Zander Page 7

  “I know you were almost graduated from high school by the time I got put with Miss Ethel,” Zeke said. “She got me as a scrawny, scared, pissed off thirteen-year-old, but I remember you, Zander. You wouldn’t let anyone fuck with me. Miss Ethel was the first time I felt love and you were the first time anyone ever stuck up for me. Protected me. So, I guess what I’m saying is…if you need something…anything, you just have to ask. You were there for me and I want to be there for you.”

  The lump forming in his throat was becoming commonplace as his friends stepped up. Clearing his throat, he nodded, “I ‘preciate it, Zeke.”

  With that, they headed out to keep an eye on the crowd. Zeke stopped just before they left the hall to enter the bar and he shot him a questioning gaze.

  “Do you find yourself more nervous?” Zeke asked.

  “Nervous?”

  “Yeah. Here. You know, when you’re in the bar. Like looking out more for women to make sure we know who’s here and with who.”

  Nodding his head slowly, he replied, “Yeah. I always just wanted people to drink, pay their tabs, and not cause a ruckus. Now, I search faces, questioning everything I see.” Clapping Zeke on the shoulders, he said, “But that’s a good thing. Should’ve been what I was doing all along.”

  Stepping into the bar, he made the rounds of the entire room. Checking in with Roscoe at the door and seeing that Zeke had taken his position near the back, he went behind the bar.

  “No worries, boss,” Joe called out, entertaining a few women sitting at the bar. Charlene had the night off, but the crowd was light, so Joe had no problems keeping up with the orders.

  Lynn walked by, placing her hand lightly on his arm. “Doing okay, Zander?”

  He smiled as he nodded, stopping as it appeared she had more to say.

  “I was telling my husband about what happened. I had no idea my daughter was listening and I don’t think she heard much. But, she got the gist that my boss has a friend in the hospital with no friends to visit. She said she’d like to make a card and maybe we should visit and take her flowers.”

  Smiling again, he stared at his boots for a moment, warmth spreading throughout his body. Lifting his head, he said, “That’s really sweet, Lynn, but no way do you want your daughter seeing her injuries.”

  Wincing at the reminder, she nodded. “Well, tell you what…she can make a card, I’ll buy the flowers and we’ll get them to you to take.”

  Giving her shoulder a squeeze, he nodded, “That’d be great.”

  “You know, what you’re doing is making such a difference to that girl’s life.”

  Watching Lynn walk away, her tray tucked to her side as she headed to the bar, he took a deep breath before making his rounds of the bar once more. I hope that’s true.

  Light is trying to pierce the darkness, but a shroud blankets me. Warm. Slivers of light shine at the very edges but the darkness still presses in. I want to reach up to pull the blanket from my face, but I am unable to do so.

  It’s quiet…where is the voice that speaks softly to me? I’m so tired…tired of waiting…tired of the darkness…

  “Hey, Zan.”

  Zander smiled as he listened to the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. “Rafe. Good to hear from you.” Standing in his kitchen, he halted pouring milk into his cereal as he glanced at the clock. “Jesus, man, how early did you get up? It’s gotta be about four in the morning where you are.” Leaning his jean-clad hip against the counter, he relaxed, ready to listen to his friend’s explanation.

  Chuckling, Rafe replied, “Don’t sweat it. I haven’t actually gone to bed yet.”

  “You okay or working late?”

  “It was a late shoot. They wanted to get some shots in a nightclub, so we didn’t start until about ten last night and the shoot ended about three a.m. I just got back to the hotel, so I figured I’d give you a call.”

  Silence fell between them, not as comfortable as normal. Finally, Rafe said, “I hear you’re visiting every day.”

  “Is that what this call’s about? Busting my chops?”

  “No, no,” Rafe hurried. “I just…hell, man. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  Sighing, he said, “Sorry. You’re calling to check on me and I’m defensive. Yeah, I’m visiting every day. They still don’t know who she is—”

  “How the hell can she not be identified in this day and age?”

  “Seriously, I wondered the same thing. But, her prints weren’t in the system. No one has reported anyone missing to the police. Her purse was at the scene but her wallet, phone, and keys were missing. She must not have driven because no car was left in the lot or the surrounding streets. The police have gone around the neighborhood and to the taxi companies to see if anyone recognized her, but they only have a description they can use.”

  “Why the fuck don’t they take her picture around like in the movies?”

  “Because her face was beat to hell.”

  Zander heard a quick intake of breath. “Oh, fuck. Man, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t think. I’m really—”

  “Don’t gotta be sorry, Rafe. God knows I’m sorry enough for all of us.”

  “So, what’s your plan?”

  “For now, I’ll keep visiting and reading to her. The nurses say that it’s good for her to have someone to talk to her ‘cause she can probably hear voices, even if they don’t make a lot of sense. I sure as hell can’t talk for hours, so I read.”

  “The Abridged Classics, right?”

  “Uh…”

  Laughing, Rafe said, “You used to read from that every night to the rest of us. Miss Ethel barely got to tell us a story at bedtime ‘cause you were always reading. Best book ever.”

  Zander looked down at the large, old book lying on the end of his counter and his hand stretched out to caress the cover. The book had saved the lonely kid who finally learned to read and discovered words had the power to transport him anywhere. The worn edges had their own battle scars, as he had taken it to Afghanistan when in the Army.

  “Bet you surprised them,” Rafe laughed.

  Snorting, he thought of the relief nurse who had come in the other day, visibly stunned that he—large, rough, tatted—was reading a classic. “Yeah, I kind of think some of them figured I might only read comics or porn.”

  “Bigots,” Rafe declared.

  “Nah…just the way society is.” Silence fell again before he asked, “What about you?”

  “Living the high life, Zan—” Rafe started.

  “Rafe.” With that one, deeply-spoken word, Zander interrupted. “This is me. Cut the bullshit.”

  Heaving a sigh, Rafe amended, “Okay. Honestly? This is getting old. I get paid a lot of money to walk around, bare-chested or dressed to kill. I know it seems like the life anyone would want, but I swear I’m losing my roots.”

  “Why don’t you come home for a while? Take a break?”

  “I’m tied into a contract, but…well, I’ve been thinking about it as soon as this gig ends. I figure I could crash at Miss Ethel’s and help her some.”

  “When?”

  “It wouldn’t be for several months, but I’ve gotta take some time away. This life is pulling me down.”

  “Sounds good. You know we miss you,” Zander said, glad that with Miss Ethel’s guidance, none of her boys minded expressing their care for one another.

  “Listen, I gotta go get some sleep. Take care, Zan. And, since I know you’re on a mission, take care of the girl too.”

  With the support of his brothers, he felt his heart lighten. “You too,” he replied. “Take care of yourself, Rafe.”

  Disconnecting, he poured the milk into his cereal, ready to face the day.

  11

  “I wonder who is looking for you,” Zander said, holding Rosamond’s hand while standing over her bed, staring at her face.

  “Good morning,” Chloe called out, walking into the room, followed by Dr. Calhoun. Both smiled at him, moving to the other s
ide of the bed. Chloe stood at the computer, typing quickly while clicking through the chart.

  Wondering if he should step back, he figured they would kick him out if necessary. Dr. Calhoun carefully probed Rosamond’s head wounds before checking her other injured areas, talking in doctor-speak to Chloe.

  “Look, I know I’m not family but since there’s no one else here, can I ask how she’s doing?”

  Nodding slowly, Dr. Calhoun said, “What you see on the outside is mostly bruises, which will fade and heal. Of course, it is the internal injuries that we are concerned about. Her ruptured spleen was repaired with surgery and that appears to have been completely successful. Her kidneys did not rupture, but were severely bruised as well, and while blood in her urine was worrisome at first, it has now cleared.”

  Realizing he was gripping her fingers in a death grip, Zander forced his lungs to expand while loosening his tight hold on her hand. Rubbing her palm, he nodded toward Dr. Calhoun to continue.

  “The head injury is our biggest area of concern. On the plus side, her MRI shows little swelling now, no midline shift, nor any mass lesions. Another excellent factor is that she shows normal pupil reaction to light. But, of course, the longer she is unconscious, the more concerned we become. Patients who do not regain consciousness within a month of their injury are less likely to survive.”

  Zander visibly jerked and Dr. Calhoun quickly added, “But since we are in the early stages of her recovery, we are far away from that concern.”

  Trying to calm his breathing, though his words belied his nerves, he asked, “What will help?”

  The doctor’s kind gaze looked down at the still woman lying in the bed and, offering Zander a gentle smile, he said, “What you are doing is perfect. Talk to her. Read to her. Hold her hand. Any stimulation is good and helps the brain to heal...to come back to us.”

  Dr. Calhoun continued his examination and Zander reluctantly let go of her hand to walk over to the window. Twisting the blinds again, for maximum light on her bed while still keeping her face in the shadow, he looked down over the parking lot. A few minutes later, he heard the doctor’s footsteps retreat from the room before Chloe spoke.

  “The nurses are all so glad you’re here,” she said.

  He turned around to face her but had no response, so he just stood with his hands in his pockets.

  “Really, we are. It’s not that we wouldn’t care to spend time with her, but there’s so little time…” her voice trailed off.

  His gaze jumped to hers. “Don’t gotta explain,” he assured. “You run yourself ragged as it is.” Lifting his shoulders in a shrug as he walked back to Rosamond’s bedside, he said, “I’m not even sure why I’m here.”

  Chloe walked over and patted his shoulder, saying, “You know what? Don’t think about it too hard. Just be glad you’re here.” With that, she left the room.

  Settling into the chair, he noticed it had been changed. The hard, standard, hospital room chair was no longer beside her bed, a more comfortable, padded chair now in its place. Smiling at the kind gesture, he opened the book, flipping pages until finding the one he wanted.

  Taking her hand once more, he said, “How about Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn? I’ll bet you read that one in school, also.” With a last look at her unmoving face, he began to read.

  The sound is familiar. Comforting. Faraway. A deep, melodious cadence. Words, once more as familiar as the voice. Why can I not see where the voice comes from? Dark continues to blanket my world, but still….at the edges light peeks through. Do I want to look for the light? Or stay in the dark? I just want the words to keep coming.

  Zander loved the story, first hearing it from Miss Ethel and then from the many times he read it to his brothers. He grinned at the adventures, or rather the misadventures, memories of the antics the boys in Miss Ethel’s home could create. How on earth had she been so patient with all that they did? He remembered broken windows from baseballs hit errantly, games of football where some of her prize roses had been trampled.

  Shaking his head, he stopped reading for a moment, lost in the thoughts of his childhood once he landed in a safe place. Looking back down at the page, he read,

  “ ‘It was a dreadful thing to see. Human beings can be awful cruel to one another.’ ”

  Stumbling as he read that line, he quickly lifted his gaze back to Rosamond. The evidence of what cruel things had been done to her was glaringly obvious. Wincing at the pain she must have felt, he hoped unconsciousness came early in her assault.

  Leaning back in his chair, he thought about his time in Afghanistan. Infantry, he had seen his share of war. The cruelty inflicted from both sides still caused him to wake in sweat many nights. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he cleared his throat as he worked to clear his mind.

  Giving her hand a squeeze, he continued, his voice animated as he tried to read the dialect intended for the different characters. When Jim was reading Huck’s future, he said,

  “ ‘Sometimes you gwyne to git hurt, en sometimes you gwyne to git sick; but every time you's gwyne to git well agin.’

  “You hear that, Rosamond? If I could tell your future, that’s what I’d say also. That sometimes you’re gonna get hurt, but you’ll get well again.” Zander rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, leaned forward, and vowed, “I swear, I’ll protect you from now on.”

  He knew his brothers would call his promise a vow created from guilt. Maybe that’s where it first came from. But now? He had no idea what was happening, other than he wanted her to awaken and settle her blue eyes on him, beaming her gentle smile his way.

  He looked at the clock on the wall and knew his time was nearing an end. “I’ll read just a little more and then I’ve got to get to work. I wish I could just stay here all the time, but know I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”

  Reading for another half hour, he came to the place where Huck gives MaryJane one of the biggest compliments he could.

  “ ‘I don't want no better book than what your face is.’ ”

  Closing the book, Zander placed it in the chair before leaning over and taking both Rosamond’s hands in his. He knew how Huck felt. Since Miss Ethel taught him to read, books had been his salvation. Burying himself in the words of a story, he allowed himself to be transported all over the world. Sighing heavily, he stared at the still-swollen and battered face of the beauty lying before him, her hair now limp against the pillow. He reached up and gently soothed it away from her face, his fingertips drifting lightly over her cheek. Bending, he placed his lips against her forehead, feeling the warm skin under his.

  Holding the kiss for a moment, he whispered, “If I could just have you look at me, your face would be more precious than a book.”

  With a final squeeze of her hand, he turned and walked out of her room toward the elevator, missing the blink of her eyes before they closed once more.

  Something warm touched me…touched my hand…I want my fingers to hold on to whatever it was but nothing seems to work. There is still darkness but it’s not as frightening when I feel the warmth surrounding my hand. More words...deep…melodic. Words I recognize from somewhere familiar. Books…a story.

  I feel the brush of a touch on my face. A tingle begins where the touch ends. My face more precious than a book. The warmth spreads. I can feel it…almost enough to bring me out of the darkness.

  A flash of light as I struggle to see the cause of the warm touch. This time, when the darkness shrouds me, I am not afraid.

  Another bachelorette party. Dropping his head, Zander took a deep breath, remembering when he thought Rosamond was nothing more than part of a group of women having a good time getting drunk and dancing.

  Roscoe walked by and Zander caught his arm, saying, “Keep an eye on the women in the back. Make sure they have a ride when they’re ready to leave.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Making the rounds, he nodded at Lynn and the other servers as he moved toward the back
. Zeke had that section covered and, with a word to him, he circled toward the bar. Joe and Charlene were in full form, tossing bottles and keeping the crowd on the bar stools happy as they ordered more drinks and tipped well. Chuckling at their antics, he appreciated anything to keep the customers spending their money at Grimm’s.

  Hearing deep voices entering, he looked up to see Roscoe greeting Jayden, Jaxon, Asher, and Cael. Grinning, he walked over, hugging and back-slapping each one. “Got a bit of a crowd tonight, but there’re some tables by the wall. Come on over.”

  They settled in chairs, smiling at Lynn as she took their orders. “So, what do I owe the honor, guys?” Seeing the shifting gazes, he prompted, “Seriously?”

  “No, no,” Cael spoke quickly, lifting his hands up. “No one is here to rag on you. We just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  He held his eyes for a moment, satisfied Cael was telling the truth. “It’s all good. I know you think I’m going in too deep, but you gotta trust me when I say, I just want to be there for her as she is still in the hospital.”

  “And after?” Cael asked.

  “She wakes up and will go her own way. I’m not trying to be a hero…hell, it’s too late for that anyway considering how she left here. But, for now, I just feel sorry for her, that’s all.”

  “Just make sure to take care of yourself,” Jayden warned. “You won’t be any good to her if you wear out.”

  “Hell, in the Army, you remember what it was like. No sleep, bad food…this is nothing. I got it. Promise.”

  Lynn delivered the beers and Zander gladly steered the conversation to anything but Rosamond. How could they ever understand the feelings I have when I hold her hand?

  12

  “Goodness gracious, Alexander. Come in and sit down before you fall down.”

  Miss Ethel ushered him into her home, her thin hands fluttering around. Still in her robe, she led him slowly through the house to the kitchen. “Boy, you got here before I had a chance to get dressed, but don’t you mind that. I’ll take a visit anytime. Let me get some breakfast going.”