Pinch Me

  Even though he’d left his card before, Thomas handed the man another one. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Edwards.”

  “I hope you catch him.”

  He glanced over at Laura Spaulding’s door. “So do I.”

  Chapter Eleven

  It was a little after six when Carol arrived, and Shayla and Laura had already eaten dinner. Shayla had run out and picked up a pizza for them, which they shared with the deputy on duty. Laura watched as Shayla seemed to act wary, maybe even careful around the other woman.

  It felt like there was a whole layer of context she was missing out on and didn’t even know how to ask about it. Or if she should ask in front of Carol.

  Shayla introduced herself. “Shayla Daniels. We’ve met at Laura’s shop before.”

  Recognition crossed the older woman’s face. “Ah, that’s right. Rob said you and your husband actually introduced him to Laura.” She gave Shayla a warm hug and Shayla appeared to marginally relax. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Shayla walked over to Laura’s bed and gave her a hug. “Omelet tomorrow morning?”

  “Are you sure I’m not imposing?”

  Shayla smiled. “It’s not an imposition, believe me. Besides, I have to be at work Monday. So take advantage while you can.”

  The thought that she wouldn’t have Shayla there with her on Monday saddened her. “Thank you. Then I will.”

  When Shayla left, Laura honestly didn’t know what to do with Carol.

  Apparently, Carol felt the same. She nervously straightened cards and flowers on the windowsill and squared up the stack of photo albums. “Did you want to go through the albums again?”

  “I think I’d like to talk.”

  “Okay.” She walked over and sat in the chair Shayla had occupied most of the day.

  It hadn’t felt like this with Shayla. Forced, in a way. “Tell me about my parents.”

  They talked for a couple of hours. Actually, Carol did most of the talking, with Laura asking her questions.

  Unfortunately, it stirred few new revelations, only a couple of old childhood memories.

  It was a decided relief when Rob arrived a few minutes after ten. Laura wasn’t sure what things in common she had to talk about with Carol before, but the conversation didn’t flow easily between them like it had with Shayla.

  Carol hugged her good-bye. Laura felt more than a little guilty about the tears threatening in the older woman’s eyes. Laura wished she could have been a better conversationalist and hoped that under normal circumstances Carol hadn’t borne the bulk of the talking.

  Once they were alone, Rob sat on the edge of the bed and gently tucked her hair behind her ears. She wanted to lean into him, to snuggle with him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes. “You’re here. I am now.”

  When he didn’t reply, she opened her eyes. He looked sad. “I’m sorry I’ve got to work.”

  She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her cheek. “Please don’t apologize.”

  His torn look ripped her own soul apart. “I…I don’t know what to do when you come home. How to keep you safe.”

  “Det. Thomas came to talk to me today. He said I should get a concealed carry permit.”

  He slowly nodded. “That’s one idea.”

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “I won’t force you to carry a gun.”

  “Let me rephrase the question. How would I have felt about it before?”

  Dammit, I hate that word.

  “You’re not against them, if that’s the question. You spearfish.”

  Right. She’d forgotten about that. “Shayla said one of our friends is a retired cop?”

  He nodded again, even more slowly. “Sully. Clarisse’s husband.”

  “When do I get to meet him? Them. All of them.”

  A sad sigh escaped him. “If they don’t release you soon, I’ll call them. Otherwise, I was thinking let’s get you home and settled first and see if that jostles anything loose.”

  “Okay.” She wondered if she always let him make decisions like this for her. It felt right, she wouldn’t deny it.

  Did that make her weak?

  She scooted over on the bed to make room and patted the mattress next to her.

  When he climbed into the bed, she immediately snuggled against his side as carefully as she could without hurting her ribs. She closed her eyes.

  And burst into tears. Being next to him like this felt so right, so good.

  So perfect.

  He didn’t say anything, simply held her, his lips pressed against the top of her head, his arms wrapped around her, comforting.

  Familiar.

  She didn’t know much, but she knew she wanted to stay like this as long as possible.

  When she eventually stopped crying, he reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table and handed it to her. “When do you have to be back to work?” she asked.

  “Six. The captain’s working with me.”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “I wish. In the morning.”

  She looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

  His confused frown looked adorable. “Why are you apologizing?”

  “Because you should be home getting sleep and you’re here.”

  She hoped he didn’t start crying, because that would totally finish her off. He brushed the hair from her face again. “Sweetheart, I’d walk through hell for you. A little sleep deprivation is nothing.”

  Still, at eleven thirty she gently suggested he should go home and get some sleep. She could see the exhaustion in his face, deep worry lines in the outer creases of his eyes and dark circles under them she suspected he didn’t have a little over a week earlier.

  He gave her a hug and a kiss before heading out. As she settled in to sleep, she thought about the warmth of his body, how right it felt being snuggled next to him.

  I want to go home. With him.

  * * * *

  Sunday morning, they came to take Laura for another MRI early in the morning, before six o’clock.

  She was already awake.

  This time she didn’t mind being in the machine without a nurse in the room because she knew the deputy would stay in the control room.

  Am I finally accepting this?

  It seemed hard to believe. Every hour that passed without more memories returning seemed one step closer to acceptance of her fate.

  She didn’t want to accept it. She wanted to beat this, to regain everything. She refused to believe she’d never have those memories again.

  Of the Christmases and other holidays as a kid with her brother and parents.

  Of her first days with Rob.

  Of all the milestones in her life. She couldn’t even remember her high school or college graduations.

  Of working with her father at the shop.

  She closed her eyes and listened to the music. Today, they had the radio tuned to a station playing light jazz and other easy listening music.

  It wasn’t possible to drift to sleep with the sound of the machine hammering away, or with the way the head brace dug into the back of her neck. She opted for trying to process her dreams from the night before.

  Instead of being on a boat, she’d been kneeling at Rob’s feet, naked. A feeling of utter contentment had filled her.

  But…that’s not normal. What’s wrong with me? Something deep inside her wanted it more than anything despite her rational mind telling her it had to be an analogy for something else.

  I can’t even tell Shayla this. What would her friend think of her if she admitted something like that? Would she think she was weird? Would she distance herself?

  She’d have to deal with it in her own way. Maybe I should call Dr. Simpson’s office tomorrow and make that appointment.

  At least the psychiatrist got paid to hear weird shit.

  * * * *

  Shayla was waiting for her in the room with a freshly made omelet
and even more goodies. She greeted Laura with a hug. “Ready for breakfast?”

  “You’re spoiling me. I hope they let me out tomorrow or I’m going to hate tomorrow’s hospital breakfast with a passion.”

  “How did your visit with Carol go last night?”

  Laura pondered that as she savored the first bite of the omelet. “Good. But I didn’t get any new memories.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She forked another bite into her mouth. “But it was odd. I feel like I’m closer to you than I am to her.” She looked at Shayla. “Does that make sense? I mean, I feel like I can talk to you all day with no problem. Last night, I felt like I had no idea what to talk to her about except to ask questions.”

  Shayla cocked her head as she considered her answer. “Well, we were…are pretty close. Carol is kind of like a mom to you. I know there are a lot of things I don’t talk to my mom about.” She shrugged. “And you saw a lot of her at work. She helps out in the shop. So you sort of had a different relationship with her than me.”

  “How do you get to the weekly girls’ days you told me about?”

  Shayla frowned. “I don’t understand the question, hon.”

  “Your boss lets you?”

  Comprehension dawned. “Oh. Sorry. Yes, because I usually work late Wednesdays and Thursdays anyway because Tony’s frequently working late on those days with meetings. So I make it up. And I work at home and on the weekends a lot. He’s a good boss. He lets us have certain things and we’re happier and more productive for it.”

  “Do you enjoy being a reporter?”

  “I love it. I love working for a magazine instead of a newspaper.” She smiled. “It was one of the things we had in common, the writing. That really drew us together, I think.”

  “Is that how we met?”

  Laura sensed another one of those missed meanings, a hidden context that escaped her as Shayla smiled a little too widely. “Yeah. You read one of my articles and contacted me and a friendship was born.”

  “Which one?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember. I’m sorry. It’s been, what, over three years.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  Shayla laughed, a bright sound. “You need to quit apologizing for everything.”

  “Can we maybe do the girls’ thing this week? If I’m out of here?”

  She nodded. “If you’re feeling up to it. I’ll call everyone and tell them to clear their schedule. I’m sure Clarisse will want to come down, too.”

  “Does she bring her kids?”

  “No.” She grinned. “She says it’s her mental health time with us.”

  “Do any of our other friends have kids? In this group, I mean.”

  Her smile faltered just a little. “No. Just Clarisse.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask this question. “Did I want to have kids?” she softly asked. “Did Rob want them?”

  “Oh, sweetie.” She stood and leaned over, hugging Laura carefully so as not to make her spill her omelet. “You said you do, one day. So does Rob. You wanted to wait until after the wedding. You weren’t in a hurry to start a family. You always said you wanted to enjoy being with Rob for a while first.”

  She stared at her food. “I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged, unable to meet her friend’s gaze now. “I can’t even remember most of my own childhood. Have I ever babysat? Changed a diaper? Did I have a good childhood?”

  “You’ll be a great mom if you decide you want kids.”

  “Do you want kids?”

  Shayla pulled her chair closer and sat, but kept a hand resting on Laura’s thigh. “No, Tony and I aren’t having kids. We have cats.”

  “You didn’t want them?”

  She shrugged. “I really hadn’t made up my mind. I wasn’t even sure I was going to find a guy to spend my life with. He’d had a vasectomy before I ever met him, and he didn’t want kids.”

  Shayla looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’m happy, and even more important, I’m content. I don’t feel any sense of loss by not having kids. I know some people have an overwhelming desire to be a parent, and some have an overwhelming desire never to be a parent. I was in the middle. It didn’t really matter much to me one way or another.” She let out a little laugh. “I damn sure wasn’t giving Tony up over it.”

  Laura pondered that for a moment as she took another couple of bites. She still wanted to talk about the dreams she’d had the night before, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to say anything that might make the one person she really felt connected to as a friend think less of her.

  “As long as you’re happy,” she eventually settled on saying.

  Shayla’s broad grin said it all. “I am,” she assured her. “Happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”

  “I hope I get to that point.”

  The smile slowly slid from Shayla’s face. “You are. Well, you were. I’m sure you will be again.”

  Laura took another bite but didn’t respond. She wished she felt as sure as Shayla.

  * * * *

  The neurologist came in a couple of hours later, just before lunch. Laura asked Shayla to stay.

  “Well,” he said, “I’m thinking we’ll discharge you sometime tomorrow. I’ll have my PA check in with you, but unless anything else crops up, your MRI looks good. The mild swelling you had at first has completely subsided, compared to the MRI we took when you were admitted. You’re a very lucky woman.”

  Laura let out a snort. “I don’t feel very damn lucky.”

  His expression softened. “I’m sorry, Laura. I know it’s frustrating—”

  “You have no fucking idea what I’m feeling!” she shouted, startling both Shayla and the doctor and making the deputy stick his head inside to check on her. “You have no fucking clue what it’s like to not know who I am or the people around me! So don’t fucking tell me ‘you know’ what I’m feeling, because you don’t.”

  The doctor slowly nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like for you.”

  She collapsed back onto her pillows, her ribs aching in protest at the sudden movement. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.”

  “I saw in your chart that Dr. Simpson consulted with you.”

  “Yeah.”

  He glanced at Shayla, then back to Laura. “She’s good at what she does. If anyone can help you, she can.”

  “Thanks.” She couldn’t roll to her side with her ribs, so she turned her face away from him.

  She waited until she heard the room door open and close again to turn back to Shayla. “Did I used to blow my top like that?”

  She slowly shook her head. “Not really, but I don’t blame you. I’d probably be a basket case by now. I don’t know how you’re handling it so well.”

  “Well?” She wiped at her eyes, determined not to burst into tears for once. “Doesn’t feel like I’m handling it very well from this end.”

  * * * *

  Rob stopped by after lunch to see her for a few minutes. They’d brought a patient into the hospital and his partners on the ambulance crew shooed him upstairs while they prepped for their return to the station. When Shayla tried to step out to give them privacy, Laura and Rob both asked her to stay.

  “Can you tell him what the doctor said?” Laura mumbled. “Please?” She was too comfortably snuggled against Rob’s side to talk.

  Shayla related the information but left out the outburst.

  “That’s great!” Rob said. “I’ll tell the captain I need tomorrow off for sure.”

  “Tell him the rest,” Laura said.

  “What?” he asked.

  She heard Shayla sigh before telling Rob about her outburst.

  He gently palmed Laura’s cheek. “Honey, look at me.”

  She forced her eyes open and wanted to sink into his sweet brown gaze.

  “No one blames you for bein
g emotional,” he gently said. “No one. Especially not us, the ones who love you. God knows Tony and Seth had to deal with their fair share of listening to me rant and rave in the parking lot downstairs while you were unconscious.”

  She couldn’t imagine Rob getting angry or losing his temper.

  “So please go easy on yourself,” he said. “If you need to scream, or rant and rave, or cry yourself out, whatever. Don’t hold back. That’s what we’re here for, to help you through this. You never have to put on an act for us.”

  * * * *

  It took every ounce of Rob’s will to keep himself from crying. Yes, her bruises were fading, but she talked differently, acted differently, and her palpable emotional pain was something he couldn’t fix.

  He hated that. Hated not being able to do something to make this all better for her. To take her pain and tears away.

  “I’ll be here first thing in the morning and then I can take you home when they discharge you. Okay?”

  She nodded, looking lost. Looking helpless. Forlorn.

  If they weren’t short-handed at the station, he would gladly take all of his banked vacation time and use it up over the next few weeks. But he suspected he’d need it spread out over the next weeks and months to go to doctor appointments with her.

  “Bill is flying in late tomorrow night. Steve volunteered to drive to Tampa to get him. He’s going to be here for two weeks. He’ll stay with you while I’m at work.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” she mumbled half-heartedly.

  “You do need someone who can handle a gun,” he firmly said in a tone he hoped resonated with her. His “Dom tone” as she used to call it. “I want someone with you who can protect you until we get you trained and get you a gun.”

  He’d already called Sully and had that talk with him. Sully had volunteered not only to train her, but to have her stay with them, if necessary, to keep her safe.