Shaking Off the Dust Page 6

  I reluctantly got up and went down to the kitchen. I found a coffeepot in one of the cabinets and grounds in the freezer. While it brewed, I wandered around searching for the dogs, thinking I could put them out. I decided they must be sleeping in with Shimodo.

  I was pouring coffee when the back door opened and two barking dogs slid into the kitchen, Shimodo right behind them. He wore a sweatshirt and jogging pants, his hair wet with perspiration. He stopped in his tracks.

  “Morning,” I mumbled, taking a sip of coffee.

  “You promised last night that you’d sleep eight hours. I hope that’s not coffee.” His expression bordered on a scowl.

  “Piss off, Shimodo. I’m tired and grumpy and, until I’m on my second cup of coffee, it would be safer for you to stay twenty yards away and not ask impertinent questions.” Okay, I’m a little bitchy in the morning.

  He raised an eyebrow. “My, aren’t you the princess. Not a morning person, are you? Sounds like you need to go back to bed and join us when you’re feeling more yourself.”

  “Apparently, I fooled you into believing this isn’t my normal self. I told you I’d be better left alone. This is what you deserve, me at my most grumpy.” I sighed. “I have a headache. The coffee will help.” At least he should pray it did. I didn’t tell him that.

  “Put down the coffee and come sit over here.” He washed his hands.

  I took another sip, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Please sit. I want to try some pressure points to see if it can help your headache.”

  “You can try the pressure points, but the coffee’s not up for discussion.” I moved to the chair he indicated.

  “Hannah, you heard the cardiologist tell you to avoid stimulants. You are a nurse and know better. You should not be drinking caffeine one day after your heart was racing.” He took the coffee out of my hand and poured it down the sink, ignoring my small shriek. The contents of the coffeepot followed. I lay my head down on the counter top as he filled the teapot and set it to boil.

  “You…are a pain in my ass, Shimodo. Just because you’re handsome and tall doesn’t make me intimidated, or all aflutter. You’re just another doctor ordering me around. And this will be the last time I stay here,” I protested bitterly.

  “Show me where your headache is.” He stood behind me and his breath blew on my neck. “Let me try this.”

  I pointed to the spot in my hair where the surgery scar was and behind my right eye. He rubbed his hands together for a moment, warming them, then laced them over my eyes, pressing gently. He applied pressure to various points on my face, neck and head, and finally on my wrist.

  My eyes drifted shut and my mind wandered to those long, sensual fingers and the other places I’d have liked to feel them. Maybe I was a little aflutter.

  “Any better?” he whispered in my left ear.

  I startled out of my naughty fantasy. He walked over to the kitchen counter and poured hot water in a teacup, lifting the tea bag in and out for a long time. “Any better?”

  “I think it is.” I was tired.

  “Here, drink this tea, then you should go back to bed.”

  “It’s too bright in my bedroom. I can’t figure out how to close the curtains.” I tried not to whine.

  “I can fix that. Let’s go up there and make it dark.” He pulled me out of the chair to go with him. I stumbled from the lethargy.

  “What did you do to me? I feel like a rag doll.”

  “That’s funny. You look like a Goth victim, black vampire tee shirt and black leggings. All you need are some piercings.”

  “I don’t know you well enough to show you those.” I gave an almost hysterical laugh.

  “It’s always intriguing to be with you. I never know what you might say next.” He took my elbow and led me into the overbright bedroom.

  He put the teacup on the bedside table, then went to the far side of the curtains, turning what looked like a light fixture. The curtains closed slowly and the room darkened. He pulled the covers back, patting the spot. “You’ll feel better when you get up again.”

  “It must take meditation to stay as calm as you, Shimodo.” I got back in between the cool sheets. I think I fell asleep the instant my head hit the pillows.

  * * *

  I woke up to my name.

  “Hannah, get up!” Tom shouted into my ear.

  “Wrong ear. Deaf, remember?” I mumbled into the pillow.

  “Regardless, you’re awake. Now go shower and change. I have news.” He walked out then stuck his head through the closed door. “And don’t tell Takeshi I woke you. He forbade me from disturbing you.”

  Twenty minutes later, I had showered and dressed. My hair was still wet, but I decided it wouldn’t get me anywhere to try and impress my two roommates. We weren’t dating, nor would I turn their heads with my looks even if I tried. I was overweight and a health crisis walking.

  Shimodo was tossing a salad in the kitchen and there was fish on a grill.

  “I’m starving.” I sat at the table. “And that smells edible.”

  He nodded. “Still got a headache?”

  “No, all better. Thank you.” I showed a proper admission of gratitude.

  “Believe me, it was all self-serving on my part.” Shimodo smiled. “You were so charming.”

  “What did I miss this morning?” Tom appeared in the chair next to me.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t sleep a little longer.” He spun around the kitchen. “You woke her up, didn’t you, Tom?”

  I nodded.

  “You are such a tattletale,” Tom chided in disgust.

  “I didn’t tell, I simply agreed with his estimation of the situation.” I waggled my finger at him. “You’d have left me asleep if you’d taken the brunt of my grumpiness this morning.”

  Shimodo laughed. “I heard the shower so I started lunch. There’s juice, water or soda, and herbal tea in the fridge. I bought a variety of beverages. Make a list of things you like to eat and drink, and I will be happy to bring them home my next shopping trip.”

  He ladled fish and sautéed green beans into my plate and put salad on the table. I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and put one in front of his plate. He nodded his head.

  I said my silent grace and took a quick look around the table before I dove into the meal. Everything tasted wonderful. The green beans were a perfect texture and the salad tasted high carb. “This is heaven,” I announced around a mouthful of fish.

  “The chef thanks you.” Shimodo did one of his almost bows.

  “You two need to get a room, but not here,” Tom muttered.

  I inhaled my salad and nearly aspirated romaine lettuce into my lungs, “Jealous?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

  “I’m getting tired of being the third wheel here,” Shimodo complained.

  “Sorry, that job’s taken.” Tom frowned.

  I nearly choked to death on my green bean. When I could breathe again, I took a long sip of water and wiped my eyes. “Not another word from either of you until I finish eating.”

  “I still want to know what Tom said the first time you choked. Somehow I doubt it was a dysphasia problem.” Shimodo watched me.

  “You might as well tell us what you’re bursting to talk about.” I folded my arms. “I’m not meant to enjoy this meal.”

  “Yes, you can. Just eat. Ignore him and ignore me. I will now distract Tom from you.” He ate a piece of fish and turned to the chair I’d been talking to, the one Tom sat in. “Tom, I forbid you from bothering Hannah again when she sleeps. She is not your personal walky-talky to me or anyone else. Do you understand?”

  Tom used his symbolic middle finger to touch his friend.

  I laughed. “He’s using this finger.” I thought a visual was worth a thousand words.

  “He’s getting full of himself,” Tom griped.

  I hunched over and grabbed my fork, putting salad in my mouth.

  Shimodo sat back and rolled his eyes. “He must hav
e said something good. You’re stuffing your mouth to keep from talking.”

  I swallowed. “Which was your plan all along.”

  “Clever girl.”

  We finished lunch without another choking episode. I put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher as Shimodo put food away, then we headed into the living room. He grabbed pen and paper like a good Boy Scout.

  I felt like a UN interpreter. Every sentence Tom spoke, I repeated. He seemed to take it in stride and it made Shimodo part of a three-way conversation.

  “I did what you wanted. I went to the crash site and to the hangar where they are piecing together the plane. I talked with all of them. Twenty-three total. I wish I could write down names and places. They agreed to listen because I promised you could help them or contact their families with a message from them. We’ll need to get to Madrid.”

  “Tell us what you do remember,” Shimodo said.

  “Almost all of them are Spanish. Oddly enough I can understand everything they say. Eduardo’s bags were lost, so he is able to be in the luggage area and parts of the airport. He discovered that one of the baggage handlers is accepting suitcases from illegal sources. He seems to think it’s a good lead and can show us the baggage handler. Eduardo’s wife died three years ago and his children are only three and five. He wishes them to live with his sister-in-law in America. He says that a neighbor moved into his home claiming to be his girlfriend. He doesn’t even know her and neither do his children. He wants her gone.”

  My jaw dropped. “It’s amazing how people can take advantage of even the most tragic circumstances.” I stood up and started pacing. “Go on, please.”

  “I told him we’d try to do something as soon as possible. There is a fifteen-year-old boy named Arturo and his sister Mia. Their parents walked right into the light holding hands, but they didn’t follow. They’re afraid.”

  “I’m sorry, Tom. I made you go to them. Did it break your heart to hear their stories?” I walked to him trying to touch his face. I wanted to hug him.

  “Your skin is warm on my face,” he said softly.

  I stepped back to the couch and sat down, face hidden in my palms. Those children lost and left behind. Eduardo desperate to help his children. I hated to cry. I shook my head as the first tear rolled down my cheek. They fell in continuous fat droplets against my fingers.

  Shimodo knelt in front of me, pulling my arms down. He wiped tears off my face, pressing the tissue into my hands. He set next to me, putting his arms around my waist, drawing me closer into his shoulder, and whispered soothing things in my ear. I don’t know what he said, because he spoke in Japanese, but it calmed me. When I reached that shuddering-breath stage with my face swollen and red streaked, he got up and poured us each a glass of cool water.

  “I’m sorry. I have no reason to cry, but it breaks my heart, all those people who already died but still have to suffer. Tom, you’re a fool not to walk into that light.” I took a sip of water.

  “You didn’t, Hannah,” Tom said. “You died in surgery, but you didn’t choose the light.”

  “What are you talking about?” I turned to Tom.

  “You already knew that when the paramedics got to you at the scene of the accident you’d stopped breathing. But later in OR, things happened. It was storming that evening of your accident. In surgery the electricity went out right as I started to evacuate the bleed. When the generator came up, it caused a power surge in the equipment. You got an electrical shock directly into brain tissue. Your heart stopped for over two minutes.”

  My jaw dropped. “I don’t remember hearing about this.”

  “It was a Friday night and Takeshi had come to town for dinner. When I got the call about you, he went to the hospital with me. He even scrubbed in on your surgery. When your heart stopped, he did CPR. You fought to come back. You made a choice, we are your witnesses.” Tom spoke in his clinical, detached voice.

  “I’m the perfect lab rat for you, aren’t I?” I couldn’t keep the weariness from my voice. My expression revealed disappointment that he was merely a doctor interested in a fascinating case.

  “Hannah, I need to know what he’s telling you.” Shimodo reached out to touch me and I stood, moving away from him.

  “We should focus on what’s happening now. We have to get to those people.” Tom had already moved on. He stood there with his arms crossed, then shrugged. “They broke my heart too, Hannah. You are the one who made me go to them. Now we’ve given them hope, that there is a reason they are still here. So we have to do something, or at least we have to try.”

  Shimodo came up behind me, pulling me into him.

  “Tell me what he’s saying, Hannah. He’s told you something that upset you. If I don’t know what it is, I can’t help.” He bent over until he was inhaling my hair.

  I tilted back to look into his face. His mouth and eyes were close to mine, dark and intimate. I blinked back the urge to kiss him. Instead, I buried my head into his chest, ashamed I enjoyed the feel of him.

  I told him what Tom had said about getting to Spain. He gave me a little hug.

  “That wasn’t everything, was it? I wish you felt like you could talk openly to me.”

  I unwound from his hold, nearly throwing myself back on the settee. I needed space from him and my raw feelings. I meant nothing to him, and when he was near me, I kept forgetting that.

  Tom watched as if he was shocked. He shook his head a little and walked up to Shimodo. “He’s different. I don’t know if it’s because of the unique situation, but he’s very protective of you. He was always too involved with his patients for a clinician. It’s why he went into research and teaching.”

  I stared at my hands, not daring to glance up. I didn’t want to repeat what Tom was saying. I could feel Shimodo’s eyes on me. He suspected there was a conversation going on.

  “Now what?” I had my neutral expression back in place when I raised my face. It was time for him to come up with a plan, because I had no idea what to do next.

  “I think it’s time we found someone who can help us. At Tom’s funeral, I saw one of our college buddies who’s with the FBI. Perhaps he can give us entry to someone working on the plane crash investigation. I also have a colleague in Spain, who does similar research to mine. I suggest we go to Louisville this afternoon so I can contact them. You’ll need to pack, in case we go to Spain.” Shimodo paused. “Do you have a passport?”

  I nodded and couldn’t help the stupid grin on my face. “I think you’re overreaching here. As much as I’d love to visit Spain, I doubt we’ll have any luck getting there. And if by some small miracle we do, I doubt we’ll gain access to people who have power to have any effect on those we’re trying to help. I only have a week off and I need my job.”

  “We don’t know until we see what can be accomplished. I’ll drop you home while I try to make some arrangements. Bring all your medications.”

  It felt good to have a plan, even one based on a vague hope rather than any real expectations that we might achieve anything.

  “I like your Goth outfit. Be sure to repack it,” Shimodo teased, touching my arm.

  Chapter Five

  It was almost dark when Shimodo phoned. “Are you ready?”

  “I’ve been ready, neuro boy,” I said dryly, trying not to yawn.

  Alone in my own home, I’d had time to think about everything. I could be his guinea pig. I’d learned to be good at sassy patient. It would pass the time until Tom was dead, buried and actually gone.

  He laughed. “How about we go to dinner before we head out of town?”

  “How long until you get here?”

  “I am here.” A knock came from my front door.

  “Aren’t you too cute for words?”

  “Answer the door and find out.”

  I stopped myself from running to the door. He was there, dressed in blue jeans, a navy sweater and a black leather coat. His Mustang was parked in the drive.

  “I don’t know if you hav
e enough room in that trunk for my luggage.” I gave him a skeptical face.

  “Are you telling me there is a lot of luggage?”

  “A huge carry-on and a hanging bag.”

  “I think we’ll manage. If not, Tom will have to sit on your hanging bag. It shouldn’t do it any damage, but he’ll complain the entire trip about how inconsiderate we are.” He lowered his voice. “You’ll be the one having to listen to him. I hope you brought a coat.”

  “A coat, a jacket, a sweater and a partridge in a pear tree.” I went to my closet and put on my own black leather jacket. Black jeans, sweater and leather jacket. Could I be anymore Goth? What a dork. The fact I looked ten pounds lighter in dark colors was the main determining factor. Being mistaken for Goth was simply a bonus. Now where was my black eyeliner?

  Shimodo managed to get my suitcase in the trunk, as well as the hanging bag. What a man—able to pack a trunk and look good while he did it. I got in the front seat and buckled up as he slid into the driver’s side.

  “You seem pleased with yourself. What miracles have you accomplished?” I asked.

  “Me, I’m always pleased with life.”

  “We have a technical abbreviation for your type. FOS.” I didn’t usually tell the doctors they were full of it, even when they were, but I was excited to be on this little adventure. The biggest reason for that was the man sitting next to me. I was a much bigger fool than I wanted to be.

  “I am familiar with the term and appalled you would say such a thing. What a mouth you have. How have you managed to keep your job?” He tried to appear shocked. It would have worked if he had kept the laughter out of his face.

  “Honestly? I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know either.” Tom suddenly appeared in the backseat.

  I yipped. “Tom, you can’t scare the electrocuted nurse so much.”

  “I’m surprised I can scare you at all.” He tilted his head.

  I scooted sideways, so I could see both of them without craning my neck around. Tom wore a pair of khakis and tan shirt. It was different from what he wore this morning.