“He’s parking the car.” She wandered to the window and gazed out. Below her, in a far corner of the distant playground, she watched a group of little girls play jump rope. In another corner, a group of boys was shooting hoops. “How much longer do you think they’ll hold you hostage?” she asked.
“I can go in a few days or stay until the middle of next week. I told the doctors there’s no sense in rushing this old body out the door.”
Surprised again, she turned and eyed him skeptically, pondering his reluctance to leave. “Don’t you want to come home, Dad?”
He repositioned himself on the bed. “That’s not the point, Lizzie. While I’m here, I get physical and occupational therapy sessions each day. It makes more sense to stay here a bit and get the help, right?”
Yesterday, when she had phoned the hospital to talk with his doctor, she learned the medical staff already had her father using a walker. The doctor had chuckled and said he had vehemently refused to use a wheelchair. If he had intensive physical therapy now, his doctor thought he’d be able to rely on crutches and perhaps move into a walking cast sooner than they had expected.
Elise nodded. She knew what her father was implying. He had never been a man to rely on anyone, and a wheelchair and the thought of being less than self-sufficient scared him to death. She had to admit the hospital stay was helping him. His face was pain-free, his voice was steady, and his demeanor cheerful. He was also starting to charm the nursing staff.
Casting a warm and approving glance at him, she spoke. “It’s your choice, but remember, if you change your mind and get homesick, it won’t be any problem. We’ll manage with or without a wheelchair.”
At the sight of Lucas in the doorway, Anton Springer brightened even more. “Well, well, just the man I wanted to see. Did you bring some?”
“Coke, just like you asked.” Lucas grinned and popped the tab on a can he pulled from the bag under his arm. He slid the wrapped present, done up with a bow on the nightstand beside the bed.
Anton Springer took a Styrofoam ice bucket from the nightstand and held it out to Elise. “Could you get me some ice?” he asked with a hopeful look. “I want to put a few cans in to chill for later tonight.”
She studied him a moment. He wasn’t fooling anyone. The ice was merely a ploy to get her to leave the room. And Coke? She didn’t even know what was going on with that particular craving. For some reason, she thought, he wanted to be alone with Lucas. Reluctantly, she picked up the bucket and headed for the door.
On her way back to her father’s room, she stopped at the nurses’ station to get their opinion about her dad’s progress. She was glad to hear he was healing faster than even the surgeon could imagine. Behind the counter, she overheard an older nurse telling a co-worker about her emergency room shift last week when she had taken care of one of Mary Jo Meyer’s boys, who needed stitches in his forehead. “Those children are always falling down,” she said. “Clumsy little tykes. This one was running and hit the coffee table. Now why does a mother let children play tag in the house?”
Puzzled by the very same question, Elise headed back down the hall to her father’s room where she found a gray-haired nurse hovering near the foot of her father’s bed and fussing with some charts. She handed Lucas the ice bucket.
“Now be a trooper, Lily,” Elise heard Anton Springer tell the nurse, “your charts can wait a while longer. Can’t you see I have company? I want to talk to the kids without someone tinkering with these damned machines.”
The nurse’s gaze flitted from Elise to Lucas to Anton and back again. “Maybe I could just get a temperature?” she asked hopefully.
“Now, now, Nurse Ryan, I haven’t had a dad-burned fever since I came into this knife-wielding place,” Anton replied. “Let’s not get me riled and have my blood pressure soaring.”
The nurse laughed lustily, clutching her clipboard to her ample breasts. “You win, Anton. How can I refuse my favorite patient? I’ll give you a half hour, but I’ll be back. Count on it. As soon as you finish your soft drink, I’d suggest you dispose of the can. It’s a real appealing product around here, and I’d hate for our other patients to develop a taste for it since it’s not on our menu.”
Anton Springer winked. “That’s my girl. I knew you’d accommodate an old gent.”
“Oh, go on with you,” she said, and still chuckling, headed for the door.
Elise circled the bed and found a seat near the window. “Now, what was that all about?”
“Routine, just routine,” her father said, smiling. He took a sip from the can and smiled appreciatively at Lucas, smacking his lips. “Now, what were you saying about restoring a red ’67 Camaro, Lucas?”
It was then Elise smelled rum, or thought she smelled rum. Mystified, she stood and walked to the side of the bed.
Carefully, her father switched the can to other hand and placed it on the nightstand where Lucas was sitting by the door. Elise noticed the present on the nightstand had disappeared. Waving his hand, her father batted the air. “Jeez, don’t hover, Lizzie, you’re making me nervous. Have a seat. You must be tired from all the shopping Lucas was telling me about.”
Elise eased herself to the foot of the bed and stood there listening to Lucas and her father discuss exhaust systems and carburetors. After a few minutes, she inched up the opposite side, but Lucas’s feet shot off the ground before she could reach the nightstand beside him. He propped them on the edge of her father’s mattress, crossing them at the ankles. It was a blockade, pure and simple. She watched her father remove the can and switch it back to his other hand.
Eyes hooded, Lucas peered up at her. “Something wrong, Lizzie?”
“I smell rum.”
“Nah.” Face poker straight, he stared at her. “It must be my aftershave. It’s called...let me think...Bay Rum?”
Without warning, his feet slid off the bed and he stood, checking his watch. “Well, Anton, I guess it’s time to hit the road. I’d like to get your lawn mowed before dark.” He set another can with a snap-on lid in the ice bucket. “This one’s ready, and you don’t have to fool with those tricky tabs on the top.”
“Thanks, Lucas.” Anton Springer chuckled. “Now you two run along. Is Lizzie feeding you?”
“If our trunk is any indication,” Lucas said, “she’s planning to feed the entire neighborhood.” He grabbed Elise by the elbow and propelled her toward the door before she even had a chance to plant her usual kiss on her father’s cheek.
Outside the hospital, Elise stomped to a nearby bench in the shadows where the air was chilly for a spring day and sat down. She pointed to the space beside her. When he slouched down, she swiveled to face him. “Don’t even think of trying to come up with some fairy tale story to lull me into mental serenity. You sneaked rum into the hospital room!”
Instead of cowering, Lucas threw back his head and let out a peal of laughter. “Guess we didn’t fool you, or Nurse Ryan. Though I must say, Nurse Ryan was a tad more compassionate.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself!”
“Oh, put a lid on it and lighten up.” Smiling, he leaned back against the bench and looked up at the sky, gloating. “It was a mission of mercy, Liz. He asked for some.”
“Mission of mercy? Lucas, have you any idea what can happen when you mix pain pills with alcohol?”
He lifted himself off the seat and fished for something in his back pocket. His tight jeans, molded to his well-muscled body, barely allowed him room for his hands. He pulled out a small plastic bag. Grinning, he tossed it in her lap. “He’s been palming the pain pills for the last forty-eight hours, so he could have a couple of rum and Cokes. Come on, Liz, cut the man a break here. Fritz and I introduced your Dad to Captain Morgan when we started to play a few hands of weekly poker at the farm. It’s a change from beer. What’s the big deal? And thanks to our discriminating tastes, your dad has acquired a taste for the dear Captain’s Private Stock.”
She spoke through clenched her te
eth, “I can’t believe you two were in cahoots. You’re like a couple of irresponsible teenagers.” She watched his face fade to a dark, dangerous scowl. She crossed her arms at her chest.
“Now you listen here, Elise Springer. If your father asked for an entire bottle of top shelf Kentucky bourbon, I would have driven to Kentucky to get it—and I would’ve slipped it past the goddamned nurse’s station. I owe him that much.”
“You don’t owe him a thing.”
He twisted toward her. “Your father is in the hospital because of me.”
“What? No way.” She looked at him with a confused look.
“Yes, he is. Earlier, the morning of the accident, we got into a heated fight.” He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. “God, it was the best fight I’ve ever had with your old man. He sure can hold his own. No wonder Thomas is a lawyer.”
“About what?” she asked.
“Thomas and I wanted to put more pressure on the local police about Mike’s death. Your dad said it was best to let things ride for a while. He seemed to think putting any squeeze on the local cops to re-evaluate the accident might cause more suspicion. He said dishonest people are prone to make mistakes. He’s always been the one who keeps a clear head, who heats up the least. Anyway, we fought, and he left the house, obviously to give me some time to cool off and rethink my impulsiveness.”
“So you think you’re responsible he was injured?”
“I think if I hadn’t worked him up, he might have been more cautious.” He stood.
“I wouldn’t beat myself up over it,” Elise said in a calmer voice. “An accident is just that—an accident.” She mulled over what he had just told her. “What exactly did the local cops report?” she asked.
“The local cops said Mike lost control and hit a tree. I understand they were the first ones on the scene.”
“And the state police?”
“They agree, but they also speculated he could have been forced off the road and then hit the tree.”
“That’s quite a difference,” she said.
“Yeah, a big difference.”
Chapter Eleven
They were within two miles of the farm when a police siren wailed its warning, and a black and white township cruiser with red lights flashing tore up the pavement behind them.
“Oh, terrific,” Lucas muttered, annoyed. He glanced at the rear view mirror. “Just what we need, some stimulating police activity to cap off an already fun-filled day.”
“How much were we over the speed limit?” Elise asked. She pulled her sunglasses off and propped them on the top of her head.
“We?” The look he gave her was deadly, but his tone was less threatening. “I can think of a lot of things we could be sharing at the moment besides a speeding ticket.”
“Seriously, Lucas, how fast? We couldn’t have been more than five miles over.” She felt the car smoothly decelerate as he slipped through the gears above the steady click of the turn signal.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure that cop back there is dying to take the word of a woman who drives like she’s in a NASCAR race.”
“Don’t you dare tell me you’ve never had a ticket.”
“A few,” he conceded, grinning. He guided the car onto the apron and turned off the ignition. “Just sit tight, okay? Let me handle it.”
The cruiser door slammed and a burly officer stepped up to the side of the car. The Pontiac’s low-slung construction obstructed Elise’s view from the passenger’s side. Only the officer’s meaty thighs were visible through the driver’s open window. His bear-paw hand moved cautiously to rest on the gun at his hip, his left thumb tucked behind a belt encircling his bulky waist.
“How about stepping out, buddy?”
Instantly, Elise recognized the voice of Ted Meyer, a local cop and husband of her high school friend.
Like his father before him, Ted had joined the local law enforcement division a few years after high school. Now retired, old Sam Meyer had been a hard-nosed local cop who reveled in terrorizing those who were defenseless or weak, especially the teen population armed with new licenses. He had stopped Elise one night coming home from a high school basketball game and ordered all four females from the car while he searched it for alcohol. Their open cans of Pepsi had been unceremoniously dumped out in the gravel with the warning there had better not have been any booze. Elise remembered her father had been furious when he learned of Sam’s little strong-arm tactic.
“Well, well,” she heard Ted say as Lucas vaulted from the car, “if it isn’t Lucas Fisher. So the local bad boy is back to visit his hometown and old haunts, huh? If you’re thinking about looking up all the bimbos you screwed, Fisher, forget it. You’re too late. They finally got themselves some common sense and better taste and married respectable citizens.”
“Yeah, I heard Mary Jo finally took the plunge with you,” Lucas drawled.
The next instant the car rocked violently.
“Watch your filthy mouth, smart aleck, or I’ll cram your tongue down your throat! Hey, what’s that I smell? Beer? You been drinking, Fisher?”
“Only one, and it was hours ago. Sorry. Not enough to make you the hero-of-the-day, Meyer. Get your hands off me.”
“You trying to impede an officer at work?” Meyer’s voice escalated with his growing anger.
The car rocked again.
Heart thudding, Elise eased the door open and scrambled out, rounding the car by way of the front. She was not surprised to find Ted Meyer gripping Lucas by his shirt while he muscled him flat against the gleaming back fender of the Trans Am. Both men were so caught up in the moment neither of them noticed her approach.
Gathering her wits, Elise spoke with a calm control she hardly felt. “Is there a problem here, Officer Meyer? Or are you just trying to polish the finish on this beautiful Trans Am with the rivets on Fisher’s Levi’s?”
Ted Meyer’s hands flew up and away from Lucas Fisher as if he had touched hot coals. He stepped back and stared at her as a look of surprise replaced the earlier hostility on his jowly face. “Liz? Lizzie Springer?” His surprise quickly faded to frantic silence as his eyes searched the area along the weedy berm for another vehicle.
“I see your memory serves you well, Ted.” Elise cocked a hip against the fender and crossed her hands at her chest to suppress her rage. The last thing she wanted was to be in the middle of a testosterone war between two males. “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”
“Stay out of it, Liz,” Lucas warned through gritted teeth.
“You with him?” Ted jerked a thumb at Lucas.
“It was either Lucas or hitchhike,” she admitted with a half-hearted smile. “You know what they say about bumming rides from strangers, Ted.”
She was amused as he fumbled for something to say. She had never been fond of Ted Meyer. Even in high school, he had been a loud and obnoxious bully. When her best friend, Mary Jo, had announced she was dropping out of her third year of college to marry him, Elise had been dismayed until she learned he had pursued her with a vengeance, making it a point to pester her with calls and unannounced visits. Seven months after their wedding, it was no surprise when the first of their three children arrived.
Face beet red, Ted Meyer tugged at the neck of his uniform. “So when did you get into town, Liz?”
“A couple days ago. How are Mary Jo and the kids?”
“Fine, fine. How’s your dad? I heard he busted up his ankle.”
“And leg. However, he’s doing well. In fact, Lucas was just giving me a ride back from the hospital. Dad’s old truck should be pronounced unfit to drive in a demolition derby.” She smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. She liked nothing about Ted Meyer, but he was an officer of the law. All she wanted was for everyone to stay calm and to keep Lucas out of an altercation.
She blew out an anxious breath of air and asked, “Seriously, we weren’t going over the speed limit, were we?”
“Sixty in a forty-five.”
Lucas drew himself up straight. “That’s a lie—”
Elise cut him off in a chiding tone as her arm came out and lightly smacked him on the chest with the back of her hand. “Now, now, Lucas, maybe it’s possible. You know how distracted we were trying to catch up on old times and recent activities around Scranton.” Her hand came up to shade her eyes against the brilliant glare of the setting sun. She squinted up at Ted. “So what’s been happening since I left? What’s it been now, twelve years since we’ve graduated?”
Ted shrugged. “Nothing much. The area is still the same. Oh, we’re trying to put in a local recreation area for the kids next to the Ice Cream Parlor out on Sawyer Road, complete with a new ball field. Maybe even miniature golf. Hey, would you like to be on the committee? The old gang would love to see you.” He eyed her with open appreciation. “You look real good, Lizzie. Reeeeeal good.”
“Thanks, but I’m not staying long. I’m just here until Dad is on the mend.”
“Ah, Liz, it doesn’t matter. Come anyhow. We’re meeting next Thursday night. Maybe you could just lend us some fresh ideas. It’s going to take a lot of fund-raising.”
“I imagine so. Maybe you should think about asking—”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucas give her a baleful look.
“—Fritz,” she finished. “He knows nearly everyone in a fifty-mile radius.”
“Already have,” Meyer admitted. “Did he send you the flyer about a community Summer Festival in June to raise money for the high school band? It’s supposed to be at the Country Club. Big splash. Mary Jo’s on the planning committee and is forever having some sort of meeting at our house.”
“It sounds like fun. I plan to stop over and see her before I leave.”
He motioned toward his car. “Could we talk in private for a moment?”
She glanced at Lucas, who was eyeing Ted Meyer with a look hot enough to melt steel. He was all but itching to send a fist into the man’s chunky nose. She shrugged, and then nodded.
“If you two are going to trade secrets, I’d keep a reasonable distance, Liz,” Lucas interjected, straightening his shirt. “The man has trouble keeping his hands to himself despite his fancy badge and pledge to uphold the law.”
Key to Love Page 11