On Broken Wings (10 page)

This part of the take I don't have to split with anyone.

There would be plenty of time to search for valuables later.

====

Chapter
10

After three weeks, it was no longer strange or disorienting for Christine to awaken in the peach bedroom, to writhe and stretch amid the bedclothes and prepare to face the day. Even with the blinds drawn, the east-facing window admitted enough slivers of morning light to awaken her naturally.

She could hear Louis moving around the kitchen before she opened the bedroom door. Spring had asserted itself, and the morning was warm. On impulse, she disdained the robe he had given her and went to join him in her briefs.

He was at the sink as she came in. He didn't turn. "Good morning. Not too much in the fridge, I'm afraid."

"That's okay, I'm not hungry."

"Chris, you will eat breakfast." He dried his hands. "I just don't know –" He had turned to face her. "Where's your robe?"

She shrugged. "It's not cold."

He strode from the room without looking at her. He returned with the robe and held it out to her with a wordless command in his eyes. She put it on.

"Don't do that again."

"Why not?"

His face passed through half a dozen variations on consternation and shock. "Chris, there are proprieties, there are
rules
, for Christ's sake! When you present yourself to a man naked it conveys a message! Hadn't that occurred to you?"

Red faced, she shook her head. She was half angry at him for reproving her, and half terrified that she might have offended him.

"Was there a message, Christine?"

She shook her head again and stared at the floor. The Nag came awake for the first time in many days.

There was, wasn't there? He treats you too well and you feel obligated, but he asks for nothing and takes nothing. You can feel the bill mounting, and you're afraid that when he presents it, it'll be beyond your ability to pay. You'd do damned near anything just for a hint at this point, wouldn't you?

As always, the disembodied voice in her skull was right on target. She fought to dispel the unseen advisor and reserve her attention for Louis. The Nag vanished, but the thought remained.

When was he going to tell her what he wanted from her? How awful must it be, that he was taking so long to get it out in the open? What would she do when he brought it forth?

He punctured her anguish with a sharp expulsion of breath. "Never mind, it's mostly my fault. For three weeks you've been living out of my closet. I should have taken care of it first thing, but I let myself get distracted. So we take care of it at once. School's out for today."

Her fears surged again. "What are we doing?"

"Shopping."

***

How the hell am I supposed to do this? I can hardly even pick out clothes for myself.

They drove in silence. Christine faced straight ahead the whole way, hands clasped in her lap. Incipient panic was visible on her face. Now that he had precipitated this adventure, Louis would have liked to reassure her that everything would be all right, if only he could reassure himself.

Albrecht's was busy for a Monday. The bustle of shoppers moving through the parking lot further amplified Louis's tardy misgivings. He did his best to put them aside. It didn't work.

I haven't even taken her out to a grocery store yet.

As he parked the truck, he turned to her and said, "Chris, will you wait here for me for about fifteen minutes, please? No wandering off? Just wait for me to come back?"

"Why?"

"I have to find someone and tell her you're coming. She's going to help us shop. This is going to be really special, and a few things won't be ready for us until I come back for you. Will you just wait here, please? And try not to be afraid?"

She nodded. He knew her stoicism for a pose intended to please him, but he tried not to show it. "I promise I'll come straight back." He slid out of the cab and sprinted for the doors. He did not look back. He did not want her to think he doubted her.

To his relief, Albrecht's women's department was not as busy as he'd feared. It was only a moment before he'd located and reached the office of the department head. She was a petite, meticulously groomed, and exceedingly attractive woman of perhaps forty, a little shorter than he even in her high heels, who carried herself with regal posture.

"Ma'am, I have a special request, and if you can't or won't oblige me, I'll understand."

Her expression was pleasant but noncommittal. "What is it that you need?"

He waved toward the door. "Out in my truck is a young woman who's been physically and emotionally maimed. Less than a month ago, a motorcycle accident ruined her face and nearly ended her life. She has no one and nothing. She needs clothes."

"And?"

"And if it meets with your approval and your schedule for the day, you and I are going to help her buy them."

"Could you please be more specific, Mr. -- ?"

"Redmond, Louis Redmond." He reached for his wallet. "Here, run this through your reader and hold onto it, would you please? We'll be needing it." He fumbled out a gold card.

Her expression dubious, she did as he asked. When she returned, a new note of respect had entered her voice.

"How does one acquire a hundred-thousand-dollar credit limit, Mr. Redmond? I've never seen one before."

"I have funds in escrow to secure it. May I assume that I'll have your assistance?"

He watched for an indication of assent, but she was still reserving judgement. "May I meet the young lady?"

"In a moment. Do you have a private room we can use for this? Her scars are very visible, and I don't want a lot of flinching passers-by."

"Certainly. We'll use this one. I'll have some privacy screens brought in. There is a fee, of course."

Relief crept over him. "Of course. Have you ever helped a child pick out clothes?"

"Yes, why?"

"I think this will be a lot like that. She has the body of a grown woman, but little sense of self. Whenever she says 'I' or 'me,' you can hear her straining. You and I have to guide her without being obvious."

"Just how old is she?"

Louis scowled. "I don't know, and she doesn't, either. My guess is about twenty-five, but I wouldn't bet the rent on it. She could be anything from twenty to thirty."

"Is it really that bad, Mr. Redmond?"

"Worse." He paused, wondering how much explanation would be right. "She was basically the chattel of a motorcycle gang for the past several years. I won't disturb your sleep by telling you what they did to her. Let's just say it did nothing for her opinion of herself."

She continued to listen like a detective listening for a false note in the description of a crime. He thought of Christine sitting alone in his truck, paralyzed with fright, not knowing what was about to happen to her, and his patience evaporated.

"I want you to bring her your best. Clothes appropriate to a very high-toned environment. Classics. Dresses, suits, high heels. Your best fabrics, silk, linen, like that. I need the use of your taste and judgment. A complete wardrobe, two weeks' worth of outfits without a trip to the cleaners. Consider the whole of that credit line to be available if we need it."

Her mouth dropped open. She studied his face at length. He kept his silence.

"You're a perceptive man, Mr. Redmond. And now, may I meet -- ?"

"Christine. I'll be bringing her momentarily. And thank you, Ms. -- ?"

"Davenport, Helen Davenport."

"I'll be right back." He was sprinting before he'd reached the door.

***

Louis didn't quite have to drag her, but if he hadn't had so tight a grip on her hand, Christine might have cut and run before they'd reached Albrecht's front doors. Every time another shopper came near, she flinched away, into Louis's familiar and comforting shape. She could not help noticing that a few of them flinched away from her as well.

The bustle of activity, the fabulous array of goods, the whirl of color and light in the great department store were enough to disorient her completely, if she allowed herself to notice it. Only a month ago, she would not have been allowed to enter. She clutched Louis's hand and tried not to see or hear anything or anyone.

He put an arm around her shoulders and led her into a large office, where a petite, beautiful woman wearing a pretty velvet suit rose from behind a desk to greet them with a warm smile.

"Christine, my name is Helen. Mr. Redmond tells me you'd like to see some new clothes."

As nice as Helen seemed, it was all Christine could do not to dive behind the curtains and hide. She turned to Louis, who gave her a nod and a squeeze of the hand.

"Yes, thank you, Ma'am."

Helen moved to her side and slipped an arm around her waist, pulled her away from Louis and guided her to a large three-paneled mirror at the side of the room. After positioning her new charge, Helen moved a little way off and studied Christine and her several reflections with intense but professional interest.

"You have a dramatic figure, dear, and good posture to show it off with. We've just received a line of skirt suits that most women can't carry well -- too severely cut -- but on you, I think they'd look excellent. Would you like to see one or two of them?"

Anxieties waning, Christine turned toward Helen and unleashed the devastation of her smile. Helen responded in kind, and they were off.

***

What had started with such trepidation on all fronts soon turned into a positive delight. Albrecht's women's department was as good as its reputation, and that day Helen Davenport did them proud. For Louis, it was a pleasure to watch her lead Christine through the range of choices they'd agreed upon, helping the frightened young woman to relax and to see herself as worthy of so much expense and attention. Soon Christine was enjoying herself, too.

Toward the end of the morning, as Christine retreated behind the privacy screens with a forest green velvet suit and high-heeled pumps much like Helen's own, the department manager took Louis by the arm and drew him aside.

"We have a lot left to cover." She held her voice to a low murmur. "You're well over three thousand dollars already."

He swallowed hard, then shrugged.

"She needs more foundations, hosiery, five or six more pairs of shoes. And she should see a manicurist at once. I can bring one in later today. What about makeup?"

"Maybe not today."

"There's something else. Do you have any other lady friends?"

He tensed. "No."

Her eyebrows went up. "Really? I can't imagine why. She needs to learn a few things about hygiene."

"Like shaving?" It hadn't occurred to him until that moment.

Lady, if you think I'm going to climb into the tub with her and show her how to shave her legs, you're nuts.

"Among other things. Do we have the day for this?"

He nodded. "Are you up to it?"

She grinned. "Watch my curve ball, slugger."

"You're not just up to it, you're into it, aren't you?"

The grin only became wider. "Aren't you?"

Christine emerged from behind the screens, looking vibrant and excited in the velvet suit. Helen exclaimed, "Chris, that's stunning on you, you have just the right figure for it. Leave it on, I know you'll be taking it. How would the two of you like to join me for lunch?"

***

Helen Davenport's condominium was beautiful and tasteful, the expression of a mature aesthetic sensibility in cool colors and Danish Modern furniture. She guided Louis and Christine into her dinette, where she bade them sit and be comfortable while she went to her larder. Within five minutes she had produced a cold collation of meats, cheeses, crackers and fruit, and had opened a bottle of chilled Rhine wine to go along with it. All three of them ate with gusto, and soon were very merry.

Louis had long wondered at the female tendency to giggle in company. Now he saw it at close range, and even participated a little himself. The cold sweet wine and the copious food loosened everyone's buttons. The two women, for all the difference in their ages, origins, and stations in life, could have been childhood friends.

They were picking at crumbs and sipping at the last driblets of the wine when Helen pushed back her chair and stretched.

"The thing about working in clothes that I'll never get used to is the heat. Management thinks we have to keep it high so customers trying things on won't get chilly, but the store help is fully dressed all the time, and we swelter."

Christine giggled. "I got hot trying things on, too."

"I know, and I've told them so a hundred times, but they don't listen to me. I need a bath. Care to join me, Chris?"

Louis had known it was coming, and was braced for it. He held his expression so rigid that his face threatened to crack and fall off.