“Yes, I…think so.” Debra sank onto the exam bed.
Jama pulled off the jacket and helped her lie back. The woman felt so frail. So breakable.
“Clancy hated doctors,” Debra said. “He hated anybody he thought was rich. Talked about it all the time, bragging how he took a sledgehammer to a Rolls, knocked the windshield out of a Porsche.”
Jama placed a blood pressure cuff on Debra’s arm and pressed the button on the automatic machine. “Why did he hate them so?”
Debra shook her head. Jama noticed that her eyes didn’t focus. “He was crazy, you know? Grew up poor, to hear him tell it. Mother was an addict, died from withdrawal when he couldn’t find any crack for her, couldn’t con a doctor into writing him a narcotics scrip.”
“That’s why he went after Mark with such a vengeance, then,” Jama said. Debra’s blood pressure was too high. It didn’t fit with the low heart rate.
The front door opened, and Jama and Debra heard footsteps, and the sound of men’s voices, mingled with Ruth’s.
Debra started to cry. “Oh, Jama, help me. I don’t want to go to prison.”
Jama called out the door to her boss and the agents. “Ruth, we need Chelsea for radiology, and we need a bag of saline. Debra’s dry, but there’s something else going on. I won’t know if she can be moved until I do an exam and we take some X-rays.”
She looked up when Agent Sydloski stepped into the room. He studied Debra’s battered face.
“You should see her abdomen,” Jama told him.
He nodded. “Do whatever you need to do.”
Jama was attempting to establish an IV in Debra’s needle-tracked arm when Debra spoke again.
“It hurts.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m being as gentle as I can.”
“My head. Hurt’s so…so bad.” Debra cried out, and then her body went limp. Her head flopped to the side. She stopped breathing.
“No. Debra!” Jama did a sternal rub to try to wake her. There was no pulse. Jama checked her pupils. The right one was blown.
Jama looked around for Ruth. “I need a crash cart. We’ve got a code blue.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Jama sat on Zelda’s front porch swing, watching the morning rush-hour traffic pass by. Two school buses, three minivans, two cars in the space of ten minutes. A lot for River Dance. Everyone waved, and Jama waved back, glad she was far enough from the street that no one could see her tears.
They wouldn’t stop flowing. It was as if she’d dammed them up all these years, and the dam had finally broken.
The worst part of the morning had been watching Zelda age and wither when Jama told her about Debra, when they watched Debra’s body being taken away by Jim Wilcox from Berger Funeral Home.
A gentle south wind continued to blow this morning, warming the air with spring’s touch. The tears chilled on Jama’s cheeks, and she withdrew yet another tissue from her pocket.
She heard a familiar sound, and looked up to see Tyrell’s Durango coming down the street. She looked away quickly as it parked in front of Zelda’s house.
Why had she stayed here? She wasn’t up to this. Wasn’t up to anything today. Ruth had given her the day off. Why not return home to Columbia? She needed more sleep. She did not need more grief from Tyrell. Hadn’t she done that enough to herself these past years?
From the corner of her eye she saw Tyrell step from his Durango and walk slowly up the sidewalk. He stopped at the porch steps.
“Hi,” he said.
She glanced at him, nodded, looked away. Didn’t he have enough sensitivity to give her a break today?
He took the steps, hesitated in front of her, then sat down in the antique rocker. For a moment, he was silent, rocking back and forth, as if he had all the time in the world, as if they sat like this every day. Their knees nearly touched. He was close enough for her to catch the scent of the soap he’d showered with this morning. And yet she’d never felt so far from him.
What was he doing here?
She braced herself for more questions about the night of Amy’s death, more anger that she knew he would have to work through. It was understandable, but not for her. Not today.
“I heard about Debra.” His voice was surprisingly gentle. Not what she expected.
More tears flowed, no matter how hard she tried to stop them. She did not want to expose herself to him like this.
“Do you know what caused it?” he asked.
“There will be an autopsy.”
“I know. I want to hear your opinion.”
“Subdural hematoma.”
“Okay, I’m a little rusty on that one. Remind me.”
Jama didn’t even want to think about it. “She took some hits to the head, and it appears one of those injuries knocked her out, possibly fracturing her skull. The trauma tore some veins.”
“I heard she walked all the way to town,” Tyrell said. “How could she travel so far with that much damage?”
“An injury of that sort is unpredictable.” Jama could always talk about medicine, and some of the stiffness left her voice. “The blood vessels would have started bleeding, and kept bleeding after she woke up.”
“But she would have been in pain, right?”
“She complained of a bad headache, but she described it as a migraine. I doubted her explanation last night as soon as I saw her, but she refused treatment. Nothing Zelda or I did could convince her to cross the road with me. Her headache grew worse this morning, and with the excitement of the FBI coming for her, she grew agitated. The veins blew.”
“The ticking time bomb.”
She looked at him. “Exactly. I don’t know if the excitement this morning was what set it off or not, but once it happened, no one could save her.”
Tyrell stopped rocking and sat forward. “How long from the time she refused treatment to the time you heard Doriann scream?”
Jama looked at him, startled when she realized what he was getting at. He held her gaze, and she saw the fatigue in his eyes.
“Several minutes,” she said.
“So if Debra had agreed to go to the clinic with you, would you have heard the scream?”
Jama blinked as she thought of Debra lying on the bed, refusing treatment. Blast these tear ducts! She covered her face with her hand as the tears flowed.
“I couldn’t do anything to help her.”
Tyrell got up, opened the screen door of Zelda’s house and stepped inside. A few seconds later, he came back with a box of tissues. He set the box on her lap and returned to the rocker.
“Could you have done anything for her if you’d gotten to her sooner?” he asked.
Jama shook her head. “It’s a clinic, Tyrell, not a hospital. We don’t have the capabilities everybody seems to think we have.”
“Then Debra’s refusal to go to the clinic last night probably saved Doriann’s life. I understand she intervened a few times yesterday.”
Jama nodded. “She told me about it.”
“And Doriann told me.”
Jama looked up at him. “She knew?”
“Yes, and she told the FBI agents about it. Renee and I figured out who Doriann was talking about when we put our heads together this morning. Renee filled me in on your call to her. I think you guessed who Debra was when you saw her at Zelda’s last night.”
“She was never a killer.”
“No, I don’t think she was.”
Jama wiped her face with a tissue, then looked up to find Tyrell studying her. The blue of his eyes was deeper today, and the dark lashes shadowed them.
“Did you get much sleep last night?” he asked.
“Apparently not enough. Ruth dismissed me.”
“She’s a wise director, then. She understands the need for sleep.”
The words felt sharp and jagged to Jama, though he said them softly.
“Tyrell, it’s been a long twenty-four hours, and we’re both tired. Couldn’t we-”
“You could
have told me about Amy so much earlier.”
Jama stiffened. Here it came. Calm. She needed to remain calm. She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.
“I did tell you,” she said.
“Sooner.”
“Judging by your reaction last night, I don’t think that would have been wise.” She stood up. “If you don’t mind, I could use a walk.” She stepped from the side of the porch into the grass and strolled away, praying he wouldn’t follow.
Tyrell had seldom felt so much regret. He thought about his niece, who wouldn’t be alive now if not for Jama. About his father, who might not have made it to help in time.
Jama had tackled Clancy Reneker in the darkness like a mama bear, and Tyrell hadn’t even asked how bad the knife wound was. She’d assured everyone she would be okay, but her focus was on getting Doriann to treatment as soon as possible.
It was Jama’s way. It had been for years.
Tyrell closed his eyes and could almost read those passages of scripture against his eyelids this morning.
“‘Love is patient, love is kind,’” he whispered. “‘Love rejoices in the truth.’”
The truth was that he had searched his heart for many hours. He realized enough to know that the woman who had just walked away from him was not the confused young woman who had tried to drown the pain of her past with a few drinks.
He would not make excuses for Jama’s actions all those years ago any more than he would excuse his own disregard for the feelings of others, the times he’d run roughshod over a sibling’s wishes simply because he was the oldest brother.
He had some growing to do yet, and it seemed Jama was ahead of him. Maybe he should consider following in her footsteps. She’d had more experience swallowing her pride and searching out her own weaknesses. She’d made great strides toward becoming a whole person.
He got up and followed her. Whether she wanted to or not, they had some talking to do. And he would try not to disregard her wishes.
Unless that meant he couldn’t tell her what was on his mind this morning.
It amazed him how the light of day served to clear a person’s mind.
Jama strolled toward the back of Zelda’s property, where a small stream trickled over boulders. She needed to soak up some of the ambience this place offered. She needed to calm down.
Far too often, she had placed herself in Tyrell’s shoes, and realized it would be so hard for her to forgive the person who caused the death of a loved one. Of course, hadn’t she proven that? She had never completely forgiven herself.
Perhaps it was time. Hadn’t she been forgiven years ago by the Judge of all creation? Who was she to countermand an order from God?
She had just reached the stream, and allowed her senses to be filled with the sound of trickling water, the scent of fresh, moist earth and early spring flowers, when she heard another sound behind her. Footsteps.
She sighed. The man had no tact.
“How’s Zelda doing?” Tyrell fell into step with Jama.
“She’ll never be the same.”
“Did you tell her what Debra did to save Doriann?”
“Yes, I told her that her granddaughter was a hero, but that doesn’t bring Debra back, does it?” Jama looked up at him. “She made some mistakes in her life, and she died for those mistakes.”
“And Doriann lived. Maybe because of those very mistakes.”
Jama thought about that. And about Ruth’s words earlier. God ordered their lives.
“Tyrell, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not the best of company right now.”
“I think your company is great.”
“Well, then, I’m not up to an argument right now. I’m not even up to a discussion. I just need solitude.”
“Me, too. Let’s have some solitude together, okay?”
Jama turned and walked away. She couldn’t look at him. All the pain and regret of the past years welled up inside her.
The sharp edges of their situation overwhelmed her. Later, when she’d rested and was stronger, she would offer him another heartfelt apology. How was she going to face him-face his whole family-for two years?
“I was angry and hurt, Jama.” He followed her. “You expected it. You knew me well enough to realize what my initial reaction would be. I know I was hard on you. I’m sorry.”
“I remained a part of the family under false pretenses. You have nothing to apologize for. After this is over, after everything has settled down, I’ll tell the rest of the family and take whatever comes.”
He fell into step beside her. “What do you think will come?”
“You experienced it yourself last night. What do you think?”
“They’ll be hurt. It’s only natural. But I think they’re going to draw the same conclusion I did after a long talk with God.”
In spite of herself, Jama slowed her steps to match his.
He moved closer to her. She could feel him willing her to look up at him.
“What conclusion?” she asked.
“In the midst of my anger with you, I began to consider what you must have been feeling all this time. How you felt after telling me. How I’d hurt you. The horror you’ve lived with, the burden you’ve carried alone, because you’ve been abandoned so many times in your life, and you just didn’t think you could face it again.”
She turned and looked up at him. Tenderness in his eyes. Compassion.
“Jama, don’t you realize that our family doesn’t love you because you’re Amy’s friend. We love you because you’re you. Jama Keith.” He looked down, then away, almost as if he’d suddenly become shy-though there wasn’t a shy bone in Tyrell Mercer’s body. “Who I hope with all my heart will become Jama Mercer someday.”
She’d been holding her breath. She let it out. She felt more tears warm her cheeks. “Don’t you understand that this tragedy will always be between us?”
He reached up and touched the tears, caressed her face with his hand. “Don’t you realize you’re not the same Jama who made that disastrous mistake four and a half years ago? That tragedy was a pivotal point in your life. Just as you said, you sought God, and all this time you’ve been growing into the person He wants you to be. Your honesty with me proves it.”
“I’m still Jama. I’m not some perfect, mature saint.”
“Well, honey, you know I’m sure not one, either.” Another step closer, until she could feel his warmth. “I’m in this for the duration, Jama Sue. I love you with everything in me, and I have no doubts. The rest of the family will feel the same once they’ve worked through the tangles. I’ll stand beside you.”
She sank down onto a boulder beside the stream and stared into the water. She couldn’t think right now. She’d been so sure-
Tyrell cupped her chin in his hand and raised it until her eyes met his. Then he knelt beside her. “Jama, you told me last night that I was the only one for you. That there’d never been anybody else. Did you mean it?”
She nodded.
“You love me?” he asked.
“I love you.” Drat the tears!
“Well, I’m a little bit of a rebel at heart, too, and I disagree with Dad about long engagements. How long will you make me wait?”
She couldn’t speak. She could barely see him through the stupid tears. “Until everything’s out in the open. Until everyone in the family can forgive me.”
“That won’t take long.”
She closed her eyes. Caught the scent of flowers, heard the soothing trickle of the water and allowed herself to release the last of her fear.
She looked at him, reached for him. He engulfed her in his arms and kissed her, gently touching her lips, brushing his own lips across her tears, whispering his love into her ear.
“I love you with all my heart and soul, Jama Sue Keith. And I always will.”
Hannah Alexander
***
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A Killing Frost Page 28
