A Proper Young Lady (20 page)

With Mom asleep, I clean up the bathroom, then grab my phone from the boys’ room. I wander downstairs to the den, plop my fat butt on the couch, and lean back into the plush cushions. The babies bounce around for a minute before settling down to rest. I sweep a hand across my belly. Ellie kicks once. Patrick ignores me. “I sure hope you’re both praying for Dani to find a way for us to keep you guys. Otherwise you’ll have to stay with Joey and Greg.”

That gets a kick out of my Patrick.

I squirm around till I find a sweet spot and turn on my phone. The display says I missed several calls from a Richmond number. One from Cooper. One from a Florida number I don’t recognize. Tommy? Probably best not to return that one. I ignore the emails and click on a message notification.

<<
Dani—Fair mother of my bairns, I love you more than life itself.
 

<<
Dani—Were I a man, nothing would keep me from you.
 

<<
Dani—Yet I fear you’ll not take as husband the woman who fathered your children.
 

<<
Dani—So for you and ours, I shall henceforth be Daniel.
 

For a moment, my imagination sweeps half of me off into a wild dream—Daniel and me and our little ones. The rest of me panics. I pop up off the couch and run around the room. 

>>
Melanie—Please don’t cut off your breasts.
 

>>
Melanie—You’re a beautiful girl. Marry Ethan and be happy.
 

Half crazy, I collapse on the couch.
Me and the kids will be okay. But you’ve got to forget about us.
Heart still thundering, I get up and pace the room.
But if you marry Ethan I’ll never see you again. And you’ll never know our kids.
 

I punch Dani’s number, hold my breath, and wait for the girl to answer. The call goes straight to voice-mail. As soon as the phone beeps, I push the words out, afraid I’ll run out of courage and change my mind. “Dani, I love you the way you are. Don’t you dare change. We’ll find some way to be together and raise our kids without any stupid surgery. I’ll do whatever you want. Okay? Even marriage. Just please don’t do anything stupid! I love you.”

I hit disconnect. My muscles twitch so bad I dare not move. Not with my brain in knots. Not till my heart starts beating right again.

I just promised to marry the girl.

No way!

Chapter 22

Melanie

Days pass without any word from Dani. Texting her brings no reply. Calls go directly to the girl’s voice-mail. The first day, I figure maybe she’s pissed at me for—well, for whatever. 

You’d tell me if you got back with Ethan. Wouldn’t you?

Joey snatches a stuffed panda away from Greg and holds it just out of reach. The little guy screams like he’s gonna die. I push myself up off the couch and stroll toward the kitchen. “Hey, Greg. You want a bite of my ice cream?”

He stops wailing long enough to gaze up at me. His favorite toy forgotten, he nods.

Joey rolls his eyes. “Can I have some too?”

“Are you gonna stop tormenting your brother?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

I grab a cone from the freezer—one of those chocolate and peanut covered things—and peel off the wrapper. Greg tracks my every movement with his wide puppy eyes. He likes the outside best, so I let him take the first bite. Then his brother. 

The doorbell rings. Greg rushes out of the room. Joey takes one last nibble from the cone and runs after him. I stick the cone back into the freezer, wash my hands, and go to see who’s there.

Cooper stands on our front porch, short-sleeved in the cold wind. Muscles stretch tight around weary eyes. The guy looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

My gut melts into nausea, but I stare at him like a total moron.

“Danièle’s gone missing. I was hoping you’d know where she is.”

I step out of the way and wave him in. “Not here. Last I heard from her was, um, Wednesday.”

“You spoke with her?”

“No.” I was never much good at lies, and Cooper probably wouldn’t believe me anyhow. “She sent me some text messages after she went back to school.”

“She was here?”

“Yeah. Last weekend. On her motorcycle.”
Sorry, Dani. He was gonna find out anyhow.
 

“No!” The ex-Marine doesn’t even blink, but the tension in his voice reveals the depth of his anger. “How am I supposed to protect her if she doesn’t trust me?”

“She didn’t want her mom harassing her.”

“I’m not a spy for her mother. She should know that.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“How long has she been riding motorcycles?”

“A friend of mine taught her to ride his dirt bike last summer. The first time she drove on the streets, a cop nailed her—said she could go to jail. Her Uncle Randolph told her to get a license as soon as she got back home. So she bought a Shadow Spirit—a V-twin 750 that looks kinda like a Sportster.” 

“Randolph Welles?” Cooper’s muscles wind so tight I think maybe the dude’s gonna explode. He whips out his cell phone, stabs at it with a finger, and stomps out the door. Even half a block away, I can hear the Marine swearing at somebody. Glad it isn’t me.

Five or six minutes later, he rings the bell again. “Can we speak in private?”

“Yeah. Guess so.” I lead him into my bedroom and pull the door closed.

Cooper perches on the edge of my bed. “You love her?”

“Well, yeah. As a friend anyhow.”

“And more.” Not a question.

“She’s gonna marry Ethan, and I’m okay with that.”
I gotta be.
 

“Come back with me.”

“I don’t have any idea where she is.”

Somewhere in the back of his eyes the Marine begs me to tell him Dani is here in Atlanta—just out to buy tea. He’s failed somebody he dearly loves. And fears her dead. Or worse. His unshed tears flow down my cheeks and splash on the carpet.
She’s gotta be okay.
“What does Mrs. Welles think?” 

“The Welles are vacationing in Scotland. Somewhere without cellular service. Randolph’s trying to reach them.”

And Ethan?
“I’ll go pack, but we gotta wait till Fred and Beatrice get back. I promised to babysit so they could go out on a date.” 

The Marine looks like he’s gonna sweat impatience, but he nods.

* * * *

Freezing rain beats syncopation against the metal roof. Sleet bounces off my window panes. A tree scrapes limbs along the wall outside. Gusts whistle through the garden. Somewhere in my sleep, my imagination hears faint cries for help. Dani’s broken body lies in a pool of blood.

Somewhere. Out there. In the cold darkness.

Days pass in silence while I wait. If Dani went somewhere for surgery, she’d have let somebody know by now.

In the den below my room, the ancient grandfather clock chimes the hour. One of my babies stretches and wakes the other. My stomach growls. A bead of sweat rolls down my nose. When will I ever sleep through the night again?

In silence I pad to the elevator, ride downstairs, and find my way to the kitchen. I find two scones and a cup of milk waiting for me on the counter.

A muted thumping drifts in from the great room—something soft against one of the glass panels. 

Dani?
I push my snack into the microwave and stab at the minute button.
Warm milk and scones. Bless you, Jake.
No question, but the old man creates the best pastries ever. My stomach content again, I turn off the lights and head toward the elevator. 

Silence grips my robe and drags me to a stop. No rain. No wind. Not even a clock ticking. Only the throbbing of my heart in time with a soft bump in the night.

Can’t be the Welles—they’re still somewhere in Scotland. Jake and Cooper are probably asleep. So there’s only me. And whatever is making that sound. 

One thing I learned from horror movies—never investigate anything strange alone. Ever.
Besides, wouldn’t Cooper have searched out there?
 

But it might be Dani.
I run to the garden door to find only a broken branch thumping against the glass. 

She’s gotta be okay. But it’s been a week since her last text.

Maybe this is all a nightmare.
Heart thumping, I ride the elevator up and walk down the hallway to the girl’s bedroom. A lamp stands on one of the tables in her sitting area, so I ease the bedroom door open, walk over to a chair, and turn on the light. 

Her bed hasn’t been slept in.
Well, duh.
 

I yank back the covers, grab one of her pillows and hug it close.
Where are you, Dani?
 

Somewhere in the distance a banshee screams—death on the prowl. The
chuff chuff chuff
of its mighty wings passes low over the manor.  

A helicopter!
I run back toward my room, even though it’s probably only Dani’s parents. 

Cooper meets me at the doorway. “Pack for an overnight stay,” he says. “Be in the car pool in five minutes.”

Please tell me she’s okay.
I want to scream, but the air freezes in my lungs. 

“She’s alive.” The pain flowing from his eyes says she might not be much longer. “Go,” he says and sprints away.

I dump the contents of my tote on the floor—all the stuff I’ll never use again, like Dani’s medical power of attorney. I stare at the envelope like a total moron for several heartbeats before packing it away with my clothes and the other junk I
will
need. 

Bag over my shoulder, I stumble down the hallway to the elevator and pound on the call button. Downstairs finally, I rush—well, as fast as a pregnant woman ever goes—toward the car pool. 

Cooper grabs my hand and hauls me outside, across the blacktop to the chopper. As soon as we’re buckled in, the blades spin up, and we take off.

An hour later, our ride lands in a well-lit parking lot, and we climb into the back of a limo. In the quiet darkness, Cooper closes his hand over mine. “Danièle’s at Virginia Commonwealth University Hospital. They’re the best in the state.”

“A motorcycle wreck?”

“Yes. Traumatic brain injury. Fractured ribs.”

Alive—I cling to that hope and plead with the God who took away my dad. And maybe my mom soon. 

When the limo drops us off, I crane my neck to stare up at the building in front of us. Critical Care Hospital, the sign reads.

Cooper takes my bag, offers his hand, and leads me inside to the elevator. “Danièle’s on the eleventh floor—in Neuroscience Intensive Care—but I’m not certain they’ll let us see her until her parents arrive. And Randolph hasn’t been able to contact them.” 

I grab my bag from him and rummage through the side pockets till I find Dani’s power of attorney. “Doesn’t this count for something?”

He gives the paper a quick scan and—for the first time in days—smiles. 

Cooper shows the document to somebody at the nursing station. After a quiet conversation, a woman in blue scrubs leads us to a room in intensive care.

Chapter 23

Melanie

Dani lies on a bed in cold twilight, her back raised. White gauze wraps the girl’s head. A little clown hat perches there, tilted at a crazy angle, with a tube running out the top. Like they drilled a hole through her skull or something. Wires run from under the bandages to a monitor.

“I’ve seen worse. Much worse. She’ll be all right.” Cooper’s soft words hold no confidence.

“Yeah. Hope so.”

A display to the girl’s right lets out a comforting stream of clicks—one for every rise and fall of her chest—as the machine breathes for her. A smaller tube runs up her nose. Several burrow into her arms. One into her shoulder. Another couple go from under the sheets to containers hanging off the side of the bed. 

Propofol 40, Fentanyl 2, Mannitol—half a dozen little pumps add some drug or whatever to her system. Bags and bottles hang above them all. 

The screen on her left shows a graph of her heartbeat, and a new blood pressure every second. Who knows what all the other numbers mean? There’s even some little plastic gizmo clipped to her ear.

I walk to the girl’s side and squeeze her hand.
Why are they so puffy? God, please. You gotta help the girl. I’ll die if I lose her.
 

When I try to brush a lock of hair from her face, I discover that it ends in a melted clump.

A tremor runs up my arm. Somewhere deep inside, a door snaps shut, blocking out all my emotions. I take the girl’s hand again. “Dani, it’s me, Melanie. Cooper’s here, too. Your mom and dad are on their way.”

Nobody answers, but the clicks and beeps and flashing LEDs of the machines that care for her drone on.

I kiss her on the forehead. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Weird bruises discolor her eyelids near her nose, kinda like little butterfly wings.
You’re gonna need more makeup to cover those.
 

The quiet chatter of life-sustaining equipment whispers on in the twilight of intensive care. No day or night exists here. Only hope ticked out one heartbeat at a time. Days pass. Or only minutes. Who knows?

I jump when an alarm goes off. One of those stupid little pumps wails. In a few minutes, somebody ambles into the room, replaces the empty bag, and restores silence.

Cooper offers to get me bottled water and a candy bar, but my stomach won’t suffer them now.

I stand beside Dani—holding her hand—till my legs wobble. 

An hour in a hard plastic chair leaves me squirming at the pain in my butt.

A muscle in my abdomen twitches. I pace till my bladder screams, and then walk out of the room. Down the hallway, bright daylight streams through tall windows. I find a bathroom, relieve myself, wash my face, and wander back to Dani’s room.

In the cool darkness of intensive care, nothing has changed. The girl’s chest still rises and falls in time with a graph on the ventilator display. Her heart beats a regular rhythm—too fast—her pressure way too high. 

“Miss Fairbairn?” A woman stands in the doorway, wearing a white coat over her green scrubs.