The Coast Road Home (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 13) Page 3

“Doctors,” she mumbled as her body sunk back into the pillows, trying to relax.

  She finished the pot of coffee and swung her legs to the side of the bed. Easing off the mattress, she gripped the IV pole to steady herself, hoping to make it to the bathroom without having to ask for help. A little dizzy, she paid no mind to the blasted hospital gown, exposing her backside. The goal was to keep from falling. The coffee had kicked in, causing a rush to reach the toilet.

  If Aubree had known her patient was trying to get around on her own, she’d have had something to say about it. But the nurse was busy at her station giving the person in charge, Sydney Blackwood, an update on everything that had gone down the night before.

  Since marrying Quentin Blackwood, Sydney Reed had taken over the administrative duties at the hospital. She liked being back where the action happened in an emergency room environment instead of the everyday boredom at a doctor’s office. At least that’s the way she saw it.

  “If Dr. Nighthawk says our wounded bird needs to stick around town, then we’ll start lining up places she can hang while she’s stuck here.”

  Aubree nodded. She handed Sydney a list of options. “Since Seth Larrabee and Ophelia got married, Ophelia’s apartment is available. And Jordan Harris says our patient is welcome to the studio over their garage. But stairs are involved there.”

  Sydney scanned the list. “I know about Cord’s guest cottage behind the animal clinic. That might be the best option.”

  “But not the only one,” Aubree added. “Gilly’s house has been up for sale since she married Simon. As you can see, she put that on the top of the list.”

  “Yes, and I’m sure Logan knows of one or two other vacant properties we could add. When the word gets out, I bet Marley Lennox will have her pick of where she wants to stay.”

  Gideon came around the corner to see the two women with their heads together. “Are we plotting the revolution, the end of civilization as we know it?”

  Aubree laughed from deep down in the gut while Sydney sent him a sly smile.

  “You’ll never see it coming if we are,” Sydney vowed. She looked up to see Wally Pierce strolling up to the desk. “What’s up? Lilly okay? The kids?”

  “Everyone’s fine. I’m here to see the owner of that International Harvester Scout that was towed in from the accident. I think I can fix it.”

  “You’re kidding?” Gideon said from his stance behind the counter. “I heard it was totaled.”

  “I thought so, too. But this morning I got a better look at the frame underneath. To my surprise, it’s not bent, and the axle seems in good shape. The engine is sound, started right up for me. I think the body can be repaired with odds and end parts from the salvage yard.”

  “Go tell her,” Gideon suggested. “She’s in Room 4, down the hall to the left. It’ll probably make her day.”

  Wally meandered down the corridor and knocked on the door.

  By this time, Marley had made her way back to bed, exhausted. When she yelled, “come in,” she thought it was Aubree coming back to check on her. But she was surprised to see a man instead, dressed in a blue work shirt and jeans. He wore his long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and had a friendly smile on his face.

  Wally introduced himself. “Sorry to bother you like this, but I’m the one who has your vehicle at my garage here in town.”

  “Please, come in,” Marley said, motioning him closer. “I’m anxious to know just how bad the damage is.”

  Wally gave her the high points and then the low. “I won’t lie. Finding the replacement parts for a car that old requires patience. But it can be done.”

  “I can’t emphasize enough that I’d like to try. That’s my dad’s Scout, and it has great sentimental value to me. It’s irreplaceable.”

  “I figured as much. All the more reason to try and get it back to you in running order. I’m just saying…it may take a while to run down an entire passenger side, from the fender to the bumper. And it’s a hardtop to boot. That makes it…difficult. Because you’ll also need a hood, a passenger door, then there’s the grill and a front bumper.”

  Embarrassed, Marley’s hands flew to her face. “I can’t believe I did all that.”

  Wally handed off a picture of the damage. “That’s what it looks like.”

  For Marley, the horror of it was worse than her bruised and battered face. “I can’t let it die looking like that. You have to fix it. What can I do to help?”

  “I’ve had success at several junkyards outside San Francisco, picking up old pieces. I can usually iron them out no matter how bad they seem. I’ve redone several muscle cars from salvaged parts, so I know what I’m doing. I could start there first. I also have a network on the Internet that helps locate hard-to-find parts. But you’d have to pay for shipping.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll cut corners somewhere else if I need to, but not on this.”

  “Okay. Sounds like a plan. The interior of the car is crammed with personal items. I could store those for you if you want.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.” Marley reached for the side table and the drawer that held her purse. “Do you need me to come up with a deposit or something now?”

  “I’ll bill you as the parts come in, how does that sound?”

  “It sounds great. I’ll look forward to working with you. And Mr. Pierce…?”

  “Call me Wally.”

  “Okay, Wally. Thanks for taking the time to come see me. In here of all places. I don’t know many people who would’ve done that.”

  “No problem. I love cars, all kinds. Yours is a classic of a different breed.”

  She smiled at him. “My dad would’ve loved that line. Here’s my cell phone number if you need to contact me.” She held out the device.

  “Good idea.” He keyed her number into his phone. “I’ll start calling around and seeing what I can find already available.”

  “You’ll let me know how it’s going, right?”

  “You bet. Hope you feel better enough to get out of here soon. I hate hospitals.”

  She smiled again. “Me too.”

  After her MRI, it didn’t take long for the offers to start pouring in. So many people had offered to lend a hand that Marley Lennox was blown away by the gestures. More than a dozen people had offered her a place to stay until her car could be repaired.

  Aubree helped her sort it all out. “The garage apartment means navigating stairs, which might pose a problem at first.”

  “But isn’t that out of town as well? I probably need something closer since I’m on foot.”

  “Okay, then, for now, we’ll cross that off the list. Let’s move on to the guest cottage behind the animal clinic. The downside for me would be that it’s a high traffic area. People coming and going to see the vet. And the dogs barking might not help your headaches.”

  “I love animals. I grew up on a farm.”

  “But cows don’t make as much noise as pooches do.”

  “True. Okay, what’s next?”

  “Logan says if you want, he has a house that’s almost done with the renovations. But the problem is, there’s no furniture in it.”

  Marley scowled. “Are you sure all these people are okay with this?”

  “I am.”

  “And these aren’t rooms to rent out? You’re saying people are okay with me staying in an entire house on my own?”

  “Yep. Aren’t people friendly like that back in New Glarus?”

  “Sure. But they’ve known me there for most of my life. Who in their right mind allows strangers to move right into a house these days without a credit check?”

  “Well, for one thing, you’re in no shape to steal their stuff. Try carrying out a TV set and see how far you get. Not only that, you don’t even have transportation, so how would you escape out of town with…stuff? Get real.”

  “I’m not sure I’d be as trusting. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Well, then you’re screwed if you’re not willing to
help out someone who’s in a jam.”

  She leveled a measured stare on the nurse. “Wow, you’re right.”

  “So, what’s it going to be? Gilly’s house at the corner of Tradewinds and Crescent Street? You could walk right out of the hospital and be there in less than five minutes,” Aubree explained, handing off her phone with an image of the Craftsman-style house. “Gilly sent over a few pictures. Isn’t it darling? It’s more like a little caretaker’s cottage painted green with white shutters. It screams cute beach house.”

  “Such a sweet-looking bungalow,” Marley said, admiring the photos of the gabled roof and columns on the front porch. “And it has furniture. Why does it have furniture?”

  “Gilly left a few things behind that didn’t fit into the new house she shares with Simon. There’s a sofa, appliances, a washer and dryer. It’ll suit your needs until you get up on your feet.”

  “But what if a buyer comes along?”

  “Honey, that house has been on the market for four months and not a nibble. You’d be doing her a favor keeping an eye on it.”

  “But I’d pay rent, of course.”

  “You could certainly try, but I doubt she’d take a dime.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you need a place to stay. It’s not your fault you’re stuck here.”

  “It kind of is,” Marley pointed out. “Look at my face. I’m hideous because I ran my car off the road.”

  Aubree chuckled. “When you put it that way, I guess it is. But your face will heal. Give it time. The cuts aren’t that deep, except for maybe the one above your right eye. That was deeper. Dr. Nighthawk opted for a butterfly, though.”

  “But my head…”

  “Yeah, the one on your scalp is larger. Gilly had to shave a portion of your hair. But it wasn’t that much,” Aubree added quickly. “And it’ll grow back in no time.”

  “Grow back in time for me to nail down a job? Maybe something where I don’t have to interact with the public too much. If I’m going to fix my car, it’ll take money to hunt down all the parts needed.”

  “I’ll keep my ears open. Off the top of my head, I think Murphy’s Market needs a stocker. I’m not sure you’re able to handle that kind of work yet, though.”

  “Great,” Marley muttered, running her hand over her sore ribs. “I’m in another forced holding pattern that I never wanted.”

  Gideon was in his office at the other end of the hospital wing when Brent Cody rapped on his door. The police chief didn’t look happy. “What’s wrong?”

  “Follow up. Official business. I’m about to interview that accident victim. I need to know if you got the lab results back on her BAC. Because running her car off the road damn sure wasn’t weather-related.”

  Gideon turned to his desktop computer, hit a few keys, and brought up Marley’s diagnostic findings. “Blood alcohol was negative. Contrary to what Eastlyn suspected, Marley Lennox hadn’t been drinking before hitting that boulder. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “No, it’s not like that. Colt and Eastlyn were the first people on the scene. They didn’t report any smell of alcohol. But it seemed odd that the driver veered toward the cliff instead of away from it.”

  “I have something to show you,” Gideon said, hitting several more keys on his keyboard and turned the screen around so Brent could see the monitor. “Take a look at this. Ms. Lennox gave me a few details about herself, crumbs really, and I ran with them. This is what I found. This is who she is and what she’s been through.” He pointed to the online article he’d found.

  Brent dropped into a chair and pulled the computer closer so he could make out the small font and lock in on the photos that accompanied the story. “Holy crap. That’s Marley Lennox.”

  “Read all of it,” Gideon directed.

  “I’m getting there,” Brent said as his eyes moved along each sentence. When he’d finished, he leaned back in the chair. “No wonder she wanted to be somewhere else. She told you about this?”

  “No. She volunteered that she was once a therapist. Knowing her name, I got curious and took it from there. Something you don’t know is that I found two gunshot wounds on her upper chest when the EMTs brought her in, and I had a chance to examine her. Gilly saw them, too. She jumped to the conclusion that it was about domestic violence. Not a bad guess, I suppose...”

  “But wrong. This proves it wasn’t.”

  “What this proves is that Marley Lennox was traumatized after losing her entire family. This morning she insisted that she wasn’t depressed or having a mental issue. I’m not convinced she’s right. She could be in denial.”

  “Anyone would be depressed after losing her kids to a crazed mental patient.”

  “Don’t forget her parents and her older brother,” Gideon added.

  “What do you intend to do with this information? Do you think her accident could’ve been a suicide attempt?”

  “I don’t know. But I’d like to get her to open up about it. It might help her going forward. The thing is, I don’t think she will, not without some prodding, not with her trust issues.”

  “I guess the good news is she won’t face any charges from the accident.”

  “I’ll lead with that when I give her the results of her latest MRI.”

  “Will you release her tomorrow?”

  “Probably. But she’ll have a tough month ahead. It’ll take that long to get her ribs and head to heal so she can move around normally. She’ll have headaches and impaired mobility. When she hears that diagnosis, I can’t imagine she’ll be too happy about it.”

  “Rough break for a woman who’s been through hell already.”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a rumor people are trying to get her a place to live.”

  “The nurses started it,” Gideon began. “Which isn’t surprising. I’ve never worked with a finer group of people than the ones here.”

  “You let River and me know if we can do anything, okay?”

  “I’ll keep you posted.”

  After the noon meal, Gideon tapped on Marley’s door. He’d put off telling her long enough. It was time to make sure she understood things. “Are you experiencing any headaches?”

  “Not exactly a full-on headache, more like an intermittent throbbing.”

  “Sorry to say, that will likely continue for a few weeks. You’re MRI shows the bleeding has stopped. But I can still see bruising at the edge of the left temporal lobe.”

  “The left side of my head? That’s where the gash is.”

  “Exactly. The seatbelt did its job holding you in place and keeping you from going through the windshield. But at the same time, it’s probably the reason it threw you to the side and up against the driver’s window on impact. I’ve seen it happen before in car accidents. The bruising is the reason you’re experiencing dizziness and disorientation.”

  “Does that mean I have to stay here longer?”

  “Maybe. I’ve decided to assess what’s going on with your head in methodical stages. This is how it works. You keep track of the pain and the dizziness on a chart I’ll provide. The scale is one to ten, with ten being the absolute worst. If you’re experiencing that, then there’s something really wrong, and you need to tell someone immediately. Even if it occurs days after your release.”

  “It sounds like you’re suggesting I stay put.”

  “I am…for now. Give it another day here, and we’ll see.” Gideon noted she didn’t look happy about that. “It’s better than the alternative, right?”

  “I suppose,” Marley grunted and crossed her arms over her chest. “You have no idea how disappointing this is.”

  “Think of it this way, it’ll give you an extra day to figure out where you’ll be staying.” He picked up the chair and moved it closer to her bed. “I like to think I deal with my patients honestly. I’m not gonna lie to you, I looked you up on the Internet.”

  He watched as her face turned paler and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the blan
ket in a tight fist. Her eyes went wild with panic.

  “Please, don’t tell anyone. Please. I left Wisconsin because I was sick and tired of people feeling sorry for me. That look of pure pity every time I walked in the store to buy groceries was too much. They meant well, but it was a daily reminder of what I’d lost. Please don’t say anything to anyone. I don’t want that to happen here. Or any other place, for that matter. Promise me you won’t tell anyone. Keep what you know to yourself. Then after I’m gone, you can blab to whomever about what happened. I don’t care. Just don’t make it public knowledge now.”

  He pushed out of the chair and took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers to reassure her. “It’s okay. Calm down. I won’t say a word. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She took several deep breaths to tamp down the panic and kept clutching his hand in a death grip. “I’m sorry. I’m…probably overreacting.”

  “Do these panic attacks happen often? They’ve happened before, haven’t they?”

  “Believe it or not, I’m getting better. Now that the trial’s over, I’m supposed to move on faster than ever before. Right?”

  Gideon chuckled. “And do you believe that?’

  “Some days I tell myself I do.”

  “Do you need any medication to help with that?”

  She cut her eyes to his in a steely glare. “You took a tox screen. You know I don’t. Not since I got out of the hospital…a month after it happened. I’ve been off pills for almost two years.” She didn’t mention that she’d found other ways to suppress the central nervous system.

  “You don’t have to tell me the details.”

  “Sure, I do. It’s what you want to hear, isn’t it? The fact I went right up to the edge in breakdown mode and then managed to successfully pull myself out of despair. It isn’t true, but it’s a good story, sounds great to tell the therapist that you’re all better and ready to resume the life you had before. That’s what they want to hear. That they somehow made you better. But you never truly get over something like that. Not ever. Do you?”

  “I’m sure there’s truth in that. You know you and Quentin Blackwood have a great deal in common.”