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No.
I close the tie to the robe as I race out of the room and down the stairs behind Willa.
The front door to the inn is wide open, and I skid to a halt as I make it to the covered porch.
Off to the side, I get a better look at the man lying on his back, eyes closed. Blood is coming from his mouth, and Keller is beside him with his hands on his face, trying to rouse him. Willa has a phone to her ear.
“Come on, buddy. Wake up,” Keller urges.
“Did I kill him?” I screech.
“Nah, my brain’s just rattled a bit,” a husky voice answers my question as the stranger opens his left eye and brings his hand to his jaw.
“Don’t move. You hit your head pretty hard,” Keller commands.
“I’m fine,” he croaks as he sits up. “What hit me?” he asks.
“A lamp,” I inform him.
He brings his one open eye to me. “A what?”
“A lamp. I thought you were a murderer or something, and I threw a lamp at you.” It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.
“A murderer?” he repeats.
“You startled me. I heard banging on the window, and then I looked up, and there you were,” I try to explain.
Trixie comes out to the porch, carrying some wet cloths and alcohol. She goes down to have a look at him.
“Oh my, you’ve got quite the lump on the back of your head. Can you open your right eye?” she asks him.
He tries but struggles to blink it open.
“There’s something in it,” he cries.
“It could be glass from the window. Can you stand?” she asks.
Keller grabs his hand and hoists him to his feet, and Aunt Trixie leads him to the steps of the porch.
“Willa, grab some warm water and a few extra towels, and I’ll try and flush the eye.”
Willa hurries inside and returns with a pot of water and a stack of towels.
After Trixie fusses over him for a few moments and assesses his injuries, she instructs Keller to take him over to the emergency clinic right away.
He protests, “I’m fine.”
“Maybe, but you still need to have that bump checked and your eye looked at. I think I got all the debris out, but I can’t be sure,” she tells him.
He groans.
“Go on now. Go let the doctor look you over. I’ll have dinner waiting for you when you get back.”
“What about the window?” he asks.
“I’ll have Bob come and board it up for the night, and we’ll worry about it tomorrow. Now, shoo,” she demands.
He begrudgingly follows Keller to his truck. As he passes me, I can see the bruise starting to color beneath the stubble on his jaw.
