“I know,” he said.
And something about the way he said those words, “I know,” made her shiver again. And she began to run, the rest of the way through the park, to the front steps of Melbourne General Hospital. She joined the flood of health care workers—doctors, nurses, aides, therapists—streaming through the double doors. There weren’t many patients’ parents in this flood—it was much too early for visiting hours.
The security guard noticed Lily, without an ID badge, and he signaled her to stop. She had wasted too much time already, so she just waved at him and jumped into the next elevator. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Liam—stopping to be grilled by the guard.
Oddly, as the doors closed, Lily felt a pang.
She was crushed in with twenty other people, and Liam wasn’t one of them. He had walked her all the way up the steep hill, shown her the heron, accepted her slightly insulting comment about his cataloguing of natural phenomena. The funny thing was, she felt that he was the one making an inside joke. She didn’t get it.
And she didn’t get why she felt so sorry that she’d gotten on the elevator without him. He had come all this way with her. He was trying so hard to keep that stupid promise she’d never wanted him to make in the first place. Maybe this would give him the hint: he was off the hook. As far as she was concerned, she’d never wanted him on it.
So why did she feel so bad about the fact that he was no longer at her side? She shook the feeling and stepped off on Rose’s floor, the Pediatric ICU.
Chapter 14
Excuse me,” the security guard said. “But may I see your ID?”
“ID?” Liam asked, watching the elevator doors close behind Lily.
“Your work badge, for here at the hospital.”
“Oh,” Liam said. “I don’t work here.”
“Well, sir, visiting hours don’t begin until eleven. It’s only eight forty-five now. Doctors have to make their rounds.”
“I’m here to see someone in the Pediatric ICU,” Liam said. “I think the visiting hours are more flexible up there.”
“Yes, they are, sir. Family member?”
“Well, no. Close family friend.”
“Sir, only family members are allowed in that unit. We have very strict rules about that. Very strict.”
Liam nodded. He knew better than to argue with a security guard—he did. But he had to get up there, had to be with Lily and Rose. He nodded toward the elevator. “I’m with that woman, who just took that last car.”
“The small dark-haired woman who ignored me? Shrugged me off?” the guard asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Uh, maybe.”
“That one. That one ignores me every morning. It’s like I’m not even here. That’s right, I’ve seen you with her before. I took notice of you, on account of—” He stopped himself.
“My arm,” Liam said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, I caught you this morning. One of you, anyway.”
Yeah, the one of us that’s not a natural phenomenon, Liam thought, picturing Lily weaving through the crowded lobby like a waterspout. High velocity, with the speed of a tornado and even more force. Touching down just long enough to gain more strength from the water’s surface, then whirling on her way to Rose.
“You’re welcome to wait in the lobby for your friend,” the guard said sternly. “But I can’t allow you up on the unit without a special pass.”
“How would I get one?”
“From a doctor. As well as permission from a parent of the patient. It’s best you just wait here.”
“Right,” Liam said. “Thanks.”
But instead, he walked back outside. He crossed the street, went over to the reflecting pool, looked up at the monument. He touched it with his good hand, thought of how strange it was that a big piece of stone would outlast so many of the people he loved: his parents, Connor. Now he gazed down the length of the pool, to the pond at the far end. He peered into the shadows, looking for the heron.
If she was there, she was too well hidden for him to see.
Lily hadn’t wanted to pause long enough to look. Forces of nature were like that. They were too busy fulfilling their purpose. Hurricanes, waterspouts, heat waves, Lily Malone. Nothing was going to keep her from Rose for two seconds—not even the poetry of a blue heron, the same color as Lily’s own eyes, in this city park.
Liam walked slowly along the west side of the long reflecting pool. He stayed in the shade—not because the sun was so hot, but because he wanted to stay hidden. He, his brother, and Jude had prided themselves on being able to sneak up on wildlife. They could swim silently into a pod of fin whales and not even disturb them. Connor had once swum up to a beluga and touched her dorsal ridge. And they had tracked a pair of snowy owls one winter solstice, crawling to within fifteen feet of them.
He had his cell phone on vibrate, and checked it to be sure: he hoped Lily would at least call him if there was some change.
The idea of Lily as a force of nature was not new to him. In fact, it had inspired their entire unbalanced, undefined, and completely confusing relationship. He thought back nine years, to the first time he’d ever seen her.
She had driven into town in a rusty old Volvo, with holes in the floor and the hood literally held down by baling wire. She had cut her hair very short, she wore glasses, then, that she hadn’t really needed. Since his family basically ran Cape Hawk, her first encounter had been with Camille, his aunt, the family grande dame and owner of Neill Real Estate. Lily had been looking for a place to live. It had seemed odd enough to Camille—a pretty, young, and, oh yes, extremely pregnant woman, obviously American, looking for a house in Cape Hawk—to discuss at the family Friday night dinner. Although she was clearly trying to hide her pregnancy with bulky clothes, it was obvious to everyone.
“Cheap,” Camille reported. “She actually said that was her main requirement.”
“Where’s her husband?” Jude, Camille’s son, had asked.
“He’s a fisherman,” Camille said. “Gone for weeks at a time.”
“What boat?”
“That’s precisely what I asked. She was vague, to say the least. Do you think he’s a drug smuggler?”
“Probably runs the maritime heroin trade,” Liam said. He hadn’t wanted to attend the dinner—he never did—but tonight his aunt had insisted. Sitting next to Anne, he felt her jab his side with her elbow. But she connected with his hard prothesis, so the whole table heard the crack.
“Don’t be fresh, Liam,” Camille said, giving her daughter-in-law an evil look. “As a matter of fact, this is why I wanted you to be here tonight.”
“Because of my expertise with drug smugglers?”
“No. Because she is looking for something cheap, and I thought of that cabin on the back end of your property.”
Liam’s stomach churned. The building had started out as a shack—it had been his and Connor’s fort, when they were kids. Two rooms that, over the years, his parents had turned into a fairly decent guest cottage.
“I thought you might rent it to her. But first, I thought you should meet her. If you get a bad feeling, or sense that there is indeed something suspicious about her and her husband—well then, we’ll find something else. Do you know what I think?”
“No,” Anne said. “Please, tell us, Camille.”
“I think there is no husband. I think she’s an unwed mother!”
“How vile,” Anne said.
Now it was Liam’s turn to jab her. But Camille took her seriously and nodded gravely. “Precisely. I think she may have moved to Canada to take advantage of our health system. The States’ is so abysmal. I don’t like the idea of supporting anything like fraud… .”
“But it’s better than a drug dealer husband,” Liam said.
“So true, my dear. Well then—I leave it to you. She is staying right here at the inn. Room 220. Will you take her to see the property?”
“Don’t forget your revolver,”
Jude said. “Just in case.”
“Don’t you be fresh,” his mother said, then hailed the waitress to clear their dessert plates.
As Liam prepared to go to room 220, Anne stopped him.
“It was nice to have you at dinner tonight. Jude was just saying, you’ve been such a stranger.”
“It’s hard to resist a Friday night with Camille,” Liam grinned.
“I know. I find it’s the centerpiece of my week,” Anne said. “I think her whole problem comes from the fact that when she married Frederic, her name became Camille Neill. That’s quite a handle. It sounds a little like something out of a comedy skit.”
They chuckled, glancing around to make sure Camille’s spies—her favorite waitstaff and chambermaids—weren’t listening.
“Seriously,” Anne said. “Where have you been? Have you fallen madly in love with that girl shark researcher who came up last summer?”
Liam shook his head. “No. She was just a colleague from Halifax.”
“She was pretty. And she liked you, Liam. Jude and I both noticed.”
“Hmm,” Liam said.
“Well, at least you’re not growling at me, the way you usually do when I try to ask about your love life. I wish you had more of one. You’re my favorite in-law.”
“Same to you,” he said. “Now, I’d better go do my duty.”
“Oh, right. Vetting the mysterious unwed drug dealer.”
Liam had gone down the hall, not knowing what to expect, just wanting to get the whole thing over with. The hotel was big, rambling, with two long wings. Room 220 was all the way at the end of one, on the second floor. It was on the side of the hotel that faced the employees’ parking lot, instead of looking out at Cape Hawk bay.
He knocked—no answer. So he tried again. He checked his watch—it was eight-thirty. Could she already be asleep? There wasn’t much to do after dinner in Cape Hawk. Perhaps she had taken a walk. He leaned closer to the door. Small sounds were coming from inside.
Holding his breath, he listened. At first he thought it was the TV. A high thin voice came through the door. It sounded unnatural for a human—more like the keening of a seabird. Or the singing of a whale, picked up on hydrophones. But the sound did something to Liam’s heart that made him realize that the source was very human after all, that it was the woman crying.
Liam had heard crying like that only once before: his mother, the day Connor died. He raised his hand to knock again, but stopped himself. The stranger’s grief was too terrible and private to disturb. So he backed away, deciding to return the next morning.
He didn’t have to.
Camille left him a message at his office: “Never mind about the rental. She has found lodging elsewhere.”
Liam felt relieved. Whatever had been going on inside that room was too much for him. He had spent the night wondering what was wrong—and he warned himself that he couldn’t get involved. Not that that would be so hard; not getting involved was what Liam did best. Just ask the Halifax shark researcher Anne had mentioned. Julie Grant. She still sent him letters—or did, until the last one, where she’d said, “Call me when you realize that people are better to spend time with than sharks. I thought we had a chance, but now I know I’m wrong. Goodbye.”
Liam had learned that it was easier on the heart to stay distant from people—even, or especially, the ones he cared most about. After Connor’s death, his mother had disappeared. Not in body, but in spirit. She had gotten quieter, lonelier, more distant, until it was just her and the bottle. No matter how hard Liam had tried to bring her back to life, remind her she still had a son, she wouldn’t listen. When he had gone for surgeries on his arm, his father had dropped him off. His mother couldn’t even bear to visit the hospital where Connor had been pronounced dead.
Now, walking the length of the reflecting pool, Liam looked over his shoulder at that same hospital. Lily and Rose were in there now. Lily’s way of being a mother was so different, outwardly at least, from his mother’s. Inwardly, he suspected they were exactly the same. Two women who loved their ailing children so much, it controlled every aspect of their lives.
The heron was right there—where he had seen her with Lily. Walking quietly in the shadows, Liam took a few steps closer. The heron didn’t move. She held her elegant pose, blue neck craned, yellow bill pointed downward. The pond seemed as still as glass, but the heron saw movement and in one swift shot lunged, stabbed, came up with a silver fish.
Liam watched her swallow; when she was finished, she resumed her pose. He felt the surge and amazement of watching nature at work—much the way he felt watching Lily the natural phenomenon.
He figured the security guard had to take a break at some point, and in any case, regular visiting hours would soon commence.
So he turned and headed back toward the hospital, to keep the promise Lily had never even wanted him to make, wished he wouldn’t keep, just because he really didn’t feel he had a choice.
Rose had defied plenty of odds in her day, and today was no exception. By the time her mother arrived, she had already been moved onto a pediatric surgical floor. She was breathing well, and she’d lost five pounds of fluid, and her heart and lungs and all her organs were going back to normal size. So why was it so hard for her to even smile? Even a little smile seemed almost impossible.
“What’s wrong, honey?” her mother asked, standing beside her bed.
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure? You look upset.”
Rose tried to make her lips turn up. It wasn’t a real smile—it didn’t come from inside. But she didn’t want her mother to be worried. The doctors and therapists were always telling her that her feelings were fine, and that she should honor them, even when the feelings were unwanted: unhappy, sad, angry, hurt, things like that. But the one thing Rose couldn’t bear was seeing her mother with those worry lines in her forehead—so she faked a smile.
“Mom,” she said. “Did you see Dr. Colvin?”
“Yes. He told me you’re making great improvements. And I know he talked to Dr. Garibaldi in Boston, to discuss how soon you can go there.”
“I don’t want to go to Boston, Mom.”
“But, honey—”
Rose clenched her fists. The tips of her fingers were numb; they were always numb because her heart didn’t pump enough blood fast enough. She had funny-looking little fingertips, almost like tiny paddles. She tried to keep the pretend smile on her face, but inside, she was melting.
“It’s summer,” she said. “Jessica’s first summer in Cape Hawk. I’ve already been to the hospital now. I knew I had to go, and I had it planned, but now this is it. This is my hospital time. I want to have fun, Mom. Fun with Jessica.”
“I know, sweetheart. And you will. That’s what the surgery is for—to replace the patch, so you’ll be able to have all the fun in the world.”
Rose just stared. She wanted to believe her mother. She had been in so many hospital beds over the years. She remembered a time when she was five, and she’d had a valve replacement, and developed endocarditis—a bacterial infection that attacks people with heart problems. She spent months in the hospital, taking in antibiotics through her veins, which practically ruined her kidneys and liver and made her hair dry out. She had looked like a straw doll.
“Jessica will make a different best friend,” she said.
“No, she won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because who could be a better best friend than you?”
“Someone who isn’t in the hospital.”
“Honey, why are you so down?”
Rose took some deep breaths, but it was getting harder to keep the smile on her face. How could she not be down? Her birthday party had been so wonderful, magical—and then Rose’s heart had given out. The drugs were stabilizing her now, but she felt groggy all the time. And instead of getting to spend the summer in Cape Hawk, now she was going to have to go to another hospital—the big one in Boston. Jessica wou
ld probably just forget about her.
“That was a pretty stupid question, right?” her mother asked.
“No,” Rose said. “It wasn’t stupid. I’m sorry.”
“Rose, never be sorry. You’ve been through so much, and we just keep asking you to go through more and more. No wonder you’re—”
Her mother’s voice was shaking, and she sounded so down herself that Rose thought she was going to start to cry. But just then, looking over her mother’s shoulder, she saw something framed in the doorway that brought a true smile to her face—the first one she’d had all day.
Dr. Neill stood in the doorway, holding a huge bunch of balloons. Every bright color, just like a rainbow.
“Dr. Neill!” she said.
“Hi, Rose,” he said, walking straight over to her, bending down to stroke her forehead. “How’s my girl?”
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, almost unable to believe her eyes. Why hadn’t her mother mentioned it?
“Of course I’m here. You’re a wonder, Rose. I thought you were still in the ICU, but when I asked at the desk, they told me you were here.”
“You’ve been at the hospital since I got here?” Rose asked.
He nodded. Rose gave her mother a surprised look, and her mother just stood there trying to appear innocent.
“What about Nanny, and all the other whales and sharks? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch over them?”
“Nanny told me this was more important.”
“Whales don’t talk!”
“Well, Nanny and I speak a certain language,” he said. “It’s hard to explain, to people who don’t speak it… .”
Rose reached out. She touched his prothesis with one of her clubbed fingers. She felt a spark inside.
“I think I speak it too.”
“So do I,” he said.
“I’m feeling left out,” her mother said. “Herons, whales. Could someone speak human to me?” Rose heard her, but this moment was completely between her and Dr. Neill. She knew that he understood being in the hospital, fearing that she might never get better, that she’d always be different. She held up her index finger. He stared at it, the way it broadened at the tip. She saw him look at the IV needle in the back of her hand. She even saw him look at the catheter that ran from her to the bag beside the bed, and she didn’t feel embarrassed. She wanted him to pick her up, as if he were her father.
Luanne Rice Page 14