Eli was waiting for me in the hall. It took me a minute to spot him because there was so much traffic. Doctors, nurses, visitors, patients who could walk … on their own, or with crutches. Orderlies who were mopping or sweeping or pushing rolling bins of laundry.
“After we finish here, we’re getting some sleep,” Eli said, putting his big hand on my shoulder. He looked as tired as I felt.
“You’re right,” I said. “But first …” We went back to the desk at the entrance, and I asked where Rogelio was.
“Who?” Miss Mayhew shook her head. Her white starched cap was anchored so firm to her scalp that it didn’t wobble. “We haven’t admitted anyone by that name. I’d remember. We don’t get many Mexicans.” She was matter-of-fact about that. To give the woman credit, she checked the list of patients despite her doubt. But after, she looked up at us and shook her head again.
I was stunned.
Eli didn’t seem so surprised. “He must have been well enough to walk away on his own,” Eli said. “Miss Mayhew, we need to find the body of another friend. Where would we be able to view the dead?”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Nurse Mayhew said automatically. “The unclaimed deceased have been taken to Hutchison Funeral Home or Debenham’s Funeral Home. Here are the addresses.” She handed us two business cards. I didn’t know if it was funny or outrageous that the funeral homes had cards at the hospital desk, but at least it was convenient.
“Can you tell me if the bodies will be autopsied?” Eli said delicately. Miss Mayhew, a nurse but also a Dixie woman, might find this unseemly.
“I doubt it,” Miss Mayhew snapped, kind of angry, kind of shucking him off. “Sally has four doctors total. There are lots of the living to take care of before they can start looking at the dead.”
“Thanks so much for your help,” I said. I let Eli take my arm and lead me out of the hospital. We went down the steps and past the benches and bushes and flowerbeds. Everything was decorated here.
We turned right and began walking.
Eli said, “We need to talk. And how long has it been since you ate or drank anything?”
“I’m real thirsty.” I was trembling, which is one of the things that happens to me when I’m parched. It had been the longest day of my life and it wasn’t over yet.
“There,” Eli said, pointing to a sign that read BEVERLY’S RESTAURANT. The dim coolness of the place was welcome. It was quiet after the clamor of the hospital. A gray-haired woman in a flowered dress seated us and said, “Your waitress will be right here.” It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, and there were only two other customers having a quiet, sad talk. We could speak without being overheard.
“You’re thinking … what are you thinking?” I said, after the ancient waitress had brought our sodas and glasses full of ice. Eli called her back and asked her if they had pie. They did, banana cream or buttermilk. We got one piece of each. “You reckon Rogelio died? I didn’t think he was hurt bad enough.”
“He’s the kind of man who stands out,” Eli said. “Maybe he had treatment at the hospital but didn’t need a bed, since the place is so full right now.”
“Maybe he had bleeding in his brain? Or he was kidnapped right off the wagon? We could question the nurses in the men’s ward.” I was eating the banana cream pie. I couldn’t put myself into the right frame of mind to enjoy it a lot. But it was much better than going back to the hospital.
Eli made the buttermilk pie vanish. He yawned widely. “I need sleep,” he said, and he sounded utterly tired.
Once Eli had mentioned the word “sleep,” it was all I could think of. I had to make myself sit up in my chair and down my drink. It had chipped ice in it. It felt like heaven going down.
“We have to check the bodies,” Eli said, with great regret.
“Yeah.” We couldn’t wait on that.
We finished our drinks and set out for the funeral homes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The closest one, Debenham’s, was swamped with the dead. The men who worked there were completely overwhelmed.
One employee, a man about my age, was sitting on the front steps, his head in his hands. When we told him why we were there, he simply pointed to a gravel path leading around the building to the backyard. “They’re in the shed,” he said. “The refrigerator’s full of locals.” He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to think about us anymore, or anything else.
The Debenham’s people had tried to be respectful—but when you place twenty bodies in an area meant for four, it’s not possible to mind your manners. They’d piled the women to the left and the men to the right, which was … well-intentioned, best I could come up with.
There were fewer women. I recognized the old woman who’d been in our carriage when Maddy and I had shot the two young men. Wondered if her husband had survived. I also spotted the woman whose husband had been beating her. She wouldn’t get to enjoy being free of him.
Eli and I began looking through the men.
This was not the most unpleasant half hour I had ever spent, but I was glad I had a strong stomach.
I regretted my nice clothes more than ever. I had to take care not to get anything on my skirt. Eli couldn’t identify Jake, so I had to stay close while he moved the corpses around so I could see each one.
Neither Jake nor Rogelio had been brought to Debenham’s.
We left without talking to any of the staff. Aside from the one young man, I don’t believe anyone noted our presence or departure. There was an old pump in the backyard of the funeral home, and Eli held his hands under the water while I pulled the handle.
Hutchison Funeral Home was larger and fancier-looking than Debenham’s. The yard and the business itself teemed with people, a lot of them weeping. Parking in front had lost all order. Apparently most of the local victims’ bodies had landed here, families had already identified their own, and funeral arrangements had begun.
Hutchison had all hands on deck. Four men and two women in dark suits were moving from group to group being quiet and smooth. I liked that. I hoped the place was so busy our request to see the bodies would be automatically granted. But the man who glided over to us—he introduced himself as Donald Barton—was only persuaded to let me see the bodies after I told him I was the only one who could identify my brother, and my parents were desperate to learn his fate.
Donald Barton did not like my proposal, not one little bit. I thought we were going to have to knock him senseless in a quiet corner. Finally, the oldest woman employee, a white-headed stout lady dressed all in black, stopped by while he was arguing with me. She said, “Donald, if this lady wants to look for her brother, you must let her.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, with a lot of gratitude. “I appreciate it.”
Donald Barton wasn’t going to let us go by ourselves, though. First we toured the large ground-floor room normally used for the preparation of bodies. That room was full to capacity, held no one I recognized.
Like the first funeral home, Hutchison had parked the overflow in a detached building—their garage. Hearses had been pulled out, the bodies moved in.
Still grudgingly, Barton held open one of the wide doors. “If you don’t find your loved one here, we don’t have him,” he said with some satisfaction.
Eli thanked him. I couldn’t open my mouth.
These bodies were laid out in a less jumbled way, which was good. But each body had been covered with a sheet, which was going to make this take even longer. I was sagging on my feet.
I’d been just about praying Barton would leave us alone. Surely he had better things to do? But no. The man had decided it was his duty to draw away the cloth from each face in turn. It made me so aggravated I could hardly stop myself from smacking him. Maybe he hated Eli’s grigori vest. Maybe he thought I deserved to faint right by the bodies.
I could not oblige. I am not that good at pretending.
Rogelio was not among the dead (a relief and a puzzle), but we found Jake, finally.
He was still clothed. “Mr. Barton, this is my brother Jake,” I said, and I didn’t have to act being sad. “I need to take the contents of his pockets to my parents.” I looked at him expectantly.
Barton was trying to think of a reason not to help me. But he couldn’t come up with one. He carefully checked every single garment, handing each item he found to Eli.
Jake had much more money than I’d expected. It was a miracle no one had looted him. There were some receipts, too, looked like.
I said, “Mr. Barton, please check Jake’s boots. He had the habit of stowing things there.”
Barton looked disgusted, but he couldn’t think of a reason to deny us the boots. Those were not bloody at all.
“You were right,” Eli said to me after Barton silently handed him two items. There’d been an envelope in Jake’s right boot and a knife in Jake’s left.
Even if the envelope held a love letter from Jake’s boyfriend, we were to the good. Never hurts to have an extra knife.
Eli slid the money into one of his pockets, all the scraps of paper (including the envelope) in another. We would wait to read those. I hoped I’d get the answers to some questions.
“Mr. Barton, thanks so much,” I said. “I’ll let my family know, and they’ll be in touch about what to do with the body. This body is Jake Tutwiler’s.”
“Ma’am, they’d better call or wire soon,” Donald Barton advised me as he wrote Jake’s name in a little notebook. He tore out the page and tucked it in Jake’s shirt pocket, protruding a little. “You can tell this place has to be emptied out quick.”
“I understand.” I let Eli lead me away. I even leaned against him.
“I need to telegraph his boyfriend,” I said, once we were out of earshot. “Maddy said she introduced them, so she’ll be able to tell me how to do that. Why didn’t I get his name while we were at the hospital? I have to find out what happened to Rogelio. And I need to find that Ritter and Seeley.”
“We’ll do all of that, but not right now,” Eli said. “We need to eat a real meal, and we have to sleep.”
“I haven’t got much of an appetite.”
“Me either, but we need to eat, anyway.”
The dining room of our hotel was not yet ready for dinner, but they were able to bring us some soup and bread. Soup was not what I would have picked, considering the weather, but when it came I was glad of it. I needed the chicken and the vegetables, and the biscuits that came with it were real good. And the cold sweet tea. With ice. That was best of all.
In twenty minutes we were going slowly up the stairs, and then we were in our room. I was really, really glad to be away from the crowd. The whole day had bruised me, body and spirit.
I began unbuttoning my blouse, and then paused. Was it all right to undress in front of Eli? Was it right to assume we were comfortable with each other? Would he assume we were back on that footing?
At this moment I decided I just didn’t care. Without casting a glance his way, I took off my new clothes, hanging them and shaking them out, giving the underwear a quick rinse in the bathroom sink when I went in to wash my face and put on my nightgown. I had not had a nightgown since I was a child, and this one was real pretty, but I wasn’t in a mood to be pleased about it.
Though it was still light outside, Eli had drawn the curtains to dim the room. I pulled a string to make the fan turn. It whirred in a pleasant way, making just enough noise to blur the voices on the stairs and out the window. The minute I lay down, it all sounded far away. I felt the mattress move as Eli crawled in beside me.
“Go to sleep. We’re safe,” he said.
I took him at his word.
CHAPTER NINE
When I woke, early light was coming in around the curtains. I could just make out the outlines of the furniture. It was as cool as it was going to get. I slid out of bed and padded quietly into the bathroom, easing the door shut behind me. I bathed, and as I toweled off I thought, I should get dressed now.
I just couldn’t face all those underpinnings and a frock on top of it all. I pulled the nightgown over my head again. It was very thin and light. I climbed back into bed, trying to be stealthy, hoping I could sleep some more.
The sheet was pulled up to Eli’s waist. His broad shoulders were bare, and I could see all his tattoos. He’d added one since our trip. His braid had come undone, so his light hair was spread across his pillow. I had forgotten how lovely he was without his clothes. You thought he was gawky until he was naked. Then you could see how well he was put together.
I couldn’t help but remember another hotel room in Mexico. I pulled the sheet up a little and settled my head on my pillow. I told myself, real strictly, to sleep.
But it turned out Eli was awake too, and he had other ideas. He slid my way a couple of inches and put his arm around me. Then he left it up to me.
He was good about that.
It wasn’t much of a decision. The minute I’d seen Eli at the train wreck, I’d felt restless.
(I’d told myself not to assume Eli would feel the same way. I’d told myself that in Mexico, we’d been on the edge of dying every minute, which makes you ready to enjoy something, anything.)
After thinking all this, which took one shake of a lamb’s tail, I turned on my side to face Eli. That was all the encouragement he needed. He began working the nightgown up, his hands reacquainting themselves with me, and we kissed about a hundred times. To my astonishment, he said, “I missed you, Lizbeth,” so intently I couldn’t doubt he meant it.
It started out sleepy and tender, like a gentle reunion. But it turned into … forceful and exciting. I forgot how sore and bruised I was. Eli was really glad to be inside me, even with a condom on. He said “Lizbeth” in a hoarse, deep voice, like it was torn from inside him. He had strength and stamina. “Now,” he said, in the same voice. And that excited me so much I took off into my big moment, right before his. My body jerked, like it had a mind of its own, and I had to clamp my teeth over a moan. It seemed to last a long time, pleasure after pleasure.
I was panting like I’d finished a race as he slid out of me. We lay together in silence for a few peaceful moments.
“Lizbeth,” Eli said, his voice real quiet. “You good?”
“I think you could tell I was ‘good,’ ” I said, not able to hold back a big smile. “You sure were.” It was hard to say something so personal, especially something about sex, but I wanted to give credit where it was due.
Eli looked a little embarrassed, and a lot pleased.
I wondered if Eli would say something more about missing me, because that had really surprised the hell out of me. But if he thought about it, he decided against it. Which was probably for the best, because we had a job to do.
“Lizbeth,” he said ten minutes later, in an entirely different tone. He had showered and he was toweling off. I was brushing my teeth. I turned, raising my brows, since my mouth was busy.
Eli was looking at me silently. He couldn’t seem to go on with his sentence.
As the silence grew in the little room, I even thought of saying, Someday maybe we’ll see each other when we’re not working. But the differences between me and Eli made such a wide chasm, you couldn’t begin to reach across it. It was real silly, real stupid, to even let such a thought in my head.
Eli bent down to me and kissed my forehead, something my mother hadn’t even done when I’d been little. “What do you want to do first today?” he said. If he’d been going to say something different, he’d made up his mind not to.
There were things we had to do, he was right. And they were things I knew how to do.
I said, “First, we need to get Jake’s boyfriend’s name and address from Maddy. We got to send him a telegram about the body. Charlie’s family, too. Also, we need to go around the hotels to see if we spot the gunnie I met on the train, Sarah Byrne. Maybe she saw something while she sat by me on the grass. I got to talk to Harriet Ritter and Travis Seeley. And maybe spot Rogelio.” I had no other i
deas. I was counting on some cropping up. “What about you, you got a list?”
Eli looked kind of shifty, which he did when he wasn’t supposed to tell me everything. It was a timely reminder that Eli had an allegiance that trumped any other.
“First, we need to eat and we need some coffee,” Eli said.
So we ate breakfast at a table on the big screened-in porch: sliced peaches in cream, bacon, and pancakes. It was one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever had.
“Would you like some more coffee, Mrs. Savarov?” our waiter said. For a minute, I didn’t realize he was talking to me.
“Thanks, please pour me some,” I said after an awkward pause.
“And you, Mr. Savarov?”
Eli nodded. “Please.”
The waiter, a short man with gray hair cut close to his scalp, eyed Eli real closely. While the man poured our coffee, Eli put his hand over mine on the table.
I started to pull back, startled, but I remembered we were supposed to be married.
We had sure done some of the things married people do.
I didn’t know what to do with that idea—whether to laugh, or feel wicked.
I didn’t have to pick, though, really. I would always laugh. I didn’t have much respect for a God who would watch you in the bedroom and judge on that. If you weren’t hurting each other, and if neither of you was married to someone else, you were okay having sex. It was a free pleasure, in a world that didn’t have that many.
I managed to smile a little at Eli. He smiled right back, keeping his hand over mine. Mr. Mercer strolled through the tables, talking to guests. He noticed our hand-holding. So he had to see the rings. But we were not among the favored.
I was fine with that.
A young woman was trailing in Mercer’s wake, dark-haired and narrow-faced like him. A daughter, for sure. She was learning how to greet guests herself. We didn’t make her personal greeting list either, but she sure had some eyes for Eli. It was hard to tell from her staring if she liked what she saw or if she thought he’d sprout horns. I saw her speak to our waiter before she strolled back into the reception area.
A Longer Fall (Gunnie Rose) Page 7
