Past Due (18 page)

Tres Coulter was trustworthy.

Wasn’t he?

She had looked in the man’s eyes and saw a good man. She had been certain. But what kind of man could leave Jenna alone, babbling and hysterical? She sighed heavily as she punched the elevator button. She had trusted Tres Coulter. Foolishly trusted a man she knew less than an hour.

“Old lady,” she mumbled to herself on the empty elevator, “what were ya thinking?”

The elevator doors opened, Maureen continued to harass herself, her lips moving, though no comprehensible words were caught by those passing her by in the long corridor.

“Always know best,” she grumbled. “Always stick my big, fat, nibby nose into everything. Had to tell her what to do. Had to put my nickel in.” Maureen’s internal tirade only stopped when she reached the reception desk of the Eastern Norfolk Medical Center. Plopping her heavy purse on the counter, her usual small talk and friendly banter forgotten, she cut straight to the meat, “I’m here about Jenna Austin.”

Fingernails clicked against keyboard until the receptionist retrieved the information. The woman at the computer leaned across her desk pointing, and directing Maureen to the large double doors emblazoned with the red letters: ER Trauma Unit. Maureen mumbled a thank you and headed off, nervous tension building as she went through the swinging doors that closed behind her with a thud.

Maureen paused a moment, suddenly uncertain of whether or not she had the strength to do this. Cold, shaky hands gripped the head of her cane. She felt too old to stand. Her chest squeezed and she found it more difficult to breathe. She lifted one hand from the cane and touched her chest. She closed her eyes and took a moment to let God know she couldn’t do this.

He said she could. She shrugged and mumbled, “S’pose if you’re certain. But I don’t know.”

The pace and tension in this wing of the hospital was palpable. Maureen’s doubts doubled and she felt light-headed. Then someone touched her arm.

“Ma’am, can I help you?”

Maureen smiled and said, “Son,” she answered near breathless with nerves and exertion, “I’m here about Jenna Austin?” Maureen took a deep breath both to oxygenate and calm her, “The sheriff phoned. They said she’d been in a wreck?”

The young man guided her, his hand gentle on her upper arm, to another desk. He spoke to the woman behind it, asking Maureen again for the name of the person she sought. This woman also checked her computer then nodded silently and rose from her seat. She came around the desk and smiled sympathetically at Maureen before she asked, “Could you come with me? I’ll find you a comfortable place to wait.”

She led her to a private little room with a couple of chairs and a loveseat. The lamp in the corner glowed softly. Maureen supposed it was meant to be comforting, but instead it struck the chord of dread in her heart.

“What’s happened?” Maureen asked. The woman assured her someone would be in to speak with her, then helped her into a chair and left with the promise of coffee. The woman pulled the door closed behind her and Maureen let out a groan. A memory flashed through her mind, unbidden and unwanted leaving behind the erratic heartbeat and sick stomach that comes from the slap of reality. They had taken her somewhere private when they told her there was no hope for her son. Oh, dear God, no, she thought. You can’t do this to me twice...

Alone, Maureen’s mind raced at lightning speeds with visions of the past and dread of a future without Jen. No.Jen will be fine. Settle down, you old fool, she tried to calm herself as she rummaged through her purse for a nitroglycerine tablet. She couldn’t shake the fear of someone coming through that door and telling her Jenna died. Or was dying. Tears sprang to her eyes. She wished she had someone with her... “Lord,” she groaned in the empty room, “I didn’t even wait on Tanner.” She had tried to find him. She had looked everywhere, but the beach. The one place her hip couldn’t take her. And the most likely place he would be. She had phoned Milo, who readily agreed to hunt him down and bring him to the hospital as soon as he found him. “Old fool,” she continued to badger herself as she sat with eyes clamped shut and turned her thoughts to prayer.

She didn’t hear the door open or see the man enter.

“Mrs. Austin?”

Maureen’s eyes popped open and she nearly leaped from her seat. The man put a hand on her shoulder and suggested she stay seated. He was a little man, with small feminine hands. His hair needed a trim and his large rimmed glasses were too large for his tiny nose to support so they kept sliding to the tip. He dressed in corduroy pants and a slightly rumpled button up shirt. He sat across from Maureen, his large brown eyes sensitive and kind.

“I’m Dr. Campbell. I was called in as a consultant on ... is she your daughter, Jenna Austin?”

“My daughter-in-law,” Maureen answered, gripping the faux leather straps of her purse.

He nodded and lifted his worn brief case from the floor. He pulled out a folder, shuffled through the papers until he found the one he wanted. He handed it to Maureen. “Ms. Austin signed a release in the emergency room so I may speak with you.”

Maureen didn’t bother to look at the paper. She only wanted to know what was wrong with Jenna. “Is she all right?”

“Physically, she seems to have come through this with nothing more than a few scrapes, which is quite a miracle considering what her vehicle is said to look like.”

“Oh, thank you, Lord,” Maureen exhaled, her shoulders relaxed though her heart still pounded.

Shoving his glasses up on his nose, he leaned closer to Maureen and confided, “Like I said, physically, she appears to be fine. At this moment, she’s getting a CT scan as a precaution. The troopers who found her car say it was crumpled like a tin can.” Dramatic pause. He looked at Maureen as if she needed a moment to digest what he said. She toyed with the idea of stepping on his foot to make him speak faster, but she sat composed nodding her head to prove to him she was ready to hear the rest.

Obliging, he continued, “Physically, she is nearly unscathed.”

“Good then, when can I see her? Take her home? She has a boy and...”

The man placed a hand on Maureen’s, “There are other concerns, Mrs. Austin.”

“Like what?”

“Jenna hit a tree with her car at a very high rate of speed.”

“But you said she was fine?”

“Jenna hit the only tree in a field over a mile long with not so much as an inch of skid marks to indicate she tried to slow down.”

Maureen shook her head, confused. “I’m afraid I’m not following you, Dr. Campbell. She was unlucky at the tree, but graced to walk away.”

“The concern is that it wasn’t bad luck that she hit the tree,” another dramatic pause, “but intention.”

“Now, why would she hit a tree?” Maureen asked, her brows furrowed, lips turned down in a rare, genuine scowl.

“Do you know how many times she’s attempted suicide in the past?”

Maureen’s back stiffened, her hands suddenly calm, “Now this is just ridiculous. Jenna didn’t try to kill herself, and I don’t know of any times she tried in the past. She has a son. She knows it would kill him to lose his mother. This was an accident.”

“Jenna has scars on her wrists. Have you ever seen them?”

Maureen had, but had never considered them anymore than the mole near her ear. Maureen nodded, moistened her lips and swallowed hard.

“She admits they were from a past attempt,” he prompted.

“Well, it would have to be before I met her. She has never even hinted at something so…so…irrational as what you’re suggesting.”

“Has anything changed? Change of job? Finances? Difficulties with her son?”

“Yes, I suppose, but still...we all have difficulties.” Maureen couldn’t accept his theory. She talked with the man for a half an hour longer. Telling him all she knew about Jenna without touching tonight’s break down. She couldn’t speak of it. Couldn’t add any fuel to this man’s theory. Couldn’t stomach the a-ha which would surely come over his face if he knew about the phone call she had received from Jenna less than three hours ago.

Dr. Campbell gave Maureen his card, should she think of anything that might be helpful during Jenna’s treatment, she should call him. Maureen looked confused. He must have recognized her confusion and explained, “I’m requesting she agree to a full psychological evaluation. As soon as Jenna’s scans are finished and we have the green light from the attending physician, I’d like for her to be transferred to our behavioral health wing.” Maureen opened her mouth to argue, but the man stood. He piled his papers into his case. “I’ll tell the nurses to notify you as soon as you can see her. You should help me convince her to receive the evaluation, Mrs. Austin. It’s for her own good.”

Maureen sat alone in the little room, her mind abuzz with worry and guilt. Did Jenna really need a shrink? Maureen just didn’t know anymore and she decided she’d delay her decision until she talked with Jenna. See if she really seemed out of her mind. She tried to read a magazine, but couldn’t concentrate on either the words or even the pictures. She dropped the magazine on the table beside her when the door opened again. It was the same young lady who brought her to this room. She poked her head in and asked, “Mrs. Austin, there’s a Mr. Coulter here, shall I send him back?”

Maureen nodded, and got to her feet. Hurrying to the doorway, she looked left then right. waiting anxiously for the young man she hoped could give her some answers. She recognized his tall frame as it moved toward her. The seconds it took him to come down the hallway seemed an eternity. As he came closer, Maureen hustled from the room, grabbed his arm, and nearly dragged him back with her.

She pounced without concern for the open door, “What happened?”

“Is Jenna all right?”

Maureen put an urgent hand on his wrist, “I need to know what happened. She called me. She told me you hated her, told me you were going to take her son from her.”

Tres dropped into a seat, his head in his hands. “I didn’t mean it. I swear I didn’t. I was just so angry. So angry to have missed so much. I came back to the hotel and she was gone. I got your message, and I came straight here. Is she all right, Maureen?”

Maureen looked him over. His eyes threatened tears and he looked tired. Worry lined his handsome face.

“I can’t live with myself if I’ve caused her harm,” he admitted.

“Well, they tell me she doesn’t have much more than a scratch,” Maureen sat across from him and took his hand. She gave it a squeeze. “But,” Maureen lowered her voice and leaned toward Tres, “They think she did this on purpose. They think she’s suicidal, and they want to lock her up.”

Tres stood and paced the small room, “Dammit, Maureen. What have I done?” He turned his glazed eyes to her, “This is my fault. I did this. I was so angry. She told me about Tanner. Told me he was my son.” Tres covered his face with his hands and groaned. “She told me it was some sort of misunderstanding, but I blamed Jake. I told her he probably loved her and lied to her to get her to stay with him. I told her he stole my family and she took up for him and I lost it. I’ve hated him for so long. Hated him for having what I wanted, and I couldn’t stand to hear her defend him.” His hands balled into fists. “I told her I’d take Tanner from her, never let her see him. Then I left her there.Oh, God, she was so upset. And she tried to drive…this is my fault. If this would have killed her…”

“I don’t know why I left her. She stood in the hall and begged me not to go, but I had to. I was just so damned pissed. I’ve never been so mad in my entire life. I felt like someone had to pay. I was robbed of everything that ever mattered to me. My son was raised by another man.” He looked down at Maureen and shook his head. “I can’t explain to you how that feels. All I wanted from Jenna was for her to see why...” Tres stopped.

“Why what?” Maureen asked gently.

“Why I needed her to stop defending Jake. He stole my life. She loved that prick more than she ever loved me.”

Maureen shook her head, “She’s always loved you, and my son didn’t steal your family. He tried to tell you. Do you know how many times I paid his bail when your family had him arrested?”

“Then who do I blame? Jenna? Do I blame her for passing my son off as another man’s? For hiding Tanner from me for fourteen years? Is she who I should blame for all of this?” His voice echoed in the tiny room. “Who is going to give me back the lost time?”

Maureen opened her mouth to respond, but the words she planned were silenced to a hard lump in her throat. A small sound from the hall rang as loudly as an alarm bell blitzing every cell in her body as she recognized the figure in the doorway.

There stood Tanner. Jaw firm, back stiff, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

Tres turned. Following Maureen’s gaze, he came face-to-face with the young man behind him. Tanner’s jaw was set in a firm line, his eyes narrowed to slits. He said nothing before he took a swing. Tres dodged the first blow. The second swing came slower and more predictably than the first and landed square on Tres’s cheek. A third made contact with his lip, causing it to split against his tooth. Tanner seemed invigorated by his success and threw himself toward Tres, nearly knocking him to the ground. Maureen tried to get to them nearly tripping over a toppled chair. She let out an impotent cry of frustration as she grabbed at Tanner’s arm, her face reddened. Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip. Tres looked at Maureen and ended the fight. He caught Tanner’s arms and held him immobile. The boy struggled only a moment before he settled down. Tanner’s face was still filled with fury, and his body was still tense, but he said nothing and stopped swinging.