Jericho

by Ann McMan

  Sighing, she thought about Henry and wondered how he was faring during his first night in Kannapolis. What would his dreams be like tonight?

  Syd tightened her arms and tugged her closer. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Actually, I was thinking about Henry.”

  Syd lifted her head from Maddie’s shoulder. “Henry? Who on earth is Henry?”

  “Henry is a guy I met on the flight back from L.A. He made quite an impression on me. I can’t get him off my mind.”

  “Oh, really? Should I be worried?”

  Maddie ran a warm palm down Syd’s back and over the naked swell of her hip. “Do you think you need to be worried?”

  “Not when you put it like that.”

  “Good. Besides, Henry is five-years-old.”

  “Five?”

  “Uh huh. He was flying across country solo, and the head flight attendant asked if I would keep him company.”

  Syd smiled into her neck. “You’re such a softie.”

  “Nah. I just have an affinity for short people.”

  “I’ll say.” Syd pinched her on the butt. “Perv.”

  Maddie smiled. “You know, that’s a title that seems to get shifted around a lot.”

  “Don’t blame me. It ain’t the bait, it’s the fishing hole.”

  Maddie laughed. “You’ve been living in the South too long.”

  “Well, I think my tenure here is likely to be even longer, so it’s in my best interest to adapt to the local folkways.”

  Maddie smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “You’re off to one helluva start.”

  “Flatterer. Now quit stalling and tell me more about this little Henry person.”

  Maddie was silent for a moment. “I don’t know. There was just something so sweet and compelling about him. He was traveling from California to North Carolina to live with his grandmother while his father serves out a tour of duty in Afghanistan. No mother in the picture. I don’t know the details of that. He was so small, but so serene. Taking everything in stride—like none of what was happening to him was at all difficult or unusual. It was like he didn’t expect anything from life, so he wasn’t disappointed. It just really got to me.”

  “I can see why.”

  “I stayed with him at the airport until his grandmother arrived to pick him up. She was certainly nice enough, but it was pretty clear that taking care of a five-year-old wasn’t going to be easy for her. She works in a textile mill in Kannapolis, and, as far as I can tell, she’s either single or a widow.”

  “It sounds like you made a real connection with them.”

  Maddie nodded. “I think so. It’s odd. I gave her my contact information, and I got theirs.” She turned her head to Syd. “I’d really like to see him again—see how he’s doing. Is that weird?”

  “Not at all. And it’s not surprising, either. You have great maternal instincts.”

  Maddie was incredulous. “I do? You’re the second person who’s said that to me.”

  “Yes, you do. I noticed it first with the Sanchez children.” She chuckled. “You aren’t so shabby with teenagers, either.”

  Maddie groaned. “That hardly counts. There’s nothing maternal about my effect on Roma Jean.”

  “Well, maybe not from her vantage point.” Syd was quiet for a moment. “Do you want kids?”

  “Me? I’ve never really thought about it. Do you?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’d love to have about a dozen.”

  Maddie felt her stomach lurch. A dozen? “Really?”

  Syd laughed. “No, nimrod, not really.” She thought about it. “A couple, maybe?”

  “Wow. I guess if it’s too soon for us to consider living together, then it’s too soon for us to talk about starting a family?”

  “You might say that. Besides, we’re not talking about starting a family. We’re talking about the idea of having children, in general.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  Syd shifted her head and nuzzled her ear. “There won’t be if you knock me up.”

  Maddie felt a shiver run across her body. “Now there’s an interesting idea.”

  “So tell me more about Henry.”

  “There isn’t much more to tell. He’s chatty and charming. He likes animals and drawing pictures. He even sent a few back with me for you and Pete.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah.” She laughed quietly. “He asked me if I had a girlfriend.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No. It was so sweet and reflexive—like it never occurred to him that it might seem odd to ask a woman that question.”

  “How did you answer?”

  “I said yes.” She tugged her closer. “Because I do.”

  “You got that right.”

  “He’s a real cutie.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Dark hair. Blue eyes.”

  “Ahh. Just my type.”

  “Would you be up for a road trip to Kannapolis sometime to meet him? See how he’s doing?”

  “Of course.” Syd paused. “Should I ask David to extend the rental period on the U-Haul?”

  Maddie snorted. “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you?”

  “Um hmm. Just about.”

  “Okay, smartass. What am I thinking about right now?”

  Syd slid her hand up Maddie’s bare abdomen and rested her palm on a warm bit of real estate. “Let me guess.” She licked up the side of Maddie’s neck. “Is this at all close?”

  Maddie sighed and closed her eyes before rolling onto her back and pulling Syd on top of her. “It sucks to be so transparent.”

  Chapter 22

  Maddie’s first day back at the clinic was surprisingly low key, thanks to the seamless job Lizzy and Peggy had done managing her patient load during her absence. She was more besieged by well-wishing and curious neighbors inquiring after Celine, than by sick people needing treatment.

  By noon, she felt like half of Jericho had checked in. She actually was relieved when Gladys Pitzer showed up complaining about stiffness in the joints of her left hand. Since this had been the hand she had damaged with florist wire on New Years Eve, Gladys was worried that there might be some nerve damage. Maddie had Peggy shoot some x-rays as a precaution, but she was pretty certain what Gladys was suffering from was related more to the strain of repetitive motion after an injury.

  She sat down with Gladys in one of her examination rooms and checked her hands and feet for redness, swelling, or inflammation. The discomfort seemed to be confined to her left hand, and more specifically, to her previously afflicted forefinger. She had good range of motion in both hands and feet, and no indications of joint deformity, so Maddie didn’t worry too much about a rheumatic condition. As expected, her x-rays were normal.

  She finished her examination and sat back on her rolling stool. Gladys seemed jumpier than usual, and that was saying a lot. Maddie often thought of her as the human incarnation of a squirrel—busy and industrious, but furtive and antsy. Today she seemed more agitated and distracted than usual. Her manner was anxious and fretful. She appeared overly concerned with what probably was a simple case of tendonitis. Maddie was determined to try and allay her concerns about her hand, without minimizing the condition.

  “Well, Gladys, the good news is that there is nothing seriously wrong with your hand. Your x-rays look fine, and you have excellent range of motion—always a very good sign. I think you have a trace of tendonitis from your injury over the holidays—maybe even a bit of bursitis. I can’t be sure about that, but I’d like to give you some antibiotics as a precautionary measure, just in case there was some lingering infection in the wound that might have caused inflammation around the joints.”

  Gladys nodded rapidly. Her appearance was almost comical. With her beady eyes and frizzy red hair, she resembled a bobble-head clown. “What do I do about work? Easter is coming. It’s one of my busiest times. I have to work.”

  Maddie raised a cal
ming hand. “Easter is still several weeks away. I think we can have you feeling better by the end of the week if you’ll do a few simple things to rest your hand. Okay?”

  Gladys sighed, plainly still agitated. She nodded again.

  Maddie held her gaze. “Okay. I’m going to have Peggy give you some written instructions for how to take care of your hand. Simply stated, I want you to rest it, keep it elevated, and take some over-the-counter anti-inflammatory like Advil or Motrin to reduce any swelling and help you out with the pain. Do this for two to three days, okay? And take the antibiotics as directed until they’re all gone. If you don’t feel better by the weekend, call me, and we’ll go on from there.”

  Gladys continued to sit on the padded table, holding her afflicted hand in her lap. Her shoulders were hunched together and her compact, wiry form looked like it had been folded up for ease of storage.

  Maddie decided to take a chance. “Gladys, is everything okay at home? With Beau?”

  Gladys looked up at her with alarm.

  “Would he be able to help you out around the house for a few days?” Maddie asked, gentling her voice. “Just so you can rest your hand?”

  Gladys shrugged nervously and looked over Maddie’s shoulder toward the door that led to the hallway and the other examination rooms. “I don’t know where he is right now. He hasn’t been at home for over a week.”

  Maddie felt a twinge of apprehension. “Is he working? Did he get a job some place out of town?”

  Gladys shrugged again. “I don’t think so. I tried to get him to help me out in the store, but he didn’t want anyone to see him working in a flower shop.” She looked down at the floor again.

  Maddie affected an upbeat tone to try and put Gladys at ease. “Well, maybe you can take advantage of the quiet around the house to really get some rest. I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon.” When Gladys didn’t reply, Maddie leaned forward and met her eyes. “I hope you know that you can always ask for help if you’re worried or afraid. No one wants any harm to come to Beau—or to you. Please, don’t try to manage anything on your own that feels too big or too frightening.”

  Gladys nodded curtly and got to her feet. “Where do I get my prescription?”

  Maddie sat back and sighed. “I’ll write it up and bring it out to you while you’re finishing up your paperwork with Peggy. You call me if you need anything. Let me hear from you toward the end of the week, okay?”

  “Okay.” She refused to make eye contact. “Thanks, Dr. Stevenson.”

  Maddie watched her narrow back as she exited the room and headed down the hallway toward the reception desk. Shit, she thought. Shit. She pulled out her prescription pad and started to write.

  MADDIE HAD ARRANGED to meet David at the Inn that night after work for a glass of wine. When she had called him to set up the date, he teased her about her seeming formality.

  “What’s up with the cloak and dagger stuff? I can’t be in trouble for anything. I haven’t even seen you since the night you left for California.”

  “You’re not in trouble. I just need to talk with you.”

  He was still suspicious. “I know you, Cinderella. You’ve got something up your poofy sleeve.”

  Maddie sighed. “We’ve had this conversation, David. I don’t wear poofy sleeves.”

  “Hey? Allow me some artistic license here. If I wanna imagine you in poofy sleeves, then that’s my prerogative.” He thought about it. “Yeah. Poofy. Knowing you, it would be something folksy and tasteless, too—like dotted Swiss.”

  “Dotted Swiss?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Whatever. I’ll be there at five-thirty. Open something expensive.”

  She arrived at the Inn, and David was actually outside in the parking lot, unloading a couple of boxes from the back of the Range Rover. He stopped when he saw Maddie’s Jeep approach and stood back to wait on her to park and join him. They embraced warmly, and he kissed her on the cheek.

  “It’s good to see you. I’m so glad about Celine. Syd told us how well she rebounded. It must have been harrowing for you.”

  Maddie held him at arm’s length for a moment before releasing him. He looked fit and handsome in the late afternoon light. “It was. You probably understand that better than anyone.”

  He nodded. “Help me carry these inside?” He gestured at the two boxes sitting on the ground behind his SUV.

  “Sure. Whatcha got? New vacuum cleaner hoses?”

  He gave her a withering look. “So much for honor among thieves . . . and I thought I could trust that blonde vixen of yours.”

  Maddie laughed as they walked to the Rover. “That was your second mistake.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me. Blame that damn Sex Lady on HBO. It was her idea.”

  “I doubt that, somehow.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Besides, this ain’t new attachments for the Kirby. It’s wine.”

  “Oh, really?” Maddie noticed the Shelton label stenciled on the outside of the boxes. “Don’t I have great timing?” They each picked up a case and headed to the porch.

  “Great timing, my ass. I made a special trip to North Carolina in your honor. I know how much you like that Reserve Claret.”

  “You trying to spoil me?”

  “Nope. Bribe you. My instincts tell me that I’m in for something, and where you’re concerned, I’m never wrong.”

  He held the door open with his knee, and Maddie entered the Inn ahead of him. They walked to the bar and deposited the two cases of wine on a low table.

  “You’re not in for anything, David. But I do need to talk with you about something Mom told me the other day when she was home from the hospital.”

  He stared at her with wide eyes. “Mom?”

  Maddie sighed and shrugged. She needed to get used to this reaction. “Yeah. I guess I should tell you about that, too.”

  “I’ll say. What in the hell happened out there?” He took off his jacket and dropped it over the back of a chair. “Sit down. Lemme open one of these.”

  She complied, dropped into a chair, and pulled another one over to prop up her feet. David returned to the table with two balloon glasses and a corkscrew.

  He drew one of the tall bottles out of a box. “You wanna do the honors?” He held the bottle and the corkscrew out toward her.

  “Nope.” She laced her fingers together and stretched her long arms out, yawning. “I’m dragging. Must still be on west coast time.”

  David twisted the corkscrew into the top of the bottle. “Oh really? I’d have guessed it was more like sleep deprivation.”

  She glowered at him. “Nice try. You aren’t getting any details from me, so don’t even ask.”

  “I don’t have to ask—it’s all over your face.”

  “What is?”

  “The serene countenance of someone who’s getting lots of nookie.” He extracted the cork with a loud pop. “This is the first time I’ve seen you without that annoying facial tic.”

  “You’re nuts. I never had a facial tic.”

  “Well, then, it obviously was some kind of involuntary muscle spasm, discernible only by me.” He poured them each a healthy serving of the dark, ruby-colored wine. “I’d say let’s let this breathe, but screw it.” He clinked glasses with her. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.” They took a sip, then sat back and regarded each other.

  “So,” David ran a hand through his dark hair, “what gives?”

  Maddie twisted the stem of her wine glass around on the small table. “Mom finally told me the truth about what happened between her and Dad all those years ago.” She met his eyes. “Did you know that Dad was gay?”

  David’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. She found out by accident one day when she came home from work early and found him there—with Uncle Art.”

  David closed his eyes. “Oh, my god.”

  “Yeah. He never wanted me to find out, so he made her promise to kee
p it a secret.” She leaned toward him over the small table. “David?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her.

  “I have to ask you this. Did you know?”

  He hesitated before slowly shaking his head. “Did I know? No. I didn’t know. Not for sure.”

  She held his open gaze. “But you suspected?”

  He exhaled and took her hand across the table. She did not pull it away. “Yeah. I mean, I thought about it once or twice. But I never knew for sure, and I never asked him about it.” He shook his head. “Never. I couldn’t. My suspicions were too vague, and it just seemed too unlikely to me.” He squeezed her hand. “That’s why I never said anything to you. I was so sure I was wrong.”

  She sighed. “Well, it turns out you weren’t.” She sat back, but allowed David to continue to hold her hand. “What made you suspect it?”

  He shook his head. “I dunno. There was never anything . . . concrete. It was more like a feeling. And he was so supportive of me, so determined to make sure that I had a positive coming out experience and a better chance at making a life for myself away from here.” He lowered his eyes. “I just wondered sometimes, you know? Especially when he never dated anybody else after your mother left. And he spent a lot of weekends in Charlottesville, but Art rarely came to the farm—at least not during the year that I lived there.” He looked back up at her. “I guess you never found anything in the house to make you suspect? No books or letters or anything?”

  “No. Nothing. And after I moved back down here, I spent a fair amount of time packing up Dad’s personal effects. It was all pretty innocuous. No surprises.”

  “Well. Art was here with him that last weekend. He was the one who called the EMTs when he found your dad in the barn.”

  Maddie considered that. “Are you suggesting that maybe he took some items out of the house?”