Because of the Rain Page 3

  A nurse came, followed by two aides, and explained to them that it was time to move Anna to another examination room. They lifted her onto a gurney and wheeled her down the crowded hallway and into a sterile room a few doors down. Paul followed. Dr. Blair came into the room and quietly explained that they had been so concerned with the treatment of Anna’s neck wound, her shoulder, and the concussion that the rape itself had been the least of their immediate worries. Now they needed to examine her to determine if there was any serious internal damage from the assault. The hospital utilized a rape kit that would test for infection, disease, and existing pregnancy, as well as collect any evidence that might still remain.

  Anna was offered the morning-after pill, which she quickly declined. “I’d really recommend it,” the nurse said. “There are usually no serious side effects if you’re not pregnant, but it will take care of things quickly and easily if by some horrible odds you are.”

  But the whole time the nurse was speaking, Anna was shaking her head vehemently.

  “It really is a precaution we recommend.” The nurse persisted.

  “No,” Paul spoke for Anna, trying to put the possibility out of his mind. “She’s said no. That’s all.”

  The nurse clucked her disapproval, but Dr. Blair seemed to give her a silent sign.

  The doctor turned to Paul and asked if they wanted to report the rape. “You don’t have to make that decision right now, but because of the violent nature of the attack, we strongly recommend that you do report it. Depending on the circumstances, you can always drop the charges later, but the sooner it’s reported, and the more evidence we can collect, the better the chances of finding and prosecuting her attacker.”

  Anna’s eyes went wide. “Prosecute? Do they know who did it?”

  “No,” the doctor admitted. “Hopefully the police are close to finding––”

  “No.” The strength in Anna’s voice encouraged Paul.

  “I don’t want to drag this out,” she said.

  “I understand, and you should take some time to think this through,” Dr. Blair said. “But if you do decide to report it, it’s good to have photos as evidence––of the brutality of the attack. Would you object if we took some pictures…of the bruises and bandages?”

  “No! No pictures! Paul…?” She turned toward him, but the sudden movement caused her to moan in pain.

  He held up a hand to quiet her. He was frankly surprised by her adamant refusal. But he would understood how humiliating this must feel. Anna had always been a very private person.

  He would support her wishes. He turned to Dr. Blair. “No pictures,” he said firmly.

  As Anna lay vulnerable on the hard examination table, memories of her ordeal seeped back into her mind, stinging like alcohol in a raw wound. The doctor aimed a bright light beneath the sheet that draped her legs and Anna saw in her mind the coarse weave of the cloth that had covered her face last night. She felt she might suffocate.

  She despised her nakedness beneath the thin hospital gown and tried to wave Paul out of the room. But he shushed her and stood firmly planted beside the table where she lay. He held her gaze, forcing her to look into his eyes. He smoothed her forehead with gentle hands, and she winced, not in pain but in humiliation. Paul closed her eyes gently with his fingers and let his large warm hands rest lightly on her forehead, covering her eyes with the palm of his hand as though he could take away her self-imposed shame by sparing her his scrutiny. She loved him all the more for the act.

  When the examination was finished, a nurse drew two vials of blood from her arm, explaining that it would be several days before any of the test results would be available. She was given an antibiotic––“to be on the safe side,” the nurse said––then wheeled down the hallway, into an elevator, and on to the private room Paul had requested.

  Paul followed the orderly, hovering over Anna. Dr. Blair informed them he wanted her to stay at least overnight so that her head injury could be monitored closely. “I’ll make rounds late tomorrow morning when I get out of surgery,” Dr. Blair said. “We can decide then about making the trip back to Chicago.

  The nurses came in to check Anna’s vital signs and get her settled in the room. Paul searched her face, and she forced a smile for his sake.

  He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. “I think I’m in the way here,” he said, motioning toward the nurses. “I’m going to step out into the hall for a few minutes. You’ll be all right?”

  Anna nodded, feeling groggy.

  Walking into the hallway, Paul looked both directions down the corridor. A sign on the left pointed to a waiting room. Blindly he followed the arrows. His thoughts churned incomprehensibly. He simply could not grasp everything he'd learned in the past hour. He fought to stay in control. He had to find a place where he could be alone.

  The arrows led him to a large, empty waiting room. Vinyl-covered chairs lined three walls, and a dusty television peered out over the room from its metal shelf in a corner near the ceiling. The TV was tuned to a soap opera, but the volume was turned low so that the actors’ dramatic expressions, without the dialogue, were strangely comical. A row of large windows stretched down one wall of the room. The opposite wall was rough hewn brick, empty of chairs or any decoration save plastic lettering that spelled out William C. Dreiling Memorial Wing. Paul gazed aimlessly out the windows onto the parking lot below.

  His mind reeled as he realized how close he'd been to Anna last night while she lay bleeding and helpless in that alley. A horrible knowledge came to him: while he'd sat in a restaurant sipping coffee, lounging in comfort, Anna had been suffering the most brutal violation imaginable. She'd needed him as never before, and he had failed her. In fact, he’d been angry with her because he thought she was late. He should have known better. It wasn’t like Anna to be late. He'd told the police officer that, but the man had brushed him off. “But I should have insisted,” Paul berated himself. “I should have known something was wrong. I should have known!”

  A memory, a fragment of a conversation he’d had with Anna years before, came to Paul. He hadn’t thought of it since the day it had occurred many years ago. At the time, it was of no consequence. Now it haunted him. When he and Anna were dating, a string of rapes had plagued the neighborhood where Anna was teaching school. She'd become frightened and fearful of walking to school alone. Paul had teased her and discounted her fears, but he did agree to walk her to and from work each day, and he'd bragged overconfidently that nothing could happen to her as long as she had him to protect her. Now he felt sick at his cocky boasting. Where had he been last night? Where had he been the one time she desperately needed his protection? What kind of a man was he?

  He'd never felt so powerless or so full of rage as he did at this moment. His head felt as though it would explode. He paced back and forth between the windows and the empty brick wall across the room. Fury rose in waves within him, until abruptly, he turned and pounded his fists on the brick wall, beating his knuckles against the rough surface until they bled. His mouth opened in a howl of anguish, but no sound came forth. Finally spent, he sunk into the cold upholstery of a waiting room chair and put his head in his hands.

  He sat that way until he felt blood from his scraped fingers trickle slowly toward his wrists. The warm wetness startled him, and he held his hands in front of his face as though he couldn’t remember how the wounds had come to be there. He rose slowly, holding his hands aloft like a freshly scrubbed surgeon, taking care not to get blood on his clothes. He found a rest room and washed his hands, holding them under the cool running water for several minutes. Then blotting the wounds with paper towels, he walked to the nurse’s station and, embarrassed, asked for a few bandages.

  “Good grief! What did you do?” asked a young nurse, vigorously chewing a wad of gum. She didn’t look a day over sixteen.

  “It’s nothing,” Paul told her. “I’m okay. I just need a couple of Band-Aids, please.”

  “Don’t you wan
t to put something on that? Looks pretty nasty.”

  Paul waved her away. “No, no. It’s all right. Just Band-Aids. Please.”

  Reluctantly the nurse handed him a stack of large sterile bandages, and he went back to the restroom and applied them clumsily to each bleeding knuckle.

  When he got back to Anna’s room, she was sleeping. A large uncomfortable-looking lounge chair sat between the window and Anna’s bed. Paul eased himself into the chair’s awkward embrace and tried to doze off.

  It was no use. Too many thoughts fought for his attention. He sat up and, perching on the edge of the chair, watched his wife sleep. He let his gaze travel from her tousled head, past the bandages that swathed her neck, down to her hands that lay upon the white sheets. His eyes rested on the simple diamond that she wore on her left hand. Anna’s hands were delicate and expressive, her nails always carefully manicured. How he loved those hands. And how privileged he felt that this woman wore his wedding ring. Oh, Anna. How could anyone have done this to you? His Anna, who was only sweetness and light, who would never have hurt anyone. How could he have let this happen? How? He leaned his head against the cold metal rail of her bed and wept silently.

  Chapter 5

  Anna had been given a sedative and slept most of the afternoon. Around three o’clock Paul went to the hospital’s small cafeteria and bought a cup of coffee and a Danish. It was the first thing he had eaten since the appetizer he’d nibbled on at Italia the night before. He really wasn’t hungry, but he knew he needed to keep up his strength.

  He also needed to call his daughters. He would give anything—absolutely anything—if he could just pretend this never happened. But it had happened, and Kara and Kassi would never forgive him if he didn’t call them today.

  He found a relatively quiet hallway and dialed Kara’s number. Their older daughter had an apartment in Urbana, but she was hard to catch. She was studying veterinary medicine and worked every spare hour at an animal clinic near the university, and rarely had her phone turned on. He let it ring a dozen times, counting each unanswered burr aloud. When it finally went to voice mail, he left a terse message, then fished in his wallet for the number at the clinic.

  Kara herself answered on the second ring, her voice soft and cheerful. He hated that he was about to break her heart. “Meadowbrook Animal Clinic. This is Kara. May I help you?”

  His little girl sounded so grown up, so professional. He could almost see her now, her white blond hair pulled into a ponytail, her blue eyes bright and inquisitive, a white lab coat over faded jeans.

  “Hi, Kara.” He tried to warn her by the tone of his greeting that this wasn’t a casual call.

  “Dad?” A pause. “Is everything okay? I thought you were in Florida.”

  “We are, honey. We’ve had…some problems. Your mom is in the hospital.”

  “Oh, Dad! What happened?”

  “Sit down, Kara.” He could hear her start to cry, and he hurried to finish his story. “Honey, Mom was assaulted last night. She’s going to be okay but she was hurt pretty badly. The guy…um, the guy raped her and cut her throat…” He broke down, saying these terrible words out loud. But Kara’s gasp and her bitter sobs sobered him, and he went on, suddenly strong for his daughter’s sake.

  “The cut isn’t deep, honey. It’s not as bad as it sounds.” He winced. Why had he told her about the knife wound? It would only worry her more. He hurried on. “Kara, Mom’s going to be okay. Really. And she’s taking it very well. She’s…she’s holding up very well,” he repeated. “But, honey, Mom’s going to need our help.” He told his daughter the details he knew, assuring her with each part of the story that Anna would recover, that she was all right.

  Kara voiced a new thought. “Dad, does Kassi know?”

  “No, honey. I haven’t called her yet.”

  Kara’s tears started afresh. “Poor Kassi. She’ll take this so hard.”

  Kara was right. Kassi was the tenderhearted one. Kara was stubborn and independent and as strong as they came. She’d be fine. But he was worried about his younger daughter. Kassi was at Illinois State in Bloomington. Her first year away from home had been tough, and she'd almost decided not to go back after Christmas break. But reason had won out, and second semester was going much more smoothly for her. Now he had to give her this awful news.

  “Dad, please let me tell her,” Kara pleaded now. “I’ll drive up tonight and bring her back to my apartment. We could fly to Orlando first thing in the morning, if I can get reservations that quickly.”

  “No, don’t do that, Kara. I really think we’ll come home sometime tomorrow. They just want to keep Mom overnight as a precaution. The doctor is supposed to see her late tomorrow morning, and I guess we’ll know for sure then. But I would appreciate it if you would tell Kassi. She’ll need someone with her. Why don’t you girls stay at your place, and I’ll call you there as soon as I know something.”

  “Well, okay. Are you sure you don’t want us to come?”

  “I’m sure, but thanks for offering, honey.” He gave her Anna’s room number at the hospital and hung up, grateful that task was over, and thankful Kassi wouldn’t have to be alone when she heard the news. How it would have comforted him to wrap his daughters in his arms right now.

  Feeling somewhat relieved, he walked back down to Anna’s room and found her sitting up in bed trying to sip ice water from a straw. He went to her side and held the glass for her. Above the bandages she gave him a crooked smile, and he felt his spirits lift for the first time since last night.

  She took one last sip and motioned that she’d had enough. Paul set the glass on her bedside tray and took Anna’s hands in his.

  “I called Kara.”

  “Oh, Paul. Did you have to?”

  “Anna, you know I did.”

  She sighed. “I know. But… I wish the girls didn’t have to deal with this.”

  “That wouldn’t be fair.”

  She nodded in resigned agreement. When he tightened his grasp on her hands, she looked down and for the first time noticed the bandages on his knuckles.

  “Paul! What did you do to your hand? Both of them! What happened, honey?”

  He pulled his hands away and mumbled, “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine.” How like Anna to lie there, beaten within an inch of her life, and worry about his little scrapes. Love for her filled his heart and threatened to spill over in tears. He quickly changed the subject.

  “Kara is going to drive up and get Kassi and let her know what’s going on. They’ll stay at Kara’s tonight.” He paused and then said tenderly, “Anna, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think we need to report this to the police. That guy is still out there somewhere…” He let his voice trail off and waited for her response. She was silent.

  Gently he posed the question. “What do you remember about it, honey? I know this isn’t easy for you, but it’s important. Do you know what he looked like?”

  “Paul, I don’t remember hardly anything. I know he”— she started crying—”I know he raped me. Oh, Paul, he raped me. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Anna, forgive you for what?” He was incredulous.

  “It was so stupid of me to go out that way. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have known better. I should have fought harder.”

  “Anna, how could you know?” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look at him. “This was not your fault, Anna. I don’t want to hear you talk like that again.” He was stern and truly angry with her for being so irrational. It emboldened him to ask the hard questions. “Tell me what you do remember. What did he look like?”

  She closed her eyes and cringed, but he could tell she was working to remember, if only to help them find this monster.

  “I remember he put something over my head…some kind of bag or… or cloth. I never saw his face, Paul. I never saw him…” She sounded perplexed at the realization. “But I remember his voice. He… he had an accent. Europea
n…like French, or something, I think. Yes, he called me mademoiselle. I remember that.” She spoke quickly now as the memories came back to her in a rush.

  “I told him to take my money, and he… he said it wasn’t money he was after. I tried to fight him, Paul. Honest, I did try to fight him. But then he… he cut me. He had a knife…oh, he had a knife …” Fighting tears, she put her free hand to her neck almost involuntarily. Her voice trailed off, and it was as though she were speaking to herself now.

  “Strange, it… it really didn’t hurt. Not then. But I could feel the blood, and I thought he was going to kill me. Oh, Paul… I thought… I thought I was going to die. After he …” She began to weep, her fist to her mouth. “After he was done, he shoved me, and… I… I don’t remember anything else until the ambulance. Oh. I think he was tall. I remember his voice was way above me. I don’t know just how tall, but taller than you, I think.” She lurched forward, begging him. “Paul, do we have to report this? I don’t want everybody to have to know this happened. I just want to go home. I want to forget about it. Please, Paul?” Her voice was pleading.

  “Anna, of course I won’t make you report it. But I don’t think it’s right to just forget it. Think of Kara and Kassi. If this had happened in Chicago, wouldn’t you want that guy locked away?” He knew he'd hit a soft spot. He felt guilty coercing her, but he thought the situation warranted it. And he wanted that lousy excuse for a human being put away forever.

  Reluctantly Anna agreed, and before she could change her mind, Paul asked the hospital to notify the police.

  They were eating supper in Anna’s room when an officer knocked at the door. He quickly put Anna at ease with his fatherly manner and gently coaxed her to tell him the details of her assault.

  Strange. This time yesterday, Anna had been happily shopping, and Paul had just been seated in the restaurant, eagerly waiting to tell his wife about his meetings and to find out what she'd done with her day. Now he would do anything to turn back the clock.