Torn Apart (10 page)

“No,” she said.

He grinned at Frances and Tommy. “She isn’t the first one who’s told me that today. Follow me.”

It took what seemed like forever, but after his examination, then X-rays, then filling out paperwork while waiting for the X-rays to be read, they finally got a diagnosis.

Dr. Luke parted the curtains surrounding the area where they were waiting, and entered with a nurse and a Tootsie Pop.

“This is Jeanie. She’s going to help me put a bandage on your hand,” he said, then handed Holly the sucker. “And this is for you. Do you like grape?” Holly nodded.

The doctor peeled off the paper and handed it to her. She put it in her mouth. Then he turned to her parents. “One of the small bones in her hand is broken. I’m going to set it and splint it.”

Frances glanced at Holly, then lowered her voice. “Won’t that hurt?”

“I’ll give her a shot to deaden the pain,” he said, and pointed to the lollipop. “Preventative medicine.”

A pain shot, a meltdown and a lollipop later, Holly Maxwell’s hand had a splint in place.

“There now,” Luke said, as the nurse handed him the last piece of tape, which he wrapped around the splint. “You’re going to need to wear this for a while, and keep it dry. I gave some written instructions to Mommy and Daddy, but I think you three are cleared to go home. How’s that?”

Still sucking the grape lollipop and eyeing the contraption on her hand, Holly nodded.

Frances leaned down and whispered in Holly’s ear.

“What do you say to Dr. Luke?”

Holly took the lollipop out of her mouth and sniffed.

“Thank you for the sucker, and thank you for fixing my hand.”

Dr. Luke patted her blond curls, then wiped a smudge of sticky purple from the corner of her lip.

“You’re very welcome. My little girl used to like grape lollipops, too.” Then he grinned wryly at the Maxwells. “Unfortunately, she’s not so little anymore. She’ll be a senior at Loyola University this fall. Time flies.”

“You’re right about that,” Tommy said, and scooped Holly up in his arms, ready to head for home.

Their relief at finding everything still intact faltered some when they realized the power was still out. But Tommy quickly took charge and began hooking up the generators. Frances sat down in her favorite rocker, lifted Holly and her dolly onto her lap and began to rock.

Between the comfort of being at home and in her mother’s arms, and having her dolly tucked under her chin, Holly began to relax. Finally Frances felt it was safe to talk about the events of the day.

“Honey, I’m so sorry your hand is broken. You know it was an accident, right? No one meant to hurt you.”

Holly nodded.

“Everyone was running, including you, after the siren went off. You fell down so fast, the children behind you couldn’t stop in time to keep from hurting you, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Holly said, and looked down at the splint.

“It was a good thing Mrs. Earle picked you up when she did, or you might have been hurt worse.”

Holly’s eyes widened as she nodded again. The mention of Katie made her mind shift to Bobby. She’d heard everyone talking. She knew the story. They said Bobby had blown away in the storm, which made her sad. Bobby was her friend.

“Mama…?”

“What, baby girl?” Frances murmured, as she smoothed the hair away from her little girl’s face and continued to rock.

“Why did that happen to Bobby? He was my goodest friend.”

Frances sighed. How did you explain death to a child and not leave them afraid it would happen to them next?

“We don’t always know why bad things happen, honey. We just have to trust in God to take care of us and help us through when they do.”

Tears rolled from Holly’s eyes and down her cheeks. “But, Mama, if God is taking care of us, then why did He let Bobby get taken away?”

Frances sighed as she pulled her daughter closer. She couldn’t help but feel guilty at the joy of knowing she still had her child when Katie did not.

“It’s complicated, Holly. Just know that God doesn’t make bad things happen, but when they do, He helps us get through them.”

Holly’s eyes were closed, and she was silent for so long that Frances thought she’d fallen asleep. Just when she thought about getting up and carrying her to her bed, Holly’s voice shattered the silence.

“God was wrong, Mama. Pastor William says God can make miracles, so He should have made a miracle and saved my friend. He shouldn’t have let that happen.”

Frances couldn’t help thinking Holly was right. It shouldn’t have happened. But it had. And there was nothing to be said that would change the outcome.

“I know how you feel,” she said. “And I’m sorry you’re so sad.”

Holly nodded, but the tears that rolled from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks tore at Frances’s heart, which prompted her to add yet another explanation.

“You know what my grandma Sutton used to say about things like this when I was a little girl?”

Knowing her Mama had once been a little girl never failed to intrigue Holly. “When you were little like me?”

Frances smiled. “Yes, when I was little like you.”

Holly almost smiled. “What did she say, Mama?”

“She used to say that when someone died suddenly, someone so loved that no one could believe it had happened, that God must have had a really special job up in heaven, and that He had picked the very best person He knew to do it.”

Holly’s features stilled. Suddenly she sat up.

“Mama! You mean God took Bobby because He wanted him to work?”

Frances frowned. That wasn’t exactly the thought she’d meant to impart. She shrugged.

“I’m saying…that’s what my grandma Sutton used to say.”

Holly’s lower lip trembled. “I hope God doesn’t have any jobs for me, because I don’t want to leave you and Daddy.”

If Frances could have taken back what she’d just said, she would have, but it was too late. Unintentionally, she’d added yet another level of stress to her daughter’s life.

“You aren’t going to go anywhere, so don’t worry,” Frances said, and started rocking harder.

Holly snuggled, but she still wasn’t satisfied. “How do you know that, Mama?”

“I just know…. But to make sure, tonight when I say my prayers, I’ll make certain to let God know you don’t want to go. He’ll be fine with that, I’m sure.”

That seemed logical to Holly, and she finally relaxed. Within a few minutes the pain meds finally kicked in and she fell asleep.

Frances was putting her to bed when she heard the air-conditioning come on, sending the first waves of cool air into the room. She blew her daughter a kiss and went to see if her husband needed any help.

Hurricane-force waves were breaking above the deck of the offshore rig as the men who’d been left behind rode out the storm below.

Stanton Blalock was coming down from his last fix and had crawled into a bunk and gone to sleep, leaving J.R. with nothing to do but dwell on his own demons.

He wasn’t too worried about their safety, although he’d said a few prayers just in case. It was the inland storms that gave him pause. Four men were in the mess hall playing cards, and the rest sat watching the wall-mounted television. The signal was so bad that the broadcast kept going on and off. But the men who had family in the storm’s path were worried as to what was happening back home and kept watching, anyway. J.R. was among them.

He’d tried to call Bordelaise several times but hadn’t been able to get through. In this kind of weather, that wasn’t unusual, and it was no reason to assume there was anything wrong.

But as he sat with the others, watching the National Weather Center tracking storms across the state, he couldn’t stop worrying.

If he hadn’t been such a jerk and tried to force a move to New Orleans, they would still be together. He’d been living in motels for years. It wouldn’t have killed him to keep it up a while longer, giving Katie time to accept the fact that his job and lifestyle really had changed. He’d been so sure that if he bought the new house she would come, and he was still in a state of shock that their lives had come to this.

Right now Bobby was their only link to each other. But that wasn’t enough. Without Katie, J.R. felt like he was dying. During this imposed isolation, he’d come to a conclusion. As soon as this storm passed, he was going back to Bordelaise to beg Katie to forgive him. He would put the new house up for sale and drive to hell and back every day if that was what it was took to keep his family intact.

After hours of watching intermittent broadcasts of weathermen repeating the same warnings over and over, J.R. gave up. He grabbed a cold drink and some cookies from the mess hall, and ate them on the way back to his room. He was so keyed up, he wasn’t sure he could sleep, but he needed to rest.

Eventually the weather would change.

A chopper would arrive.

And he and Stanton Blalock would be off the rig and heading for home.

Bobby woke up needing to pee. At first he couldn’t figure out where he was or why his arms were stuck above his head when his legs worked just fine. Then he heard a sound behind him and turned his head just as Newt choked on a snore.

The sound was as startling as the sight. Bobby took one look at the nude and blistered body and, once again, began kicking and screaming.

Newt didn’t hear the thin, high-pitched squeal, but when the bed began to bounce and a little heel caught him in the side, he woke up with a start.

“What the hell?” He sat up in bed, realized the kid was awake and reacted in anger and pain to being kicked. “Shut up!” he yelled, and clapped his hand across Bobby’s face, leaving only his wide, frantic eyes exposed.

Bobby froze as Newt leaned over him.

“If I move my hand, are you gonna kick me again?”

Bobby shook his head.

“Fine,” Newt said, and moved his hand.

Bobby took a deep breath but didn’t move.

“Good job,” Newt said. “I’ll take the tape off your mouth if you promise not to scream.”

Bobby nodded.

“Little bastard,” Newt muttered. “Can’t you see I’m hurt, here?”

He reached for the tape, then winced, took a deep breath and tried again. He picked at a corner, trying to get enough loose to get a grip, but soon learned it was harder to get it off than it had been to put it on. Finally he peeled lose a corner and yanked.

Bobby moaned, but quickly swallowed the pain. He’d promised to be quiet.

“Sorry,” Newt said, patting Bobby’s leg. “It was stuck.”

Bobby nodded, gulping back tears, but now that his mouth was free, he had a serious request.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

It suddenly dawned on Newt how long the kid had been here, and he knew it was a miracle he hadn’t already peed the bed.

“Yeah, sure, kid,” Newt said, and rolled carefully out of bed.

The more time passed, the stiffer and more painful his injuries were becoming. The skin was pulling, and the blisters that hadn’t already burst were getting larger.

His steps were slow and careful as he circled the bed, then took the dangling ends of the panty hose between his thumb and fingers and pulled. They came loose from the slip knots easily, a simple task compared to removing the tape.

Within seconds Bobby Earle was free, but his arms were almost numb from being over his head for so long, and he kept wiggling his fingers, hoping the feeling would return.

He felt threatened by the nudity even more than the angry words. He’d seen Daddy naked plenty of times, but it had never seemed scary. He wished Newt would put the sheet back around his body or at least move back.

“Bathroom’s right down the hall,” Newt said, and led the way. “Follow me.”

They walked single file from the bedroom. Bobby kept his eyes averted, and when they stopped at the bathroom, Newt pointed.

“In there,” he said, but when the kid tried to close the door, Newt stopped it with his hand. “Leave it open.”

Bobby shivered but was afraid to disobey, so he relieved himself with his back to the door. Afterward, he tried to turn on the taps to wash his hands, but no water came out.

“The power is still off,” Newt said. “Just wipe your hands on that blue washrag.”

Bobby stared at the washcloth, trying to find the color blue beneath all the grime, and opted for wiping his hands on his pants instead. He stepped out of the bathroom, then hesitated, uncertain what he was allowed to do next.

Newt knew he had to do some fast-talking or the kid might make a run for it. With the shape he was in now, there wouldn’t be a lot Newt could do to stop him.

“Are you hungry, kid?”

Bobby shrugged; then, in spite of his intention not to, he couldn’t help but stare at the man’s blistered flesh.

Newt caught the look and figured he would try for some sympathy and explain himself in the process. He wanted the kid to get used to his body—to seeing him naked—and to being naked with him. But the latter would have to come later, after the shock wore off. And it would. He knew kids. They were the most resilient creatures on the planet. Most of them were taught to mind and please grown-ups, and Newt knew how to enrich the process to his gratification.

He walked the kid into the kitchen, then pointed at a chair. Bobby quickly took a seat. Newt sat down in the chair nearest the front door, knowing that with the lower half of his body shielded by the table, the kid would relax.

Then held out his hands and arms.

“We know it’s rude not to wear clothes in front of people, right? But as you can see, I got myself a really bad burn. While you were asleep, I had to go help with cleanup downtown.”

Bobby wanted to interject that he hadn’t been sleepy, he’d been tied to the bed, but he was too afraid to correct the story.

“Anyway, I fell in some stuff that was…was…like poison. It got all over my clothes, and it burned my skin before I could get them off. The doctor gave me some medicine. It will take a while for it to heal, but until I get better, it hurts too much for anything to touch my skin. Understand?”

Bobby nodded. He was still uncomfortable about all that naked skin, but he was relieved to learn he couldn’t catch what was wrong with the man.