Faithless Angel (8 page)

“There’s been an accident.”

An accident. The car came from nowhere and
—

She slammed her mind shut on the memory and tried to focus on the words spilling past Jesse’s lips.

“… Daniel tried to go out the upstairs window. Bradley’s already at the emergency room. Get some street clothes on. They’re waiting for us.”

“Us?”

“You’re Daniel’s foster mother. You have to sign the admission papers, insurance forms—all that stuff. Bradley took the Suburban to the hospital. I’ve got his Celica. I’ll drive you—”

“Hold on.” She held up one hand and gripped the door frame with her other. Wood bit into her palm. The pain should have been enough to dispel the fuzziness from her brain. It wasn’t. Jesse’s form blurred and Faith rubbed at her eyes—not only to erase the last remnants of sleep, but to wipe away the images pounding through her head. The memories.

An accident … Massive internal injuries … Head trauma … You’ll have to give permission for us to operate
—

“You okay?” Jesse’s voice cut through the sudden drumming in her ears.

“I …” The words fell short, stuck in the knot in her throat. She swayed for a split second; then Jesse was beside her, holding her.

She should have welcomed the support. She would have, but he was too warm, and she’d been cold for much too long. And worse, he saw too damned much with those eyes of his.

“It’s okay.” Gentle fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of her neck, his palm moving in a gentle massaging motion that sapped her strength even as she summoned it. His touch lulled her; his words were so soft, filled with such conviction, she actually thought it might be okay. But the memories persisted.

Massive injuries … The prognosis isn’t good. We’re sorry, Ms. Jansen. So sorry
…

She went rigid, her hands pushing at him, as if putting some distance between them would stop the flow of memories.

Inches, then feet separated them as she backed toward the wall. The night air was warm, humid, with only an occasional breeze. Still, she was ice cold. She hugged her arms about her, desperate to
ease the chill that gripped her from the inside out.

Jesse studied her for a long moment. Something flashed in his dark eyes, and she got the inexplicable feeling that he wanted to reach out to her. Something held him back, though. Some indefinable emotion that etched severe lines in his face and held his large body stiff.

The clock in the hall ticked away the seconds, the sound louder somehow in the sudden hush that settled around them.

Finally, Jesse shoved his hands into his pockets and said, “We have to get to the hospital.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I have papers that will sign over Faith’s House to Bradley. You can take them to him, get his signature, and he’ll be the foster parent for all the kids.” She rushed toward the couch, frantically searching the darkness for her purse. “They got a little messed up yesterday. I was going to have them redone, but maybe they’ll suffice. Just let me get them—”

Jesse’s hands closed over her shoulders as she pulled the stained legal papers from the pocket of her bag. “They’re ruined, Faith. There’s no way the hospital will accept those. They aren’t in the habit of setting themselves up for any kind of lawsuit.”

“So call Estelle. She’s the foster rep. She can sign any papers—”

“Bradley tried. He couldn’t reach her. You have to come with me.”

We did all we could. We’re sorry. Sorry … Sorry
…

But even as the words beat through her head, reminding her of the past, the warmth of Jesse’s hands proved calming. Heat spread through her, giving her the courage to nod her head when she wanted only to sink to the couch and bury her face in the pillows.

“What happened to him?” Her lips trembled with each word.

“He broke his arm.”

Unconsciously, she rubbed at her arms, her chest tightening as she imagined Daniel’s pain. The poor kid—

She fought against the budding concern and concentrated on the goose bumps prickling her flesh.

“… need your permission to treat him,” Jesse was saying. “They want to keep him for a few days.”

She turned a questioning gaze on him. “For a broken arm?” The bud of concern blossomed into panic.

Jesse hesitated as if gauging her reaction. His dark eyes studied her with a thoroughness that made her swallow nervously. Then one lean finger came up to push a strand of hair from her cheek. A tingle sizzled down her spine. “The arm was a result of a suicide attempt, Faith. He didn’t try to crawl out the window at Faith’s House. He jumped.”

“Jumped?” The word was little more than a gasp, her brain refusing the truth even as Jesse’s voice rang loud and clear in her ears.

“His medical records from Booker Hall show three suicide attempts in the past two years. The doctor who’s in charge of his care has to give him a thorough evaluation, make sure he’s out of danger before he releases him to your custody. In the meantime, you’ve got a stack of paperwork waiting for you.”

She wanted to tell Jesse to leave. That she didn’t care about Daniel or his suicide attempt, or if the whole town were to catch fire with her smack-dab in the middle. But strangely enough, as she stared deep into his brown eyes that were so disturbingly
familiar, she couldn’t make herself say the words.

“I’ll just be a few seconds.” She pulled away from him and rushed into her bedroom. Minutes later she was back, dressed in black leggings and an oversize T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She grabbed her purse and followed Jesse to the door.

“You don’t have a car,” he remarked several seconds later as they pulled out of her driveway in Bradley’s prized cherry red Celica.

“The Suburban is mine,” Faith told him. “I left it at Faith’s House because Bradley needed it for the kids. It has a lot more room than this little car. Besides, it took me a few months just to get him to park this thing at Faith’s House. He was afraid it would get vandalized.”

“He doesn’t seem like the flashy sports car type.”

“He really isn’t, but there’s just something about this car. His link to his wanna-be lawyer years, he calls it. And nothing short of an act of Congress could get him to tote any of the kids around in it.” She knew she was chattering on, but she couldn’t stop herself. Talking kept her from thinking, from acknowledging the deep-seated dread seeping through her body. “I’m surprised he let you drive it. What did you promise him? Your firstborn?”

Jesse smiled, a lazy tilt to his lips that made Faith regret her words. She caught her bottom lip and focused on the road ahead, her purse gripped tight in her arms.

He was so close … just the slightest shift in her seat and her arm would brush his.

“So what have you been doing for transportation?” His words cut into her thoughts.

“I don’t go out much, and when I do, walking suits me just fine.” Her words were short, clipped,
harsher than she meant them. She stared at the blaze of lights that streaked by them as they drove toward St. Joseph’s Hospital.

“Walking is dangerous in this neighborhood. Aren’t you scared?”

“Of what? After what I’ve been through—” She bit her lip to stop the flow of words, but they came anyway. “There isn’t much that would scare me right now.”
Except you
, a voice added silently.

As if he heard, his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Faith’s gaze was drawn to his scarred hand, barely visible in the shadows. As bad as the scar was, she knew the cut must have been deep. Painful. Her fingers itched to reach out and soothe that pain. She dug her nails into the soft black leather of her purse and forced her attention back to the road.

“Everybody’s scared of something.”

“Not me. Not anymore.” She gave him a pointed stare. “And what do you care, anyway?”

“I care, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t,” she retorted.
Please don’t
, her mind echoed.

“Dammit, I don’t want to,” he started, “but it’s not that simple—” The rest of his words were lost in the wail of an ambulance that raced by them and hung a sharp right just a few feet ahead at a blazing neon sign that read
EMERGENCY
.

Faith wanted to ask Jesse what he meant, but he was already maneuvering the Celica into the hospital drive.

Minutes later, Faith, with Jesse at her side, his hand warm beneath her elbow, walked into the brightly lit emergency room. Her heart clenched at the sight of the nurses’ station.

An accident, Ms. Jansen … Massive trauma
…

She pushed the thoughts away and summoned her courage. “I’m Faith Jansen,” she said to the woman behind the desk. “I’m here about Daniel Michaels.”

“Just the woman we’ve been waiting for.” The nurse smiled and handed Faith a clipboard stacked with forms. “Just return these when you’re done.”

“Told you so,” Jesse murmured when Faith cast an incredulous look at the nurse.

An enormous amount of paperwork later, Faith sat in the ER waiting room and sipped a cup of strong black coffee. Bradley came through a pair of swinging double doors and dropped down beside her. His eyes were bloodshot, his expression tired. She quickly stifled the pang of guilt that went through her.

“I swear, that boy gave me the scare of my life,” Bradley muttered, rubbing his palms on his navy blue sweatpants.

“Exactly what happened?”

“Emily leaned out her own window a couple of rooms over just in time to see Daniel take a dive. I heard her scream and raced upstairs to find out what was going on. By the time I got outside, Jesse was already there loading Daniel into the Suburban, despite the boy’s cussing and screaming. That man sure can handle the rough ones. Even Mike was a little white when he saw Daniel’s arm. But Jesse came through in a pinch. Where is he?”

“He went to move your Celica. We had to park in a loading zone;”

“Loading zone?” Bradley’s face lit with worry, and Faith almost smiled.

“Calm down. You didn’t get towed. How’s Daniel?”

“He’s settled down, finally.” With a shake of his head, he added, “For the life of me, I can’t figure out how this happened. Mike had just climbed into bed. He didn’t even have time to close his eyes before Daniel made a beeline for the bathroom. Mike started to get up to go after him. He swears the boy didn’t have time to unzip his pants, much less unlock the window, pull a chair over, and climb through, but I’ll be damned if he didn’t.”

“But how—” Faith started, her words drowned out by the voice of the nurse who suddenly appeared at her side.

“Ms. Jansen?” the nurse asked.

“Yes?”

“The doctor said it’s all right for you to see Daniel now. He thinks the boy should hear that we’re keeping him for a few extra days from someone other than our staff. Since you’re his foster mother …”

Faith shook her head and started to protest, but before a syllable could pass her lips, Bradley nudged her arm. “Go on, Faith.” He pushed her up from her seat. When she turned pleading eyes on him, he shook his head. “I’d do this for you in a heartbeat. You know that. I love those kids, even the Daniels of the bunch. But I’m tired.” He rubbed his eyes and shook his head firmly. “I’m not used to doing this by myself.”

She opened her mouth to argue with him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she nodded.

The nurse led Faith down the ER hallway, the bright lights nearly blinding her. Not that she needed anyone to lead her around. She was all too familiar with the main floor and the trauma unit.

They stopped just short of the elevators and turned right, then proceeded down an unfamiliar hallway.

“Where are we going?” Faith asked.

“Psychiatric unit.” But Faith had already read the bold red letters emblazoned across a set of white double doors that loomed up ahead. These doors didn’t open automatically like all the rest in the hospital. Instead, the nurse punched a black button and identified herself into a speaker box just to the right. A beep sounded and the doors swung wide.

The nurse ushered her down another hallway, past a row of closed doors that Faith would have bet were locked. At the far end of the hall sat a nurses’ station filled with TV monitors of each room in the ward. Before they reached the station, the nurse stopped in front of one closed door. She pressed a black button and the door opened.

“Here you go,” she said, turning to Faith. She waved her inside. “When you’re done, just press the button and Vivian over there”—the nurse pointed to a gray-haired woman who sat in front of the monitors—“will let you out.”

Faith took two steps forward and the door shut behind her. She found herself alone in a dimly lit hospital room that looked like any other, with the exception of bars built into the thick window glass and the padded furniture—what little there was. The sparse furnishings consisted of a single chair and a hospital bed.

Her attention went to Daniel, who lay so calm and serene in the small bed that for a fleeting second, an image rushed to her mind of a young girl huddled in the darkness, haunted by nightmares, by her loneliness….

I’m scared
.

She shook the memory away. This wasn’t Jane. It didn’t matter that this boy was just as needy, just as scared. Daniel wasn’t Jane.

With that firmly in mind, Faith fixed her attention on the boy, his arm hidden in a thick white cast that covered from mid-bicep to wrist. The smell of disinfectant filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes to another wave of memories.

Sorry, Ms. Jansen. Sorry
.

She forced her eyes open and concentrated on Daniel. She would look in on him, make sure everything was okay; then her duty would be done. Tomorrow she would have new papers drawn up and sign the whole responsibility of Faith’s House over to Bradley. First thing tomorrow.

As she drew closer, she realized Daniel looked much smaller than she remembered. Younger, with his fine blond hair and his pale, almost sickly looking skin. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and traced a finger along his cheekbone. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. Her gaze traveled farther down his body. Fresh bruises covered the upper half of his chest, the marks disappearing beneath the thick white cast on his left arm.