Broken Wings (23 page)

“Where is he?” Carol asked as she jumped up from the couch.

“Gone,” Pamela said as she walked over to the couch and threw her body down on it.

“What do you mean gone?” Carol asked, looking perplexed.

“He left town a few days ago,” Pamela explained. “I ran into his landlady when I went to his place to look for him. She told me he had packed up, gave her three months’ rent, and never said a word about where he was going.”

“That’s it?” Carol asked, shouting.

Pamela felt her body begin to ache. She rubbed her hand over the back of her neck. “No, that’s not everything. She told me about a man who came to see Daniel Sunday evening. An attorney she recognized from television.”

“Bob?” Carol questioned, raising her eyebrows. “That bastard!”

“That’s what I thought, and then I went to Bob’s office.” She paused as Carol came over to the couch and sat down next to her. “Bob told me he had a private investigator check Daniel out. He says Daniel is some kind of con man who was out to use my sanctuary to swindle money out of wealthy, society types. Bob thinks Daniel would have eventually taken the money from our new patrons for himself.”

“And you believe him?” Carol cried out. “Bob would make up anything to keep you out of another man’s arms. That asshole has always been jealous of you.”

Pamela waved her hand at Carol. “I know that. Bob has never told the truth about anything as long as I have known him, but he knew things that Daniel had told me. I can’t disregard everything he said, but I can’t believe it, either.”

“What are you going to do?”

Pamela let her weary body melt into the couch. The whole drive home she had been asking herself that exact question.

“Nothing,” she grumbled. “I’m not going to do a damned thing.”

“But Daniel cares about you. If you ask me, he is in love with you as much as you are with him!” Carol declared as she jumped from the couch again.

“Carol, he’s gone. I don’t know where and I’m not about to spend money I do not have to try and find him. If he cared about me, he wouldn’t have left. So all I can assume is…” She paused as she felt a lump form in her throat. “All I can assume is that he never really cared for me in the first place.”

“So you’re going to just let him go?” Carol demanded in a loud voice.

Pamela gave her an exasperated sigh. “He let me go, Carol. He walked away.”

Carol did not appear convinced. She shook her head as she stared at Pamela. “None of this makes any sense. There is something else going on here. Something that Bob isn’t telling you and until you find out what’s going on, Pamie, you’ll never be able to just let him go.”

Pamela forced herself up from the couch. “Whatever it is, Daniel Phillips is not my problem anymore.”

Carol went to the desk and picked up her purse. “I don’t believe you. That guy got to you and you’re too stubborn to admit it,” Carol said as she walked toward the front door. “I have a gut feeling we haven’t heard the last of that man. And my gut feelings are never wrong.” Carol stepped outside, slamming the door behind her.

Pamela headed to the kitchen to make formula for the babies as Carol’s final words repeated in her head. Pamela hoped in fact that she had heard the last of Daniel. The sooner she could put her time with him behind her, the sooner she could get on with her life. The only problem was her life had been dramatically altered. She wasn’t the same woman after knowing Daniel. She feared that their short time together had changed her. From this moment forward, she would have to add another broken relationship to the pile that she carried around inside of her tattered heart.

The following morning, Pamela was sitting on her kitchen floor feeding her baby squirrels. She felt every bone in her body ache as she shifted again and again on the floor trying to find a comfortable position. She had slept very little the night before. Her thoughts kept returning to Daniel. In her mind, she replayed every moment they had spent together. She analyzed every word he had spoken, every smile, and every kiss, trying to determine whether or not his affection had actually been genuine. As the sunlight crept into her room at the break of day, she knew she was no closer to figuring out the truth. And as she sat on the floor and reflected on the night they had spent together, the sound of a car coming down the drive broke into her concentration.

As she walked over to the front door, she heard barking erupt from the driveway. When she stepped outside, she saw two pick-up trucks parked in front of her house. On the door of each truck was a logo of a paintbrush and the name “Al’s Painting.” Pamela examined the trucks, wondering how the two men inside had gotten so lost. She waved the dogs back to the porch and approached the trucks.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but we’re looking for Second Chance Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. Is this it?” a dark-skinned man asked from the cab of the first truck.

“Yes, this is Second Chance Wildlife,” Pamela replied. “I’m the owner, Pamela Wells. Can I help you guys?”

The dark-skinned man opened his door and climbed out of the cab. In his hand was a clipboard. He was dressed in white overalls, stained with a plethora of paint colors.

“I’m Chip Easton and that there is Miles,” he said, pointing to another man getting out of the second truck. “We’re from Al’s Painting. We came to complete the exterior painting on your house,” he told her.

Pamela stared at Chip for a moment before she spoke. “I don’t understand. You came out here to paint my house?”

The man glanced down at his clipboard. “That’s what is says here,” he announced, pointing to the clipboard. “Prime and paint exterior, paint on site, paid in full,” he added with a nod to his clipboard.

“Someone has already paid for this?” Pamela felt an uneasy sense of worry slowly climb up from the bottom of her feet. “Who paid for this?” she questioned.

Chip pulled his work order from the clipboard. “I don’t know, ma’am. I just get the slip with the address and instructions. If you want, you can call the office and ask Karen, our accountant, who paid the bill,” he said as he handed her a slip of white paper.

Pamela took the paper from the man and looked it over.

“So, ah,” Chip said, eyeing the house. “Where’s the paint?”

“It’s around the side of the house.” She pointed to her right.

Chip tipped his cap to her. “We’ll go ahead and get started then.” He walked toward the side of the house as Miles followed behind him.

She was climbing the porch steps reading through the work order again when Chip poked his head around the corner.

“Ma’am, do you know you got an owl in the tree over here?” he calmly said.

Pamela shook her head and smiled. “That’s Lester. He won’t hurt you.”

“All righty then,” Chip replied with a nod of his head.

Pamela was instantly struck by the memory of Daniel frozen to the ladder next to her house, afraid Lester would attack him. She thought back to his reaction and how the sweat had poured from his body. How his hands shook as he took the glass of water she had offered him.

“You can’t fake things like that,” she said out loud.

A twinge of doubt grabbed at her heart. Perhaps Bob was hiding something, but regardless of what had happened between the two men, she couldn’t understand why Daniel had not come to her. There had to be another explanation, but no matter the excuse, Pamela was not about to waste her precious resources trying to resolve the situation. She walked inside her house, grabbed her cell phone, and dialed the paint company’s office number that was printed at the top of the work order.

“Al’s Paintin’,” a woman’s raspy voice answered after the second ring.

“Ah, yes, this is Pamela Wells at the Second Chance Wildlife Rehabilitation Center in Folsom. Two of your workers just showed up here to finish painting my house and
—
”

“Is there a problem, Ms. Wells?’ the woman hastily asked.

“Well,” Pamela paused. “I was wondering if I could find out who paid for this work to be done. I mean I didn’t hire the men and I
—
”

“I’ll transfer you to Karen, Ms. Wells. She handles the books,” the woman reported, cutting her off again.

Within seconds there was ringing on the other end of the line.

“This is Karen,” a woman said in a frail voice.

“Karen, my name is Pamela Wells and I was
—
”

“Did the men show up at your place, Ms. Wells?” Karen asked, sounding concerned.

“Yes, they’re here, but I was just wondering…who paid for this work? I didn’t pay for it and I want to know who did.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand. Kind of a weird request anyway, if you ask me. Most people have us come out and get an estimate. This guy just called up, told us where to go, and paid over the phone by credit card for the entire job. No payment plan, no pay half now, half at the end. Just paid up front for the whole thing, no questions asked,” Karen admitted.

“Who paid?”

“I got the slip right here,” Karen said as Pamela heard her shuffling some papers around. “Daniel Phillips was the name on the credit card,” she reported.

“Did he say anything else about the job? Did he say why he was doing this for me?” Pamela anxiously asked. “Did he happen to say where he was or leave a phone number?”

“No, Ms. Wells, he never said nothin’ else to me. And I only got a business address from the man. A Phillips Exotic Imports in Bridgeport, Connecticut.”

Pamela stood for a moment, stunned, as she looked down at her cell phone.

“Can I do anything else for you, Ms. Wells?” Karen’s voice called out from the cell phone speaker.

“No,” Pamela answered, coming out of her stupor.
“
Thank you, Karen. You’ve been a great help.”

As she hung up with the painting company, someone knocked on Pamela’s door.

When she opened it, she found Chip standing there, paintbrush in hand. “Does this belong to you?” he asked as he looked down at his leg.

There, clinging to his leg like a child wanting attention was Rodney the raccoon.

Pamela pried the raccoon’s legs from around Chip’s calf. She picked Rodney up in her arms. “He’s very friendly,” she assured him.

“So I noticed,” Chip said with a smile. “Had a pet raccoon as a kid. They don’t bother me.”

“I’ll get him something to eat and then he should leave you guys alone,” she stated.

Chip nodded and turned away as Pamela shut the front door.

She placed a bowl of cereal on the floor in the kitchen and watched as Rodney sat down next to the bowl. He delicately picked up each and every piece of the sweet puffed corn and placed it in his mouth. After he was finished, he proceeded to tip the bowl over and push it around on the kitchen floor like a hockey puck.

“I thought we got rid of that one,” Carol commented as she walked in the front door. She was carrying two tall Starbucks cups in her hands. Rodney made a hasty retreat out the open front door before it shut closed. Carol looked over at Pamela. “You said you were going to stop feeding him,” she scolded.

“He started molesting one of the painters, so I had to feed him. Otherwise he’ll never leave them alone.”

“And why are there painters here?” Carol inquired. “I know you’re all gung ho about getting that extra money, but don’t you think you should consult with me before hiring painters?” Carol advised as she plopped the cups on the counter next to the sink.

“It’s wasn’t me,” Pamela confessed as she picked up Rodney’s empty bowl from the floor and carried it over to the sink. “Daniel sent the painters.”

Carol clapped her hands and shouted with glee. “I was right!”

Pamela turned to her and frowned. “I called the company this morning and wanted to know who had sent painters to my house. They told me it had been paid by credit card over the phone by one Daniel Phillips. I even asked the woman if he had said anything to her about me.” Pamela rolled her eyes. “You should have heard me. I sounded like a sixteen-year-old little twit.”

Carol’s face lit up. “That’s great!” she exclaimed.

“Which part? Me acting like a flustered teenager or Daniel paying for it all,” Pamela scoffed.

“See, he does care about you. Why would he go to such trouble to hire painters to come out and finish the job he started if he didn’t care about you?”

“I wouldn’t say he cared,” Pamela suggested as she finished rinsing off some dishes. “I think he felt guilty. That’s why he hired the painters.”

“Guilt is good,” Carol added with a nod of her head. “Guilt implies emotional connection and that means he can’t be a con man like Bob is asserting. If he were, he wouldn’t be shelling out money to fix up your house.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Pamela leaned her hip against the counter. “And there are a lot of things Daniel said and did that make me suspicious of Bob’s story.”

Carol picked up her Starbucks cup from the counter. “So, are we going to do anything about it?”

“No,” Pamela said firmly as she turned her attention back to the sink. “It’s over, Carol. I was up all night wondering why he didn’t come to me and tell me about his altercation with Bob, or why he felt he had to leave. I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering, so the only way to get on with my life is to forget about Daniel.”