A Batter of Life and Death (28 page)

“I don’t need a wheelchair. It’s just my arm,” I protested.

Thomas gave the nurse a look. She nodded and proceeded to position me in the chair. She wheeled me inside without another word.

It didn’t take long to confirm that my arm was broken. The X-rays showed a fracture in two places. The doctor on call splinted my arm in a temporary cast and sent me home with pain medication and a referral to an orthopedic surgeon who would properly cast it once the swelling went down in a few days.

Thomas was waiting for me when the nurse wheeled me out to the front.

“Nice accessory you have there.” He pointed to the cast.

“I hear it’s the new look. What do you think? How does it look?”

“You look good in anything, Jules.” He moved closer and covered my swollen fingers with his hand. “Does it feel better?”

“Much better now that it’s stabilized. It’s going to be a bit tricky to bake like this, but I’ve done it before.”

“About that.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and directed me to the car. “This is twice now, Juliet. Twice since you’ve been home that you’ve gotten yourself in the middle of a murder investigation.”

We walked quickly through the rain to where he’d parked the squad car. One perk of being a police officer was that he didn’t have to worry about getting a ticket for parking near the front door.

I started to respond, but he cut me off.

“Nope. Not now. I’m taking you straight home and putting you to bed. That’s doctor’s orders. We’ll talk about everything else later.”

“But Torte and Mom,” I said.

“Already taken care of. Your mom is going to meet us at your apartment.”

“The show,” I blurted out. “I’m supposed to be doing the show this morning.”

“That’s also going to wait. The Professor and I need to sort out a bunch of details now that we have Elliot in custody. No one is filming anything today.”

I didn’t have the energy to protest anymore. My bed and a handful of Advil sounded like exactly what I needed at the moment.

Chapter Thirty-five

Mom was indeed waiting for us at my apartment. She took me from Thomas like I was an injured baby bird. He left to finish his work on the case with the Professor. I don’t remember much of the morning, other than Mom helping to peel off my shirt and tuck me into bed.

Despite the dull pain in my arm, I slept for close to three hours. It was lunchtime when I woke up.

I stumbled out to the living room where Mom had her feet propped up on the couch and a pot of coffee and two mugs waiting on the coffee table.

“I thought I heard you stirring,” she said, sitting up and pouring both of us a cup of coffee. “How are you feeling?”

“Stiff, but okay.” I took the cup with my left hand. My grasp felt shaky.

“That’s to be expected.”

“Mom, you didn’t have to hang out here while I slept. I’m okay.”

“I know you’re okay, but you’re also my daughter. I wanted to be here. I’m glad I could be here.”

“Me too. Thank you.” I sipped the coffee.

“Juliet.” Mom paused and clutched her hands around her mug. “I told you I would stay out of things with you and Carlos. Thomas is a part of this too, and I have to tell you he was distraught when he left. Absolutely distraught.”

“I know.”

She waited, taking a long sip of coffee.

“Mom, I’m really confused. I think I may have feelings for Thomas that I didn’t know were still there. But then I wonder if that’s just because I’m
here.
If I weren’t here, he probably wouldn’t even cross my mind. It’s not like I was pining away for him on the ship. Or is it because Nina showed interest in him? Then my competitive side came out and I wanted to win, not really because of him, just because of winning.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Thomas? No. What would I even say?”

“Have you ever talked about how things ended with you two? Maybe there’s something from the past that needs to be resolved.”

I placed my mug on the table and examined the fingers on my broken arm. They reminded me of hot dogs sticking out of buns. “Maybe.”

Mom stood and cleared our coffee mugs. She returned with a steaming bowl of chicken soup and a cornbread muffin. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“You know, I hadn’t even thought about it but, yes, I’m starved.” I blew on the soup. It was chockful of carrots, celery, onion, garlic, corn, peas, herbs, noodles, and huge chunks of rotisserie chicken. Whenever I was sick as a kid, Mom would make a pot of her homemade chicken soup. The aroma of it boiling on the stove would waft up the stairs to my room. I remember feeling better just from the smell.

The same was true today. I let the steam invade my pores. Mom and I talked through everything that happened with Elliot. I told her about Nina and the butter and Sebastian not being French.

“For someone not actively involved in the case, you certainly learned your fair share of secrets, didn’t you?” She winked. “I have to admit, I think Doug will be impressed when he hears what you pulled together in terms of clues. That doesn’t mean I condone you staying involved when we all told you it was too dangerous.”

“My crime-solving days are behind me, Mom. Now it’s going to be back to baking.” I tapped my cast. “One-handed baking.”

We finished our soup and Mom returned to the bakeshop. She told me to rest for the day. They had everything covered. Stephanie was doing all the prep work for Lance’s party and Andy and Sterling were running the shop. Mom hadn’t broken the news that Elliot was a killer to Stephanie yet. I wondered if, once Stephanie learned the truth about Elliot, she and Sterling would start speaking to one another again.

Mom promised to stop by after she closed up the shop for the evening. She and the Professor would bring me dinner. I was reminded once again just how lucky I was to have her.

I spent the rest of the afternoon reading and half dozing on the couch. Rain lashed against the window and the wind sent leaves scattering in the sky. Watching the storm roll past was strangely calming.

Someone knocked on the door around two o’clock. I flinched for a second and then remembered that Elliot was in jail. There was nothing for me to be afraid of.

It was Thomas. He stood holding a bouquet of wildflowers tied with a simple string.

“Come in.” I stepped to the side.

He handed me the bouquet and then grabbed it back.

“I guess those aren’t for me.”

“No, I figured I could put them in water for you, what with your arm.” He shook his raincoat off and folded it over the banister in the landing to dry.

“Thank you.” I closed the door behind him.

He took the flowers to the kitchen and returned with them in a Mason jar. “Where would you like them?”

“How about on the bookcase.”

After placing the flowers on the shelf, he paced around the living room.

“Would you like to sit?” I patted the spot next to me on the couch.

He stopped pacing and joined me on the couch. “Listen, Juliet I—I’m not sure how to say this. I tried earlier and it didn’t come out right, so I’m just going to say it and get it out there.”

I waited. He fidgeted with an imaginary string on the couch and jumped back to his feet. He started pacing again.

“When I thought you were in danger—or worse—I couldn’t handle it. If something happened to you I’d be devastated. We’ve never talked about what happened when you left, and I guess this morning made me realize that I do need to talk about it. I need to tell you how I felt. Why I did what I did.”

“Thomas, it’s okay, really. It’s in the past. I’m over it.” I wasn’t sure that was entirely true.

“But I’m not, Juliet. I never have been since the day you packed up and left. I feel like I made a big mistake back then by not coming after you.”

“You didn’t. It’s okay. I needed to go.”

He stopped near the entrance to the kitchen. “If I hadn’t told you I wanted to take a break, would you have left?”

I sighed. The memory of that afternoon came flooding back. Thomas, or Tommy as I used to call him back then, and I had had plans to go to college together. We were going to stay in town and attend Southern Oregon University. He had a football scholarship, and I could work in the bakeshop and go to school at the same time.

Mom cautioned me against the idea. She thought I should have the experience of going away to school, but I pushed that thought aside. Tommy and I had been dating since our sophomore year of high school and we were inseparable. He’d been my steadfast supporter after my dad died, and I couldn’t even imagine leaving Ashland and him behind.

The night of our graduation party he was acting weird. When I finally called him on it, he pulled me outside. I can still remember the way the air smelled and the sound of our classmates singing karaoke in the background.

When I asked him what was bothering him, his words floored me. “I think we should take a little break, Juliet. Give each other some space over the summer. I’m going to be training hard with football camps and stuff, and I know you want to really learn the trade from your mom.”

A break? I couldn’t believe he was saying those words.

I don’t remember what he said after that. It was all jumbled through my tears. I do remember fleeing the party and crying all the way home.

Mom comforted me. She made me hot tea and let me cry on her shoulder, but she also said, “Maybe it’s for the best, Juliet. Sometimes taking a break makes everything clearer.”

Nothing was clear that night. Her words stung, but after a few weeks they began making sense. Without Thomas tying me to town, I suddenly started to wonder why I wasn’t leaving. I’d daydreamed for years about going off to culinary school in New York or even overseas. I’d even applied to a few schools and been accepted, but I never told Thomas. I’d hidden the acceptance letters in my dresser.

After Thomas broke up with me, I pulled them out again. Mom and I read through them after dinner one night. She couldn’t hide her delight that I’d changed my mind, and she was convinced that getting out and experiencing the world firsthand was exactly what I needed. She and Dad had set aside college money from the time I was young. Not only was I accepted to a school, but I had a way to pay for it.

The summer flew by. I did work side by side with Mom at Torte, but I also spent it packing and preparing for a new adventure. When it came time to go, I left. I didn’t bother to tell Thomas I had a major change of plans. He’d had a major change of heart, so we were even.

Mom had been right. Leaving for culinary school had been one of the best decisions I ever made. And until now, I never looked back.

Chapter Thirty-six

“Juliet, I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I never thought things would end up the way they did. All my football buddies said I shouldn’t start college with a girlfriend. I was eighteen and so stupid. I shouldn’t have listened to them.” He paused, and then said in almost a whisper, “I never thought you would leave.”

“Thomas. Really, trust me. It’s okay. It’s one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

He looked injured.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant leaving town. If you hadn’t broken up with me I probably wouldn’t have left, and I needed to go. I just didn’t know it. Mom did. I think you probably did too.”

“Maybe I did.” He sighed and came and sat next to me. “It’s just nice to have you back again, Jules.”

His radio crackled. “I better get this.” He stepped outside.

I wondered how Mom was so astute. How did she know that I needed to hear what Thomas had just said?

Thomas opened the door halfway. “I’ve gotta run. I know there’s more I should say.” He waited for a response.

“It’s fine. Go.” I pointed to his radio, which sounded again.

“You promised to come see all our old friends this weekend, and I’m holding you to it,” he called as he left.

I took it easy for the remainder of the day. As to whether I would uphold my promise to Thomas, I’d see how I felt in a day or two. Mom and the Professor delivered homemade pasta, salad, and bread. We popped open a bottle of wine and had a feast around my coffee table.

The Professor gently ran his hand along my splint, as I showed them to the door. “Juliet, the bard would say, ‘What wound did ever heal but by degrees.’”

“We’re not talking about my arm, are we?”

Mom guided him out the door. I gave her a halfhearted promise that I wouldn’t come in until late the next day.

I woke before dawn as usual. Sitting around my apartment wasn’t going to make my arm feel any better, so I opted to ignore Mom’s pleading and head to Torte at my usual early hour.

The rain had cleared. Stars glittered in the predawn light as I walked along Main Street. Sleepy downtown Ashland looked peaceful once again.

My arm ached and my fingers felt stiff, but considering what could have happened with Elliot yesterday, I felt pretty good.

The shop was already humming when I arrived. Mom, Nina, and Linda were all gathered around the island with coffee and scones.

“There’s our hero,” Linda said, giving me a hug and planting a kiss on my cheek. I could feel her lipstick on my skin. “Your mama was just giving us the recap.”

Nina offered me coffee. “I feel terrible. I must have missed him on my way out.” She shuddered. “To think a murderer was with us all along.”

“How’s the arm?” Mom asked.

I touched my cast. “Not too bad.”

“Right.”

“Are you sure you’re gonna be up for finishing the competition?” Linda scooped two heaping teaspoons of sugar in her coffee. “Philip is flying in a new host. He’s really hoping that you’ll consider finishing the show.”

“Of course.” I held my cast in my best superhero pose. “This isn’t about to stop me.”

“Whew.” Linda stirred her coffee. “Philip will be so relieved to hear that. Y’all want to hear a little gossip? Philip and I are dating.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Mom caught my eye. She squeezed Linda’s hand. “I’m so happy for you. Isn’t it wonderful to find someone at our age?”

Linda beamed. “It is, honey. It sure is.”