The Artist's Paradise (21 page)

Chapter 35

Angie trembled as she sat up in bed. The telephone’s persistent ring interrupted her fitful dream. Disoriented, she patted around for her cell phone, picked it up, and checked the caller I.D. No name, only a phone number she didn’t recognize. 6 a.m., who would be calling at this hour?

“Hello?”

“Angie. Thank goodness. I’ve reached you. Tell me you are still in Knoxville.” The professor’s voice quivered. “You didn’t leave did you?”

She
swallowed hard. What now? Why was he such a drama-king? “Professor Turner, is everything all right?”

She
recognized his panic attack from the night before. She had to get off his merry-go-round. To hell with sticking it out to save face, she needed to leave as soon as possible.

“I need you to come get me. The nurse indicated an early release. Please come now.”

Angie froze. She would not make any decision until she had time to think. She needed an exit plan. Why did this man see her as his caregiver? She was not responsible for him. “I have no way to come get you. And besides, I’m going home as soon as I can get a flight out.”

He gasped
. “If you leave me here, they’ll lock me up in the psycho ward. Don’t let them put me in with those other people.”

She rubbed her eyes. He was so irrational.
Perhaps he
should be
locked up with those other people.

“Angie, please. I never meant any harm. I was so afraid to lose you. I’m better now.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll come, but not now. The doctor told me you’d be released sometime
after
noon. Around 11, I’ll call a cab. It’s way too early now.”

“
Drive my car. Come immediately. The keys are on the hook right inside the backdoor.”

Th
at was nuts. Why didn’t she tell him
no
. He was the sick one, not her.

“Yes, I can drive your car. But
you can’t get discharged until you’ve seen your doctor.”

“You have to come
now
. I need you. Please. If you don’t come, I’m afraid of what I might do to myself. You’re the only one who can save me.”

Angie crawled out of bed, her shoulders rounded as if carrying a heavy backpack, staring at the cell phone in her hands. Save
him?
She couldn’t even save herself.

“Give me an hour. I have to shower, dress, and find those car keys.” She shook her head in disbelief
, hearing her own words.

“Thank
you. Thank you. I’ll be waiting for you. I’m in room 1412.”

She disconnected.

Staring at the cell phone screen, she discovered four missed calls. How had she not seen them before? She missed four calls—all from Jonathan. Had he called while she was inside the hospital? Cell phones never seemed to work in the bowels of those huge steel structures.

Her dear sweet, Jonathan, what
to say to him? Her situation required a face-to face explanation. He never gave her more than a minute or two and then he walked all over her words. His impatience made phone calls difficult. She needed a clear head. Surely once she returned from picking up the professor, she would know how to share her situation with him.

S
he missed her life in Chicago. She hoped Jonathan would still be there for her after she rid herself of the responsibility of the professor.

An hour later,
car keys in hand, Angie raced to the car. A brisk touch of wind induced an involuntary shiver as the sun peeked into the eastern horizon with an orange and pink glow. The sunrise promised a fabulous day, but the task ahead of her loomed dark and ominous.

She
gingerly pulled out of the professor’s driveway and turned the car onto the main street. She rarely drove in Chicago. Growing up, her family never owned a car. She hated being behind the wheels of a red BMW convertible. The car cost as much as her entire wardrobe.

Thanks to modern technology, she successfully programmed the GPS to
guide her to her destination. How did people function before computers?

#

Angie parked the BMW in the hospital lot. She opened the driver’s side door, making sure she avoided touching the car next to her, and stepped out into the morning air. A breeze lifted her hair and tossed it gently across her forehead.

Only a crazy person would be here picking up this violent man. She no longer trusted him. She wanted to run, not come to check him out of the hospital and drive him home. How would she be able to get away once he was home alone with her
? She might have to get help from Hanna and her husband.

Angie checked her watch—not even seven o’clock. Jonathan would be on the
train, headed to work. Vicki would still be sleeping. She should be in Chicago, too.

She
stiffened her back, held up her head, and stared forward. She stepped through the hospital entrance and located her way to the information desk. After confirming the room number and which elevator to ride, she marched toward the Blue elevators.

When she reached the professor’s floor, she took in a deep breath.
As the elevator doors opened, Angie found herself face to face with Professor Turner—his complexion red and lips tight. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come. What took you so long?”

She
stepped back and took a deep breath. How impatient he had become. He was irrational. “I came as quickly as I could. I was asleep when you called. Remember?”

He grabbed her arm. “Don’t be disrespectful.
”

“Stop. You’re hurting me.”
She pushed him away and rubbed her arm.

“
I needed you here an hour ago.” He grabbed her again, jerking her away from the elevator, and yanking her into his room.

She pulled herself free from his grasp. “Don’t you
ever
touch me like that again.” She stomped back toward the door.

“Wait. Let me explain.”
He reached behind her and shoved the door closed. “I’m sorry. I’m going insane in here.”

Angie
glared at him, an icy shiver running down her spine. “
You
have to calm down. I refuse to take you home if you’re like this. The doctor wouldn’t release you, and I couldn’t take care of you. Don’t you understand? You mustn’t overreact?”

The hospital room door opened and a loud voice said, “Good morning. It’s time for breakfast.”

Angie settled into a side chair next to the hospital bed, still rubbing her arm.

The professor sucked in some air and returned to his bed. “I’m not hungry.”

The male nurse smiled, placed the food tray down, and uncovered the scrambled eggs and toast. “I hear you’re being released this afternoon. The chef usually sends up pancakes and bacon on a patient’s last day, not these powdered eggs. Sorry, man.”

The male nurse left as quickly as he had arrived. “I’ve got to go. Lots of hungry folks around here.”

The professor stared at his plate. He pushed the tray away and turned his head toward Angie. “I’m sorry about all this. The embarrassment is painful.”

Angie crossed her arms and hugged herself. She stared back at the professor.
“No reason to be embarrassed. You’re under a lot of stress. But if you stay high-strung, you will not be released today.”

“
Oh, I’ll be released today, or else. I’m so close to reaching my goal. No more time as an unknown artist,” he whispered. “You have so much promise. Together we will make them rue the day they turned on me.”

How
did this man, with so much artistic talent, function day to day? He seemed so unbalanced. She wasn’t a shrink, and he badly needed one. Vickie had been right all along.

“I’m
not waiting for that doctor to release me. Let’s go.”

Angie
focused in on his face. If he tried to manhandle her again, she’d have him committed herself.

“What?”

“We wait for the doctor and the release, or I am going to leave without you.”

He raced over and stood in
front of her, arms crossed. “You do not speak to me that way. I will not be disrespected.”

Angie
stood motionless. Her gaze rose to meet his stare. “If you don’t sit down, I’ll leave and you will be placed in the care of a mental facility.”

He raised his arm as if to grab her. “No. Y
ou can’t do that.”

She
pushed him back a step and resumed her stance. He had to believe she would maintain control, or she had to leave him. “If you want to go home, sit down, eat your breakfast, and wait for the doctor. He won’t be here until around noon.”

He drew in a deep breath and then exhaled. His shoulders drooped and his cheeks radiated a
pulsing red. He sulked in silence for a while, then sat down and attacked his breakfast. After eating, the professor got back into his hospital bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. His calm demeanor gave Angie pause. He went from unresponsive to a madman with increased frequency.

He sighed.
“I’m so sorry. I know you don’t understand me. Neither do I.”

Chapter
36

Jonathan yanked his carryon bag from the Delta overhead bin. A rush of relief filled him. The trials of air travel had ended. After successfully surviving security, a thirty-minute wait time on the tarmac, and a short bumpy flight to Knoxville, four hours had crept by. All he thought about was locating Angie.

Dragging his bag behind him, he caught the escalator to
the baggage area and eventually the exit. He turned his cell phone back on, and glared at the missed calls. Gina was on the hunt for him. He groaned and pushed the redial button on his phone.

“Boss, thank goodness you called. Where are you?”

“I’m doing what I should have done weeks ago—bringing Angie home.”

“You’re in Knoxville? Does she know you are there? “

“No. I can’t reach her by phone. She may be in trouble.”

“What do you want me to tell
the man upstairs
?”

“
Tell him I quit. My life is not going to be on hold any longer.”

Gina did not respond immediately. Then she whispered into the phone, “How about if I tell him you had a family emergency and will call him later?”

“Say anything you want. But I am out of there. I won’t change my mind. You told me to man-up, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“I’ll cover for you today. If you aren’t coming back,
you
can call Carl yourself.”

“Fine. I’ll handle it later. Right now I have to find
my wife.”

“Good luck, Boss. I’m proud of you.”

He sighed, as he closed his cell. He was going to need some good luck.

Within a few minutes
, he reached the Avis car rental booth, and picked up keys to a subcompact and a map to the Knoxville area. He made his way toward I-275. Tennessee was in full bloom. Jonathan, a long time city boy, drank in the early summer colors. The highway was lined with golden Tulip Popular trees gently bending in the soft breeze. He marveled at the white flowers on the Cleveland Pears. He understood why Angie had fallen in love with this area of the country. It was gorgeous.

With minimal traffic, cars moved swiftly and without congestion. Compared to Chicago
traffic, this drive was eventless. He checked the map, located Route 275, and headed onto the bypass toward Marysville. The trip time was estimated at around half an hour.

He reached the 900 block of Somerset Drive and slowed as he approached the house of Professor Turner. He drove a half-block past the
address and stopped the car. Not sure of what his next steps should be, he opened the driver’s side door and surveyed the professor’s domain.

Muscles tensed and ready to attack, he
edged out of his car, studied the area full circle, and glanced up and down the street. Satisfied no one was around. He marched up in front of 966 Somerset Drive, strode up the sidewalk, and pounded on the door. No answer.

He made a fist, rapped on the door again, and waited. Still no response. He stepped back off the front porch and
re-inspected the neighborhood. No one seemed to notice him making a racket. He slipped around to the side of the house, following a narrow flagstone path. He found himself in the backyard staring at a small log cabin. That must be where Angie had been staying. He rushed to the cottage door and alternated pounding and punching the doorbell. No one came to the door.

Jonathan‘s stomach cramped.
Sour bile rushed up into his throat. What if she was inside and needed help? He tried the door—locked. His chest tightened. He slowed his breath, one, two, and three. Calm down, idiot. This was not reality TV.  He’d be useless, if his panic attack continued.

“Hello, there.”

Jonathan jumped.

“Don’t be alarmed. I’m Hanna
Baker, the next-door neighbor. Can I help you?”

Turning, he tripped over her foot. Grabbing the doorknob, he steadied himself.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” He towered over his intruder.

“Hanna,” she said, holding out her hand. “My husband
, Jack, and I live next door.”

“I’m Jonathan Rhodes. My wife
, Angie, is studying with the professor this summer.”

Hanna grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to her. “Thank God you’re here. Quick, come to my house. Follow me
.”

#

Finally, with dismissal papers in hand, Angie and the professor exited the hospital and headed for the parking garage. The doctor’s release message clearly demanded a follow-up appointment with a professional psychiatrist, preferably on his hospital- release day. The nurse reviewed the discharge orders with Angie. She assured her any of the three doctors he had recommended would see him immediately. Professor Turner’s condition was too serious to ignore.

The professor turned
toward her as they reached his BMW and stretched out his open hand. “I’ll drive.”

She glared at him and then opened her purse and located the keys. As she dropped them into his outstretched palm, she said, “When we get back to the cottage, we’ll make that appointment for you.”

He strode around the car, opened the driver’s side door, and slid behind the wheel.

“
You
must
get professional help.”

“Nonsense, I am fine.”

“Fine? You tried to kill yourself last night, remember?”

“It’s nothing.”
He laughed. “I get upset sometimes. But now you are staying. I will make your name known from art gallery to art gallery, all over the world. We will be famous.”

He turned the key in the ignition, floored the gas, and shot out of the parking garage and onto the street, narrowly missing a service van. “Idiot, get out of my way.”

Angie, eyes wide open, sunk into the seat, shivering. Now wasn’t the time to say she was leaving. He wouldn’t believe her anyway.