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“Head wounds bleed,” she replied in battle weary tones, the voice of experience.
That was all I heard, because it was then that I fainted.
Eddie was sitting by the bed when I woke up.
“Hey there, cariño,” he whispered.
“Don’t tell anyone I fainted,” I whispered back.
His eyes smiled even though his lips didn’t.
“They must have thought I was a lunatic, ranting about Dad with blood running down my face,” I noted.
“I don’t expect they thought much of anything except bein’ glad you were alive to rant.”
I figured he was right.
He helped me sit up and then took off to go to the waiting room to tell everyone I was okay while I filled out forms. I was praying, since I was on an unplanned, unscheduled vacation, that Smithie still had me insured.
Told you he took care of his girls. Probably no other strip joint had good insurance.
Then Eddie came back. “You should know, someone told Duke and Tex and they were both out there. Your mom too. I told ’em you were fine, I’d take care of you and sent them home. You can talk to them tomorrow.”
I pushed back the alarm of Mom knowing I’d been grazed by a bullet and focused on feeling grateful. Grateful I had friends who would sit around in the waiting room of a hospital to hear news of a graze and grateful that Eddie took care of them so I didn’t have to. Because I was grateful, I found his hand and I gave it a squeeze. He one-upped my squeeze by bringing my fingers up and brushing his lips against my knuckles.
The gesture was so intimate, my belly curled and the oxygen burned in my lungs.
It was then, Detective Marker arrived.
Eddie stood with me while Detective Marker talked to me,again.
The only good news Jimmy Marker gave me was that Shirleen was okay. She sustained a blow to the head. She was taken to Presbyterian/St. Luke’s Hospital and admitted for observation only, a minor concussion.
“Do you know where Dad is?” I asked Detective Marker.
He looked at me.
“Usually that’s my line,” he returned, trying to joke.
I stared at him.
He sighed, looked at Eddie, then back at me.
“We got witnesses who say he was taken by Slick. He was alive, but looked injured. No word, no sign. We’re lookin’ and we’ll keep lookin’,” he promised me.
I felt his words slice through me like a knife.
Eddie’s hand went into my hair and very gently he pressed the uninjured side of my head against him.
“I’m okay,” I lied, looking up at him.
He looked down. “You’re so full of shit.”
That got him a grin.
* * *
He tookme to his place, helped me undress and stepped into the shower with me. He turned me away from the spray and used the showerhead on me and, careful to avoid the dressing at my temple, he shampooed the blood out of my hair. We patted ourselves dry, I combed out my hair and Eddie put me to bed naked and held me tight.
