Russ and Corey laid strong, competent hands on her and got her up on the island as easily as if she’d been on a stretcher. They arranged her along the edge and Corey held the damaged arm to keep it from dangling.
“Do you want to do the honors, Russ?”
“No.”
Corey grasped her hand in a tight, interlaced grip and, remarkably, kicked off a shoe to put a foot right near her armpit. “For leverage. The socks are clean.”
“They won’t be when you’re finished,” Elise answered, but tensed. She was afraid it would hurt like the dickens. It did. Eyes shut, she concentrated on afterburner images at the backs of her lids. But Corey pulled steadily for less than five minutes before she felt the joint pop back into place. She opened her eyes to see Corey still beaming and Russ sweating.
She gasped with relief. “If I lie here for a few minutes I should be fine.”
“Nope. You need to get checked out. There’s an immediate care place not far from here. It opens at seven.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and consulted it. “Which is in a few minutes. I think they’ll confirm you’re banged up, will probably lose that toenail, don’t have a concussion, and do have a neck spasm.”
Russ snorted. “Hard head and stiff neck. Sounds like our Elise. You up to going now? The faster they say you’re all right the faster you can get home and cleaned up.”
“You always find ways to boost my ego, Pastor.”
The doctor at the urgent care center didn’t do much for her self-esteem, either. He shook his head and tut-tutted and asked how the other guy looked. Her blood pressure was all right, but a little on the low side. Her weight was fine if she was in training for long distance running but he could tell from her muscle tone she wasn’t. Russ seemed to find this amusing. Until the doctor asked Elise if she minded having her husband stay in the waiting room during the more thorough examination. Russell almost choked and departed as though a mad scientist wanted to use him for spare parts.
“Bless him, no. That wasn’t my husband. He should count himself fortunate he isn’t.” But Elise found herself forlorn at Russ’s absence.
The doctor humphed a bit before asking if Russ was a boyfriend. No? Did they have relations? For a split second Elise thought he wanted a list of their family members. “Oh, boy. You don’t know Russ, do you? He’s a pastor.”
“That doesn’t mean much these days. I have to ask, which is why I wanted him out of here. Some of your injuries could be caused by abuse. You’d be surprised how many remorseful husbands or boyfriends take the woman they just finished beating to a pulp to the emergency room. Or maybe they aren’t so remorseful, and want to keep an ear on things.”
Elise doubted he fully believed her denials. He humphed some more and told her to change into a gown and he’d be back. Her shoulder hurt. It had seemed so much better after Corey reunited it with its proper joint.
A knock at the door preceded the doctor. “Let’s double check what you told me. You slipped on some flagstones and fell in the pool. Where you scraped your elbow and toe respectively?” While he questioned, he poked and prodded her extremities and moved to her midsection. “This all seems fine. Think you can sit up? I want to check your spine.” He moved practiced fingers up her back. “Now I’ll just slip the gown from your shoulder and—” he stopped. “You’re telling me you slipped and fell in the water?”
“I must have. I sure didn’t plan to go swimming in the rain before sunup. I told the nurse I thought a broken branch was my dog in the water. And while I was trying to see better…I’m not sure what happened. The wind was strong…” she trailed off. “It would take a pretty terrific gust of wind to shove me in the pool. Wouldn’t it?”
“I’ve never known wind to leave a mark like this. The skin is damaged and you’ve already got a doozy of a bruise. No wonder your shoulder hurt.”
“I thought that was from being dislocated.”
“How did it happen?”
“I’m not sure.”
“A hard blow can cause dislocation.”
“Oh. Ohhhhh. Someone whacked me in the shoulder? When my head was right there? Doesn’t seem the most surefire way to get rid of someone.”
“I’m not necessarily saying someone did it. Maybe it was another tree branch.” He seemed as though he doubted it, and so did Elise.
He scribbled on the clipboard, and moved toward the door. “I’m going to have the nurse fit you with a full shoulder brace. It’ll relieve some discomfort and minimize the chance of it happening again. It’ll give you a bit more range of motion than in a sling. Ice it for the first day or so. Call your regular doctor in a few days. Take pain relievers. Don’t go for any more predawn swims.” He didn’t say anything about avoiding potential killers.
A nurse brought a brace that fit snugly around Elise’s arm and shoulder without irritating the wounded area. Without comment she helped her back into the blouse that had been so pretty only yesterday. Russ, pacing the waiting room, frowned when he saw the brace under her sleeveless shirt. “Oh man. Was it something worse than a simple dislocation? Did we hurt it more?”
“Yes and no.” Elise explained about the lacerations and contusions. “You and Corey were so concerned with guarding my modesty you never thought to look. Let’s go. Please?”
“We’re going, but I want you to tell me everything. Everything you remember.”
“I told you already.”
“Right. That first run through was a little disjointed. Try again and tell me every single thing.”
And she did. Her shoulder didn’t hurt as badly, her damp clothes had almost dried, and she could think clearly. Russ proved, as she knew already, an excellent listener when he needed to be, and didn’t interrupt once. Not till he’d parked in front of the house did he comment.
“Here’s what I think. Someone hit you with something. Not a fist, but something capable of cutting skin. They aimed at your head, but at the crucial second you had that muscle spasm. When your shoulder jerked up, the movement shifted that hard noggin out of the way, and your shoulder got the brunt of it. I’m guessing you went toward the water face first, but fell on the branch. I hate to tell you how many little cuts and scratches decorate your chin and forehead. It caught your hair and kept your nose and mouth above water. I’m guessing that old dead branch saved your life.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine
“The Hound of Heaven,” Line 90
Elise felt colder than when she had woken in the water. She wanted a hot bath and her bed and her dogs.
“Russ!”
“What? Don’t scare me!”
“Mutt! I have to get Mutt. I promised him!”
“Elise, it has to wait. No, I mean it. Here is what is going to happen. You get out of those clothes. Should I call someone to help?”
“If you do I’ll never speak to you again.”
“Ha. If you were in a room full of your worst enemies you wouldn’t be able to keep from talking to them. As I tried saying, get yourself warm and comfortable. I’ll wait and make sure you’re all right. When you’re safe in bed I’ll go pick up Mutt. You can call or write a note or whatever. All right?”
Elise struggled out of the brace and the horrid, clinging clothes. For the first time since she was small she wished her mother could help her. She wanted her mom to ice her back after the shower and help her dress. She wanted her mother to hold her hand and the need became so intense it burned hot tears in her throat.
“Russ. I’m coming with you to get Mutt.”
“Oh, good grief.” Then, “You look nice.”
“Thank you kindly, Pastor.” Anything would be an improvement on the bedraggled mess of an hour ago. To cover her banged-up legs she’d picked a black and white chevron striped maxi-dress. To cover the brace she added a light blue chambray shirt, tied at the waist. Remembering the vulnerability of loose hair she’d pulled it in a sleek ponytail. “I know you have the funeral today and yo
u’ve done more than any friend I’ve ever had. But are you up for one more favor?” The tears still gathered at the back of her throat and made her voice rasp.
“Of course.” The exasperated tone gone, he sounded solicitous.
“Drop Mutt and me off by my parents. They’re at Golden Sands Assisted Living. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Are pets allowed there?”
“I’ll say Mutt is a therapy dog.”
Mutt outdid his expressions of joy at the sight of Elise and Russ. The morning staff assembled to bid their fan favorite farewell. The bill presented her by the receptionist seemed ridiculously low for over twenty-four hours of care and treatment by trained medics. She briefly considered adding a tip but had a notion that might insult their professional pride. There wasn’t a spot for it anyway.
Elise had hated to leave Jeff home but she doubted her ability to smuggle both dogs into her parent’s room. In spite of her confident words she wasn’t certain the dog therapist act would work. By the time Russ pulled up to the front door she knew she wouldn’t be able to tuck him inside her shirt. Mutt was physically incapable of remaining still.
“Can you pull around the west side, please? My folks have a patio door to the outside. I’m chickening out of trying to bluff my way past the staff. Or worse, all the old folks who will want to pet him.” Russ obliged and turned onto a service drive.
“Stop here. I think that’s the one.” She looked dubiously at the long flank of identical patio doors, each with its own small concrete patio. “I’ve never gone in this way before. Ah well. I’ll mosey and pretend I’m taking Mutt for a stroll.” She waited gratefully for Russ to help her and Mutt from the pickup.
“Elise, I wish I could pick you up after you’re done visiting. It’s only nine thirty. If I go home, change into my suit for the funeral and come back in about an hour I could get you to your house and then run to the funeral home before the service. I’m not officiating—my predecessor is. My contribution is a couple of prayers.”
The temptation to agree almost overpowered her resolution. These last days Russ had been her bulwark, but she needed to remember his best interests. What if he started to think she had reciprocal feelings? Worse, had she already begun experiencing them?
“No. You’ll get Mutt hair all over your suit. I’m going to be tough and brave and call a taxi for real this time. Thanks much, Russ. Don’t forget to give my sympathy to Mrs. Washington.”
She waved at him and reached to clip Mutt’s leash to his collar, but the ungrateful dog decided to make the tall, lanky young man his new best friend. He wound himself between Russ’s long legs and Elise hurt too badly to snatch him up.
“I’ll walk you to your parent’s door.” Russ hoisted Mutt into his arms. “Is your plan to peek in windows till we find their room?”
Elise pointed at the fifth set of patio doors. “See that shiny thing in the window? It’s the sun-catcher I made for them when I was in grade school.”
At the patio, Russ set Mutt down, clipped on his leash and handed it to Elise. “I know you’re trying to give me a brush-off. But like it or not, I’m your friend. Until you tell me you absolutely want nothing to do with me, I’m going to act like one. No strings attached, I promise. Except the one I’m convinced links us in Christ.”
She refused to watch him walk to his car. What if a long, thin cord ran between them?
Her father fumbled with the door. His arms lifted momentarily as though he wanted to put them around her. But Nelson Ashe prided himself as an undemonstrative man and settled for an affectionate rub on Mutt’s head. Elise tensed as he bent his already curved back to reach the dog. She knew better than to help him straighten. He put a trembling hand on the sturdy door handle and inched back to his customary fifteen-degree angle.
“Didn’t want the desk sergeant to see the dog, eh?”
“Can’t fool you, Dad.” Stepping into the compact living area, she squeezed his arm and looked around the room. “Where’s Mom?”
“Bed. Watching television.”
Bed had been her location the last time Elise visited. Where she had been every day for ages. Doctors insisted she was in good health. Therapists suggested she get a hobby, friends promised to pick her up and take her shopping. But malaise had permeated Phoebe Ashe.
Her father asked about the funeral. “Thank you for understanding why we couldn’t be there.” She understood, had even urged them not to come. Her father’s Parkinson’s prevented him from driving, his loyalty to his wife kept him from leaving her side.
She described the huge turnout, the flowers, the wonderful catered meal. The last took a stretch of imagination since she hadn’t tasted much of it. She left out the visit with Detective Bly.
Nelson gave up his driver’s license two years earlier. He and Phoebe had decided Elise would be too busy with her husband—they graciously referred to Timothy’s coolness toward them as ‘preoccupied.’ With their other daughter in France and likely to stay there, they sold their home and moved into one of the nicest assisted living complexes in the area. Only in their late sixties, they had grand plans for travel and socializing. Within a month, Phoebe had succumbed to a depression no one could understand and lately she seldom worked up the energy to dress, much less leave the small apartment.
From the end of the short hall terminating in the sole bedroom, Elise’s mother called. The once-vibrant voice had not remained immune to the lethargy gripping the rest of her.
“Elise? Do I hear a dog?”
Mutt assumed this was an invitation. Elise pictured him leaping on the bed and covering her approving mother in kisses. She followed more slowly.
Her mother, formerly vibrant, energetic, smart, and witty, nestled in heaps of pillows—feather, throw, and decorative. She held out thin arms. Elise leaned in for an embrace, realizing sadly that these uncertain hands, the underused arms, could no longer support her daughter.
“Hi, Mom. How are you doing?”
Phoebe felt fretfully among the pillows. “Where is my remote? Always the last place I look. These judge shows. Sometimes they have seedy people but occasionally I’ve found some quite interesting cases.” She pointed the remote at the TV and clicked it off. “This is one of the seedy ones.” She pushed herself higher on the pillows and pulled Mutt into the crook of her arm. “I’m still a bit tired. Maybe I’ll try getting up tomorrow.”
Elise needed all her self-control to avoid exchanging a meaningful look with her father.
“Sit down here, Elise.” Her mother patted the side of the bed. “Tell me about the funeral. Did you have lots of friends to console you?”
“Plenty, Mom.” When had lying come so easily? “Russell Martinez was there too. I don’t know if you remember he went to school with me.”
Nelson took the sole chair in the room only after his daughter had settled on the bed. He sat slowly and Elise had to look away when she saw the futile effort he made to control the tremors of the hands he laid in his lap. “I remember him. Friend of Christopher’s? Pallbearer at the funeral, I think. Became a preacher, didn’t he? Did he know Timothy?”
They talked a bit more about Russell, and the exploits of the dogs, Elise careful to avoid any unpleasantness, her parents pretending a healthy woman didn’t lie bedridden and hag-ridden.
Nelson drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth, not before Elise saw a shining rivulet of drool escape the corner of his lips. This was new. Her stomach tightened, but her father spoke in his usual voice. “Are you going to be able to keep living at the estate, honey?” The endearment brought tears and she blinked rapidly.
“Not for long, Dad. But nobody is kicking me out.” Unless of course she was arrested. Or the head basher did it right the next time.
“Oh, Elise.” Her mother sighed, and pushed Mutt away with an irritable motion so alien to her. “If only we hadn’t been so quick to sell the house and move here. You could have lived with us.”
The idea conceived and birthed
itself in one miraculous manifestation. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking.” Again the lie, but this one so white as to be bleached into purity. “I’m going to have plenty of money. More than I know what to do with. So guess what?”
Her father focused on the handkerchief, trying to fold it and willing his hands to cooperate. Her mother’s hand crept toward the remote. Maybe a less seedy case was up.
“I’m buying a new house and you are getting out of here and moving in with me.”
She wasn’t sure what reaction she expected. Positive, or negative. Anything except the detached, distracted courtesy her parents demonstrated.
“Mutt. You heard me, didn’t you? Don’t you want Phoebe and Nelson to come live with us?”
Mutt, responding more to the tone than the words, licked her hand.
“That is one yes. Well, folks? Are you going to come keep me company, or do you prefer the delights of Golden Sands?”
Phoebe’s hand stopped grasping for the channel changer. She looked at her husband. Nelson tucked the kerchief back in his pocket.
“Elise, that is laudable. But I don’t think you realize your mother and I aren’t the people we were.”
“Dad. Mom. I don’t think you realize how much I need you. Don’t you understand you’re all I have left? I don’t want to live alone. I don’t want to marry again. I don’t care if I have to learn how to take care of you. And I won’t listen to any arguments. You’re shutting off the money faucet to this place and giving them notice. Sunday I’m picking you up and we’re going for a ride in the country. We’ll decide if you want to live in one of those picturesque little towns on the Mississippi or on a farmette where I’ll learn to milk goats, or maybe we’ll move to Scotland and compare midges with mosquitoes. Listen to me. Listen carefully.”
Phoebe, Nelson, even Mutt, sat still. “All your lives you sacrificed for me. And if you thought you could quit sacrificing now, you have another think coming. I don’t want to visit you at Golden Sands. I want to make our favorite foods and talk to you across the kitchen table. I want you to tell me about the good old days and I want—I want…” Horrified to hear her voice crack, she stood quickly and bit back a yelp as her aching self reacted to the swift movement. “It’s all about Elise, and that’s your fault. You spoiled me. Now you’re going to pay for it by being stuck with me.”
Hounded Page 10
