Estelle giggled like a schoolgirl as she carefully wrote her number down with the stub of a pencil. “What happened to the two little Evans girls? I heard talk in the neighborhood that you took them in. The little one with the terrible birthmark, is she okay? She was such a dear little thing. I sometimes have to ask myself what God was thinking when He did that to her. And the other little one, too pretty for her own good. It didn’t seem fair to me. Then there was that really weird woman who was so nosy and always skulking about.”
“Yes, I did take the girl in. And after I got married, I adopted them.” He shook his head in confusion. “But I don’t know the weird woman you’re talking about unless you mean Harriet.”
“No, not Harriet. I remember her. Oh, well. It doesn’t matter. Sometimes my memory is good and sometimes it isn’t. You really adopted those two little girls? That’s wonderful, Donovan. That’s why God blessed you with such good fortune. John was a good man. A nice neighbor. He always took my Christmas-tree lights down for me. He said if you put them on, he’d take them off. It was such a shame. I’m no hypocrite, but I didn’t much care for Harriet. She had, in my opinion, a high snoot factor. I could never figure that out. The girls, are they okay?”
“They’re well and happy,” Donovan said, hoping it was true. “Perhaps you’ll see them one of these days, but I don’t know if they’ll remember you. They were awfully young.”
“So unfortunate,” she said, her thoughts obviously still on John’s untimely death. “We were all in shock. I remember you flying back from somewhere. You were in a daze for weeks. So sad.”
It was worse than sad, he thought. It was devastating. Once he’d gotten the initial decision making over, he’d gone into a long funk. “Yes, it was sad,” he agreed. “Well, I have to be on my way.” At the door he hugged the little woman, marveling at how she smelled the same after all these years. Lavender and lemon, she told him eons ago. Better than any perfume. “Will you promise to bake cookies for me when you’re in your new condo?”
“Every Friday is baking day. You stop by on any Friday afternoon, and they’ll be waiting for you. Bless you, Donovan. I’ll say a prayer for your boy.”
It was dark when Donovan climbed into his rental car. He headed back to the Friendly Shop for coffee to drink on the way to the hospital. He decided he should probably call Carol and tell her where he was and that he was on the way back. Thirty minutes later, Donovan dialed the number he’d taken from Bobby’s bedside phone. “How are you, son?”
“Okay, Dad. Where are you?”
“In Edison. I’m on the way back to the hospital. I took a drive around the old neighborhood and stopped for coffee. I saw one of my old neighbors, an elderly lady, waiting for a taxi with her groceries, so I gave her a ride home. She invited me in for the best cookies in the world. She was lonely, so I visited with her for a while. Where’s your mother?”
“Seeing if she can get a room here at the hospital. Dad, will you make her go home? All she does is fuss and fret over me. I’m gonna be okay. Hey, Abby called. I talked to her for about fifteen minutes. She said she and Mallory are coming up this way and will stop to visit. Don’t tell Mom, okay?”
“Don’t tell Mom what?” Donovan heard Carol ask in the background.
“That a girl just came to see me,” Bobby said sourly.
“Is that your father on the phone? I want to talk to him.” Donovan heard Bobby grumble. “Where have you been, Donovan?” Carol asked, her voice throbbing with anger.
“Here and there. I went by the old neighborhood. Then I went to Friendly’s for coffee and met Mrs. Lascaris and gave her a ride home.”
“Lookie-loo Lascaris! I bet she had a ton of gossip for you. That woman never missed a trick. She knew everyone’s business, and what she didn’t know she made up.”
“That’s not fair, Carol. She’s a kind, gentle old lady no one cares about. I made her a deal on the model condo in the new complex, and she’s going to sell her place and move in.”
“You didn’t! Good God, tell me you didn’t.”
“I did and that’s that. She’s eighty-two years old and she barely squeaks by on her pension. She keeps her heat turned low because of the high gas bills. She wears two sweaters and heavy wool socks and she eats Spam and macaroni and cheese. That’s no way to live, Carol. It’s in my power to help her, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. If you don’t like it, screw it.” He’d never talked to Carol like that before, and he wasn’t sure how she would react.
“Do what you want. I don’t care. Are you talking about the model in Camellia Haven, the one I decorated?”
“That’s the one!”
There was such outrage in Carol’s voice. Donovan winced when she said, “All that work for an eighty-two-year-old lady who probably wears Depends.”
“For crying out loud, Mom,” Donovan heard Bobby say. “Don’t you two ever stop? Go on, Mom. Go back to the hotel. My coach and a couple of the guys are coming by in a little while. Dad?”
This time it was Bobby who had the phone. “I heard you, son. I’ll be at the Hyatt in New Brunswick if you need me. Do you want me to get you anything?”
“I’m good. Jell-O, cookies, Mars bars, and a banana. What more could I want? The guys will probably bring some pizza.”
“I’ll see you in the morning before I leave, Bobby,” Donovan said.
“I’ll be staying,” Carol said in the background.
Carol arrived at the hotel just as Donovan was checking in. As soon as they were in their room, she tossed her coat and purse onto the king-size bed with its muted orange bedspread. After the way he’d talked back to her on the phone, he’d expected his wife to be in a red-hot rage. Instead, she was acting like Miss Congeniality.
“Let’s do room service for dinner, okay?”
“Fine with me,” he said, tossing his jacket over the closest chair. It was going to be a long night. He could tell. She was waiting for him to get settled in before hauling out the big guns. But this time he was prepared. This time he was going to stand up to her, regardless of the outcome
Donovan gathered his things from his overnight bag, waiting for what he thought was the inevitable: a rip-roaring tirade. He watched as Carol sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off her shoes.
“I want to apologize to you, Donovan, for … everything,” she said.
It was the ring of truth in her voice that stopped him on his way to the bathroom. Eyes narrowing, he turned around and stared at her, waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.
“I know now that I have been out of line. I’ve been trying to ride this midlife thing out on my own, but it isn’t working. When we go home, I’m going to get a GYN checkup and get some hormones. Everything you said on the ride here is true. It’s me, not you. The business with Abby just rocked my world out from under me. I loved that girl. I still love her just the way I love Bobby. I consider both of them mine even though I didn’t give birth to them. I can’t tell you how many times I picked up the phone to call Abby, but then I’d either set it down or dial the number and break the connection before the machine picked up. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to admit I was wrong. And you were right about me trying to control Bobby the way I did Abby. I hate myself for it, Donovan. I really do. And I hate it that we say ugly, hurtful things to each other. I love you. I always will. I think part of my problem is that I’ve never been one hundred percent sure in my own mind that you loved me as much as I loved you. Sometimes I think you just married me to be a mother to Abby and Mallory,” Carol said tearfully.
He didn’t know what to say, what to do. She acted sincere, but she’d acted sincere before when she wasn’t. Could it be that her behavior really was due to menopause? He’d heard enough TV and radio doctors talk about it to know that some women went through sheer hell. But was Carol one of them, or was this just an excuse for being a full-time bitch? He felt a twinge of something as he did his best to swallow his anger. Everybody deserved a seco
nd chance, and who was he to deny Carol hers?
“C’mere,” he said, holding out his arms to her.
Carol snuggled into her husband’s arms. “I’m going to the hospital tomorrow and apologize to Bobby, then I’m going to call Abby and apologize. If she doesn’t answer the phone, I’ll write her a letter.”
“And as soon as we get home, you’ll make that doctor’s appointment, right?”
“I promise. Pretty soon everything will be just the way it used to be.”
“Good. Now what should we order for dinner. I’m starving.”
They’d made good time. They left Charleston around ten in the morning, stopped for lunch and a couple of bathroom breaks, and were on the outskirts of Atlanta. Mallory had called Dr. Oldmeyer only to find out that she wouldn’t be able to see her until the following morning.
“There’s a Holiday Inn,” Abby said, pointing off to the left. “Let’s stop there, relax, and have a nice dinner. What time is our appointment?”
“Ten.” Mallory started to hum a tune, then stopped suddenly. “Do you know any lullabies, Abby?”
Abby looked askance at her sister. “I know that hush little baby one. Why?”
“Will you sing it to me when we go to sleep?”
The fine hairs on the back of Abby’s neck stood at attention. “Ah … sure,” she said hesitantly. She started to shake. “You aren’t going to take … Mama to bed with you, are you?”
“I was just thinking about that. Maybe just this one night unless you think it will spook you?”
“It will spook me. Please don’t. Leave the urn in the car.”
“Okay but … It doesn’t seem right somehow,” Mallory said, her voice sounding childlike.
A scream started to build in Abby’s throat. “Why the hell not? God only knows how long she was wedged between that papier-mâché castle and that can of Pick-up Sticks. Closet, car, what difference does it make?”
Mallory sat up straight. “Hey, hey, easy does it here. Okay. I’m not arguing with you. She … I mean, the urn stays in the car. No problem.”
“Thank you very much, Mallory.”
They checked in, inspected the room before they carried their bags in from the car. Mallory unpacked her cosmetic bag and blow-dryer and announced that she was going to take a long, hot shower.
Abby reached for her cell phone and dialed Steve’s office number. The second he picked up she could hear dogs barking in the background. “Hi, it’s me,” she said in a tired voice. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine here. How about you? I was beginning to worry when I didn’t hear from you.”
Abby smiled into the receiver. It was comforting to know he worried about her. “We found Mama’s urn,” she said. “But we couldn’t find anything else. We’ve decided to ask Donovan if he saved anything.”
“Hang on a minute, Abby, I have to write out a prescription and give it to my assistant.” He was back a moment later. “So what’s next on the agenda?” he asked.
“We have a ten o’clock appointment to see Constance Oldmeyer, Mallory’s doctor. After I hang up from you, I’m going to call the airlines and schedule an afternoon flight into New Jersey to see Bobby. I guess we might be home late tomorrow night or early the next morning. Do the dogs miss me?”
When he didn’t immediately answer, Abby got nervous. “Steve …”
“I don’t think they miss you as much as you’d like them to,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Again, he delayed answering her. She pressed her ear to the phone and heard sounds … whimpers and whines.
“They’re all here on the visiting couch with me,” he admitted with a reluctance that came through loud and clear.
Abby started to laugh. The visiting couch was a battered old sofa he kept in the back for customers to sit on while they visited their ailing pets. She could just see him sitting there with all seven dogs trying to cuddle up next to him.
“Thanks for taking care of them,” she said. “I love you.”
It was nine o’clock in the morning when Mallory pulled alongside the Argone security guard for the second time in three days and offered up her alias. “They have to call Dr. Oldmeyer to clear us through,” she explained when the guard turned away.
“You can drive up to the building, miss, but Dr. Oldmeyer wanted me to tell you she’s been delayed and can’t see you till eleven o’clock. She suggested a stroll around the grounds. She’ll meet you on the bench under the magnolia tree.”
“This is beautiful,” Abby said stretching her neck to view the rolling emerald lawns.
“Yes it is. All the rooms have a great view of the lawns and gardens. When I first got here, I used to cry because I wanted to run barefoot through the grass. You had to be really, really special to be able to do that.” Mallory steered into the parking lot and cut the engine. For long minutes, she sat staring at the building.
“Mallory, are you all right?” Abby asked with concern. She wasn’t sure how to interpret the peculiar expression on her sister’s face.
Mallory climbed out and stood by the car door. “Yeah, I’m fine. You know, if it wasn’t for Constance, I’d still be in there.” She gestured toward the pink-brick building. “The other doctors gave up on me. That’s the part that really hurts. Not Constance, though. The day she told me I could call her by her first name was the day I knew it was all going to work out. Isn’t that strange? Just a little thing like that. She let me go outside and run barefoot through the grass as much as I wanted. Sometimes we’d both take off our shoes and play tag. We did a lot of kid stuff that I had missed. Don’t say anything, Abby. I’m okay with it now. I guess I’m just trying to make conversation. I saw where you lived all those years. I want you to see where I lived.”
“Mallory, I know I’ve said this before, but I do so wish things had been different.”
“So do I, Abby. We grow and we learn. It’s called life. Neither one of us can unring the bell.”
Side by side they strolled through the gardens. “That’s a beautiful pool and tennis court. Are you a good tennis player?”
“I have no idea. I never played. In all the years I was here, I never saw anyone on the court. Actually, I never saw anyone in the pool either. Yet, both are maintained. There’s a heated pool indoors, too. I never saw anyone in it either.”
“Maybe that was because you were locked up all the time.”
“That’s true, but I talked to some of the other kids and they’d never seen them being used either. Schools like this … they’re big-money operations. I think the pools and the tennis court are just for show. The clients … the parents … are led to believe their kid is going to have access to all the amenities. It’s soothing to their consciences to think their juvenile delinquent won’t be totally deprived. They have no idea what the truth is. No idea at all. Get it through your head, Abby, every single one of us here was a throwaway.”
“Why didn’t you tell Donovan? You could have called or written.”
Mallory waved her hand in front of Abby’s face. “Earth to Abby. Phones? Surely you jest! Now, letters … Letters were okay. Of course, they went through a thorough examination first to make sure they didn’t contain anything they shouldn’t. You know, like complaints? By the time the letter was acceptable, it was pretty generic. You could have almost written a form letter and just filled in the blanks every time you sent it out.”
“So why didn’t you tell him when he came to visit?”
“Our visits … how many were there? Three? Four? I don’t recall. Anyway, our visits were supervised. I couldn’t say anything. But even if I could have told him, I don’t know if he would have cared or that he would have believed me. Why did he adopt us anyway?”
Abby shrugged. “Because our father was Donovan’s best friend, and he felt responsible.”
“Look!” Mallory pointed to the caretaker’s cottage. “Doesn’t it remind you of our old house in New Jersey, the way the roof slants over th
e front door? I remember everything about that house, even what the wallpaper in my bedroom looked like, all those little roses on that blue background. How about you? Do you remember it?”
“Not the house so much, but I remember running across the yard to Donovan’s. I think I remember his house better than ours. Ours was brown and his was a kind of earthy green.” Abby checked her watch. “It’s almost time to meet Constance. We should be heading back.”
“There she is,” Mallory said, pointing toward Argone’s front steps. “Uh-oh, something’s wrong. I can tell by the look on her face.”
Abby felt a bolt of fear run up her spine.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Dr. Oldmeyer, this is my sister Abby. Abby, my dear friend, Dr. Constance Oldmeyer.”
The psychiatrist held out her hand. “Mallory has told me so much about you. I feel I already know you,” the psychiatrist said looking Abby squarely in the eye. The sincerity and concern in the woman’s eyes eased the tension between Abby’s shoulders.
Dr. Oldmeyer didn’t look anything like Abby had expected, which was a tall, stylish, coiffed, and manicured professional. Instead, she looked like a gentle, elderly woman. The motherly type. Not a psychiatrist. “She’s told me a great deal about you, too,” Abby replied.
“Let’s sit down,” Constance suggested. She glanced down at her watch. “I’ve so looked forward to seeing you two together and spending time with you, but it doesn’t look like today is the day. There’s a very important meeting I must attend in fifteen minutes. It has something to do with one of the school’s major contributors canceling a sizable contribution the board was counting on.”
Abby glanced at Mallory and knew by her sister’s expression that they were both wondering the same thing. But it was Mallory who asked the question.
“Is it Donovan?”
Constance reached for Mallory’s hand and covered it with her own. “I won’t know until I go to the meeting. But all things considered, I think it’s entirely possible.”
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