After what seemed a few short minutes, Riley’s eyes flickered open. There was Paul, standing beside the bed with a concerned expression on his face.
“Hi,” he greeted. “I hate to say it, but you don’t look so good.” He put a hand on her forehead. “And I think you have a fever.”
Riley squeezed the hand. “Thanks for coming. And I’m so sorry about tonight. I was really looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” Paul replied. “But these things happen. We’ll fix another date as soon as I know my schedule. The main thing now is to get you better. I’m no doctor, but I believe you’re supposed to take some aspirin and drink gallons of Coke or Ginger Ale. I’ll get some from the store.”
“What do you think it is, something I’ve eaten?”
“Could be. In fact, most likely. Can you remember anything that might have been undercooked, like barbecued burgers?”
“Not offhand, but I’ll certainly be more careful in future—ouch!” Riley felt a stab of pain and got off the bed.
“I’ll get that Coke right now.”
Paul put an arm around her waist and helped her to the bathroom.
When he returned from the short walk to the store, Paul opened the front door as quietly as possible. He tiptoed to the bedroom in case Riley was asleep, but she was lying back on her pillow, staring into space.
“If I stay absolutely still,” she said, “nothing happens. It’s when I move that—”
Paul heard a faint gasp as he put a large bottle of Coke on the bedside table. “I know the feeling. The Coke should help but it could do with some ice. And do you have any aspirin?”
“There’s some in the bathroom.”
Paul dropped three ice cubes into a glass then collected the aspirin and returned to the bedroom.
“Now then, let’s sit you up very gently and get some of this stuff down.”
He put his arm around her again to ease her into a sitting position.
“I made it,” she said.
Paul felt a surge of affection as Riley smiled, albeit rather weakly. He passed the glass of Coke and two aspirins. As soon as she had washed them down, he returned the glass to the bedside table.
“I’m going to mess around in the kitchen if that’s all right. A cup of coffee would go down well, and I want to be sure you’re okay before I leave.”
“You don’t have to hang around if you’ve got things to do,” said Riley. “How about calling later this evening?”
“I’ll get that coffee,” said Paul.
The first time he’d seen the kitchen, which was a few days ago, Paul was amazed how spotless it was. He made a mental note to leave it as he found it and do something about his own.
It took a few minutes to brew the coffee. When he carried the steaming mug back to Riley’s room, he found she’d fallen asleep. She looked so young and vulnerable lying there. Sleep was obviously what she needed, so he sat in an old brown armchair by the window with his mug of coffee, quite unable to take his eyes off her. Eventually, he looked at his watch. It was time to leave, but not before writing a note. He got to his feet as quietly as possible and went in search of a sheet of paper. There was a pad by the phone, so he scribbled something to the effect that he had a few things to do and would be back towards dinner time. He left it on the bedside table.
Riley sensed that Paul was in the room before opening her eyes. Feeling secure, she took her time waking up. When she finally did so, she saw he had moved an upright wicker chair close to the bed and was leaning over her.
She stretched out a hand. He held it for a moment.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” said Riley. “How did you get in?”
“I noticed a key on the hook in the kitchen. It fitted the front door so I borrowed it.”
“Was I asleep for long?”
“Several hours. I don’t think you saw the note I left.” He held it up.
Riley glanced at it. “You’re a very thoughtful person.”
“Um…something just occurred to me. It’s almost five now and I’m a bit worried about leaving you on your own for the night. I’d sleep a lot better if I stayed over. Do you mind? I could use the sofa.”
Riley thought for a second. “I’d like that, but no sofa! Use the spare room. You’ll find sheets and blankets on the bed. You might as well be comfortable.”
Paul gave a short sigh of relief. “I was afraid you wouldn’t approve.”
“Why ever not? I trust you. I always have.” Riley raised herself on an elbow. “Oh, no! Not again!”
When she returned from the bathroom, Riley found a fresh glass of iced Coke on the bedside table with two more aspirins beside it. Paul was about to take his seat again.
“Actually, it wasn’t so bad this time. I think I can sit up.”
“I’ll give you a hand.”
Once Riley was settled against the pillows, she said, “Have you had something to eat? There are eggs, cheese and bread in the fridge if you’d like to make yourself an omelette. And I think there’s some beer.”
“Sounds great. Now then, let’s see if you’re still hot.” Paul felt her forehead. “About the same, I guess. But you seem a bit perkier.”
“Thanks to you.”
Riley felt a little better. She grabbed Paul’s hand while he was still within reach and held it against her cheek. Their eyes met. She hoped he got the message.
Riley rested while Paul had his omelette. She heard him washing the dishes, then he came back and sat on the bed.
“How was it?” she asked.
“Superb. Those eggs are amazing. Where did you get them?”
“From Doris. She keeps a few hens in her backyard.”
“That explains it.” Paul glanced at his watch. “There’s a good movie on TV. Do you mind if I watch it?”
“I wish I could join you, but…”
“I’ll close the door and keep the volume down. How about some more Coke?”
“I think water would be better.” If she leaned sideways a little, Riley was able to see her face in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door; she thought there was a little more color. “Perhaps I should try and eat something. Maybe a cracker, just one.”
“Back in a moment.”
The cracker was small. It went down easily enough with a few mouthfuls of water. Paul had already shut the door but Riley could just hear the TV. A feeling of lassitude began to creep over her body, so she switched off the bedside light. After a while, she turned on her side then drifted into a half-sleep.
Later, much later, she awoke with a start. Paul was sitting on the bed holding her hand. She could see by the light from the living room that his shirt was unbuttoned.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. “I heard you cry out.”
“I…I think…” Riley paused to gather her senses. “I think I had a nightmare. What time is it?”
“Just after three. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, thanks. Sorry I woke you.”
“No problem. Can I get you something?”
“I think I’ll just go back to sleep.”
Paul was still holding her hand so she gave his a squeeze.
“Thanks anyway,” she added. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Call if you need me.”
With that, he let go of her hand and left the room. Riley fell asleep again almost immediately.
The next thing she was aware of was Paul using the bathroom, then there were kitchen sounds. She got out of bed without thinking. Feeling a bit chilly, she put on her buff-colored housecoat. Then it hit her. She wasn’t queasy any more and the room wasn’t going round either. She had recovered. Her bare feet didn’t make a sound on the carpet as she headed for the kitchen and leaned against the doorjamb.
It was a few moments before Paul noticed her. “Hey! You startled me. Looks like you’re feeling better.”
“You bet. It’s marvelous what a long sleep will do.”
“I was about to bring you a cu
p of tea. Can you manage a cookie?”
“Good grief! Talk about service. And yes, I’d love several.”
“In that case, back to bed with you and I’ll bring it all in.”
Riley glanced out of the window on the way back to her room. The Mustang and Charlie’s loaner were still there, thank goodness, glistening wet from an overnight shower. She got into bed, wondering how to spend the day. The weather wasn’t good enough to sit outside, so reading and watching TV would have to do.
Paul brought in the teapot, mugs and cookies on a tray. He set it on the bedside table then sat on the bed again.
“I didn’t know if you took sugar,” he said, “but I guessed not.”
“You guessed right, although I do have a sweet tooth.”
“Me too. But about today. Do you think you’ll be okay on your own? I’m on the afternoon shift from two until ten. In some ways it’s worse than working nights. I’ve got quite a few things to do before that, which means I’ll have to leave fairly soon.”
“But you must have some breakfast,” said Riley. “I think I could manage to boil some eggs—oh dear, I forgot you had an omelette last night.”
“That’s okay. I’m fond of eggs, especially Doris’s.”
“Good. And I’ll have one too.”
After the meal, Paul had a shower then Riley persuaded him to stay for coffee. As a result, the morning was half over when they relaxed on the sofa several cups later. They both spoke at once.
“I—”
“I—”
“Sorry,” said Paul. “You go first.”
“I was going to make a pointless remark about the weather.”
“And I was going to ask you about your uncle, the guy who left you this house.”
“Well, it’s all a bit odd.” Riley went on to explain that Richard Bloombury had been her father’s best friend and her biological mother’s brother. He had disappeared in Scandinavia soon after the war. She then passed on what Doris had said about the strange woman who had been a regular visitor during the last weeks of his life.
“I’ve been wondering about her ever since,” Riley concluded. “All I came up with was some kind of health worker, or maybe a person who practices alternative medicine.”
“Very curious,” Paul commented. “But it’s time I was on my way.”
He hadn’t brought any overnight things with him, so they went straight to the front door. Riley opened it and they stood looking at each other, then she gave him a hug.
“I’m sorry the dinner didn’t work out but I’ll make it up to you. That’s a promise.”
“Perhaps we’ll have better luck next Saturday.”
“I hope so.” Riley drew back a little. “I’m not going to kiss you in case I had something infectious. It was very sweet of you to look after me and it means a lot.”
“And to me,” said Paul.
He walked out into the warm, gray morning, which, in fact, was almost afternoon.
Paul tossed and turned that Sunday night. He had called Riley before going to bed and she seemed almost completely recovered. Feeling quite relieved, he had arranged to stop by late on Monday morning. On reflection, he realized that the thought of seeing her again accounted for his restlessness, plus the problem of breaking some bad news about night shifts, which started on Monday evening.
As he drove slowly up Riley’s driveway, with the gravel crunching under the Mustang’s tires and a warm sun glinting through the trees, he knew she had changed his life dramatically. They didn’t know each other all that well, but her lively beauty and obvious affection had reached down into his inner self like no other girl he had known. In a word, he was her slave, but a slave that desperately wanted to be her lover.
Paul parked the Mustang behind Charlie Fudge’s Pontiac. Riley opened the front door before he had a chance to ring the bell. She was wearing a red sun top and beige shorts.
“You must be better,” said Paul. “You look fantastic.”
She didn’t say anything, just wrapped those smooth arms around his neck and kissed him until his emotions sang.
“I thought we could go for a stroll,” she said. “But before we do that, come in and put your feet up while I get coffee and cookies.”
“Where would we be without coffee,” Paul remarked as he followed her indoors. “Almost strangers, I guess.”
Riley took his hand. “Thank God for Colombia.”
Paul didn’t want to spoil this carefree atmosphere by breaking the bad news about the night shifts. Later would do.
Coffee together on the sofa was becoming more intimate on each occasion. This morning, they ended up in each other’s arms. Riley raised her mouth to be kissed while Paul fondled her bare shoulders. It was all he could do to prevent himself from going any further, but instinct told him to wait.
“Do you realize, Mr. Sutherland,” she said, extracting herself from his embrace, “do you realize we’ve hardly spoken to each other since you got here?”
“Can’t say I noticed,” Paul replied with a smile. “I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“Like what?”
“Like you, as if you didn’t know.”
Riley stood and pulled him to his feet. “I think we’d better go for that walk, because…”
Paul laughed. “Because what?” he asked.
She looked into his eyes. He’d noticed that Riley’s were blue some time ago, but it hadn’t registered until now. They seemed like large pools, inviting, ready to drown him. His desire to see and touch her beyond the pools of blue, beyond the lovely smile, was rapidly becoming an obsession.
“Because…well…we’ll see,” she said, and headed for the front door.
They walked hand in hand across the lawn toward the short path that led through the trees to the meadow.
“I have some bad news,” said Paul—he decided to get it over with. “I’m on nights ‘til the nineteenth. The last shift’s a week from Friday. It’s not really my turn, but people are on vacation at this time of year. The problem is, my seniority’s low.”
Riley kept on walking but her grip on his hand tightened. After a short pause, she swore. “Shit! This is the second time we’ve had to cancel our dinner.”
Paul kept quiet. There was nothing he could do except slip his arm around her waist.
When they reached the end of the lawn and started down the narrow path through the trees, she said, “We won’t go far because I’m still a bit wobbly. This takes us to the meadow. We’ll look at the view from the highest point, then come back along a different path. It starts near the boundary with the property next door.”
A few minutes later, they were gazing out across the grass to Conception Bay and Bell Island.
“The view’s better than from the house,” Paul commented. “But I’ve lost my bearings and can’t figure out where it is.”
“I’m not exactly sure either. But I think we can see it on our way back.”
They held hands again then strolled through the long grass, taking care not to tread on the odd blueberry bush.
“As soon as they’re ripe, I’ll have to get out and pick some,” said Riley. “I love them.”
“Me too,” said Paul. “There’s nowhere like Newfoundland for blueberries.”
They soon found themselves walking along another path that left the property boundary at the bottom of the sloping meadow. After a short distance, it swung back toward the house. They continued on through a small, cathedral-like copse of tall spruce trees growing in a rich, thick layer of soil. As soon as they emerged into an area where all the trees had been cut, Riley stopped.
“There’s the house, Paul. You can see the deck.”
But Paul wasn’t looking, he was bending down. After a few seconds, he picked up something shiny from a blueberry bush beside the path.
He passed it to Riley. “What do you make of this?”
“It’s an empty cartridge case from a rifle,” she said flatly. “And it’s the same size as the bul
let that hit the house. At least I think it is.” She looked at Paul. “If I’m right, it means that someone knew about this place and deliberately shot at Jean and me while we were on the deck. The first time I came along here was a week or two ago and its significance didn’t sink in. Otherwise I’d have mentioned it to John Kelly.”
“I wonder what he’ll say when he sees the cartridge case,” said Paul. “We’d better get back and give him a call.”
As they crossed the lawn, Paul announced that he ought to be leaving. After a long kiss, which had the inevitable effect on Riley’s knees, he got into the Mustang and headed slowly down the driveway.
Riley called the RCMP at once, but John Kelly wasn’t on duty. However, when the desk sergeant heard what Paul had found, he promised to direct the nearest patrol car to stop by and pick it up. A ballistics expert would examine it as soon as possible.
By now, Riley was feeling quite tired; it was a good time to relax with a book.
A few minutes after nine o’clock on the following morning, John Kelly called—he was on his way over. The weather was downright hot, even uncomfortable, so Riley opened all the windows in the house and sat on the deck to wait for the policeman. It was a perfect day for sunbathing on the lawn. Maybe she’d do just that when he’d gone. The prospect brought back memories of the incident with Jonathan, which reminded her that she hadn’t spoken with Jean for some time; she would call her soon.
Sergeant Kelly’s white and blue police car always seemed to overwhelm the driveway with its presence, but more so today since Charlie’s Pontiac was much smaller than the old wagon. Riley went over to the deck rail as soon as he got out of the cruiser.
Kelly raised a hand in greeting. “Warm enough for you, Riley?”
“Just like Toronto,” she replied. “Come in and have a cold drink while I fill you in about the cartridge case.”
They met at the front door.
“What’ll it be,” Riley continued, “Coke, or Ginger Ale?”
“Ginger Ale would be good.”
She Came From Away Page 11