CHAPTER FORTY-TWO.

A young doctor entered the second floor nurses' station to make patient reviews. There was something familiar about a purse lying on the counter, although he didn't pay much attention to it as he moved it aside to make room for a chart. When something slid from the bag onto the table, he reached over and picked it up.

"Iris, where'd this blue bag come from?" He set the chart aside and gaped at the unforgettable picture on the notebook.

The nurse poked her head around the corner. "Oh that. That's the girl's in two-fourteen. Some elderly man dropped it off, said it was left in his car when he brought her in. Poor girl had a bad fall. Doctor? Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure." He stuffed the notebook back into the purse, and then turned up the corridor.

A minute later, he entered two-fourteen and went to Emily's side. He lowered the bed-rail then glanced over at Paul. "How's she doing?"

Paul pulled himself from the chair. "From what I've been told, she's going to make it."

The doctor checked her pupils, felt her pulse, and listened to her heart, then set the stethoscope aside, and lifted the railing. "I'm Doctor Michael Foster. I met Emily on the train a year or so back. Say, she mentioned something about wanting to find an old friend of her mother's. Was that you?"

Paul looked at Emily, then back to the doctor. "Yes, it was me. She was looking for me. I'm Samuel Dimsmoore, that friend of her mother's."

"Wow. Samuel Dimsmoore. You have no idea how many times I wished I'd asked her what your name was. I had no way of contacting her to make sure she found you okay."

You would've needed my uncle's Post Office box number because I haven't lived in San Francisco for fourteen years. Thank God Emily had his address, although she had no way of knowing I didn't live here in town."

"But then you did find her."

"That's right. She's... well, she was working as a nanny."

Michael looked down at her bandaged head. "How did she fall?"

"Let me just say that the accident is under investigation. Now, what led up to the fall I don't know, except that early this morning she came barreling out of the woods, jumped on her horse and took off like a scared rabbit. Not long after, I saw a man come from the same area and run up to the boss's quarters. I thought about it a little too long though, and by the time I got to the house, she was lying at the bottom of the steps."

"Oh, dear." Michael stood, shaking his head. "So this is the reason for the guard outside the door."

Samuel nodded. "I didn't see it happen, but it didn't look good, him standing there staring down at her."

"Him?"

"Yes, Donald Schillings. That was her boss."

"Mm, Schillings, that name does sound familiar. Well... this is just unbelievable."

"I agree. If only I..."

Michael looked across the bed to where Samuel was fighting tears. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

Samuel stepped back, took a seat, and Michael moved around to the other side of the bed.

"I guess the best place for me to start is when I received a letter from Emily a while back asking me to meet her at a place called Mack's House of Food. She gave three dates just in case I didn't make the first two."

"But you did eventually meet her at the restaurant?"

"No, she never showed up. I didn't get the letter soon enough to meet her the first time. But the minute I got it, I went over and tried my best to find out where she was."

"But then you found her, right?"

"Eventually. Everything pointed to one waitress, although she wouldn't admit to knowing a thing. Then when Emily didn't show up on that second date, I confronted the waitresses again, nothing. When she didn't show on the third date, I finally managed to pry it out of the woman that she had taken her to a... well... to a brothel."

Michael looked aghast. "You can't be serious."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Although she didn't stay long."

"You say she was a nanny."

"Yes, she left the brothel to become a nanny. I talked the waitress into confessing she knew where she was. Well... I didn't actually talk her into it. I bugged her until she got so frustrated with me that she let it slip." Samuel sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Anyway, I showed up as she was leaving work one afternoon with bribe money I got from selling my pickup. I wanted to know where the brothel was. When she told me Emily had moved to Schillings, I gave her the money. But as the bus was coming up the street, the waitress gave me payback for bullying her. I'll admit I was a little tough on her. But she asked for it."

"And the payback was..."

"I can't remember the exact words she used, but it was something like, well if you think you're so tough, how about this, and then she went on to say that Emily called the restaurant while I was sitting there waiting for her, but after she described me to her, she said she didn't want to meet me."

"And that was because of..."

"Because of my color."

"That doesn't sound like the person I met on the train."

"Hey, I know what you mean. At first I didn't want to believe the waitress myself, but..." Samuel tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, shaking his head. "You have to have known her grandfather to understand. And by the look on Emily's face when I showed up at Schillings, and by the way she reacted toward me, it was obvious the old guy had enormous influence on her."

"I'm a little confused. You went over and saw her, left her there, and then returned at some point and found her at the bottom of the stairs?"

"No, I went there and stayed, knowing if I needed to, I'd drag her away and reap the consequences later. After what the waitress told me, I couldn't just come out and tell her who I was and take the chance of her barring me from the place, and from her life. I wanted to give her a chance to have a new perspective, mainly on whatever values her grandfather thrust on her."

Samuel sat for a few moments staring at Emily. "The children and I got along like gold, but Emily and I had our moments. Me with my impatience, and her with, well, sometimes she had an attitude. Although... I have to admit, I probably came across as irritated with her most of the time, brash may be a better word. But that was only because I thought she was being reckless. I almost told her I was Samuel a number of times, but that didn't pan out. I know she was expecting someone a lot whiter than I am. Anyway... you must understand my dilemma."

"Yes, I guess I do. And that was very nice of you to take such interest in her."

"Well, as I said, her mother and I were friends. And that's something I don't take lightly."

"So then... how were you able to set yourself up at Schillings?"

"Luckily I had contact with a man who was able to recommend me for hire as a stableman. At the time, I thought Schillings had rescued Emily from the Palace. He was very friendly to me, but still I was concerned and suspicious about his ties with the brothel. That, and a few other matters. You know, I talked to one of the housekeepers... Gabriel was her name. She zipped her mouth about her boss, and told me she didn't know anything about Emily except that she was always getting into one fix or another."

"Now that doesn't sound like her, either."

"I'm beginning to think that it does," Samuel corrected him. "I have a feeling she's used to living on the edge. Finding herself at the Palace, and then at Donald Schillings is proof of that. You know, sometimes when a person finds their life in ruins, it becomes like a vicious circle they can't get out of. I think that's what happened to her. She was probably acting on instinct to protect herself, just trying to get through each day."

Michael considered for a moment. "Yes, you're probably right about that."

Footsteps came up the hallway, and the men turned as Doctor Barnes walked in.

"Doctor Foster. Hello," the older doctor said, clearly surprised to see him. He glanced at Samuel, then back to Michael. "You two know each other?"

"Not until I came to see Emily."

"So you're a friend of Emily's?"

"We spent a night together on the train." Michael's face turned red. "Now that didn't sound right. Let me explain."

Doctor Barnes let the rail down and smiled at Michael. "There's no need to explain. I know you well enough that none is needed. It's nice to know you're here to check on her."

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE.

Samuel slept in the easy chair once again, awakened the next morning when Emily came to and began to moan and stir about. He jumped from his seat and rushed across the room. When she saw him coming, she pulled the covers up and sank into her pillow.

He stood back. "Listen, Emily, I'm here as a friend. Really, I'm your friend." When she relaxed, he moved forward.

"Do you recognize me?"

She nodded.

He reached for the call button, and then filled a glass with water. "Here, have some of this." He slid his hand behind her head and lifted. She took a couple of sips, then sank back onto her pillow and drifted off.

Later that day, Doctor Barnes appeared in the doorway, motioning Samuel into the corridor.

"Well. I've got some news."

"Is it Emily? Is something wrong?"

"She's fine. It's Donald Schillings. Someone brought attempted murder charges against him."

Samuel looked in through the doorway. "Oh, boy. And to think I allowed her to stay there with him."

"Now don't beat yourself up. From what I hear, he's fooled a lot of people."

"Trust me, Doctor, I knew he was no saint. So...what happened anyway?"

"Well, supposedly, Schillings arranged for a couple of his men to kill a private detective. Somehow, the detective turned things around and shot both men. He didn't kill them, but one of them is in jail with Schillings, and the other's here in the hospital. Of course Schillings denies everything, says it was a setup. At any rate, it looks as if they'll be able to keep him long enough to search his house."

Emily awoke again wrestling her way out of a fog with images and flashes of pounding hoofs, barking dogs, a fight with Donald Schillings, and... Paul's gentle voice. She felt him at her bedside and turned to the man she'd considered her enemy for the last few months.

"Paul," she said hoarsely.

He flung a magazine aside, jumped to his feet and leaned against the railing. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I've been caught in a stampede. Other than that, my mouth is dry as a bone. Could you please help me with some water? Maybe that'll get me out of this stupor."

When she had satisfied her thirst, he refilled the tumbler, set it on the stand, and then took a seat. She watched him curiously, realizing he seemed genuinely relieved to see that she was awake. "You've been here all along, haven't you? How long has it been, anyway?"

"I've been here for the most part, and this is your fifth day. Do you remember falling?"

"No."

"Your arm is broken."

She looked down at her cast. "I thought it might be."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Sort of." Suddenly she remembered Maria coming to her room after Donald hit her. "The children. Are they okay? Have you gone back to check on them?"

"No. There was no need. Schillings is in jail, and Maria and Nathan aren't there any longer."

"What?" She made a move to get up. "I have to go to them."

"Wait a minute, Emily, listen. They're in good hands."

She dropped back to the pillow. "You know where they are?"

"Not exactly. But I'm told they're staying with a nurse."

"Mm, that's good."

Exhaustion took over, and she closed her eyes, not sure why, but glad Paul was with her. There was something peaceful having him here.

Each time she woke, he was there to reassure her. It was difficult to concentrate through the fuzz, but she sensed when it was night, or daylight. One day, she awoke feeling almost normal. She looked over and saw that, once again, he was sitting beside the bed. She closed her eyes, enjoying the moment, thinking about many things.

Suddenly it occurred to her that she was free of Donald Schillings. It gave her such a rush of joy she wanted to leap from the bed and walk outside into the fresh air.

"So, they finally arrested Donald, huh?

"Oh, Emily, you're awake." Samuel sat up, putting a magazine aside. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, can't you tell? For the first time I can actually see straight. Think, too. So, it is true? Donald is in jail?"

"Yes. Yes he is."

"Did they find the body... or I guess I should say, the bodies?"

"What bodies?" Samuel reached for the rail, pulling himself closer.