Mountain Junction
**
Chapter 13 **
House Repair
Upon entering Stella's large boudoir, it at
first appeared that nothing was amiss.
The overstuffed chairs with their intricate flower design were sitting
neatly against the walls, as was the large mahogany wardrobe, a lavender silk
robe hanging carelessly off one corner of the double doors. A long padded seat ran along the foot of the
bed in front of a large stone fireplace.
Next to the fireplace stood a simple wood and brocade screen. Stella's stays hung over the top, the laces
drooping down over the lavender cloth.
Behind it sat a porcelain tub, a grate underneath it draining used water
into the garden. Cloths from baths the
night before still lay in a heap on the fireplace hearth. All three noticed the rust-colored stains on
some of the cloths and towels, but said nothing. A pitcher and bowl stood out pristine and white against the dark
grain of its wood stand.
The area
near the large, lavender curtained windows however, was a mess. Atop her dresser, the white runner was
covered with glass and whiskey stains.
Whiskey pooled on the surface of the mirror, and under the handle of her
hairbrush and comb. On the floor was more
glass, and blood smeared in small spots on the Oriental rug at the side of the
bed. A Tiffany lamp from a bedside
table lay on its side on the floor, its delicate shade cracked where it had
landed. It was the bed, however, that
they all stared at in disbelief.
André and
Julie stood motionless near the bedside, forcing the Doctor to push his way
through them. He immediately checked
the still form on the bed for a pulse.
It was perceptible, thankfully, but weak. Once he knew she was still alive, he began checking her wounds.
"Mon
Dieu! Qu'est-ce-que animal put faire
cela?" André gasped.
Julie did
not know French, but she understood one word.
"Animal? An animal would
have had the decency to kill her."
She shot at him.
"Whoever
did this darn near killed her," the Doctor said with a frown, his look of
disgust directed at André. To Julie, he
asked, "Are you up to this?"
"Of
course I am," Julie said with a swallow.
She could not get over the purple mass on the pillow. It should have been a face. The swelling from an obviously dislocated
jaw made it misshapen and off balance.
Blood ran across the forehead in streaks down to her closed eyes. Blood had also seeped so deeply into her
hair, that Julie was not sure what the hair color actually was.
She went to
move to the other side of the bed, finally noticing the big form of the town
constable inspecting the corner where the decanter of whiskey had once stood on
a tray. The corner of his lip was
raised, disdain over the mess before him obvious to all. The tray still had the glasses on it, but
the crystal decanter was in shards across the vanity and floor. In his hand the constable held the wickedly
broken neck, blood coating the jagged edges.
He put it in a satchel quickly, to spare her the sight. There was a sound of glass rattling, as the
neck joined the larger remnants of the ball of the decanter, which had
shattered over Stella's head. The
constable refused to move to allow her near the bed.
"You
should not be here, Mrs. Belsom. This
is no place for you." He shot a
reproving look at the Doctor and André, who was still staring in shock at
Stella's still body.
"I am
here to help Doctor Hanson, Mr. Stewart," she said with steely
determination. "Kindly let me
through to do that."
"Let
one of the girls do it. That's good
enough for the likes of her." He
said with a shake of his head toward the bed.
Something
deep within André snapped. Coming out of his shock, he moved past Julie and
cornered the constable. "Stella and every other girl here are worth more
then that," he growled as he moved in closer. "No one deserves this!
Look at her!" he said, forcing the constable to look at the mess on
the bed. "What if she was your
sister?"
Stewart
quickly released himself from André's grasp.
"My sister would never be here." He said in disgust.
"Don't
be too sure about that," Andre said hotly. "Most of these girls are someone's sister."
The Doctor
had heard enough. "Stewart, are
you through here? This might be a crime
scene, but first and foremost, it is my patient's room." His face reddened as he continued. "If you want to argue, gentlemen, do it
downstairs, and let my nurse and I go about putting this poor woman back
together!" One look at the
Doctor’s stern expression, and both men knew he meant business.
Julie had
moved to the seat at the foot of the bed and sat watching the scuffle in
disbelief. She had never seen André so
angry, and from what she had heard about him, no one else had either. She watched as he composed himself and moved
away from Stewart to the fireplace.
Leaning straight-armed against the mantle, he concentrated on the small
wooden clock.
Stewart
straightened his jacket and looked at the Doctor. "For now Doc, I'm done." He moved quickly past the fireplace, avoiding looking at André or
Julie.
"Just
make sure you find the animal who did this," André said quietly, still
looking at the clock. "I have
people who can help you, if you need them."
"I
don't need your help Jermond," Stewart quickly replied. His voice softened a bit as he realized that
the Frenchman was truly offering his connections to help. "And we will find who did
this." He left the room
quietly. A few minutes later, they
heard the front door close.
Julie closed
the bedroom door silently, and returned to the bed to go to work. Pulling back the sheet, she saw that bruises
and slashes continued down Stella's torso, the rips and blood almost making her
simple silk shift unrecognizable. She
looked at the Doctor wordlessly, and then at André who stood unbelieving at the
broken face that had been the smiling Stella the day before.
"What
can I do, Doc?" André finally asked.
"I'm
going to have to set those ribs, her jaw, and that arm," the Doctor said
matter-of-factly. "And Julie is
not strong enough to hold Stella down while I do it." André nodded in understanding and was about
to come closer to the bed when Cindy poked her head in the door.
"Is
there anything I can do for her, Frenchie?" She asked quietly.
André said
nothing, but Julie was immediately at the door. Noticing the dumbwaiter by the wardrobe, she looked up into the
concerned eyes of the tall blonde and smiled.
"I need hot water, and plenty of it," she said. "And when we are done with cleaning the
wounds, I am going to need clean sheets and blankets. Would you mind helping me?"
Cindy stared
down at the small women, and couldn't help but be grateful for her respectful
tone. Having been a working girl for
many years, she was used to women like Julie looking down on her. At that moment, Cindy would have done
anything for Julie. With a smile, she
went downstairs to start warming water for the bucket in the dumbwaiter. Julie closed the door and turned back to the
men. The doctor was already cutting the
shift away from Stella's flesh, and Julie silently removed the top sheets and
blankets, rolling them into a ball on the seat at the foot of the bed. André, sensing that he was not needed at the
moment, excused himself to see to the girls who were leaving for the dance
hall.
By the time
he returned, the doctor was running his fingers along Stella's ribcage,
checking for the telltale springiness where solid bone should be. "Four broken ribs."
Julie wanted
to inspect her scalp, but the water had not turned up yet. "André, would you please check the
dumbwaiter?" she asked as she pulled back matted hair from Stella's
crown. Unable to see anything because
of the mess, she inspected the slashes along her arms and torso. Noticing a deep slash on Stella's left palm,
she decided to stitch that wound first.
"I want to sew this gash, but I need to soak the fishhooks and
thread in alcohol for fifteen minutes."
"I'll
do it," André said, glad to have something to do. Getting the thread and hooks out of the
doctors leather bag, he poured the alcohol into the bowl and left the items to
soak. Checking the mantle clock, he
went back to the dumbwaiter, which was still empty. "How long ago did Cindy leave?" He asked.
No one answered him. After
fifteen minutes, he gave the thread and hook to Julie on a clean towel, let her
wash her hands in the bowl, and emptied it into the tub behind the screen.
"Good
God!" exclaimed André from behind the screen. Julie looked around the
other end of the screen and gasped. The white porcelain lip was smeared with
bloody handprints, the bottom near the drain pink where the water and blood had
settled before going down the grate.
"He took a bath."
André's voice was strained as he struggled to keep control. Julie silently went back to the task of
stitching, while he returned to check the dumbwaiter. Seeing it was still empty, he was about to go downstairs to see
what was keeping Cindy, when he heard the familiar sounds of the pulleys.
The three
set about the task of putting Stella back together. Now they had water, they could clean up the wounds. Once the slashes to her torso were clean,
the Doctor wrapped her ribs while Julie continued stitching. André took charge of the water, silently
filling the bowl with fresh water from the bucket, which now came regularly up
the dumbwaiter. Through it all they
remained silent, moving around the thankfully unconscious Stella like
specters. Julie did her best to clean
her face and hair, finally seeing that the woman's hair was brown as she
stitched the nasty gash that ran across the crown of Stella's head.
Running his
fingers along the jaw line, the doctor told André that her jaw was dislocated
and thankfully not broken. "We
need to put it back in place, but we should set that arm first." André nodded and moved beside Julie to set
the broken right arm. Using water set
aside from the warm to cool, Julie applied cool cloths to Stella's forehead
whispering soothing words in her ears.
As the men twisted the arm back into shape with a crack, she hoped with
all her heart that the words of comfort were reaching the patient. When they finally got to her jaw, however,
Julie left the room and went to the landing, quietly laying her head against
the cool glass of one of the windows.
Unnoticed, Cindy and Anna watched in admiration from the bottom of the stairs,
as she straightened her back and went back to the room. When she returned, the men made no mention
of her absence.
By the time
Stella was bandaged and cleaned up, it was already dark. The Doctor went home, leaving Julie and
André alone. André changed the
compresses on her forehead, as Julie replaced the water in the bowl. After the Doctor left, Cindy and Angel
entered the room, with fresh sheets and blankets.
Cindy went
to put the blankets on the chair nearest the wardrobe. By the edge of the wardrobe, was another
bucket, lying on its side. "Oh,
there is that bucket! she exclaimed."
That's what took so long, Frenchie, I had to find another bucket to put
water in."
Angel chimed
in. "Why was it on the floor?
Stella always keeps the bucket on the shelf, so her customers can take
baths. We all know that, from when we
take baths. Anna and Stella are the
only ones who have dumbwaiters to the kitchen."
André took
the opportunity to go downstairs and talk to Anna. "Perhaps Anna knows, I will mention it to her." The door closed gently behind him.
As they
worked together to change the sheets and put a fresh shift on the still
unconscious Stella, the three women attempted conversation.
"Does
... this kind of thing happen often?" Julie finally asked.
"No. Well … not like this no,” Angel said as she
tucked in a sheet. “Messy-ore has
people to keep us safe."
"Usually
they stop anyone who gets a bit ... rough," Cindy added quietly as she
laid a fresh blanket across the bed and tucked it in around Stella's chin.
"So,
how rough is considered alright then?" Julie asked with a frown. She had changed the pillows, and was now
putting them gently under Stella's head.
Stella still had made no sound.
"Oh you
know, some men like to move you around, or pretend like they are the master,"
Cindy said. The look on Julie’s face
stopped her from elaborating further.
"It’s not that bad, Jul— Mrs. Belsom."
"I have
never seen anyone get hurt here," Angel added. "I think it's this house.
They don't feel like they can break anything."
Julie
checked the bandage on Stella's head to see if their movements had opened the
huge gash on the crown of her head.
Thankfully, it seemed the stitches would hold. "You don't have any idea who could have done this to
her?" she asked with surprise.
Angel looked
at Cindy. There was no way a lady like
Julie could understand their line of work.
Picking up the sheets, blanket and soiled cloths from the floor around
the bed and fireplace, she simply said, "Mrs. Belsom, we pay attention to
the men who pay attention to us. Stella
does the same thing. Once we have our
man, we go to our rooms. Most of the
time, I don't notice who goes with someone else."
Cindy picked
up the bucket containing the remaining glass and debris from the broken
decanter, rolling up the ruined table runner as well. "Well, you notice quick enough if it's Mr. Carmack,” she
said with a glint. "He tips
well."
"Well I
did see him first, and you were busy playing the piano!" Angel shot back.
"Yes,
but he had moved to the piano, and was in the best spot," Cindy
pouted. "My spot."
"Only
so he could watch me sing!"
Angel’s voice got louder.
"And that means that —"
"That's
enough out of you!" came a voice from the door. "Take that stuff downstairs, and then go back to your rooms
... NOW.” Both girls looked sheepishly
at the temporarily forgotten Julie, and lowered their heads as they tried to
quickly pass Anna. "And you two
should thank God that it was me at this door and not Monsieur Jermond!"
she hissed as they left the room.
Crossing the
room, Anna smiled at Julie. "I'm
sorry, Mrs. Belsom. Those two don't
have an ounce of sense between them, but they are nice girls, and they honestly
wanted to help."
Julie smiled
back. "Call me Julie, please. And I know they did. Actually, under the
right circumstance, I would have found that conversation most ...
enlightening.” She frowned then.
"But right now, it does not help Stella, Mrs. ... Oh I'm sorry, I don't
remember your last name."
"Well
they don't see everything, but I try too." Anna said. "And, you can
call me Anna. I am going over the books now. I just came up to tell you that we
have three girls who will not fit at the dance hall. Monsieur Jermond said you
offered your boarding house."
"Yes,
have someone take them there, and settle them in. I will write a note to Carlotta, although I imagine she is going
to tell me about this the next time I see her." She smiled at Anna.
"But, so what?"
Anna liked
Julie even more then she had at their first meeting, and made a mental note to
tell André that later. "There is
paper and a pen in the bedside table.
Stella loves to write stories."
Julie moved
to the small table and removed a sheet and the pen. Quickly writing a note, she
handed it to Anna. A groan came from
the bed. Quickly turning from Anna,
Julie moved to the bed. Stella groaned
again, but didn't open her eyes. Anna
quickly moved to the door, intent on telling André that Stella had finally
stirred. The clock on the mantle chimed
softly. It was already 9:00.
Julie
quickly replaced the cool cloth, but Stella had stopped moaning.
André walked
through the door, and stood silently watching Julie fussing over Stella. She spoke softly, and the gentle hands on
Stella's forehead moved every once in a while to stroke her hair. Anna had already told him about her comment
about the arrival of the Maison girls at the boarding house, and he silently
admired the small woman sitting on the edge of the bed. Setting the tray of broth he had been
holding on the vanity table, he put his hand on her shoulder. "I hear she moved."
Julie looked
up at him, her face tired but soft.
"Yes, but she is out again.
It's probably better that way."
She got up to change the cloth.
"Here,
let me," he said, taking the cloth from her hand. "Should we try the broth?"
"Yes,
she needs strength to get through this," Julie answered. Andre moved to the other side of the bed
with the cloth, as Julie managed to force a few spoonfuls of broth through
Stella's swollen lips. They worked
silently as the clock ticked away.
Around
midnight, Stella stirred again. Julie
had fallen asleep, her head lying on her arms on the mattress, under a quilt
André had softly draped across her shoulders.
André was still using the cloth on Stella's head, when her eyes opened
and she groaned. Julie's head shot up
and she immediately checked the bandages and smiled into the groggy blue eyes
of Stella. Stella's eyes slid from
Julie to Andre, her stitched hand closed softly around his, causing her to moan
again. She tried to speak, but the
effort was lost, and her eyes closed again.
But this time, she was asleep.
André was
used up. Releasing Stella's hand, he
laid his head in his hands, and sat that way, motionless.
"Are
you alright?" Julie whispered.
André's hands
rubbed his eyes, one hand slid down his face to cover his mouth. His eyes looked at Julie with an expression
that bordered on grief. He nodded. His eyes closed.
"Why
did you mention that Stella could have been Stewart’s sister?" Julie
asked.
André opened
his eyes in astonishment. "Mon
Dieu, you are perceptive!"
"Well,
most men would have said daughter, I think," Julie said. "You don't have to tell me, André. I think I can guess."
André looked
into the clear green eyes and knew somehow that he could trust her with the
truth. Taking a breath, he decided to
tell her the story of his sister Adele.
Chapter 1 ... André
Chapter 2 ... Julie
Chapter 3 ... Clyde
Chapter 4 ... The Welcoming Party
Chapter 5 ... Sunrise
Chapter 6 ... Tabletop
Chapter 7 ... The Race
Chapter 8 ... Missed Lunch
Chapter 9 ... Something To Chew On
Chapter 10 .. Back to Business
Chapter 11 .. House Work
Chapter 12 .. Idyllicus Interruptus
*Chapter 13 .. House Repair
Chapter 14 .. Day’s End
Chapter 15 .. TBA
Chapter 16 .. TBA
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