Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s too late,” he managed.
“Don’t.” Doc lived in the next town over and was nearing his seventies.
He’d retired years ago but was still who they called in a medical emergency.
He lifted his head and took one look at Milly and Adele.
“I don’t want people to know,” he managed to say, but he looked so terrible that Sylvia didn’t know how to help him.
Just seeing his face made her lightheaded.
She reached for the counter to steady herself.
Milly brought a chair to Sylvia and poured them both a glass of water.
“You need stitches,” Adele said, taking over. “Bones could be broken. you need a doctor, or your face will stay like this, hideuse.”
“I don’t care about my face,” Walter mumbled sorrowfully. He turned to Sylvia. “I care about you and Judith.” He looked from his wife to Milly and Adele, then back to Sylvia.
“Don’t worry about them,” Sylvia assured him. “They know everything; they won’t say a word.”
“I still owe them interest,” Walter said. “I paid them what I owed, but they’re still insisting on getting their lousy ten percent for each day I was late.” He took a few short breaths, holding his ribs.
“They’re still charging interest?”
“I told them it was bullshit. I told them to get lost!”
“Oh, Walter,” Sylvia said, shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry.” He’d done this to them, ruined them financially, but she’d made sure he knew she hadn’t forgiven him.
She’d been so intolerant, she’d put so much pressure on him to fix it.
She’d let her immense disappointment in him be known, as well as her rage over selling the house and moving to this one.
If she hadn’t been so obstinate, if she’d given him even a glimmer of hope that she might someday be willing to forgive him, that they might be able to move on with their lives, he might have simply paid the interest he owed and been done with it.
Instead, he’d tried to hold on to what little money they had left.
And they’d come after him. “I’m sorry, Walter, I’m so, so sorry. ”
She dabbed at his mouth and chin to wipe away the blood so she could see what injuries lay beneath, then she carefully unbuttoned his shirt. His chest and stomach were bruised and bloody, and he winced when she tried to move the hand that clutched his ribs.
Adele poured him a shot of whiskey from the bar, and he sipped it, sucking in air when it touched his split lip, but he gulped the rest down anyway.
“I know someone who might be able to help,” Milly said, stepping forward. “A doctor—well, a doctor-in-training, but I’m sure he can help. He lives nearby, and he’ll be discreet.”
Sylvia gave her a puzzled look but there was no time to explain. Walter had set his glass down and was now slouched over the table as if he might pass out. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“I’ll go now,” Milly said.
Sylvia nodded. “Thank you.”
When Milly returned to the kitchen with a handsome and vaguely familiar young man by her side, Sylvia was surprised: Wasn’t he one of the college kids who’d stayed in Milly’s guest cottage during Bal Week?
“This is Wes,” Milly said, avoiding Sylvia’s eyes. “He’s completed medical school at UCLA and is going to be working at Hoag Hospital just up the road.”
“I’m happy to help,” Wes said. “I haven’t completed my residency yet but I have basic supplies.”
“Thank you, Wes,” Sylvia said. “We appreciate whatever help you can give him.”
“OK,” he said, “let me take a look.”
Within thirty minutes Wes had examined him, sutured him with three stitches above the right eye, and cleaned and dressed the wounds.
“Do you have anything in the house for pain?” he asked.
“We have a few leftover Percodan pills in the medicine chest.”
“That would help,” he said. “You’ve got at least two broken ribs,” he said, “but it seems they’re nondisplaced fractures.”
“What does that mean?” Sylvia asked.
“They don’t appear to have moved out of place or splintered, which could have caused a laceration of the lungs or kidneys, so you’re lucky in that regard.
They should heal at home. There’s not much else you can do for them except take the pain medication to ease the discomfort, but switch to aspirin after tomorrow.
Percodan is pretty strong stuff.” He started to pack up his things.
“It’s going to be painful to take deep breaths for a while.
Try not to cough—that will hurt.” He checked the stitches on his face.
“I’ll stop by in a couple of days to change the dressings and check on these stitches.
In the meantime, try to get some rest and drink plenty of fluids. ”
“Thank you,” Walter said.
“You’re welcome.” Wes stood and picked up his bag.
“We won’t forget your kindness,” Sylvia said. “Really, we are so grateful that Milly asked you to come.”
“Anytime,” he said, and Sylvia watched him look back to Milly, nod, and head out the door. She didn’t know why Milly had stayed in touch with that young man, or how she even knew how to find him, but there was something between them; innocent or not, there was definitely something.
After Milly and Adele left, Sylvia slowly, very slowly, managed to get Walter from the kitchen to the bedroom, where he winced and groaned until he was lying flat on his back in their bed.
When he was finally there, he lay with his eyes closed, as if it had taken every part of him to get that far.
Seeing him like this, disfigured and swollen, made her want to cry.
She knew every millimeter of that face; she’d known it and loved it for eighteen years.
Every expression, every subtle movement of the eyebrow or tightening of the jaw, she could read.
Lately, in their crisis, she’d read telltale signs of stress on his face too, but mostly, at least before their money troubles, he was happy, always smiling, always laughing.
And their friends, neighbors—everybody—respected him, loved him, valued him for all he did for the island.
You made a mistake, Sylvia thought as she sat watching him on the edge of the bed, a huge, stupid mistake—and it changed everything for all of us.
But Milly was right. When you marry someone, you vow to spend the rest of your life with them, and there are going to be mistakes and missteps.
There are going to be some wrong turns, some bad decisions, and she needed to decide, right now, what she could forgive and if there was a chance for them to find their way again.
She had to let her anger go. She had to believe he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
She had to revive the trust that she’d put in him for so long. She had to love him.
“Walter?” she said in a whisper, placing her hand gently on his arm.
“Mmm,” he murmured, though she wasn’t sure if he was awake or just stirring.
“Walter, pay them the money, please; just give them what they want.”
Walter took great pains to reach over and take Sylvia’s hand in his.
“They could have killed you, Walt. And I”—she brushed a tear away—“I cannot live this life without you. I love you. Just pay them the money.”
She had never once imagined leaving here. Their life was on Balboa Island, they had built it together, planned for their future here, developed so many friendships, but, she realized now, as she looked at him, bruised and beaten, that he was her life, Walter and Judith. She lay down next to him.
“I know I have to hand it over,” Walter said, his voice faint and hoarse. “I’m worried what they’ll do if I don’t, but it’s going to empty us out. We’ll definitely lose the club. I’m already behind on loan payments. If we don’t make the next one, the bank will repossess it and we’ll lose it all.”
“We don’t need it, Walter,” she whispered. “None of it matters. As long as we are together, you, me, and Judith, that’s everything, and that’s all I care about.”
Walter looked over to her and a tear fell down his cheek. “I’ve failed you,” he said.
“You made a mistake,” she said. “None of us can be expected to walk through this life unscathed. But honestly, Walter, I failed you too.”
“How could you even think that?”
“Because I let you do all this alone—provide for our family, worry about money—it led you to do this, to take a chance with our money. I wish I’d let you know you could come to me, talk to me. Maybe I could have helped, but you should never have carried this burden alone, and for that I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t let you in.”
“Let me in, Walter, please. In the future let me try to help, let me be part of building our new life together.”
“I don’t know what that’s going to look like once I pay them,” he said. “The bank will take this house from us too. They’ll want to recover whatever losses they can.”
“I’ll call on family in Barstow. I’ll call my mother and see if we can stay there until we sort things out,” Sylvia said.
“You haven’t seen your mother since your grandmother died.”
“Now’s as good a time as ever,” Sylvia said, forcing a smile.
“I love you, Lamb Chop,” he said, squeezing her hand.
“I love you too,” she said, and she meant it.