I just lay there, exhausted, and once again feeling defeated. I screamed in frustration and then turned and, pulling my legs up, pounded at the closet door. I couldn't get my legs back enough to strike the door hard. but I did what I could and then I stopped, closed my eves and rested. Before I could start again. I saw the handle of the closet door jiggle.
They had come back. I thought, Something had gone wrong. Who knew what they would do now, especially if they heard me making all this noise and effort to get out? I raised my feet in anticipation. I would fight with every ounce of strength. The doorknob clicked and the door opened so gradually, I thought it was being pushed by my breath.
I stared in joyful disbelief.
Echo was there. Still bound around her ankles and at the wrists, but Skeeter had not put her arms behind her. She was able to lift her arms and get her hands on that doorknob. She had managed to roll, slide, and whatever from the bed to the closet and then get to her knees and get her hands around the knob.
I wished she could hear my cry of joy. She smiled as if she had and I twisted and turned to get myself rolled out of the closet.
"You did good," I told her. She nodded. I saw how streaked with tears her face was.
What would we do now? I wondered, I turned my back to her to show her how my wrists were bound with the wire. She was able to use her hands even though her wrists were tightly bound together. She worked on the knot. It was difficult and she stopped and whined her frustration. but I kept encouraging her until finally, she made some headway and became encouraged and more determined herself. I could feel the wire loosening until finally, she was able to pull it far enough apart for me to jiggle my hands free.
I turned and hugged her and then I quickly undid her wrists. We both smiled and laughed with joy as we untied our ankles. Once again. I had to pause to catch my breath. but I wasn't acing to linger long. When I stood straight this time. I felt the ache in my legs. I had to move about and limber up quickly. I put on a new pair of panties and another pair of jeans. I located my shoes where Skeeter had tossed them and then we went to the door. She was worried they were still in the house. but I had no doubt they were well on their way to putting their plan to work, which meant going to the attorney they had dug up from some legal junkyard and then rushing over to the hospital to get Mrs, Westington's signature.
One of the first things I did when we walked out and down the stairs was go to the kitchen and get some orange juice. I found some bread and smeared some jam on a slice, gobbling the food quickly. Echo was signing all sorts of questions at me: "Why did they do this to us? Were they gone? How was her grandmother? Can we go to see her? Where was Trevor?"
I made my answers as simple as I could, explaining that her mother was just after money. I told her about Trevor's mother dying and then I said we had to go see her grandmother immediately. She nodded. eager. How ironic it was that she was the one who had saved me. I thought, and then I thought back to when she had first appeared in that bedroom doorway and saw what Skeeter was trying to do to me.
"How did you know I was still here?" I signed.
She smiled and pointed up.
"Destiny." she said. She pronounced the name rather well. I thought. And then she signed. "She told me."
It was a strange and eerie moment for me. What did she mean? She couldn't hear anything, even if my voice had come through the walls.
"How?" I asked her.
"I found her in my closet," she explained. "And I knew you would never leave without her."
I smiled. Yes. I thought, Destiny did tell her. In more ways than one. Destiny had rescued me again, "Thank you. Uncle Palaver." I muttered under my breath.
"Come on," I said. "We have work to do."
It didn't occur to me until we had stepped out of the house that Skeeter had taken my car, and of course, Trevor was still away.
"Hurry." I said, and led her to the motor home. How happy I was that the legal system moved so slowly and it was still here on the property. Echo was excited about riding in it. Despite all that had been done to her and all she had seen, she still had a young girl's innocent view of the world. How sad it was to have to give that up, but eventually we all had to do it.
I started the engine and turned it around to head down the driveway. I really had no detailed plan. I thought first about going directly to the police to tell them what Skeeter and Rhona had done to us, but my first concern wasn't that. It was Mrs. Westington, so I drove as quickly as I could to the hospital. Of course. I was afraid of what it would be like confronting Rhona and Skeeter, and I was even more frightened of what
effect it might have on Mrs. Westin ton if it was done in front of her. The commotion would be too much. but I had to show her that I hadn't deserted her.
When we turned into the hospital parking lot. I looked about quickly for Skeeter and Rhona's van. I didn't see it and first wondered if they had already been here and gotten what they wanted out of Mrs. Westington. Perhaps we were too late. I found two empty parking places wide enough for the motor home. As soon as I pulled in, I hurried Echo along and we crossed the lot to the hospital entrance. Of course. I knew what I looked like to everyone, rushing about in a frenzy, my hair a mess. with Echo clinging to my hand, her own face still tear- streaked and her hair just as wild. I was sure we both made for quite a sight.
As soon as we stepped out of the elevator onto Mrs. Westington's floor. I thought finally, finally, luck had decided to smile upon us. There at the end of the hallway, in conference with a nurse. was Doctor Battie. He glanced in our direction, looked briefly at us, and then down at the chart before lifting his head again with surprise.
"I thought you had left the area," he said as we approached him.
"She lied to you. I have to speak with you," I said, eyeing the nurse. who looked at us with curiosity and interest. "'Privately, please."
He nodded and led me and Echo down the hallway to an empty patient's room.
"How is Mrs. Westington?" I asked before saving anything else.
"I'm not seeing enough improvement yet to be comfortable with her having any other procedure. Something is really upsetting her," he added. "What's happening here?"
How do I begin? I wondered. Without speaking, I showed him my wrists.