Flaming Tree

by Phyllis A. Whitney

  He seemed to drift back from some distant place, looking a bit startled, as though he’d forgotten they were there.

  “All right—tell me,” he said.

  She went through an account of the exercises she’d done with Jody, and described the way they’d stood him on his feet for longer than usual, and without too much protesting. Jody had listened with interest to a story, and he’d swallowed some water and apple sauce by mouth. Unfortunately, she had to relate the aftermath as well.

  “That’s risky.” Tyler was negative as usual. “He might choke. You shouldn’t take that chance.”

  “But he has to learn!” Kelsey cried. “He is teachable, you know. And I don’t think it was entirely the food that upset him. I have the feeling that something is worrying him. If that’s so, it must be awful not to be able to tell anyone what it is. Can you eat when you’re unhappy.”

  His smile was grim. “Don’t we all do that?”

  “Well, Jody can’t. He’s a frightened little boy, closed in behind a wall he can’t climb and doesn’t understand. Who would? He needs to believe he can get over that wall and change everything for himself. He needs to have something hopeful happen every day. When he can talk again, I think everything will be better.”

  “You’re always so sure, Mrs. Stewart. Sure that he’ll eat, talk—I suppose even walk. I wish I could share your confidence.”

  Ginnie had known him for a long while, and she broke in frankly, “You’re part of the problem, Tyler, and you’d better see that. You can’t glower at Jody and expect him to be happy. Maybe you have to snap out of it first. I understand what you’re feeling, but—”

  “You couldn’t possibly understand!” He looked so exasperated that for a moment Kelsey thought he might throw down his napkin and leave the table. Then, to her surprise, he laughed. “Just the same, you may be right, Ginnie. I can see you’re both against me, so I’ll try to put on a better face with Jody. Okay?”

  Ginnie smiled back at him, and some of the clouds lifted.

  This seemed a good moment for Kelsey to make a suggestion. “You’re a filmmaker—so why not record Jody’s progress from day to day, even if it’s small? This would show you what may happen.”

  Tyler looked so doubtful that she went quickly to another matter.

  “Mr. Hammond, we haven’t talked about what hours you’d like me to work. Jody will need to rest in between whatever we do. Do you mind if I go to lunch wth Marisa Marsh tomorrow?”

  “That’s fine. You’re not tied to any regular hours. Play it by ear. This is all experimental anyway. Just so you’re here at night in case he needs to be calmed down. You seem good at that. The night nurses change, and he may want someone here whom he knows when things go wrong.”

  “Of course I’ll come down whenever I’m needed,” Kelsey said. “But if it’s the middle of the night, who will let me know?”

  “There’s a phone in the hall near your room that can be used as an intercom,” Tyler said.

  “A house phone?” Kelsey repeated carefully.

  “It can be used for outside as well. Why do you sound surprised?”

  “Someone called me a little while ago on that phone in the hall. Anonymously. A disguised voice that told me not to ask so many questions.”

  Tyler stared at her. “What did you say to this person?”

  “I didn’t have a chance to say anything. Whoever it was hung up right away.”

  “Do you know anything about this, Ginnie?” Tyler asked.

  She shook her head. “How should I?”

  “I’ll look into it,” Tyler said.

  “Why should anyone worry about questions I might ask?”

  He was beginning to look aggravated again. “I’ve said I’d look into it. In the meantime, you’d better curb your curiosity.”

  Kelsey flushed, but it was pointless to defend herself. Let him think what he liked.

  “Now,” he said, “I’d like to know from you both whatever suggestions you may have for helping Jody. You’ve told me some of what you’re doing, but there must be more.”

  If this was the reason for inviting them to dinner, it was fine, and it gave Kelsey an opening she wanted. “When I walked down through the woods, I came to the little dog cemetery down there. Children who’ve lived in this house must have had a number of dogs. Has Jody ever had one?”

  “His mother doesn’t like them,” Tyler said. “So it hasn’t seemed wise.”

  Kelsey persisted. “It might mean a lot to Jody.”

  Ginnie spoke gently. “Tyler and I both know what happened. When Ruth was a little girl, her father brought home a big brute of a police dog. His kind of dog. From the first, Ruth was terrified of that animal, and her very fright got her into trouble because fear was the one thing the General could never stand in his own children. She tried to make friends with the dog, but the animal knew she was afraid, and when he jumped at her, Denis tried to intervene. So the dog bit them both. Ruth on the hand, and Denis on the arm. Denis got over it, and Ruth didn’t. Their father shot the dog then and there, and the whole episode was traumatic for both children. Ruth has never stopped being afraid of dogs.”

  The General again. He sounded a thoroughly terrible man. But under the circumstances of Jody’s need, she had to try once more.

  “This could be a little dog. The size that could lie across Jody’s knees. He could be kept out of your wife’s sight, and he might be very good for Jody. They’re doing more and more therapy with pets these days in all sorts of situations. He might even accept discomfort in order to touch a dog that would be his very own. He’d want to feed him, pet him.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Tyler said. “I don’t want to add to Ruth’s unhappiness right now. Besides, who’s going to look after a dog—feed it, walk it, keep it happy—when Jody can’t?”

  “Maybe we could all pitch in,” Ginnie said. “He needs a friendly little dog who wants to love and be loved. That shouldn’t upset Ruth.”

  Hana removed their plates and served the pecan pie Mrs. Preston had baked for dessert.

  Once more, Tyler seemed to retreat into his own distant place where he was unaware of the presence of others. When they’d finished, Ginnie excused herself and left for her apartment in Monterey—perhaps to give Kelsey a chance to talk to Tyler alone.

  When she’d gone, he seemed to return. “You appear to have made friends with Marisa Marsh, Kelsey. She called me today to say that Dr. Norman is coming. Marisa likes you.”

  “I hope she does.”

  “What do you talk about?”

  “With Marisa, I like to listen, as well as talk.”

  “You’re evading the question. Anyway, she thinks I should pay attention to what you advise.”

  “I’m grateful if she feels that way.”

  But there was more on his mind, and when he spoke again his tone had hardened. “She says you want to hear the tape she made of my interview with Francesca Fallon. Why?”

  “It sounded interesting.”

  “It wasn’t. It came closer to being a brawl. I told Marisa not to bother playing it for you.”

  “Why did you do the interview if you didn’t like Mrs. Fallon?”

  “Maybe your anonymous caller was right. Maybe you do ask too many questions.”

  “I’m sorry.” She dropped the subject quickly. “It must have been interesting growing up in Marisa’s care. She’s involved in so many things.”

  “She kept me going when I needed somebody,” Tyler said.

  “The way Jody needs you now.”

  At once the look of not-so-distant thunder was back. One of these days, the lightning would strike, and she’d be out of the house again, but, no matter what, there was one more thing she had to say. She managed to speak quietly.

  “Your son is alive, Mr. Hammond.”

  He looked shocked, perhaps even ashamed. “I’m sorry, Kelsey.” Obviously he wanted to say more—and could find no words. “Good night,” he told her as they left t
he table, and went quickly out of the room.

  In a way he was like Jody—living too much inside himself. Except that Jody wanted out, and she wasn’t sure Tyler did. He’d built his own protective cover—though from what she couldn’t tell. There was more troubling him than the terrible happening of two months ago. His marriage to Ruth? Yet he always seemed concerned for her, and considerate.

  Before she went upstairs, Kelsey looked in on the boy again, and since everything was fine, she didn’t stay.

  The phone down the hall was silent as she opened her bedroom door, though she glanced at it uneasily.

  Right now she needed distraction, and she regretted that she’d brought no books with her to read. Nor did she feel like writing to anyone. She had sent her parents a note when she arrived, and she would write again soon. But not now. They had their own quiet lives, somewhat removed from the real world, and they had a right to that. The painful troubles their daughter had experienced had hurt them deeply and it was kinder to let them alone. They were relieved that she was supposedly living safely with Elaine, and that was enough for now.

  When someone tapped on her door, she opened it to find Denis. His smile seemed genuine this time, and not put on as a front. When she invited him in, he surprised her by enveloping her in a hug, and whirling her about the room.

  “You’ve stirred up my sister, Kelsey,” he said, as he dropped into a chair, laughing. “Maybe she’ll try a little more now. Though she still has the idea that she’ll never walk again. If Dora can at least get her into her wheelchair, as she did today, it will be something. She’s even thinking more positively about Jody. I only wish—” He broke off and left the thought unfinished.

  “Tyler’s the obstacle, isn’t he?” Kelsey asked.

  “It’s always Tyler. Did you ask him about those beads I found on my desk?”

  “I never thought of it, and I wouldn’t have asked anyway. I don’t even know why you think he put them there.”

  “Because he’s the one who had them.”

  “At least I’ve remembered where I saw such beads before, Denis. It was in Marisa’s studio—in that photograph of Francesca Fallon. She was wearing a long strand of black beads in that picture. Are they the same ones?”

  “Ask Marisa sometime. She knows.”

  Clearly he didn’t want to talk further about the beads. “I’m meeting Marisa for lunch tomorrow,” she told Denis. “She said we’d drive into the Valley.”

  “That sounds good. I always feel better about everything after a visit with Marisa. At least most of the time.”

  She caught the hint of reservation, but let it go. Whatever had happened in Ruth’s room seemed to have relieved some of Denis’s own worry, so that he was willing to sit quietly and listen.

  Kelsey told him about the phone call she’d answered, but he looked more puzzled than disturbed.

  “I don’t know who it could have been, Kelsey. It wouldn’t be Ruth, or Dora, or Ginnie. Or me.”

  “You mean that leaves Tyler?”

  “Who knows? He’s not the most open person in the world. And he can do some pretty strange things.”

  “But there’d be no reason. If he wanted to warn me about anything, he’d tell me straight out. And I’ve come here at his request.” She couldn’t even consider Tyler.

  Denis stood up. “I wanted to let you know that everything is fine now between Ruth and me. So I’d better get back, since I’m on duty at the inn tonight. I don’t want to push Elaine too far by being late.”

  As she came to the door with him, the phone rang again. Denis looked at her, and then went quickly to answer it. After a moment of asking who was there, he just put the phone down.

  “Whoever was on didn’t want me, Kelsey. Maybe you’d better not answer after this.”

  At least it wasn’t Denis who was doing this. “I have to,” she said. “I might be needed with Jody.”

  For a moment longer he stood looking at her. Then he touched her cheek affectionately. “I’m sorry if this has upset you, but it probably doesn’t mean much. Just lock your door at night, Kelsey. I’ll see you.”

  His walk was almost jaunty as he went off down the hall, and now the phone stayed silent.

  The need for something to read was still strong. Tomorrow she must certainly see if there was a library in the house. If not, there’d been books on the shelves in Tyler’s study, and she would find something to read there.

  Though it was still early, she got ready for bed. The day had been long and emotionally strenuous, so perhaps she could fall asleep. It seemed the right choice, and she slept almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

  At two in the morning, by the small clock on her bedtable, she came wide awake, feeling much too tense and wakeful. Early morning hours were always the worst. These were the mournful hours when all her sorrows were her own. Missing Mark. Always that sudden stab of pain; thoughts of the husband who hadn’t cared enough to give her his support; the emptiness of her personal life—all these were churning in her now, with no way to make the hurting stop. In the daytime, Jody’s needs could absorb her, but in these night hours she was totally at the mercy of her own thoughts.

  When she could bear it no longer, she got up, put on a robe, and went to stand on the balcony, looking out over dark treetops toward water that shone like rippling satin under the stars. A few lights gleamed here and there, but most of the area toward Carmel lay asleep. The quiet was intense, broken only by the occasional hooting of an owl, and the sound of an ocean that never slept.

  Closer among the trees, something caught her eye—a flashlight moved on the dark hillside below the house. Was Tyler up at this hour wandering about, as unable to sleep as she was? She went back inside and made up her mind. Books were as important as food, and somewhere in this house she’d find something to read. She couldn’t endure her own thoughts, and she couldn’t sleep. Nor could she make plans for Jody in her present state.

  She took her small flashlight with her into the hall. One light burned near the stairs. Otherwise, everything was dark and still. The far door to Ruth’s room was closed, and she had no idea where Tyler slept. Using her light and moving softly, she found the stairs and went down into the living room that seemed to stretch into a black, empty cave.

  When she shone the flashlight around, paintings on the walls stared at her briefly, and disappeared as the beam moved on. The balcony door was closed, and the room felt clammy. She suspected it would echo with its own voice if she stumbled into furniture. There seemed to be no bookshelves here, and it was probably a room no longer used very much. However, if there was a library, it ought to be close by.

  Her light picked out a door that stood open to the right of the big fireplace. Cautiously, she crossed the room, avoiding chairs, and turned the beam inside. The light spotted bookshelves, and she stood in the doorway for a moment, seeking a light switch. A small rustling sound reached her.

  “Is anyone here?” she asked. The living room behind her threw her voice against its walls, but there was no further sound in the quiet library.

  A window stood open, and the rustle could have come from trees outdoors. She found the switch and turned off her flashlight as she started down the room. It was probably half the size of the living room, but still large, and filled satisfyingly with bookshelves.

  Another time she would explore titles and learn what was here. For now, she chose a shelf at random, and found a row of old novels, smiling as she pulled down a well-worn copy of The Prisoner of Zenda. She hadn’t read Anthony Hope’s old chestnut since she was twelve. The adventures of Rudolf Rasendyll seemed exactly right—another place and time, pure escape, was what she needed.

  She turned to leave with her prize and saw the woman who sat curled into a great wing chair. The back of the chair had hidden Ruth Hammond as Kelsey walked into the room. No wheelchair stood nearby, and it was unlikely that she’d been carried here and left alone. Shock held Kelsey dead still, and as they stared at each other,
she saw the challenge in the very set of Ruth’s head, yet at the same time an uncertainty in her eyes.

  “So now you know,” Ruth said. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Kelsey had no idea what she was going to do. Obviously, Ruth had been living a lie. Her presence in this room at this hour could mean only one thing—that she could walk, and that this further misery that had been thrust upon her husband was needless. Unexpectedly, a sudden warm sympathy for Tyler—a feeling she hadn’t experienced as strongly as this since Tor House—rushed through Kelsey. As though some floodgate had opened and let in something she couldn’t welcome.

  Ruth watched her sadly. “I can see what you’ll do. Tyler has that effect on women, so now you’ll condemn me without a hearing.”

  “I don’t want to condemn anyone,” Kelsey said, trying to recover her own composure. “I’d like to sit down and talk a little.”

  “It’s time,” Ruth said. “Pull over a chair.”

  Kelsey drew a leather chair to where Ruth sat wrapped in her fleecy white robe, and sat down, still shaken, not only by what she’d discovered about Ruth, but even more because of the flash of warm emotion she’d felt toward Tyler. And must not experience—not to this extent!

  “So what shall we talk about?” Ruth’s tone held mockery again, though Kelsey sensed that this might be a shield, and that a terrible insecurity might exist underneath.

  “We needn’t talk at all, unless you want to,” she said.

  Ruth uncurled her legs and stretched them out in front of her, slippers dangling from her toes. Then she stood up, stretched her arms over her head, and moved easily about the room, to come to a halt in front of Kelsey.

  “As you can see, there’s nothing wrong with either my back or my legs—as of course the doctors have told me all along. As soon as I’d recovered a bit, I made Dora help me out of bed when no one was around. I didn’t want to become weak and helpless—I needed my strength to fight with. Though to seem helpless has been a necessary protection. I exercise in my room, with Dora on guard. Sometimes I roam around the house in the middle of the night. When the nurse wasn’t looking I’ve stood in Jody’s doorway watching him sleep. It’s better to stay quiet during the day and pretend to be weak and ill, while I move about at night. I heard you on the stairs just now, and turned out the light, hoping you’d go away.”