by E B Corbin
“I did try to wake you. Besides, this is the second time in a few days you took a hit to your head. Hard as that head may be, it’s still vulnerable.”
Her suspicions about Callahan when they first met flashed in her memory. Her befuddled mind wondered if she might have been right. “Did you conk me on the head to knock some sense into me?”
“Are we going to start that again?” He walked further into the room pulling a visitor’s chair next to her bed. “No, I did not do it. I would never hit a woman, no matter how much she irritates me.”
As he dropped into the visitor chair, Luke Meyers knocked on the doorframe. “You better? I’ve got to finish my report. You were kind of out of it last night.”
Roxanne’s corkscrew brain remembered reading the will, but not any details or even if she finished it. “I don’t know what happened. Somebody bashed me over the head with something hard. That’s it. That’s all I can tell you.”
Luke asked, “You didn’t see or hear anyone come into the cabin?”
“When I heard the door open I thought it was Callahan. I was in the middle of reading some papers so I didn’t look up. Didn’t expect to get knocked on the head.”
“You made any enemies since you’ve been in town?”
“I’ve barely spent any time here. How could I?”
Luke shrugged. “A big city attorney comes to town. Some people might believe you’re bringing trouble.”
“Trouble? I just want out of this place and back to my job. That shouldn’t offend anyone enough to attack me.”
“Probably some low-life who heard about what happened to Roxy looking’ for easy pickings. We get a few burglaries ‘round here, especially when word gets out that the owner is… gone.”
“So you think a burglar hit me from behind?”
“Maybe he thought she had some cash lying ‘round. She had a television and computer, didn’t she?”
As Roxanne tried to picture a computer at the cabin, her head throbbed. “I guess so.” She turned to Callahan. “Did you notice anything missing?”
Callahan shrugged. “I can’t say. When I found you on the floor, blood all over the rug, I did a quick scan to make sure we were alone. Didn’t want someone to sneak up on me.”
“Damn.” Roxanne ran through her memories again. “I vaguely heard the door open, thankful you finally came to pick me up. Then, the next thing I know, here I am.” She spread her hands across the bed covers. “Not so thankful anymore.”
Luke paused before the next question. “Anythin’ important in the will?”
“I don’t know.” Roxanne sighed peering at the ceiling in thought. “I found the will and just began reading before the door opened.”
“What did it say?” Luke moved closer.
Roxanne squinted, trying to recall the document. “I can’t nail it down. I must have dropped the will on the desk when I got hit.” She asked Callahan,” Did you see it there?”
“I wasn’t looking. I’ll check when I go back.”
Luke held up a hand. “For now, it’s a crime scene. Can’t get in until we’re done.”
“Great, just great,” Roxanne grumbled. “I so much need to leave this town, never to return.”
Luke replied, “Might not be a bad idea.”
The sun came out from behind a cloud, flooding the room with bright light. Roxanne squeezed her eyes closed. “God! Make it go away!”
“Sorry, I’m not God and can’t do much about the sun.” Callahan went to the window to close the louvres. “Better?”
Roxanne nodded her appreciation for the shadowed room. She became conscious of how she must look: a big white bandage on her forehead, her long hair tangled on the pillows, her mouth filled with cotton balls, and her breath — hell, it had to be fetid right now. She dropped her hand from her eyes to her mouth and mumbled, “How did you get in here anyway? Don’t they have visiting hours?”
Callahan removed her hand from her mouth, held on to it, while looking her in the eye. “Yeah, they have visiting hours. Who pays attention?”
Since his hand felt good wrapped around hers, she adjusted her position to rest her hand in his. For a split second, the temptation to reach for him and pull him closer surfaced in her foggy brain. But Luke still hovered like a cobra ready to strike. Besides, she had sworn off men after Richard. “I need to get out of here,” she repeated for what seemed like the millionth time.
“Not yet. Doctors don’t make their rounds ’till later. I checked. You’re stuck here until then.”
“Dammit! I at least need to brush my teeth… my hair. I must be a mess.”
“You look fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“Not exactly. It’s so good to see you awake. You frightened me last night. Are you sure you didn’t see who did this to you? Maybe a glimpse from the corner of your eye?”
“I’m sure.” She shook her head, immediately sorry for the quick movement. “Ohhh…”
“You’re hurting.” Callahan gently pushed her hair from her forehead, avoiding the king-sized band aid.
For a moment, with him so close, Roxanne thought he would kiss her. Surprised she decided it would not be such a dreadful thing. Then she remembered her breath and Luke’s presence. She turned her head away from Callahan, taking care to move slowly.
“Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing his throat came from the doorway. Callahan dropped her hand as he swung around to find a man and woman standing there.
“You must be Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly.” Callahan stood to offer them his hand. “I’m John Callahan. I called you.”
“It’s good to meet you, John,” the man said. “Thank you for informing us of Roxanne’s, er, misfortune.”
Roxanne saw the fit, attractive older couple hesitating in the doorway and wanted to hide under the covers. The woman held onto the man’s arm with both hands as if she would fall without the support. Her hair showed off a stylish bob, wrapping around her chin. She wore jeans, boots, and light blue parka with panache. The man combed his thick, salt and pepper gray hair, away from his face. He wore a dark gray business suit, light blue shirt, and navy tie; a topcoat draped over his one free arm.
“You called them? Why the hell did you do that?” Roxanne gaped at Callahan with an accusing glint in her eye. She thanked her lucky stars she didn’t kiss him. The traitor!
“Roxanne!” her mother scolded, “That’s no way to talk to your friend. We’re thankful he contacted us. You certainly would never have done it.”
“He shouldn’t have either.”
Callahan turned Roxanne. “I thought they should know what happened.”
“Well, I’ll be going.” Luke shifted uncomfortably after the arrival of her parents. “If you remember anything, give me a call.” He handed Roxanne a card with the police phone number listed. He nodded to the room in general before he left.
Her mother asked, “Who was that?”
“Just one of the local cops,” Roxanne answered.
“Are they checking into what happened to you?”
“I guess so. Don’t know why. It’s no big deal.”
Roxanne crossed her arms slumping against the pillow, avoiding eye contact with her guests. She studied the locker across from the bottom of her bed, fantasizing she could get to it, get dressed, and out of the room with none of them noticing.
Callahan cleared his throat. “Don’t even think about it.”
Roxanne bristled. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
Callahan glanced from her to the locker and back again. “Oh, but I do.”
“You’re turning out to be a pain in the ass.”
“Roxanne!” Her mother stepped up to the side of the bed. “I see your language hasn’t improved. And it is a big deal. You were attacked! You could have been killed!”
“Well, I should be going.” Callahan recognized when to cut bait. He stood indicating the empty chair. “Have a seat, Mrs. O’Reilly.”
“Call me Maureen, p
lease.” Roxanne’s mother smiled at Callahan. “But you don’t have to let us chase you away. You’re welcome to stay.”
“Thanks, but I need to check in with my grandfather. I haven’t filled him in on what happened. I can tell him about it over breakfast.”
“How is your grandfather?”
“He’s good. Getting old but doesn’t want to hear it. Sometimes he makes me tired just watching him take care of the chickens, pigs, and horses.”
“He still has the farm?”
“Yeah. He has no intention of selling it and he always cooks a huge breakfast. Gets upset if no one is there to eat with him.”
“Well, tell Chester I said hello.”
From the bed, Roxanne asked, “You know Callahan’s grandfather?”
Her mother patted Roxanne’s closest hand, the one crossed over her chest in a defensive manner. “Yes, dear, we’re old acquaintances.”
“What? How?”
“I’ll be going now,” Callahan repeated. He gave Roxanne a quick kiss on top of her head, whispered in her ear. “I’ll be back.” Then he turned to her father holding out his hand. “It was good meeting you, Mr. and Mrs.O’Reilly.”
“I’m Patrick. And thanks again for… this…” He gestured toward Roxanne and her mother.
“Glad to do it…no matter what Roxanne says.” He slipped out the door before Roxanne could open her mouth.
Her mother commented, “Such a nice young man.”
“How do you know Chester?” Roxanne demanded.
“It’s not important, dear.” Her mother gently brushed Roxanne’s hair away from her face.
“It is to me.” Roxanne refused to allow her mother to change the subject.
“Oh, I’ve known him for a long time ago. Haven’t seen him in ages though.”
“How did you meet?”
“That’s not important, either.” Her mother waved a hand in dismissal. “What’s important is that you get better.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Yet you’re in the hospital.”
“It’s just a precaution. You know how doctors are.”
“I’m sure they would not have admitted you if it wasn’t necessary.”
“I’ll be out of here by this afternoon. Now tell me how you know Callahan’s grandfather?”
“It’s a long story, dear. We’ll talk about it when you’re feeling better.”
“I feel fine. I have nowhere to go until I’m officially released. You can tell me right now.” Roxanne had no intention of letting her mother off the hook.
“Maureen.” Her father had been standing quietly by the doorway but he moved next to his wife to put his arm around her shoulder. “It’s time you tell her the truth.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Well…?” Roxanne tried to hide her annoyance at her mother’s dawdling. Was Chester not as harmless as he seemed? Should she be wary of any more interaction with his grandson?
A woman interrupted, pushing a breakfast cart into her room with a tray of soggy eggs, pale toast, and lukewarm brown water passing for coffee.
Her mother uncovered the meal, shifting the tray toward Roxanne. “That looks good. You need to eat to get your strength back.”
“It looks god-awful.” Roxanne re-covered the plate pushing it away in disgust. “Tell me about Chester.”
Her mother stopped fussing with the breakfast tray. Instead, she stared at her hands. “Where to start””
“At the beginning,” her father whispered, squeezing his wife’s shoulder before moving to the far wall. “Make sure you tell her all of it,”
After a brief hesitation, her mother began. “Chester’s father had the farm next to my parents’ here in Oilville.”
“You’re from Oilville? And lived on a farm? You never told me.”
“I had no reason to mention it. After mom and dad died in the plane accident, I never wanted to come back here.”
“You told me about the plane crash. It would have been nice if you told me about living in Oilville… at least I wouldn’t have come up here completely clueless.” She breathed in a lungful of stale air, inhaling more antiseptic smells. “You didn’t think I deserved to hear stories where my grandparents lived, where you came from?”
Her mother sank into the chair Callahan had vacated with a sigh. “You never asked… and I never brought it up. It didn’t seem important.”
Roxanne slouched against the pillow. “So Roxy’s farm is the old family homestead?”
“It’s where we were born and grew up. When Roxy and I left for college, we never expected our parents wouldn’t be there to see us graduate. I was a sophomore, Roxy, a junior, when their plane crashed in California. The first time our parents traveled to the West Coast turned out to be the last. Roxy and I had encouraged them to take the trip.” Leaving her seat to open the window blinds, her mother watched the sun attempt to break through the pillow of clouds. Returning to the chair, she continued, “We both felt responsible. It was a point in our lives I’d like to forget.”
Roxanne’s thoughts spun in her throbbing head. How could she sell the farm when it had been in the family for generations? Except, a million dollars was a lot of money. Still, her Aunt Roxy held on to it all these years. Why? From what she’d learned about Roxy so far, her aunt didn’t appear to be much of a farmer.
When Roxanne shook her head grimacing a sharp pain exploded behind her eyes. She told herself to quit thinking about it before her brain shattered. “Are you part owner of the farm?” she asked her mother.
“No, I gave it up. Didn’t want it. Didn’t even want to think about it. I gladly signed over my half to Roxy. She found a very nice man to take over the day-to-day running of the farm. She tried to explain her game plan to me but I never listened. Too much responsibility, too much hard work. I loved living in the city.”
“So you knew Chester when you were growing up.” Roxanne struggled to get a handle on this new development.
“Yes, Chester didn’t work his farm much that I remember. He and his wife were good friends with my parents. They spent a lot of Saturday nights at our farm playing cards and they kept in touch after Chester moved away, but I had no idea how important Chester Callahan was or how much help he would be to Roxy and me.”
Roxanne leaned forward, eager to hear about Chester’s connection.
Her mother’s eyes glazed over. “We were in our teens. We considered everyone over thirty old.” She laughed. “We never paid much attention to our parents’ friends.
“Now, Chester’s two sons were another story. They were a year or two older, and we both had crushes on them. When his oldest son died in a freak tractor accident, Chester changed. From what I recall, the accident could have been prevented with a small alteration to the tractor design. Chester campaigned for more safety features on farm vehicles. His crusade led Chester into politics, then he somehow ended up receiving an appointment as the US ambassador to Ireland.”
“Well, that’s impressive.” Roxanne still had trouble associating the man Callahan called Gramps to the version as a former ambassador. “Callahan hardly ever talks about it.”
Her mother looked confused for a moment. “Oh, you mean, John, Chester’s grandson. Why do you call him by his last name?”
Roxanne replied, “It’s easier.”
“It seems rude.”
“If he thinks it’s rude, he never mentioned it.” Roxanne used her feigned indifference to avoid any discussion about Callahan as a potential marriage prospect. “So you don’t really know Chester well?”
“Oh, I came to know Chester Callahan quite well. Our parents were dead, we had no family around here anymore. When Roxy hired Tom Madison to farm the land, she gave his family use of the house we grew up in, so we moved our stuff to a small hunting cabin on the property. I always hated it. Then Roxy graduated with a degree in Political Science and moved to Belfast. The next summer when I had nothing to do, I made plans to visit.”
Roxanne
stayed silent, watching her mother fidget with her purse strap.
“It wasn’t the best time to be a tourist in Northern Ireland… or to be living there, either. There were gangs everywhere; bombings, shootings, and all kinds of danger. Catholics, Protestants, even innocent children playing in the streets were killed merely for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Roxanne sat up straighter in bed. “You were in Northern Ireland? When the IRA was active?”
Her mother nodded. “Oh, yes. Between the Official Irish Republican Army, the Irish Nationalist Liberation Army, the Ulster Volunteer Force, I stayed terrified the whole while. So many gangs, I could never keep them straight; wasn’t sure who stood for what. Or what any of them were hoping to achieve. Don’t even know how I still remember all those factions.”
Her mother’s gaze dropped to the worn linoleum beside the bed, then lifted back to her daughter. “I wanted to keep a low profile and see the Blarney Stone… but that was in the Republic of Ireland, and we were in Northern Ireland— might as well have been on Mars. Roxy preferred to stay in Belfast, to be near the action, as she called it.”
This story seemed a fairy tale, not at all like the mother who grounded Roxanne for going to a U2 concert without permission. Confused, Roxanne asked, “Why did you stay?”
“I made a hard decision. Roxy had been there through a lot of the violence and didn’t want to leave. She loved Ireland, the green countryside, the small Irish pubs, even the lilt to the Irish voice. She wanted to help the people caught in the shootings and bombings. I assumed her idealism would fade, but it never did. Her natural inclinations were worlds apart from mine.”
Roxanne experienced a pang of regret over never meeting the woman her mother described. She felt an inexplicable rapport with her aunt. “Roxy sounds like an interesting person.”
With a sad smile, her mother said, “You would have liked her.”
“I think so too.” For a change, they agreed on something. “Go on…” Roxanne prompted, raising her right hand.
“Well… I had never been farther away from home than Erie, where I went to school, so I guess I considered it an adventure, a dangerous one, to be sure, but still an adventure. Even though I thought Roxy crazy to want to stay, I couldn’t leave her there alone.” Lost in the past, her mother paused before continuing. “If it hadn’t been for Chester Callahan, we might never have made it out of there.”