by JLee Meyer
“Laurel, I’m opening the door now, don’t be afraid.”
She felt foolish for a moment, wondering if she was mistaken and there was a stray cat trapped in the room making that noise. They’d caught a few since the renovations began and had managed to find homes for them. Another thought filled her with dread. Maybe Laurel was in there and her partner was holding her at gunpoint. What should she do?
Terror started in her heart and radiated through her body. She opened her cell phone, keyed it to Sika’s number, set it to intercom, and put it down on the floor. “Laurel, I’m coming in. It’s me, Stef. Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.”
Cautiously, she opened the door and flipped the light switch. At first glance the room seemed empty, then she heard the sound again, coming from the bathtub. The old shower curtain was moldy and half torn, but pulling it back revealed Laurel, on her knees and curled in a ball, rocking. Dropping beside the tub, Stef gently put a hand on Laurel’s shoulder and felt her shrink back.
“Don’t.” Laurel’s voice shook. “Please. Go away.”
Stef sat back on her heels, trying to catch her breath. There was no choice here. Trying again, she placed her hand on the trembling shoulder and said, “I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you. I’m calling the paramedics.”
“No. I’m fine. Just help me up.”
“You shouldn’t move.”
But Laurel was trying to stand. Stef helped ease her over to sit on the toilet seat lid. Her face was swollen and she was going to have at least one black eye. Her lip was split. From the huddled position she was in, Stef would bet she’d been kicked in the ribs again.
“Who did this?” She’d instantly assumed the assailant was Rochelle Jacobs, but it was possible that Laurel was the victim of a random act of violence.
Laurel whispered something in reply, but Stef couldn’t make out her words. The only thing she heard was, “I should have known better.”
“So, it was Rochelle?”
“I can’t talk right now,” Laurel said.
Her voice was so thin, Stef could tell she was only just able to hold herself together. Treading carefully, she asked, “Can you walk?” When she nodded, Stef said, “We’re going to my room. There’s no place to lie down in here.”
Just then Sika appeared at the door, out of breath. She took one look at Laurel and claimed the other side of her. They slowly made their way to Stef’s room and got Laurel seated on the couch.
Sika asked, “When did this happen, Laurel?” There was no judgment in her voice, only compassion.
“A few hours ago.” Laurel’s speech was somewhat distorted because of her lip. “She’s been angry about what happened when she came here last week. We had a fight about it after work yesterday.”
“I’m sorry.” Stef felt terrible. Maybe she should have given in and just let the woman take all the documents. The project was nothing compared with Laurel’s safety.
“Not your fault,” Laurel said. “She came home early and found me packing my bags. She was drunk. It was the worst I’ve ever seen. I told her I was leaving her. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
The effort it took to speak those words seemed to sap what strength Laurel had. She fell silent. Watching her, Stef felt so helpless. And so full of rage. She got a blanket and covered Laurel, then gingerly sat next to her.
Sika had her phone open. “You need a doctor, child.”
“No, no. Please. No.” Laurel reached for Stef’s hand.
She felt so fragile, Stef had to school herself to not envelop her in a hug. Then she fought not to cry. This was no time to be blubbering like a wimp. She listened to Sika talking on the phone and deduced that she was discussing the situation with Denny.
When she ended the call, she said, “Jock’s coming down to see if she can help. She was a paramedic for a few years.”
That was news to Stef.
When Jock and Denny arrived, Jock’s face was set in a professional mask. She quickly checked for anything broken or bleeding, asking questions as she worked. She listened to Laurel’s breathing and heart, using a stethoscope that materialized out of—where? Her tool belt? Then she gently palpated her abdomen. Laurel sucked in air against the pain but was silent. Stef wondered if she’d been silent during the beating, too.
“I think you’re battered but not broken,” Jock concluded. “But we should get you to an emergency room to make sure, and to document this.” After a long hesitation, she said, “You should file charges, Laurel.”
Shaking her head, Laurel replied, “I won’t file charges. It could mean her career.”
Stef had had enough. “Laurel, you need to be checked out. Jock thinks you’re okay but they’ll take films to make sure. If anything were to happen, we’d all feel terrible, especially Jock. So while you’re taking care of your abuser’s career, why don’t you take care of your friends, too.” Shocked at the harshness of her tone, she quietly added, “You don’t have to file charges if you don’t want to.”
All eyes were on Laurel, who was staring at Stef, one eye puffing closed. “You’re right. Let’s go.” She struggled to stand and Denny and Jock had her upright in seconds.
“We’ll all go.” Denny was checking for her keys.
“No. I’ll take her,” Stef said. “You all have been great. Den, can you bring my car around? Jock, would you go with her, it’s getting late.”
The hotel had a garage, but it was still closed, housing only construction equipment and vehicles. They had to park in a nearby public lot until the hotel was completed. Denny could take care of herself, but Stef didn’t feel like tempting fate at this time of the night.
Jock said, “Just what I was planning to do.”
Sika was silent until Jock and Denny left, then she touched Laurel’s arm. “You’ll not go back there, Laurel. Not without an escort. I’ll find some clothes for you to wear tomorrow. Call and cancel your classes for the week. You’ll stay with me or with Stefanie.”
Laurel mumbled, “Thank you for your kindness.”
Stef squeezed the small hand in her own. “Laurel, that’s what friends are for. We can count on each other in the bad times.”
With a sob of despair, Laurel said, “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. She’ll know I’m here. I don’t want to cause a problem.”
“Let me tell you something.” Stef kept her voice soft and even despite the temper flaring deep inside. “If Rochelle Jacobs shows her face in this building, there won’t be a problem. There’ll be blood. Hers.”
Laurel looked startled and Sika concerned.
“Okay,” Stef conceded, “I’m getting carried away. Let’s just say she wouldn’t dare.”
*
The emergency room was predictably busy, but Laurel was treated and discharged within three hours. They hadn’t spoken much, but she’d held Stef’s hand almost the entire time. Initially, Laurel went with the nurse by herself but hesitated after a few steps. Stef was instantly at her side and stayed with her during the exam. Their only separation was when films were taken of her ribs.
She left with prescriptions for mild painkillers and her abdomen wrapped. Nothing was broken but she was badly bruised and had some muscle strains and tears. Her lip would heal with a few butterfly sutures. Laurel surrendered Stef’s hand to let her drive. Huddled in the passenger seat, she was gazing out the window at the quiet streets, seeming to doze.
“I’m going to park in front of the hotel and get you inside, then take the car to the garage. I’ll call Sika.” Stef reached for her cell when she felt Laurel’s hand on her thigh.
“No, I’ll come with you to the garage. It’s too late and might not be safe. Two are better than one.”
Stef wasn’t sure that two women, one of whom was walking like a ninety-year-old and the other trying to help her, didn’t present a better target, but the look on Laurel’s battered face kept her from saying so. “Okay, thanks.”
They parked in one of the spots reserved for those who
paid monthly. It was well lit and patrolled. The elevator to street level smelled of urine and disinfectant. The street was a bit steep, but it was only a block until they reached the hotel. Stef knew Laurel was laboring but she didn’t complain, only hesitating once in a while to catch her breath.
Once inside the lobby, they stopped. Stef wasn’t sure what to do next. She wanted Laurel to stay with her, but Sika had offered, too, and Laurel might feel more comfortable there. “Laurel, let’s go to my rooms and I’ll call Sika. She lives close by and I can run you over there later.”
She felt guilty that she hadn’t done that before she parked. Laurel was the one who was out of it, not her. She should have insisted on taking her to Sika’s, but she couldn’t bear to be parted from her. That was why she hadn’t argued when Laurel wanted to escort her from the garage.
Hastily, she said, “Or if you wish, I could take you there right now. I can go back and get the car.”
“No.” Laurel’s voice fractured. Every breath was obviously a strain. “I’ll stay here with you, if that’s okay.” Still no eye contact.
Stef knew this was not the time to be hopping around celebrating, so she concentrated on not grinning like an idiot. “Yes. I mean, of course, if that’s what you want.” Laurel swayed and Stef quickly forgot her victory. She took Laurel’s arm. “Let’s get the elevator.”
“I hope it smells better than the last one.” The attempt at humor made Stef feel better immediately.
“I’m having a talk with Jock about her subcontractors if it doesn’t.”
Laurel seemed to not be able to move forward, so Stef eased her arm around her waist, and together they made the final trek to the third floor. Settling Laurel into the bathroom, just along the hallway from the bedroom, Stef gave her a sleep shirt and closed the door. She was exhausted and had to be up early the next day.
After a few minutes of quickly changing her sheets and straightening her place in honor of her guest, she heard the bathroom door open. Walking down the short hall, she found Laurel standing in the doorway, holding the shirt, probably uncertain as to what to do next.
Stef led her to the bedroom, helped her into the sleep shirt, pulled back the covers, and tucked her in. Laurel seemed deeply asleep almost as soon as her body hit the bed. Smiling, Stef kissed her forehead and then both eyes. She shed her clothes and visited the bathroom herself, then slipped on some flannel sweats and grabbed a pillow and blanket from the closet, aiming for the couch. Fatigue robbed her of even the momentary pleasure of thinking of Laurel in her bed. She was asleep in minutes.
Chapter Twelve
Laurel stirred, awakened from her drug and exhaustion-induced sleep by a noise in the other room. Pain forced her to move gingerly as she rolled to her back to listen.
Where am I? She felt like she was swimming against a strong current to make sense of her surroundings. Slowly the events of the past few days became crystal clear. The giddy feeling of freedom the day she’d decided to pack up and leave, breezing through her classes, laughing with the students, all the while making plans to go apartment hunting, maybe even move from Berkeley to San Francisco. The intense relief after she told Rochelle she was leaving.
She remembered humming to herself as she was packing her bags, her heart soaring with hope. She couldn’t wait to see Stef so she could share the good news. The familiar tread in the hallway had made her freeze in shock. Terror constricted her chest when Rochelle lurched into view. She had leaned on the door frame and regarded Laurel with raw hatred.
Closing the door quietly, she accused Laurel of unfaithfulness, of screwing Stef. She told her what an ungrateful, lying, cheating partner she was. That it was no wonder she drank, with such a worthless piece of shit to come home to. Laurel knew better than to argue. She’d learned to stay still and quiet, and hope Rochelle would run out of steam or go searching for another drink. But Rochelle had only gathered momentum, and the list of transgressions grew until Laurel was responsible for everything wrong with Rochelle’s life.
She was alarmed at first, then afraid. She’d tried to think of an escape plan. Maybe she could tip Rochelle over and skirt past her to the door. Run from the house without her packed bags. It didn’t matter if she had to leave everything behind.
Rochelle must have seen her eyes darting or something, because she was on her in the next instant, plowing through the piles of folded clothing and sending garments flying. Absurdly, Laurel tried to reach for them. The next thing she remembered she was face down on the floor and Rochelle was standing over her.
“Cunt. This is all your fault.”
Laurel had stayed down, trying to disappear, but she couldn’t avoid the blows. When Rochelle finally stepped back, her chest was heaving from the effort of the beating. Laurel couldn’t move at that moment; she was lucky she was breathing. She kept her eyes closed and it wasn’t until she heard the room door click shut that the adrenaline kicked in and she crawled down to the guest room and locked herself in. She’d waited there until the house was silent. Rochelle would expect her to hide, as she always did, too ashamed to face the world. Instead, Laurel had crept out of the house to her car, and driven away knowing she would never go back.
She winced over a smile. Her lip reminded her there was not much to smile about. She’d driven to the hotel in a daze and made it to the project room without being seen. She recalled leaning against the bathroom door and then being overwhelmed with the need to get into the bathtub. Literally inching her way there around the blinding pain in her ribs, she knew it would be safe because when she was a child her parents always said if there was a tornado, get in the bathtub. That’s how to protect yourself.
Laurel shifted position, trying to get comfortable. Glancing around, she realized she was in Stef’s bedroom. The other side of the bed looked undisturbed. She wondered where Stef had slept. Sounds from the next room came into focus. Someone was crying, she was sure of it. Stef?
Moving to get out of the bed, she realized she was wearing a big T-shirt over an Ace bandage and nothing else. Her cheeks warmed as she thought about Stef undressing her when they got back from the hospital last night. She cast around for something to put on and spotted some flannel pajama bottoms neatly folded on a chair a few feet away. Slowly making it to the chair, she was grateful beyond measure for the snug wrap around her ribs, and had to sit to get the pants on. It took another few minutes of agony to stand, clutching the waistband to make sure the pants came with her.
She peered into the living area to see Stef, in the corner of the sofa, hands covering her face, crying. She hesitated, not wanting to embarrass her rescuer. After a few tentative steps into the room the floorboard creaked and Stef looked up. Their eyes met briefly before Stef scrubbed her face with her hands and stood.
“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
Laurel was taken aback. Were the tears for her? Stef had so many responsibilities yet here she was, offering comfort to Laurel. She reached for Stef but pain stopped her from arriving at her destination. Gasping, she could only manage, “Could I sit on the couch with you?”
“Yes, of course.” Stef shuffled over to make room.
Once settled, Laurel gazed deeply into the soft brown eyes of her hero. “What’s happened? Why are you crying?”
Instantly averting her head, Stef began, “Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. Just stress.”
Laurel gently pressed her hand on Stef’s arm. “Stefanie, I know how difficult it is to accept help and comfort from someone, anyone. I had that experience last night. I thought, perhaps, you might not mind my offer of friendship. Think of it as my way of repaying your kindness in some small way. How’s that?”
Giving her a rueful grin, Stef took a big breath and shuddered as she let it go. “You may have gathered that I come from a wealthy family of hoteliers. What you might not know is that I split from my family several years ago. Well, that’s not exactly true. I’ve been at odds with them since I came out, in college. Daddy doesn’t approve
.”
Laurel nodded, not wanting to interfere with the most personal information she’d heard about Stef since they met. She longed to sit back and be supported by the couch, but that would have to wait.
“Long, boring story. Anyway, I worked in the family business. but when it was made clear that I wouldn’t be able to advance much further than some fluff vice president in charge of doilies, I quit. Denny, Sika, and I searched and saved for years to find this place and sank every dime into it.”
Laurel said, “Then that contractor betrayed you.”
The pain was getting more difficult to ignore. Her back muscles were starting to spasm with the effort to compensate for the injured abdominal muscles.
“Here, let me help you lie down.” Stef must have noticed.
“Thank you. May I use your lap for a pillow?” Laurel had no idea if this was flirting, but she couldn’t think of a more comfortable place in the world to rest her head.
Hesitating only a moment, Stef grinned and murmured, “Of course.”
She continued to spill the whole story about how she came to buy the hotel and how important the project was to her. Laurel reveled in the comfort of her voice and her soft touch. She must have dozed off because when she next opened her eyes, the room felt cool and neither of them had moved.
“You awake?” She whispered, not really wanting to break the connection.
“Yes. Just…enjoying.”
“I know. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been so peaceful. Stef?”
“Uh-huh.” The low rumble of her voice in the fading light of late afternoon was sensual, that was the only word that came to mind.
“I’m afraid I have to break the spell. I can’t get up by myself and I really need to use the facilities. I’m so sorry.”
Chuckling, Stef said, “You’ve read my mind. Let me help you, then we’ll figure out something to eat.”
