Eyes

by Joanne Fluke

  “Right.” Jill smiled at him. He was really very sweet. “But please, Doug. At least let me pay you back for—”

  Doug shook his head. “No way! I told you, this is a present for me. I just want you to promise that you’ll keep it charged and carry it in your purse.”

  “I promise.” Jill felt warm inside. No one had ever been so concerned about her before. Neil hadn’t ever suggested that she get a cell phone, not even at the beginning when she’d thought he was in love with her.

  * * *

  Connie’s hands were shaking slightly as she approached the door to room one-fourteen. She could see him. He was in a wheelchair by the window, staring out at the park below.

  “Mr. Perkins?” She kept her voice soft. His back was to her, and she didn’t want to startle him. When he turned around in his wheelchair, she was the one who was startled.

  Ian Perkins was a boy! He looked to be about eleven years old, with a round face and dark hair.

  “Hi!” The boy smiled. “Who are you?”

  Connie was so flustered she almost forgot the name she was using. “I’m . . . uh . . . Camille Ward. And you’re . . . ?”

  “Ian Perkins. But most of my friends call me Spud.”

  Connie smiled. She couldn’t help it. Ian Perkins had a very infectious grin. “Why do they call you Spud?”

  “Because I love french fires. They’re my favorite food. Hey, Camille . . . have you ever had a french fry sandwich?”

  “No.” Connie sat down on the edge of his bed. “How do you make a french fry sandwich?”

  “You order a super scoop of fries and a bun with nothing but mustard and catsup and pickles on it. Then you put the fries in the bun and eat it. I know it sounds gross, but it’s not.”

  Connie nodded. “It sounds interesting. I’ll have to try it sometime. Which place has the best fries?”

  “Fast-food chain, coffee shop, or regular restaurant?”

  Connie shrugged. “Tell me about all three, the fast-food first.”

  “Okay. Fast-food is McDonald’s, hands down. Tell them you want to wait for a fresh batch, and don’t let them give you the ones under the warmer.”

  Connie nodded. “That’s good advice. How about the coffee shops?”

  “Embers. Definitely Embers, especially the one on the way to the airport. Their french fries are so good you don’t have to douse them with catsup. And for regular restaurants, the winner’s got to be the one in the downtown Hilton. They serve curly fires, but they’re really crispy and they don’t leave any grease on the plate.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” Connie grinned at him as she handed him the stack of envelopes. “Here’s your mail. Gretchen sent it, and she said to tell you hello.”

  Ian’s face lit up in a smile. “Gretchen makes super fries. Are you a friend of hers?”

  “Not exactly. I just met her a couple of minutes ago. I’m a volunteer from the hospital. I just stopped in to visit you.”

  “Cool!” Ian grinned at her. “That must be how you got past the dragon lady at the desk. She doesn’t let any of my friends visit me. They’ve got some kind of rule about minors. You have to be eighteen or a member of the immediate family to get in.”

  Connie nodded. “I know. So how old are you, Spud?”

  “I’m eleven, but I’m big for my age. That’s why they could give me the liver. It came from a man, but you probably know that since you’re from the hospital. I just wish I could thank him, but he’s dead. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t have his liver.”

  “Very true.” Connie nodded. “Would you like to know more about the man who gave you his liver?”

  Ian nodded. “You bet! Did you know him, or what?”

  “Yes, but you’ve got to promise not to tell. The hospital wouldn’t let me visit you if they knew.”

  “Okay, I promise.” Ian looked solemn. “I guess that would be a conflict of interest, huh?”

  “I guess it would. How do you know about conflict of interest?”

  Ian shrugged. “My uncle’s a lawyer. I hear stuff like that all the time. So tell me about the man . . . please?”

  “All right.” Connie smiled at him. He was a very nice boy, and she was glad he had Alan’s liver. “His name was Alan, and he was very handsome. We loved each other. We were going to be married.”

  “Oh, bummer! I’m sorry, Camille.”

  “So am I.” Connie sighed, then forced herself to smile again. It took almost an hour for her to tell Ian about Alan, and when she was through, there were tears in Ian’s eyes.

  “I wish I could’ve known him.” Ian gave her a lopsided smile. “You really loved him, huh?”

  Connie nodded. “I really loved him. And, Spud, I’m really glad he gave you his liver. Take good care of it, and think about him once in a while. You would have liked him a lot.”

  “I will. Thanks for telling me, Camille. I’ll never forget what you said.”

  “That’s good enough for me. And it’s good enough for Alan, too.” Connie was smiling as she went out the door. She liked Ian Perkins. He would take good care of Alan’s liver, but he was too young for their purposes. It was time to go back to her hotel room and tell Alan exactly what had happened. They could rejoice for tonight, celebrating the fact that his liver had found a good home. First thing tomorrow, she would start researching the next name on the transplant list, the next candidate for fathering their baby.

  CHAPTER 17

  It seemed everyone was going somewhere for Christmas Eve. Traffic was heavy, and to complicate matters, a light snow had started to fall around three in the afternoon. Though Jill had left the office early, her twenty-minute commute had stretched into an hour.

  It was dark when she turned onto River Road and headed toward her house. As usual, the homes in this area were decorated for the holidays. She passed one with a life-size manger scene on the front lawn, another with a family of lighted, plastic snowmen.

  As she approached her block, Jill noticed that the house lights were on. Since they weren’t on a timer, and Neil wasn’t in the habit of turning them on, the new companion Helen had hired must have flicked the switch.

  Christmas Eve. Jill sighed as she turned into the driveway. Her parents had always had a party, and all the neighbors had come. She remembered her father’s dressing up as Santa, long after she’d stopped believing that Santa climbed down the chimney every Christmas Eve. He’d done it for the neighborhood children, and Jill had helped him pass out the presents.

  This was the time of year she missed her family the most. Her mother had baked for a solid two weeks before Christmas: frosted cookies of various shapes, date cakes with chocolate frosting, gingerbread men with red and green icing, fruitcakes, and five kinds of pie including mincemeat which no one seemed to like. She’d also made rum balls.

  There were cars lining the street in front of her house. One of their neighbors must be having a Christmas Eve party. Jill opened the garage door to drive inside, and at that moment she realized that the laughter and music were coming from her house!

  “Hey, Jill! It’s about time you got home!” Tom Hawthorne, one of Neil’s colleagues at the university, caught her up in a giant hug the moment she stepped inside.

  “Hi.” Jill smiled at him. She’d always liked Tom. He had a good heart and was always trying to help people, though sometimes he hindered more than he helped. “What’s going on?”

  “A little surprise for your hubby. When he said he couldn’t make it to my Christmas Eve party, we just packed up everything and brought it over here. Name your poison, Jill. I’m mixing drinks.”

  “I see that.” Jill managed to keep the smile on her face as she caught sight of the kitchen. There were times when Tom resembled an exuberant but very clumsy bear. He had every glass in her cupboard out on the counter, along with a half-dozen varieties of liquor. Her blender was sitting in a sticky puddle at the edge of the sink, and several nearly empty juice cartons lay on their sides, leaking pink and orange and white liquid. It
was clear that Tom was mixing his favorite tropical concoctions. “That was . . . uh . . . very thoughtful, Tom.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I made a mess, but I’ll clean everything up. We just thought the old man needed cheering up on Christmas Eve, that’s all.”

  “You were right. He does.” Jill took a deep breath and tried to ignore the water dripping from a bag of ice onto the floor and the dirty dishes that were stacked in her sink. “You don’t have to worry about cleaning up. We’re not having any company tomorrow; I’ll take care of it. Who’s here?”

  “Everybody who showed up at my party. We brought food. There’s a table set up in the living room.”

  Jill nodded. Tom always invited all the single professors and secretaries from the department, everyone who had nowhere to go for the holidays, “Just let me change out of my work clothes and I’ll go in to say hello.”

  “Great!” Tom looked relieved. “I’ve got your favorite white wine, a whole case of Pinot Grigio. Do you want a chilled glass?”

  Jill nodded and held her breath as Tom opened the freezer. When he took out one of her inexpensive wineglasses, she let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he hadn’t found the antique, pink crystal goblets that had belonged to her grandmother!

  “Here you go, Jill.” Tom poured the wine and handed it to her. “How is it?”

  Jill took a sip and smiled. “Very good, Tom. I’ll just change clothes, then I’ll join the party.”

  As she hurried up the stairs, she was frowning. Why hadn’t Neil called to tell her there was a party in progress? She flipped the lock on the bedroom door, in case one of the revelers wandered in, and put on the beaded sweater and matching skirt she’d worn to Tom’s party last year. Since they’d arrived late and everyone had been too bombed to notice what she was wearing, Jill thought she might as well give it another try.

  As she descended the stairs, she heard a high-pitched giggle and an accompanying burst of male laughter. It was clear that everyone was already quite full of Christmas cheer. If the partygoers were as drunk as they sounded, she might be able to wear this sweater and skirt to Tom’s party next year, too!

  “Jill!” Another of Neil’s colleagues, a female professor who held graduate seminars on poetry, came rushing up to Jill as she started to enter the living room. “How’s the lawyer business?”

  “Just fine, Norma. Merry Christmas.” Jill tried to step around her, but Norma was a big woman and she effectively blocked Jill’s view of the living room.

  “Don’t go in there,” she said.

  She looked very serious, and Jill started to frown. “Why not?”

  “They’re . . . uh . . . they’re dancing.”

  Jill nodded. “That’s okay. Why shouldn’t I go in?”

  “Because I don’t think you want to see who Neil’s partner is.”

  “Lisa?” Jill took a deep breath as Norma nodded. “Who invited her?”

  “Tom did. But he invited her before he knew we were coming here. I tried to tell Lisa it wasn’t a good idea, but she came along anyway.”

  Jill laughed bitterly. “That’s Lisa. All hormones and no brains. Please don’t concern yourself, Norma. I’m aware of what’s going on between Neil and Lisa. I just haven’t decided what to do about it yet.”

  “But . . . Lisa’s acting almost as if she’s the hostess. It’s an insult to you, Jill! There are those of us who still believe in the sanctity of marriage.”

  “Unfortunately, my husband’s not one of them” Jill sighed. “But thanks for warning me. I know you were just trying to keep me from being hurt.”

  “That’s true. And that’s all I was doing. I don’t want you to think for a second that I approve of—”

  “I know you don’t.” Jill smiled at her. “Now . . . please. Just let me go in.”

  “Do you really think you should?”

  “Yes,” Jill said. “I have to see for myself.”

  Norma looked as if she still wanted to object, but one glance at Jill’s determined expression and she stepped to the side. “Okay. But the party started three hours ago, and you know how strong Tom mixes his drinks.”

  “I do know.” Jill sighed as she stepped into the living room. Tom’s party was big this year. There were over thirty people in various stages of intoxication. The guests who were still working on their first drinks were holding animated conversations, their words only slightly slurred. Those who had gone to the kitchen for refills were dancing, though struggling to keep their balance. Any guests who’d had three of Tom’s lethal concoctions were stretched out on the couches or the floor pillows, too drunk to even try to move.

  “See what I mean?” Norma put a hand on Jill’s arm. “You can always tell when Tom’s mixing the drinks. There’s a ton of food on that table, but nobody’s eating.”

  Jill nodded. “You’re right. But I don’t see Neil.”

  “They were here a couple of minutes ago. I saw them dancing by that circular stairway.”

  “Then I know where they’ve gone.” Jill frowned as she stared at the staircase. It let to her father’s old office, over the garage. Since it hadn’t been large enough for Neil’s new office, they’d converted it to a small guest bedroom.

  “Don’t go up there. Sit down on the couch and I’ll bring you a drink.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t want one.” Jill smiled at Norma and patted her arm. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Jill crossed the room, stopping several times to greet Neil’s friends. At last she reached the circular stairway. No one seemed to notice as she climbed it. Jill was relieved. If Neil and Lisa were in the guest bedroom, that would be embarrassing enough.

  It was very quiet at the top of the stairs, so quiet that Jill found herself holding her breath as she pushed open the door. A dim light was on and she saw them there, on the small, twin bed. Neither one had noticed her. They were too intent on the pleasure they were seeking. Neil was on his back, and Lisa was astride him, riding him as if he were a stallion.

  She kept to the shadows and inched closer. There was only one more thing she needed to see, the thin gold chain around Lisa’s neck, holding the heart pendant that Neil had claimed was an original.

  Jill retraced her steps and backed out the door, closing it softly behind her. This wasn’t the time for an ugly scene that everyone would witness. She took a deep breath and forced her lips into a smile as she descended the staircase. What Helen had told her was true. Neil had given Lisa a copy of her pendant. Or perhaps her pendant had been a copy of Lisa’s.

  “Are they up there?” Norma was waiting for her at the base of the staircase, and her eyes grew wide as Jill nodded. “You poor darling! What are you going to do?”

  Jill shrugged. “Nothing, now. And I’m trusting you not to tell anyone. Can you stay until midnight, Norma? Just in case Neil needs something and Lisa leaves?”

  “Of course.” Norma nodded quickly. “But, Jill . . . are you going to leave him?”

  “I’m not sure. But I have to talk to a friend of mine, and I’d like to do it now.”

  “I understand.” Norma looked very sympathetic. “Go ahead, Jill. It might make you feel better. And don’t worry about a thing. I’ll stay right here and watch him like a hawk until you get back.”

  * * *

  Doug sat in his apartment, staring at the Christmas tree. He’d mixed a batch of eggnog, following his grandmother’s recipe. They’d had it every Christmas Eve at the ranch, but it didn’t taste quite as delicious when there was no one to share it.

  “To Christmas!” Doug raised his glass toward Jill’s picture. He’d placed it on the center shelf of his bookcase, and it had quickly become his favorite possession. It was the most thoughtful gift he’d ever received. Besides, she really looked good in that silly outfit.

  What was she doing tonight? Doug took another sip of his drink and imagined her at home with Neil. They were probably sitting on the couch, enjoying a quiet momen
t and exchanging Christmas gifts. Perhaps they were giving a party. Jill had told him Neil’s relatives weren’t coming to visit this year, but they could have invited friends.

  Although Doug didn’t know that much about Jill, he guessed she’d be a good hostess. She’d mentioned a recipe for stuffed mushrooms once; she might have made those for appetizers. She wasn’t the type to go into a deli and buy a party platter. If Jill had a table with food, it would be filled with things she’d made herself.

  Did she have a fire in the fireplace? She’d asked him where to buy wood, and he’d given her the number of a service that delivered. He’d even told her which type burned best, and she’d thanked him for his advice.

  Doug got up and turned on his fireplace. It wasn’t real, just a gas log that was supposed to look authentic. Still, it created a nice illusion. Even though he didn’t need them, he’d bought fireplace tools to place on the hearth. The only things missing were Christmas stockings hanging from the mantel.

  It was so quiet in his apartment, Doug could hear the hiss of the gas log. He remembered how noisy the Christmas Eve parties used to be, with all the ranch hands from the bunkhouse, folks from neighboring ranches, and a gaggle of excited children waiting for Santa Claus to arrive. Christmas Eve wasn’t supposed to be quiet. It should be filled with laughter and music.

  Doug got up to turn on the stereo. One of the local stations was playing Christmas carols and that made him feel much better. He cranked up the volume and grinned as he heard a male voice sing “Up on the housetop . . .” It used to be his favorite Christmas carols. When he was a kid, he’d begged his father to let him climb up to the roof and watch for Santa, but wiser heads had prevailed. His dad had brought out a sleeping bag and tucked him in by the fireplace, promising him he’d be sure to wake him up when Santa came down the chimney. Of course he hadn’t. But the cookies and milk he’d set out for Santa were gone in the morning, and Santa had even left him a note:

  Thanks for the cookies and milk. You’ve been a good boy and your presents are under the tree. See you next year.