If Onions Could Spring Leeks by Paige Shelton Page A

not all that terrible, then,” I muttered as I tried to lift my eyelids. “Did someone tape these?” I said as I put my fingers on the immovable lids.
    â€œYou’re not dead,” Jerome’s voice said quietly in one ear.
    â€œHey, Betts, you’re not dead,” another voice said in the other ear. I was pretty sure this one belonged to Cliff. “You were hit on the head, but you’re going to be okay. Your eyelids are heavy, but they’ll open.”
    I gritted my teeth and willed my eyes to open. It took a second to focus away the fuzzies, but another few seconds later I saw Cliff looking down at me. Only Cliff. The backdrop behind him was made up of ugly fluorescent lights and a white panel ceiling.
    â€œOh, hi,” I said as I now blinked double-time.
    â€œHi,” he said with a worried but relieved smile.
    â€œI was hit on the head?” I said as I reached for it and tried to sit up. I was on an exam table, but the back had been raised so that I wasn’t all the way flat. “Oh my, that hurts.” I melted back down.
    â€œRest, Betts. You’re going to be fine. No concussion even. You’ll be good as new in no time at all, but you need to take it easy for a day or two,” Cliff said.
    â€œWhere am I?” I said as I looked around the room, quickly realizing I’d been in it before, or at least one very similar to it.
    â€œYou’re in Dr. Callahan’s office. We were going to transport you to a hospital in either Springfield or St. Louis, but you were awake earlier. Doc did a CT scan and your noggin looks okay.”
    â€œI don’t remember being awake earlier. What day is it? When did this happen? How long have I been out?”
    â€œIt happened just this morning, only about an hour and a half ago. You were conscious when Roy found you, but you were woozy. You were given a sedative when you got here so that might have messed with your memory. Dr. Callahan made sure there was no bleeding in there, no fractures either.”
    Either the sedative was dissipating or I was recovering rapidly now. The moments before I’d been hit came back to me in a giant wave of memory.
    â€œDerek—I found Derek. Cliff, Derek!” I sat up again even though the movement didn’t seem much easier.
    Cliff nodded. “I know. Roy found him, too. He was in lots worse shape.”
    â€œHe was dead?”
    â€œYes, Betts. Hit over the head with a blunt instrument, more than once, and he didn’t fare as well as you did. He was dead.”
    â€œOh no, that’s terrible. Did you or Roy catch whoever did this to him—and probably the same person who did this to me?”
    â€œNo, Betts. Roy found only you and Derek,” Cliff said. He swallowed hard.
    I sat up even straighter, hopefully indicating that I was going to be all right.
    â€œThat’s terrible, Cliff. Poor Derek, and poor Lynn. I’m sure she’s a mess,” I said. One of my eyes wanted to close from the surges of pain with every beat of my pulse, but I willed it to stay open just so Cliff was assured that they wouldn’t just close forever.
    I did not see Jerome in the room. I didn’t smell him. But I was certain I heard his voice in my head.
    â€œIsabelle, you’re trying too hard. You’re only going to give yourself a whopper of a headache. Just rest. You’re going to be fine by tomorrow. Cliff knows that. I’m trying to get to you. I’ll be there when I can.”
    This was new. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the bump on the head was causing auditory hallucinations. I didn’t acknowledge Jerome’s voice, but his words didn’t quite fit. If Cliff knew I was going to be okay, why did his face say differently?
    I inspected Cliff closer just to see if it was maybe my vision, maybe the eye that so desperately wanted to close was not seeing correctly. But no, something else wasn’t right.
    â€œCliff, what is