For Her Eyes Only

Jessica glanced at the dim, flickering light in the hallway. Since she’d been admitted, she’d spent most of her time sleeping and was still confused about the time that had actually passed.

“Is the power still off?”

He nodded. The last few hours had been chaotic, and it would seem there was no end in sight.

“Yes, we’re still operating on generators, although I’m told that the crews are out in full force, but the mudslides keep knocking new poles down. I’m sure it won’t be long before power is restored. For now, all you need is a bed.”

Briefly fingering the small white patch of gauze above her right eyebrow, she winced. “That and a new head of hair.”

“We didn’t cut away all that much,” Noah said.

Jessica tried to smile. “That’s easy for you to say.”

He smiled and patted her on the knee. “It’s not so bad. And it will grow back. You’ll see.”

She sighed. “Sorry. I don’t usually whine. After all, what’s a little missing hair compared to everything else that’s been happening.”

The smile disappeared from Noah Howell’s face as he thought back. Olivia Stuart. No matter how hard they’d tried, it hadn’t been enough to save her, and somehow, that still surprised him. Just before she died, she’d whispered the word “coal.” Soon afterward, they’d lost her. Masking his weariness, he tried to focus his concerns on the patient before him.

“You have the instructions the nurse gave you. I’ll see you back in my office in a few days to remove the stitches, okay?”

A few days. What else, Jessica wondered, could happen between now and then? She nodded. “Okay.” Then she added, “These phones aren’t working, I don’t have my cell, and I need to call my sister so she can come get me and take me home.”

Dr. Howell handed her his phone. “Use this.”

The line was busy. “I’ll have to try again after I get dressed.”

Moments later, she was alone. She glanced at the clock. It was close to five p.m. She thought of going home to a house without power, without refrigeration—possibly without a means of communication since her phone was still on her desk at work. She looked down at the wad she’d made of the covers and tugged at the neck of the hospital gown she was wearing. While the aspect of those discomforts was disheartening, the idea of crawling into her own nightgown—and into her own bed—was enough to make it all worthwhile.

She sat up and looked out the window. On the surface, everything about Grand Springs seemed the same. The lush green of the majestic mountains marking the skyline of the city were capped by low, overhanging clouds, but for now, the rain had stopped. The sky was dark and overcast. Night would come early.

Dusk was near. Normally, streetlights would be coming on and people would be closing down businesses and hurrying home for the evening meal. But not tonight. The streets were eerily empty, and the lack of vehicles on the roadways seemed an ominous sign of impending doom.

Suddenly, she wanted to be home. To find the familiar within her own house before dark. Throwing back the covers, she got out of bed and went to the closet. Brenda had brought her clean clothes as well as the discount flowers. At least she wouldn’t have to go home in torn and bloody clothing.

But getting dressed wasn’t as simple as she’d expected it to be. Every time she leaned down, the room started to spin and she was forced to grab onto the bed to keep from falling. It took all she had just to put on her underwear and jeans, and by then she was in a cold sweat. Barefoot and clutching a T-shirt to her chest, she staggered to a nearby chair, where she sat staring at the tennis shoes still in her closet. They were less than a yard away and it might as well have been a mile. Hating this feeling of helplessness, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall.

“Bug breath.”

It was a fair comment on her condition, as well as her state of mind.

* * *

This time when Stone entered Vanderbilt Memorial, he went in the front door and took the stairs on the right to the third floor. He came out of the stairwell, his long stride carrying him down the hall with single-minded intent. Under the weak glow of the generator-powered lighting, the shadows beneath his eyes seemed darker, the strain lines at the corners of his mouth deeper, and the sun-bleached highlights in his hair gleamed like wheat in a noonday sun. His expression was grim. It was what his friends called his “cop face.” But all he needed was some more rest. And that would come, after he’d seen for himself that Jessie was really all right. He’d tried to talk himself out of this trip all the way to the hospital, yet when he’d parked and gotten out of his car, he knew he would never have been able to rest without seeing her face…hearing her voice…even suffering the guilt he would feel when he saw her. He had to know she was all right. Then he could rest.

“Richardson, haven’t you gone home yet?”

Stone paused and turned. Noah Howell was coming out of a room he’d just passed.

“Hi, Doc. I thought I would look in on Jessie Hanson. Last night, they said she’d been put in 339. Do you know if she’s still there?”

Noah nodded. “But not for long. I just released her to go home. In fact, I’m on my way to the nurse’s desk to call her sister to come and get her.”

Stone didn’t stop to think why he was offering, he just blurted it out before he changed his own mind.

“Don’t bother. I’ll see that she gets home okay.”

Noah grinned. Stone’s defenses went up.

“Get that look off your face,” Stone warned. “Just because I’m concerned about an old friend, it doesn’t mean anything. Hell. I dated her sister once. Besides, she’s just a kid.”

“If my memory serves, she’s twenty-six, old buddy. That’s hardly robbing the cradle,” Noah said.

Stone ignored the comment and knocked, waiting for an invitation to enter. When it came, he went in, unprepared for the woman inside.

* * *

Jessica jerked as the knock sounded on her door. Still sprawled in the chair with the T-shirt clutched to her chest and expecting one of the hospital staff, she spoke without thinking.

“Come in.”

When Stone walked into the room, she gasped and grabbed her shirt with both hands, holding it up beneath her chin.

“How dare you!” she muttered, and tried hard to glare, but frowning made her head hurt worse.

Stone was transfixed. He’d expected her to be safe in bed and covered up with a sheet, not half dressed and sprawled out in a chair with a shirt clutched to her front like a shield. All he could think to say was “You told me to come in.”

Jessica’s lower lip slid forward. “But I didn’t know it was you.”

She looked so lost and hurt sitting there. Stone fought the urge to hold her.

“Sorry, do you want me to leave?”

She nodded, then groaned. If only she could remember to speak instead, it would be a lot less painful.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She grimaced, closing her eyes to steady the sudden sway of the room.

“Of course I’m not all right!” She sighed, trying to relax the tension knotting at the back of her neck.

Stone frowned. The past two years had certainly changed one thing about Jessie. She never used to be so angry.

“I told Doc Howell I’d take you home.”

Jessica’s eyes flew open, and the shirt began to slip. When it revealed two mounds of creamy flesh held fast beneath a white lace bra, Stone reacted by pointing at the T-shirt.

“You gonna wear that home or just carry it?”