Love Lies Bleeding (29 page)

After Anne left, softly closing the door behind her, Sam opened the pad and stared at the blank paper. Twiddling the pencil between her fingers, she tried to empty her mind of the awful sight she’d thought she’d seen. Anne was right. Her subconscious had been playing a nasty trick on her, but she wasn’t going to let it get away with it. She’d had enough of that when she’d first come out of the coma. And she wasn’t going through that torment again. She was better, stronger, she thought as her grip on the pencil relaxed. She’d forget about Blanche and everything would be fine.

The tickling sensation of drool running out of the corner of her mouth woke her. She wiped the side of her mouth. Man, she’d slept hard. She’d probably been snoring, too. Still, she thought, it was better to drool and snore than hallucinate about lying in bed with a corpse.

Reaching over, Sam turned on the nightstand light and glanced at the clock. It was past eleven—she vaguely remembered Anne coming in periodically to check on her, but she’d fallen back asleep each time. Wide-awake now, she sat up in bed and looked around the room. What was she going to do to kill time? Watching television would disturb Anne, and she figured she’d put her through enough for one day without interrupting her sleep. Reading was out of the question. She didn’t want any more tales of ghoulies and ghosties slipping into her head. She could try sketching. She’d fallen asleep without making a single mark.

Sam picked up the sketch pad and opened it. The page she’d been staring at before she’d fallen asleep wasn’t blank. The face of a woman looked up at her. Her heart hitched. She didn’t remember drawing this, but it was definitely her work. Another blackout?
Please, no,
she thought, fighting the urge to rip out the page and tear it into a thousand pieces.

Her gaze was drawn back to the drawing. The woman’s face wore a half smile as she sat, with her legs curled beneath her, on a grassy lawn. Sexuality oozed from every line of her body, from the way she held her head to the tilt of her shoulders. A profusion of flowers lay in her lap.

Sam’s eyes narrowed and she studied the flowers. There was something familiar about them. Pushing the pad off her lap, she suddenly remembered. She quietly left the bed and padded over to the door in her bare feet. Opening it, she peered into the hallway. The cabin was dark, and from across the hall, she could hear the rustling of bedcovers. Anne must be sleeping in her, Sam’s, room. Good, she thought as she stole out of the room. Reaching the kitchen, she eased the dead bolt back and unlocked the door. With a quick look over her shoulder, she stepped out onto the porch.

The rising moon hung above the pine trees and cast the yard in shadows. In the distance an owl hooted while Sam crept across the porch. Sitting on the top step, she leaned toward the bush that was growing there. The red blossoms seemed to glow with a light of their own as she bent and plucked one of the heavy stems. Cupping the crimson flowers, she raised them to her face and softly stroked them across her cheek while tears gathered in her eyes.

Love Lies Bleeding.

Chapter Twenty-six

A
nne heard the kitchen door lightly close and was on her feet immediately. On her way to the kitchen, she checked the guest bedroom. No Sam. No Roxy. She found the dog lying with her nose pressed up against the base of the door. With a soft whine, the dog lifted her head and her soft brown eyes seemed to implore Anne for help.

“Is she outside?” Anne whispered, moving the dog out of the way and opening the door. She expected her to follow, but Roxy plopped on the floor with a sigh and refused to budge.

Once outside, Anne saw Sam sitting on the top step, swaying from side to side in the moonlight. Dropping down next to her, she waited for Sam to speak, but she remained silent. Great, was she sleepwalking?

Finally Sam spoke. “See my plant?” Sam asked in a dreamy voice. “See how pretty it is?”

Anne decided to play along. “Yeah, I noticed. I thought it was dying but the rain last night brought it back.”

Sam stopped her swaying. “I planted it from seeds.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Her head bobbed. “Alice gave me some from her plants.” Sam giggled. “I didn’t think she would after Pumpkin tried to dig one up. Alice was so angry.”

“I didn’t think Alice ever got mad at her dogs.”

Sam’s gaze shot to Anne’s face. “Pumpkin isn’t Alice’s dog. She’s mine.”

“Your dog’s name is Roxy,” Anne said carefully.

“No, my dog’s name is Pumpkin,” Sam insisted in an even voice. “Ted bought him for me.” She gave Anne a wink. “Harley thinks I got him in a pet store.”

Damn it all to hell—she is sleepwalking and she thinks she’s Blanche.
Anne tried to stay calm, but inside she was scared. Very scared. The blow to the head had caused more damage than she thought. She had to get Sam to the hospital. She could have a seizure or a stroke.

She stood and gave Sam a reassuring smile. “Hey, what do you say we go for a drive?” she asked, reaching down.

Sam inched away from the outstretched hand. “No, I have to wait right here.”

“Why?”

Sam looked up at her with an expression that said,
Isn’t it obvious?
“Ted promised he’d come by tonight.”

“Ted?”

“Theodore Brighton the First,” Sam said proudly. “He’s crazy about me, you know.” She gave a happy laugh as she lifted her face to the sky. “What that man can do.” Lowering her face, she gave Anne a sly look. “You’d never know he’s on the downhill side of forty. A twenty-year-old would be lucky to keep up with him.”

When Anne didn’t comment, Sam pointed down the road. “You can’t tell anyone, but he pulls off right over there and flashes his lights.”

“Then you run out to meet him?”

Sam hugged her knees to her chest and grinned. “Sure do.”

Anne was losing her patience. She had to get this woman medical attention. Bending down, she made a grab for Sam’s arm. “Come on, Sam, let’s take a ride.”

Sam dodged her by rising to her feet. Moving past Anne, she paced to the far side of the porch. Anne noticed she was moving without a limp.

“I don’t know who Sam is,” she declared. “My name is Blanche.” She gave a short bark of laughter. “Terrible name, isn’t it? I don’t know why my ma couldn’t have named me something more mysterious . . . like Cassandra . . . instead of plain old Blanche.” She turned and cocked her head. “I don’t think it suits me at all, do you?”

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Sam turned with a wiggle of her hips and leaned against the railing. “I told you I can’t. Ted’s coming.”

“No, no, I don’t think he is.”

With a sigh, Sam straightened and turned. “You’re probably right.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “Isn’t that just like a man? Promises, promises, but they never come through.” She jerked her head toward the cabin. “Harley promised me the world, but look what I got—a stinking shack in the middle of nowhere.” She whirled, staring out at the empty road. “Ted has to take me away from this,” she cried. “Lordy, I don’t think I can stand another winter up here. Day after day cooped up with him.”

Anne had had enough. Striding across the porch, she grasped Sam’s arm and gave it a shake. “We’re going inside. Now.”

Sam’s posture suddenly changed. Her shoulders fell and she took one limping step forward. Her head whipped from side to side until her attention stopped on Anne. “What are you doing out here?”

Anne released her arm. “What are you?”

“I—uh—came out to look at that bush.”

“And then?”

Sam shrugged. “I guess I dozed off.”

“You don’t remember our conversation?”

“No.” Sam’s voice rose in panic. “What conversation?”

Anne slung her arm around Sam’s shoulders and guided her toward the door. She noticed Sam’s limp was more pronounced than it had been in days. Had she had some kind of a stroke?

When they entered the house, Roxy jumped to her feet and pressed her black nose into Sam’s palm. Kneeling, Sam brushed her face against the dog’s neck.

“I had another blackout, didn’t I?” she murmured, not lifting her head.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m calling the emergency room and taking you in.”

“No, please,” Sam cried in a desperate voice. “I’m okay. It’s Tuesday night—”

“Monday,” Anne said quietly.

Sam fluttered her hand nervously. “Okay, so it’s Monday. My name is Samantha Moore; I’m thirty-five years old,” she said, rattling off statistics. “See, I remember. I’m okay.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Please, don’t take me to the hospital.”

Anne’s heart broke for her. The Sam she’d seen the last couple of days had vanished, and the woman, kneeling on the floor and clutching her dog, needed help that was beyond Anne’s skills. She walked over to her and helped her to her feet.

“Sam,” she began gently, “I’m afraid your head injury is more serious than we thought. You must see a doctor.”

“Do you promise that you won’t let them keep me?”

“We’ll do whatever the doctor thinks best, and—”

Sam struggled away from her. “No.”

“Sam,” she said, laying it on the line, “during the blackout, or whatever it was, you thought you were Blanche.”

Sam’s eyes flared and she held up her hand, stopping Anne. “Wait.” She turned and fled down the hall.

Anne took the opportunity to grab the phone and quickly dial a number.

“Yeah?” Greg’s sleepy voice sounded in her ear.

“It’s Anne.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m at Sam’s and I think I’m going to need your help,” she whispered into the receiver. “Would you please come over right away?”

Not waiting for an answer, Anne disconnected before Sam caught her on the phone. A moment later, Sam came rushing into the kitchen, waving a piece of paper.

“Here. Take a look at this.” She held out the paper. “It’s Blanche.”

Anne stared down at the paper and remained silent.

“Don’t you get it?” Sam asked as she tapped at the sketch. “Blanche is holding a bouquet of Love Lies Bleeding.”

“You’re not making sense,” Anne replied, not trying to hide the weariness in her voice. “What does this prove?”

“It’s Blanche, I tell you,” she said as she furiously shook the paper in Anne’s face. “The woman from my dreams.”

“Sam—”

Anne broke off as Sam’s attention flew to the door then back to her. She saw the mistrust written on Sam’s face.

“Who did you call?”

Before Anne could answer, Greg appeared in the doorway. Roxy ran to him in delight and he paused to scratch her head. When he looked up, his eyes went first to Sam then to Anne. “What’s going on?”

“Greg,” Anne said calmly, “Sam had an accident this afternoon. She hit her head on a pylon at the dock and she needs to see a doctor.”

“No,” Sam exclaimed, “I did hit my head, but she thinks I’m nuts.” She rushed over to Greg and tugged on his sleeve. “She’s going to have me committed. You can’t let her do that.” She quickly gave him a garbled version of what had happened that afternoon and finished by waving the picture at him.

“Sam, calm down and let me see your sketch,” he said gently. He took the picture and studied it. “I was a kid, so I barely knew Blanche, but this does kind of look like the way I remember her.”

“See?” Sam threw Anne a triumphant look.

“But,” Greg continued, “whether or not this is a drawing of Blanche, you still need to see a doctor.”

Sam took two steps back. “You’re siding with her,” she cried. “I thought you were my friend.”

Greg stepped forward. “I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Sam, don’t be angry with Greg. He’s as worried about you as I am.” Anne stepped forward. “Please, let me take you to the hospital.”

Sam lowered her head. “What about Roxy?”

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Greg smiled at her. “I’ll take her home with me.” He placed the picture on the counter. “I’ll bring her back tomorrow.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, Sam, I promise. Now, will you go with Anne?”

“Just for them to check me out. I’m not staying,” she said with a hitch of her chin. Whirling, she went back to the bedroom to change.

After watching her leave, Anne lifted her hands and rubbed her face. “Thanks,” she breathed between her fingers.

“What do you think is wrong with her?”

Exhaling, Anne shook her head. “I don’t know. When I described her symptoms earlier, Dr. Douglas thought she’d be okay. He did say to watch her in case problems showed up later.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Seizures, confusion.” She looked back over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door. “She hasn’t had a seizure as far as I know, but she’s definitely confused.” Anne gnawed on her bottom lip for a second. “I’ll have to call her father.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s a mess and the last thing I need is Lawrence Moore trying to sue me for dereliction of duty.”

Anne paced the hospital corridor with long strides as she waited for the technician to finish Sam’s CAT scan. On admittance to the emergency room, Sam had sat silently and let Anne explain her symptoms to the nurse. Anne had been honest and described Sam’s confusion, her blackout, but she’d left out any references to Blanche. She stopped her pacing and took a slug of the bitter coffee from the Styrofoam cup she carried in her hand. She grimaced at the acidic taste. What was taking so long? She resumed her lonely walk. She’d called Lawrence Moore, but he hadn’t picked up. Unwilling to give too many details in a voice mail, she tried to sound reassuring while she explained that Sam had been taken to the hospital for tests. He hadn’t called back.

She drank the last of her coffee and tossed the cup in a wastepaper basket. Walking over to the window, she stared out at the parking lot. The image of Sam battered her heart. She’d seemed so small, so defenseless, as Anne had checked her in. Anne knew her actions had damaged the trust between them, but she’d had no choice. Hopefully the tests would show what had caused Sam’s aberrant behavior, and the prognosis would be something simple like bed rest. Whatever the result, Anne would do all she could to help her.

“Anne?”