Bayou Judgment (14 page)

“He called you?” Her brain still had cobwebs filling the blank spaces.

“Well, he tried Luc first, but got his voice mail. So, he got me at the center.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. But I was only too glad to come.”

The door swished open and Dr. Guard breezed in. “My, you were really trying to hurt yourself, weren't you, missy?”

Heat fanned her face. “How much damage?”

Dr. Guard raked his gaze over her. “You were lucky. Just a minor muscle torn.”

“It doesn't hurt nearly as badly as before.”

“Of course it doesn't. We've given you an injection of painkillers. You'll be dopey for the better part of this afternoon.”

She licked her lips. “Will I need another surgery?”

“At this point, we don't think so.”

Relief flooded her and she smiled.

“However, young lady, I'm ordering you on complete bed rest for the next week. After that, we'll run some more tests and I'll see.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. Guard glared. “I mean it, Felicia. You so much as put your body weight on that leg and the tear can enlarge, which
will
mean another surgery. Or more.”

She nodded.

“I want your promise. I don't like having you mess up my beautiful work.” The doctor kept staring sternly, but his aging eyes twinkled.

“I promise.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Good.” He handed her a small vial with the logo of the hospital pharmacy. “These are your painkillers. Take one every six to eight hours. Call me if you have any problems, and I'll see you in my office next Friday at nine.” With a final wave in her direction, the good doctor swept from the room.

“Whew. What a relief.” Felicia scooted to the end of the examining table.

“Whoa, there. Let me help you.” Spence grabbed hold of her arm.

“Just hand me my cane. I know how to walk with it and not put any weight on my leg.”

Spence glanced around the room. “Uh, I don't think Mark brought it.”

“Lovely.” No cane, no driver. She was batting a thousand. At least the painkiller seemed to work. Her leg still throbbed, but the pain had dulled.

“I'll swing by Mark's office and grab it for you.”

“I don't want you to g—”

A nurse shoved open the door and pushed a wheelchair inside. Felicia became increasingly aware how small the room seemed with the added contraption. Or maybe it was the close proximity to Spence that made her feel almost claustrophobic.

No, it was the wheelchair. She'd lived in one all her life, save the past year. She'd worked hard, endured pain and agony to get out of the contraption, and now, here she faced being in one again.

Helpless. Crippled.

“Here we go. Let's get you into the chair. Your husband can bring around the car.” The nurse locked the brakes on the wheelchair and moved to help Felicia.

“H-h-he's not my husband.” Heat scorched her cheeks.

The nurse placed her hands on her ample hips. “Well, I don't know why not, honey. He's a dream. And so concerned about you, too.” She smiled at Spence.

He turned a delightful shade of red, lowered his head and mumbled that he'd bring the car around.

Felicia giggled, then clamped a hand over her mouth. What was wrong with her? Must be the medication.

The nurse found it amusing, as well, and Felicia was pretty certain she hadn't taken any painkillers. She helped Felicia into the wheelchair. “Didn't mean to embarrass your young man, but he is a looker, honey.” She set Felicia's feet on the pads and unlocked the brakes. “Better hook that one before someone else does.”

As the nurse rolled her down the hallway of the hospital toward the front exit, Felicia considered the woman's words. She'd found Spence attractive ever since she'd met him almost a year ago but had ignored the feelings as she'd been in raw mourning over Frank's death. Little by little, she and Spence had formed a friendship of mutual affection and respect. But over the past few weeks…well, she'd awakened to just how deeply her feelings for him truly ran.

She ignored the nurse's ramblings, trying to concentrate on the conflicting arguments going on inside her head. What about his past—the time he'd spent in prison for trying to kill a man?

He could've killed him, but he didn't.

He tried. Admitted he wanted to kill that man.

That man had raped and murdered his little sister. What would Luc have done?

He had kept it secret. Hadn't trusted anyone, not even her.

For fear of being judged. Hadn't he been right on that count?

He had lied.

Had he?

The automatic doors opened with a whoosh. Wind scattered dried leaves across the ramp.

“Gonna have some rain by nightfall,” the nurse said.

As if on cue, thunder rumbled in the dark clouds.

Spence pulled his truck curbside, shot out of the driver's seat and opened the passenger door.

“Such a gentleman,” the nurse clucked.

Yes, that he was.

Felicia let out a little groan as they moved her from the chair to the truck. The nurse patted her good leg. “You remember what I told you, honey. Better get him off the market as quick as you can,” she whispered before shutting the door.

Spence slipped back behind the wheel and glanced at her. “You okay?”

No words came. Mutely, she nodded.

“Want to run by and get your cane, or would you rather go home and lie down?”

Her heart wrenched. Such care and concern lined his face. His very handsome face. His gentle eyes. His strong jaw.

“You know what, you look wiped out. I'll take you home, get you settled, then go get your cane. How's that?”

As if she could answer? She nodded again.

He put the truck in gear, and they were off. Felicia laid her head on the headrest and closed her eyes, soaking in being with Spence.

Oh, merciful days, she loved him.

Her heart tripped. What was she supposed to do about that?

Would she never stop needing someone to wait on her? Allowing Spence to carry her into her apartment served a large dose of humility to her fledgling pride.

“Want to lie on the couch or in your bedroom?” He wasn't even winded from carrying her.

Her face flamed. What was it with her embarrassment factor today? Something about the image of Spence tucking her into bed felt entirely too intimate. “On the couch, please.”

He lowered her to the cushions—thank heavens CoCo had delivered them early this morning—and eased a pillow behind her back. “Let me get you a blanket or something.”

“Hall closet.”

The man's attentiveness did nothing to detract from the fact that she loved him. Now she needed to do some soul-searching and have a long talk with God to see what to do about it. “Spence, would you grab my Bible from the bedside table?” Luckily, it'd been in her purse when her place had been trashed.

He returned with her Bible and the double-wedding-ring quilt her grandmother had made before she passed.

Was God trying to tell her something?

After tucking the blanket around her legs, Spence handed her a yellow sweater. “This was in the closet. Thought you could use it.”

She took the soft knit and drew it close to her chest. The sweater Jolie had asked to borrow the night she was killed. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and wove it tightly around her.

“Let me get you something to drink so you'll have it close.”

“There's some bottled water in the icebox.”

He disappeared and returned in a flash, toting two bottles of water. He set them on the coffee table and pulled it closer to the couch. In a flurry of activity, he grabbed the cordless phone and handed it to her, retrieved the extra throw pillow from the chair and slipped it behind her back, then brought her a package of crackers.

“I'll be fine.” Felicia laughed, feeling the full effect now of the injection the doctor had given her.

“It shouldn't take me long to get your cane. Can I get you anything else while I'm out?”

“A new leg?” She let loose with a fit of laughter.

Spence stared at her as if she'd sprouted lichen. “Pain must not be too bad.”

“Nah. This medicine seems to be working well enough.”

“Better than that, I'd say.” He smoothed down her hair, his fingers lingering as they brushed against her face.

She leaned into his touch. It felt so nice. So warm. She was so sleepy.

He jerked his hand away and coughed. “I'll leave the door unlocked so I can get back in. Is there anything else you need before I leave?”

Even her toes were warm and cozy. “How about a kiss goodbye?”

He froze, his body going rigid. If he hadn't looked so shocked and scared, Felicia would've laughed. “Never mind. Didn't mean to traumatize you.” Her body felt as if it were humming. She closed her eyes.

Then blinked suddenly as his lips grazed against hers for only a heartbeat. He kissed her temples, the tip of her nose, and both her eyes.

Blood raced through her veins. Now her body not only hummed, it practically sang opera.

“I'll be back soon,” he whispered.

She really wanted to read some Scripture while he was gone, but her eyes were too heavy. She set the Bible on the table and snuggled under the edge of the quilt. She had a final thought before sleep overtook her, which made her smile.

What would it be like to have Spence tuck her in like that every night for the rest of her life?

Br-rring! Br-rring!

Felicia jerked her head forward. Then immediately regretted it as the beginning pulsations of a headache ravaged her temples. She rubbed the aching area.

The phone rang again. She thought she'd been dreaming before. She snatched the cordless. “Hello.”

“I just talked to Spence. Are you okay?” Luc's voice held a load of concern.

“I think so. Yeah.”

“You don't sound so good. Why don't CoCo and I come over and bring you some supper?”

“No. I'm just groggy from the pain medicine. I was asleep when you called.”

“I'm sorry for waking you.”

“I'm okay. Really. I'll sleep off this painkiller hangover.”

“Bubba called me today as well. Heard you went and visited Wesley Ellender in jail on Sunday afternoon. Care to explain why?”

“Not particularly.” Wow, Percocet—backbone in a bottle.

“
Boo,
I don't have to tell you that wasn't a smart move. Bubba's royally teed off. Said he has half a mind to charge you with interfering in a police investigation.” Static sounded over the connection as thunder rumbled enough to rattle the living room windows.

“That'd be a neat trick. He's already arrested someone. As far as I can tell, he isn't investigating anymore, and that's a shame, because Wesley Ellender isn't guilty.”

Luc let out a loud sigh. “They found the murder weapon in his truck.”

“Which they were led to by an anonymous tip.
Allons,
you know it screams of a setup.” Her head felt all cottony. “I'd think you'd be more understanding, considering Uncle Justin almost did the same thing to you.”

“Aren't you being snappish?”

She closed her eyes. “I'm sorry, Luc. I'm tired, the painkillers are making everything fuzzy and I just want to go to sleep.”

“Bubba said you'd been digging into the origin of the knife.”

She sighed deeply. “Somebody has to.”

“He's following up on your lead,
Boo.
He's doing the best he can.”

“While Wes sits in jail.” She yawned, long and loud.

“I don't like you being there by yourself.”

“Spence will be back in a few minutes. He went to get my cane.” She squinted toward the clock on the wall, but couldn't make out the time. Looking to the window, she couldn't determine an idea of the time as rain battered against the panes. Had she slept through a storm?

“I know. Remember, I talked to him?”

“Yeah. Look, I'm gonna go back to sleep now. I'm really tired and my head hurts. I'll talk to you later, yes?”

“Okay. But if you need anything, you call me.”

“Will do. Love you.” She didn't wait for a reply but turned the phone off and let it slide to the coffee table.

Oh, her head hurt bad.

A loud clap of thunder rattled the mirror over the buffet in the foyer. Lightning stretched across the darkened sky. A chill settled over her. She inched down further under the quilt.

What time was it, anyway? How long had Spence been gone? She glanced at the coffee table. Where was the television remote? Oh, on the chair's side table. Not close enough. Probably just as well. Spence had probably only been gone a few minutes. Just long enough for him to get to his truck and call Luc. She smiled to herself. Two men cared about her.

Lightning slashed…an electric pole sparked…a loud crack drowned out the thunder rumbling. Spencer planted his foot on the brake. As if in slow motion, the pole broke and fell across the road, missing Spencer's truck by a couple of feet. The transformer sent sparks off like fireworks as flames shot up.

He slammed the gear into Reverse and punched the gas, getting his truck away from the fire that danced in the barrage of rain. Dialing 911 on his cell, he told Missy about the fire and its location. There was nothing more he could do but try to keep others from getting too close.

Staring into his side mirror to detect any cars topping the hill behind him, he pressed on his hazard lights and let out a slow breath. That'd been a close call, and the adrenaline continued to speed through his veins. The full-flavored aroma of homemade chicken and dumplings filled the truck's cabin. He glanced at the brown paper sack on the passenger's seat. Moisture rings crept up the side. Great. He'd spilled it when he'd slammed on his brakes.

He straightened the bag and groped for napkins in the console. Probably not a good idea to stop and get takeout, but he was sure Felicia would be hungry later. She definitely needed something in her stomach to absorb the pain medication. It'd made her downright loopy.

She'd asked him for a kiss.

Had to be the drug talking, not her.

He hadn't been able to turn down her request. Planting feathery kisses over her face had squelched any doubts he'd had that he was in love with her. Totally and completely. And he'd made up his mind—he would tell her. Whether she'd give him the boot or agree to date him, he didn't know.

But he'd find out.

After
the painkiller wore off.

The sky behind him flashed red and white. He twisted in his seat to see the fire truck pull up parallel to his truck, splashing water from the road over his windshield. He stepped into the driving rain.

“What happened?” the tall fireman asked.

“Lightning hit it, I think.”

The fireman nodded, his hat bobbing in the rain. “Happens a lot in these kinds of storms.” He glanced at the smoldering transformer, then at Spencer's truck. “We'll take care of it from here. You can head on back.”

Spencer shook his head. “I need to get down this road.”

“Well, it'll take us some time to make sure the wires are dead. Then we'll have to cut the pole to get the road cleared. We don't have a saw on this rig, but we'll radio for one to be brought out.”

“About how long?”

“Thirty minutes or so, after we get the saw.”

Maybe he should backtrack. But no, going the long way around would take him about fifty minutes to get to Felicia's apartment. With the rain, who knew what other delays he'd encounter. “I'll wait.”

The fireman nodded again. “Then back your truck up a couple hundred yards. We've already called the electric company to kill the feed here.”

Spencer did as instructed, letting the heater stay on an extra minute or so after he moved the truck. The rain had soaked his clothes and the wind bit into him. Maybe he'd dry out a little before he got back to Felicia's. She'd probably get irked if he muddied up her floors.

He lifted his cell phone. Should he call Felicia and tell her he'd been delayed? He recalled her dazed expression. No, he wouldn't call. She probably crashed before he even got to the parking lot, and she needed her rest.

As the storm raged and the firemen worked, Spencer wondered how to broach the subject of his love to Felicia.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Felicia shook herself awake and reached for the phone. If Luc was calling her back…She must've scooted the phone over the table because it lay just out of reach of her fingertips.

Bang! Bang!

Not the phone, the door. Didn't Spence remember he left it unlocked? She sat as upright as she could. Probably it was Luc and CoCo, despite her telling him she didn't want him to come over. She let out a groggy sigh. “It's open.”

The door pushed open. Felicia opened her mouth to give Luc a good talking-to, only to let her jaw hang slack.

A young woman stood in the doorway. The one Felicia had talked to the other day by the Dumpster.

“May I help you?”

“I need to talk to you.” The woman shut the door behind her and turned the dead bolt.

Why would the woman lock the door? Pinpricks of apprehension shot over Felicia. “Do I know you?” Her voice came out squeaky.

“Kinda.” The woman moved across the room and plopped into the chair. The very wet woman in the new chair.

“I've seen you around here a few times. Do you live in the apartments?” Felicia felt like she was caught in some cross between a Stephen King movie and the
Twilight Zone.

“Nope. Don't live here.”

The pinpricks graduated to the size of lily pads. Felicia fought against the fuzziness of her mind. There was something she should remember about this woman. Something odd, different. But she couldn't remember; the medication dulled all her senses.

Finally like a rod being cast, Felicia remembered. The woman had mentioned Felicia's wheelchair when they spoke the other day.

No one in the complex knew she used to be wheelchair-bound!

Felicia's mouth felt as if she'd been eating sand. From the drug or fear, she didn't know. She leaned forward, throwing her full body weight toward the table and reaching for the phone. The edge of the table dug into her shoulder, mixing with the already-throbbing pain of her leg and head. The cordless skidded off the other side and landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Felicia shoved herself back to the couch, rubbing her shoulder.

The woman laughed. Callous cackling.