West of Want (Hearts of the Anemoi) (4 page)

Resolved, Ella pressed the edge of her fork into the pancake. It slipped, splattering syrup onto the tray. “Damn!” She cleaned up the spill, but couldn’t wipe all the stickiness off the fork handle. Cutting pancakes one-handed with your weak hand was a lot more difficult than it seemed. She sighed and attempted it again and again until she finally managed to free a few mangled bites. Giving up on cutting her food, she speared the whole sausage patty with her fork and ate it that way. She shoved the rest of the tray away.

She wanted to sleep, but found she couldn’t get her mind to stop churning. Every worry demanded airtime in her thoughts until she simply itched to get the hell out of there.

Maybe getting out of bed would help. Ella threw the light covers back and shifted one leg at a time over the edge. Keeping her immobilized right arm against her chest, Ella held onto the bed with her left hand and rose to her feet. Her back muscles ached and her head swooned, but she kept herself upright as she shuffled to the bathroom door and flicked on the light.

Her gaze went immediately to the mirror and the horror show that was her appearance. “Holy shit,” she murmured. The whole right side of her face was swollen and bruised from cheekbone to eye. She had a nice gash on her cheek with three—she leaned in closer—no, four stitches. Her lips looked like she could use a whole tube of Chapstick and never get them soft again. And that wasn’t even mentioning her limp, messy hair or the dark circles under her brown eyes. The latter she couldn’t really blame on the accident.

Relief flooded through her when the doctor arrived a little before noon. She was ready to be back in her own bed. Well, it wasn’t really hers, but as close as she had, right now…

“I see Janet left a note in the chart that you were making arrangements for company at home for a few days.” He looked up from the computer where he’d been entering findings from examining her.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yes, I did. My, uh, a friend from D.C. will be over after work tonight. She’s going to stay with me a few days at least. She can telecommute, so it works out good.”

The doctor, an older man with a kind face and bushy eyebrows, nodded and smiled. “Good to hear. We’ll get you out of here as soon as the physical therapist can see you. In the meantime, a nurse will be in to go over your discharge instructions. You should follow up with your regular physician within forty-eight hours, and don’t hesitate to call the number on the discharge paperwork if anything worsens.”

A nurse came in just as the doctor left, a sheaf of paper in hand. In addition to the home-care instructions for her injuries, Ella also received a bundle of forms from admissions and billing. Normal people had loved ones who could take care of those things when you arrived in the ER, but, of course, she wasn’t normal. Not in that way, at least. And she couldn’t even use filling out the forms as a means of busying her hands and mind, because her right hand was largely immobilized and her left hand produced scrawl no better than a kindergartener. She set the paperwork aside.

In the afternoon, a gentle rain shower pattered against the window. The relaxing sound made her sleepy, so of course the physical therapist finally chose that moment to make an appearance. A young guy with far too much pep for her current mood delivered the disturbing news that she was going to have to use her injured shoulder and begin therapy right away. The ripping sensations that shuddered through her right side as he examined her nonexistent range of motion made his order seem frankly ludicrous, but injured muscles and ligaments apparently couldn’t sit idle too long without causing other problems down the line.

Begrudgingly, Ella agreed to the regimen he laid out before her and accepted the referral to a physical therapist who could see her day after tomorrow. Even without the sling, she found herself cradling her arm under her breasts.

As the therapist departed, a nurse breezed in and settled a bundle of fabric on the foot of the bed. “They cut your jacket and top off when you came in the ER, so here’s a fresh set of scrubs. How ’bout I help you into them?”

“No, that’s okay,” came Ella’s knee-jerk reaction.

The woman arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t risk your shoulder by attempting this yourself right now.”

“Oh, right. Guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“No worries, hon.”

Dressing was a torturous affair. Clearly, she’d be wearing a lot of button-up shirts for a while. She couldn’t have gotten the top over her head alone if she’d tried all day. She chuckled when she wondered how she would get it off again, but couldn’t share her thoughts with the nurse, who was under the false impression she’d have help at home this evening. Guess she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

After sitting around all day, her departure from the hospital went comparatively quickly. An orderly wheeled her from her room, through the front lobby, and out to the circular drive, while a second man carried her bag of personal items and flowers. A taxi already waited, so with the men’s assistance, she slipped from one seat right into the other. The gentle drumming of the rain and the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers filled the silence as she stared out the window.

The driver took her the back way to home. Down the busy strip of West Street, past fast food restaurants and car dealerships, to the historic part of Annapolis. At Church Circle, he veered right, then right again to head down the hill toward Eastport, her neighborhood that was really its own separate enclave within the town. Over the drawbridge they went, the metal surface a loud
whirr
under the tires, and Ella’s gaze couldn’t help but be drawn to the masts clustered together everywhere along the shorelines. A pang squeezed her chest when she thought about
True Blue
. She didn’t know her condition. And, likely, it would be a few days before she was up to checking her out.

A few quick turns later, the driver pulled up in front of the little yellow cottage that had been her brother’s home for the past three years. Now it was hers.

She dug into the bag with her ruined clothes and found her keys zipped into a side pocket of her windbreaker. Thank God. The cabbie carried Ella’s things to the front porch and waited while she ducked inside and grabbed some money. Ella threw a few extra dollars in when the older man offered to bring the flowers to her coffee table. It wasn’t like she could lift the heavy vase, and she’d become rather fond of them. So she agreed. The driver took the money with a smile and a “good-night,” and then Ella was all alone.

For the first time in the almost two months she’d resided here, she was truly alone. Marcus wasn’t here any longer. Not even in the form of his ashes. She didn’t even have the urn—

She shuffled over to her bag and yanked her tattered jacket onto the coffee table. Holding her breath, she grasped her right pocket. Sure enough… She grinned so wide it hurt her chapped lips. Somehow, the urn’s lid had stayed in her pocket through everything. With a groan, Ella reached up and settled the brass cover on the mantel. It was stupid, really, but having it there made her feel better. She could almost imagine she wasn’t alone.

Moving like an eighty-year-old, Ella grabbed a drink from the fridge and wandered around enough to turn on a few lights and her iPod. The light and music filled the house, feeling like company on the cold, rainy night. Her evening consisted of a dinner of chicken noodle soup at the table and reading the last few days’ newspapers that had piled up on the front porch, and even that was more than she probably should’ve done. When her eyelids drooped, Ella left her dinner mess for the morning and retreated slowly through the house, turning everything off on the way to the upstairs bathroom.

Once there, the idea of bathing took root, and sounded so delicious she gave in despite her exhaustion. What she really wanted was a shower, but her bandages made that impossible. She filled the tub with warm water, then turned to undress. No way she was getting her top off. Not by herself. She dug into a drawer and found a pair of scissors. Careful to hold the material out from her skin, Ella cut the shirt from V-neck to hemline and gingerly slipped it off her shoulders.

Washing her long hair one-handed proved a frustrating task, but she felt so much better when she was done she could hardly regret it. The water was warm and soothing, luring her to doze off. In the quiet stillness, she had the strangest sensation she wasn’t alone, but knew it was just the wishful thinking of her grief playing tricks on her. She sighed and pulled the plug with her toes before she really did fall asleep.

As she stumbled into her bedroom afterward, Ella decided to skip the bother of trying to get a shirt on. Instead, she simply slid under the thick pile of covers. Cold at first, they warmed quickly. She arranged the pillows as the nurse had suggested to keep from rolling onto her right side. Achy as her shoulder was, though, Ella was pretty sure even the slightest movement in that direction would wake her right back up.

Her body melted into the inviting comfort of the big bed. She lingered for long moments right at the cusp of unconsciousness. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“I feel you watching over me. Thank you for being here. I love you,” she murmured, thoughts of her dead twin the last she had before finally drifting off to sleep.

As compelling as all of those reasons were, they paled in comparison to the one that kept him rooted to her side since she’d fully regained consciousness. When he was in her presence, a fundamental sensation of peace flowed through him. The first time he’d felt it, he’d nearly gone to his knees in sheer relief and surprise. For long, wondrous moments, the ancient pain and sadness and humiliation lifted. Sheer ease of heart, mind, and body surged through every molecule of his being. He couldn’t fathom an explanation, but the fact it kept happening when he was in her presence quite clearly meant it had something to do with her.

He had to learn more. And, in the meantime, he had to soak in every iota of her life-giving energy. It had been eons since he’d felt anything like it, and who knew when he would again. Maybe never. Definitely never.

But as the night passed and Ella slept, Zephyros resolved to right what he had wronged once and for all, before any further damage was incurred, before she became any more interesting. Now that she was at home, he had enough privacy to heal her, and then he would depart from this situation. Difficult though it would be to leave whatever it was about her that soothed him, he certainly couldn’t lurk around the edges of her life for however much of it she had left.

In the morning, he’d do a full healing and settle his debt. Until then, he could give her something. Enough to get her through the night peacefully. He held his right palm up before him. The healing energy manifested in a diffuse ball and Zeph released it, sending a part of himself to surround and cover her in a blanket of soft, ambient light. The tight dip of her eyebrows eased, relaxed. Unfamiliar satisfaction snaked through his chest in a ribbon of warmth.

He sank into a large, overstuffed chair in the corner of the room. Head reclined against the soft cushion and hands clasped over his chest, he let himself soak in her influence and rest. In truth, he was weary. Just tired and drained and weighted down. But, even without her mysterious power, taking care of Ella in the smallest ways lifted a bit of that weight, made him feel lighter, buoyed. Useful. Good.

Good enough.

Well, maybe that one was a stretch.

Zephyros smiled ruefully and shook his head. Some things never changed.

…

Ella stretched as the gray morning light finally drew her into consciousness. The uninterrupted night of sleep had been so wonderful. To be sure, her shoulder throbbed with a stiff, hot ache, and her head pounded all down the right side, but for all that, she still felt about a thousand times better than last night. The full night’s rest left her feeling like someone had topped off her gas tank. And, miraculously, no dreams had intruded on her peacefulness. No terrifying thunderstorms, no gasping awake at the image of
True Blue
descending beneath the waves, no hauntingly desperate and ceaselessly fruitless searches for Marcus, no mortifying confessions from Craig, only to wake up again and realize it had only been a nightmare. A nightmare based on reality, anyway. Weren’t they all.

Easing up on her good elbow, Ella yawned and opened her eyes.

She inhaled a hard breath that almost choked her. And then she screamed.

A man sat in the dark corner of her room.

At her alarm, he flew to his feet, shoulders hunched, fists clenched, as if braced for battle. His gaze cut to her and the scream died in her throat. From where he stood in the shadows, his eyes glowed. She could swear they did. The odd blue light swept over her body, stole her very breath. Her flight instinct roared to life, but his presence paralyzed her. Not to mention her body wasn’t much capable of sudden movements at the moment.

“Who are you?” She shook her head. “What do you want?”

He held out his hands, relaxed the slightest bit. “Ella—”

She gasped. He knew her name. “How do you…”

The man stepped toward the foot of the bed, into the dim morning light. “Be well. I mean you no harm.”

“You!” Ella gaped at the male nurse from the hospital. Well, apparently not a nurse, given what the
real
nurse had said. “You were in my room!”

He nodded, hands still up in an unsuccessful gesture of reassurance. “Yes.”

“What do you want from me? Why are you here?”
Did he follow me? How did he even get in?
Ella’s mind formed new questions faster than she could ask them.

“I will explain everything. Just don’t upset yourself.”

“Upset myself? You’re in my house. You’re sitting there…what, watching me sleep? Please…please leave. I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Oh, God, and she was naked under these covers. Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I didn’t get a good look at you. It’s still too dark in here and I was too loopy at the hospital. Please, please just go.”

“I promise I have no intention of hurting you. In fact, just the opposite.”

Ella shook her head. Craziness. This was utter craziness. “Look, mister, I don’t know who you are, but you have to go. My”—she forced normalcy into her voice—“husband will be home from a trip early this morning. Get out now while you can still put this behind you.”