Chapter 14
14
It’s a relief when Hank drops off the extra blankets and then disappears upstairs. The man may have saved my life, but I don’t feel comfortable around him.
There’s something about the way he looks at me—I don’t trust him. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s so damn big . And he has that frightening beard concealing half his face. It’s possible I’m being unfair to people with beards, but I always feel like they’re hiding something.
Right now, I’m starting to doubt if there are any good men out there at all besides my brother, but either way, it’s clear that Hank is not one of them. And the sooner I can get away from him, the better.
Polly comes down the stairs shortly after, shining another flashlight into the small basement room. She’s got my purse slung over her shoulder, and she’s got a bag of something else in her other hand. All I can think is that I hope she’s got some Tylenol in the bag.
“How are you doing?” she asks me.
“Terrible,” I say honestly.
I hate being in this basement. The windows are nearly blacked out with snow, and it feels a bit like I’m in a tomb. The room might be perfectly fine on a bright and sunny day, but it’s nothing short of terrifying when every piece of furniture is shrouded in shadows. I can’t believe I have to sleep here. All I want is to get to a hospital.
I push my hands against the mattress, trying desperately to get comfortable but only setting off another sickening wave of pain in my ankle. What are the consequences of not getting a fracture fixed right away? Does it mean that it will never heal right? What if I can’t walk right again after this? What if it needs to be cut off ?
I can’t think about that. I will survive this. Tuna and I will be fine.
Polly fishes around in the bag she brought and pulls out a bottle of Tylenol. “I’ll give you two of these. That should take the edge off.”
I highly doubt it, but it’s better than nothing.
She hands me my purse while she goes to the bathroom to fill up the glass she brought for water. I rifle around inside, dismayed to find that Dennis’s flask spilled a bit and my whole purse stinks of whiskey. My heart sinks further when I can’t locate my phone. I must’ve forgotten to put it in my purse after I tried to call for help. It’s probably all the way back in my car, which is buried under several feet of snow.
The idea of being stuck in this basement and not having access to my phone makes me very uncomfortable. I feel disconnected. But there’s nothing I can do. I’ll be out of here by the morning at least.
“Here you go!” Polly sings out as she emerges from the bathroom with a big glass of water and two pills in her palm.
Even though I don’t really believe it will help, I snatch the two tablets of Tylenol and swallow them with a big gulp of water. The meds might not relieve my pain, but the water feels really good sliding down my throat. I hadn’t even realized how thirsty I was. I end up gulping down the entire glass.
Polly smiles at me. “My, you were thirsty, weren’t you?”
“I guess I was.”
“Better?”
I don’t know how I could be when I swallowed the pills two seconds ago. “I could use a shot of whiskey,” I say.
Polly doesn’t quite smile back at my sorry attempt at a joke. I’m half tempted to chug from that flask in my purse just to ease the pain.
She reaches over to take the glass from me, and that’s when her sleeve slides back to reveal a deep red bruise on her wrist. The appearance of it is shocking. It’s the sort of angry bruise made by somebody clamping their hand around a wrist and squeezing as hard as they can. Polly notices me noticing the bruise and quickly pulls her sleeve back down, her face flushed.
Damn it. I knew Hank was a bad guy, and now I’ve got proof. That asshole beats his wife. How could he do that to her?
“I’m going to light some candles for you around the room.” Polly avoids my eyes as she speaks, clearly uncomfortable. “That way, you won’t have to use up the batteries in the flashlight.”
“Thank you.”
Like Hank, Polly appears to be in her late thirties or early forties. She is a bit too skinny for her frame, which makes me wonder if she gets enough to eat around here, and up close, the long braid running down her back looks dry and limp. Yet she moves around the room lighting candles with a determined efficiency, which reminds me of the sort of nurse I’d like to be someday.
How could her husband hurt her like that? I’ll have to try to help her when I get out of here. Of course, it’s not like I’m in any shape to help anybody right now. But maybe, somehow, we could help each other.
My thoughts are interrupted by a swift kick in the ribs. Tuna has woken up, and her foot is wedged firmly under my rib cage. Just when I thought I was as uncomfortable as I could possibly be.
Polly looks concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Fine…” I attempt to reposition Tuna’s wayward leg with my hand. “The baby just likes to kick me right in my ribs.”
“That just means she’s healthy.”
“Yes, but sometimes I wish she weren’t quite so healthy, you know?” I laugh weakly, although the sound dies on my lips when I see Polly’s expression. I make note of the fact that Polly is a no-nonsense type of nurse who doesn’t appreciate joking around when it comes to health issues. She’s a professional. “I just mean… This pregnancy has been so uncomfortable. You know what I mean.”
“Mm-hmm,” she says.
“Do you have children?”
“Oh, no,” she says. “It’s too busy for that right now. Maybe someday.”
I think of the giant fists of her husband and the bruises on her wrist. I wonder if she’s ever lost a pregnancy. Or more than one.
“I don’t blame you for waiting.” Tuna shifts in my belly, finally taking the pressure off my ribs. “Like I said, this wasn’t exactly planned. I guess I’m ridiculously fertile.”
I wish I weren’t quite so fertile. As much as I know I’ll love my baby once I hold her in my arms, this isn’t in any way how I planned to become a mother for the first time.
“Your husband must be excited though,” Polly says.
I almost tell her that I’m not married and that Tuna was the result of an unfortunate one-night stand. Or worse, that the baby’s father drugged and assaulted me. But what if she doesn’t believe me, the same way Jackson didn’t believe me? I don’t want this woman judging me like everyone else does. Just for tonight, I’m going to pretend I’m like everyone else. Married, with a loving husband who is excited to be having our first child together.
“Yes,” I say dully. “He’s very excited.”
She smiles at me. “What’s his name?”
Great. Now I have to come up with a name for my fake husband. “Jackson,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
I don’t know why I said that. I’m still furious at him for the way he treated me. The way he handled me.
“I bet he’s real handsome,” she remarks. “After all, you’re so pretty.”
I manage an uncomfortable smile, because right now, I feel the opposite of pretty. “I guess. I think he is at least.”
“What does he do for a living?”
Hmm, what sort of job should I give to my fake husband? May as well stick close to reality. “He’s a lawyer.”
“How wonderful! It’s a very stable career, perfect for supporting a family.”
“Yes. It’s… He’s great.”
Polly squints through the darkness at my legs. “Would you like a pillow under your legs? The bed usually elevates them, but that’s not going to happen with the power out.”
“Um…” It would feel good to have my legs higher up, but the thought of moving them makes me almost nauseous. “I don’t know…”
“They’re going to swell up quite a bit if you don’t.”
“Okay. Sure.”
Polly is very gentle about propping my legs up on a couple of pillows. It is intensely painful, but after she’s gotten me elevated, I do feel just a tiny bit better.
“So,” she says brightly as she fluffs my pillows, “where were you headed in this storm?”
I groan, angry at my own stupidity. “I was going to visit my brother. He’s a ski instructor upstate. I was supposed to leave earlier, before the snow got really bad.” I rifle around my bag one last time, hoping to find my phone stuffed in some pocket I didn’t check before. “He’s going to be worried sick when I don’t show up.”
“I’m sure the phones will be working by tomorrow.”
I inhale sharply, taking in the vanilla scent of the candles. It reminds me vaguely of Simon’s cologne, which makes me cringe. “Yeah…”
She frowns at me. “Have you eaten anything? Are you hungry?”
A minute ago, I would have said absolutely not. But now that I am a little more comfortable in the bed, an empty gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach gets my attention. I’m hungry, Mama! When are we eating? “Well…I don’t want to put you out…”
“It’s no trouble! I’m not going to let you starve.” There’s a determined look in her eyes when she says that, which makes me wonder if her husband might feel differently on the matter. “I could fix you a sandwich.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“Of course. What would you like?”
All at once, I’m at the point where I could just about eat dirt off the floor. “Anything is fine. A sandwich, cold cuts, whatever.”
Polly stiffens. “You shouldn’t eat cold cuts during pregnancy. You could get a listeria infection that could kill the baby.”
I knew that. Of course I knew that. But with all the horror of the last several hours, I just plain forgot. “Right. Of course. What about…tuna fish?” Even now, I’m still craving tuna.
She frowns. “Tuna has mercury .”
“Yes, but my doctor said a little bit is okay…”
“Okay, I guess so,” Polly says, but she sounds a bit disappointed, which makes me feel a stab of guilt. As a nurse, she’s trying to give me advice for the sake of my baby. But a can of tuna should be fine—my doctor said so.
I hesitate. “Also…”
Polly raises her eyebrows. “Yes?”
“Would you bring it down to me, not Hank?” I smile apologetically. “He…he makes me a little nervous.”
For a moment, I worry I’ve said the wrong thing. I have surely insulted Polly. Then again, she has to realize that her husband is terrifying. And from the looks of her wrist, he’s got a temper too. I won’t be here long, but I want to spend as little time as possible with that man.
Thankfully, she nods in understanding. She gets it. “No problem.”
I let out a breath. This is going to be okay. I’ll spend the night here, and then they’ll take me to the hospital. The doctors will fix my ankle, and everything will be fine.
As Polly goes up the steps to make my sandwich, I rummage around in my purse a little more. My wallet is in there at least, as well as my credit cards—although they are all maxed out anyway. But as I search the depth of my handbag, I notice one other thing that’s missing.
My pepper spray.