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Authors: Patricia M. Clark

Tags: #thriller, #suspense, #mystery, #humor, #serial killer, #women sleuths, #private investigation

Worse Than Being Alone (6 page)

BOOK: Worse Than Being Alone
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His first act of the morning had always been jumping
out of bed. Of course, now when that thought entered his mind, he
realized those messages were no longer able to reach his legs and
never would again.

In the past his wife, Jennifer, repeatedly told him
he was hot. He felt his dark wavy hair and naturally tanned
complexion complemented her long blond hair and pale skin. His
expressive blue eyes, usually brimming with barely concealed joy,
now oozed fear and trepidation in a tearful mix that gently rolled
down his cheeks.

Brad desperately wanted to believe his injury
wouldn’t destroy his life, but his pain felt too fresh, so he
allowed his extreme sense of loss to dominate his thoughts. Denial,
bargaining, and anger swirled around him, drowning out the voices
urging him to believe he could overcome any obstacle.

Brad tried to go back to sleep, an easy escape from
his unpleasant thoughts. He wanted to dream he was whole again,
walking near the small lake behind his house. Unable to fall
asleep, he decided to return to that secret place in his mind he
had created to avoid reality. He looked at the huge trees in Forest
Park again and decided to fly to one of the upper branches in the
biggest tree, where he could perch and observe the world around
him. A large barn owl landed next to him, sharing the branch and
offering silent companionship.

 

Chapter Ten

Black clouds gathered in the distance and rain
threatened as Roni pulled onto Highway 64 on her way to
Barnes-Jewish Hospital to visit Brad Henry and his wife. Roni had
just ended a cell phone conversation with Brad’s rookie adjuster
who was already upset with Roni for refusing to make an emergency
room visit immediately after the fall.

Roni felt such encounters were in the same class as
ambulance chasing attorneys hanging around the emergency room
handing out cards. She preferred to phone relatives several days
later, explain her role, and set up a time to meet. Brad’s wife,
Jennifer, had agreed to meet Roni in the surgical intensive care
waiting room at 10 a.m.

Since Roni frequently traveled this route, she let
her mind wander, focusing on her friend Kitty’s restlessness.
Though it seemed better since her return from Alaska, Roni wondered
whether Kitty might run away again if she felt stressed.

The case management/investigative company they
started was doing well. They had joked about the inept private
investigators they came in contact with and decided they could do
better. They were right.

At peace with where life had taken her, Roni didn’t
totally understand Kitty’s issues and maybe more importantly,
wasn’t sure how to help her. Roni shook off her daydream, turned
right into the underground parking garage across from Barnes
Hospital, and parked near the escalator. She took the escalator up
and walked through the glass-enclosed bridge that connected the
garage to the main hospital.

The express elevators took her nonstop to the sixth
floor surgical intensive care unit. Roni stepped into the waiting
room and immediately spotted Jennifer Henry, easily identified
because she was far and away the most anxious relative in the
room.

It had been a week since Jennifer’s life had
irrevocably changed. Large green eyes almost completely obscured by
black circles of fatigue and apprehension had replaced any positive
emotions that might have lived there before. Probably already thin,
Jennifer Henry now had clothes hanging off her body as if she
hadn’t eaten since Brad fell.

Roni approached tentatively and said. “Mrs. Henry,
I’m Roni Edelin. I spoke with you on the phone.”


Oh, right,” Jennifer said as she
sprang out of her seat and extended her hand. “My husband’s
brother, Dave, said he talked to you. He’s a lawyer. He’ll be
helping us.”


Yes, I’ve worked with Dave
before,” Roni said. “Why don’t we sit?”


That’s what Dave said,” Jennifer
said as they sat down. “He said we could trust you; that you would
help us get through this. I really need your help. I feel like I’m
losing him.”

Huge tears rolled down Jennifer’s cheeks,
emphasizing her despair. Roni smiled, took her hand, and said.
“Tell me what’s going on and why you feel that way.”


He’s off in another world half
the time,” Jennifer said. “One that he likes a lot better than this
one right now.”


It’s going take all the courage
you can muster to get through this,” Roni said. “Right now all your
husband can see is what he’s lost. It’ll take awhile for him to
realize life might be different but it will go on. I’ll be here for
both of you every step of the way.”


You’ve worked with other
paraplegics?”


Quite a few over the years,” Roni
said. “I know you’re afraid and you have every right to be. I want
you to understand what I do, because it’s important you agree with
the goals. My job is to channel all his anger into a rehabilitation
program that will challenge him to be all that he can be. There are
going to be times when he’s probably going to hate me. I will not
allow him to indulge in a big pity party. Anything he is capable of
doing he will be expected to do. The biggest mistake you can make
is to start doing everything for him. How do you feel about
that?”


I don’t know,” Jennifer said
uncertainly. “Honestly, I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. I
can’t get him to talk to me.”


Good, I want you to be honest
with me,” Roni said. “Your husband is going through all those early
stages of grief. Brad needs support and hope. Sometime in the next
week or two, if you agree, he’ll be transferred to a rehab
facility. That’s where the real work begins. Are you on board with
that?”


Dave said to trust you so I
will,” Jennifer said.


Let’s get started,” Roni said. “I
think it’s time you introduced me to your husband.”

 

Chapter Eleven

After a long day of writing reports and making phone
calls, I scampered down my front hall, realizing I would have to
hurry to change my clothes so I wouldn’t be late for my rescheduled
first date with Jack Kyle. The online dating service I had joined
was finally going to pay off. One of the most promising matches the
computer had made, Jack Kyle responded to my e-mail and we had been
exchanging messages for weeks. We had mutually agreed to take
things to the next level and have dinner.

It had been a month since the
great cow stare-down. Roni believed the dinner had been a sort of
watershed event; she was convinced Billy might be very serious
about Marian. While I’m out with Jack, Roni was supposed to be
having a private dinner with Billy.

Shedding clothes as I made my way down the hall, I
heard multiple mewling sounds emanating from my closet. I walked
into the closet, turned the light on, and separated some of the
clothes hanging on the rack. Six brand new calico kittens were
trying to nudge each other out of the way for a better chance at
one of Harley’s engorged teats.


Wow, good job Harley,” I said as
I bent down and stroked the new mother. “Hm, maybe the best revenge
would be to take you and your new family back to the real Harley’s
farm. You could all hide in the barn. If just one of you managed to
drive him crazy, think what seven could accomplish.”

I changed clothes in record time, freshened my
make-up, and slipped heels on one foot at a time as I ran down the
hall. A pleasant scenario involving seven cats tormenting Harley
flashed through my mind as I grabbed my keys, jumped in the car,
and pulled away.

Random thoughts paraded through my
mind while I drove to the restaurant. I had been a member of
eLove.com for six months, but this was the first time I had agreed
to meet anyone. Jack Kyle had described himself as a divorced
middle-aged man looking for friendship. Nothing in our e-mail
exchanges had set off my freak alarm.

I replayed in my mind again the day that everything
came to a head and I fled to Alaska as I had at least a thousand
times over the last couple of years. That day remained intensely
liberating though riddled with a mother’s guilt, a perfect storm of
ambivalence.

It had snowed heavily, causing the roads to be slick
and dangerous. I received a frantic phone call from Ethan’s
principal, Mr. Ferguson. He demanded I come to pick up Ethan, who
had been involved in a fight in the gym. High school hadn’t changed
much, I thought as I pulled into the parking lot.

Ten minutes later, a suspended, sullen Ethan sat
beside me for the long, tense ride home. Seething and tired of
Ethan’s teenage mood swings, I gripped the steering wheel until my
knuckles turned white.

Finally formulating a question I hoped would not
fire the hormonal flames I asked. “What happened, Ethan?”


Why do you care?”


I’m your mother,” I shouted.
“It’s my job to care.”


You suck at your job.”

Trying to subdue my mounting rage I asked. “So, that
makes it OK for you to smoke pot and get into fights?”


Whatever,” he countered, putting
his i-pod ear plugs in his ears to block out further
dialogue.

I barely managed to keep the car on the road I was
so mad. Months and years of sucking it up, stifling my feelings
about my unhappy marriage to James and my inability to make him
understand I didn’t want to live in the country had pushed me to
the brink. Couple that with the seemingly endless arguments ahead
with Ethan and something just snapped.

Pulling the car to the side of the road, I reached
over and opened a startled Ethan’s door and said. “Get out,
Ethan.”


What?” Ethan asked as he pulled
the left earplug out. “What’s wrong? Why do I have to get
out?”


Just get out of the car,” I said.
“The walk will do you good. Maybe you won’t have so much energy for
fighting if you get some exercise.”


You’re kidding?” he asked,
somewhat meekly for once.


No, not kidding,” I said as I
pushed him out the door, pulled it shut, and steered the car back
on the road.

By the time a livid and more confused than usual
Ethan got home, I had packed and left. My terse, angry letter to
James and Ethan had been left on the kitchen table instead of
dinner.

All the changes in my life started with my parents’
sudden death in a car accident four years ago. That event set off a
complex chain of emotions and events that I was just now beginning
to fully understand. Their sudden demise snapped the chains that
had held me captive, causing me to question every aspect of my
life.

Nothing made sense after that. For me, it seemed
easier to get out as fast and go as far away as I could. I think I
just didn’t want anyone to talk me out of it, and I was convinced
my nine siblings would try to do just that. I’m sure they must have
thought I buried my sense of propriety with my parents, because I
began to shed my former life almost immediately.

James said it was grief because that was infinitely
better than actually taking responsibility for his alcoholism. I’m
sure Roni and Harley thought it was a mid-life crisis. Ethan never
said much, but as someone who was months away from his own escape
to college, I think he secretly understood, maybe better than
anyone else.

Alaska was the ultimate escape, an unconventional
place with a wild-west mentality that was perfect for someone like
me. Lots of people escape to Alaska and most of their stories
weren’t much different from mine. We were all running away from our
past, just trying to survive our present before moving on to our
future. I worked for an air ambulance company, flying from one
remote location to another, providing medical care to grateful
residents.

I functioned a lot more like a
doctor than a nurse, which was exhilarating and terrifying. I
performed medical procedures I had never been formally trained to
do. When you’re someone’s only chance, perspectives and rules
change. My call sign, of course, was Doc. Not too shabby for
someone who felt like a total failure in every other aspect of her
life. I learned a lot about medicine, people, and myself. Enough to
understand I had the power make my next life better. I was already
thinking of coming back when Roni called.

I forgot all of my past lives as I
pulled into the parking lot of Angelo’s West, a popular West County
restaurant that seemed crowded at the peak dinner hour. A parking
space proved elusive and I had to drive around the lot twice before
I found a spot.

The front door led into a huge atrium full of giant
plants that formed a path to the podium. A short line moved slowly
while I looked around furtively, hoping to spot an unattached male
at one of the tables near the front.

When I finally arrived at the podium, the blond
hostess, fake smile firmly in place, checked her list and said to
the cohort standing next to her. “Yes, Mr. Kyle is at table 12.
Carly will take you to your table.”


Thank you,” I said, following
Carly, feeling nervous as resurrected memories from previous blind
dates gone bad swirled through my mind.

Carly stopped at table 12. I smiled at Jack Kyle,
who stood and said. “You must be Kitty. Hi, I’m Jack.”

I extended my hand, which Jack shook as he motioned
for me to sit across from him in the booth and Carly fled.


I’m glad to meet you, Kitty,”
Jack said, gulping his martini as if it would provide the courage
he needed.


Me, too,” I said as an eager
waiter, wearing a sparkling nose ring, arrived to take our drink
orders.

BOOK: Worse Than Being Alone
12.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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