At Risk

by Judith E. French

  Liz followed the woman’s directions. The nursing home was old and out-of-date, but appeared clean. Several orderlies pushed wheelchair-bound patients through the halls while others carried trays into rooms.

  At the top of the steps, an elderly gentleman in robe, pajamas, and slippers waddled past shouting for a Miss Jeanne. Liz smiled at him, but the filmy eyes he turned in her direction were vacant, and he didn’t seem to see her.

  “What’s for dinner?” a painfully thin black woman in a bad wig demanded. She wore a pink jogging outfit and orthopedic shoes, and edged forward hunched over a walker.

  “Salisbury steak and rice with green beans, Mrs. Roberts.” A gangling Hispanic youth with a wide smile removed a covered tray from a serving cart. “Orange Jell-O for dessert.”

  “Salisbury steak? Ain’t nothing but cheap hamburg. I’m sick of orange Jell-O. Why can’t we ever have lime? I like lime.”

  Liz pushed through the double doors. In spite of herself, her heart began to race. She wanted to turn away, go back down the steps, and go home. Why had she thought that coming here would help anything?

  “Liz?”

  She turned to see Crystal coming through a doorway marked Family Lounge. “Hey,” Liz answered. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming.”

  “I know. I know.” Crystal shrugged. “Dumb as you, I guess.”

  Crystal was thirty pounds heavier, and her hair was light brown rather than the unnatural white-blond that it had been the last time they’d seen each other. A pleasant-looking bald man in a black suit and striped tie followed her out of the room.

  “Liz.” Crystal hugged her. “You look great. This is my husband, Henry. Henry—my baby sister, Liz.”

  “How do you do?” Henry said formally. His voice held the hushed cadence of a funeral director, but his smile was genuine and his handshake firm. “Crystal has told me so much about you. I’m sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances.”

  Sensing his unspoken message, Liz glanced at Crystal.

  She nodded. “Patsy’s gone—slipped off right after we got here. Didn’t know me. At least I hope she didn’t. All she said was that I’d stolen her false teeth and she was going to have me arrested.” Crystal snickered. “She still had quite a mouth on her. Guess that’s where I get it.”

  Liz inhaled deeply. Dead. Her mother was dead. She waited, expecting to feel sadness, regret, but there wasn’t anything. “I came as soon as I could,” she said. “The first two flights to Dallas were full, and I—”

  “No matter,” Crystal said. “The old girl’s better off.” She shook her head. “She’d had a hard life, I expect. The nurse said that if she hadn’t died from heart trouble, the lung cancer would have gotten her within the month.”

  “Mrs. Clarke’s gone to a far better place,” Henry intoned. “She’s home with the Lord, and she’s left all pain and earthly cares behind.”

  “Yeah,” Crystal said. “Do you want to see her? We waited. Henry signed all the papers, but the doctor’s still here if you want to talk to her.”

  “How long has Mom been here?”

  Crystal looked at Henry. “Ten months?”

  “Yes, that’s what the nurse said. She was transferred here from a hospital in Dallas, and before that there was at least one more nursing home. No assets.”

  “Are there any . . . relatives? Friends?” Liz asked, wondering how her mother had slipped away without anyone to mourn her. “Anybody?”

  “No, I’m afraid not,” Henry answered. “I asked if anyone should be notified. The nurse said that Mrs. Clarke never had a visitor, a phone call, or a letter since she’s been here at Riverview.”

  “I think I’d like to see her, to say good-bye,” Liz said. She was dry-eyed. Whatever feelings she’d once possessed for the dead woman, none were left.

  “Not me. I’m done,” Crystal said. “Henry, you go in with her.”

  “Yes, dear.” He squeezed Crystal’s hand affectionately. Henry was shorter than her sister and perhaps ten years older, but neither of them seemed to notice or mind. Henry was clearly smitten by his new bride. And Crystal obviously doted on him.

  “No, thank you,” Liz said. “If you’ll just show me where M . . . where she is, I’d rather do this alone.”

  “Certainly,” Henry agreed, not in the least offended. “Perfectly natural.” He led her back through the family lounge and pointed to a closed door. “In there. Just push aside the curtain. She looks quite peaceful, much better than when she was alive.”

  Liz stepped through the doorway and shut the door behind her. The room was still except for the hum of an air conditioner. Her mother lay on clean sheets in a narrow bed. If Crystal and Henry hadn’t told her who the dead woman was, Liz would never have recognized her. Patsy Louise Clarke was in her early sixties, but looked twenty years older.

  Paper-thin, age-spotted skin stretched over sharp bones. Her hair was sparse and gray; her nails bitten or cut to the quick. She couldn’t have weighed more than eighty pounds, and she had once been a tall, attractive, full-breasted woman. Now all that was left of her was an empty shell.

  Liz took one of the bony white hands in hers. “Good-bye, Mom,” she whispered. “I forgive you.”

  A fly buzzed against the glass. The window air conditioner churned noisily as the compressor came on. The dead woman lay motionless, bloodless lips drawn back over artificially white false teeth.

  “I wish . . .” Liz began, then released her grip on the lifeless hand. A phrase of her dad’s came to mind. “Keep the wind at your back, Mom.”

  She waited for perhaps another five minutes, saying nothing more, simply standing there, before nodding and backing out of the room.

  “I told you it was a waste of time and money for you to come,” Crystal said.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Liz replied. “I got to see you, didn’t I? And I got to meet Henry.” She smiled at him. “I can’t thank you enough for—”

  “Not another word,” Henry said, beaming. “This is what I do. I console the living and give the dead a decent send-off.”

  “You have to let me share in the expense,” Liz offered. “There must be something I can—”

  “I told you,” Crystal said. “Henry has taken care of everything.”

  “Were you planning on staying or driving back to Dallas tonight?” Henry asked.

  “I have to get back. I have finals tomorrow. At the college.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Crystal told me you were a professor. Wonderful. And you’re young for such a position. I can see that beauty runs in the family.”

  Crystal blushed and giggled.

  The couple walked back to the rental car with Liz. “You have reservations on a flight back?” her sister asked.

  “Yes, it leaves at 2:45 a.m., straight through to Baltimore.”

  “Then you’ve plenty of time to have dinner with us,” Henry said. “No, no, my treat. I won’t hear of you leaving us without eating. They don’t feed you on the airlines anymore. Stale pretzels and tepid soda pop.”

  “Yes,” Crystal insisted. “Join us for dinner. We haven’t had a chance to talk.”

  “All right,” Liz said. “I’d like that.”

  “You must come to Arizona and visit us in happier times,” Henry said. “If you can’t afford the plane fare, I’ll take care of it. We really want you to come. I can’t wait to meet that new niece of mine. Katie? Crystal says she’s a charmer.”

  “Smart, too, just like her mother,” Crystal said. “We can see who got all the brains in the family.”

  “Now, I won’t have you putting yourself down,” Henry said. “I love you just the way you are.”

  Crystal smiled. “What did I tell you, sis? He’s just a big, cuddly teddy bear.”

  “And who’s my Mama Bear?” Henry cooed, hugging her.

  Crystal giggled. “Don’t worry any more about Patsy, sis.”

  “Absolutely not,” Henry agreed. “We’ll have a proper interment fo
r her. Pastor Bob is a Baptist. He does most of my services—unless you’d prefer another denomination.”

  “No,” Liz assured him. “Baptist will be fine, but I don’t know if she ever attended church, or even if she believed in God.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Henry said. “God believes in her. We’ll take care of it. Now, follow us. I understand there’s a wonderful Mexican restaurant about a mile from here. Do you like Mexican?”

  “Love it,” Liz replied.

  “Good,” Crystal said. “So do we.” She kissed Liz’s cheek. “It’s good to see you, baby doll. Don’t make it so long between phone calls next time.”

  “I won’t,” Liz said, and meant it.

  Liz arrived back at the farm at quarter of nine Monday morning, showered, dressed, and hurried to school. She’d slept on the plane, but it hadn’t been enough, and she needed two cups of coffee and a donut to feel nearly human. The day of finals was hectic, but a good kind of hectic. The energy and excitement of the students was contagious, and she found herself rediscovering how much she loved teaching.

  Somehow, it was mid-afternoon before she realized that she hadn’t bothered to check her office e-mail or voice mail. There was a call from Jack saying he would be out of town until the following weekend, and two messages from Michael, asking if there was anything he could do. She wondered what could take Jack away at the busiest time of the year for fishermen, and why he hadn’t said where he was going.

  She didn’t see Cameron all day, but she did pass Nancy Steiner in the hall, and the professor made a point of snubbing her. There was a note in her in box from Dean Pollett asking her to make an appointment to see him. Liz ignored it. She had no intention of discussing the matter of Cameron’s stalking until she could locate and hire an attorney.

  The week passed without incident, other than a call from Crystal telling her that the funeral had gone off without a hitch. They’d spent a few minutes chatting, and Crystal had repeated her invitation for Liz to come out to visit. Liz made excuses but promised she’d try to come for Thanksgiving. Although she was sure that she and Crystal would never be best friends, it was good to know that her sister had a real life and cared about her.

  School was equally uneventful. Dean Pollett, apparently caught up in the rush of the last week of the session, failed to contact her a second time. Liz had lunch with Michael on Tuesday, and with Sydney and Amelia on Wednesday and Thursday. By Thursday afternoon, Cameron’s absence had become an object of speculation.

  “Where could he be?” Sydney said as she dumped an armload of papers into the trash. “Nancy’s face is screwed up like a shriveled prune, and it’d cost your life to say ‘good morning’ to her.”

  “Cameron’s desk is bare,” Liz said. “I’d check the drawers, but that would be stooping to his level.”

  “I haven’t heard a word,” Amelia said. “My sources are as much a blank as we are.”

  “You’d think that Dean Pollett would say something to me if he’s been dismissed,” Liz said. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “I doubt it,” Sydney said. “It might mean apologizing to you. I’d hold off on finding an attorney, if I were you. Why spend the money if the little rat has already gotten his just deserts?” She picked up her briefcase. “Sorry, you two. I’d love to stay, but Bob and I are driving to Connecticut first thing in the morning, and I’m not packed. Bob’s nephew is graduating from a prep school. Surprised me. I never thought he’d make it. It goes to show that if the tuition is high enough, anyone can succeed.”

  “Me too,” Amelia said. “Have to run. I have an appointment with the unhappy parent of a freshman who didn’t succeed, and then I’m meeting Thomas. We’re going to Christiana Mall to pick up something for his Aunt Charlotte’s birthday, and then on to an early dinner with her and her two sons and their wives. Thomas is driving back to Norfolk in the morning, and I’m following tomorrow evening. I’ve got one more class tomorrow afternoon.”

  “You’re shutting the house and staying for the summer?” Sydney asked.

  “I am. You know how nervous I’ve been the past week. I am ready for vacation. Sun, sand, and catching up on my reading.”

  “Amen to that,” Liz agreed.

  “Anything I can help you ladies with?” Ernie Baker asked.

  Liz turned to see the security guard standing just inside Sydney’s office. She wondered how long he’d been there and how much of their conversation he’d overheard.

  “No, thank you,” Sydney said. “I’m just about to lock up. You have a good summer, Ernie.”

  “Glad to carry anything to the car for you,” he said, not budging.

  “We’ve got it covered,” Liz said.

  Ernie flushed. “Just call if you need help.”

  “Good-bye, Ernie,” Amelia said. And, after the door closed behind him, she grimaced and whispered, “He really does give me the creeps.”

  Sydney laughed. “He admires your boobs.” She glanced down at her own fashionably flat chest and narrow hips. “Me? I’m not even in the running.”

  Liz smiled. “The gospel according to Ms. Size Two. I’d give anything to have your figure.”

  “But would you give up Ernie?” Sydney teased. “You know, it wasn’t my books he wanted to carry. It was a chance to leer at two size 36C’s in the same room.”

  “If he wanted to see flesh, he’d be smarter to stay in the halls,” Amelia said. “I thought one of the girls in my last class had walked out of her dorm in her thong panties, but they were just short shorts. Very short.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Sydney said. “And you didn’t wear them like that yourself in college?”

  “Not me,” Liz replied. “I was the girl in the back row in her Sesame Street pj’s and yellow fuzzy slippers.”

  “Or me,” Amelia said. “That was my serious period—wire-rim glasses, black skirts, white blouses starched and pressed, sensible shoes. The intellectual black girl with strong opinions and a chip on her shoulder.”

  “As opposed to?” Sydney chuckled. “The marshmallow we know and love today?”

  Amelia laughed with them. “You’ve been talking to Thomas. He swears I should have studied law. I believe he’s insinuating that I’m opinionated.”

  “Amen to that,” Liz agreed. She glanced at her watch. “Got to go. I’ve got an appointment to see a breeder about a puppy.”

  “You’re getting a dog?” Amelia asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Liz admitted. “A Newfoundland, if you can believe it. Having Michael’s German shepherd around was good, until . . .” She left the rest of the sentence unfinished, but both of her friends knew what had happened to Heidi. “Anyway . . .” She sighed. “I’m getting the biggest dog I can fit in my car. I’ve been reading up on Newfs, and they’re supposed to be sweet-natured.”

  “What will they do, lick a burglar to death?” Sydney asked.

  “Maybe,” Liz said. “But just the same, after everything, I think I’ll sleep better with a very large friend beside my bed.”

  “What about in it?” Amelia asked. “I know a certain retired policeman who’d be quite happy to fill that empty spot in your bed.”

  “Are we talking about Michael?” Sydney chimed in.

  “I take the Fifth,” Liz answered.

  “I hear you, girl,” Amelia said. “But I, for one, won’t be surprised if I hear there are wedding bells in your future, and sooner rather than later.”

  “It is a distinct possibility,” Liz said, “but a woman reserves the right to change her mind.”

  “Just don’t wait too long,” Sydney advised. “And don’t let Jack Rafferty complicate your decision. He’s definitely not in your league. When it comes to a choice between Captain Hubbard and Rafferty, there’s no choice at all.”

  “Maybe not,” Liz said.

  “No maybes about it,” Amelia agreed. “He’s nothing but trouble, and you owe it to yourself to stay as far from him as possible. He may be good in bed, but it’s what he does the other twenty-three
and a half hours in the day that matters.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amelia felt the tension in her neck and shoulders drain away as she followed Route 13 south through the small Virginia towns that hugged the main four-lane highway. Traffic was moderate, occasionally clogged by tractors or logging trucks crossing the intersections, but the flat rural countryside and good road made for easy, if somewhat monotonous, driving.

  Not wanting to get a ticket, Amelia kept her speed to an even eight miles above the limit. The convertible top was down, the air warm and balmy. The stress of the murder at Somerville, the nasty e-mails, and the scare at the house faded. Amelia’s thoughts fixed on the coming evening with Thomas, the bottle of California merlot tucked into her large canvas bag, and sleeping late tomorrow morning to the music of waves on the beach.

  The girls wouldn’t be arriving for another week, and she’d have those precious hours of sun and sand to unwind. Actually, Thomas had said that the forecast called for rain. She didn’t mind; there was nothing quite as decadent as lounging in silk pajamas with a good book and a bowl of fresh strawberries on a stormy day.

  She’d begged Liz to come down this weekend, but now with the rush of preparations behind her, she was secretly glad that she and Thomas would have the privacy to really relax, perhaps even engage in a little unscheduled and uninhibited sex.

  Thomas was a wonderful husband, he really was, and she’d never been unhappy in her choice of men. But now and then she enjoyed a bit more vigorous intimacy. There was nowhere that Thomas was more likely to let down his hair than at the beach. If she donned her new red Victoria’s Secret lingerie and poured her anal retentive husband a few stiff martinis, anything could happen.

  Twilight was fading into purple dusk as Amelia slowed to pay the toll for the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, a whopping ten dollars, one way. She glanced at her watch, barely able to make out the numerals. If there were no delays, she’d be at the house an hour before she’d told Thomas to expect her. He would have already eaten, but she knew he’d have a large shrimp cocktail and a small Caesar salad waiting in the refrigerator for her. She’d skipped lunch; too much to do. She’d had to pack, arrange for the mail to be forwarded, prepay the yard people, and close up the house. Why was it that men always managed to evade the domestic chores?