Invisible Ellen (18 page)

Temerity smiled. “No, sorry. I'm not sure they'd let you smoke in here anyway.” She found a chair and sat down.

“At this point, I'd climb onto the window ledge for a nicotine fix.” He smiled. “Who's your friend?”

Shocked, Ellen drew her face back around the doorjamb, her heart beating wildly, before she realized he was asking who Temerity had come to visit.

“Oh, a girlfriend—minor thing, no big deal, but like you said, it's boring to lie around all day. You were shot? That's exciting. Not fun, I'm sure, but it's more interesting than an appendectomy.”

“No, it was not fun,” he said. Ellen risked leaning around the door
again. He was turned away now, toward Temerity on the far side of the bed. “I'm J.B., by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, J.B. You live around here?”

“Not far, apartment over in Morningside.”

“Oh, I have a friend who lives in Morningside.”

“I'm sorry for them. You?”

“Midtown. I'm a musician, so I have to commute to the music center, and with my particular affliction”—she pointed to her eyes—“public transportation is a must.”

He grinned with a wry amusement. “Must be interesting, seeing the world through your eyes, if you know what I mean, no offense intended.”

“None taken,” Temerity said cheerfully. “I know what you mean. I always think it must be interesting to see the world from anyone else's point of view. I think it might be a better place if we all tried it more often.” There was a quiet moment while they both considered this and then Temerity asked, “What do you see?”

J.B. seemed taken aback by the question. “Oh, good things, bad, lots of things that could be better than they are. Some people give up, some people go on trying.”

“It's about the same from here,” Temerity said. “Are you going to be in here for long?”

“A few more days, at least.”

“Then back to your Morningside mansion?”

J.B. gave a short laugh, but then stopped himself as a cough mustered. “No. Then I'll be leaving town, pretty quick.”

“Why is that?”

“Let's just say the bullet they took out of me has owners, and they'll come looking for it.” Ellen saw his face darken, and he fixed his stare flatly on the wall.

“I'm guessing that means they didn't catch the person who did this?”

He shook his head and grimaced from the movement. The hand under the blanket came out to gingerly touch the bandage. “No such luck. And I've had a sudden loss of income, loss of merchandise, and an inability to finance future business endeavors.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Got a son. He's in Flagstaff, Arizona. Talked to him this morning. He said I can crash with him for a few weeks, but he didn't sound too happy about it. Can't say I blame him.”

“Kids today,” Temerity said.

J.B. managed a weak laugh. “Yeah.” He yawned; his eyelids seemed to be getting heavy.

“So, not to pry, but I am curious. Did you know who shot you?”

“I knew him, not well, he was a kid, a . . . customer who decided it would be a better deal if he cut out the middleman. Me.”

“He robbed you. Do you think you'll be able to recover your . . . stuff?”

“Not damn likely. The guy who did this isn't exactly the kind of person who thinks things over and has a change of heart. In fact, I'm not sure he has a heart.” He snorted softly and then winced. “Most likely any heart he had was ripped out of him when he was little. No hope after that. Probably a good time for me to get out of the business anyway. Time to start over.”

“That sounds like a healthy attitude,” Temerity said.

“Yeah, it would to me too if I weren't so tired.” His lids came to half-mast as he said it. “Morphine's kickin' in. Sorry if I get slurry, but . . .” He licked his lips and tried to straighten his head.

“I'll let you sleep,” Temerity said. “That's the best thing you can do right now.” She stood.

“Thank you, young lady,” J.B. said, closing one eye to prop the other open. “Not many people would take the time to talk to somebody they don't even know.”

“I like talking to people I don't know. Breaks up the monotony, you know, same old voices, over and over. I'd like to come back, maybe tomorrow?”

“That would be nice, to have something to look forward to.” The words connected to each other as he lost control of his speech.

“You feel better,” Temerity said softly. “You never know, maybe the police will catch the guy while you're napping.”

The response was a soft snore. J.B. was already out. Temerity turned and felt her way out of the room.

She took Ellen's shoulder and they walked down the hall in silence until they reached the elevators, then Temerity said, “He seems like a kind soul, actually.”

“He likes dogs,” Ellen said, remembering how gentle he'd always been with the mangy old poodle. She wouldn't have wanted to touch it.

“That's always a good sign.”

Ellen made a mental note to try petting Mouse more often. He certainly seemed to seek her out, but she'd always thought that was for warmth. “Can we go now?” she asked.

“Don't you want to see if we can find out anything about Irena's baby?” Temerity asked. “I mean, we're here.”

Ellen did want to find out. So they went to the pediatric wing and walked slowly through the halls. This was much more difficult for Ellen. For some reason, seeing children sick was much harder to reconcile than the elderly. And the parents all seemed so lost. Ellen was grateful that it wasn't long until she spotted Irena.

Through an open door, she saw the Russian woman asleep in a
chair near a sterile crib draped with plastic sheeting, her head crooked at an awkward angle. It was difficult to see inside the sheeting for the humidity. Ellen explained the scenario to Temerity, who whispered, “Sounds like pneumonia. Or some kind of bronchitis maybe.”

“Will the kid die?” Ellen asked, watching the exhausted figure of Irena and debating whether or not the demise of the child would be a relief for her, though a sad one.

“Probably not,” Temerity said. “I had it when I was a kid. As long as the baby gets the right antibiotics and care, which it sounds like he is, he should be okay. Do you want to talk to her?”

“What?” Ellen drew back, a knee-jerk reaction.

“I didn't think so. We'll stop by tomorrow when we come to see J.B.” They began their stroll to the exit. “So nobody at work sees you either?”

“Not for a long time. I mean, I had to be interviewed and stuff when I first got the job.” She gritted her teeth at the thought. “They didn't say so, but I know that my . . . how I look . . . is why they put me on the graveyard shift, so no one would have to see me.” Her cheeks burned as she recalled for Temerity the experience of the human resources woman who had physically recoiled when Ellen had come into her office, and then, embarrassed, nervously kept her focus on her paperwork and never looked directly at her again. She found it easier to tell Temerity the story than she thought, because Temerity would never see the face that had made the woman in human resources stare, horrified, her mouth an unguarded grimace, her eyes wide and bulging.

“I'm sorry,” Temerity said softly.

“Don't be,” Ellen told her sincerely. “It's been great for me. I can work on my own and I never have to deal with, you know, people.”

“I think I do know.” Temerity patted her arm. “You haven't had many people to trust, have you?”

This irrefutable fact was a punch in the gut, but, much the same way a fighter learns to tense his muscles to take the hit, Ellen automatically deflected the blow off of emotional calluses developed from long practice. “Not many,” she muttered, trying to think of even one. She hadn't trusted anyone, at first out of necessity, but then it had become habit. All her life she had watched attentively and seen that some people were good, loving, caring, giving. It had been enough for her that those people and relationships existed. Allowing herself to hope for it personally would have been begging for a beating, so she'd not permitted herself that luxury.
That was okay,
she told herself, as she did every single day.
It doesn't have to happen to me, it doesn't happen for lots of people, as long as it's out there, as long as it could be true.

Ellen turned to gaze at Temerity's face, and felt a wash of relief.

Proof.

T
ell me more about Irena,” Temerity said as they made their way through the hospital's maze of hallways.

So Ellen did. She told her the whole story as she knew it. Starting with Irena's fear-filled existence, she moved on to how the immigrant's misery had been compounded by the Boss's sexual harassment. Then Ellen told the saga of discovering the Boss's fake-receipt ruse, how she had stolen the conned money from him and passed it on to Irena anonymously with the note. She could not remember ever talking so much in her life, but explaining the world she saw to Temerity had become like writing the story in her notebook, and the words just flowed out of her until her mouth felt dusty and her throat was dry.

And still she talked, about Irena's cautious new optimism and how it was cut short by the emergency phone call. She finally concluded with the Crows' attempts to entertain themselves with information from the hapless Irena.

At some point, they had stopped walking, and Ellen was surprised, when she looked around, to find that they had exited the hospital and were standing off to the front of the entrance.

Ellen cleared her scratchy throat. “So what do you think?”

Temerity held out both arms, stepped forward and hugged a confused, and suddenly rigid, Ellen.

“I think that you are an amazing person, and I'm really glad you coldcocked your way into my life. Now can I tell you
something
?”

“I'm pretty sure it's your turn.” Ellen grimaced at her own joke.

Temerity laughed out loud. “Who knew you could be so loquacious?”

Encouraged, Ellen admitted, “Not me. But that's because I don't know what ‘loquacious' means.” She made a mental note to check her worn dictionary.

“Talkative,” Temerity told her through her bubbling amusement. “The only reason I know what it means is because Justice told me that's what I was, among other things. Okay, here's my story: I don't have many friends. Lots of acquaintances, but the reality is that most seeing people aren't comfortable being friends with a blind chick. It's not their fault. I mean, I have a few girlfriends, other musicians mostly, who I can talk to about music and other stuff too, when we take the time, but I know it's not comfortable for them to meet me out somewhere, for lunch say, much less go see a movie or visit a museum. What would be the point?” She sighed and turned her head toward a light, moist breeze that promised rain. The resulting clouds made the late afternoon darker than usual. Not that Temerity would know that. “I understand, of course, but the unavoidable result is that, more often than not, I'm on my own. That's definitely been a factor in my becoming a competent musician. I had lots of spare time to practice when I was a kid. Not too many blind kids my age at the Braille Institute. Which, I like to remind myself, is a good thing overall. If it weren't for Justice, I think I'd just give up on people and play violin by myself all day long.”

It was Ellen's turn to sigh. “Heaven,” she half sang.

Temerity laughed so hard she doubled over and held her stomach. When she had wiped the tears from her eyes, she said, “Oh, I'm so glad I met you. You want to get something to eat?”

Of course Ellen wanted to get something to eat. After only one sandwich and a few crackers, she was stunned to still be standing. “I don't go to restaurants,” she reminded.

“Fine. Let's pick something up and go to your house since it's closest. Okay?”

Resistance was futile. So Ellen found herself standing outside a restaurant while Temerity went in and ordered something she called “taco salads.” Though Ellen was concerned about the use of the word “salad,” she was reassured by the weight of the brown paper bag as she carried it back to her house. When they arrived, she was presented with a new problem. There was no table, and only the one stool that pulled up to the kitchen counter. When she mentioned this, Temerity said, “Fine. I'll sit on the counter—it's safer for me to eat sloppy food over the sink anyway—and you can have the stool. That way, you can watch outside. Anything interesting?”

Ellen took up her usual post, but everything was quiet, so they devoted themselves to eating. Much to Ellen's relief, the “salad” was a hearty pile of beans, beef, cheese, guacamole, sour cream, fresh tomatoes and lettuce piled into a huge crispy shell. It was delicious, and Ellen enthusiastically consumed even the greens and the fresh tomato, which, before, she would have pushed aside. Temerity too, ate with relish, and Ellen watched her system. Using her fingers to feel the food, she broke off a piece of the shell, piled it with the other ingredients, and ate it like a chip and dip. “Yummy!” she said with her mouth full.

The heaped pile of nourishment was so filling, in fact, that Ellen couldn't finish it all. She knew if she'd been alone with no other
distractions, she probably would have polished it off just for something to do, but today, after eating only half, a glance out the window drew her interest.

“Someone is in Cindy's apartment,” she said.

Temerity paused with a section of the shell loaded with refried beans and sour cream halfway to her face. “Is it her?”

Ellen watched as first Cindy and then Janelle came into Cindy's kitchen. The tall, elegant black woman stood at the window for a moment, gazing out at the dead courtyard, its morbid appearance now replete with the addition of police tape. Then she shook her head sadly and turned away.

She was reporting all of this to Temerity when the blind girl asked, “And who's that?”

Ellen heard the crunch of gravel, and shifted her eyes to the alley to see Edward Newland and a younger man in a suit with a face as interesting as dry white toast making their way toward Cindy's back door.

“That,” said Ellen, “is a pissed-off lawyer.”

Newland did indeed look aggressively angry. His companion just seemed slightly annoyed to be there, glancing around with obvious disgust. As they approached the landing, Ellen heard Edward say, “We'll try this side first. She won't be expecting us to show up at the back.”

He went up the two steps and knocked smartly. In a moment, Janelle's face appeared, first in the window, and then she opened the door but held it firmly and blocked the opening with her body.

“What do you want?” she asked in a steady voice.

“Is Ms. Carpenter at home?”

“Yes, but what do you want?”

“I have something to give her,” Edward growled like a mean, wounded dog. It was easy to hear, even from across the tiny courtyard.

“Give it to me.”

“No can do. It needs to go straight to her.”

Janelle put one hand on the jamb and looked Edward straight in the eye. “Listen. I know we had some hard words at the hospital, and I'm really sorry for your wife, but this is not necessary. We'll pay you back for the doctor and hospital fees. I'm already talking to my insurance company about the adoption—it will probably all be covered. If not, we'll pay it out of our own pockets. I told you that.”

Though Ellen couldn't see his face, she could well imagine Edward Newland sneering as he said, “Oh, this is a different issue. I'm suing her.”

Janelle put one hand to her forehead and took a deep breath. “And what,” she asked in an exhausted voice, “do you hope to get out of suing someone who has nothing? Look around, what could you possibly expect you would get?”

“That doesn't concern you,” he said, and the sharpness of his voice was so full of himself that it sliced clearly up to the second floor. “Just get her. Or I'll do it myself.”

Janelle turned around and Cindy, looking terrified, appeared in the doorway. Janelle stayed right next to her.

“Cindy Carpenter?” the younger man standing with Newland asked. When Cindy nodded hesitantly, he thrust papers at her hand and she took them automatically, holding them away from her as though she thought they might burst into flame. “You have been served,” he said. With a nod to Edward, the man turned, walked back across the gravel and disappeared down the alley.

“What . . . what is this?” Cindy asked.

The taller woman laid a reassuring arm across the girl's shoulders. “It's papers, just papers.” She took the bundle from Cindy's shaking hands. “We'll call a lawyer when we get home and sort things out. Go finish packing your things.” Cindy did as she was told and Janelle turned back to Edward Newland.

“Really?” she asked. “You didn't even want her baby, and now you're going to put her through this?”

Edward turned outward a bit and looked up at the empty, darkening gray sky as though it were an especially clear night and he was admiring the stars. Instinctively, Ellen moved back from the screen a few inches. “I never said I didn't want her baby, just not
that
one. Because of her actions, my wife has suffered undue emotional distress and put extreme pressure on our relationship. All of her pain and suffering have clearly been predicated by Cindy Carpenter's deception. And Cindy Carpenter is going to make restitution.”

Janelle braced herself by crossing her arms and setting her uneven feet. “Look, I'm sorry you're hurt and disappointed, but what do you hope to gain from this?”

Edward Newland put his hands in his pockets and rocked from side to side, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “No more than what we originally contracted for.”

“You are not getting my brother's baby,” Janelle said, still controlled, but each word was a shard of ice in a strong wind. “And you have no legal right to take her, you know that.”

“Oh, I know the law,” he snipped. “I did a little research, it seems your baby mama is wanted for some minor drug charges in her home state. Since the DA and I went to law school together, those charges could land her in jail for up to four full years.”

“What do you want from her?” Janelle asked coldly.

He shrugged as if it were simple. “A baby, but this time I'll pick the father. I'll give her six months to recover.”

Janelle reeled back and stared in disbelief. Edward Newland turned away with deliberate slowness. Then, as though remembering something, he turned back. For the first time, Ellen could hear him struggling to control his own hurt as he said, “Oh, and part of the deal is not a word of this to anyone, especially not to my wife. She's been injured by Ms. Carpenter's negligent actions enough already.” His voice broke slightly. He turned and strode away. Ellen watched him wipe angrily at the tears he couldn't control.

“Holy shit,” Temerity whispered.

Across the way, Janelle closed the door and they both heard her double lock it as if that would protect Cindy from the threat outside. Ellen turned to Temerity. “Can he do that?”

“Which part? I mean, I'm not sure, but the whole scheme sounds like blackmail, I think. I mean, maybe he can pull off the suing part—you can basically sue anyone for anything, though I doubt many judges would let it go very far. But it sounds like what he's really threatening is to make her life miserable unless she does what he wants. He certainly seems to have both the resources and the revolting disposition to go through with those threats.”

Ellen thought about Susan Newland and the way she'd told her husband that he was going home with her and the baby, or alone. “Do you think his wife knows about this?”

“From what he just ended with, I'm guessing no. Plus, she didn't strike me as someone who was without scruples.”

Ellen figured it was better to ask. “And scruples, in this case, would mean that she . . . ?”

“Had a conscience that told her not to do something so downright egregious, that's what they mean in this case anyway.” Ellen sighed, and Temerity heard it, of course. She added, “‘Egregious' means ‘really evil,' by the way. Great word.”

“Oh,” Ellen exclaimed, surprising herself. “I've seen that word in a book.” She didn't, however, say that when she had sounded it out, she had thought it was pronounced “e-gree-ghee-ess.”

“What's that?” Temerity pointed one finger to the ceiling.

It took a second to shift her focus from below to above, but when she did, Ellen heard the footsteps as well.

“Never a dull moment in exciting Morningside,” Temerity commented dryly.

The footsteps moved around the building and in a few seconds Ellen could see the young man on the roof. It was fully twilight by now, but it was plenty light enough for her to make him out; he was headed for the large vent.

“It's him,” she hissed. “It's the guy who shot T-bone,” she added, reverting to the nickname in her excitement.

Temerity whistled a low note. “Guess he made bail.”

From the street below, a police siren erupted suddenly and the man froze, and then backtracked, diving for cover behind a fan unit the size of a refrigerator, rusted with long disuse.

“Why would he come back here?” Temerity seemed stunned.

“Not sure,” Ellen said and immediately felt rotten. Was she really going to lie to the only person who'd ever shared her own secrets? She didn't want to say more, she didn't want to free the partially formed thought that had been nagging at her, but it was like a giant hot-air balloon gathering lift, straining at its tethers. Ellen's deeply entrenched reticence to expose herself was holding on to those ropes with its thousand tiny hands, pulling with all its might to keep the
idea pinned to the ground. Against every inclination Ellen opened her mouth, and with a mighty wrench, the balloon lifted off, floating up into the open air, broken ropes trailing behind it as Ellen said, “Actually, I think I do know.”