Broken Things (Faded Photograph Series) (34 page)

“Because I thought it would only make things worse.”

His heart went out to her.

“But it doesn’t matter anymore. Listen to this, a couple of days ago at lunch, it was like I just totally gave into the Holy Spirit and I walked right up to Lindsay and Pam. I felt like God did all the talking through me. But then almost fell over when they both said they’d come. I couldn’t believe it.” Veronica shook her head in amazement and her hair swung back and forth over her slender shoulders. “It was weird. I never experienced anything like it!”

“That’s awesome.” Had he ever seen Ronnie so enthusiastic? And that she was stirred by something spiritual encouraged him―so much so that he forgot about how miffed he was over Marilee’s absence.

The other kids showed up and Ronnie introduced them to Logan. He didn’t miss the note of pride in her voice when she added, “We’re cousins, but he’s like my older brother.”

The teens from Ronnie’s high school said they wanted to play, so Logan divided them up onto teams. This made room enough for him to participate, so he chose the Navy side to make things even. He got in line for the rotation and right in front of him stood a grinning Sabina Lewis.

“All right!” she said. “This is going to be a great night!” She bent her knees and lifted her arms as if she were a cheerleader. “Whoo-hoo!”

Logan burst out laughing. It was nice to know he’d made someone’s day.

* * *

Allie sat in the restaurant waiting for Jack. He’d asked her out to dinner tonight and she accepted, hoping to convince him to sign on with Lakeland Enterprises. Unfortunately, he was late, but not by much.

Adding a packet of honey to her cup, she stirred her hot tea with a spoon and thought about Cynthia Matlock. Allie had promised Logan she’d check on her before leaving for the weekend. Sadly, Cynthia’s condition hadn’t changed all week. She was still very depressed and in a lot of pain. No amount of medication seemed to alleviate it. Julie, the brand new second shift supervisor in that ward, said she’d phone Cynthia’s doctor and see if he would prescribe a high dose or a different brand of painkiller.

“Well, well, look who’s here.”

Allie glanced up from her steaming teacup. Brenda stood in front of the table. She forced a smile at her stepsister. “Hi, how’re you?”

“Just groovy.”

Allie noticed the square Styrofoam take-out container in Brenda’s one had, and the glass of golden liquid in the other. She wore no cosmetics, only a mask of contention. Coupled with her bold stance and rough-and-tumble attire, Allie had a feeling that Brenda would like nothing better than to pick a fight.

“Mind if I join you?” Without waiting for an answer, Brenda sat down across from her.

“Is your husband with you?”

“Nope. I’m here with some girlfriends from work.” She thumbed over her shoulder. The sleeves of her black T-shirt were rolled up and she looked like she’d just stepped off the set of
Grease
. “They’re next door…in the bar. I just came in here to get my carryout order. Great fish-fries at this place.”

“Good to know. Thanks.”

“We stop over there every Friday night after work for a few beers. What about you? You waiting for somebody or are you alone?”

“Waiting for somebody.”

“Lemme guess.” Brenda took a gulp of beer. She reclined in the chair and crossed one blue-jean encased leg over the other. “You’re waiting for Jack.”

“That’s right.”

Brenda shook her head. “Some guys never learn, do they?”

Allie ignored the barb and sipped her tea.

“It would serve you right if Jack stood you up.” Her snide tone was unmistakable.

“Look, Brenda, you can join your friends in the bar any time. You’re under no obligation to keep me company.”

“What, are you ashamed to be seen with me―you in your expensive suit and me in my grubby factory clothes?”

“Not at all.”

Brenda smirked. “Don’t lie. You really think you’re Miss Highandmighty, don’t you? Well, I’ve got news for you. You’re the same spoiled, selfish brat that you were when we were kids.”

Allie closed her eyes against the tirade.
Lord, please shut this woman up. I’m tired and I don’t feel very diplomatic at the moment.

“You and your country club religion.” Brenda raised a brow. “You’re on a first name basis with God. Aren’t you special?!”

Allie didn’t reply, but glanced in the direction of the doorway. She hoped to see Jack, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“I’m glad your husband slashed your cheek. You probably deserved it.”

The comment caused Allie to lose her patience. “Are you really that ignorant? No woman
deserves
to be abused. And you know what else? I think
you
are the spoiled and selfish brat. You’ve got a lot of growing up to do.”

Pure, unadulterated hatred flash across Brenda’s hardened features as she threw the remainder of her beer in Allie’s face. The cold liquid stung Allie’s eyes and she grappled for her linen napkin. Finding it, she dabbed her face before mopping her silk blouse, now stained and ruined. When she glanced across the table, Brenda smiled with satisfaction.

Allie set down the napkin and stood. “You just proved my point.” Lifting her coat and purse off the adjacent chair, she mustered her dignity and made her way out of the restaurant.

“See ya, Sis,” Brenda called on a malicious note. “And don’t worry, I’ll let Jack know you left.”

Allie refused to answer. Continuing toward the red, neon EXIT sign, she paused at the cashier counter and instructed the hostess to charge her cup of tea to Brenda.

“She’s the woman sitting right over there.” Allie pointed through the restaurant.

Brenda had the audacity to wave, and the hostess nodded.

Allie walked out the door. She turned left on the sidewalk, and stepped off the curb, walking to her car. All the while, she fished in her purse for her cell phone, hoping to get a hold of Jack.

“Allie!”

She paused and turned on her heel, hearing his voice. Although night had fallen, she could see his approaching form through the well-lit parking lot.

“Sorry I’m late.” He jogged to catch up with her. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Yeah, I had a little run-in with Brenda.”

Jack wrinkled his nose. “You smell like a brewery. What happened?”

“My darling younger sister tossed her beer in my face.” Allie hoped to hide her anger, hurt, and humiliation in the quip.

“She did…
what
?” Jack slid his gaze toward the restaurant before his eyes rested on Allie again. “You’re kidding, right?”

She shook her head as her heart swelled with remorse. “Oh, Jack, she hates me.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“No!” Allie caught the sleeve of his leather jacket as he took a step toward the restaurant. “You’ll only make things worse if you go in there and confront her. Brenda’s drunk and she’s looking for a fight.”

“Good. I’ll give her the fight of her life.”

“Forget it, Jack. She’s not worth it.”

Taking Allie by the shoulders, he bent slightly forward and peered into her face. She suddenly felt like a vulnerable little girl and she bit her lower lip in effort to forestall the threatening tears.

“I’ve been a cop for thirty-three years. Don’t you think I know how to handle a drunk?”

“Yes, but―”

“Go home.” His gentle voice made Allie feel like crying all the more. “Shower and change, and I’ll meet you in the lobby of the hotel.”

She didn’t want to comply, but Jack was a responsible adult who knew his own mind. Besides, the beer’s residue made Allie feel grimy. A shower and a change of clothes was exactly what she wanted.

Getting into her car, she placed the key in the ignition and gave it a turn. Jack strode purposely for the restaurant and, in some small way, Allie felt sorry for her stepsister.

* * *

Marilee gripped the steering wheel as frustration coursed through her. Why had she raced out of the house, forgetting her cell phone? She could have called Logan an hour ago.

A car’s horn blared from somewhere to the left of her. Like that would do any good. I-90 was a virtual parking lot, and Marilee caught up in the worse traffic jam ever. Worse, she had no way to call Logan to say she’d be late―very late. She couldn’t even exit and use a pay phone. All lanes were jammed with others trying to merge. There seemed no way out.

Regret filled her being. Logan would be so disappointed when he learned that she’d dashed off to meet her mother and purchase the bride’s maids’ gifts. She chided herself for allowing Mom to talk her into meeting her in Chicago this afternoon. However, last Monday they’d discovered a quaint little shop on Michigan Avenue that just happened to offer fifty percent off some beautiful and unique sterling silver pendants that would make perfect gifts for the bride’s maids. The sale ran through today and due to other appointments in the week, neither Marilee nor her mother could make the trip…until today. Unfortunately, Marilee’s plans to make it back in time for the bonfire hadn’t panned out. She hadn’t counted on getting stuck in traffic.

The vehicles in front of her began to move. They gained speed and Marilee felt like she was making some progress as she rounded a curve. But then brake lights up ahead signaled another standstill. She slowed and stopped just a little too close to the car ahead of her. She groaned aloud and, again, she wished she had her cell phone.

As Marilee glanced in her rearview mirror she spotted a red pick-up truck rounding the same curve she’d just passed. She expected that it would slow down as it approached. But seconds later it became frighteningly apparent that the driver wasn’t paying attention.

Panicked, Marilee gave her steering wheel a sharp turn, intending to pull onto the shoulder and get out of harm’s way. However, her bumper collided with the car in front of her, stalling her progress. Tires squealed, giving way to grinding, twisting metal, and shattering glass. Pain exploded through her midsection, while her car careened out of control. It finally smashed into the cement median like a wave against a rocky cliff. Marilee’s world went black.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Just as Logan stuffed the last of his hotdog into his mouth, his cell phone rang. He groaned with his mouth full, and the kids sitting around him at the picnic table laughed. In one quick move, he removed his phone from his pocket and handed it to Ronnie, motioning her to answer it for him.

She rolled her eyes and pressed the appropriate button. “You have reached Pastor Logan Callahan,” she said tartly. “He’s unable to answer your call right now because he’s got his mouth stuffed with food.”

Everyone within earshot hooted, and Logan made fast work of swallowing his supper.

“Give me that!” Taking his phone, he figured it was Marilee…finally! And she had better have one terrific excuse!

“Hello?”

“Logan Callahan?”

“That’s me.” When he didn’t recognize the female voice at the other end, he viewed the Caller ID. The phone number wasn’t familiar either. “Who’s this?”

“I’m a nurse at Charity Medical Center and I’m calling on the behalf of your fiancée, Marilee Domotor.”

Logan perked up and rose from the picnic table. He walked several feet away from the noise so he could hear. “What’s wrong with Marilee?”

“She was in a car accident this evening and she’s on her way to surgery as we speak. Her parents are on their way, but she asked that I call you too.”

Logan’s gut dropped to his toes. “I’ll be right there.”

He snapped shut his phone and pocketed it. Hurrying back to the picnic table, he explained the situation to Veronica. Others overheard and the talking slowly ceased.

“I’m coming with you!” Ronnie insisted.

Logan didn’t talk her out of it. He had a feeling he would need all the support he could get.

Leaving the teens in the capable hands of several parents who had volunteered, he and Ronnie ran to his car and jumped in. Just as quickly, they pulled away from the beach. Logan’s pulse raced and as it did, his foot pressed all the harder on the accelerator. He had to keep reminding himself to slow down and keep a level head.

“I’m praying, Logan.”

“That’s good, Ronnie, because all I can think about is getting to the hospital.” He frowned. “Charity Medical Center? That’s on the other side of Chicago. Why is Marilee at Charity?”

“Don’t ask. Just drive.”

Thirty-five minutes later, Logan pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. He and Veronica entered via the emergency room where they were greeted by two nurses, a male and a female, both wearing light blue scrubs. Logan rambled off the situation. The male nurse directed him to a security officer who, in turn, gave him a map and explained how to get around to the other side of the medical complex. Entering there, the guard said, they would find a waiting room designated for families of surgery patients.

Frustrated and worried, Logan jogged back to his car.

Veronica followed.“Did you see all those people in there? One dude had a bandage around his head and he was bleeding right through it. Another lady was in a wheel chair and she was throwing up. It was so nasty! I could never be a nurse!”

Logan barely heard Ronnie’s discourse as he drove around the medical complex. He parked for a second time and they found their way to the waiting area. The Domotors were already there, along with Noah Warren, the senior pastor at church.

“How is she?” Logan felt somewhat breathless.

Mrs. Domotor began to cry and her husband put his sturdy arm around her shoulders.

“She’s in surgery.” Noah spoke softly before he waved Logan and Veronica into the hallway. Outside the waiting area, they faced each other. The men were nearly the same height, but Noah had a good thirty-five years on Logan.

“Marilee’s pretty banged up,” he explained in hushed tones. “She’s got a fractured pelvis, a broken leg, and some internal injuries.”

“But surgery should take care of it, right?” Logan’s brain refused to register any diagnosis other than a full recovery.

“We hope so.” With a sigh, Noah pulled a handkerchief from the back pocket of his tan trousers. He wiped the perspiration dotting his forehead and receding hairline. “It’s the internal damage that’s worrisome. But God’s in control. Let’s pray everything goes better than expected during surgery.”