Drawing Blood (24 page)

Chapter Forty-One

Elliot

He was changing out of his work clothes when Janet silently entered the room, closing the door behind her. He could read her body language and knew she had something to say.

He turned, shrugging out of his shirt. “What? Is anything wrong?” She didn’t want to meet his eyes, so she was about to tell him something that made her very uncomfortable. He stood still, shirt in hand. “Janet? What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

She rubbed a hand across her growing belly and moved to sit on the bed. “I don’t know how to say this. I’ve never had to deal with this before.”

He knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Come on, honey. Just say it.”

She took a deep breath. “I was doing laundry today. And I couldn’t help but notice that … there are a lot of liquor bottles downstairs.”

Elliot frowned. “What do you mean
a lot
?”

“There’s a case of whiskey down there. Only one bottle has anything in it.”

He leaned back on his heels.

“I wasn’t snooping, I swear to God. But what if he sits down there drinking every night?”

Elliot had no answer. This was an awkward spot to be in.

“I don’t think he’s dangerous. But if he’s still here when the baby comes …”

Elliot rubbed his hands up and down his face. He usually did that to buy time. “Okay. I’ll check and see if he’s okay. His father was an alcoholic, and plenty of those guys I meet with have trouble with drinking, too. I wish he would start going with me but … he’s got to decide that for himself.”

“I know. I’m sorry. This puts you in a bad place.”

He smiled. “How do you read my mind like that?”

She shrugged, smiling back. “I just know you, sweetheart.” She put her arms around his shoulders and he crowded closer to her.

“You do. So what am I thinking right now?”

Her smiled broadened and she gave him a short kiss. “I’m thinking not right now: the chicken’s almost done.”

“Will it burn?” He kept kissing her then started kissing down her neck. She trembled.

“Elliot, I mean it. Supper’s almost done.”

“Why’d you shut the door then?”

Now she was giggling. “Elliot -”

“What if I promise to be quick?”

“Elliot!”

He couldn’t convince her, but she promised she’d be more forthcoming later on. He doubted it, but he liked seeing her flustered when she left the room.

He pulled on an undershirt and joined her in the kitchen. She indicated that David was downstairs.

Elliot sighed and decided to take the bull by the horns. He descended the stairs exactly like a kid going to the principal’s office.

David was washing up for supper. He greeted Elliot from the bathroom, and Elliot took a seat at the table to wait. He could see the liquor case; it was against the wall right next to the other kitchen chair. No need to be coy then.

David came out of the washroom, shutting the light off. “Something wrong?” He may have been troubled but that didn’t make him stupid.

Elliot kicked the box of empty bottles with one foot. “I’m worried about you, Dave.”

Elliot immediately felt like shit. Dave’s face fell. But he didn’t get mad. He sat in the other chair, resting his head on his hand, elbow on the table. “Shit,” he adequately summed it up.

“I mean, you’ve gone through all that in how long? Three weeks?”

“Yeah.” His voice was soft and incredibly embarrassed.

“Tell me what’s going on. You can tell me anything.”

The young man sighed, leaning back in his chair. He had the cane between his knees, turning it around to avoid looking at Elliot. “I don’t know.”

Elliot just waited. You can’t make people tell you the truth.

“If I don’t … black out, I can’t sleep. I have these nightmares and I’m … terrified to go to sleep otherwise.”

The words hurt him, but it wasn’t about him. He leaned towards his friend. “That isn’t out of the ordinary … I remember that nightmare you had in France, I remember seeing you thrashing in your bed with your eyes wide open, locked in that nightmare. That’s scary. I can see you not wanting to go through it. But you know this isn’t the way.” David wasn’t meeting his gaze. He knew David was thinking of his alcoholic father. He hoped so. “I’m just surprised. You’re so … functional. You’re on time to work, and you get it all done.”

David gave a laugh without much humour to it. “Coffee and asprin.”

Elliot smiled back. He really had no idea how to help him. His impulse was to shake him. “You talk to me when you’re ready. Come with me to Group when you’re ready. But this is not right. I want to see you healthy and happy. I mean, why’d you bother trying so hard to make it through Europe if you’re wasting all this?”

David shrugged, but he had been nodding along.

“Come up for supper. Janet cooked a chicken. It smells fantastic.”

“Does she hate me?”

Elliot frowned. “What?”

“She must know. Does she hate me for this?”

“Come on. She puts up with me. Hell, I think she likes you more than me most days.”

David looked like he didn’t believe him, but he stood anyway and followed Elliot up to the kitchen. Elliot had never loved Janet more than he did when she greeted David with a big hug, rubbing his back.

Everyone in the room knew the reason why she did it. And David wasn’t embarrassed, he hugged her back. After a moment Elliot realized his friend was sobbing, silently, but still sobbing. Janet squeezed him tighter.

He had a mom that loved him very much
, Elliot remembered. That’s where his only sense of comfort had likely come from. He had witnessed it in France, too. The second Abigail had touched him David had snapped out of a nightmare and calmed down. He needed that female presence now more than ever.

They had a lovely meal with kind conversation, but everyone seemed to be speaking very carefully. When it was done David washed the dishes, like he always did, he even dried and sorted them now that he knew where everything went. Janet sat on the sofa reading her book while Elliot read the paper. When the dishes were done David wished them all goodnight and returned to his room.

Elliot watched him make his way down the stairs and hated the pity that he felt for his friend. David would have resented the hell out of it, too. It wasn’t the fact that he needed the cane. It was the fact that he was alone. Elliot had never felt luckier than he did right then.

When they went to bed Elliot kissed Janet for all he was worth, and when they made love it was relaxed but passionate. She had to know how much he loved her, needed her, how much she meant to him. He didn’t dare allow himself to finish until she was limp and exhausted from pleasure. She was smiling as she relaxed on her side facing him, and he watched her face loosen as she dozed off.

The next day was Saturday, and he woke to wonderful smells from the kitchen. Confused, he rolled to his back. Yes, Janet was still there, asleep. When he moved it woke her up, and she stretched while laying out flat on her back. Then she smelled it, too.

“Is that bacon?”

He smiled, sitting up. “It smells like bacon. And eggs.”

“And toast. And coffee.” She was smiling too. “I haven’t had anyone cook for me in a long time.”

He feigned injury. “I cook for you.”

“Oatmeal isn’t cooking, dear. But I love you.”

He leaned over her to give her a kiss. “Make sure you put clothes on before you come out to eat,” he mumbled, sliding a hand under the blanket. “I don’t want to make our guest uncomfortable.” He smoothed his palm along her rounded stomach and then lower.

“Elliot,” she gasped, but she moved her hips in response.

“What?”

“You should stop that,” but she closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, breath quickening.

He kept his hand doing what it wanted. “Shhh. Keep quiet.”

She giggled softly, and he stayed on his side, watching her as she trembled and quaked through her orgasm. He kissed her neck then made to get out of bed, but she pulled him back by the shoulders. Apparently she wasn’t done with him.

It was brief and intense, but when she used her mouth on him it usually was. They had managed to make no noise, but as they came out of the bedroom in bedclothes and robes Elliot felt as though it must be plain as day what they were doing behind that closed door.

If it was, David didn’t care. He had a plate of bacon in the stove keeping warm and he was turning eggs over-easy in a frying pan. The coffee pot was percolating on the stove and the table was already set. Elliot held out a chair for Janet, calling “Good morning,” across the counter.

David smiled at him, bringing the coffee pot to the table. “Good morning, Lieutenant. Mrs. Murphy.”

Janet smiled up at Elliot, bemused. She knew he hated that “Sir” and “Lieutenant” stuff. That was why she used it on him from time to time.

“What in the world are you up to?”

“Nothing. I got up early, thought I’d make breakfast for you two. You should really learn to make breakfast, Lieutenant. When that baby comes she’s not going to be taking as good of care of you anymore. Baby takes precedence. You might starve.”

Janet burst out laughing, and Elliot felt like he’d missed something here. “Well, how much do you charge for mess hall duties?”

“Room and board, sir.”

“Well, all right then.” Elliot sat next to Janet, and she was grinning like she was enjoying him getting the gears like this.

“I’m thinking I should start looking at houses, too. I do have money saved up. I know you didn’t believe me about that, but my sister sold my parents’ place and put half in savings for me. I think it might … do me good to have something to take care of. Hard to get bored when you have a house to look after. Might help if I go to bed completely exhausted, too.”

Elliot was watching David, looking for some sign that he just wanted to be free of them so he could drink himself in to an early grave. He didn’t see any: David seemed sincerely excited about the thought as he set the plate of eggs and bacon down in the centre of the table.

“I mean, I’m excited for you and all, but when that baby comes … you should really have the place to yourself. And I’ll wait a few days before coming over to see the kid. I’m praying it looks like you, Janet. Because if it looks like him … well. Let’s just hope for the best, right?”

Janet was rolling now, and Elliot was giving David his best stern-face but it was difficult when he wanted to laugh, too. David had always used charm and humour to hide his feelings. Elliot hoped that wasn’t the case this time.

Chapter Forty-Two

David

Finding a house was easy. With the contacts that Elliot’s father-in-law had he was able to find a small but tidy house about three blocks from Elliot and Janet’s place. It had a garage in the back yard, an unfinished basement, and two bedrooms on the upper floor that had originally been attic space. The main level’s bedroom had been knocked out to make the living room and dining rooms bigger, and the washroom was also on the main floor.

Other than the location of the bathroom, it felt exactly like Abigail’s house in France. The second they walked in he was stupefied by the feeling he’d been there before. And in the living room was an upright piano, listed as part of the sale. He didn’t think Elliot noticed the similarities, but it was hard to tell. David didn’t know how much Janet knew about those two days in France, and he wasn’t about to be the one to bring it all up.

It needed some work; fixing up the floors, coat of paint, some yard work. But that was all cosmetic. He and Elliot knew at a glance the foundation was good, the windows were sound, and the boiler and water heater were even brand new. He made an offer the afternoon they found it and it was accepted the next morning.

Elliot and Janet gave him the downstairs furniture. He wanted to protest but Janet explained that this way they’d get new furniture for the upstairs at their place. He had agreed on the basis that it would help her out. She took him shopping for all the linens, dishes and kitchen crap he’d need. He had no idea how much stuff it took to live on your own. They found a bed on sale, and he bought a radio from a second-hand store. Then Elliot took him shopping for a lawn mower, snow shovel, all that outdoor stuff he was going to need.

David might even get a car at some point. Wouldn’t that be adult of him?

When the time came to move in, the place still looked pretty empty. He realized he needed lamps; there were no lights in the living room at all, just a fireplace. The dining room had a chandelier over the table, at least. He shuffled around his first night alone making a list of what he still had to get. He wanted a wall clock, something else to hang on these bare walls, and someone else to be around.

He sunk down on to the sofa in the dim living room. The house was incredibly quiet around him. He heard every vehicle that drove by outside. This was what alone was. Even back home he’d never been this alone. He let his eyes fall closed, but that was dangerous. He didn’t want to fall asleep. He was sure he’d have a nightmare. Or worse, he’d dream about Abigail.

He had no idea why he was dreaming about her now. It had just started in the last while, and he always woke up ready to cry, sick to his stomach that it hadn’t been real. Maybe it was being around Murphy again. David might prefer the nightmares; it was a relief when he realized they weren’t real.

There’s no need to rush it,
he told himself. He could find someone. The key was to not be looking. That’s when you’ll find someone wonderful. That was how they had found Abigail.
Not that I found her. Murphy did.

Trying to avoid it didn’t help. He drifted off in to sleep, and when he woke to hands playing with the hair on the back of his neck he was very aware it wasn’t real. But he opened his eyes anyway, smiling at Abigail in that blue-green dress she’d been wearing the night before they left. He could even smell her. He stood up, and his leg was, of course, completely healed. She took his outstretched hand, and when he pulled her in to his arms a record was playing on a phantom phonograph.

Abigail was smiling up at him with all the adoration he could handle, even more than she’d shown Elliot in the time they’d been at her house. Of course, he didn’t know how she looked at Elliot when they’d been alone. But this was his dream: this look was just for him.

“
I'm wild again, beguiled again, a simpering, whimpering child again … Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I …
”

She was singing along with Ella Fitzgerald, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed her hand tighter in his.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with tears.

“Of course I will.”

When he opened his eyes it was dark in the living room. A car drove by outside. His face was wet with tears. Jesus, he really had to get out more. He took a shuddering breath, ignoring the ache in his chest.
You knew her for two fucking days,
he reminded himself, getting up and turning on the light in the kitchen. He got the milk out of the fridge and poured a glass of that instead of whiskey. Murphy said this helped him sleep. David was willing to try it, but he was skeptical.

It seemed to help. He didn’t sleep the whole night through, but all the dreams were held at bay. So he kept at it for the next five or six nights.
One foot in front of the other
, as Murphy would say. He worked the rest of the week, feeling a bit tired and edgy. David wanted to kick his own ass. Clearly that alcohol had taken a deeper hold that he thought; he was actually suffering from withdrawal.

The next Friday night some of the guys from the office were heading out for a beer. They invited him and Elliot. Elliot declined since he had a pregnant wife at home, but David tagged along. He realized as they arrived at the Legion that he barely knew the people he was with. Didn’t matter, David had always been quick to make friends.

Dale Edwards was a loud mouth, built like a brick shit house so he got away with it. Gregory MacKenzie was small, with hair black as jet. He’d been in the Air Force during the war, but he never did mention what and where he served. He was slight of build with a face full of freckles, quick with jokes – he was fun to have around. Jeffrey Clarence had nearly-white blonde hair and icy blue eyes. He’d been in the navy, and all he said about that was he’d wanted to move somewhere land-locked once the war was over. His steely gaze shut down any further questions one might want to put to him.

One beer in and David wondered aloud where his place was in the group: they had the muscle, the mouth and the strong silent guy. So what the hell was he?

“That’s easy,” Greg MacKenzie said, sipping his beer. “You’re the good-looking one the girls will come to talk to.”

David just nodded. “That sounds about right.”

“That cane must help with the nursey-types,” Dale assumed. “Doesn’t it?”

David shrugged, ignoring the pull he felt in his chest at the term
nursey
. “Not really. Dames like to dance.”

“You reel ‘em in, we’ll dance with them,” Dale concluded.

So he knew his role.

Greg was right. Women did think he was handsome, he really never understood why. But soon their party had doubled in size and the blonde on his lap didn’t care if he couldn’t dance for shit. She was kissing him full on the lips every chance she got and squeezing his knee. She may have been one of the shiny pebbles but she seemed to like him just fine.

“I want to go home with you,” she whispered in his ear. Over his shoulder he could see Dale and Greg sharing a look before grinning at him. They couldn’t have heard her; they must have just been enjoying the show.

“You got a car?”

“Yes.”

He finished off his beer and put the bottle down loudly. “Then let’s go.”

David was far more sober, so he took the keys from her when they got to the parking lot. She was stumbling a bit, but she wasn’t a complete sloppy mess. They found her Buick Eight in the parking lot, and for a moment he wondered how the hell she could afford such a gorgeous car. Then she was kissing him again, rubbing her hand on the front of his pants and chewing his lip.

Jesus she’s a hot one.
He had to get her home fast.

At his place she made herself right at home, throwing her jacket on the sofa and helping him out of his tie and suit coat. She was curvy and firm, her hips nicely swelling away from her narrow waist, her breasts fantastically full under his hands. No need for a lot of warm up.

She stripped him of his clothes once they got to the bedroom. He laid back and watched her take off everything she had on under her dress. She left the garters and stockings on at his request then crawled up the bed and over him to kiss him again like she was trying to chew the life out of him. She took his erection in her hand, giving it a few good strokes before he took her hand away. He didn’t want to finish yet. So she slid him inside, warm and wet, and he took over from there. His leg would never be too lame for this.

She was loud, but he didn’t care. As long as she stopped biting his lip – that was annoying. It was intense, over a little quicker than he’d intended, but there was no such thing as a bad orgasm. He had no idea if hers had been real. She was a bit of a performer but still better than some of the others he’s been with. She fell asleep next to him, on her stomach, still in the garters and stockings. He covered her up, stared up at the ceiling for a while, and actually passed out dead to the world.

David didn’t need booze to have a dreamless sleep. Sex worked just as well.