As it turned out, ditching Ricky's dealers wasn't as easy as it had first appeared, and when things got hot in Lubbock somebody was forced to make some quick decisions...

Bill:  You want to go home?

I was sitting in the living room...

Deb:  I am home.

Bill:  I meant Minnesota, where the boys are.

Deb:  Sick movie.  No, why?

Bill:  You don't understand.  You want to go home to Minnesota.

Deb:  I get the feeling this isn't a question.

Bill:  Smart girl when ya wanna be.

That was when he told me that The Corner had been burned flat.  No
emotion, just everything we had put nearly a year of our lives into was 
gone, like that.  Bill was more accustomed to catastrophic changes than
I was, and he had already made plans.  We took the insurance money, plus
the usual unidentified funds of Bill's...and bought a hobby farm three
miles from where my sons were living in my old house.  I had the feeling
it was deliberate.

For the first week or so I was confused and disoriented.  I spent a great
deal of time picking things up in the front room and lugging them to the
kitchen and then grabbing them in the kitchen and carting them back to the
living room.

Bill:  What the hell you doin'?

Deb: Unpacking.

Bill:  Walkin' around in circles, more like.  I toldja, there was no other 
way, we had ta sell out.

Deb:  I know that...but it was all so fast.  I'm all screwed up.  Sorry,
Bill.

Bill:  Nothin' t'be sorry for, girl.  

He rubbed my head absently as he wandered through to the kitchen, in
search of a box of underwear.  For half an hour or so I continued moving
boxes aimlessly, gradually forgetting that Bill was in the house.

I wasn't used to being alone with Bill anymore.  We'd had Elmore for so
long, and Jade and Ryan had been in and out that it reminded me of being
parents more than anything else.  I kept waiting to hear Elmore blowing
through, or Ryan rummaging in the kitchen in search of the place I had
hidden the Guinness.  The silence, as the old saying went, was deafening.

Now...the home Bill had chosen for us was an old one and it had its
idiosyncrasies.  One of the most annoying of these was a tendency of the
home's builder to narrow doorways. I kept clipping my elbow on one in
particular as I lugged boxes through it.  Pretty soon I was bruised and
bleeding and getting pissed off.  Finally, in passing through to the
master bath, I hung myaelf up on a nailhead and tore open my arm.  That
was the last straw.  I slammed the box of towels down and headed for the
garage.  Bill had never struck me as the sort of man to use tools, but if
he had any they would be in the garage until he found a better place for
them. I didn't see him out there, but I did spot a five pound sledge-
hammer and was convinced that would be just the ticket.  I grabbed it and
headed for the house.

Bill:  What the hell ya think you're gonna do with that?

Deb:  With what?

Bill:  None of that ahit, baby, you're walkin' around with a sledgehammer
lookin' like you're plannin' t'take care of some business.

Deb: Gonna knock out some doorframes.

Bill took the hammer from me and leaned it against the wall behind him,
which was as good as trotting back to the garage with it because I would 
never get hold of it again.  He folded his big arms across his chest and
rocked back on one hip and stared me down from thst position.  I dropped 
my eyes, and noticed that I was shuffling my feet guiltily.  I couldn't 
seem to stop.

Bill:  Whatsa matter, girl?

Deb:  I know you said we had to leave...but I... miss the house.

Bill:  Baby...

Deb:  You bought it for me.  I saw those guys, Bill, I know...but you 
bought me that house and they took it away from me.  I'm glad to be close
to the boys again...but I miss my house.

Bill looked vaguely troubled and I knew I had said too much.  I moved to
backpedal quickly, before he decided I was getting girly again and headed
for the hills.

Deb:  I'll be okay once I settle down.  I juat get all goofy when things
change too fast.

Bill:  Gonna beat up the walls?

Deb:  No...I'm fine now.  I might try to relax a little...you can go about
your business.

Bill gave me another one of those vaguely troubled looks...I waved him
away before I could say any more.  The minute I sent him toddling I was
troubled by my actions.  In retrospect, he had seemed every bit as upset as
I had been.  And that bothered me even more, because Bill never let me
know if something was bothering him.

Finally I was unable to ignore this aspect anymore and I went looking for
him.  I found him in the barn, putting out food for the cats.

Deb:  Bill?

Bill:  Not a goddamn word.

Deb:  Say what?

Bill:  I'm feedin' these damn cats and I don't wanna hear a goddamn word.

Deb:  Is something bothering you?

Bill:  Why d'ya ask?

Deb:  You're feeding the cats.

Bill:  Damn.

Deb:  Well...is there?

Bill:  Yeah...but I don't know what.

Deb:  So, call someone...find out.

Bill:  Might just do that...here.  Take care of y'goddamn animals.

He nailed me in the belly with a bag of cat food and strode away...

Ryan was, as always, vigilant.  He had nearly lived at the hospital through the most recent
Corner debacle, coming home only to catch a few hours’ sleep, if at all.  The chair in the
small room on the surgery floor that Jade now inhabited was as familiar to him as his
right hand.  There were a few books stacked on the floor beside the chair, several
newspapers, and a slight blanket that a nurse had given him one night when she came
upon him sleeping in the chair, book still open and a hand covering Jade’s own.  It was
this position he had taken up for the night when the cell phone in his pocket chirped and
he quickly dug it out of his pocket to answer it.  As he answered the phone in a hushed
tone, he looked upon Jade in the bed, hoping the noise hadn’t disturbed her, and it hadn’t.

Ryan:  Gaerity.

Bill:  Ryan.  Ya been to the house lately?

Bill’s tone was even, sober.  Ryan’s warning system kicked in.  

Ryan:  Not in... two days, I would think.  

Bill:  There’s been a problem, boy.  We had to leave.

More warning lights.  He got to his feet, uneasy.

Ryan:  Leave?  How soon will you return?

Bill:  We aren’t.  

After glancing back at Jade, he stepped outside into the hall, closed the door behind him. 
Something was up, and there was no need to trouble her if she woke up in the middle of a
conversation.

Ryan:  Explain.

Bill:  Things were gettin’ hot at the Corner.  It was in our best interest to leave.  The
house is yours, if ya want it.  You and the punkin there would have enough room.  Just so
ya let Elmore keep a room.

Ryan started down the hall on autopilot, wanting privacy, although if he knew William
he’d not get too much information from him over the phone, even if it *was* a safe line.

Ryan:  This is all very... sudden.  

Bill:  Sorry, man.  We had to go.  No time to warn ya.  

Ryan gripped the phone harder than needed.  A sinking sensation flooded over him, and
he knew he was losing a vital strength in William and Deb.  

Ryan:  Give me an address, a phone number, something...

Bill gave him the information.  His voice dropped an octave.

Bill:  How’s your girl doin?

He sighed, ran his hand through his short, wild hair, smiling.

Ryan:  The wee doctor moved her to the surgery floor, away from most of those vile
machines.  She wakes for an hour or two.  They let her eat food.  Her voice is little more
than a whisper, but she speaks to me.  May be a week or two yet before they are even
considering letting her leave. 

Bill:  Send her some hugs, huh?  

Ryan:  Aye.  Christ Jesus... it’ll be quiet around here without ye.

Bill:  Watch it, ya mick.

Ryan could hear the smile on the man’s face.  They tossed off a few more insults and
hung up.  He felt strange, as if his arm had been cut off.  He pocketed the phone and
walked back down the hall to Jade’s room.

His sense of nervousness grew.  He pushed open the door, expecting to find something
out of the ordinary, but it was as he left it.  Quiet, with only the sound of the IV pump
and his own respiration.  He returned to the seat and opened his book again.

Ryan:  Fuck.

Inside the pages of Edna O’Brien rested the photograph of he and Jade that had
disappeared from his workbench a week and a half before.  The paper had been torn, and
the image of Jade was missing from it.  

Ryan stared at the page, his decision solidifying in his mind as he closed the book, slid
the mutilated photo into his pocket with the phone.   He stood, bent over Jade’s sleeping
form.

Ryan:  Wee one... aingeal... 

She never awoke as he removed the scant tubes and wires, the oxygen tubes from her
nose, wrapped the blankets around her, lifted her from the bed, held her thin form close
to his chest.  Out the door and into the hallway, his stride eating up the floor, not
knowing if he was being watched, not caring at all if he was.  He would not sit idle, but
he could not protect her and find them himself.  He had to keep her safe.

Nurse:  Sir... Sir!  Where are you going?  

The voice came from down the hall, one of the young nurses that knew him well, and
therefore knew the woman in his arms.  He said nothing, knowing that the action he was
taking was irregular, was in most cases wrong for Jade’s health.  Something in his brain
informed him that she would be fine if he acted quickly.  He knew she was strong.  If he
were there, she would be as well.

Nurse:  Sir!  You can’t take her out of here!

He picked up the pace, leaving through the first exit he found.  A doctor shouted behind
him, but he did not stop until he found the truck.  Ryan swiftly loaded her inside and
threw the vehicle into gear.

Jade:  Ryan...?

Her voice was quiet, distant.  It originated in sleep.

Ryan:  Go back to sleep, lass.  You’re with me.  Go on, now...

He brushed the stray hairs from her face.  She had already fallen back to sleep. 

TO BE CONTINUED....

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