Page 70 of Breathe
But now she’d told Ellen that she wanted her home, and not because she didn’t approve of Americans, but because she was worried for Ellen’s happiness. She’d missed her for herself, not because she wanted a son-in-law and grandchildren. Perhaps Edward hadn’t killed off all of Ellen’s life in England. Perhaps she could go home.
Home. She had begun to believe in the possibility that home was wherever Kane was; that she could share her life with him, trust in her own feelings and admit them to him. She went into the bathroom for another box of tissues. You should have known.
She had to call Penny next. Within half an hour the concierge was sending her friend up.
Penny looked murderous, but when she saw the parts of Ellen’s face that weren’t covered with the bandage, her face fell. She hugged her tight for a long time. Ellen was surprised at how glad she was to see her.
“Good thing I’m wearing my waterproof mascara,” Penny said bracingly, as she swiped at her eyes when they pulled apart. “Here’s your spare key, before I forget.”
She was a vision in Christmas circa 1955 today, with her signature red lipstick and a tight dark-green sweater with a large black flower and leaves appliqued down one side. In honor of the cold weather, she was wearing drainpipe pants and booties with a fur trim.
Somehow, the fact that Penny looked just as she should was soothing to Ellen. She introduced her to Carl first, as Kane was extricating himself from his laptop on the couch. Predictably, Penny’s eyes lit up: Carl was dark and solid and had a sweet smile and killer shoulders.
When she got to Kane, she began with, “I thought I’d told you—”
“Oh, don’t,” Ellen interrupted. “He blames himself enough as it is.”
Penny hmmphed; Kane raised an eyebrow and went to sit on the couch. “What’s the press like out there?” Ellen asked.
“I didn’t see any. Haven’t you been watching the TV?”
“Of course not. More innuendo and assumptions. They’re probably saying it was—”
“Whoa, whoa. Okay, you should definitely hear them. Carl, do you know where the remote is?” Carl obediently turned away to get the remote, which gave Penny a chance to fan herself ostentatiously in Ellen’s direction.
They all faced the huge TV that was installed over the fireplace. “You know, putting electronics over a fire isn’t good for them,” Penny said vaguely, but her eyes slid over to the back of Kane’s head.
A local lunchtime pseudo-news show was on, and the two women were having a field day. “This is what comes,” one of them gushed importantly, “of the media’s obsession with celebrity. Even someone barely connected with it can be attacked because of who she is!”
“See?” said Penny. “Everyone’s on your side now. Look, they don’t even have any photos of you there. Trying to pretend they weren’t part of it.”
The second bobblehead leaned in. “An insider told us that Ellen got one of them with the heel of her Louboutin. You go, girl!”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Ellen muttered. “You think I can afford Louboutins?”
“They think Kane buys them for you,” Penny said.
“Great. Just great.”
The women on the screen went on. “Let’s go to our correspondent, Mary Caminiti, live from the scene.”
Poor Ms. Caminiti was several dozen feet away from the scene, behind police tape, but she gainfully gave what small details the eavesdroppers to the police radio had. Even at that distance, seeing the wall of the building she’d been pushed up against made Ellen shiver and turn her face away.
Kane noticed first and was next to her in a second. “Turn it off,” he barked at Carl.
“No, no.” She pushed at Kane’s chest. It was the first time she’d touched him since she’d woken. His chest was warm and hard, and it broke her heart. “I’d like to know what I’ll have to deal with when I... get back out there.”
Kane looked as though he wanted to argue, but the phone rang. He took it into the bedroom. Penny spent the time tucking Ellen into a corner of the couch (which was now covered with a blanket) and finding a Hepburn-Tracy movie to watch.
Katharine Hepburn had just delivered her first zinger when Kane came back. “It was the police,” he said. “They got a match on the DNA, and they found your purse in a trash can. They followed the bloodstains, but they reckon the men found some rag or other in the trash to cover the guy’s cheek, because the blood stops after that. Both men have a record; that’s how they have their DNA. The last they knew they were both homeless, but the police are pretty confident they’ll find them.”
He was next to Ellen, who’d sunk down on the arm of the couch. More gently he said, “Will you be able to go and I.D. them when they get them?”
Ellen drew a deep breath. “Of course,” she said, though her heart had begun to speed up at the fleshing out of these two into men with histories, with names, with lives and crimes that stretched out before their encounter with her. What else had they done, and to whom?
Kane sat on the arm of the couch and rubbed her shoulder. Ellen leaned in. He really smelled soooo good.
“We can go and get your purse whenever you like,” he said.
