Deliver Me (37 page)

“In the shower,”
Monica answered. “Who are you?”

“That’s none of your
business, but you can tell me what the hell you’re doing in my man’s house.”

“Excuse me?”

The woman trailed her gaze from the top of Monica’s head to
the tips of her toes. “How dare he disrespect me, and with a piece of trash.
You tell Elijah he will hear from me,” she said before turning and stalking
down the driveway.

Monica stood,
suspended in disbelief as the woman stomped—in stilettos at that—to
a white BMW convertible. As she watched her peel out of the driveway, the
significance of the previous sixty seconds began to sink in.

Eli had another
woman.

An overwhelming
sense of betrayal gripped her stomach, nearly bringing her to her knees.

It was Patrick all over
again.

The time they had
shared, the love they had made; it had been a lie. He’d had another woman. He’d
made a fool of her, had used her like a piece of...trash, just like the woman
had said.

Monica forced back
the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She would not cry over this
man—
any
man. She’d prepared
herself for this, hadn’t she? She knew it would come eventually. But never had
she expected it to hurt so much.

Monica fumbled into
the living room where her clothes still lay scattered across the sofa and
hardwood floors. She gathered her slacks, sweater and underwear, and searched
around for her shoes.

“Is the pizza here
yet?”

Eli. He was out of
the shower.

She would be gone
before he set foot downstairs.

Monica tugged her shoes from under the upholstered chair and
slipped both onto her feet. She grabbed her purse, reached in and pulled out
her cell phone and punched in the numbers for directory assistance, instructing
them to send a cab to the major street corner nearest Eli’s house.

She closed the door
behind her without a backward glance.

It was the hardest
thing she’d ever had to do.

***

The answering
service picked up his call after the fifth ring. Eli closed the refrigerator
door with enough force to rattle the shelves within. He snatched a glass from
the cupboard and poured himself some orange juice.

He punched in the
numbers to Monica’s cell phone again.

Nothing.

He was trying hard
not to worry. She wasn’t on call tonight, but an ER doc was never really not on
call. It was the nature of their business.

Eli finished his
juice and picked up the phone again. He called the ER and was told Monica was
not scheduled to be on until tomorrow morning.

If she wasn’t at
home, wasn’t at the hospital, and wasn’t answering her cell phone, then just
where the hell was she?

He tried to stave
off the fear that was in danger of crippling him. He needed to focus, not lose
his head. He would call the police department of each district Monica had to
drive through to get to her apartment.

Wait. Monica couldn’t
drive to her apartment. Monica didn’t have a car. It was at the hospital, where
they left it when he surprised her earlier this afternoon.

What was going on?

Eli grabbed his
wallet and plucked out the card Nia had given him. It was late, but he didn’t
give a damn. This was important.

She answered on the
second ring.

“Nia, I’m sorry to
call so late, but I think something has happened to Monica.”

“I hope you can
explain it, because that heifer would not say two words to me.”

“You talked to her?”
Eli’s heart jumped to his throat.

“I talked. She didn’t.”

“When was this?”

“About five minutes
ago.”

Relief crashed over
his body like a tidal wave, making Eli weak. “Thank God,” Eli breathed. “Did
you get her on her cell?”

“No, at her
apartment. Look, I don’t know what’s going on but I’m not used to my best
friend giving me the cold shoulder. You remember my warning, don’t you?”

Despite his worry,
Eli managed to smile. “Yes, I remember very clearly.”

“Okay, now,” Nia
answered. “I’ll be there in a few days for the banquet. Don’t make me have to
work a beating into my schedule.”

“I made you a
promise,” Eli said, “You can keep your schedule open for more important things,
like eating.”

“Now you’re talking.
Tell that mother of yours to make the gumbo extra spicy.”

“I will,” Eli
answered. “Thanks Nia.”

“You just make sure
my girl is okay. I’ll see you in a few days.”

He disconnected and
immediately dialed Monica’s home number. Nia had just talked to her. If she was
home, why hadn’t she answered his call?

Eli felt his temperature
escalate with each ring. He hung up and debated whether to hop in the Rover and
drive over there.

He glanced at the
oval clock on the counter. It was after midnight. He had a C-Section scheduled
for seven A.M. He needed to get to bed. Getting answers to his questions would
have to wait until tomorrow. Monica would be at the hospital. She may be able
to run from his house, but she could not—
would
not—run from her responsibilities at work.

Leaving only the
light above his stove illuminated, Eli made sure the doors were locked and went
upstairs to bed.

The next morning, he was waiting at the nurse’s station in
Methodist Memorial’s ER. One of the nurses informed him that Monica was in with
a stab wound. She came out of emergency room one, shucking latex gloves from
her hands.

“Monica,” Eli
called. She looked over and headed in the other direction. He took off after
her. When he caught up with her, he grabbed her arm. Monica flung off his hand.
Turning to face him, her usually warm brown eyes were cold as ice.

“I’m working,” she
snapped and tried to turn away.

Eli caught her by
the elbow. “Monica, what the hell is the matter with you? Why did you leave
last night without saying anything? And why haven’t you answered my calls? I
called a dozen times last night.”

She looked down at
where his hand still held her elbow, but Eli refused to relinquish his hold.

“This isn’t working,”
she finally said.

“What isn’t working?”

“This. Me. You. This
whole dating thing.”

After the nightly
telephone calls the entire time he was in Mississippi? After the hours they
spent in bed yesterday?

“What do you mean it
‘isn’t working’? Everything about it works.” This was the closest he had ever
allowed a woman to get, and she thought it wasn’t working?

“For you maybe, but
not me. I didn’t realize you expected me to be one of several. That is one
thing I am not willing to do.” The double doors swung open and two paramedics
wheeled in a gurney with a large man strapped to it. “Now if you will excuse
me, I have work to do.”

For a minute, shock
had him rooted where he stood. It wasn’t until one of the nurses nudged him
with a crash cart that Eli was able to move.

He had no idea what
to make of the last few minutes—no, scratch that—of the last few
hours. Eli felt as though he was in some alternate universe. Everything seemed
out of whack. The Monica he had been with just a day before was nothing like
the woman who had just left him standing in the middle of the ER.

And what the hell
did she mean when she said he expected her to be one of several? Several what?

It made no sense.

The beeper on Eli’s
hip vibrated. He unclipped it and checked the reading. Damn. If he didn’t leave
right now he would be late for his scheduled C-section. Eli looked down the
corridor at the door where Monica had disappeared with the patient. He couldn’t
wait for her, but he would be back.

***

The day turned out
to be more hectic than Eli could have ever imagined. What were the odds of
delivering three sets of twins in the span of ten hours?

By the time he got
back to the ER Monica had already left. Without a second thought, he got in his
SUV and drove down to the French Quarter. He didn’t bother to call; she wouldn’t
have answered anyway.

Eli spotted Monica’s
Honda. He waited for a horse-drawn carriage to pass before he pulled up to the
curb and parked behind her car. His heart beat triple time as he jumped out and
headed for her building. Eli bounded up two steps at a time, making it to her
door in ten seconds flat.

“Monica, open up.”
He rapped on the door with his knuckles. “We need to talk.”

Nothing.

“Monica!” Eli
pounded harder. Someone down the hall opened a door, but he didn’t bother to
look back. His only concern was the woman behind this door, and getting an
explanation for her actions last night and this morning.

Eli could not fathom
what had gotten into her. The statement she’d made this morning continued to
whirl through his mind.

I didn’t realize you expected me to be one of
several
.

Since taking their relationship to a more serious level, Eli
had banished all other women from his mind and his life. He’d explained about
Tosha, and thank God, had not heard from Alicia in weeks. What made her think
he wanted her to be one of several…?
 

Eli knocked again.

He knew she was in
there. He pulled out his cell and called her. He heard the phone ringing from
outside the door, but she didn’t answer.

Maybe she was in the
shower. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

As Eli stood
outside, waiting impatiently to give Monica sufficient time to shower if, in
fact, that’s what she was doing, he allowed his mind to roam to some of the
other crises occupying his life right now.

Amanda Daniels, for
one. She had opened her eyes for a few minutes, but had slipped back into a
semi-conscious state.

Eli cursed the
Mississippi State legislature for their inability to resolve the insurance
situation. Not saying that Amanda would not have lost the same amount of blood
during delivery, but Eli would have felt better if he had been here. He had let
his patient down.

She did give birth
to a beautiful baby girl, though, and hopefully the words he’d softly spoken in
Amanda’s ear about holding her baby would penetrate the new mother’s
subconscious.

Eli looked at this
watch. If Monica were in the shower, she would be out by now. He pounded on the
door again.

“Monica, stop
ignoring me. Open this door.”

Nestled among the
plush throw pillows, Monica picked one up from the sofa and held it to her
chest, resting her chin on it. It took every bit of power she possessed not to
run to that door. She wanted so badly to open it.

God, had she not
learned anything?

How many signs had
she had that Patrick had been cheating on her? But she’d chosen to turn a blind
eye. With Eli there was no need to interpret any signs. The proof was smack dab
in front of her face—at his front door, as a matter of fact.

How could she have
been so stupid as to fall victim again to a lying, cheating man? The threat of
tears resurfaced, but Monica tamped them down. She would not shed so much as a
single tear.

Determination
setting her shoulders rigid, Monica rose and went into the kitchen. She tried
to ignore the knocking.

Her instinct was to
head for the freezer and the pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food Ice Cream,
but she opted for an apple and a handful of granola instead. She would not be
the typical grieving woman who, after a breakup, stuffed her face with junk
food and couldn’t fit into her jeans the next week. Oh, no. She would go to the
gym everyday, just to show Elijah Holmes exactly what he had lost by being a
two-timing asshole.

“Monica, stop
ignoring me. Open this door.”

If he didn’t stop
soon, someone was going to call the police. She didn’t want him to get himself
arrested.

Wait a minute. Why
should she care? Had he cared about her feelings?

Monica continued
peeling the skin from her apple, letting it fall into the sink. When she was
done, she cut the fruit and put it in a bowl, then scooped up the skin and
deposited it in the trashcan. She grabbed her bowl of cubed apple, sprinkled
the granola on top and mixed in a carton of French Vanilla fat free yogurt.

There, now that was
much healthier than Phish Food, though one teaspoonful of ice cream wouldn’t
hurt. Monica stopped at the freezer and retrieved the carton.

Eli hammered with
such force Monica was sure the door would have splintered if it were not made
of such solid wood. She ignored his pleas as she skimmed a spoonful of ice
cream, capped the container and returned it to the freezer.