Imperfect Daddy

by Gregg E. Brickman

  Kerri's conversation continued along the same lines for a while, then she asked me questions about nursing, covering much of the same territory we covered in Parkview. I suggested she consider a South Florida college. That way I could give her a hand with her studies and with finding a nursing assistant job while she was in school. By the time we signed off—a persistent call-waiting beep kept interrupting us—her crying had subsided. At least, I'd contributed something positive to the situation.

  I depressed the switch hook. It was Connie.

  "Hey, girl," she said when I answered. "Dick told me about Ray's ex-wife. How's he doing?" I imagined Connie sitting at the nurses' station on the Pediatric Unit. The area duplicated the motif of the Pediatric Emergency Room. Paintings of fish, starfish, sea urchins, sea horses, and octopi covered the walls, creating a virtual cross section of the ocean, including a coral reef and kelp bed. A huge aquarium brimming with saltwater fish filled the wall at the end of the hall.

  "I'm not sure. He looked at the paper. Just looked—I don't believe he read it—and slunk out to stroke his car. I think he's waxing it at the moment, but in any event he's working up a sweat and seems lost in thought."

  "You letting him stay with you?"

  "We made up."

  "I wasn't talking about that. Dick said Ray's on the top of the list in the ex-wife's disappearance."

  "I don't believe he's involved, not for a second." I explained his timetable to her. "Besides, I have faith in him."

  "Ray has a temper. You told me yourself. Maybe, just maybe—I'm not suggesting anything—maybe he lost his temper. Ray and his ex-wife may have had a fight. People who used to be married to each other fight all the time."

  "Connie, what did you do? Call from work to harass me?" I retorted, wishing I could slam the cordless phone into its cradle. Short of throwing it across the room, there is no way to end a conversation in a dramatic fashion.

  "No, Sophia. I'm sorry," Connie said. "Like usual, I'm carried away with the drama."

  "Why did you call me anyway?" I was impatient with her and didn't care if she knew it. Connie was interested in my welfare, but sometimes she was like a meddling old lady. I waited for her answer without saying any more. She told me Amber took a turn for the worse.

  Deciding to see for myself, I slipped into a pair of jeans and my Nurses Call the Shots tee shirt, kissed Ray good-bye, and hurried to the hospital.

  22

  Dick and Kathleen sat at Amber's bedside in a small room within the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. That particular room had octopi sporting happy faces painted on the walls in soft pastels. I thought the décor appropriate—all those sticky tentacles trying to ensnare Kathleen's dream.

  After giving hugs and cheek-kisses, I said, "Connie called and said Amber is having a bad time."

  Deep furrows creased Kathleen's usually smooth brow. She said, "The surgeon thinks Amber has internal injuries that were missed on the initial exams."

  "Not good," I said. "Where's Mikey?"

  Dick pointed down the hall. "He slept in an empty room, and now he's in the playroom. We came back from breakfast a while ago."

  I went to the desk, glanced around to be sure the staff was occupied, and selected Amber's chart from the rack. The nurses in PICU knew me and would not have questioned my interest, but the hospital's confidentiality policy forbade staff members from reviewing charts when they weren't involved in the patient's care.

  Amber's temperature had spiked to 104 degrees, prompting the move into PICU. An abdominal abscess ruptured, leading to peritonitis and sepsis. The lining of her abdominal cavity was infected and inflamed, and the infection had gone into her blood stream, traveling through her small body. A potentially fatal situation.

  I returned to Amber's room with the chart still in hand. "What's her temp now?" I asked Kathleen.

  "One hundred four, one hundred five." Dick answered for her. He glanced in his wife's direction. "She's been here all night and can hardly move." Kathleen was pale and droopy. Her sluggish, uncoordinated movements signaled an exacerbation of her MS.

  "Dick, you need to take her home. Make her go." I stared at him to make the point.

  He stroked his beard, gazing off in space. "I know, I know." Dick had dark circles under his eyes and fatigue ingrained on his features.

  Amber slept quietly. She was flushed with fever and perspiring slightly, the outline of her thin frame visible through the light sheet covering her. I reached over the side rail and touched her belly. It was rigid. My touch awakened her. I expected her to cry out, but she didn't. She just looked at me, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

  "Hurts a lot, huh?"

  "Yes, Miss Sophia."

  "The doctors will help you." My eyes roamed the room, and I checked the label on each IV and noted the pattern on the cardiac monitor. Everything appeared copacetic. Returning my attention to her face, I continued, "Mister Dick needs to take Miss Kathleen home to rest."

  "Yes, Miss Sophia." She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

  I told Dick to take Kathleen home and left the room, promising myself I'd mind my own business, knowing I wouldn't. My next stop was the general Pediatric Unit. Connie was on duty.

  "What are you doing here?" Connie asked when she saw me. "I thought you were standing by your man."

  "My man has a hose in his hand at the moment. If I stand too close, I'll get wet."

  She frowned.

  I dropped into the chair next to her and said, "Kathleen and I talked yesterday. She's not saying much. I think she's worked herself into a full flare-up of her disease. Have Dick and Kathleen heard anything about being Amber's foster parents?"

  "As a matter of fact, they did. She said Captain García took Dick off the case and gave him permission to make the application. They are planning to go downtown on Monday morning," she glanced at the calendar, "tomorrow, to meet with the social worker. I don't think there's any doubt Dick and Kathleen will get her, if she pulls through. I talked to the social worker yesterday when she visited. She asked all sorts of questions about how Amber acted when Dick and Kathleen visited."

  "Oh," I said, interested. "What did you tell her?"

  "The truth. Amber is delighted to see them, calls them Miss Kathleen and Mister Dick. Amber told me yesterday she wanted them to be her new mommy and daddy. She said Dick promised he would never let anything bad happen to her."

  "That's a tall order."

  "Yes, I know." Connie didn't say anything for a few moments.

  "Poor child. She looks at life in terms of who will or will not hurt her."

  23

  Ray's car gleamed in the driveway. The hose, bucket, sponges, and various chemicals were scattered about, signaling he hadn't quite finished. The summer heat was oppressive without a breath of breeze.

  I found him in the kitchen, looking pale with his cell phone in hand. "What happened?" I asked as I put a hand on his chest and stood on my tiptoes, stretching to plant a kiss on his cheek.

  "That was my dad. Chief Ervin just left the house. Old man Whittaker found Elaine's car on a deserted side road about halfway up the mountain." He laid the phone on the counter and sank onto one of the stools.

  I put my arms on his shoulders, ignoring the sticky sensation of drying sweat. "Did they find anything?" I rubbed his bare shoulders, trying to provide comfort.

  "No. Her keys and purse weren't there, and even the sweater she kept in the trunk was gone."

  "Sounds like she went willingly."

  "It does. Ervin thinks that's further proof I'm involved."

  "Ridiculous."

  "That's what my mother, father, and kids told him. But then the nosey neighbors—"

  "The Wilsons?"

  ". . . told Ervin that Elaine and I were sitting on the swing in the back looking all cozy the other night. That was all he had to hear."

  "Ray, you can't blame them. I thought the same thing Monday night." I considered pointing out the kiss would have looked suspici
ous to anyone. "What's with the Wilsons anyway?"

  "Nothing. Just old folks who have nothing better to do than to watch out the window all the time. They were even like that when I was growing up. I couldn't get away with anything . . . have a beer . . . sneak a smoke. If they saw, they told."

  "What happens now?"

  "I expect the chief will be calling later and demanding I come to Virginia. My family, everyone including Branden and Kerri, wants me to stay here. They know I didn't hurt Elaine and don't want Ervin to get his hands on me."

  Thinking about Elaine and Ervin's relationship, I said, "Maybe he's a shunned lover. That's motive. What better time to get revenge? An ex-boyfriend is on the loose, and an ex-husband is in town. Maybe Ervin should look in the mirror for a suspect." I raised my hands to emphasize my words.

  "Maybe he should." Ray punched a number into his cell phone. "I'd better fill García in on what's happening. He doesn't like surprises." Ray moved into the den, closing the door behind him.

  24

  The remainder of Sunday passed without any word about Elaine's whereabouts. We hung out at home, worked in the yard, and acted domestic. Ray didn't mention his conversation with his captain. I didn't ask.

  Later in the evening, we settled in front of the television. I picked up the remote. "What do you want to watch?"

  "You, I think." He put a long arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, dog and all. The smell of Ray's Nautica—it was more like Erotica—filled our space. He ran a finger through my hair, stopping at my jaw line. "I love your silky hair." He tilted my face toward his and moved closer. "I love your face." His fingers glided over my face and down to my lips. "I love you."

  There was no television programming of interest. On Monday morning, he left for work at the crack-of-damn-dawn as usual.

  The ringing of the telephone jolted me out of sleep. I liked to start a day off by sleeping in, and with a three-day, twelve-hour schedule, I had plenty of opportunity. It worked well for us. Ray rose early, stayed up late, and needed less sleep. I, on the other hand, required a lot of rest. My late mornings offset the days I had to roll out before six.

  "Sophi," Ray's smooth bass voice flowed over the line, "I forgot. It's Dick's birthday today. He wants to know if you can go over later and help Kathleen get things going. She's stressed over Amber and feels weak. He's concerned about her doing too much."

  "I take it you told them we're coming." I knew I sounded groggy. My mouth felt full of cotton.

  "Of course. Besides, we have to do something other than sit home and worry."

  "Oh Lord, let me wake up." I sat on the side of the bed. Sunshine climbed off his pillow and butted his fuzzy head against my rib cage. Obediently, I rubbed his ears while gathering my senses. "What time is dinner?"

  "Dick thinks about six if that works for us. We're the only guests."

  "Fine. I don't want to stay late anyway." I stood and nudged Sunshine off the bed. "I'll give Kathleen a call in a few minutes."

  "Everything else okay?" he asked, sounding concerned.

  "Sure. Why would you ask?"

  "Just askin', that's all."

  "Have you heard more about where Pyle is this morning? I mean, you're where you can talk to people face to face." I knew something was on his mind.

  "Ervin's man, McCormick, called this morning. The chief wants me in Virginia. García told me to stay here, which is my intention anyway. Mac said he confirmed the reports of Pyle being in Parkview. He was sighted going into the equipment rental store his brother Donny owns, and later someone thought they saw him in Amy Lynn Durant's car."

  "Durant. She's the trashy one your mother told me about—the one who stirred up the old stories about Elaine."

  "That'd be Amy Lynn." Ray sounded southern.

  "Do you think Pyle had anything to do with Elaine's disappearance?"

  "I'd guess yes, but yesterday Ervin said he doesn't think so. He said he can't connect Pyle to Elaine. Ervin also reminded me that Elaine and Pyle evidently didn't hold any bad feelings for one another since she visited him in prison and all."

  "What about the phone calls?"

  "Ervin didn't give them any credence. He thinks Pyle was looking for a friendly woman and when Elaine wasn't interested, Pyle latched onto Amy Lynn Durant."

  "Where is Pyle now?"

  "Don't know. He was sighted those two times and hasn't been seen since."

  "So?"

  "The manhunt continues. It's now been broadened to include Tennessee, Kentucky, and the rest of Virginia."

  He was silent for a minute. Perhaps he was considering what would happen if authorities never caught Pile. My mind was elsewhere. I was thinking petty thoughts. "Did you really date her in high school?"

  "Huh? Who?" I'd caught him off guard.

  "Amy Lynn Durant."

  "Everyone dated Amy Lynn in high school. I mean everyone. Hang on." I heard someone talking to Ray in the background. He came back on the line. "Sophi, I gotta go. Let me know what's going on later."

  We said our brief good-byes. I called Kathleen to say I was coming, then showered and dressed in khaki Dockers and a black tee. I'd be busy in the kitchen all day and wanted to be as washable as possible without having to change clothes before dinner.

  An hour later, I parked in front of the condo. Sunshine hopped out of the front seat of my Mini Cooper and ran to Kathleen's door. He appeared to remember the building. I didn't know if he expected to see Ray or recalled it was Mikey's house.

  The door burst open, and Mikey grabbed the dog. "Mommy, Mommy," he yelled, his voice shrill and piercing, "Sophia brought Sunshine. Can I take him for a walk? Please, please, please."

  The stroll along the boulevard took about ten minutes. I let Mikey hold the leash most of the way, and the dog cooperated by staying on the sidewalk and nailing a few trees to let the kid know he appreciated the outing. He shied away from the road once when a nondescript blue Ford pulled next to the curb and stopped.

  Glare obscured the driver's features, but he was medium-sized and wore a baseball cap and dark glasses. I swore he stared at Kathleen's condo. It was eerie. I felt him looking at Mikey and me, then he shook his head as if he was confused or had a headache. I filed his description in the back of my head and pushed aside the creepy sensation, attributing it to frayed nerves and hyperactive imaginosis, a disease afflicting former police officers.

  When the three of us paraded into the apartment, I was surprised to find Kathleen still in her robe sitting in the recliner. "Kathleen," I said after I closed the door, "you look bushed. What can I do to help?"

  "You already have. Mikey doesn't understand when I get weak. He knows I have trouble on some days, but he doesn't make the connection."

  I sat on the edge of the sofa. Sunshine had followed Mikey into the bedroom. We were alone. "It's a concern."

  "I'll feel better in a couple of days. It's been a lot lately with Amber sick and work and all."

  "How is Amber?" I knew from experience she had closed the discussion of her health.

  "When we left the hospital last night she was improving. Her fever broke around nine, and she perked up. She'll wonder where I am if I can't get there today."

  "Well, dear, you can't get there today. I'll call Connie and ask her to go in and talk to Amber. At least she'll know you were thinking about her."

  "I guess I have no choice." Kathleen sounded like she barely had the strength to talk. I intended to keep her resting while I worked in the kitchen.

  We chatted a bit. I left her in the living room while I began the preparation for the evening's dinner party. It was almost one o'clock, and I needed to get moving. As expected, the groundwork for the party was underway. Kathleen paced her activities to allow for her varying strength, and Dick helped with almost everything. They often readied things in advance, when she felt strongest, to avoid having problems on her weaker days.

  In the cold oven, I found the chocolate cake baked, and after rummaging around in the cabinets, I
discovered two containers of prepared frosting. Finishing the cake was as good a place to start as any. I found a decorating tube and fancy tips in the cabinet over the microwave. After I edged the bottom with a ribbon of blue, I fashioned droopy blue flowers and distinctively shaped green leaves on the top. I wrote Happy Birthday Dick in thick white letters that looked pretty against the dark chocolate frosting. The dollop I licked off my finger tasted rich and sweet. The cake would be a success, and the men would never realize the luscious topping came out of a can—they never did. I set the spatula aside for Mikey to lick.

  In the refrigerator's vegetable drawer, cut lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, and cucumbers stretched the limits of a zippered bag. A covered bowl of diced onion and celery seemed destined for the chicken's stuffing. That was next on my list. While I worked, stopping only to give Mikey a snack, Kathleen slept. I hoped she'd feel stronger by late afternoon and would enjoy the celebration.

  Later, while I was helping Kathleen out of the recliner and into the bathroom, Connie called. Amber's fever spiked again, and the doctors adjusted her antibiotics. Connie reassured us Amber was holding her own and understood the reason for Kathleen's absence.

  I smoothed an ankle-length, daisy yellow, column dress over Kathleen's shoulders and back and wondered about the poor, abused little girl's response. I suspected she pretended to understand everything asked of her in a valiant effort to please all of the adults around her and avoid further abuse.

  Kathleen fumbled with tying the matching ribbon around her ponytail. She finally accepted my assistance. I planted her in her earth-colored chair to wait for the men. After checking on Mikey and Sunshine—they had fallen asleep head-to-head on the child's bed—I prepared the coup de grâce for dinner, the homemade ice cream to accompany the cake.

  Ray let himself in the front door a few minutes before six. "Dick will be home in ten minutes or so," he said to Kathleen. Ray kissed me hello and took the carving knife and fork from my hands. "Ready to do this?" When I nodded, he made the first slice.