Chapter 19

© Copyright 2006 by Kendra Cornell



Karen woke the next morning, sunshine streaming in through the windows. She lay on a bed with an ornately carved wooden headboard, and she was covered with a colorful, patchwork quilt. Every muscle in her body ached and her eyes felt like lead. Where was she?

Swallowing with difficulty, she raised herself to a sitting position when it came back to her. The desperate run in the dark, escaping, and her meeting with the lean man in the church- what was his name? Paul… he had cleaned her feet- gently, but efficiently. Sweeping aside the blanket, Karen looked at her feet which were still swaddled in their white gauze blankets. They still ached a little bit, but had improved tremendously since last night.

On the small night table, carved in similar fashion to the headboard, was placed a silver tray. A glass of water, two pills, a daffodil and a note were placed there. Sweeping her hair back out of her face, Karen picked up the note which had been folded in half.

Good morning! I hope you slept well. I brought you some Tylenol, in case your feet still hurt. I have church this morning but will be back around 11. If you can manage, I left some clean clothes in the bathroom, and you are welcome to get cleaned up while I’m gone.
See you in a while,
Paul

She breathed a silent sigh of relief that she was alone. Getting too close to anyone made her nervous. Swinging her legs to the side of the bed, Karen gingerly put pressure on her feet. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips. Adding weight to her other foot, she stood up and breathed a sigh of relief. It hurt- there was no denying that. But at least now, she could hobble around a bit.

There were open blinds on the windows. Green branches swayed slightly in the morning breeze outside, and a quiet hush reigned over the neighborhood. Karen realized she couldn’t be far from her own house, but had no idea where she was. Across the street stood the church into which she had escaped last night. Not surprisingly, it looked much different in the daytime than the impression she had garnered in the near-pitch darkness of the night before.

Outside the room was a small landing. A slim black table with clean, simple lines had been placed against the wall at the head of the stairs. A mirror was hung over it, and Karen caught her reflection as she passed it. Twigs and leaves were crumbled in the tangled mess of her hair. Tears had mixed with dirt and mascara in streaks down her face.

“It’s a surprise he didn’t just call the police the second he saw me,” Karen said aloud. She noticed filth on the legs of her pants where she had kneeled and crawled last night trying to elude the police. I was eluding the police… Is this for real? But again, she was filled with a sense that at least for now, she had no other choice.

Clean clothes- a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt- were laid on the counter in the bathroom. The room looked little used. Dust lay on the once-shiny fixtures and the mirror had a fine film as well. The tub was a no-frills affair- purely institutional. But it would do the trick. Karen drew a bath, wanting to soak away the pain in her muscles. Besides, she wanted to stay off her feet for a bit. Karen noticed a small chrome basket placed on the counter and in it were placed three glass bottles- one contained lavender crystals, one rose crystals, and one yellow crystals labeled ‘Lily of the Valley.’ It looked like the kind of thing that had been an unwanted Christmas gift- picked up without thought to the recipient. Karen smiled as she imagined the presumably nice Paul trying to express gratitude for such a gift.

Karen poured in some of the lavender-scented crystals and a deliciously scented foam rose up. Stepping into the hot water caused a massive jolt to her system- pain screamed up her legs and her knees almost buckled, but having eaten and rested, she was better able to cope with the pain now than she had been last night.

Her aching muscles eased into the hot water, and the delicious sensation caused her mind to empty. But after a few moments, thoughts began to slip in unbidden. The same unanswered questions swirled around in her brain. Still though, nothing assuaged the sensation. Sighing in frustration, Karen rose to her feet which had been cured enough to stand on, and washed her hair with the Spartan shampoo that had been placed in the shower. Toweling off, she managed to get put together, at least at a minimum level, with things she found stashed in the drawers.

Karen had painfully slipped on a pair of socks because there was no gauze left with which she could wrap her feet, but the socks cushioned her tread, and she was able to slowly manage her way down the stairs and back into the kitchen. The house wasn’t large- she recognized the living room where she had been cared for the night before. A study stood off to the other side of the stairs, and back through the doorway lay the kitchen and a dining room. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was comfortable.

Karen saw that a blue ceramic bowl had been left on the counter next to a spoon and box of corn flakes. Another note matching the one upstairs was placed next to it:

Sorry- it’s all I’ve got, but you’re welcome to it!

Karen laughed despite herself. He was a strange man, but so far, she liked him. The thought was disconcerting. Opening herself up to someone meant being hurt. I need to put the kibosh on that immediately, she thought.

She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat at the table. Munching quietly, she looked out the French doors that led to a small deck. A barbecue grill and a picnic table were the only things out there. Green grass stretched all the way to the high wooden fence. While she was comfortable at the moment, Karen knew she had to figure out what she was going to do now. She couldn’t stay here- she didn’t even know this man- This man who carried her around easily and left her corn flakes.

The grin slowly slid off of Karen’s face. She didn’t know this man and here she was, starting to trust him after all the mistakes she’d made. All the errors in judgment- all the times she’d messed up and cost herself big time. Karen couldn’t go home. She had no family here, no clothes other than what she wore at the moment, no identification, no money, no one she could trust. Karen had never in her life felt as helpless as she did at that moment. Pushing the bowl away, Karen rested her head in her hands. What am I going to do?

For the third time in as many days, Karen felt her control slipping. Hot tears slid down her cheeks, and she tasted the salt on her lips. Karen didn’t cry- how many women politicians had lost their edge by being seen crying in public? Crying was equated with weakness, and if there was anything she wasn’t, it was weak. Yet here she was, crying because of her loss, because of her lack of control, because of the kindness of a man she didn’t know if she could trust.

I’m going to have to trust him… or leave before I have to explain things. But where am I going to go? I have nowhere to go- no way to get there. I have nothing. For the first time in my adult life I have nothing. Another thought occurred to her that was just as disconcerting as her other line of thought: What if he starts talking about some religious garbage? What if he starts asking if I’m saved and all that? Oh, no. That’s the last thing I need right now is to start trying to ward off all that stuff…

Thoughts of desperation flowed through her head as she cried silently and angrily at Paul’s little kitchen table. There was a small part of her brain that was chiming in, “This isn’t you! This isn’t who you are! You are always in control. You don’t cry. You know what to do and when to do it. You are not the type to lose it like this!” But for the first time in her life, Karen didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything- she just felt an overwhelming sense of loss. She just felt for the first time in a long time. And she didn’t like it.

A lock sounded in the front door, and Karen used the heels of her hands to wipe the tears off her face. Paul stuck his head in the front door, obviously trying not to startle her. Was there any end to his consideration?

“Hello? Anybody up yet?” he called.

Sniffing loudly, Karen called in a choked up voice, “I’m in here.”

Paul came up the hall with a concerned look darkening his features. “Hi Karen. Are you okay? Do your feet still hurt that badly?” He stood in the doorway, wanting to approach her, but sensing that she needed space right now.

Karen avoided his gaze, not wanting to explain, but knowing that at some point, she was going to have to do so.

“No- I’m fine really,” and to her own horror, Karen fell again into a frenzy of weeping. It seemed to be springing from some deep well inside of her, and Karen was powerless to stem the flow.

To his credit, Paul didn’t seem the least bit fazed. Perhaps he’d seen this kind of thing many times. She didn’t know. All she knew was that Paul had risen and returned, softly setting a box of tissues in front of her. She took one and mopped her face, making a feeble attempt at a friendly smile.

“Thanks.”

Paul returned the smile. “No problem. Are you hungry? I’d be happy to make you something…”

Karen gestured at her empty bowl. “I just ate, but thank you anyway. What are you? Some kind of saint? You take a strange woman into your home with hardly a question asked, feed her, give her clothes- is this normal behavior for you?”

Paul expelled a breath, “Well, not really to be perfectly honest.” She sat for a moment confused.

“Then… why?”

He smiled a gentle smile that made his eyes crease at the corners. “Well, you needed help. And beyond that, I guess I just have the feeling that God put you here for a reason.”

Here it comes, she thought. Something in Karen’s gut rolled. She did not feel comfortable discussing God with this man. She didn’t feel comfortable thinking about it alone. Paul must have sensed her discomfort because he leaned back and put his hands behind his head, a picture of relaxation.

“You’re uncomfortable with the idea of God? Or just me mentioning Him…”

“Take your pick,” she said wiping away the last of her tears with a damp tissue.

Paul nodded and leaned forward again. “I don’t want to push you or anything, but do you want to tell me how you came to be in the church last night?” Paul asked, changing the subject.

Thank you, she thought silently. “I was running away, I guess.”

“From what?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. Interest and concern illustrated his features.

Karen paused a moment, debating how much she had to tell him. It really wasn’t fair to withhold that he was now harboring someone wanted for murder… was it? Gathering strength, she straightened up. “I was running away from the police.”

Paul bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to look surprised. This woman, who had last night turned up in the church barely able to walk, filthy and bleeding and who was now sitting in his kitchen dressed in one of his old t-shirts and looking like an eighteen year old girl with her long blonde hair damp and hanging around her face, was a criminal? He scratched his head and replied, “I see. And how did you come to be running from the police?”

Frowning in her attempt to ward off an explanation, she answered him succinctly, “Long story.”

Rising from the table, Paul went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of iced tea. He placed one in front of her and seated himself again across the table. With kindness and curiosity, but no fear, he looked her in the eye and told her, “It just so happens that I have an open schedule.”




HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Kendra Cornell if you have a comment! She would really like to hear from you.





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