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One
I bolted upright in bed, jarred awake. What had woken me up? I pressed my hand against my chest, my heart slamming against it as though trying to pound its way out. Blood thundered in my ears. The darkness and silence of the room only served to accentuate my heavy breathing. I glanced around my bedroom trying to determine what had woken me, but nothing appeared out of place or unusual.
Glancing toward the ceiling, I read the time reflected there. Two a.m. Fine. I still had three more hours I could sleep, and I needed every one of them. With a sigh of relief, I slipped back into my sheets, but before I could wiggle my butt into the mattress and shut my eyes, my cell phone began to ring and vibrate on the table. With a groan, I reached for it, mentally preparing myself for something awful because everyone knew only bad news came in the middle of night…or the random obscene call. However, since I’d gotten rid on a landline and only used cell, those middle-of-the-night calls had stopped, and I can’t say I missed them.
Out of habit, I read the caller ID. It was my elderly next-door neighbor. It was then I realized I’d missed a prior call from her, which was probably what had woken me.
“Lillian?” I croaked into my phone. I cleared my throat. “What’s wrong?”
“I fell, and I can’t move.” Lillian’s voice was reedy and weak, barely audible. “Help me.”
“Of course,” I replied as I slipped from my warm sheets. “I’ll be right there.”
I slipped on the jeans and long-sleeve T-shirt I’d been wearing last night. I was aware the shirt bore a definite spaghetti sauce splotch from dinner, but whatever, I didn’t have time, or want to take time, to find something else to wear. After shoving my feet into a pair of slippers, I retrieved Lillian’s house key from a drawer in the entry hall table.
I don’t usually have the keys of neighboring houses, but Lillian Branson had given me one so I could water her plants while she’d been away on her three-week around-the-world tour. Lillian had been my neighbor for a couple of years. She’d always been a healthy, active senior citizen, always on the go. She belonged to a group of similar-minded seniors who loved to travel, especially on cruises. She’d arrived home ten days ago with what she’d termed a “bad cold,” and had refused to see a doctor for something so minor.
Now, as I rushed out of my house and across our adjoining lawns, a tingle of guilt filled my belly. Should I have pushed Lillian harder to see a doctor? Maybe, but we were neighbors, not relatives and sometimes I had a tendency to stick my nose into other people’s business, especially family. But my sister was a doctor. I could have asked Brooke to stop by and take a look at Lillian. Now, that would have made Lillian madder than a wet hen, but with her only family being a grandson whom I’d never met, or even seen visit Lillian in all the time we’d been neighbors, I felt someone—i.e. me—should keep an eye on her. I realized I hadn’t done a good job at that.
I unlocked the front door and let myself in. I turned toward the alarm panel to deactivate it but I was surprised to find the house alarm already off. That was very unlike Lillian. I knew she used her alarm at night without fail.
“Lillian?” I shouted.
“In here,” she called weakly, followed by a bark from Baxter, her mixed-breed rescue dog. Baxter, who weighed close to eight pounds but believed himself closer to eighty, was always at Lillian’s side. Her protector angel. Baxter traveled everywhere with Lillian. If Baxter wasn’t invited, odds were, Lillian wasn’t going.
I followed the faint voice and barking to the kitchen where I found Lillian sprawled on the floor. Her head had a small gash. Fresh blood trickled down the side of her face. Baxter’s head rested on Lillian’s chest. It was only when I knelt beside her that Baxter’s head lifted.
“Oh, my goodness, Lillian. What happened?”
“I feel like such a ninny. You know I’ve had that cough for a while. I got to coughing my fool head off and came downstairs to get some water. The rug slipped as I was reaching for the glass and down I went.”
I heard my sister’s voice in my head warning me not to try to get Lillian up but to call for help instead. Broken hips in women of Lillian’s age were all too common.
“Sit still. You have a small cut on your head. Let me grab a towel.” I stood and walked around her island to get a clean dishtowel. As I did, I couldn’t help but notice the dirty glasses and plates piled in the sink. Lillian was one of the tidiest people I’d ever met. She hated disorder, so having dinner dishes in the sink and not in the dishwasher was totally out of character for her.
I found a towel and hurried back to where I’d left her on the floor. I pressed the clean material to her head. “Other than the headache from hitting your head, where else are you hurting?”
“My left hip. I landed on it when I fell.” She clicked her tongue as she shook her head. “I am so clumsy.”
I felt Lillian’s hip, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t know a broken hip unless a bone jabbed my hand, but I felt like I needed to do something. “Is someone else here?”
“No. Just me.”
“Hmm, well I noticed your alarm was off when I came in.”
Lillian groaned when I touched her hip, and her gaze shifted away. “Nobody here. I’m here by myself. That’s why I had to call you.” Tears gathered in her eyes.
She was lying to me. That was as obvious as the dirty dishes in her sink. Why did she feel the need to lie about company?
“Yeah, I can’t get you up. I’m sorry,” I said. “My money’s on either a dislocated or broken hip.” I squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. “Sorry, hon, but I’ve got to call an ambulance.” I braced myself for an argument since Lillian is one of the most independent women I knew. When Lillian only nodded her head in agreement, I knew I’d made the right call this time.
After I called 9-1-1 and explained the situation, I knew we’d have a wait of unknown duration for an ambulance. I tried to help her settle into a more comfortable position, but the reality was no position was great. I joined her on the hardwood and crossed my ankles.
“Well, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into,” I said in my best Laurel and Hardy imitation.
She chuckled and then grimaced. “I know.” She glanced over at me. “I am so sorry to get you out of bed in the middle of the night.”
“Hey, stop that. That’s what neighbors are for,” I assured her. “I really don’t mind.”
