by Cass Sellars
Beautiful like a flower
The simple, typewritten note had been entered on the florist’s generic, all-occasion card and addressed simply to Davidson Properties–Human Resources. She took another moment to admire the bouquet before checking her watch and hurrying down to the parking lot. She had finished loading her car and pulled into traffic before making a call Sydney. She heard her voice mail pick up as she remembered that Syd had another meeting in Maclean.
“Hi, my love. Thank you. I adore you. I’m headed to CTI, see you tonight.”
At the future CTI Sales Building, Parker traded her heels for a more sensible pair of boots and began trudging over the muddy approach to the jobsite. A roll of blueprints tucked under one arm, she carried the hair-smashing hard hat she loathed under the other.
Terry Carver was leaning over a makeshift plywood desk and drawing exaggerated circles with a red pencil. The cacophony of distant saws and drills told her that the demo for the retrofit project was well on its way.
“Looking good, Terry.” Parker took in the nearly cleared space that would eventually house CacheTech’s sales and marketing departments.
“Getting there. Demo’s always the easy part. I do have a question for you while you’re here.” He tapped his red pencil on the papers in front of him. “The plans call for an open conference room in the back, but I have two support columns in the middle here.” He pointed to two dotted squares on the print. “If we have to jack in an I-beam over that kind of expanse to carry the load, it’s going to add thousands to this job, not to mention delay us a few weeks.”
Parker placed her armload of work documents onto the table and reluctantly set the hard hat over her hair. “Why don’t you show me, and then tell me what our options are?”
She followed him down a lengthy hall and back to the corner of the aging building. Sheetrock dust painted her once black pants with clouds of white chalk. The building was one of the first in the business park built in the late 1980s, so it had a long way to go before it melded with the modern style of the neighboring CTI headquarters tower. The location had been too convenient to pass up, so the company spent the money to do the retrofit before someone else snatched up the premium real estate. As they rounded the corner, Parker saw the reason for Terry’s concern.
“I’ve already ordered a twenty-two-foot table, Terry. If we tried to put it in here right now, we would hit that column dead center.” She turned and eyed the adjoining spaces that were already open. “Why can’t we flip it and use the other corner for my conference room and keep this for the offices?” She finished the question as a jackhammer began on the floor above them.
Terry leaned closer and yelled, “Because you’re the only person who can sweet-talk that snotty architect into being redirected. Since there’s already a beam on that side, it’s a completely logical option.”
Terry smiled ruefully, reminding Parker of the tumultuous relationship the foreman and the architect had forged over many years of projects.
“Well, if you’re asking me to talk to him, I will. Otherwise, it will be impossible to accommodate what CTI wants. Apparently, these weren’t noted correctly on the as-builts, so we have no choice but to make a change.”
“Make sure the change order comes from him and not my side,” Terry said emphatically, still yelling to be heard over the din.
“I’ll handle him, Terry. He’s not that bad.”
The jackhammer quieted, allowing for Terry’s reply at a normal volume, but his tone remained flat. “Yes, he is.” He managed a smile, conveying that he would try to be malleable in the face of an anticipated battle.
Parker heard a deafening roar engulf the building before vibrations from crumbling rock and crunching metal sent clouds of dust and rubble raining over the first floor.
Terry grabbed Parker’s arm and curved over her, moving them into the support of a doorway. A terrifying avalanche of debris fell around them, engulfing the space in a cloud of white. Parker folded her arms into her chest in an unconscious effort to make herself a smaller target and crouched in the corner Terry had forced her into.
She felt a heavy thud at her shoulder. A chunk of concrete smashed into Terry’s cheek as he attempted to shield them, and though he grunted in pain, he didn’t move away from her. The concrete chunk bounced off her upper back, and she winced, curling tighter against him. For what seemed like an eternity, Terry crouched above her. His weight at Parker’s back felt claustrophobic but she didn’t dare move. The noise finally settled into a disturbing hum. She remained frozen in place, waiting for some reassurance that it was really over.
The floors were now carpeted with pebble-sized chunks of powdery concrete mingled with a few larger sections scattered through the expanse. Several erratic fingers of twisted metal angled awkwardly from the ceiling where the rebar had been ripped from its place. The floor above the main hallway, where they had been standing only seconds before, had collapsed. Parker could see into the second level and out through the spaces where the windows would one day be. She shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if Terry hadn’t moved them.
She had no concept of how long they had been inside, but loud voices and yelled instructions were swirling past her. She felt Terry move away and pull at her shoulders, directing her to skirt the area that had collapsed. Sirens wailed from a distance as he attempted to rush her out of the way and toward the exit. She pulled back in order to get her own bearings and balance, suddenly needing to just stand on her own.
“We need to get out of here now!” Terry shouted despite the fact she stood next to him. She nodded, braced for another round of debris. She ran in a crouch while he pulled at the side injured by the falling concrete. His cheek sported a jagged gash, and muddy streaks of blood ran over his jaw. They finally reached the front lobby as firemen in full turnout gear clogged the entranceway.
“Everyone out?” A man carrying some claw-like tool looked at Terry. “How many more?”
“I had six on the second floor and one on three. Stairwells on the east end are the only egress from the upper levels.” Terry coughed as the rolling dust was worsened by the booted feet of the first responders.
“Go now. We’ll get them out.” He motioned outside before turning away from them.
“No argument here.” Parker felt for her keys in her pocket and headed for the clear air outside. She was covered in the gray soot billowing out of the building’s many glassless window openings. Parker removed the hard hat and chucked it into the grass. She imagined that her hair was half its normal color and a dusty mess below the reaches of the helmet. She fought the shaking of her hands and refused to succumb to the shock of what could have happened. A crowd from CTI headquarters stood outside, and numerous cell phones were raised, no doubt in video mode.
Parker looked over Terry’s ruddy complexion sifted with the gray dust. He took out a neon green bandana to wipe his face, offering it first to Parker. She shook her head but took it from his fingers.
“You have a serious gash here. Does it hurt?” Parker turned his chin, allowing the sun to illuminate his damaged skin. Years of unfettered exposure to the elements betrayed his forty-year-old face, making him seem much older.
“Parker, I’ve been doing this job for twenty years. I don’t even notice unless I see a body part on the ground.” Terry looked back at the building, clearly itching to go find his team.
“There’s a lovely visual. Is it okay if I dab it a little?” She found the cleanest part of the cloth and pressed it over his cheek. “Thanks for the assist back there. I have to admit, this is my first concrete storm.”
“Sure.” His voice was tense as he appraised his project. “I’m going to be up to my ass in questions and paperwork.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Terry. No one even knows what happened yet. Try not to worry.” She squeezed his shoulder gently as she attempted to reassure him, trying to ignore the throbbing of her own injury.
“Davidson will have my
ass when he knows one of his people ended up hurt.” He shook his head and stared apprehensively at the door.
“I got a bump on the shoulder and a serious dry-cleaning bill—not to worry. Quint will know you had no responsibility in this. So will everyone else because I’ll tell them.” Parker would make sure her boss knew it was just a freak accident.
Finally, they glimpsed firefighters as they began bringing out dusty, dirty workers they had lowered from the precarious second floor, none of them with even a scratch.
A filthy man still clutching a sledgehammer approached and spoke to Terry. “Apparently, we were just at the wrong place at the wrong time, boss. Chain reaction to Waterman’s jackhammer. We didn’t think it would cave like that.”
“Think we know we have a problem now.” Terry sighed and rubbed at his eyes.
“Yup. I’m going to say the answer is…not so good.” Terry’s worker coughed. “Hey, you should get your face checked out.”
“I told you.” Parker turned to look at him, concerned that the blood was still streaking down his cheek.
“In a minute. I want to talk to the guys first.” He walked to an assembly of his workers pouring water from thermoses over their faces.
By four p.m., the building had been officially locked down in preparation for OSHA and city inspectors to arrive. Parker sighed as yellow caution tape boasting the words “Do Not Enter” wound unevenly around the building like the ribbon on a questionable present. Her busy week would now be bathed in red tape and damage control. She had provided her statement so authorities could begin to decide whether the structure was safe or should be condemned. Parker cringed at the possibility.
Her arm had become ridiculously tight, and trying to stretch against the painful stiffness wasn’t doing anything to change it. As she walked to her car, she caught a black sports car in her periphery as it jerked into the fire lane. Parker recognized the image racing in her direction.
Sydney slammed to a stop, jumped out, and crushed Parker against her. Parker fought against the cringe-inducing pain in her shoulder as Sydney took in the filthy streaks covering her face.
“What the hell happened? Are you okay? I saw your car on the news, and then Taylor called me from CTI. What the hell?” Syd was visibly trying to steady her shallow breaths as she scanned Parker for injuries.
Parker offered a weary smile as she allowed Syd to move her behind the Audi. “The concrete floor in an upper hallway collapsed. The guys who were working up there think they hit a weak spot with a jackhammer. They’ll do density calculations on the existing materials and see what happened. The building’s old, so it may have been age or a problem from when it was built.”
“Where were you?” Sydney clearly wasn’t interested in anything other than Parker’s potential injuries.
“I was with Terry Carver in the back hall, and he managed to duck us into a doorway. He shielded us, mostly. I’m fine, love, really.” She attempted a grin, which Sydney ignored.
Syd’s expression suggested she wasn’t convinced. “Where are you hurt? Did you let them check you out?” She glanced back at the cluster of idling emergency vehicles including two ambulances.
“There wasn’t any need. I just took a chunk on the shoulder, and I might have a bruise. It hit Terry right in the face, poor guy. Everyone else is okay, thank goodness.” She glanced at the crowd staring back in their direction. “Quite a show for the CTI people, huh?”
Syd ignored her weak attempt to distract her and moved the lapels of her torn jacket from her neck, attempting to appraise the angry places on her skin. “Why does the universe keep reminding me that I could lose you in a second?” She dropped the statement absently as she moved Parker’s hair and pressed gently along Parker’s shoulder.
Parker looked guiltily at Syd who, only a few days ago, offered that as her biggest fear. “Nothing happened, love. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
Sydney let the ripped jacket fall to the ground.
“My ass. You’re not okay, Park. There’s blood and a pretty deep cut back here. Come over to the EMTs with me. You have to get this cleaned up before it gets infected.”
“What is it? I can’t see.” Parker tried to angle over her shoulder to see what Sydney looked so horrified by. Of course, she maintained the opinion that Sydney would fuss over a hangnail if Parker looked the least bit uncomfortable. Still, she couldn’t angle to look at the injury.
Sydney caught Parker’s face in both her hands. “Please, Parker. Humor me.”
Her anguished expression made Parker want to do anything to erase it from her face. Parker nodded and leaned gratefully against Sydney’s shoulder, suddenly exhausted. “Come meet Terry first. He’s the one who got us to a safe place today.” Sydney held Parker so tightly Parker was afraid she would might add another bruise, but if it reassured Syd, she would take a thousand bruises.
“Terry, how are you?” Parker squeezed his arm. The construction foreman sported a small butterfly bandage on his cheek; dried blood still streaked over his jaw.
“Hey, I’ll live to fight with the authorities for the rest of the week, right?” He offered her a crooked smirk.
“Terry Carver, I wanted you to meet my partner, Sydney Hyatt. I told her you were the one who got us to the safe zone in there.”
Terry looked at Sydney and then back toward Parker. “Partner?”
“Her girlfriend.” Sydney shook Terry’s limp hand. “Thank you for keeping her safe. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” Sydney began to move Parker toward the ambulance when the fire inspector started lobbing new questions in his direction.
“No sweat,” he called after them, still sporting a strange expression as he watched them walk away.
“I don’t think he knew you were a carpet muncher, my dear,” Syd whispered in Parker’s ear.
Parker slapped her stomach. “Classy, Hyatt.”
“I’m just saying that I think you might be starring in his naughty dreams later.” Sydney stopped her in front of the ambulance and swept her long hair away from the wound. “But luckily, I don’t believe he’ll be in yours.”
“You’re the only person in my dreams, love. Now, let’s get this over with so we can go home.”
Syd answered Parker’s phone when Jenny and Mia called, both reporting being glued to the news coverage. Parker grimaced as the EMT blotted disinfectant onto the abraded skin and taped a large square of gauze over the wound. Parker caught Terry staring at her oddly when Syd pulled her to her feet, lending credence to Syd’s characterization of him.
“You sure you can’t just leave your car, and I’ll bring you back in the morning?” Syd clearly wanted Parker safely with her.
“I’m sure. I want to go home, and I may even stay home and work tomorrow. I’ll call in a combat-recovery excuse.” She smiled.
“I’ll follow you. Stop if you’re hurting, okay?”
“We live twenty minutes from here. I’m fine, love.” Parker pulled against her when they stopped at her car, and Sydney opened the door.
“Hey, I just remembered. Thank you for the flowers today. They were beautiful.” Parker dropped heavily into the seat and started her car when Sydney grabbed the closing door.
“What flowers?” She folded onto her heels and stared at her.
“The lilies.” She gave Sydney a curious look. “Two dozen lilies came from Hinter’s Florist by the office.” She waited as if she expected Syd to cop to a joke. “You didn’t send them?”
“No, I didn’t send them.” Sydney was deadly serious and had that look Parker associated with her protective mode. “We need to talk when we get home, okay?”
Parker nodded, vaguely confused at the implication of a second anonymous offering inside of a week.
***
“Of course it’s weird, Syd. It’s just not criminal weird.” Mack spoke quietly as if not to be overheard in her office.
“I know it’s not criminal yet, Mack, but you would be freaking if this were Jenny, and you kno
w it.” Syd watched Parker’s taillights closely as she followed her in the waning afternoon light.
Mack sighed loudly. “You’re right, I would. I can’t do anything official, but I’ll check on a couple of things and call you back. Just don’t get crazy. She’s okay.”
“I can’t imagine what you mean, Foster. I’m the picture of cool.” Syd chuckled as she allowed emotions she didn’t feel to color her tone. She didn’t want Parker to hear the worry she felt. She disconnected as they pulled into the lot in front of their home and scanned the dark lawn surrounding the old warehouse buildings.
“Stop,” Parker said as if she could read Syd’s face like a large print child’s book. “This isn’t like Becky Weaver.”
Sydney struggled against the memories and the ever-present guilt. “I know. We’re good. Let’s go in.” Syd shifted her focus to the contents of Parker’s trunk. “What do you need?”
“Just my purse and my laptop bag. The rest I won’t need until the building is cleared.”
“And I guess you think I’ll let you go back in there? Crazy woman.” Syd shook her head, her delivery only half joking.
“Do you plan to roll me in bubble wrap and Styrofoam peanuts?” Parker grinned up at Syd, who was again holding her tightly around the waist.
“Well, not the peanuts, they make such a mess. I’m nothing if not practical. People can just visit you here every other Wednesday between two and five.” Syd punched the door code into the panel and replaced her arm around Parker’s body when she saw her stretch her neck awkwardly.
“That sounds suspiciously like prison, love.”
“Let’s call it protective custody, okay? I sound less crazy that way.” Syd decided she didn’t care how it sounded if it meant the woman she loved was out of harm’s way.
“If you say so.” Parker groaned when she sat on the bench in their room, and Syd removed her boots.
“As much as I want to fall into bed, I desperately need a shower. Feel like chaperoning me in there? You never know what I could get up to on my own.” Parker slid her palms up Sydney’s chest, running her lips softly over her collarbone.
