Vintage Woman

Chapter 3

Chapter 3Cory

“What? I get that you had to drive her to the hospital but why go back for her, too? You’ve got to be crazy!” Sandra’s voice faded in and out because of bad reception but her irritation still came through clearly.

“Don’t worry, sis, I’ll still pick Cheyenne up. And Amelia, too, if you want.”

“Nah, she can ride in the car with me. But that’s not the point and you know it.”

So what is the point then? Except Cory already knew what her sister would answer, namely that she’d been burnt plenty of times over the years helping what her mom called lame ducks, or in German, lahme enten. At first it had been animals, the mangy dog nobody wanted, the stray cat who got one leg chopped off by the neighbors’ riding mower, the occasional bird or squirrel fallen out of its nest. While it had been annoying to own the dog who didn’t think twice about stealing every single egg her grandma’s five chickens laid and a cat that hissed and spat at everyone, the real problems didn’t start until she gravitated toward attracting damaged human beings.

She’d known every time there would be trouble, of course, or at least she’d thought she had anticipated it well enough and protected herself accordingly, but still, Cory had been lied to, stolen from, and cheated on, not just by one but by several women. Beat up even one time, not by the woman, but by the woman’s husband. The split lip had healed and the bruises faded, but the middle finger on her right hand would forever stay crooked, a visible reminder of what she shouldn’t be doing.

“You still there?”

“Yup. I’ll text you when I’m on my way, okay? Anyway, how did Amelia and Cheyenne do this morning?”

She knew already, because Amelia had sent her a picture of Cheyenne sporting her white ribbon. But Sandra speculating about why it had been a fourth place versus the third or second they’d hoped for occupied several minutes. By the time Sandra hung up, Cory was already halfway down Blanco Road, and when she got into the lane for the turn toward the hospital, it was without any hesitation. Realizing she had no idea how to find the woman, Cory parked her truck and headed over to the ER entrance, only to find her very own Jane Doe sitting in a wheelchair outside the entrance.

“If you could just bring your car around?” The nurse standing next to the woman gave her a little wave as if to shoo her off.

Cory was about to protest when she caught the woman giving her a beseeching—while at the same time hopeful—look, and she clamped her mouth shut again. They, or the woman herself, had washed her face and combed her hair, and though it was still in that stiff sprayed and somewhat fake do, the afternoon sun gave it a rich, honey-colored sheen. Apart from the bandage across the right side of her forehead, the woman’s face was unblemished and damn near flawless. It was the kind of face that was as out of place here as it would be among Cory’s horse people and in the Tractor Supply where she worked. Heck, the woman looks like she should be in a movie.

Yet it wasn’t the woman’s cheekbones or even her downright gorgeous green eyes that made Cory turn and march back across the parking lot to get the truck and trailer, but the thinly-masked despair she detected under the woman’s too-bright smile, the curious mixture of fear and—as of yet undeserved—trust.

“I’m so glad you came.” The woman once more allowed Cory to fasten her into her seat after she helped her climb up into the truck. She was clutching a plastic bag containing her broken shoes to her chest, clearly uncomfortable without them. The nurses had given her bright yellow non-slip socks to put on that made Cory smile.

“I know this is a terrible imposition, and I wouldn’t have bothered you if I had any alternative, but you see…” Again the fearful look. “It seems my memory is stubbornly refusing to return, even though all the tests they did turned out to be normal. They were quite at a loss what to do with me under these conditions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m exceedingly relieved to be declared healthy and even psychologically normal, but where is one to go when one does not know where one belongs? So I may have fibbed just a bit and called you my friend, even though a friend should know your name, don’t you think, and I’ll be more than happy to properly introduce myself once that information returns to me. But that just shows how desperate they were to be rid of this particular conundrum. So…what was I to do?”

Yikes. Cory, who’d pulled out of the ER drop-off and pick-up area, followed the traffic circle back to the parking lot and, at a loss of where else to go, found her previous spot and stopped.

“Hold on, lady—I have no idea where to take you. Obviously they don’t consider you sick enough to keep you in the hospital. And if you can’t remember anything…” Having been duped before, she cast the woman a meaningful glance, “The place that really would make most sense is a police station.”

“Oh, no! Not the police! I’m not a criminal and I haven’t done anything wrong! Don’t you see? I had them call you to avoid being locked up somewhere! I may not remember things right now but I’m not crazy—dozens of tests proved that—and I know I’m not dangerous.” She turned innocent eyes on Cory. “Why, I couldn’t harm anyone. Look at me! I’m only half your size. Surely you’re not afraid of me.”

Getting the surreal feeling she’d been suddenly catapulted into one of the old black and white movies her grandma preferred to watch in the last years before she died, Cory blinked. “No, I’m not afraid of you.” She said it slowly, enunciating every syllable. Just how confused is this woman? “I was going to drive you to the police station so they could take down your stats in case someone filed a missing person report on you. You must have family somewhere. Or friends. Heck, coworkers even. Someone’s got to be missing you eventually.”

“Please…” The woman’s eyes teared up. “You must listen to me. While I was in the hospital emergency room I heard a woman screaming. I peeked out the door and saw two men in blue uniforms standing next to an older lady who was strapped onto a gurney. She was obviously upset and terrified and looked like she’d been attacked. Her hair was all mussed and she was missing a shoe. Why, her blouse was even torn open enough to show…well, let’s just say I was embarrassed on her behalf.” Her voice shook. “And the men didn’t even try to cover her up. They were shouting at her and one even told her to shut up. Now I may be confused about a couple of things, but surely it is not okay for an officer of the law to forget his manners and treat a woman like that.”

She sat up straight and grabbed Cory’s arm. “Wait! I know what that’s called! Police brutality! I’ve heard that before! I remember!” A smile crossed her face, transforming it and for a brief instant Cory got the image of a puppy frolicking in the field, guileless and happy, before the woman again looked fearful and out of sorts. “You’re not going to let that happen to me, are you? I’m sure my memory will return in full soon and I’ll be out of your life. Please don’t leave me!”

Whew. “Okay, so no police. What about a shelter?” Even as she said it, Cory cringed, because for the life of her she couldn’t image this soft-spoken and clearly educated, yet at the same time peculiarly mannered, woman in a room full of cots occupied by addicts and losers. Some of them attractive losers, all right, losers Cory herself had brought home against her better judgment, and every single time she’d lived to regret it.

“A homeless shelter? From what I overheard when my doctor was talking to my case worker, that’s even scarier than going to the police! In fact, the old woman being harassed by the police was brought in for fighting in a place like that. What kind of place has women beating up old ladies?” She all but cowered in the passenger seat, making Cory feel like a heel for suggesting it.

“Please, Cory—Can I call you Cory?—I don’t think I’m a hobo. Look at my dress. Clean and stylish. And my pearls! They’re not fakes, anyone can tell that.” She fingered them nervously. “I know! How about if I give them to you in payment for a night or two staying at your place? I’m not trying to swindle you, and normally I’d never ask a stranger to take me in—at least, I don’t think I would. But I’m really quite desperate. Can’t you see that?”

Cory turned and in the bright afternoon sun looked, really looked at the woman. Yes, she was certainly clean, but stylish? Clearly the woman didn’t realize that at some point yesterday she’d donned a period costume and headed to a party. “You look—nice. Very nice. All right? And your pearls are—cool.” But it wasn’t the pearls she was looking at, it was those perky little boobs in that tight fitting top that tapered down to an impossibly small waist, so small Cory could’ve probably spanned it with her fingers.

Suddenly self-conscious, Cory abruptly raised her gaze away from the woman’s breasts and pretended to fiddle with the gear shift.

“One night.” She said it gruffly, knowing full well this just might be her biggest mistake ever. And, with the truck already rolling: “But first things first. What do you want me to call you?”

The woman frowned. “They were calling me Jane Doe at the hospital. Ugh. Not a name I love. But since you’re kind enough to give me a place to stay, you can call me anything you want, I suppose.” She smiled again, this time playfully, almost coy.