Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Noelle
"Tara, those two guys are back."
Shahruk from the grocery store next door poked his head in, worry etched across his weathered face. He was a local, his words thick with accent.
I looked up and, sure enough, there were the same two thugs from last week standing by my door, cigarettes dangling from their lips as they surveyed my shop with obvious malice.
"I know. Thanks, Shahruk." I nodded at him.
"Want me to get the chief? Chadon will be here quick with his men." He lowered his voice. "He'll deal with these punks for sure."
"No need. I've troubled him enough already. I'll handle this myself."
Shahruk gave me a dubious look but eventually shook his head and left. He never hid his wariness of outsiders—including me, the "Tara Coleman" who'd appeared out of nowhere two years ago.
I took a deep breath and walked to the door, watching the wooden shop sign sway gently in the sea breeze.
"Can I help you?" I kept my voice steady.
"Hey there, gorgeous." The blonde thug blew smoke rings. "Seems like last time wasn't clear enough."
"This street's our territory. You know the rules?" The one with the nose ring sneered, his scar looking particularly menacing.
"Niaube doesn't have those kinds of rules."
"We're not locals." The blonde grinned and stepped inside, reaching for a painting in the window display. "We're here to teach you the rules."
He walked in and reached for one of the paintings in the window display.
"Don't touch!" I blocked him.
"Oh, feisty." He shoved me aside. "Be smart about this. Pay up. Otherwise... these crappy paintings look pretty expensive."
"Otherwise what?"
Lorenzo's voice came from the doorway, his expression dark.
"Lorenzo!" I sighed with relief.
"Scarface again." The blonde scoffed. "Want another beating?"
"I suggest you leave now." Lorenzo cracked his knuckles as he stepped inside. "Or you won't like what comes next."
"What comes next?" The nose ring guy laughed. "Just you against both of us?"
Lorenzo didn't waste words. His fist connected squarely with the blonde's face.
"Shit!"
Both thugs rushed him immediately.
I ducked behind the counter, clutching Leo tight. The baby's cries were drowned out by the sounds of fighting—fists hitting flesh, furniture crashing, and curses flying.
"Get lost!" Lorenzo roared. "Let me see you again, and you're going straight to lockup!"
The two thugs stumbled out, clutching their wounds in defeat.
"Tara, are you okay?" Lorenzo walked over, fresh scratches on his face and a split lip.
"I'm fine..." I looked at his injuries. "You're hurt..."
"Just scratches." He wiped away the blood dismissively. "They shouldn't bother you again."
"Thank you, Lorenzo."
To my surprise, not only did those two thugs never return, but all the other troublemakers in town mysteriously vanished as well.
"Shahruk," I couldn't help asking one day, "where did those thugs go?"
"No idea," he scratched his head. "Heard they left town."
"Just like that?"
"Who knows." He shrugged. "Maybe Chadon warned them off."
"Maybe."
But something still felt off.
A few days later, during a torrential downpour, water started leaking through the roof cracks again.
"Damn it..." I grabbed a pot to catch the drips. "Leaking again..."
After inspecting it the next day, Lorenzo's expression was grim. "The crack's too big. You need a professional team to redo the waterproofing."
"But..." I hesitated. "Professional repairs are so expensive..."
"About three thousand dollars. I've got some work lined up, money's decent right now. I can cover it for you."
"No." I shook my head firmly. "Lorenzo, you've already done enough for me. I'll figure it out myself."
"But Tara—"
"Really, no." I insisted. "I'll save up some money and fix it later."
Lorenzo sighed in resignation.
However, the next afternoon, a truck marked "Bay Roofing" pulled up in front of my house.
"Excuse me, is this Ms. Coleman's residence?" the lead worker called out loudly.
"Yes... that's me."
"Perfect." He pulled out a crumpled flyer. "Ma'am, we're running a raffle promotion. Your house was randomly selected for free repair service."
"A raffle?" I didn't remember entering any raffle.
"Yes, we randomly selected ten households. Here's the company documentation, take a look."
I examined it. The company documents he showed looked legitimate enough.
"Well, thank you then."
"Our pleasure!"
The repair crew was professional and efficient, completely solving the problem in just one afternoon.
Before leaving, the lead worker said, "Ms. Coleman, this roof should stay good for at least three years."
"I really can't thank you enough..."
"Just doing our job!"
Watching the truck drive away, I couldn't help but wonder. Could luck really be this convenient?
Strange things kept happening over the following days.
Every morning, a fresh bouquet of roses appeared at my shop door—no card, no sign of who left them.
The gallery's door lock broke, and the next day a self-proclaimed "new locksmith in town" showed up offering free replacement.
Even the usually cold supermarket owner suddenly greeted me with smiles, calling me a "special customer" and giving me fifty percent off.
"Here's your discount, Ms. Coleman." She handed me the receipt with an unsettlingly genuine smile.
"Thanks... but I don't remember signing up for membership."
"It's the boss's promotion," she said vaguely. "You're lucky."
Walking home with my shopping bags, unease spread through my chest.
Back home, I closed the shop early and started organizing a new shipment of handmade ceramics. These were custom pieces from an artist friend in Portland—each one delicate and requiring careful placement.
Leo slept peacefully in his cradle, cheeks rosy.
As I unpacked, the dust that stirred up triggered a familiar tightness in my chest.
"Cough, cough..." I gripped the shelf as breathing became difficult.
My asthma was flaring up. I instinctively reached for the inhaler in my pocket—empty.
"No..."
I frantically searched all my pockets—jacket pocket, pants pockets, apron pocket...
Nothing.
The inhaler was gone.
It must be in the bedroom.
My vision started blurring. Through the ringing in my ears, I stumbled toward the bedroom. Three steps in, my knees buckled and I crashed hard to the floor.
The loud crash woke Leo. The baby's cries mixed with my suffocation, tearing at my consciousness.
"Baby..." I reached helplessly toward the cradle, but my arm wouldn't respond.
Breathing became harder and harder.
Was I going to die?
"Leo..."
I stretched out my hand toward the cradle.
If I died, how could Lorenzo take care of him alone?
Just as consciousness began slipping away, a familiar voice cut through the fog.
"Noelle!"
Was I hallucinating?
"Fuck! Noelle!"
The glass door shattered with a tremendous crash, and I was enveloped by that familiar scent of cedar and tobacco.
"Kholod..." I struggled to open my eyes.
Kholod's pale face came into blurry focus—stubble disheveled, eyes sunken, but those amber eyes still burning bright.
"Don't talk!" His voice was trembling with a panic and terror I'd never heard before. "Damn it, where's your inhaler?"
"Bedroom... drawer..."
He carried me toward the back rest room, kicking the door open.
"Where? Which drawer?"
"...Left side..."
He set me on the couch and rushed to the drawer, ransacking it. Things scattered everywhere.
Finally, he found the blue inhaler.
"Found it!" He rushed back, dropping to his knees before me. "Open your mouth!"
I weakly parted my lips. He inserted the inhaler and pressed the spray button.
"Deep breaths! Follow my rhythm!" One hand supported the back of my neck, the other controlled the inhaler. "Breathe in... breathe out... that's right..."
The medication entered my lungs and the suffocation finally began to ease.
Once, twice, three times...
I gasped deeply, feeling my lungs finally working normally again.
"Better?" Kholod knelt before me, cupping my face in his hands, thumbs gently wiping the cold sweat from my cheeks. "Noelle, look at me. Are you okay?"
I nodded weakly.
"I'm taking you to the hospital." He moved to lift me.
"No..." I tried to push him away, my voice weak. "Why are you here..."
"Now's not the time!" He scooped me up horizontally. "You need to get checked!"
"Leo..." I struggled, turning toward the cradle by the door. "My baby..."
Leo was still crying, his little face flushed red.
"I'll have someone watch him!" Kholod strode out of the rest room carrying me.
"Nick!" he shouted toward the door. A strange man entered immediately. "Take care of the child!"
"Yes, boss!"
As he carried me out of the gallery, I heard passersby whispering. A black sedan sat conspicuously out of place on the street. Kholod settled me in the back seat, gripping my hand tightly and repeating over and over, "Don't be afraid. We'll be at the hospital soon. Hold on, please hold on..."
His palm was damp, his voice choked. He was shrouded in uncontrolled fear. I'd never seen Kholod like this—the man who always controlled everything was now trembling for me.
"Kholod..."
"I'm here." He leaned close. "Always here."
The ER lights were blinding. A nurse stopped Kholod. "You can't go in."
"No! I need to stay with her!"
"Please don't worry, sir. Your wife will be fine..."
An oxygen mask covered my face. The last thing I saw was him being held back by medical staff, eyes bloodshot, lips moving in words I couldn't hear.