She tentatively pulled back the draperies and looked for the spectre.
No shimmering Archie but, instead, there were headlights in the drive and what she could see with some alarm through the darkness were two men. One short and he was helping a stumbling tall one towards the front door, a tall man who looked, she peered closely, her nose nearly pressed against the glass, exactly like Douglas.
Feeling a sense of unexplained urgency, she turned around and fled her room. She met them in the long entry hall that led to the stairwell and what she saw through the darkness cut only by a small side lamp on a table made her skid to a halt.
Douglas was lurching awkwardly and had his arm around the short man who was holding him up. The other man’s arm was held out straight in front of him, pointing a gun… at Julia.
Her heart skipped a frantic beat and she threw her hands up in a reflex response that was the universal sign language for Don’t shoot!
“It’s okay, Nick,” Douglas muttered, “she’s my wife.”
“You’re what?” the man asked, his head jerking around to look at Douglas as he dropped his gun arm.
“I’m not his wife!” Julia cried.
“You’re going to be,” Douglas returned.
“No… I… am… not,” Julia retorted.
“He’s delirious,” the man named Nick put in.
“I’ll say he’s delirious!” Julia responded.
Nick decided their bizarre discussion was at an end. “No, woman, I mean, he’s really delirious. He’s been shot.”
Julia gasped, her heart skipping eleven frantic beats and then seemingly shuddering to a halt.
“Be quiet,” Nick warned. “I need to get him up to his room without being seen or heard.”
They were moving forward and she noticed that Douglas’s left arm was hanging limply at his side.
It was at this time she also noticed the wet looking stain on his coat.
Julia’s hand flew to her mouth, her heart kick started to drill in her chest as her eyes darted around the hall.
“My room,” she stated urgently, thinking quickly and Nick looked at her mutely. “You’ll wake the children. They can’t see him like this, take him to my room. It’s out of the way.” Then she ordered, “Follow me.”
She started ahead but obviously Nick hesitated because she heard Douglas’s deep voice say, “Follow her.”
They got Douglas to her room and Julia ran to the draperies she left open, closing them as Nick deposited Douglas on her bed.
She hustled to the bathroom and grabbed every towel she could see then back and saw Douglas gingerly stripping off a black, long-sleeved t-shirt. Nick already had Douglas’s overcoat off and had thrown it on the floor.
She saw the blood on his back, the bullet hole below his shoulder and rushed forward.
“Holy crap,” she whispered.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Douglas noted sardonically. “I would say this was at least a ‘fucking hell’ moment.
“Don’t joke!” Julia snapped. “How on earth did you get shot?”
Nick and Douglas looked at each other as Julia began obsessively to lay towel after towel on the pillows as if their smoothed absorbing layer would make the difference and all would become right again in the world. She then pushed Douglas back against them gently, handing him a clean hand towel to press against the wound.
Neither man, she noted, answered.
She decided to let that go and announced, “I’m calling the police.”
Douglas caught her arm in a surprisingly firm, almost painful grip.