And he was gone, leaving her to swell and throb in her own juices.
But he didn't. Not for long, anyway. He got all of her things out of the car and brought them into his room, putting her nightgowns away and setting her toiletries in the bathroom.
"Are you hungry, sweetie?" he asked when he was done.
"No, thanks."
"Okay. I've got a couple things to do." He handed her a huge remote that looked like it could run a seven forty seven. "If you push the power button, the TV will appear."
Appear? Of course, her curiosity got the better of her, and she had to push it. What looked like a double dresser across from the end of the bed disgorged a huge plasma TV.
He set a big mug of water with ice next to her on the nightstand, along with a box of cinnamon graham crackers, and gave her a pain pill, which she knew better than to refuse. She had found out the hard way that she needed to keep something in her stomach when she was taking pain medications. Eventually, she could start declining the meds, but not until she had some time to knit herself back together.
"Have some crackers, but you are not to get up except for the reasons I gave you. If you disobey me..." he said. Clay gave that look again, and bent down to kiss her on the top of her head. "You have already got one spanking coming. If you truly do something stupid, like try to hobble your way home while I'm gone, I'll tack another, worse spanking onto the list for when you're healed."
"Clay! I do not have a spanking coming for anything—"
"I'm sorry I have to go, but there are some things I need to take care of as soon as possible."
She knew he wouldn't hear it, but she said anyway, "I'm fine."
"I won't be long."
"Take as long as you need. I'm probably going to fall asleep, anyway."
And she did exactly that. She was asleep practically before he left the room. And when she awoke, most of what she owned was around her. Her phone was on the nightstand next to her, and there were several paintings on the floor. She couldn't imagine what had happened, why those things were staring her in the face when they should have been safe at her apartment.
"Clay!"
He literally ran to her bedside. "What? What's the matter? Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not okay! Did something happen to my apartment? Why is my stuff here?" She was on the verge of tears, figuring there had been a fire or something, and she might have lost some of her work. Elodie clutched at his shirtfront as he sat down gingerly on the side of the bed.
"No, sweetie. No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Nothing happened to your apartment except that you don't have it anymore."
"I what?" she squeaked. "Why am I homeless? What happened? I was never late with my rent, not once, even when—" she almost slipped and said "even when it meant I didn't eat that week," but she was able to stop herself before it got out.
*****
Clay knew she'd never been late, and he'd begun to suspect, considering her living conditions, that she had kept up the rent by doing without something else, somehow. Until he'd seen her apartment, he hadn't realized just how dirt poor she was. But now that he did, he wasn't about to let her continue to live in squalor. No way.
And the worst part of his afternoon had been the lunch he had set up with Joshua Maddox. It wasn't that he hated the man—although he wasn't any too fond of him, either—it was what he had learned from him.
They had actually had a reasonably decent lunch together, finding common ground in their obvious love for Elodie. Joshua had taken Clay's measure as closely as he had Joshua's, and they each came to the silent conclusion that—as far as Elodie was concerned—they could at least tolerate each other for her sake.
Some of the things Clay had learned about how Elodie lived made him cringe and want to start a self-flagellation routine that lasted the rest of his life. Joshua had been surprised at his shock, assuming that Clay had known more about his sister-in-law—or, as he had put it with a bit of an edge, that he hadn't cared enough to know more.
No wonder she hadn't had a winter coat—she couldn't afford it. And all those times when he had wanted to go do something expensive... Clay just wanted to knock himself upside the head. How could he have been so oblivious? He'd had no idea that she truly was poor. He had foolishly just believed she was a free spirit and artistic soul who didn't focus on materialistic things. How could he be so blind?
Joshua had done what he could—of course, Elodie was as proud and stubborn with him about being helped by friends as she was with Clay. She wouldn't accept much, because she didn't have much to give, as far as she was concerned.
The last thing Joshua had said, though, was the kicker. As he was shrugging into his coat, he turned to Clay, saying, "She loves you, you know."
Clay had been staring down into his coffee. "I know."
"You've seen the portrait?"