She Cried. They Buried Me. I Came Back. novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Welfare Check

At Joan's at dawn Dirk and Sabrina arrive with flowers and an officer to check on her; she records it, learns the accounts are frozen, and Jerome is at the curb with her coat.

At twenty to seven the next morning, a police officer rang Joan's doorbell and asked to see me.

I was at her kitchen table in a pair of her flannel pajamas, eating oatmeal with my phone propped against the sugar bowl.

The phone was recording.

Joan Engen had trained me at Hennepin County's ER when I was twenty-one, and she had taken me in at midnight without one question.

She looked at me over her reading glasses. "You want me to send them away?"

"No. Let them in."

"Hallie."

"They've brought an officer so I'll look like I'm hiding," I said. "I'd rather look like I'm eating breakfast."

Joan opened the door.

Dirk stood on the porch in a navy overcoat with a bouquet of white roses in one hand.

Sabrina was beside him with a thermos of soup against her chest, her hair tucked under a knit hat, her eyes red from crying.

The officer stood a step behind them with his hat in his hands.

"Mrs. Lang?" he said. "Your husband asked us to check that you're safe. He's concerned you might hurt yourself."

"Good morning, Officer," I said. "I'm Hallie Lang, I'm twenty-nine, and I'm staying with my friend Joan, who is a charge nurse at Hennepin County."

"Are you taking medication?"

"I'm taking oatmeal."

Joan made a noise into her coffee.

"The bottle his mother showed a ballroom last night has my name on it," I said, "and I've never seen the doctor who wrote it. I'd like that written down."

The officer glanced at Dirk.

Dirk's face went soft with worry. "She's not herself, Officer. She's been like this for months."

"Describe how I've been," I said. "Be specific."

Dirk opened his mouth and shut it again.

The officer took a long look at the roses, the pajamas and the oatmeal, and put his hat on.

"Ma'am, you seem fine to me. You don't need to go anywhere you don't want to go."

"Thank you."

"Sir, ma'am," he said to the porch, and went down the steps.

Dirk stepped inside and set the roses on Joan's counter without being asked.

"Hal, nobody wanted that," he said quietly. "Mom panicked, and I panicked, and now we've both been stupid. Come home and we'll fix it."

"I'm staying here."

Sabrina came in behind him and put the thermos down.

"I made your favorite, the roasted tomato," she said, and her voice shook. "I was so scared, Hal. I'm just so glad you're safe."

She hugged me.

It was the same hug she had given me in the courthouse hallway in my last life, minutes before the jury came back.

Over my shoulder, I knew, she was looking at the phone against the sugar bowl.

When she let go, she was smiling at it.

"Is that recording?" she asked lightly.

"Yes."

"Good," Sabrina said. "I'd want one too."

Dirk's phone buzzed. He read it, and a muscle moved in his jaw.

"I should tell you before you hear it from the bank," he said. "I've frozen the joint cards. It's only for your safety, Hal, until you've seen his mother's psychiatrist and we know you're well."

I picked up my phone and opened the banking app with my thumb.

Both joint accounts were locked. My own account, the one my mother's life insurance had gone into, showed two hundred and twelve dollars.

"The locks at the house are changed too," Dirk added gently. "Come home, and the moment you've seen the doctor I'll give you the new key."

Joan took the roses off her counter and put them in the sink.

"You can go now, Dirk," she said.

"Mrs. Engen, I understand you're loyal to her."

"Out."

He went. Sabrina followed him and left the thermos of soup on the table.

Joan locked the door behind them and leaned against it.

"Two hundred and twelve dollars," she said. "That bastard."

"They'll be back tomorrow with a different officer."

"Then you can't stay here. This is the first place he knows."

"Joan."

"I'll cover the rent on my end and bring you clothes, and you will take your phone and go somewhere that isn't mine."

"Where?"

She had no answer.

Someone tapped on the window glass.

I turned. A man stood in the snow on Joan's front walk, in a plain black coat, with a woman's green wool coat folded over his arm.

It was mine. I had left it at the coat check.

Joan opened the door a hand's width. "Who are you?"

"Jerome Lang," he said. "I'm Dirk's brother, and she left her coat."

He held it out to me. His nose had been broken once and had set a little crooked.

"Dirk's lawyer called our father at midnight to say your cards would be frozen by morning," he said. "I came to see if you needed a way out."

"Why would you help me?"

"I haven't decided yet. I do have a spare room, a woodstove and a truck."

Behind him at the curb sat an old green pickup with its engine running.

Joan looked at me and gave one small nod.

"Get in the truck," Jerome said. "Before his next officer finds the address."

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