Letters never sent, p.19
Letters Never Sent, page 19
Dorothy opened the door and peeked out. She was wearing a long nightgown and her hair was in rollers, secured in place with a scarf. She blinked sleepily and rubbed her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Claire,” Katherine said. “She needs a doctor. I don’t want to leave her. Could you go downstairs and see if Mr. and Mrs. Andersen would let you use the telephone? It’s an emergency.”
Dorothy stared. “What’s wrong with Claire?”
“Just call this number,” Katherine said. “Ask for Dr. Smith. Tell him that there’s been a complication with . . .”
To tell Dorothy to use the name Mrs. Wilson would immediately generate questions. But to not tell her would complicate the situation even more. She considered again going downstairs to call Dr. Smith herself, but somehow knew she needed to stay with Claire. She cleared her throat.
“Tell him that there is a complication with the procedure he performed earlier and that the patient is bleeding profusely,” she said. “Can you do that please? Tell him he needs to come immediately.”
Dorothy nodded. “Let me get my wrap.” She disappeared into the darkness of her room.
Katherine hurried back down the hall and pushed open the door to Claire’s room.
“Claire,” Katherine said as she went to the side of the bed and touched Claire’s face. It was still cool. Frowning, she placed her hand on Claire’s chest. It moved only slightly as she breathed in and out and she could barely feel the slow, faint pulsing of her heart under her palm. Hoping she was doing the right thing, she went to the closet and searched for a blanket. When she was unable to find one, she went to her own room and grabbed the quilt her mother had insisted she bring back with her the last time she had visited Big Springs. Dorothy was coming up the stairs as she hurried out of her room.
“I called,” she said as she met Katherine at Claire’s doorway and looked in. She gasped when she saw Claire and the pool of blood. “Oh my God, Kate. What . . . ?”
“What did Dr. Smith say?” Katherine asked as she pushed Dorothy aside and entered the room.
“He . . . he said . . .” Dorothy began.
Katherine covered Claire with the blanket and turned to Dorothy. “He said what? What did he say?”
“He said to take her to a hospital,” Dorothy said.
“What?” Katherine spun around to face Dorothy. “He didn’t say he would come?”
“He said to take her to a hospital,” Dorothy said.
“We can’t take her to a hospital,” Katherine said angrily. “We can’t move her. She has lost too much blood. We need a doctor. Go call Dr. Smith back and tell him that he has to come. And if he can’t, ask him to recommend someone who will.”
Dorothy nodded and hurried back out of the room. Katherine returned her attention to Claire. Her breathing had become even shallower.
“Claire,” Katherine said and lightly tapped her cheek. “Wake up, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”
Claire still didn’t move.
“Please, Claire,” Katherine said. “We’ve called the doctor. We’re going to get you help.”
Time seemed to stand still as Katherine waited for Dorothy to return. She leapt to her feet as Dorothy hurried into the room.
“He gave me the name of a doctor and I called,” Dorothy said as she craned her head to see around Katherine to Claire. “He’s on his way.”
“Oh thank God,” Katherine breathed.
“How is she?” Dorothy asked. Her round face was flushed with excitement and the exertion of running up and down the stairs. “Kate, what happened?”
“It’s a long story,” Katherine said. “Did he say how long it would take to get here?”
“He said he’d come as soon as possible,” Dorothy said. “Mr. and Mrs. Anderson are waiting for him. They wanted to come up, but I told them not to.”
“It’s probably best,” Katherine said.
“Is there anything we can do?” Dorothy asked and went to the other side of the bed.
“I don’t think so,” Katherine said and knelt to stroke Claire’s head. “I think all we can do is wait for the doctor and pray.”
Chapter 13
Chicago, Illinois, 1933
KATHERINE KNOCKED SOFTLY on the door and waited. When no one answered, she raised her fist and knocked again. After several seconds, she heard footsteps and the door swung open. Annie, clad in a nightgown, her hair disheveled and eyes puffy with sleep, peered out.
“Kate?” she asked and blinked in confusion.
Katherine nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Annie frowned and rubbed at her eyes. “Why are you here? Is everything all right?”
Katherine shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak and closed it. She could feel the tears burning the backs of her eyes and knew she was about to start crying again. She swallowed thickly and whispered, “Claire’s dead.”
Annie blinked twice and lowered her gaze to take in Katherine’s blood-smeared dress.
“She’s dead,” Katherine said again, this time louder. She started to cry.
“Come in,” Annie said quickly and opened the door wider. She stepped to the side and gestured Katherine into the apartment. “Sit down.”
Katherine walked numbly to the small sofa and sank heavily down as Annie went to the foot of the bed for her robe. She studied Katherine with a worried expression as she knotted the belt and went to the shelves for the ever-present bottle. On her way back to the living area, she grabbed a coffee cup that was sitting upside down on a drying towel.
“Nothing else is clean,” she said. “This okay?”
Katherine nodded. Annie filled the cup halfway and handed it to her. She unceremoniously gulped the contents, exhaled sharply, and extended her arm for a refill. Annie raised her eyebrows, shrugged, and poured a second shot into the cup. She pulled one of the wooden chairs over to the sofa, sat down, and picked up her pack of cigarettes. She offered one to Katherine who shook her head slightly.
“I’ve had several,” she said.
Annie nodded, struck a match on the side of the chair, and held it to the tip of the cigarette, which glowed brightly as she inhaled. She held the smoke in her lungs as she shook out the match and exhaled as she leaned back.
“What happened?” she asked gently.
“She was pregnant,” Katherine said, still staring blankly into her coffee cup. “Lenny didn’t want her to have it so he made the arrangements.”
“Arrangements?” Annie asked.
“With a doctor . . . to get rid of it,” Katherine said. “An abortion.”
Annie nodded slowly but didn’t speak.
At the silence, Katherine raised her head. “I begged her not to do it. I told her that between the two of us, we could find a way to take care of it. Or she could take it to an orphanage. But, Lenny insisted.”
Annie snorted. “Typical.”
“It was horrible. The doctor wouldn’t even come when she started to bleed.” Katherine raised the cup to her lips again. “He said there would be some bleeding and cramping, but this . . .”
She shook her head, and tears flooded her eyes, her body shaking so hard the whiskey sloshed from the coffee cup. She took several deep, gulping breaths and shakily lifted the cup to her lips and drained the contents.
“There was so much blood, Annie. It wouldn’t stop. It was everywhere. I was supposed to look in on her. But I . . . I fell asleep. By the time I woke up, it was too late.” Katherine gave Annie a pleading look. “I couldn’t make it stop. I didn’t know what to do and then it was too late.”
Katherine bent forward, her head cradled in her hands. Her body shook again.
Annie snubbed out the cigarette and went quickly to the couch. “Come here.” She pulled Katherine into her arms. “It’s okay. Shhh. It’s okay.” She gently rocked her.
“I should have left her and gone for the doctor,” Katherine said into the cloth of Annie’s robe. “This is my fault.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” Annie said. “You did the best you could. If anyone is to blame it’s Lenny and that God damned butcher of an abortionist. They should all be rounded up and shot.”
“I didn’t want to take her,” Katherine said. “But she was going to go regardless and I didn’t want her going alone.” She snuffed noisily. “It was so awful.”
“Don’t think about it now,” Annie said, still gently rocking her. Softly, she kissed the top of Katherine’s head and tucked one of the longer loose strands of hair back behind her ears. Katherine’s tears flowed again, and Annie pulled slightly away. “Look at me.” She cupped Katherine’s puffy, tear-stained face. “This was not your fault. Do you understand? There was nothing you could have done differently.”
Katherine’s eyes were filled with tears but she nodded.
“You couldn’t have stopped her,” Annie said earnestly. “And there was nothing you could have done to save her.”
Katherine opened her mouth to protest.
“Nothing,” Annie said.
They stared at each other for several seconds before Annie blinked, averted her eyes, and picked up Katherine’s cup. She poured more whiskey into it, handed it to Katherine, and tipped the bottled to her lips.
“I think maybe we both need a drink,” she said.
KATHERINE’S FIRST SENSE when she woke the next morning was that she wasn’t in her own bed. Her second realization was that she couldn’t open her eyes. They were puffy, sore, and crusted shut. She lifted a hand to rub them and became aware of the warm body next to her. She groaned and wondered how she had let herself end up in bed with Alex again. She had sworn last time that—and then she stopped, remembering.
Claire.
The heavy realization made her stomach ache. Claire was dead, and Katherine had come to Annie’s apartment. That’s where she was now. She had been crying, and Annie had given her whiskey—a lot of whiskey. And then she had washed her face, helped her out of her bloody dress, and helped her to the bed. She was in Annie’s bed—which meant that the body next to hers must be Annie. Her stomach lurched and she tried to remember what had happened after they had gone to bed. Had they . . . ?
She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. They felt glued shut. She rubbed harder and the grit gave way. She turned her head to look at Annie. She was curled onto her side on the edge of the bed. She was still in her robe. She looked quickly down to see she was wearing a faded nightgown that was far too short.
She felt suddenly ashamed. She had come to Annie for support. And after all that had happened, Annie had let her in—had taken care of her. And her first thought upon waking was that Annie had taken advantage of her.
“Shame on you,” she said aloud.
“Umm?” Annie muttered sleepily.
“Nothing,” Katherine said. Her head throbbed from the whiskey, and she lay back down. As soon as she closed her eyes, she envisioned Claire, covered in blood, on her bed. The realization struck her again. Claire was dead. And it was her fault because she had fallen asleep. She raised her hands to her face and tears flowed through her fingers.
Annie rolled over. “It’s okay,” she said in a hoarse, sleepy voice.
“I just remembered what happened to Claire,” Katherine whispered.
“Oh, sweetheart, come here.” Annie lay on her back and pulled Katherine into her arms.
For once, Katherine didn’t worry about what touching Annie might mean, but instead, turned into her embrace and rested her head on her shoulder. Annie sighed and murmured softly into her hair until Katherine fell asleep.
Katherine opened her eyes and blinked at the clock. She had slept for several hours and was surprised she was still curled around Annie’s body, her arm draped across her stomach. She shifted, and Annie murmured softly and pulled her closer. It felt good, she thought sleepily. She buried her face into Annie’s neck and inhaled the familiar scent of Breck shampoo. She felt safe. Loved.
The word echoed in her brain, and she stiffened, suddenly awake and fully aware of what she was doing. She jerked abruptly away and sat up, flustered. She glanced at Annie who blinked in confusion.
“I’m sorry,” Katherine said. “I didn’t mean to take up so much of the bed.”
She looked down at her lap and back up at Annie who was studying her with a slightly amused expression.
“It’s okay,” she said finally. “I’m just glad you slept.”
“Passed out, more like,” Katherine said and rubbed her eyes. She pushed several strands of hair from in front of her eyes and, realizing how she must look, tried to comb the rest of her hair into place with her fingers. She looked up to see Annie watching her.
“It’s no use,” Annie said with a small smile.
“That bad?” Katherine asked, unable to look away from Annie’s gaze.
Annie nodded. “But given what you’ve been through, you could look a lot worse.”
Katherine blinked, remembering in a rush the trip to the abortionist and Claire’s death. Her eyes burned.
Annie looked down at her hands, lips pressed together. “I didn’t want to ask last night, but what’s next? I assume they took the body . . . I mean, took Claire to the . . .”
Katherine nodded. Blinking back the tears, she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sure her family will handle the arrangements. I will . . . when I know more . . . I’ll . . .”
“I’d like to go to the funeral,” Annie said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Katherine said quickly. “We should go together.”
“I’d like that,” Annie said.
“Thank you for taking care of me last night,” Katherine said softly, still looking at her lap. “After the way I’ve acted, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had turned me away.”
“I’d never do that,” Annie said. “We’re friends.”
Katherine lifted her eyes to meet Annie’s. “I know that. And if I didn’t before, I do now.”
KATHERINE MET CLAIRE’S parents at the train station the next day.
“They were confused and disoriented,” she told Annie later that evening as they sat in Annie’s apartment and sipped tea. “Part of it was that they’ve never been to a city the size of Chicago. But more than that they just seemed . . . lost. I wanted to help more, but they didn’t want me to.”
“They’re probably in shock,” Annie said and leaned forward to look closely at Katherine. “How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know. I feel mainly . . . numb.” Katherine closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s like what happened wasn’t real. I’m so tired. All I want to do is sleep. But I tried to lay down this afternoon and all I could see was Claire laying there with blood everywhere.”
She pushed at her eyelids with her fingertips.
“And knowing that her room, her things, her bed is just down the hall,” she said wearily. “It just makes the fact that she’s gone seem all that much more real.”
“What are her parents going to do about the funeral?” Annie asked.
“They’re taking her home,” Katherine said. “As soon as the coroner releases . . . her.”
Annie nodded. “Will you go? To the funeral?”
Katherine shook her head. “Her parents have asked me not to go. And they’ve asked me to tell the man who did this to her that he’s not welcome either.” She sighed. “They blame the people she knew here in Chicago for what happened.”
Annie raised her eyebrows.
“They’re very religious. Catholic. Apparently they didn’t approve of her life here.” Katherine picked up her cup and, more for something to do rather than because it was hot, blew on it. She put it down without taking a sip. “I offered to pack up her things but they made it clear they didn’t want my help. It’s awkward.”
“Why don’t you stay here?” Annie asked.
Katherine blinked and looked up, startled.
“Just for a day or two,” Annie continued. “Until they are gone. It has to be uncomfortable to have them down the hall from you.”
“It is,” Katherine admitted. “But I don’t know about staying here.”
“I’m not going to take advantage of you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Annie said and added playfully, “Unless you want me to.”
Katherine blushed as she recalled waking up next to Annie, her arm draped across her midsection. Embarrassed, she looked down at her lap.
