was quite pleasant but still unnerving. Joan kept her amused when she was awake, she had an uncanny ability to know when Grace was awaking. She kept reading materials convenient. She even read things to her. She helped Grace to the bathroom when necessary. She even helped her wash her hair and take that first shower with a bag over her wrist cast. Nothing but impersonal hands helped Grace.

  The guys and their wives came by. Kim came by with and without Bryan. Her ring flashed on her left hand and she told both Joan and Grace about the proposal. She thanked Joan for the design but Joan assured her that it was Bryan’s idea, her drawings rendered only from his descriptions. Kim no longer was in awe of this woman. She loved and respected both Joan and Grace. They were becoming like surrogate parents to her. Her own parents were far away and she’d written them, informing them of her engagement and that was all. These two women and the guys and their wives were more family than her own had ever been. They’d welcomed her into the family as their own. She worried sometimes if she deserved these wonderful people. Bryan made sure she knew she was loved by all but especially by him.

  Kim removed the bandage after 3 days from Graces eye. Some of the puffiness had gone down but the bruising was shocking. Black, blue, red, and green colors that would all fade to yellow in time made it appear worse than it was. Fortunately, the cracked cheekbone hadn’t caused any further damage. The tapes on her ribs were removed shortly thereafter. It was decided to leave the cast on for a few extra days as well when Joan took Grace in for a check up.

  Joan finally went in for her cat scan of her head. She still became dizzy occasionally and had headaches but overall she felt fine. The results though she dismissed and moved on from there to focus on Grace.

  During all this time Joan didn’t let on how she was feeling. Her concern over Graces well being was apparent. No one realized how truly angry she was though. When Grace was asleep Joan would go down to the basement and pound the hell out of the bag there for an hour at a time. She’d go until the sweat rolled down her body and she was exhausted. She’d quickly shower downstairs and change. Her nightly jogs she halted until Grace was creeping around the house. It was over a week until she felt well enough to go into work. Joan would have kept her home longer but Grace felt she needed to work with the schizophrenic man who had done this. Since Graces Jaguar was stick, Joan let Grace drive her Mercedes in that first day and Joan drove the Jag back to the chalet. Early in the afternoon Grace came home fatigued from her half day. She found Joan downstairs beating the hell out of the punching bag. Joan didn’t even hear the tone from the gate or the front door opening. She didn’t hear Graces conversation with Mrs. Richardson. She didn’t hear Grace come down the stairs and watch in alarm as Joan worked herself into a frenzy punching, high kicking, and beating at the bag and cushions in the workout area. She sat on the steps watching as Joan repeatedly kicked and punched at them. Her face was a mask of determination. A half an hour went by, Grace had no idea how long Joan had been at it. She watched as Joan slowed down her frenzy and finally stopped, her head hanging down, the sweat trickling down her body. Joan went into the shower without even noticing Grace sitting there. Grace went upstairs and waited in their bedroom for Joan to appear.

  Half an hour later Joan came upstairs and put her sweat soaked clothes in the sorter. There was enough for a load so she started one of the sweats and other clothes. She was dressed in a terry robe as she came into the bedroom. Her wet braids hanging down her back on the inside of the robe. She stopped surprised to see Grace sitting at the windows of their bedroom looking out into the woods. Grace turned when she heard Joan in the bedroom and their eyes met across the room.

  With a big smile Joan greeted her “Hello there! Your home early.” She gave no indication that she’d been doing anything other than her usual routine.

  Grace studied Joan for a second before replying “Yes, I thought a half day would be enough, I’m kinda tired already.” She’d been thinking about what she’d seen downstairs and what it meant. Joan always took her frustrations in her art or personal life out that way so she could calmly handle them when needed. This wasn’t normal though. The sweaty frenzy that Grace had observed had been more fanatical than she’d ever seen. Joan usually was very well controlled when she worked out. Occasionally she punched or kicked longer to alleviate something that was bothering her but this time it caused Grace some concern. She was hoping that Joan would confide in her about what was bothering her. Instead she watched as Joan went to her dresser for underwear, jeans, a blouse, and socks. She sat on the bench at the end of their bed and began to dress. Chatting with Grace she said perhaps Grace should go to bed to rest after she ate, keeping her tone neutral Grace agreed. Her body still ached in odd ways. The assault had been particularly brutal. With sudden realization it occurred to her that Joan’s behavior had altered since the night at the hospital. Whenever Grace had bee
n sick with a cold or flu, Joan had become overly concerned. This time though she’d really taken particular care of Grace. Grace had appreciated it but realized now that they hadn’t really discussed the incident. She tried to bring it up now but Joan, finishing up her dressing, brushed her off and left the room.

  Puzzled Grace followed her downstairs. Joan picked at the late lunch that Mrs. Richardson had put out for them. Grace ate lightly, a sandwich and some salad. She was tired, the morning had taken it out of her. Meeting with the patient had been difficult but she had to show him that despite what he had done to her she was still sticking with him. He didn’t remember, his other personality having done the damage to her. It would be a long road with him but she was willing to try. She had to try. Her own fears would choke her otherwise. She tried to explain some of this to Joan but she didn’t want to hear it and abruptly left the table. Grabbing a sweater jacket she held the door for D.O.G. as she went out on the deck and sat watching him chase a squirrel. Grace couldn’t eat another thing, she went and followed Joan out to the deck.

  “What the heck is wrong with you?” she asked, disregarding her doctor’s demeanor.

  Joan looked up surprised. Grace looked ghoulish with her multicolored skin around her left eye and her normal one glaring at her. Cocking an eyebrow in response she answered “what are you talking about?”

  Grace sat down in a chair opposite Joan’s. Leaning forward she took one of Joan’s hands into hers. She tried to explain to Joan about the attack and what happened. Joan tried to pull her hand away but Grace wouldn’t let go. Sighing in resignation, Joan held herself stiffly as she listened. Grace told her about the attack. She told how he punched her over and over, he stomped on her rib as the orderlies pulled him off of her. She told how they had rushed her to the ER fearing that the rib had punctured her lung. She told her fears and how she wanted to help this patient. She ended with telling Joan how much she appreciated her taking care of her. How much she loved her. How she had seen her today in her frenzy.