After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Taylor, still in scrubs, rushed into the waiting room. His urgency frightened them. He stopped just long enough to give them the good news they anxiously hoped for. He put in a stent, but her dad was otherwise in pretty good shape. Of course, after he left the hospital he needed to tote the line with his diet, lose a few pounds, exercise, and follow the doctor’s orders.
Yeah, right, she thought while Dr. Taylor discussed Dad’s wayward ways that were about to change. But Aimee nodded in affirmation while she listened. Aimee had lectured him a thousand times before. Maybe this was a wakeup call and he would behave from now on. Now that he had Dr. Morris in his life to fret over him, Aimee could relax a bit and quit griping so much. Dr. Morris could take up the slack. Maybe he would listen to her better than he had with Aimee. At least he would have someone to watch over him when Aimee moved off to Eugene this summer.
Dr. Taylor raced through his update, answered questions, and then flew off to the next patient. Both of them sighed greatly together. Dr. Morris touched Aimee's shoulder, and with steadfast conviction in her voice, she tried to reassure Aimee. “I promise you I’ll take good care of Mike after you leave for school this summer. You don’t need to worry about a thing. Okay?”
Aimee's voice was mixed with gravel when she tried to answer. All she could get out was a rocky squeak. “Okay…thank you, Dr. Morris.” Dr. Morris's smile was genuine. Suddenly Dr. Morris dropped her hand when she spotted Aimee's father being wheeled down the hall towards them on his way to his new room on the floor. He grinned broadly when he saw his two women waiting.
He sleepily greeted, “Hey, sweethearts.”
“Hi,” they both answered, looked at each other, and chuckled. Aimee guessed she was getting used to the fact she was no longer Dad’s only girl in his life.
All day Dr. Morris and Aimee took turns vigilantly watching over Dad while he slept and woke and slept and woke. Finally around four in the afternoon, he opened his eyes and stayed awake, the wacky medicine finally drained completely from his body. He was in an exceptionally chipper mood, back to his normal, obnoxious self, giving the nurses grief and making wisecracks with anyone who would listen.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to wait a few more years before you can cash in on my big life insurance policy,” he kidded while Aimee helped him get out of bed to go to the restroom.
“Geez, Dad, and I had a new Mercedes all picked out and ready to order. Seriously, you have to start taking care of yourself. I really do want you around to walk me down the aisle, and give my kids horsey rides on your knee like you did when I was little.”
Dad looked at Aimee seriously and changed his usual sarcastic tone. “I promise, Aimee, I’ll change. You won’t have to worry about me. I’m going to be so damn healthy you’ll wish I would cheat once in a while. No more pizza…no more ice cream…no more chicken fried steak…”
Aimee interrupted, “And no more beer, right?”
Dad smiled sheepishly. “Well, maybe a glass of red wine once in a while, okay? Doc says it’s all right.”
“I guess. One glass once in a while won’t hurt,” Aimee replied, crossing her arms and forging her eyebrows. Dad grinned, then kissed her cheek and shuffled into the restroom. She turned around and shrugged her shoulders at Dr. Morris. “Maybe he’ll mind this time.”
After Dad got back into bed, Aimee decided she better get home. Zonker would need to go out, and Aimee was feeling the effects of a very long, stressful day. Actually, the past few days had completely wiped her out. She kissed Dad, hugged Dr. Morris, and grabbed her backpack and the new magazine she had bought in the gift shop.
Dad was busy scarfing down his dinner, pretending the tasteless, skinned chicken breast with marinara sauce and whole wheat spaghetti was as yummy as his favorite dish; spicy fried chicken with cream gravy and mash potatoes. He hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before. In between ravenous bites, he stopped long enough to bid Aimee good-bye.
“Tell Dylan hello. And remind him that he promised me to watch out for you.”
“Okay, Dad. Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love ya.”
“Love you, too, Amos.”
On her way out the door, the phone rang. Dr. Morris answered it and Aimee heard her greet James. She grimaced. She hadn’t talked to James since their little squabble the day before. Aimee supposed she would have to give in first, as usual, and jotted down a mental note to call him later to repair whatever damage remained.
Dylan was already waiting in the driveway when she eased her dad’s pickup behind his FJ. He was kicked back in his seat, his earbuds stuffed in. Aimee crept up along the side of his door, reached in and placed her hand on his shoulder. He jumped, instantly yanking out the earbuds.
“Hey,” he shouted, “you scared the hell out of me!”
Aimee giggled. “Sorry. I thought you saw me pull up. What’s going on?”
“Not much. Just chillin’ while I waited for you. I couldn’t wait until later to come over.” His lips turned into a grin as he grabbed his keys from the dash. Within a second he was out of his SUV, then quickly slid Aimee's backpack from her shoulder to his, and had her hand while they cruised up the sidewalk. “You look tired.”
Aimee nodded.
“So, how’s your dad?”
“Good. No great, actually. Only one stent needed. Dr. Taylor said his prognosis is good if he quits self-destructing.”
“That’s cool. I know you'll feel better when he gets out of there. It’s been pretty rough the past couple of days, huh?” He tenderly raked a strand of hair out of Aimee's eyes, then took her keys and unlocked the front door. Always the gentleman.
She gave a tiny smile, then breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, but it’ll get better soon, I hope.”
Dylan opened the door and Zonker eagerly jumped up on Aimee's leg, his little stump wagging furiously. “Hey there, Z Boy,” Aimee greeted half-heartedly. Zonker turned and darted for the backdoor. Dylan dropped the backpack onto the recliner and continued towards the utility room to let him out. Aimee dropped down heavily onto the couch, kicked off her flip flops, and propped her feet up on the coffee table. The pain in her brain was becoming brutal, but she needed to keep up the act. Within a minute Dylan and Zonker were back. Zonker leaped up on the couch and plopped down next to her legs. Dylan was right behind toting a couple glasses of water and two glossy red apples.
“Here,” he said setting their treats on the coffee table, “maybe this will help perk you up.” Like Zonker, he plopped down on the couch on the other side of Aimee. He slid his arm over her shoulders, and his touch caused a current to surge through her. Her mind was no longer on Dad or the awful pounding in her head. Aimee whipped around and crawled over his lap, clenched two fists full of his shirt into her hands, and then molded into him. Her lips paused about an inch from his lips. Zonker studied them for a second and quickly disappeared into Aimee's bedroom.
“Thanks, but this is what I reeeally need to make me feel better. Dad wanted me to remind you that you promised to take care of me.”
“I don't think this is what he meant, Aimee.”
Aimee smirked, then eased her lips into his without a protest. He hesitated only a second before his hands located her hips and continued up her back under her shirt. After a very steamy kiss, he reluctantly ripped his lips away and stared intently into Aimee's eyes. She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and yanked it up and over her head, exposing her pale tummy and white lacy bra. Her breaths were now in sync with the throbbing in her head, but she didn’t stop. Aimee locked her lips back to his, and immediately their tongues played together.
Aimee snatched his shirt and slid it over his head and took in the beauty. His body was rippled, yet soft to touch. Their bodies fused instantly. Without warning, he lifted Aimee up off the couch like she was a doll. She twisted her legs around his waist, tethered her arms around his neck, and laughed.
“Dylan, don’t drop me! Where are we going?”
“Somewhere more comfortable.” In a flash they were in her bedroom, and their bodies falling together onto the bed. Aimee landed first, and Dylan landed next to her. They giggled while they scooted together to get completely on the bed. Zonker leaped down and stormed out disgusted by their intrusion.
“You pissed off my dog,” Aimee teased in between kisses.
“Sorry, he’ll get over it.” Dylan's eyes seared into hers. He reached up and rubbed his thumb tenderly across her cheek, and then grazed his hand down her shoulder to her arm and stopped. She felt a warm tingle from her head down to her toes. Nothing was going to stop them this time!
But Zonker started barking at the front window, and they broke their embrace and looked at each other with disbelief.
“What now?!” Aimee hissed while she popped up off the bed and flew to the bedroom window. She barely eased up one slat of the blinds and peeked out.
Dylan impatiently asked, “Who is it?”
“Not sure. Can’t really see the driver, but it looks like a man with black hair in a gray sedan.” Aimee dropped the blind, frowned at Dylan, then headed for the den to get her shirt. Dylan followed right behind. She slid her shirt back on, tossed Dylan his shirt, peeked into the hall mirror, combed her fingers quickly through her hair, peered through the small stain glass window on the door, then tugged open the front door right before the visitor rang the bell.
Dylan muttered under his breath, “So that’s how you do it.” Aimee threw Dylan a smug look, and then turned back to greet the intruder.
“Good afternoon, Miss Schmidt,” the man greeted.
“Hello Detective Woolsey. How are you?” she asked as soon as Aimee recognized the officer standing at the threshold. She forced politeness into her voice, still miffed his unannounced visit had interrupted them. “Do you want to come in?”
“Is Mike here?” he asked, then he opened the glass storm door and halfway stepped into the hallway. He acknowledged Dylan behind Aimee.
Dylan quickly extended his hand towards Detective Woolsey. “Good afternoon, sir, Dylan…Dylan Townsend.”
“Dylan, good afternoon, Levi Woolsey. I’m glad you’re here, too. It’ll save me some time later. I can visit with both of you about the incident on Saturday.” He finished shaking Dylan’s hand, then started following them into the den. Zonker sniffed at the visitor’s shoes, decided he must be okay, and headed back to the bedroom.
“Come on in and sit down,” Aimee offered before reaching down to the floor and tossing the end pillows back up on the couch. Dylan set the backpack on the floor before he dropped into the recliner. Aimee sat down in the rocker and waited for Detective Woolsey to begin. First he sat down on the edge of the couch, pulled out a little pad balancing it on his leg, and started to write down notes. He fingered some glasses from his shirt pocket and slid them on. Just like Dad, he peered over the frames when he started talking.
“So, Aimee…” he continued with business-like formality in his voice.
“Yes, sir?” she answered, now feeling more nervous than ticked by his visit.
“Where did you say your dad was? I see his truck in the driveway.”
“I didn’t say, but he’s not here. He’s in the hospital,” Aimee said after clearing her throat. “He had a heart attack this weekend, and they put a stent in today. But he’s doing much better.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about his heart attack. Mike’s a great guy. Be sure to tell Mike I said hello and hope he gets back on his feet soon,” replied Detective Woolsey. He continued to peer over his glasses when he spoke.
“I will.”
“Anyway, after Dylan and his parents’ statements yesterday, I got pulled in because I was informed the case involved you…”
“So, do you think it might have something to do with my recent accident or our break-in?”
“Well, considering the fact your initials were scratched into the paint, and there have been other occurrences of criminal intent towards you, we want to make sure we uncover all of the possible facts before we push forward.”
Dylan jumped in with his own questioning. “Do you think whoever did this to Paul’s car might be the same sonofabitch who ran Aimee off the road?”
“Not sure, but that’s why I’m here. I’m trying to gather everything I need to help solve these cases. One thing for sure, this was more than just random vandalism.” Detective Woolsey pushed his glasses up his nose and jotted down a few notes onto his pad.
He continued his questioning for a half hour. On his way out, Detective Woolsey asked Aimee again to give her dad his best. They watched on the porch while he pulled away from the curb, then they went back into the house. Aimee shut the door and leaned against it. She clamped her eyes shut. The pain was brutal now behind her eyeballs. She knew the journey was close. She needed to figure out how to slip away from Dylan without raising any suspicion.
Dylan stopped when he reached the end of the entry and realized Aimee wasn’t following. He turned around. “You okay?” he asked.
She hesitated for a few seconds, opened her eyes, and stared at him. He started back towards her. “No…no, I don’t feel so well. I think the stress has me totally rattled. My friggin’ head is killing me.” The look on her face must have instantly convinced him just how bad she hurt.
“You don’t look so well. Your eyes are bright red. Let me get you something for your headache. Why don't you go lay down.” He quickly headed for the kitchen.
Without a word, Aimee obeyed. Before long she heard his footsteps, and propped up on one elbow, chugged the pills he handed her, and then chased them with a big swig of water. Aimee gave the glass back to Dylan and he set it on the desk. He crawled gently onto the bed and laid down next to her. She knew the medicine wouldn’t help this headache, but she whispered weakly, “Thank you. You do take good care of me. I love you so much.”
“I love you more,” Dylan said as he rested his head next to hers on the pillow.
Aimee closed her eyes. Within a minute she felt Dylan’s hand slip slowly off her stomach and his breathing shift from its normal pattern to first gear. Slowly, covertly, Aimee eased out of bed, covered him with a blanket, and tiptoed out of the room. She needed to get away from Dylan before her journey took her away in front of him. She barely had enough time to get into the bathroom and lock the door before it happened. The all too familiar tunnel swallowed her like a hungry beast.
Just like most of her journeys, this one took her through time cocooned tightly in dark pain. Fractions of a second seemed to stretch out endlessly while she traveled through the icy blackness. Aimee heard herself begging for the end. It didn’t matter if it was the end of the tortuous tomb or the ultimate emphatic end. The relief of exiting the tunnel was worth any type of ending. Within seconds it was over.
This time was like the rest. She landed into another place dazed, but alive. Fortunately, her arrival was uneventful. She didn’t know how much more damage her body could endure. After peeling herself off the ground, Aimee immediately tried to assess where she was. Damp blackness shrouded everything. It was impossible to see. The sweet scent of pines and the earthy smell of the woods after a rain infiltrated her nostrils, but she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. The air felt as wet as the dirt under her. Foliage surrounded her, and leaves and pine needles stuck to her clothes. Aimee shifted slightly and a gangly limb lashed her face knocking her off balance and backwards before she caught her footing. Too frightened to stay down, she ejected back up like a jack-in-a-box and whipped around searching for the limb that had slapped her down. She pawed the hair out of her face and froze solid in the pitch blackness straining to hear anything that might clue her where she was. Nothing but the sound of her heavy breathing filled the air.
Even though Aimee had no idea where she was or where she needed to go, the question that perplexed her more was why she got sent into the middle of a forest in the middle of the night? But she knew the answer would come soon. It always did. And Aimee ha
d learned fast from the missions she had been assigned the past few months that it didn’t matter how long it took or how much she pleaded to go home, she wasn’t returning until she accomplished what she was sent to do; help someone in trouble. So Aimee figured she better suck up her fear and get on with it.
Only swallowing the fear was easier said than done. Frigid air swirled around her. It felt evil. The stillness felt even more ominous. Even in the middle of a forest she had never experienced such quiet. No animals stirred. No trees rustled. She could hear her heart thumping. For a long moment Aimee listened to its beating drowning out the sound of nothingness and tried desperately to reign in her fear and figure out which direction to start groping her way towards.
At long last, the fear started to fade and she unfroze from the spot she was stuck to. Aimee dropped to all fours and blindly crawled through the vegetated labyrinth. The heavy branches pricked at her bare arms, but she couldn’t afford to stop. Out of nowhere, a dewy web glued itself to her head and Aimee screamed and clawed at her hair to get the sticky strings and anything alive attached to it off. After a minute she could feel the air slither down her throat again so she got back up and started edging slowly through the thick timber. Aimee took a step and her foot tangled in a fallen limb. Head first she tumbled over the limb and instinctively stuck out her arms to break the fall. She landed into a huge mound of loose dirt and her arms disappeared into newly turned earth. Aimee's hands hit something. The surface felt cold and smooth. It took only a fraction of a second and Aimee knew unequivocally what was buried in the loose dirt.
Hands...and the fingers twitched!
Aimee screamed, but terror paralyzed her and stifled the sound deep inside her chest. She fought to free herself. The ground was like quicksand, the harder she struggled, the deeper she sunk. But after several seconds, she escaped the fresh grave. Dirt masked her face, hair, and stuck to anything uncovered by clothing. She couldn’t catch her breath. She had to flee as fast as possible so she backpedaled on all fours until she crashed into a massive tree trunk. Aimee's backside instantly glued to it. She gasped for air. The icy, bitter darkness was choking the life out of her, but she couldn’t see to get away. The vegetation’s thick drapery trapped her inside its tentacles with a buried body only a few feet away!
The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted Page 29
