Read Online Gathering String by Mimi Johnson - Free Book Online Page B

She was shocked by the accident, and he was surprised at her concern. Usually loath to have her jammed schedule upended, she’d even offered to fly out to help him home. But he’d told her to stay in D.C., insisting he’d be fine, that he still planned to work on the story. He could think of nothing less comforting than Judith marching around asking questions and threatening lawsuits.
    After their release, they threw away the bags with the wet, bloody clothing of the day before, and wore hospital scrubs and muddy shoes to rent a car and shop at Wal-Mart. It was an odd experience, shuffling through the aisles, finding clothes and personal items and a couple duffle bags. Sam’s beefy lip was bad enough, but Tess’s face was a swollen mess, the purplish-red bruise spreading from above her eye all the way to her chin. With her slight limp and his careful, stiff movements, people turned to stare.
    When they arrived at the Sheraton with their Wal-Mart sacks, the young woman at the front desk gave them a quick, guarded look and explained, “Yes, Mr. Waterman, the Tribune did make a reservation. But check-in isn’t until 3 p.m.”
    “You’re kidding me, right? Obviously we need an early check-in.” Sam’s mouth pulled down sternly, opening his lip.
    She stared intently into the computer screen as he dabbed at the gash with a stained tissue. “The young lady who called mentioned something about an accident. But you must understand that we’ve been booked solid with so many people displaced by the flooding. A lot of homes are without electricity and we’ve allowed a huge number of late check-outs …”
    Sam scooted his company American Express a little closer to her hand. “Do you really want two people who look like we do sitting in your lobby? We don’t have any place else to go.” She finally looked at him, and Sam added softly, “Come on, you’ve got a couple of rooms ready, right?”
    She sighed. “Honestly, all we have are two executive suites. Our corporate rate doesn’t apply to them.”
    “My company will pay. Just give us the pass cards.”
    Sam helped Tess carry the bags to her suite. As he was separating out his own things, his cell phone rang, and he frowned against the pain as he pulled it from the pocket in his scrubs. “Waterman.”
    A gruff voice came over the line, “Keith Benedict here. Put my daughter on the phone, please.”
    He turned to Tess, his grin awkward to keep from straining his lip. “It’s your dad.”
    She took it from him, and wandered toward the windows, talking softly. Sam would have left to let her talk in privacy, but he needed the phone back, still planning to do what he could about the story he’d come for. He heard her ask him to FedEx her birth certificate, explaining she had no ID and needed something to show airport security. The old man must have suggested using her passport, but she said it was in her apartment. It wasn’t lost on Sam when she told her father that no one else had a key. But he kept his eyes on the table, appearing to be busy with gathering his things.
    When she clicked the disconnect, he looked up to see her turn slowly. He started toward her, and she put her hands to her face to hide her tears, her cheeks flushing. “It’s so stupid to start this now, when it’s all over.”
    He shook his head, putting an arm around her, drawing her against his good side. “It’s OK. Hell, if my old man was alive I’d call him and bawl like a baby.” He looked down into her battered face. “Toughie, you’re exhausted.” The name brought a tiny, embarrassed smile to her face. “Get some sleep, and I’ll take care of getting you a phone.” She nodded her thanks and handed his back.
    Grabbing a sack with his things, he started for his room across the hall, but she stopped him, saying, “Sam?” With a wry smile she tossed him a package of men’s cotton boxer shorts from her jumble on the table.
    He caught them with a wince and a soft laugh, “Looks