Fort Point (Maine Justice Book 2)

by Davis, Susan Page

  “So we should have them soon.”

  “I guess.” He knew he couldn’t leave it there.

  They were only a quarter mile from Carl’s house. Harvey glanced at his watch. They had fifteen minutes, and he pulled over to the curb and took off his glasses.

  “Jenny.”

  She turned and looked at him.

  He said, “I’m not very good at this. I’m sorry.”

  She came into his arms, street or no street. Her eyes glistened with tears. He kissed her. “Maybe we should quit by the time I’m fifty? We could have three or four kids by then.”

  She smiled and turned his face to the side and kissed the corner of his eye. He knew she was kissing the wrinkles. She said, “You’ve waited a long time.”

  He should be calm now, but his stomach was churning. “Look, I told you about Carrie.”

  She nodded, apprehension clouding her eyes. “She didn’t want kids.”

  “It was more than that.” He sat still for a moment. Why inflict needless pain on Jennifer?

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “There, uh. . .there was a baby. Would’ve been a baby.”

  Jennifer said slowly, “Carrie was pregnant?”

  He nodded. “She didn’t want it.”

  Jennifer caught her breath.

  “She didn’t tell me ’til after. I didn’t know if I could forgive that.”

  “Oh, Harvey!” Jennifer put her arms around him and pulled his head down on her shoulder.

  After a minute, he pulled in a deep breath and sat up. “I don’t want to make you all sad and weepy. We’ll have fun with Carl and Margaret. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, Pastor Rowland’s right. We need to talk about it.”

  “Later, then. My timing’s lousy.”

  “Can we pray?” Jennifer asked. “Do we have time?”

  “Okay.”

  Harvey closed his eyes.

  “Dear Father, please help us with this,” Jennifer said softly. “Please take away Harvey’s hurt and his feelings of guilt. And please bless that baby. Amen.”

  Harvey dashed away a tear. “Amen.” He didn’t trust himself to say any more.

  Jennifer found a tissue in her purse and handed it to him.

  “Thank you. You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. We can ask the pastor about this at our next class.”

  He nodded. Jennifer kissed his cheek and they drove on to Carl and Margaret’s.

  Eight-year-old Julia Turner was riding a scooter in the driveway, and she greeted them enthusiastically and escorted them through the open garage, into the kitchen.

  “Mommy, Harvey and Goldilocks are here!”

  Jennifer faced him with arched brows.

  “Don’t look at me,” Harvey said. “Carl has a way …”

  Margaret was coming to meet them with a huge smile. She’d had her dark hair cut short since Harvey had seen her, and she wore a white apron over her pink sundress.

  “Jennifer! At last I meet Harvey’s bride-to-be!” She kissed Jennifer on the cheek. “Carl described you to a T.”

  “Where is the galoot?” Harvey asked.

  “In the back yard, grilling steaks.” She took them through to the family room, where she opened the patio door for Harvey, and he stepped out onto flagstones surrounded by lilies and foxglove in bloom.

  “Harvey!” Carl was manfully dealing with the grill. “Where’s the gorgeous blonde?”

  Harvey looked behind him and realized Jennifer had stayed inside. “I guess Margaret kidnapped her.”

  “You’re looking good. Feeling okay?” Carl asked.

  “Yeah, I think I’m back to about 98 percent. Maybe you could take a listen to my lung?”

  “Sure.” Carl went inside immediately and returned with a stethoscope. He listened, and Harvey breathed. “Sounds good. Any problems?”

  “No, just a little twinge the first time I ran.”

  “That will go away. You should be all set to face married life.”

  Harvey smiled. “If we just get through the wedding, I think the rest will be easy.”

  “Got the jitters?”

  “Not me so much as Jenny. Everything’s got to be perfect.”

  “Really? She didn’t strike me that way.” Carl laid down the stethoscope and went back to the grill.

  “She’s not exactly a perfectionist.” Harvey tried to clarify it in his mind. “Maybe it’s just that she’s afraid something will be wrong, not that it has to be right. It didn’t seem as though it took this much work to get married the first time.”

  “I’m guessing Carrie’s mother took charge, and you didn’t have to lift a finger.”

  Margaret, Jennifer and Julia came through the patio door carrying dishes of salad and a pitcher of fruit juice.

  “Harvey, you look happier than I’ve ever seen you,” said Margaret.

  “I take that as a compliment.”

  “It is. I’ve been wanting to meet Jennifer. She seems like a good match for you.”

  Jennifer looked as though she wished Margaret wasn’t talking about her when she was right there.

  Harvey said, “I didn’t know if I’d ever find the right woman, but here she is.” He slid his arm around Jennifer, and she smiled.

  Carl brought the platter of meat over, and they all sat down. They started serving the food, so Harvey didn’t say anything. Jennifer looked at him, then took some potato salad and passed it on. They’d been praying over their meals for a month, and it already felt strange not to do it.

  “So what are the honeymoon plans?” Margaret asked.

  “Big secret,” Harvey said.

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Jennifer doesn’t even know yet.”

  “Oh, all right.”

  “Where do doctors vacation?” he asked.

  “We’re going to Japan in August,” said Carl.

  “Whew.” Harvey was impressed. Jennifer had an out-of-my-league look. He said, “Jennifer’s asked for a passport renewal. I’m waiting for it to come in before I buy the tickets.”

  “Don’t cut it too close, or you’ll pay more,” said Margaret.

  “Ever been out of the country?” Carl asked Jennifer.

  “Just to the Maritimes.”

  “So, this should be an adventure.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait,” Jennifer said. Then she looked confused and started blushing.

  “Will you send me a stamp?” asked Julia.

  “Of course,” Harvey said. Stamp collecting was a recently acquired hobby for Julia.

  “Are you working, Jennifer?” asked Margaret.

  “Yes, at the police station, in the records department. I’ve only been there two weeks.”

  “Oh, so you didn’t meet at work, then?”

  Jennifer looked at Harvey. He smiled, to encourage her to tell the story herself. After a second she said, “Harvey and his partner came to the place I used to work on business.”

  “He told me about that,” said Carl. “Wasn’t it when that fellow was murdered?”

  Jennifer winced, and Harvey said quickly, “Yeah, but we didn’t know he’d been murdered then. He was missing, and it turned out Jennifer was the last person to see him. Well, the last one to admit it, that is.”

  “That must have been horrible,” said Margaret.

  Harvey was afraid Jennifer was too rattled to keep her composure, but she managed a weak smile and said, “So, how did you two meet?”

  “In med school.”

  Carl grinned. “Margaret was at the top of the class. We men were so mad that a woman was outdoing us, we all tried to sabotage her. Then I started rooting for her. I figured a mind like hers in a body like that was not something I wanted to see sabotaged.”

  Margaret laughed. “He ended up with the top honors at graduation. I was second.”

  Harvey was glad they were safely off the subject of the murder, which was still fresh in Jennifer’s mind. “That’s the kind of doctor I w
ant,” he said. “not some guy who passed anatomy with a D minus.”

  “You have a family practice?” asked Jennifer.

  Margaret said, “Carl’s is family practice. We share an office. I’m in OB-GYN.”

  “That reminds me,” Harvey said. “Jennifer’s going on my insurance at work in a couple of weeks. She’s a temporary employee, and I guess the HMO covers her now. But she needs a primary care doctor.”

  “Who’s your doctor, Jennifer?” Margaret asked.

  “Dr. Marks, but I don’t like him.”

  “Keith Marks? I know him,” said Carl. “I don’t think he’s in your HMO, Harvey. You’d have to check to be sure.”

  Jennifer blushed. “I don’t have anything against him personally, I just don’t feel comfortable with him. He’s the doctor my old company recommended when I first came here, and I never took the initiative to change.”

  “He’s not a bosom buddy of mine,” said Carl.

  “So you don’t have to like him,” Margaret said with a wink.

  Harvey said, “Why don’t you put Carl down for your PCP, and he can refer you to Margaret for girl stuff.”

  “Girl stuff!” Margaret’s voice dripped acid. “You are such a chauvinist.”

  “Am not.”

  “They never admit it,” she said knowingly to Jennifer.

  Jennifer smiled a little. “I think I’d like having a female doctor.”

  “Daddy, may I please have more potato salad?” Julia piped up. She’d been quiet, listening to the conversation.

  “What are you doing this summer, Julia?” Harvey asked.

  She started telling him about an upcoming bike rodeo. In the background, he heard Jennifer say quietly to Margaret, “I made an appointment with Dr. Marks for a checkup before the wedding, but I’m sort of nervous about it. Do you think I could switch that quickly?”

  “When’s the wedding?” Margaret asked. “July seventeenth? Sure. Call my office tomorrow. I’ll make sure we get you in. Kristy will tell you I’m not taking new patients, but tell her I’ve approved it personally. I’ll have her request a referral from Keith Marks. Unless you want to switch to Carl? Don’t feel you have to, just because Harvey suggested it.”

  There was quite a pause. Julia said, “And then you ride zigzag, in and out, around these red cone thingies, and if you don’t hit any, you get a prize.”

  “I’ll bet you’ll get one.” He looked over at Jennifer. She was looking at Carl. Harvey asked Julia, “What happens if you hit one?”

  Jennifer said to Margaret, “I’m not sure. Your husband is so … well … gregarious.”

  Margaret laughed. “He is that. Stay with Marks if you want. Or find somebody else.”

  Jennifer said something Harvey couldn’t hear, because Julia was now imitating the siren of the ambulance that would come for her if she fell off her bike.

  The next thing he heard in the women’s conversation was Margaret whooping, “Not really! Skowhegan Area High School! What year?” It turned out Margaret had grown up in Canaan, a little town in the same school district as Skowhegan. Of course, she had graduated 15 years before Jennifer, but they soon discovered some mutual acquaintances, including one English teacher they had both studied under, and they knew the same cheers for the Skowhegan Indians.

  Carl nodded toward them and said to Harvey, “Thought they’d hit it off.”

  Harvey said quietly, “Jenny was a little apprehensive about the generation gap.”

  “You wouldn’t be marrying an adolescent.”

  Harvey smiled. “Most of the time, she makes me forget the age difference.”

  “Well, you look like the cat with cream on his whiskers. She must be taking care of you.”

  “She’s the best.”

  “Hey, you two, are you going to do the dishes?” Margaret was stacking plates.

  “No way,” said Carl. “The squaws of Skowhegan do that.”

  Margaret threw a pot holder at him.

  They all cleaned up, then sat in the family room. Harvey and Carl discussed the fine points of buying a house, and Margaret pumped Jennifer for wedding details. When Harvey heard Jennifer telling the cake story without embarrassment, he knew the friendship was established.

  Carl paused in mid-sentence to hear Jennifer tell about Harvey saying no chocolate, then yes chocolate. “Harvey, you’re incorrigible. Women are supposed to be the ones who change their minds.”

  Harvey grinned but kept quiet.

  Carl leaned back lazily. “How’s the Blake case going?”

  “All right.”

  “David Murphy told me he’d had a run-in with you.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s a patient of mine.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  Carl chuckled. “I’m not. He’s as mortal as the rest of us.”

  “Is he in good shape?”

  “Not bad for his age. Why?”

  “Just wondering if he’d go skipping over rocks on the shore.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. Really, Carl, this is hush-hush.”

  “No problem. Like I said, he’s pretty healthy. If he could quit smoking, he’d be healthier. It might help his image, too.”

  *****

  At 3:30 they said good-bye and left to look at the house.

  “I think I’ll switch my doctor,” Jennifer said, as they pulled out of the driveway.

  “I thought Carl made you nervous.”

  “At first he was a little overpowering, but he’s not so bad.”

  Harvey nodded. “He has that personality, but he’s a great doctor.”

  When they got to Van Cleeve Lane, she started paying attention to the houses. A stone cottage, an ivy-covered mansard, a large modern with glass covering the entire front. Apprehension pricked at her.

  “These houses look expensive.”

  “Just keep an open mind,” Harvey said.

  Bailey’s house was a Cape Cod with weathered shingles, and dormer windows upstairs. A white board fence enclosed the front yard, which had some lawn but ran mostly to flowers and bushes, with paths among them, a stone bird bath, and a sundial. They approached the breezeway between the house and attached garage.

  Jennifer hesitated. “I don’t know, Harvey. It looks like a lot of upkeep.”

  Mr. Bailey opened the door. “Hello, folks! Glad you made it.”

  He took them down a short hall with a bathroom, utility room and coat closet opening off it. The kitchen was large and sunny, with windows on the back of the house. In front of it was a dining room filled with massive cherry furniture—table and eight chairs, sideboard, and hutch. Even Harvey looked a bit intimidated. The living room was also on the front of the house. The pleasant room had a fireplace and a wall of built-in bookshelves. A piano sat to one side, away from the sofa, settee and arm chairs. Jennifer didn’t see any electronics, and she wondered if he had any. Mr. Bailey kept up a commentary, saying most of the antiques his wife had collected would go to his daughter.

  From the living room, a door opened into the front garden. At the back of the house was a family room, or sunroom as Mr. Bailey called it, with wicker chairs and a library table, bookshelves, and the TV at last. A French window opened onto a deck, and a large back yard was visible beyond. On the extreme left of the deck, a wall from another room jutted out behind the main house.

  “This house is bigger than I thought,” Harvey said.

  “There’s more. When my wife was incapacitated, we had a bedroom built on the back. You can’t see it from the street.” Bailey moved to the far side of the family room and opened a door. It led into a large master bedroom, with a roomy attached bath.

  “Flossie needed an accessible bathroom,” Mr. Bailey explained.

  “How long was your wife ill?” Jennifer asked.

  “About seven years. We built this the first year. She couldn’t go upstairs. We slept in the dining room while the builders were here.” Jennifer w
ondered where the cherry furniture had spent the duration.

  “It’s lovely,” she said. “It’s obvious you thought a lot about what she needed before you built this room.” One of the closets held a low rod and shelves that could be reached from wheelchair height, and the bathroom had rounded corners, several handrails, and a shower with no ridge where the door opened.

  The bedroom walls were papered in pale gray, with pink rosebuds climbing trellises. On the wall opposite the bed was a Georgia O’Keefe print of a larger-than-life poppy blossom, and over the headboard hung an original Maine harbor scene in oils. The woodwork was pristine white, and sheer curtains covered the large, low windows.

  “She could sit in here or in the sunroom and look out at the back yard,” said Mr. Bailey. “Her rose garden is just out there.” He pointed through a window, and Jennifer went to stand beside him.

  “Oh! How beautiful!”

  “Over twenty varieties.” He shook his head. “I’ve tried to keep them healthy, but it’s too much for me. Do you like roses, Miss Wainthrop?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know how I’d be at tending them.”

  “I’ve had a man coming in this summer. Flossie started that garden thirty years ago. It brought her great satisfaction in her last few years.”

  Harvey came to stand beside her, looking out at the roses, a wide expanse of grass, and a small vegetable garden in the far corner. The lot had to be at least half an acre, maybe more. She glanced up at him, and he smiled.

  Bailey took them back to the living room, where the staircase went up.

  “I’m not too good at climbing stairs myself anymore,” he said apologetically. “Perhaps the two of you could go up by yourselves. There are four bedrooms up there and a bathroom.”

  “Four—” Jennifer swallowed hard and looked at Harvey. He took her hand and led her up the stairs.

  Two of the rooms had beds and dressers and a few other furnishings. One was empty, and the fourth held boxes and luggage. The bathroom had attractive green and white tile and gleaming white fixtures.

  They stood in the hallway, and Jennifer looked at him helplessly. “It’s too much,” she said.

  “Too much money?”

  “Too much house.”

  “We could fill it up.” He put his arms around her. “It’s a terrific house.”

  “I know. I love it, but it’s not a starter house, Harvey. We’d have to work and save for years to afford a house like this.”