Damaged Trust

by Amanda Carpenter

  “Hi, yourself,” she retorted, somewhat weakly.

  “We’re going to switch vehicles now,” he told her.

  “You’ll be more comfortable with a little more room.” With that, he opened the cab door and slid out his long legs, keeping a fine hold on Carrie the whole time. She didn’t even try a pretence of objection but merely closed her eyes and put her head back on his shoulder with a sigh. Every move that Gabe made, no matter how careful he tried to be, sent waves of pain along her injured side.

  “Am I hurting you very much?” Gabe asked quickly, feeling her tense up involuntarily.

  She tried to smile and pass it off. “Oh, it really isn’t too bad,” she said, attempting lightness. “Just twinges now and then.”

  Steven opened the door to the other truck for Gabe and stepped out of the way so that he could put Carrie very carefully on to the seat. As soon as he had done so, Gabe started to uncover her, pulling the blanket off of her. She protested.

  “Gabe, don’t! It’s so cold.” She shivered.

  “You need dry clothes on,” he told her. “I’ll help you get out of the wet shorts and shirt and you can put on the dry pair you brought.” She had brought along an extra change of clothing on Gabe’s advice, in addition to the clothes she wore over her swimsuit.

  Her teeth started to chatter. “As long as we hurry,” she stammered. “I feel as if I’m sitting on a block of ice!”

  Gabe very gently started to help her unbutton her shirt, eventually brushing aside her nearly useless fingers and doing it all himself. As he helped her shrug out of the top, he jerked to a stop for a moment at the sight of her back and side.

  “Good God!” he muttered. He took a deep breath. “Carrie, can you feel this?” He touched the grazes and bruises on her back and pressed carefully with the tips of his fingers. The flesh felt very cold to him.

  “N-not really,” she replied, wincing once or twice. “It doesn’t hurt all that badly on the surface. It’s deep inside where it hurts the most.”

  Gabe helped her get on her loose and dry top, then he asked her to stand up for a moment if she could, so that he could slide her wet shorts down. This was done quickly while Carrie clutched the door of the truck to stay upright. Then he guided her feet, one at a time, into her clean shorts and pulled them carefully over her legs, where dark bruises were beginning to show.

  He left her to fasten her shorts while he went over to Ralf and Steven, who were pretending to be busy near the back of the other truck. As they saw him come around the corner of the truck, they stopped.

  Steven asked, “How’s she feeling?” He sounded uncomfortable.

  Gabe said shortly, “I’m going to take her to hospital to get some X-rays taken of her ribs. She took a worse beating than I realised, and her back is one big bruise. Even her legs are bruised.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. Steven asked, “Do you think she might have a cracked rib or two?”

  “It’s very possible. She said it hurts the most in deep. I don’t know, she might have only bruised the ribs, but I don’t think we should take the chance,” he replied, running a hand through his hair.

  “Do you know the way to the hospital?” Ralf asked. “We can lead the way, and while Carrie is being X-rayed, we can call home to tell Mom and Emma to get her bed ready.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Gabe. “Are you about ready to leave?”

  Their reply was an affirmative, and Gabe went back to the pick-up as Steven and Ralf climbed into their truck. Carrie was fast asleep in the front seat, sprawled anyhow, half in and half out of the blanket. Gabe shrugged on a clean pair of shorts and a dry shirt over his damp swimsuit, then slid on a pair of tennis shoes. Then he quietly shut Carrie’s door and slid into the driver’s seat after lifting her head and carefully settling her back on his right thigh for a pillow. Then he started the motor.

  She woke up when she felt someone slip two arms under her and lift her out of the seat. She looked around hazily. It was Gabe, large and amazingly comforting, and he carried her towards a building. Carrie got a foggy impression of a bustling and starched efficiency.

  “This is not home,” she told him quite lucidly.

  He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that she felt come from his chest. “No, it’s a hospital. You’re going to get your poor ribs and back looked at.”

  Carrie shook her head. “Ridiculous,” she mumbled. “I’m perfectly all right. Half-drowned, but okay. Just give me a month. Month in bed and I’ll—er—be all right.”

  Gabe had to laugh again. He put his lips briefly on her head. “Just shut up, will you?”

  There was a period of time when Carrie simply drifted along in a nice, impenetrable fog. Then she became aware of someone helping her off with her clothes and a man in a white coat who began to poke her side and back with his fingers. At that she cried, quietly and only a little bit, sniffing and wiping her eyes with trembling fingers.

  Then she was wheeled somewhere, brought back, her grazes dressed, given an injection, and helped back into her clothes. The injection seemed to make things even more foggy, and by that time Carrie was quite beyond caring about anything. People talked above her head in deep voices, one that she recognized as Gabe, and the other was the man in the white coat. Then she was taken to the truck in a wheelchair—in which she fell asleep—and afterwards, lifted into the cab. She looked up once, saw Gabe’s lean and dark face above her, reached up with one hand and touched his cheek, then fell asleep again.

  Cool air rushed in and around her and she opened her eyes. It was dark outside and Gabe was once more carrying her, this time to her front door. There was a bustle and Steven hurried forward to open the front door. Gabe strode in, hesitated for a moment, then headed for the stairs.

  The sudden light made Carrie blink, bringing her fully to her senses. Someone exclaimed, and Emma bustled forward. “Carrie, honey! And what a time to get company, too! Oh, Janet, Carrie’s here!”

  Company? she puzzled. Did she mean Gabe? Her eyes swiveled to Gabe’s face, and she saw his expression go blank. Then she turned her head back around. Hurrying down the hall from the large living room was her mother and someone right on her heels. Carrie’s eyes widened and she gave a gasp. Good lord! Neil! What was he doing here, of all places? Her mouth formed a round little “O”.

  Neil, slim and light-haired, hurried forward and brushed past Janet. “Carrie, darling!” he exclaimed, sounding shocked. “What’s happened? Oh, love, it’s so good to see you!”

  It was absolutely too much. The whole day and the enormity of what had happened hit Carrie like a ton of bricks. She took one horrified look at Neil, looked up at Gabe’s hardening face, put her head into the curve of Gabe’s neck and shoulder, and cried.

  Gabe brushed past Neil and headed up the stairs with Janet and Emma following. He hesitated at the top. “Which way is her room?” he asked harshly.

  Janet pointed to a door, and Gabe strode on into the room, putting her on the bed. He started to straighten, stopped, bent down and cupped her cheek for an instant. “I’ll call,” he promised. His face was once again expressionless and Carrie stared up, frightened for some reason.

  “Gabe, don’t go yet, please…” she pleaded. He shook his head and pulled his hand away, then left.

  Janet helped her get out of her clothes and into a short nightgown. All the time, she was sobbing quietly, tiredly. Janet made her lie back on her pillows and sat stroking her tangled hair. Still crying, she fell asleep almost as soon as she had settled under the covers.

  “Ouch! Damn it!” Carrie shouted. Ralf hurried into the room and found her sitting on the floor, holding her side and moaning. He rushed over to her.

  “Carrie, are you all right?” he asked breathlessly. She glared at him.

  “I’m just dandy,” she snapped, then repented. “I’m okay, I think. It’s just that I had to go to the bathroom and I was still half-asleep when I got up, so I forgot to be careful. Then I went and tripped.”r />
  Ralf put out a hand and helped her to her feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he told her. “The doctor said to rest.”

  Carrie retorted, “There are some things that just don’t wait, Ralf.” She hesitated. “Could you help me to the bathroom, please?”

  “Sure thing, kiddo.” With her brother’s help, she managed to make it to the bathroom and back with no other mishaps. By the time she got back to bed, she was more than happy to slide in between the covers.

  The small trip had quite exhausted her.

  Ralf made sure she had something to read, then went downstairs to let Emma know she was awake and ready to eat something. Carrie glanced at the clock in horror after he had left. She’d slept right through the morning and well into the afternoon.

  Several minutes later, Emma came into the room with a loaded tray. She waited until Carrie had struggled upright, then set the tray across her lap. Emma stood looking down at her, waiting for her to peep under the covered lids, so she obligingly peeped and poked, exclaiming over the delicious-smelling poached eggs and the delicate sandwiches. She sniffed the soup happily, after lifting the lid of the steaming urn, and assured Emma that everything was just perfect. As Emma turned to go, Carrie called for her to wait.

  “Is Neil still downstairs?” she asked, dreading the answer. Emma’s eyebrows rose.

  “Why, yes, he is,” she said. “Janet has offered to let him stay here for a few days. He’d like to talk to you when you feel up to it.” Emma regarded her thoughtfully. “So Mr. Stanton is a friend of yours from Chicago?”

  Carrie didn’t resent Emma’s prying question, for Emma had been with the Metcalfe family for as long as she could remember. However, that didn’t mean that she was going to answer it fully. She said cautiously, “Neil and I used to see each other now and then, but I never thought we knew each other well enough to warrant him making a trip out to Colorado.”

  Emma nodded, satisfied. She had been sure Carrie couldn’t have felt serious about more than one man at a time. She walked on down the stairs humming.

  Carrie looked down at her delicious meal, her appetite diminished with the returning thought of her coming encounter with Neil. She wondered cynically if he had bothered to remember his wedding ring for the visit. She somehow doubted it. Eating was just the chore that she had expected; every bite was nearly impossible to swallow.

  After she finished pretending to eat, she laid her head back on her pillows and sighed, her eyes closed. Then, after a struggle, she managed to get her tray down on the floor, and settled back down for a nap.

  Rest, the doctor said, she thought to herself sleepily. That’s the easy part. She fell asleep.

  Carrie spent the evening in much the same way, only Cliff came in to see her before she settled down for the night. He sat on her bed gingerly, as if he might break her in doing so. Carrie had to hide a smile.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked gruffly. “Steven and Ralf tell me you took quite a bash in the back.”

  “Well, it wasn’t quite a tickle.”“ She chuckled. “I’m sore, of course, and easily tired, but really, other than the soreness and the stiffness, I’m just fine. I think I’ll try to get up tomorrow.”

  Cliff looked relieved. If Carrie was able to think about getting up, then she couldn’t have been hurt too badly. In fact, if she made it downstairs tomorrow, then that would mean she wasn’t seriously hurt. She might not have been in that much danger, after all. He approved. “I think that’s a good idea,” he told her. “The sooner you’re up, the better. Gotta work out all those kinks, and all.” And hang the doctor, who had said that she should stay in bed for a few days at least, he thought happily. She was just fine.

  Cliff stood up after a little while. Carried had big, dark, bruise-like circles under her eyes, and she looked quite fragile. He remarked, “It’s a good thing you’re ready for bed right now. You look horrible!” And with that comforting remark, he left.

  Carrie’s sleep was haunted by dreams about drowning all alone in a sea of madness. The next day, true to her word, she walked downstairs all by herself. Steven walked beside her the whole way to make sure she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself further. By the end of her journey from bedroom to living room, she was sweating from exhaustion, and trembling a little, but happy that she had made it without help. She gingerly lowered herself down on the couch, wincing at the pull the movement exerted on her stiff muscles. Janet and Emma stood by, beaming from ear to ear, Steven was very near, just in case, and of course, Neil was in attendance. Ralf and Cliff had made a trip into town.

  After pleased exclamation and general chatter, most everyone dispersed, tactfully—for the Metcalfes—leaving Carrie and Neil alone to talk.

  She watched Neil as he wandered about the room. She watched him handle an ornament from a small, carved table near the half-shuttered window, the movement of his hands, very familiar. She remembered every movement, every elegant mannerism that he possessed. An ache swelled in her throat, an ache for a remembered pain and betrayal, an ache for a lost dream. The light that poured into the room from the shuttered window threw a pattern of shadows across the smooth planes of Neil’s face, highlighting the beauty in his perfect features and his light yellow hair that was smoothly brushed back. Now that she could look at him somewhat objectively, she could see that it was the perfection of his face and the slim yet well-built body that had first attracted her to him. It was pleasing to rest her eyes on him.

  “What do you want, Neil?” She spoke quietly. He set the ornament down carefully.

  “It’s simple in the end, Carrie.” He spoke just as quietly as she, the well-polished voice falling into the silence of the room. She had a vague impression that the voice did not belong in this room, a room of happy memories for her. She had never expected to hear it here. “I just want you.”

  She started to fiddle with the edge of the blanket that Steven had brought downstairs for her. The conversation was harder than she had anticipated. She sighed. “I told you once, my dear,” she looked at his lean fingers on the left hand, “you should acknowledge your married state by wearing your ring.”

  “No more.” For the first time she heard the ragged quality in Neil’s voice as he spoke the words. “Carrie,” he said, turning to look her full in the face, “I’ve filed for divorce.”

  The news hit her hard. She stared at him, unable to take in what he had just confessed. The divorce immediately put a limit to his career as a politician. He would never be able to rise above a certain point from here on out. Carrie thought of the wife she had never met and of her pain and anger. Sickness had made Neil’s wife a virtual cripple and a querulous invalid, but that she thought she could understand. To be so tied and to know, deep down, that your husband was spending more and more time away from home and guessing why…it was a very hurting sort of hell that Carrie envisaged.

  “What about Joan?” she asked.

  “She’ll be looked after. She’ll never be alone, I’ll see to that.” Neil spoke concisely, making a downward movement with his hand, and Carrie stared. How easy, after all, to cut someone out of one’s life! she thought. All it needed was a piece of paper. There had been a fine edge of cruelty in his dismissing gesture; it had implications that she didn’t want to dwell on.

  “Carrie.” Neil came forward and took her hands in his. “I knew when you left just how much I needed you. Everything else paled in comparison. All I could think of was how I longed to hold you in my arms, how I longed to tell you how much I cared.”

  She pulled her hands out of his grasp. “And was all this after I said no?” she asked, a hard note in her voice.

  He straightened; they looked at each other for a long, long time. Then she stirred, opening her mouth. As she had looked at Neil, a darker, harder, more powerful face appeared in her mind. A face that smiled with the devil’s own smile. Her answer to Neil couldn’t be anything else but no.

  A footfall sounded outside the room and a dark figure showed in the d
oorway. Then, with no smile at all on his face, Gabe walked into the room. Carrie turned to him, a beam breaking out over her own face, and she reached out to him with both hands.

  “Why, Gabe.” She smiled, delighted. “How are you feeling today? I’m doing much better and I walked down the stairs all by myself this afternoon. Did you suffer any ill effects?”

  Gabe strode over to her and took her hands for a moment, his eyes smiling a little, though his face was not. “I suffered nothing that a good stiff shot of whisky didn’t cure,” he told her. Looking around, he finally acknowledged Neil’s presence with a nod. “We didn’t get a chance to meet the other night. I’m Gabriel Jackson.”

  “Neil Stanton,” Neil said somewhat shortly, holding out a hand. They shook hands briefly, and Carrie suddenly noticed a subtle tightening in the air, a sort of tension that emanated from the two men. They watched each other with a wariness that she couldn’t help but see.

  “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything too important?” Gabe asked, his gaze moving from one face to another.

  “Well, as a matter of fact…” Neil started.

  Carrie rode over whatever Neil was about to say. “Nothing that couldn’t wait,” she said firmly. Neil raised his eyebrows. She patted the seat beside her. “Gabe, sit down and tell me about your work. How’s the shopping centre going? Is everything still on schedule for this week?”

  Gabe lowered himself down in the seat she had patted. “Things seem to be going well,” he said slowly. “There are a few points that I’m…unsure about.” His eyes were fixed on her face. She got the strangest feeling that he was saying something of great importance, if she could but decipher it. “When I get things cleared up, I might be leaving the district, at least for a while. Other matters are needing my attention. Who knows, though? Anything might happen.”

  His eyes swiveled to Neil, their depths perceptively cooling. “What do you do for a living—er—Stanton, was it?” Carrie was astounded. Gabe’s manner approached insolence. She had never seen him act any other way but polite and extremely charming.