I know that noise.
Shee threw back her thin sheet, grunting in pain. She slid from the bed and flung open her door.
In the hall, Martisha turned to look at her as the whine of the hinges announced Shee’s arrival. The nurse wore a long black t-shirt hanging to her knees.
“Wah mek yuh awake at dis time of night?”
“You were checking on my father?”
She nodded, looking concerned. “Yea mi hear a sound.”
“Me too. Like a moan?”
She nodded.
“Does he make noises?”
“Sometimes.” She tapped the side of her skull with her index finger. “Him brain there.”
“So you think he can hear us?”
Martisha spread out her hands, palms up. “Maybe. Come chat wid him inna mawnin.”
“I will. Sure. Hey—” Shee took a step forward. “I noticed some bruising on his neck earlier, and some scratches on his arm. Do you know where those came from?”
Martisha nodded, looking grim. “Mi turn him fi di bed sores. Sometimes it’s hard—him a big man.”
Shee nodded. “We guessed as much. But you just checked on him? He’s good?”
“Yea. Him fine, girl. Now wid yuh here, he’ll probably wake up any day now.”
Shee chuckled. “I hope so. Thank you, Martisha.”
The nurse waved with her opposite hand as she disappeared into her room.
Shee shut her own door and walked back to her bed, her mind on her father.
If he could make noise, it could mean he was close to waking. Couldn’t it?
The moan had sounded pained.
Was Mick having a nightmare?
The idea of it made her shiver.
Trapped in his head, unable to wake, alone with his thoughts...
Shee pulled the extra blanket over her.
&&&
The next morning, Shee awoke to the sun. She looked at her watch to find it was nearly seven o’clock.
Shameful.
She’d slept in after spending the evening creeping around. Maybe it didn’t hurt that she’d slept in a bed that felt like home for the first time in as long as she could remember.
She swung her legs over the edge, her shoulder aching as she pushed to her feet. Even her butt muscles hurt.
Note to self: no more grave digging.
Forty-five-year-old bodies didn’t spring back from unusual physical tasks the way dewey-fresh Shee used to.
She showered beneath scalding water in the hopes the heat would ease her discomfort and then dug through her bathroom kit in search of a pain reliever when it didn’t.
Stepping out of the steamy bathroom she found a woman in her room straining across her stripped bed and tucking a new bottom sheet. The housekeeper wore a light blue uniform dress, the hem riding high on her thigh as she reached, revealing a garter with several small throwing knives tucked inside.
“Whoa.”
The woman continued working as Shee ducked back into the bathroom. She shut the door and leaned her back against it.
Why is the housekeeper strapped?
On the upside, the woman hadn’t acknowledged her presence, so she doubted she was a target.
“Hello?” she called.
“Hullo,” came the answer.
“Is it, uh, safe to come out?”
“Yah.”
Shee frowned. It’s safe to come out because the lady with the knives says it is?
Shee cracked opened the door. The woman stood on the opposite side of the bed now, bouncing a pillow into a new case. She stared at Shee without expression.
“I, uh, wasn’t quite ready for you,” said Shee.
The woman chucked the pillow back on the bed. “I’ll be done in a second.”
Shee re-emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body.
Okaaaay... Excellent at bed-making—crappy at taking a hint.
She grabbed clothes from her suitcase and slipped back into the bathroom.
Locking the door, she towel-dried her long dark hair before pulling it into a ponytail. Lifting her arms to put on her shirt, she groaned and considered the pros and cons of spending the rest of the day topless.
Ow. Ow, ow, ow.
Gritting through the pain, she finished dressing. By the time she reentered the main room, the housekeeper had left, the bed left crisp, a square of chocolate on her pillow.
Nice. I could get used to this.
She unwrapped the chocolate and popped it in her mouth as she moved into the hall.
Giving her father’s bedroom door knob a twist, she found it still locked.
Shee sighed. She returned to her room, found her lock-picking kit and returned to jimmy the door. If the idea of keeping the entry locked was to protect him, they’d have to do better than a cheap lockset.
She eased the door shut behind her and tiptoed into her father’s room.
She took his hand in hers.
“Hey, Dad.”
He lay in the bed much as before, breathing slow and easy.
“We’ll figure this out. Everything’s going to be okay,” she murmured. “I’m home.”
Her lip began to quiver and she squeezed his hand, dropping her gaze to the floor.
All those years avoiding his eyes and now I’d do anything for him to—
“Gud mawnin.”
Shee turned to find Martisha entering the room, dressed in colorful nurse’s scrubs. Her cheeks grew warm. “Good morning, Martisha. Sorry.”
The nurse stood, hands folded in front of her, seemingly waiting.
I’m in the way.
Shee sniffed. “Just saying good morning before I go downstairs. Do you need any help with him?”
Martisha smiled and waved her away. “No, mi an Mister Mick ‘ave fi wi mawnin’ dance.”
She lowered her father’s hand back to the bed, running a finger down each of his to flatten them neatly against the thin cotton blanket.
“I’ll get out of your way.”
With a nod Shee left the room, avoiding the nurse’s eyes as if the woman could see her sins.
&&&
The elevator doors slid open to reveal Croix occupying the spot behind the check-in desk as she scrolled through her phone, head bobbing to a tune
