by Alison Stone
“I overslept.” Stepping back into the room, away from his grasp, she touched her hair self-consciously. One side was pushed up into a big lump. She had on an oversize T-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms. He had to smile. He had never seen a more beautiful sight.
He tipped his head. “May I come in?”
Lily opened the door wider. “Of course.” She held out her hand. “Don’t mind how I’m dressed.”
James brushed past her into the small apartment. “I got worried when I couldn’t get ahold of you or Kara.”
Lily sat on the stool, obviously trying to shake the sleep. “I slept like the dead.” She blinked rapidly. “I can’t think straight.” She pushed to a standing position, glanced toward the couch then flopped back down on the stool like a marionette whose strings had suddenly been plucked.
“Kara’s gone.” A pillow and a folded blanket were stacked on the arm of the couch. “Hmm...” She scratched her head. Leaning across the center island, she dragged her purse toward her. She undid the flap and dug around inside until she produced her cell phone. She glanced at the button on the edge of the phone. “Sorry. I had it on vibrate, but I don’t think I would have heard it anyway.” She scrolled through the missed calls. “Kara tried to reach me, too. I didn’t hear her leave this morning.” She narrowed her gaze. “I think she’s feeling pretty bad about what she did.”
“She should. Maybe that’s why she didn’t answer my call.”
Lily jerked back her head. “Has something happened?”
James nodded, wishing he could spare her more bad news.
* * *
Lily’s blood ran cold. James had done a good job of schooling his expression, probably to spare her, but she was tired. Tired of needing protection. Tired of hiding away in this carriage house. And tired of having this Frank Smith guy ruin her life.
“Tell me.” Her intuition kicked in and sent tingles of panic slithering across her fingertips. “Something happened to Talia.” Time seemed to stretch in front of her. Please let Talia be okay.
James closed his eyes briefly. “I’m afraid so.”
Her spine went limp. She held up her hand to stop him from saying any more. She slid off the stool and moved to the couch. She pressed her hands together and tucked them between her knees. James sat on the coffee table in front of her. She met his gaze, mentally bracing herself. “Okay. Tell me.”
“Talia’s mother found her unresponsive in bed early this morning.”
The details of the room seemed magnified in Lily’s adrenaline-soaked state. She swore she could see every petal in detail in the bouquet on the center of the coffee table. “Is Talia...?” The word dead got stuck in her throat.
“She’s alive. She’s in ICU. That’s all I know. The chief of police called me. He couldn’t tell me any more.”
“Oh, no....” Lily’s gaze darted around the room, as if the answer might be in the well-appointed accessories in the apartment. “Where’s Mrs. York?”
“At home. She refuses to leave the house.”
Lily pushed off the couch and ran a hand through her mussed hair. “We need to see how she is.” She covered her mouth and tried to tamp down her emotions. “I can’t imagine how she’s doing. She’s probably all alone.”
“I’ll take you.”
She froze and ran a hand down her pajama bottoms. “Give me ten minutes.”
* * *
The Yorks’ house—in its state of disrepair—seemed even more ominous this morning, despite the sun poking through the heavy tree branches. Lily scanned the front of the house. The front door was closed and the blinds were drawn. Mrs. York was probably in a state of shock and in no mood for visitors. But Lily wouldn’t take no for an answer. No one should be alone at a time like this. As it was, the hospital told them that no one besides family would be able to visit Talia in the ICU. And due to privacy laws, they couldn’t get any updated information on Talia.
“Let’s go,” James said, obviously sensing her hesitation.
Lily had seen the desperation in Talia’s eyes. The poor girl had tried to take her own life. In her home. Her childhood bedroom. Had she hoped her mother would find her before it was too late? Had it been a cry for help that almost went unnoticed? Hadn’t the police checked her home last night after Talia had shown up at the carriage house?
Why didn’t you stop her? The voice in her head mocked. She came to you. You should have stopped her.
Lily drew in a deep breath.
James grabbed a plastic bag from the trunk and handed one to Lily. They had picked up a few fresh food items from the grocery store for Mrs. York. He slammed the back hatch and placed his hand on Lily’s back, leading her up the path. She stumbled over a piece of broken concrete and quickly steadied herself. The wood steps to the porch creaked under their weight. Lily slipped her free hand into her pants pocket and held her breath. James knocked on the door and slanted her a glance, offering her a weak smile. Muffled sounds from the television could be heard through the closed door.
They waited a few minutes. No answer.
“Let me try.” Lily pulled open the screen door and turned the handle on the inside door, its green paint chipping. It was unlocked. She pushed it open. The stale smell of accumulated junk assaulted her nose. Through the partially opened door, she called, “Mrs. York, it’s Lily McAllister and James O’Reilly. We wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
The thump-drag of Mrs. York’s walker sounded down the hallway. The older woman stopped halfway to the door and ran a shaky hand under her nose. “Did you hear my Talia’s in the hospital?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I’ve been praying for her.” Lily leaned on the doorframe. James rested his hand on her back. “That’s why we stopped by. We wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Mrs. York’s nose flared and she shook her head. “I did my best, but she was always a weak flower. Just like her father.”
James’s shoulder held the screen door open. “May we come in?”
Mrs. York gave a quick nod and turned around, thumping her way back to the family room with her walker.
James nudged Lily forward. “We brought some food. May I put the things in your kitchen?”
Mrs. York lifted a shaky hand in the general direction of the kitchen. “I told you I got plenty of food.” Her tone held an air of indignation.
Despite her protests, Lily put the refrigerated items away and James stacked the other things on the counter. When they returned to the living room, they found Mrs. York in her oversize chair with threadbare arms. Lily removed some magazines from a nearby chair, her fingers brushing across something sticky. Discreetly wiping her hand on her pant leg, she lowered herself onto the chair, the springs jabbing the backs of her legs.
Leaning forward, Lily rested her elbows on her thighs. “I know you don’t need food, but there are a few things in the refrigerator and on the counter.”
Mrs. York scrunched her nose as if Lily had told her she had smeared a ripe banana across her cabinets.
“Please, tell us, what can we do for you?” Lily knew drawing the older woman’s hands into her own wouldn’t be well received.
Mrs. York looked up, her hardened eyes suddenly turned soft, watery, catching Lily off guard. “Bring my Talia back.”
Lily pressed a fisted hand to her mouth, holding back the crushing emotion of a teenage girl who had lost her mother. James brushed his fingers across Lily’s shoulder. She looked up and fixed her gaze on him. The compassion in his eyes touched her soul. She was the first to look away.
Lily snapped her attention back to Mrs. York. “Would you like us to take you to the hospital?”
Mrs. York’s eyes flared wide. “Oh, no, I don’t want to go to the hospital.... My mother went in because she wasn’t feeling good and got an infection something fierce. She
died in the hospital.” She reached across, grabbed a tissue and blew loudly into it. “I’m afraid my Talia’s never coming home, either.”
“Oh, don’t say that. We have to have faith.” Guilt and compassion weighed heavily on Lily. Please, Lord, let Talia be okay. Had Lily done everything in her power to help Talia prior to this point? Had she been too wrapped up in her own life? Her own problems?
“James and I would be happy to go with you to the hospital.” Lily tried again. “It might make you feel better to see Talia.”
Mrs. York’s thin eyebrows twitched. All the years of being told one thing and experiencing another were etched into the lines around her flat mouth. “I already told you. I ain’t going to no hospital.”
The trill of James’s cell phone broke the tension-filled pause. He slipped it out of his pocket and frowned at the screen. “This is important.” He walked away, out of earshot.
Lily waited as long as her anxiety would allow, then met him in the front hall, careful not to trip on the stacks of newspapers cluttering the hallway. “What is it? Is it...?” She lowered her voice so Mrs. York wouldn’t hear. “Is it Talia?”
“No, it’s Mrs. Benson.” He cupped Lily’s elbow. “I have to go to the hospital. I can drop you off home first.”
Unease twisted Lily’s insides. “No, I can’t leave Mrs. York. Not yet.” She covered his hand with hers. “Go on. I can call Kara or someone for a ride in a little while. Go. Mrs. Benson needs you.” The elderly woman’s lonely smile and salt-and-pepper hair floated to mind.
James seemed to hesitate for a moment. “I suppose no one knows you’re here. That’s good. Do me a favor. Lock the doors and don’t go outside until your ride is here.” He pinned her with a gaze. “And if you can’t catch a ride, call me. Okay? We still don’t know where this Frank guy is.”
“Go,” she said. She got up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his cheek. His scent, a mixture of soap and aftershave, reached her nose. A pleasant substitute for the stale air swirling inside the Yorks’ cluttered house. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
* * *
On the drive to the hospital, James caught himself reciting a prayer his mother had taught him as a child. He stopped, and then continued, the words bringing him comfort. Mrs. Benson needed his prayers. So did Talia.
And Lily.
It unnerved him to leave Lily alone at the Yorks’ house. To provide a measure of peace, he called the police chief and asked him if he could have someone patrol the Yorks’ street. Keep an eye on things. His friend was more than willing to oblige.
James zipped into the parking spot, jumped out of the car and jogged toward the entrance. The doors whirred open on the small country hospital, belching out cool air. Big-city folks might complain about the quaint, rural facility, but it provided a service people in poor countries could never dream of. And James’s clinic bridged the gap for those who lacked insurance.
“Excuse me, sir. May I help you?”
James blinked, adjusting his eyes after coming in from the bright sunshine. A young woman sat at the main desk, watching him expectantly.
“Yes. I’m Dr. James O’Reilly. I need a pass to see Mrs. Benson. I believe she’s on the second floor, south wing.”
The woman pressed a few keys on the keyboard. She studied the computer screen for a moment before glancing at him, her one eye twitching. She seemed to shake herself, before peeling off a purple visitor’s pass from the roll and handing it to him. “Please stop by the nurses’ station on two south before going to Mrs. Benson’s room.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He didn’t want to read more into her expression than he feared.
“Thank you.” He slapped the sticker onto his shirt. He bypassed the elevator and entered the stairwell, the solid fire door slamming behind him. He took the stairs two at a time.
During the phone call, the nurse had said he needed to come in right away, but she hadn’t been able to say any more. When the same nurse saw him jogging down the hall, she slowly stood up. The somber expression on her face made his stomach seize. Slowing his pace, he stared at her, praying for a smile. A nod of reassurance. Anything. Something.
Nothing.
“I’m sorry, Dr. O’Reilly. Mrs. Benson died fifteen minutes ago. I had hoped she’d hang on long enough for you to get here. I know how much she meant to you.”
James plastered on a polite smile and pointed toward the room where Mrs. Benson had chatted with him last night. When she had told him of her wishes. Her hopes for her granddaughter’s future. “Is she still...?”
“Yes.”
James walked toward the hospital room. Time slowed to a crawl. His shoes creaked against the linoleum floor as he entered the room. A privacy curtain shielded the bed. Gulping around a knot of emotion, he slid the curtain back just enough to slip through. He had seen much death in his life, but he had never witnessed one so peaceful. Something shifted in his heart. The nurse had placed Mrs. Benson’s hands one on top of the other. If he hadn’t run into the nurse, he might have suspected Mrs. Benson had dozed off into a restful sleep.
He covered her cool hand with his and lowered himself into the vinyl chair. He wondered if Mrs. Benson had died while he was reciting the prayer on the drive over. The prayer his mother had taught him. A measure of peace settled in his heart. Dear Lord, let her rest in peace.
The curtain hooks rattled in their tracks. The nurse stood in the opening, compassion radiating from every gesture. “Do you need more time, Dr. O’Reilly? The funeral home is here to take care of Mrs. Benson.”
James slowly stood. “Tell them I’ll be right out.” The nurse turned to walk away and he called to her. “Do you know where her granddaughter is?”
“I was just about to call social services. She’ll need to be picked up from the neighbor’s.” The nurse’s lower lip trembled. “It’s so sad. First that child lost her mother—now her grandmother.”
James tugged on his ear. “Do you have the number of the contact at social services? I’ll call.” Mrs. Benson had been very specific in her final wishes. Guilt niggled at him. He wished he had been more up front with his elderly patient.
The nurse’s eyes opened a fraction wider. “Oh, okay. If you’re sure, Dr. O’Reilly?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He followed the nurse to her desk, where she wrote down the information.
He pointed to the phone on her cluttered desk. “May I use this?” The nurse nodded. He picked up the receiver and dialed. He shifted the phone to his other hand and ran his palm down his pant leg.
* * *
Lily heated up soup and fixed a salad for Mrs. York from the items they had purchased at the grocery store. She found a TV tray and set it in the family room in front of Mrs. York’s chair. Lily had to do a lot of rearranging to clear a spot for the tray. She had no idea how someone could live like this. Lily would have to see about getting Mrs. York assistance to clean her home, especially if Talia didn’t... No, she couldn’t think that way. Once Talia was better, she’d work with both of them to get this house in order. She’d get Mrs. York the help to keep it clean.
Mrs. York seemed to harrumph when Lily placed the food in front of her, but she ate it with no complaint. When Mrs. York was done, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her belly. “I don’t know why you’re fussing over me.”
“I want to make sure you’re okay.” Lily knew what it was like to be totally alone after losing someone close. She didn’t know what she would have done if the O’Reillys—and Edna—hadn’t been so generous with her after her mother died. Her sister, Bethany, had been traveling the country with a boyfriend and couldn’t be bothered with her little sister.
Not a day went by that Lily didn’t thank God for her blessings. Where would she be today if the O’Reillys hadn’t taken her in and paid for her education?
“Earth to Lily.” Mrs. York’s gruff voice broke through her trance.
“Yes? Can I get you anything else?” Lily stood in front of the TV tray, preparing to take it away.
Mrs. York shooed her with the TV remote. Lily stepped aside, not realizing she had been blocking the screen. The older woman pointed the remote at the television, turning the volume up on a late-afternoon talk show. Without looking at Lily, she said, “Don’t let me keep you.”
Knowing the woman was hurting, scared, lonely, Lily ignored her biting comments. Lily decided she couldn’t leave until she at least cleaned up the dirty dishes, not that it would make a dent in the mess in this small ranch. But she had to do something. Feel as if she was doing something. And it would be wrong to leave Mrs. York alone.
She carried the dishes into the kitchen and set them on the counter. An unexpected feeling of hope bubbled up. Maybe James would call from the hospital with good news. Bracing her arms on the kitchen sink, she said another prayer for Mrs. Benson, Talia...and for Mrs. York. May Talia recover and may both mother and daughter find peace.
Lily busied herself washing dishes and tidying the countertops. She found a large garbage bag under the sink and tossed most everything out. She might have been a little forward, but something had to be done. She tied off the bag and set it by the back door.
She pulled back the lacy curtain covering the window on the door and remembered her promise to James not to go outside unless she had a ride waiting. The clutter in the yard provided ample opportunity for someone to hide. To watch the house. To stalk her. A chill surged down her spine, shattering her fleeting hope.
A part of her was surprised—disappointed, almost—James hadn’t checked in with her. He had left hours ago. She closed her eyes, and Mrs. Benson’s beautiful granddaughter came to mind. The little girl was a handful, but what a blessing the grandmother had come into Chloe’s life when her mother was unable to care for her.
Lily pressed her steepled fingers to her lips, remembering Chloe’s sweet smile. Lily was grateful for her faith. It kept her grounded during times like these. Without her faith, she would have fallen into a dark hole with no hope.