You Can Run...

by Carlene Thompson

  Diana was on the verge of repeating her demand when two young nurses swept past them, talking loudly. “Who could have put firecrackers in the restroom?” one of them asked, her face flushed with excitement. “I didn’t see anybody.”

  The other nurse shrugged tiredly. “It’s been busy. That woman in five-oh-eight has buzzed for me at least ten times. All of the patients seem agitated and demanding tonight. No one working the floor noticed who went in and out of that restroom.” She sighed. “It’s not the Fourth of July or Halloween, so why tonight of all nights would someone go to the trouble of creating such pandemonium?”

  A cold chill rippled down Diana’s back. She clutched Willow even tighter, the young nurse’s words echoing in her mind. Why tonight of all nights would someone go to the trouble of creating such pandemonium? Diana looked back at the door of Room 501, where she and Willow had lain, supposedly asleep—the room where someone had been hiding—and suddenly she knew why somebody set off the firecrackers. . . .

  To produce chaos while they committed murder in Room 501, then slip out and escape down the back stairs completely unnoticed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  1

  “We’ll have to break the law in order to get you home today,” Diana said as Willow crawled into the back of the car and Diana fastened a seat belt around her. “You’re supposed to be in a booster seat but I don’t have one.”

  “I hate the booster seat. It’s for babies.”

  “Nevertheless, the State of West Virginia says you must sit in an approved booster seat if you’re under eight years old.”

  Willow looked glum then perked up a bit. “How long am I gonna stay with you and Uncle Simon?”

  “Oh, a few days.” Diana shut the car door quickly. She hoped her vague answer would satisfy Willow, but “vague” never worked with Willow. The child’s insistence on exact answers had always amazed Diana.

  “How long is a few days?” Willow asked as soon as Diana sat down in the driver’s seat. She made a production of slamming the car door and fastening her seat belt while she tried to think of a satisfactory answer. Finally she said, “Until Romeo and Christabel get tired of you.”

  Willow giggled. Diana felt a wave of relief and encouragement. The child hadn’t even smiled since Diana had hugged her in the emergency room. “Romeo and Christabel love me almost as much as they love each other,” Willow informed Diana, referring to Simon’s “mature” cat, Romeo, and Diana’s young beauty, Christabel. “They won’t want me to go home.”

  “Well, they rule the household, so that means a long visit for you, young lady. Uncle Simon and I want you to stay, too, Willow. And I forgot to tell you something. Your neighbor, Mrs. Hanson, is also staying with us!”

  “Clarice!” the child exclaimed. “She told me to call her Clarice, not Mrs. Hanson, just like Simon told me to call him Uncle Simon. I like Clarice a whole lot. So does Mommy. But why is she stayin’ at your house?”

  “Her house got burned, too, but just a little bit.” Diana backed out of her parking space and sped to the entrance of the parking lot. She felt as if she couldn’t get home fast enough. “Clarice stayed up late and talked with Uncle Simon and me last night. She seems like a really nice person. She’s funny, too.”

  “She’s real funny. And she cooks good. And she’s got lots of rel’tives. I’m friends with one of her gran’girls, Sue. Sue’s big sister, Katy, is real old, like thirteen. She’s sorta nice but she never wants to play with us ’cause she doesn’t wanna mess up her hair. I don’t know why—it looks like a bird nest.” Willow sighed. “That’s just how teenagers are, though,” she ended in a world-weary voice.

  Diana tried not to grin. “Did Clarice tell you about teenagers?”

  “Yeah, she did.” She paused. “When’s Mommy gettin’ out of the hospital?”

  Diana looked in the mirror again to see the little girl’s blue eyes full of sadness. The eyes also held a small, pitiful glimmer of hope, and Diana could not take that hope away from the child, even though she was almost certain she would be lying.

  “Your mommy will come home just as soon as she’s better. The doctors are doing everything they can to help her get well. We have to believe they can do it, Willow. Your mother needs for us to believe it.”

  Doubt flickered in the child’s gaze for an instant. Then Diana saw her take a deep breath before she said with resolution, “Then we will believe it. We’ll believe it with all our hearts like we believe Tinker Bell will live in Peter Pan and she does.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Diana knew an adult would catch the loud insincerity of her voice, but Willow seemed somewhat soothed. Her change of expression was well worth any lie, Diana thought, and maybe, just maybe, she was telling the truth after all.

  The heavy mugginess of yesterday had lifted, leaving the air warm, gentle, almost caressing. Diana looked at the cloudless, crystalline blue sky with its pale lemon of a sun. The world had turned beautiful, she thought, as if trying to make up for the destructive inferno of last night. A comfortable temperature and a pretty sky could not mend Penny, though. An image of her seared, blistered face flashed in Diana’s mind, and she felt a stabbing pain in her stomach. She almost let out a small cry but caught herself, glancing back at Willow.

  The child’s earlier chattiness had stopped abruptly and now she sat looking small and somewhat ethereal with her beautiful long hair and her big shadowed eyes. She stared down at her clasped hands. Diana didn’t know if she was praying—she didn’t even know if Penny and Willow were religious—and she felt a prick of shame. How could she know so little about the two people she loved most in the world except for Simon? Was she so self-consumed she hadn’t bothered to learn who Penny and Willow really were, to learn something about their thoughts, their beliefs, their desires?

  Apparently so, Diana thought dismally, so ashamed of herself she could have cried. And now I want to shed tears for my failure, Diana chastised herself. Do I always think of myself? Tears can’t change the past and tears can’t help the young child who seems to have no one else in the world except for Simon and me. Well, we will take care of her, Diana told herself fiercely. We will put our very best efforts into taking care of Penny’s little girl.

  “Do you like the dress I’m wearing?” Willow asked, pulling Diana from her reverie.

  “I think it’s very pretty. The nurse was certainly thoughtful to bring some of her little girl’s clothes for you to wear home today.”

  Willow fingered the blue gingham of her full skirt. “She was nice. She smelled good, too, like vanilla.” She paused. “Do I have to wear this dress until Mommy gets well?”

  Diana laughed. “Of course not, Willow. The dress is pretty, but it’s not right for scrambling around on the floor with the cats or playing outside. Besides, the nurse’s little girl might need the dress, so I’ll have to return it soon. I’m going to buy you some new clothes this afternoon. Jeans and cotton shorts and tops. What else would you like?”

  “Sneakers. And I want a crown for when I play queen. I had one at my house.”

  “Certainly, you may have a crown. Do you remember where your mommy bought it, Your Royal Highness?”

  Willow giggled then said helpfully, “At a store.”

  “Oh. Well, maybe I can call some stores before I go shopping and see if they carry crowns for queens. And you need underwear and socks.”

  “And ’jamas,” Willow said. “The people at the hospital didn’t give my pink ones back. They were my favorites.”

  “We’ll get pretty, new pink pajamas. Maybe some blue ones, too. I also have to buy a few things for Clarice, although maybe the fire didn’t reach the bedroom where she kept her clothes.” Diana could have bitten her tongue for mentioning the fire again and said quickly, “You should have seen what she had to sleep in last night, Willow! It was the funniest-looking nightgown and robe ever made!”

  Diana managed to keep up a riotously exaggerated story about the negligee until they began climbing the n
arrow, circling roads of Ritter Park. At last she saw the large stucco, red-tiled roof of the Van Etton house sitting on a knoll in the center of its four-acre grounds, both the house and the lawn beautifully maintained and drenched in sunlight. Diana had never in her life been so glad to see the place. She pulled her car into the long driveway winding up to the house, parked, and before she’d been able to loosen Willow from her seat belt, Simon rushed out the front door to greet them. He gave Diana a glancing kiss on the cheek, then swept Willow up in his arms.

  “How is the most beautiful little girl in the whole wide world?” he boomed.

  “I’m real happy to get away from the hospital, and I’m extra happy to see you!”

  Willow gave Simon a smacking loud kiss on his jaw and laughed as he swung her around in a circle, holding her away from him. “Do you know who else is staying here with us?” he asked.

  “Clarice! Diana told me.”

  “Diana, you simply cannot keep a secret,” Simon pretended to scold, winking at her. “Clarice and I have been up since dawn waiting on the two of you!”

  Clarice emerged through the front door, leaning on the walker Simon must have found for her. She wore the dress she’d had on last night and had pulled her silvery hair back in a French twist. She looked paler and still tired, although she smiled brightly.

  “Willow, darling!” she cried as she slowly made her way to the car. “I’m so happy you’re here. I haven’t gotten to see you since last Monday, the day before you went into the hospital!”

  “That’s was a long time ago,” Willow replied. “I’m happy we both get to stay here with Diana and Uncle Simon.”

  Which would not have happened without Simon’s influence, Diana thought. In circumstances like Willow’s, Child Protective Services, CPS, normally took charge of the parentless child. Early this morning, though, Simon had reached Diana at the hospital and told her he’d spoken to one of his former students who now had an executive position with CPS. The ex-student had vouched for Simon and Diana, and the government agency had given permission for Willow to stay in the Van Etton home while they searched for her relatives. Diana knew that being taken away by strangers would have been terrifying for an already traumatized child.

  “Clarice, you and Simon are looking well for two people who went to bed late and got up at dawn,” Diana said.

  Clarice’s eyes widened. “Where did you get the idea we were up at dawn?”

  Diana looked at Simon, who quickly said, “Seven thirty, dawn—so close together. And I agree that Clarice looks well, but you, Diana, obviously did not spend a comfortable night.”

  “That’s a long story,” Diana mumbled. When Simon’s eyebrows went up, she said, “I’ll explain later. Let’s go inside. If I don’t get a cup of decent coffee, I’ll collapse right here in the driveway.”

  Nan Murphy, the temporary housekeeper, hovered in the entrance hall. As usual, Diana marveled at the nineteen-year-old woman with the body of a Las Vegas showgirl and the face of a horse. She always imagined there had been some terrible genetic mix-up in which one girl’s head had been mistakenly placed on another’s body. Diana felt ashamed of the thought, but she couldn’t quash it, no matter how hard she tried.

  Nan wore a slightly above-the-knee-length denim skirt from which her long, beautiful, tanned legs emerged, ending in white canvas tennis shoes. Her short-sleeved white blouse looked fresh and crisp although obviously a size too large, probably bought at her mother’s insistence to hide Nan’s voluptuous curves. Her thick, light-brown hair fell in glorious waves around her equine face with its elongated nose, wide nostrils, and broad, flat forehead. Her large dark eyes, which could have been her face’s redeeming feature, sat far apart and bore no expression. Nan always appeared to be looking at a world that stirred absolutely no emotion in her.

  “Our second guest has arrived,” Simon announced to her gaily as he carried Willow inside.

  Nan stared at Willow, who finally gave the young woman a shy “Hello.” Nan merely nodded and stared some more.

  Obviously annoyed, Simon asked sharply, “Is there plenty of fresh coffee for Diana? And I believe Penny told me Willow likes apple juice in the morning. Do you want apple juice, sweetheart?” Willow nodded. Nan stood rooted to the Oriental rug until Simon snapped, “Well, how about it, Nan? May we have coffee and apple juice?”

  “Yeah, if that’s what you want,” Nan managed in her toneless voice. She’d opened her mouth just enough to show large, protruding teeth. “I guess you want me to serve it?”

  “In the library, if you please,” Simon said with strained patience. “And bring some cinnamon buns and the blueberry Danish I bought yesterday.”

  Nan turned and, without a word, walked slowly toward the kitchen. “Still service with a smile, I see,” Diana muttered.

  Simon rolled his eyes. “I cannot wait until her mother is well enough to come back to work. Honestly, I don’t know how someone as energetic and pleasant as Martha Murphy could have a daughter like Nan. The girl must take after her father, whom I never knew.”

  “If Nan took after him, I’m sure you’re glad you didn’t know him.” As Simon led them into the library, Diana smiled at Clarice. “How was your night?”

  “I slept, although I was certain I couldn’t. You do look tired, though, Diana. Hospital beds are so uncomfortable,” Clarice went on. “I felt guilty sleeping in that lovely bedroom, thinking of you and Willow spending the night in a hospital room.”

  Willow piped up eagerly. “Where’s Romeo and Christabel?”

  Simon looked at Willow. “You know Romeo and Christabel run every time someone comes to the door. As soon as they hear your voice, they’ll be back in two minutes flat.”

  “Maybe they forgot me,” Willow mourned. “I haven’t seen ’em for ages and ages.”

  “It’s really only been eight days since you saw them,” Simon corrected gently. “They certainly aren’t going to forget their favorite little girl in eight days.”

  As if on cue, the two cats entered the library. Christabel, Diana’s cat, pranced in with her long black-and-white fur freshly brushed and fluffy, her gigantic tail held high, and made her way straight to Willow. Romeo, as usual, trailed right behind her. He was gray, three times Christabel’s size, and possessed only three legs, a fact that slowed him down only slightly. He followed Christabel to Willow, who immediately dropped to the floor and pulled both cats onto her lap.

  “I’ve missed you so much!” she exclaimed rapturously, hugging the felines. Christabel uttered a soft, sweet trill. Romeo followed suit by emitting his usual greeting that sounded remarkably like a duck’s unusually loud quack. Clarice, who had obviously not heard the cat’s robust, bizarre vocals, looked at him in shock.

  “See, Clarice, I told you he quacks!” Willow giggled.

  “Yes, you did, but I believed . . . Well, I thought—”

  “You thought she was exaggerating.” Simon laughed, delighted. “I was stunned the first time I heard his dulcet tones, too. I thought he’d just eaten a very large duck.”

  “Romeo wouldn’t hurt a duck!” Willow defended the cat passionately. “Romeo loves ducks.”

  “Actually, I don’t think he knows any ducks.” Simon looked at Clarice. “Several years ago Diana was here one weekend when he turned up. In his past, his hind leg had been professionally amputated and the wound neatly healed—someone had once taken good care of him. That day, though, his fur was tangled and he obviously hadn’t eaten much for a while. He was flea-ridden, starving, and meowing—or rather, quacking—his head off.

  “Diana rushed outside and had him in the kitchen, gobbling everything she put in front of him, before I knew what was happening,” Simon continued. “She was married then and her husband claimed to be allergic to cats, so she couldn’t keep him. I placed an ad in the newspaper and attached a few fliers to trees, but no one claimed him. A week later, I called Diana to tell her the cat had a permanent home with me. She named him Romeo.”

  �
��That’s because I knew you would give him an impossible-to-pronounce name of some Egyptian pharaoh,” Diana said defensively.

  “So I would have, but considering that he’s fallen head over paws in love with Christabel, I think you chose the perfect name for him.”

  Nan walked into the room carrying a tray with coffee, apple juice, and pastries. Her flat stare locked onto the cats.

  “What’s the matter, Nan?” Simon asked pleasantly. Diana stifled a smile. Simon knew Nan couldn’t stand the cats.

  Nan jerked her head at Romeo. “That gray one gets fur all over the rugs the way he drags himself around.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we have an excellent vacuum cleaner,” Simon returned equably, reaching for the coffeemaker’s glass carafe, not the elegant silver coffee pot that he preferred when coffee was being served. “I don’t see any sugar here, Nan. I already told you Mrs. Hanson takes sugar in her coffee. Also, you brought only one blueberry Danish.”

  “That’s because you ate all the Danishes except for that one,” Nan returned snippily.

  Simon’s color heightened. Clarice, clearly sensing the contentious atmosphere in the room, said quickly, “I know I ate at least three.”

  “You had one,” Nan maintained. “He ate most of them.”

  Simon’s face was growing red. “Nan, I did not—”

  “Yes, you did,” Nan interrupted firmly.

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even like them,” Diana lied—she could have eaten her weight in them. “Thank you, Nan.”

  As soon as Nan had cleared the doorway, Simon snarled, “I don’t think I can take one more day with that girl!”

  “You have to,” Diana said, trying to sound pleasantly calm. “Her mother is spending the last two weeks of her sick leave in Portland with her sister, and you can’t call her back to work. She’ll resume her duties in exactly sixteen days. You can stand just about anything for sixteen days, even Nan Murphy.”