A woman of few words# 4

Her eyes sung sad stories.

I wanted to wrap her in a blanket and say it'd be okay.

And so I did.

*************

"Could be in shock, the poor girl"

"With the horrors she's seen, any man would be in shock. And she's a woman"

"A fine one, isn't she? A beauty indeed"

"Does she have family here? Maybe she'd like to start a new one"

"With me of course. There is no, more eligible bachelor, in all of Romania"

"Is that why women don't even venture close to where you stand?"

"It's you- I'm telling you. You're the reason they run away scared."

"Me? How can it possibly be me? What a foolish idea."

"Will you both shut up? The girl's in shock, not blind. She won't be marrying any of you"

Damn them both. They were paid to clean and cook and not ramble. He had enough on his plate without having to listen to these two debates over such ridiculous issues.

Mike Taylor was getting very irritated very fast. Since last night, thoughts of the Siren and its survivor had been haunting him. This morning he rushed to the private infirmary when he heard she had woken up, to find the woman, as silent as a winter's night. Damn him. He was not known for being a patient man. And this whole scene had been driving him mad. He needed answers, and the only one you could give them to him, was staring blankly at the plaster peeling from the opposite wall.

"My Lady, are you of the Siren?"

He knew she was of the Siren of course, but thought it was better to the start from the basics. Asking her name didn't work but he still believed if he could somehow trigger a sense of response from the lady, he would have half his problems solved. And, what better way to get a response from a survivor than to mention the site of the tragedy itself.

"Do you have family here?" No response

"Somebody we can contact to inform of your whereabouts?"

Silence.

"Do you have a passport or some other identification on you?"

Mike Taylor huffed. The woman was as good as a corpse. Not once had she made any indication that she had heard him. He almost felt like he was talking to a wall.

"My Lady, you need to talk so we can help you?"

"I have no family here, or anywhere else; nowhere to go either, nobody you need contact, and no identification whatsoever."

If he hadn't seen her lips move himself, he would never have believed she had spoken at last. The words were clear, precise and deliberately to the point. The tone factual; as if stating only what she believes is must.

But the voice.

The voice was serene. Calm. Controlled. The voice of a woman who was very much in control of her emotions, and the situation. There was no haste to her words, no stutter to her tongue and absolutely, no waver to her voice.

The woman was calm. Damn; she was absolutely calm.

Or- so could have gone nuts. Both were a possibility.

Well, at least she had spoken. That was something, or at least he thought it was.

But the problem was she'd just said she had nowhere to go. Where was he to send her then? She couldn't stay in the infirmary forever, and the port was no place to live. The only other option was a shelter. But damn, if the thought didn't hurt him. She deserved more than that. She was made for more than that.

"Would you like us to arrange for you a flight back? The government will cover any expenses regarding your journey."

I return she reached for the pen and pad lying besides her bed. If he had to guess he would say a nurse had left it behind.

When she handed it to him, he was shocked. The page was blank except for the middle, where written in a line straighter than his life- was a number.

The woman on the other end picked up on the third ring.

"Brita Middleton, how can I help you?"

"Yes, this is Mike Taylor, Chief in command of the port of Constanta. I have Ms. Katie Brant here with me. She's the one that gave me your number"

"Oh My God! She's alive? Oh thank god. I thought this time she had done it. Oh heavens. I can't believe she's safe. I heard what happened to the ship. I thought..."

"She's safe with us here in Romania, Miss Middleton. However, she refuses to speak."

"Ah yes. Katie is a woman of few words. She rarely ever talks."

There was an odd note to her voice. Something he could feel even across the phone. He wanted to ask her about it, but then thought better of it. It didn't concern him. Thus, he had no right to require about it. Period.

"Should we arrange for her to return to you? This makes me ask, you know her how?"

"I am her secretary Mr. Taylor."

"She is a businesswoman?"

"A writer. And a very good one at that"

"Your number is American. Should we arrange for a flight back?"

"Romania is as good as any place in the world. She is more than capable of fending for herself. If you could let me have a phone call with her, I can transfer funds to any account she likes."

"She must have lost your bank cards, her identification documents and everything else of legal value. Even if you could have money transferred she would be unable to withdraw it from her existing accounts. And you cannot create a new one without your identification papers or passport. "

"What do you suggest I do then?"

"Have money transferred to some domestic account here in Romania. Or wait until the authorities take care of all your legal procedures."

"How long will that take?"

"At least a week."

"She has no one in Romania. Where will she stay till then"

"We could find her a shelter"

"SHE IS NOT GOING TO A SHELTER. By the gods, you expect her to live in a crammed place like some abandoned woman. Not a chance in hell. Give me your account number, I'll transfer you some money; get her a room at a hotel."

Mike Taylor felt like shit. The woman was right. He had been scared when she'd started shouting from the other end of the phone, and yet nothing could deny the fact that her anger was justified.

Something from the other woman broke his trance, and he turned to the conversation startled. What was she asking for? His account number, yes. And give her that he did.

___________________________________________

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- Elliana