Kay David: Safe In His Arms

Sarah ignored Bishop. “My God, Anise, what happened? Robin and I were leaving the gallery and the lights caught our attention so we came down to see what was going on. Then I—I saw Kenneth. I don’t understand….”

“I don’t, either,” Anise answered. “We walked outside the restaurant and someone shot him. Just like that. Out of the blue. I…I don’t know why or who or—”

The policeman interrupted Anise’s stuttering explanation. “I’m sorry, I know this is difficult, but I have to ask you some more questions. Perhaps your friend could wait?”

Sarah turned to the cop with the fury of a mother bear. “You’re going to have to ask those questions later, Mr. Bishop. This woman is in shock and I need to get her to a hospital. In fact, I can’t believe you’re holding her here like this! Can’t you see she’s shaking?”

Anise tried to intervene but she realized Sarah was right. She had begun to tremble—violently. She clenched her teeth in an effort to make the quivering stop but it didn’t work. Lifting her gaze to Bishop’s, she spoke. “I…I think Sarah might have a point. Could this wait?”

Anise could see he wanted to refuse, but when their eyes met, he couldn’t. A wave of gratitude hit her as he gave in.

“Of course,” he said. “We have your address. I’ll be by as soon as I finish up here.”

THEY ARGUED BRIEFLY over whether or not Anise should go to the hospital. Disagreeing with Sarah was generally a pointless activity but this time, Anise won. She didn’t bother to question why; she just closed her eyes and let Sarah drive her home. By the time they arrived, her trembling had subsided but on the inside a sick feeling had started to take hold.

“You go take a hot shower,” Sarah instructed once they were inside. “I’ll make some tea.” She started down the narrow hallway to the kitchen then stopped. “Why don’t you give me your clothes? I’ll take care of them.”

Anise looked down at her bloody jacket. “I can’t,” she said woodenly. “The police…they want them. Could you get me a paper bag?”

Sarah nodded, then hurried down the hall. When she came back, a brown grocery sack in her hands, Anise was standing in the same spot. Sarah led her to the bathroom. Pulling the shower curtain, she twisted the faucets on full force. “Can you get undressed by yourself?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen. Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

The door closed behind her and Anise sat down on the toilet, the tiny room filling with steam as her fingers went to her T-shirt and then her jacket. The fabric was stiff but she managed to get the buttons undone. Slipping out of her jeans, she folded everything carefully and put it all in the paper bag. She creased the top of the bag and set it aside.

Nausea swamped her a moment later. She barely had time to get the lid up before the hot gush came. When it was over, she stepped into the shower.

The tears that came next were as unexpected as the vomiting. And just as violent. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t catch her breath and that brought with it a claustrophobic panic. Then she gasped loudly and air filled her lungs once again. The last time Anise had cried had been the day of the fire. Crying hadn’t helped her then, she’d realized, so why bother? She hadn’t shed a single tear over anything since and she tried to keep her emotions in just as tight a check.

Her efforts to stay in control failed her tonight, though, and she didn’t know why. Grief wasn’t the reaction sweeping over her; she and Kenneth hadn’t been close for months. It was simple horror. She couldn’t forget the image of him in her arms. The sounds he’d made, the blood everywhere, his body going limp…

She held her face under the showerhead and let the water pelt her. For five minutes she didn’t move, then finally she reached for the soap and began to scrub. When she cut off the water and pulled the curtain back, Sarah had opened the door.

She stood on the threshold, a mug in one hand, alarm on her face. She’d obviously heard Anise crying. “Do you want your tea or something else?”

Shaken by the storm still swirling inside her, Anise didn’t move. She couldn’t move. Sarah pulled a towel from the bar beside the shower and handed it to her. “Dry off,” she fussed. “You’re gonna get chilled.”

Anise took the towel from Sarah’s hands and dropped her face into its warmth. For a second she hid her face in it, her hair dripping, then she wrapped it around her body and accepted the mug of tea.

Sarah leaned against the door frame, a frown on her forehead. “Are you okay?”

“As okay as I’m going to be, at least for a while.” Her voice trailed off and she had to force herself to speak again. “I…I don’t even know how I feel, to be honest. It’s not like we were still in love or anything but I can’t stop shaking. And I keep thinking about what he looked like.” She shuddered. “I’ve never had anyone die in my arms before….”

“I can’t believe it even happened.” Sarah shook her head. “Who on earth would do such a thing? Do they think it was random or…”

“I don’t think they think anything right now,” Anise answered. She took a sip of the hot tea, some of her equilibrium returning as she told Sarah about the phone call Kenneth had received. The doorbell rang in the middle of her explanation.

“That’s Madelyn. I called her as soon as I could.” Sarah straightened then went to open the door for Anise’s neighbor. Madelyn Sutcliff had been friends with Anise and Sarah since they’d met ten years previous. Sarah had taken on one of Madelyn’s sculptures to sell and over time, the three had grown close. Madelyn served as the mother figure, the wise older woman, the one who had all the answers. Having a master’s degree in counseling helped as well. When she entered Anise’s living room a few minutes later, though, she had nothing but questions, her expression pained, her apprehension obvious.

“Oh, Anise…sweetheart! I don’t know what to say!” She crossed the room and enveloped Anise in her arms, her touch as comforting as the heavy bathrobe Anise had put on. “I’m so sorry!”

Anise patted Madelyn on the arm. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “It’s so awful….”

“Tell me what happened.”

The three women took their usual places in Anise’s living room but the conversation was so far removed from anything they’d ever discussed before the situation felt surreal. For what was beginning to feel like the hundredth time, Anise explained how Kenneth had died. Thirty minutes after Madelyn arrived, the doorbell rang again. They looked at each other then Anise spoke. “That’s got to be the cop.”

“He’s just going to have to wait,” Sarah announced, jumping up from the couch. “You’re exhausted! You can’t talk to him now. I’ll tell him he has to come back later—”

“No.” Anise rose to her feet as well, her answer stopping Sarah’s progress toward the door. “I want to get it over with. I’ll talk to him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“I know what you think, Sarah. Everyone always knows what you think. But this time, you’re wrong. I…I need to talk to him, okay?”

Anyone else would have taken offense at Anise’s words; Sarah ignored them. She threw open the front door and glared at the detective on the front porch.

“Anise can’t talk to you right now,” she said. “She’s too upset. You’re going to have to come back tomorrow.”

Before the man could answer, Anise came up behind Sarah and put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “That won’t be necessary. I can talk to you now.” Her eyes met Daniel Bishop’s, and underneath her touch, she felt Sarah stiffen.