Page 20 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

Twenty

Clarissa

S lamming the coffee maker, Clarissa frowned. It wasn’t starting at all. She would need to bite the bullet and tell Donna it was past the point of no return.

Sylvia had to leave work early. Her little girl started vomiting all over her third-grade class. Clarissa was the only waitress there for now. She didn’t mind though; it was late Monday afternoon, Jeff and Eugene the only patrons. She was beyond grateful the group of kids hadn’t returned today.

Although, she thought she saw some familiar faces lurking in the parking lot. Perhaps Tom realized since she’d seen them at the picnic, their covers had been blown.

The front bell jingled.

“Be with you in a moment, feel free to sit anywhere you like,” she called over her shoulder.

“Take your time beating up inanimate objects, I’ll wait.”

She spun around. Tom stood there smirking at her. Heart hammering, her palms began to sweat, fear bubbled up in her breast. She didn’t want to have to do this now …

Leaning against the counter, he pulled something from his pocket. It looked like a brochure.

“There’s an art exhibit over in Lawrence I thought you’d enjoy, ‘Life in Graphite,’ it’s not too far of a drive, I would like to take you. What time are you off work today?”

Pursing her lips, she squared her shoulders. If she’d eaten anything today, she thought she’d have chucked it all over the counter at the memory of that ghastly picnic. She wasn’t cut out for that type of life. “Can we talk … outside?”

His face fell, but he nodded. Going around the counter, she went to the front door, he held it open for her. She wished he wouldn’t.

“Is it the drive? Are you worried about leaving Rachel alone for so long?” he asked. “I thought the home nurse was working out for you.”

She was brought up short. “I don’t recall ever telling you about that. How did you know?”

He clamped his mouth shut. A horrible thought came to her mind. What if it wasn’t Sheriff Greg who’d hired the help? It was Thomas. He’d gotten his mafia hooks in her without her even realizing it. Not only that, but Rachel was at risk too. Sure, his ‘family’ was generous with them now, but if something happened and the tides turned, they were both vulnerable, especially Rachel. She couldn’t let that happen.

This new realization solidified her decision. She knew what needed to be done, no matter how much it was going to hurt.

“Tom,” she said in a forced calm, “I think I need some space.”

She braced herself for anger that didn’t come. Instead, his face looked positively shattered, then it was gone. A neutral mask stared down at her.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I just, I realized some things, and I need some time to think them over.” Damn it, why did she have to sound so indecisive?

“Was it the picnic? Did someone say something to you?”

There it was. A flash of anger lit up his eyes. She recoiled.

“No. Yes. It wasn’t anything specific. I just …” She searched for the right words, any words that were not ‘mafia’ or ‘crime family.’ She was too terrified to outright accuse him of it. Terrified and betrayed. “I don’t feel comfortable being involved with your family. I won’t say anything, I swear. I just need space to process if this is something I’m comfortable continuing.

“I’m sorry, Thomas, I don’t want to hurt you. I just, I didn’t feel safe yesterday being around so many …” Letting her voice trail off, she really didn’t want to have to say the word aloud.

“I see.” His jaw locked, his posture rigid.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, I’m sorry you had to find out that way. I was going to explain it all to you.” His fist clenched, crushing the brochure before letting it drop to the ground. “Well, that doesn’t matter anymore.”

Stalking past her, he got into his car and slammed the door.

Hands curled into fists, she marched into the diner and beelined for the coffee maker, it still hadn’t started. She hit it.

When nothing happened, she smacked it again. And again and again, until she brought her fist down on the top of it.

“Clarissa, darling.” Eugene’s voice sounded from behind her. “Is everything alright?”

“No, the coffee maker’s not working.” Her voice was a wreck. When had she started crying?

“It’s okay, no one needs coffee right now,” Jeff said.

“It’s not right,” she said. “It can’t do this to me. It isn’t fair.”

Something heavy fell onto her shoulder. With a start, she saw Adam standing next to her, looking stern.

“The coffee maker’s a piece of shit,” he said. “Want me to kick its ass?”

She shook her head. Taking a napkin, she cleaned off her face. Leaning against the counter, she fiddled with the carving on her necklace. She wondered if her parents would have had any good dating advice for her.

The door to the back swung and slammed. Donna stood in the dining room, spectacles hanging around her neck. Her eyes were red, and she was wringing her hands.

“Claire,” she said. “You have a phone call. I suggest you take it in my office.”

Her mind jumped to Rachel and she ran into the back. Picking up the receiver, her hand trembled. Was she hurt? Had she run off?

“Hello?” she said.

“Claire? It’s Greg. I’m sorry, Claire, but there’s been a fire.”

* * *

Racing down the hospital halls, Eugene and Jeff thundering behind her. They wouldn’t let her drive herself, and Eugene’s niece had been there when it happened. Clarissa didn’t protest their coming along; that would have only delayed her.

Five-eleven. Room five-eleven. Repeating the number in her head kept her from losing her mind. Turning a corner, she saw a police officer outside a room. That had to be it!

Stopping in the doorway of room five-eleven, she screamed. Greg encased her in his grip.

“Get her out of here!” a nurse yelled.

“Uncle Eugene!” Elizabeth ran to him.

Greg pulled Clarissa into the hallway, the others following.

“It’s smoke damage,” Greg said. “She wasn’t burned, but she inhaled a lot of smoke and lost consciousness.”

“They’re intubating her,” Elizabeth said.

“What happened?” Clarissa demanded.

“She’d gotten agitated,” Elizabeth said. “She started yelling and saying bears were coming for her. She barricaded herself in her bedroom. I was on the phone with Sheriff Greg when I smelled smoke.

“The door to her room was hot. Then flames started from the other end of the house. I did everything I could to get her out myself, but the fire department had to axe down her door.”

Elizabeth broke down in tears. Eugene hugged her, then steered her over to a bench. All the while, he and Jeff reassured her she did everything she could.

“The fire department is still trying to determine what caused it,” Greg said. “Right now, well, it looks like it wasn’t an accident. Also, Clarissa, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing left.”

The room spun as her world crashed down around her and her knees buckled.

* * *

Bracing her head, Clarissa stared at her feet, her white work sneakers were worn and frayed, a small spattering of grease and old coffee covering the bottoms. She was on a bench with Eugene and Jeff. Greg and Elizabeth were deep in conversation with the doctor. She went over to join them.

“Are you feeling better?” Elizabeth smiled at her. “I was just giving the doctor your aunt’s medical history. Specifically, her dementia.”

“It was diagnosed about ten years ago, but she’s always had … issues. Why?” Clarissa asked.

“We did a scan to check for more injuries. Since she was unconscious, we wanted to rule out a closed head injury, so we did a CT. Her scans show no signs of dementia.” The doctor held up a thick black plastic sheet. Clarissa didn’t know anything about brain scans, but it looked like a brain to her. “If her condition is as advanced as you say, she should have shrinkage basically everywhere, but especially here, and here.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Clarissa said. “Her doctors said she had all the symptoms.”

“At the beginning of her diagnosis it could have been possible, not likely, but possible, she didn’t have visible brain damage. But at this stage, it would be obvious,” the doctor said. “When she wakes up, we can run more tests.”

“Please,” Clarissa said. “Please, I need to know what’s wrong with her. If there’s any possibility I can get her back … But is she okay? I mean from the fire.”

“She’s still unconscious and isn’t breathing well on her own. We’ll be observing her and keeping her here for now. I’m sorry, that’s all I can say until we know more about her condition.” The doctor left.

“Great.” Clarissa held her head in her hands.

“Do you want to go in and see her? The doctors and nurses are all gone for now.” The cop that came with Greg stood next to her.

She had brilliant green eyes and blonde hair that was cropped short. She towered over Clarissa.

“I … thank you,” she said.

“Officer Sara Richardson.” The cop smiled at her. “And there’s no need to thank me.”

Nodding, Clarissa went into Rachel’s room. Her eyes were closed, a tube taped to her mouth. Wires were stuck to her while a litany of machines beeped in the background. Collapsing into a chair, she took Rachel’s hand.

She felt numb. Too much had happened that day; her emotions were chaotic and her mind frayed. It was easier to stare at Rachel’s face and allow herself to disassociate. She saw it all as if she were looking down on the scene rather than experiencing it firsthand.

Losing all track of time, she was vaguely aware of people coming and going. Moving like ghosts through their space. She paid them no heed.

“Clarissa, sweetie.” Jeff placed a hand on her shoulder. She blinked up at him. When had the window gotten so dark? “Come on. Eugene and I have a guest room, you can stay with us.”

“I can’t leave,” she said.

“You need to eat; you need to sleep,” Jeff said. “Eugene went to take Elizabeth home; he’s also picking up some clothes for you. He’ll be back soon. Rachel’s in good hands, you need to take care of yourself now.”

She kissed Rachel’s forehead. “Chin up, girl, and you’ll go far,” she whispered, before letting Jeff guide her from the building.