Shadows 02 Celtic Shadows

by K C West

“You’ll never know. Now, back off.” I was sure Terry could feel my strength draining away. Holding me with one arm, she used the other to pull my shirt open and paw at my chest, making soft mewing sounds. When she tried to put her mouth over my breast, I broke away long enough to deliver a solid punch to her eye. We both cried out in pain.

  “You little bitch!” She backhanded me hard across the mouth, splitting my lip and bringing tears to my eyes. I bent over and clutched my jaw with my aching right hand.

  “God damn it, that hurts.” Terry picked me up and tossed me on the bed, where I lay on my back, gasping.

  “Help! Somebody help me!” My shouts were feeble now, and I was shivering from pain.

  Terry climbed on the bed and straddled my hips.

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Shut up. You hear me? Just shut up.” Her chest was heaving, her breath coming in great gasps. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I really didn’t. I just wanted things to be the way they were with Kim and me, but you were in the way. So, I’m going to change the rules and split you up for good by having a little fun with you.”

  I swallowed some bloody saliva. “Kim and I had a fight, but we’ll work it out. It’s not over between us.”

  “She’s too old for you anyway. You’re better off without her.” She lowered her head and clamped her mouth over my exposed breast, applying her tongue and teeth to my nipple.

  I felt nauseous, and the room was spinning. Pain and panic had me gasping for air. “Stop! You’re crazy. You’ve got to stop - ”

  Wham! The door crashed open with a tremendous noise and Kim burst into the room like a human dynamo. She seized Terry by the shoulders and tossed her to the floor. Harsh barking and fierce growls bounced off the walls.

  “I’ll handle this, Pup! Go to PJ.”

  Shivering and whimpering, I curled into a fetal position. The bleeding wound was making me light-headed. If I moved too much, I was afraid I’d pass out.

  Pup came to me, and I held on to him as tightly as I could with my good arm. Deep-throated growls rumbled in his chest. If ordered, he would have torn Terry to pieces. I was afraid Kim was going to do just that all by herself; she was pummeling Terry’s face with her bare hands.

  “Kim, no!” I cried.

  Terry cowered and covered her face with both hands, trying to talk between the blows. “Ow! Stop. PJ came on to me. I didn’t want to - out of respect for - ”

  “You lying bitch!” Kim smashed Terry’s nose, and blood splattered over both of them. “Don’t talk to me about respect. You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

  “Please stop. You’re going to kill me.”

  Kim readied another punch. “I should kill you.”

  “Please, Kimmy,” I said, “you’ve got to stop.”

  “Stay out of this, PJ. It’s between Terry and me.”

  My father and Geoff dashed into the room.

  “My God!” Dad snatched up a blanket and covered me. “Easy. Don’t try to move.”

  “What the bloody hell?” Geoff stared at my face.

  “Go call an ambulance,” Dad said to him. “I’ll handle Kim.”

  Kim resisted Dad’s efforts to restrain her, but after some persuasion, she lowered her swollen fists and stepped back, leaving a battered and blood-smeared Terry lying on the floor.

  Kim turned her attention toward me, and her rage seemed to drain away as quickly as it had taken hold.

  “My God, PJ. Are you okay?” Her eyes glistened with tears. She cradled me in her arms before lowering me down on the bed and propping a pillow under my head. Using an extra pillowcase, she stanched the flow of blood from my shoulder. Even with the blanket covering me, I couldn’t stop shivering.

  “I’m so cold, Kimmy.”

  “It’s going to be okay.” Kim brushed my bangs back and placed a tender kiss on my forehead. “Help will be here in no time.”

  “I know, but first, I want to tell you - .”

  “Don’t try to talk now.”

  I clutched at her, feeling her strong arms around me, moving gingerly across my back and shoulders.

  “Where does it hurt, sweetheart?”

  “My shoulder, my head…” I flexed my fingers. “My right hand.” My breast. Oh, Kimmy. Terry’s tongue… her teeth…

  I started to cry.

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” Tears spilled down Kim’s cheeks and dripped from her chin. “If I hadn’t been so pig-headed - ”

  “No.” I stopped her apology. “I doubted you. It’s my fault. I’m so incredibly sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

  She pulled me to her breast, ruffled my hair, and kissed the top of my head. I could hear the rapid beating of her heart. “Of course, little one, though I don’t blame you one bit. We’ll talk more, after we get you fixed up. Damn that woman! What the hell is the matter with her? She’s always been flirtatious and full of herself, but this is far out even for her.”

  I heard Dad’s voice and Arwel’s, too, saying something about shock, but my head was spinning and darkness closed in on me. From a long distance, I heard Kim shouting, “Where the hell is that bloody ambulance?”

  I had a vague awareness of several strong hands probing me from different angles. I remembered ripping and tearing sounds, cold metal against my chest, a tightening on one arm, and then relief. I felt sharp pricks of pain and heard confident voices murmuring soothing words above me. I was lifted onto a stretcher and sank comfortably into a cozy, warm corner of my mind, free of pain for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

  *

  Light flickered behind my eyelids, and hushed voices penetrated my subconscious. Though I couldn’t quite understand the words, the voices were familiar. Other senses came to my assistance.

  Antiseptic smells. Stiff sheets pulled snug against my body. A tube taped to the back of my hand. Shit. I was in the hospital. Again.

  Details came flooding back to me. Terry. The attack. Kim and Pup charging to my rescue.

  I needed to open my eyes. I had to tell Kim that I was sorry we fought. I was an idiot not to realize that Terry was behind it all. Kim had to forgive me. Damn it, why wouldn’t my eyes open?

  “Hey there, beautiful.” Kim’s voice penetrated the haze.

  I felt her touch my arm, and I opened my eyes as she leaned over the bed railing to kiss my cheek.

  “Welcome back, little one,” she whispered.

  I blinked back an onslaught of tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Shh.” Two fingers brushed across my lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I was so stupid. And I was too weak to stop her.”

  “It’s over now, and you’re safe.” She blotted my cheeks with a tissue and kissed me again, on the mouth this time.

  Her lips grazed my cheek and touched the tip of my nose, making me smile.

  “That’s more like it.” She grinned and gripped my free hand. “You’re going to be fine, you’ll see. Once you get your strength back, we’re going to be better than ever.”

  My smile faltered. Somehow, I didn’t think it would be that easy.

  Chapter 27

  PJ was still sedated when I entered her hospital room. I tiptoed to the side of her bed and stood by the railing, watching her chest rise and fall with each gentle breath, assuring myself that she wasn’t in any discomfort.

  Her face was pale beneath long straggly bangs. She’d want a haircut as soon as we got back to Boston.

  The bruise along her jaw was changing from red to purple. Damn Terry! I wanted to do a number on her jaw. My wish for revenge turned into a smile of satisfaction. Hell, I had already done a number on her face she wouldn’t soon forget. I giggled, and wondered if she’d need a nose job.

  PJ looked so fragile, lying there with tubes and attachments hooked up to her body. The doctor had assured Frederick and me that the intravenous fluids were precautionary, keeping her electrolytes balanced, and that the catheter would be removed as soon as she was am
bulatory. The medical mumbo-jumbo gave me a headache, and it scared me to see her so still, so vulnerable.

  I was supposed to be her Amazon warrior, her protector. If only I’d been quicker getting back to the room, I could have stopped Terry from hurting her. My throat tightened. If only…

  I rested my hands on the bed rail and found it cold to the touch. It felt like a barrier between us. What other barriers had come between us because of Terry and her vicious tricks?

  I felt another flush of anger and struggled to compose myself.

  I had to focus on PJ. She was going to need plenty of support when she woke up.

  As if hearing my thoughts, she moved her hand in my direction and sighed. I slid my arm between the bars of the rail and tickled her fingertips.

  “Hey there, beautiful.” Gently, I stroked her forearm. “Welcome back, little one.”

  She stirred. I watched her soft, green eyes open and immediately flood with tears. Her stammered apology sent daggers of guilt straight to my heart.

  I reached for a tissue to dry her tears.

  “It’s over now, and you’re safe.” I kissed her, then kissed her again.

  “You’re going to be fine, you’ll see. Once you get your strength back, we’re going to be better than ever.”

  She accepted my words but didn’t seem convinced that all was well. The PJ I knew and loved was never this passive.

  I relaxed a little after the doctors came in and told us that physically she was going to be okay. She’d spend one more night in the hospital and then be released to my care.

  After a few days of recuperation, PJ was getting stronger, but I could see that the traumas of the kidnapping and Terry’s vicious attack were affecting her mental state. I hoped that time and good therapy would fix that. Meanwhile, I intended to distract her with some short trips away from our room, to reconnect socially.

  PJ had always loved eating out, talking to people, visiting friends, shopping, and seeing shows, but for the past few days, she’d confined herself to our room with only me for company. To nudge her out of seclusion and back to the real world, I’d made dinner reservations for the evening.

  I held her jacket as she slid her arms into the sleeves. Judging from the amount of grimacing going on, she was still in pain from her wound. It would take some time before her shoulder returned to normal, and the slow healing had to be frustrating her.

  There were smudges of fatigue under her eyes, and her face was pale from too much indoor confinement. She needed to get out and start living again.

  We needed to be working, but projects weren’t a dime a dozen and there wasn’t anything in our sights for the immediate future. Oh, how I missed the years of searching for the lost tribe. I sighed. Something would materialize. It always did.

  Inviting PJ out to dinner might be premature, but it also might boost her spirits. Damn those men, and damn Terry, for what they did to her, taking the sparkle from her eyes. Damn them to hell.

  “I’d like us to go to Sally’s Cafe for dinner,” I said, a reassuring smile plastered on my face. “But if you don’t feel up to it yet, just say so.”

  She poked me in the chest, forcing me backwards. Apparently, she wasn’t as weak as she looked. “Stop fussing over me. Honestly, Kim, sometimes you’re like a mother hen. My shoulder’s not that bad today. I even have a bit of an appetite.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.” I held out my right hand, and after giving me a puzzled look, she shook it. “We’ll go tonight then, and I promise not to act like a mother hen.”

  “It’s a deal.” She flashed me her familiar lopsided grin.

  “But it’s cool and damp outside, so maybe your heavier jacket would be better.”

  “Cluck, cluck.”

  I raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, point taken. I won’t say another word.”

  She scooped up her shoulder bag, and we left our room. “Promises, promises,” I heard her mutter, as we descended the narrow stairs.

  I couldn’t help it. I loved her so much.

  *

  Although the cafe wasn’t crowded, we asked for a table in the rear where we could talk without being overheard and PJ could ease herself back into civilization. As we were led to it, heads turned and watched us, but most diners returned to their conversations after a few polite glances. Since the story of PJ’s kidnapping had been publicized, they more than likely knew who we were, and their curiosity was understandable.

  Muted talk mingled with sounds of tinkling glasses and clinking silverware to provide background noise as we soaked up the Welsh atmosphere.

  PJ spied the collection of teapots. “Oh, aren’t they gorgeous? I wonder if they’re for sale.”

  I shrugged. “We could ask, though I imagine they’re part of the owner’s private collection.”

  She admired them a second or two longer, and then focused on me. “No matter. The whole place is so enchanting, so very Welsh.”

  “Wait until you taste the food.” I gave her a wink. “The aromas alone will put pounds on you.”

  PJ frowned. “Ah, yes, my weight. We’re back to that topic.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.”

  “Now then,” a smiling young waitress said, handing us each a menu, “how are you ladies today?”

  We murmured a few noncommittal words and smiled back at her. She had striking blue eyes and reddish blonde hair, pulled back into a pony tail.

  I took a quick look at the menu, but neither of us needed any time to decide on our orders.

  “Steak and kidney pie for me, please,” I said.

  “And I’d like the trout cooked in white wine and lemon juice.” PJ looked at me. “Should we order tea, or do you want something stronger?”

  I smiled at her and turned my head toward the waitress. “A pot of tea will be fine, thank you.”

  She finished writing our orders and reclaimed the menus. “I’ll be back in a tick with your tea, ladies.”

  When the entrees arrived, I insisted that PJ try a bite of mine. She sampled a small portion, but wasn’t impressed.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait so long for your trout,” I told her, dabbing a drop of gravy from my lip. “We had to weather a storm before we could land those babies.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like we went out and caught them.”

  “True, but with all we went through before getting to this point, we might as well have gone fishing for them.”

  I hadn’t fly-fished in years. It was something I had enjoyed until work assignments, Amazons, and other complications got in the way. I imagined a perfect fly-fishing holiday with PJ.

  Fly-fishing was poetry in motion. I could visualize the line sailing through the air, over the fresh, clear water, the sun glinting on its arc. It took a lot of skill to get the lure to land at exactly the right spot - fooling the fish into thinking the colorful critter was the real thing.

  It was a battle of wits between fisher and fished.

  Archaeology was a little like that: a battle of wits between the ancient world and the modern one. Reading the past was much like reading the habits of a fresh-water trout; it didn’t want to be caught any more than the past wanted to be revealed.

  I heard the soft clink of a spoon against my water glass. “Kimmy, oh, Kimmy… Is there anyone home?”

  “Sorry, I was far away.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “Actually, I was thinking about fly-fishing.”

  “Fly-fishing?” Her eyes widened, and I noted the lopsided grin before it disappeared.

  “Yeah. Do you like to fish?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember ever doing much of it.” She rubbed her chin, thinking. “There was one time, now that I think of it, when I was little.”

  I smothered a laugh.

  She frowned at me. “You know what I mean. Okay, when I was younger. Dad took me on a boat, and we went deep-sea fishing. That wasn’t much fun, really. I had to get strapped into a special chai
r and hold this enormous rod. My arms ached and my hands were bent into claws.” She gestured with curled fingers. “It took forever to reel the stupid fish close enough to the boat, and then the men threw it back anyway.” She wrinkled up her face.

  “This would be a lot different. Would you like to try?”

  She reached across the table and gave my hand a squeeze. “Kimmy, with you, I’ll try anything.”

  I placed my other hand on top of hers. “Then we’ll do it.”

  “As long as you take care of the fish and the worms.”

  “We don’t use worms in fly-fishing. We use lures.”

  PJ reclaimed her hand and took a sip of tea. “Okay, whatever.” She put the cup in its saucer and rubbed her palms together. “Now that’s settled, what’s for dessert?”

  “Dessert?”

  “Yeah, you know, those gooey goodies you drool over before devouring, then regret having eaten when your pants get too tight.”

  “You have such a romantic way of putting things.”

  “Dessert, my dear. What about dessert?”

  How could I resist her? I was putty in her hands, and overjoyed to see her so animated. Besides, she needed the extra calories. I picked up the dessert menu and made a show of perusing the list.

  “I’m having apple-cinnamon cake,” she said, as if to spur me into action.

  “Okay, I think I’ll have blackberry and apple pie with custard sauce.”

  “Ooh, that sounds good, too. Maybe we can split and have a little of both.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You mean if I let you taste mine, you’ll let me taste yours?”

  The sexual innuendo struck us both at the same time, and we grinned lecherously. I was encouraged to see a hint of the devilish PJ returning. She leaned across the table to add something naughty, but was interrupted by the waitress asking if we had decided on dessert, or sweet, as she called it.

  “We’re going to share,” PJ said with a straight face. “We’re going to taste each other’s. Can we do that?”

  “Oh yes. We have many customers who like to taste each other’s sweet.”

  I spluttered as her perfectly innocent remark caught me in the act of swallowing water.

  *