Seeing the Light (A Marie Jenner Mystery Book 1) (9 page)

“Not really,” I replied, wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut. “But some women do. I’ve heard.”

I tried not to feel the heat of his body through his thin tee-shirt. I couldn’t help but notice how lean he was, flat slabs of muscle and bone working together in a fine way. I pushed myself away from him so our hips were not rubbing together, so that his hand did not cup my shoulder so intimately, but he pulled me closer, and curled his hurt hand up to his chest.

“I don’t have many scars,” he mumbled. “Not too many.”

We finally made it to the doorway at the top of the stairs, where we swayed as one. I saw a UPS driver standing by the outer doors, staring at us.

“Help me,” I snapped. The driver dropped his package and grabbed James by the other arm. I could see he was trying not to get blood on his uniform. We scurried out into the warm sunshine, and stopped.

“Where’s your car?” the helpful driver asked. I shook my head, trying to think. It was hard with James’ hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t have a car. Can you give us a ride over to the Royal Alex? It’s only a couple of blocks.” I tried to smile over the driver’s suddenly nervous head shake but stopped when James slumped forward, mumbling about “black dots,” and, “I can barely hear you.”

“Please help,” I begged. “It’ll only take a minute.”

“It’s against the rules, and I have deliveries to make.” The driver looked as though he sorely wished he hadn’t been taken in by my smile. So, I smiled harder and placed a hand on the driver’s arm.

“Be a pal, okay? I really need a ride.”

The driver stared at me for a long moment, then ruefully nodded. “All right, but you can’t tell anyone I did this.” He threw the door open and pushed the junk strewn on the floor out of the way. There was no seat on the passenger side. “Don’t let him bleed anywhere.”

“No problem.” I grabbed James more securely by the shirt, and half-dragged him to the open door of the van. “One more step and you can rest.”

He smiled at me, then tried to take that one step into the van, and nearly brought us both crashing to the ground.

“Help me!” I fought to keep James from falling down completely, and the driver rolled his eyes, gingerly grabbing the back of James’ shirt.

“Don’t let him get any blood on me.” He muscled James in to the van. “You’ll have to sit on the floor beside him.”

I surveyed the situation as he went and belatedly retrieved the package he had dropped in the Palais front foyer. By the time he came back, I was squished against James, trying to keep him upright.

“You could sit here.” The driver gestured to the area beside his seat, covered in paperwork and old coffee cups. “Closer to me.”

“No, I’m fine right here. Let’s get going. He really doesn’t look so good.”

“No he doesn’t.” The driver snorted. “That’s a lot of blood. Are you sure he only cut his hand?”

“I think so.”

“Hmm.” He pulled out into traffic. “You’re not going out with this guy or anything, are you?”

“No.” I shook my head vehemently. “He works in the same building I do. That’s all.”

“Well, good.” The driver smiled at me, and leaned my way. “How about you and me going out for a coffee after we get this guy stitched up?”

“Touch her and die.”

The driver stared, shocked, at James, as he struggled to consciousness. I must admit, I did some shocked staring myself.

“Are you sure you’re not dating?” The driver looked nervous, and quit leaning my way. “He kinda acts like—”

“We’re not dating,” I snapped, slapping James’ hand away from my waist. “Thanks for the offer, but I can’t go out for coffee.” Then I pointedly ignored them both. I didn’t need one bit of this.

When we pulled into the Royal Alex Emergency a few minutes later, the driver threw the vehicle into park and sat, staring out the windshield.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” I asked, knowing the answer as he pointedly ignored me, but having to try anyway. James mumbled something, and put his head on my chest. I tried to push him away, and he grinned up at me.

“Nice perfume.”

“Thanks.” I wasn’t wearing perfume. There was no way in the world I was telling him that. “Can you walk?”

He tried to focus his eyes. Deep rich, blue eyes, beautiful, really, until one wandered off, appearing to investigate the bridge of his own nose. I tried not to watch, but it was like a traffic accident. You can’t turn away. “Prob’ly.”

“Good.”

I didn’t really think it was good. In fact, I was certain both of us would end up in a heap outside the UPS truck, but I had run out of options. The driver was revving the engine and huffing impatiently. “Let’s go, then.”

“Sounds good.” James closed his eyes, then opened them again. “Did I move?”

“No.” I tried to decide whether to laugh or cry, and couldn’t come up with a definitive answer. “You didn’t.”

“Hmm. This is going to be tougher than I thought,” James said.

The UPS driver revved the motor again, redlining it. James swung his head in the driver’s direction. “That’s not good for the engine.”

The driver growled something I didn’t catch and gestured grandly for both of us to get the hell out of his truck, his goodwill evidently spent.

I maneuvered my way over James, got out of the van, and reached up for him. “Just one step, and we’re out.”

“All righty.”

James appeared to muster every bit of strength he had left and hoisted himself out of the van. He stumbled a step or two, and I grabbed his shirt to stop him. He stood, compliantly enough, as I slammed the door of the van shut, and waved a thank you to the driver, who did not acknowledge us, driving off with a small squeal and a blast of black smoke as something in the engine let go. I didn’t bother watching after the van limped to the street and died blocking two lanes of traffic. I had enough to worry about.

We staggered into Emergency. There, the blood on James caused a flutter and I hoped we were going to get in quickly, until the staff realized it was simply a cut to his hand and we were directed to the waiting area. We sat for a long time, watching the chairs empty around us.

“Thanks for coming with me,” James said.

“You’re welcome.” I glanced over at him. Some of his colour had come back. “Will you be all right alone for a minute? I have to call Mr. Latterson and tell him where I am.”

He looked concerned. “I hope I don’t get you into trouble.”

“It’s all right.” I stood. “You needed my help.”

“If he gives you a hard time—”

“Don’t worry about it.” I walked away from him, and to a bank of phones. I called the office and was immediately directed to voicemail, so I left a detailed message, hoping that he was out at one of his all day lunches and wouldn’t notice I was gone.

“Everything all right?” James asked when I came back.

“Everything’s fine,” I replied, hoping it would be.

“Good.” James shifted in his seat, glancing at the injured and ill littering the plastic chairs in the waiting room. “I don’t like hospitals,” he finally said.

“I don’t either.”

“I hate the smell. And the needles.” He shuddered. “What about you?”

“What about me, what?” I didn’t know whether I wanted to talk about this to him, though I’d started it.

“How come you don’t like hospitals?”

A ghost wandered out from the bathroom and sat beside me, putting his head on my shoulder. I tried to shrug him away, but he didn’t move. I realized he’d fallen asleep.

“God.” I jerked my shoulder up once more, to dislodge him, only managing to work his head into my shoulder. I hate that feeling. They are so cold. I stood and walked a few steps away.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” James looked like he thought my reaction was his fault—which, if I was in a particularly bitchy mood, I could say it was, because he was the reason I was in the hospital in the first place. Because he was injured, I decided to cut him a tiny bit of slack.

“It’s all right.”

The ghost snorted himself awake and moved on to another woman, a grandmotherly type who was waiting for her husband to get his ear reattached. The ghost sighed and settled his head onto her shoulder, falling back to sleep almost immediately.

“I don’t like hospitals because my mom has cancer, and I spent a lot of time in places like this before I moved to Edmonton.” This surprised me. I don’t like to talk about my family.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“She was in remission for a while. Now, it’s not looking good.”

“You said you moved here—isn’t she in town?”

“She lives in Fort McMurray.” I tried to smile, but it was hard. “When I left, she was in remission. Now she’s not.”

“Are you going to go back?”

“Probably not.”

“It must be hard, being away from her.”

“It is.” I couldn’t look at him. “But the rest of the family’s there. She has people around her.”

“I meant, it must be hard on you.”

“I know what you meant.” I was finished confessing. This place was making it hard for me to think.

“James Lavall?” A steely-eyed nurse peered out at the waiting room. “Is there a James Lavall here?”

“Here,” James replied, and pulled himself upright. I tried to help him stand, but he shook his head, then walked toward the nurse. She frowned.

“James Lavall?” she asked again.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, frowning mightily.

“Is this a test to see if I’m coherent?” James asked, reaching in his back pocket with his good hand for his sodden wallet. “I’m James Lavall.”

“Oh.” The nurse glanced at James’ ID, and nodded, as if finally satisfied. “I know a Jimmy Lavall. Guess I was expecting him.”

“Jimmy Lavall’s my uncle.”

“Oh.” The nurse touched his arm and led him a little farther away from me. I leaned and listened as hard as I could, intrigued by the odd conversation they were having. “He helped me out once. Got me a heck of a settlement. Thank him for me, will you? When you see him.”

“What’s your name?”

“Stella. Stella Stevens.” She smiled again. “I bet you look like Jimmy did when he was young. He’s a handsome man, given his age.”

“I’ll tell him that, too,” James said.

“Now let’s get you into room three, shall we, and see what you’ve done to yourself?” She guided him through the big double doors that led to the examination rooms, and I lost sight of them both.

The ghost sleeping on the grandmother’s shoulder shifted, snorting, and I held my breath. I didn’t want to attract his attention again. All he did was drop back to sleep, snuggling in to the crook of the woman’s neck like a child sleeping in his mother’s arms.

Twenty-five minutes later, James burst through the double swinging doors on the arm of the nurse, laughing uproariously, his hand swathed in white bandages. He clutched Stella’s elbow with his good hand, and steered her over to stand in front of me. I was surprised that it ticked me off a bit, him clutching Stella’s elbow like that, but chalked it up to some sort of Florence Nightingale syndrome. After all, I’d practically saved the guy’s life. All she’d done was stitch his hand. I tried to smile.

“Marie, I’d like you to meet Stella Stevens. Stella, this is the woman who saved my life, Marie Jenner.”

“I don’t think I saved his life, exactly.” I laughed way too heartily as I shook the nurse’s hand.

“It was a nasty cut. It was a good thing you brought him in.” The nurse twinkled a smile at James. “I should get back to work. Good to meet you, James. Remember to say hi to your uncle for me.”

“Will do.” James waved at her as she hurried off through the grumbling, hurt throng still waiting for her ministrations. “Shall we get back to work?” I realized he was talking to me, and quit glaring at the nurse.

“Do you think you should? Maybe you should take the rest of the day off or something.”

“No, I’ll be fine. Just have to keep it dry.” He snorted. “Might be tough, the way the basement is, but I’ll do my best.”

“Should we take a bus?” It was either the bus or walking, and I didn’t feel like walking twelve blocks. Inadequate footwear.

“Nah, let’s grab a cab. The least I can do is get you back to work in style.” He walked to the courtesy phones, and in short order a cab was waiting for us.

“I should have thought of that,” I muttered. “I have connections.”

“So do I.” James smiled, and held the door for me. “Milady.”

I got in, scooting over as far as I could so there was room between the two of us in the back seat. No more shoulder holding for me. James gave the driver the address for the Palais, and leaned back in the seat next to me. I swore I could feel heat radiating from the man, and leaned away from him, so I could think.

“How does your hand feel?” I asked. I thought it was a safe question.

“Not bad. Stella gave me a shot. Took the edge right off.” He grinned and held his bandaged hand up for me to see. All the fingers seemed to be in the right places, which was a good sign.