Til Death Do Us Part

by Beverly Barton

  “Is she going to be all right?” Cleo glanced at her aunt. Beatrice looked so small and pale lying there, her petite body connected to an endless assortment of wires and tubes. Lifesaving devices. Dear Lord, please let them be just that.

  “I can’t guarantee her recovery,” the doctor said. “But Beatrice is a fighter, and with God’s help she should pull through.”

  Cleo eased around to the side of her aunt’s bed. Hesitantly, she touched Beatrice’s slender arm, then stroked her hand tenderly.

  “I’m here, Aunt Beatrice. Right here at your side. You’re going to be all right. Do you hear me? You’re going to be just fine.” Tears filled Cleo’s eyes. When they spilled over onto her cheeks, she swatted at them with her fingertips.

  Dr. Iverson laid his hand on Cleo’s shoulder. “Stay only a few minutes, then when you go out one other family member may come in for a brief visit.”

  Nodding agreement, she slipped her hand beneath her aunt’s and squeezed softly. She swallowed the sobs trapped in her throat. “I love you, Aunt Beatrice. You know that, don’t you? You’ve been more of a mother to me than my own mother ever was. You hang in there, do you hear me? You fight hard to get better. I can’t do without you.”

  Cleo knew she’d stayed longer than she should have when the nurse tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to face Ms. Mullins.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Roarke, but if another family member wants to see Miss McNamara, you’ll have to let him or her come in now,” the nurse told her.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

  When Cleo exited the ICU, she found Roarke with a coffee cup in his hand, waiting just outside the door. He encircled her shoulders and pulled her against him.

  “Dr. Iverson thinks she has a chance of surviving.” Cleo’s knees suddenly felt wobbly, her head light.

  Tightening his hold on her, Roarke guided her to a seat, then knelt in front of her and handed her the cup of coffee. “Here. Cream. No sugar. Drink it, honey.”

  Clasping the foam cup in her hands, Cleo lifted it to her lips and took a sip of the warm, creamy liquid. After slowly downing half the cup, she looked across the room at her uncle, who sat on the edge of his seat, his head bowed. He held his hands between his legs in a prayerful gesture.

  “Uncle Perry, you can go in and see Aunt Beatrice for a few minutes,” Cleo said.

  Perry shot to his feet, fatigue and anxiety falling miraculously from his shoulders. He ran across the room, totally oblivious to everyone and everything around him.

  Before he reached the waiting room doorway, Oralie cried out, “Why is Perry being allowed to see Beatrice? Why not me?”

  Perry walked out of the waiting room and straight into the ICU, as if Oralie had never spoken.

  “It’s all right, Mother. We’ll all get a chance to see Aunt Beatrice.” Daphne petted her mother’s arm.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Cleo said. “No one else is going to see Aunt Beatrice tonight.”

  “On whose orders?” Trey asked.

  “Dr. Iverson said only one visitor after me,” Cleo told her cousin.

  “Then why Perry?” Oralie asked sharply, bitterness in her voice.

  “Because he truly cares about Aunt Beatrice, which is more than I can say for any of you.” Cleo ignored Oralie’s outraged gasp and Trey’s angry curse.

  Cleo calmly finished her coffee, then set the cup down on a side table to her right. She turned to Roarke. “If Uncle Perry is the one who poisoned the tea, he’ll break under the strain of knowing he almost killed Aunt Beatrice.”

  “Exactly what is there between Perry and Beatrice? I’ve noticed some sort of invisible bond between them.”

  “That’s a perfect way to describe it,” Cleo said. “An invisible bond.”

  Oralie glared at Cleo. “What are you two talking about over there? I heard you mention Perry’s name.”

  “Don’t upset yourself, Mother,” Daphne said.

  “It’s ridiculous for you to assume that my husband cares more about Beatrice than I do,” Oralie said. “She’s my own dear first cousin, isn’t she? And she’s only related to Perry by marriage.”

  Cleo looked directly at Oralie. “You know why I told Uncle Perry he could go in to see Aunt Beatrice.”

  “What does she mean by that remark, Mother?” Trey stirred from his seat beside Marla, who had fallen asleep and was awakened by her mother-in-law’s outburst.

  “I want you to march right in there and bring your father out!” Oralie said. “He has no business in there with Beatrice.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Trey looked quizzically from his mother to Cleo.

  Before either could reply, Perry Sutton returned from the ICU, his face damp with tears. On some instinctive level, Cleo wanted to go to her uncle and put her arms around him. But she didn’t.

  “There you are,” Oralie said. “I’m ready to leave, Perry. This has all been too much for me. I’m completely exhausted. You know what a nervous disposition I have.”

  Perry glanced at his wife, his face void of emotion. “Yes, my dear, I know.”

  “There’s nothing we can do for Beatrice by staying,” Oralie told him.

  “You’re quite right. There’s nothing any of you can do for Beatrice by staying here.” Perry looked at his son. “Trey, you and Marla take your mother home. Daphne, you go with them and see to your mother’s comfort.”

  “Aren’t you coming?” Daphne asked.

  “You are not staying here!” Oralie rose to her feet. Glaring at her husband, she walked slowly toward him.

  When Oralie stood directly in front of Perry, her cheeks bright with anger and her eyes wild with rage, he smiled. And that odd little smile on her uncle’s face sent cold chills up Cleo’s spine.

  “Yes, my dear, I am staying.” Perry’s voice was deadly calm.

  Oralie whirled around so quickly she almost lost her balance. Daphne grabbed her mother’s arm. “Take me home immediately,” she demanded. “I can’t bear another minute of this.”

  Daphne guided Oralie out into the hallway. Trey and Marla followed. Trey hesitated, then turned around and said, “Please call us if Aunt Beatrice’s condition worsens.”

  “Yes, I’ll call,” Cleo said, and breathed a sigh of relief when her aunt and cousins boarded the nearby elevator.

  Perry slumped into a chair by the door, crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. Cleo watched him for several minutes, wondering if she should go over and talk to him, try to comfort him. She didn’t.

  “Do you want to tell me what that was all about?” Roarke asked.

  “I asked Pearl a similar question when I was about thirteen,” Cleo said.

  “And what did Pearl tell you?”

  “Years ago, when Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Perry were young, they fell in love and planned to marry.”

  “What happened?”

  “Aunt Beatrice grew up in an age when nice girls didn’t have sex before marriage, so she wanted to wait until after their wedding.”

  “And?”

  “Aunt Oralie was jealous of Aunt Beatrice. She wanted Perry for herself and didn’t have any qualms about seducing him in a weak moment.” Cleo glanced across the room at Perry Sutton and her heart ached for him. “Aunt Beatrice would have forgiven him and married him anyway, except… Oralie was pregnant. With twins.”

  “Trey and Daphne.”

  “Of course Uncle Perry married Aunt Oralie and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  Roarke groaned. “God, what messes we make of our lives. We human beings find a way to screw up everything and destroy ourselves in the process.”

  Cleo touched Roarke’s face, stroking his stubbleroughened cheek. “I’m glad that you’re here with me. That I’m not having to go through this alone.”

  He took her in his arms. She went willingly. An overwhelming sense of belonging came over her. This felt so right. Being with Simon. Her husband.

  ROARKE NUDGED CLEO. She purred in his arms like a sleepy
kitten. He lifted her off his lap, where she’d slept most of the night, set her beside him on the vinyl sofa and shook her gently.

  “Wake up, Cleo Belle. It’s visiting hours. You can go in and see Aunt Beatrice in a few minutes.”

  Cleo opened her eyes slowly. The first thing she saw was Roarke’s face. That wonderful, strong, handsome face. Smiling, she sat up straight and stretched.

  “The last thing I remember is your lifting me into your lap and telling me to take a nap.”

  “That was around midnight last night,” Roarke said. “It’s nearly six o’clock.”

  “Did you get any rest?” Unable to resist touching him, she laid her hand on his chest. “You must have been uncomfortable with me lying on you all night.”

  “I got plenty of rest,” he told her. “You’re as light as a feather.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Besides, that’s not the first time you’ve slept on top of me most of the night.”

  She made a funny little sound deep in her throat, a mixture of moan and laughter. “I probably look a fright.” She stood, then reached down and picked up her shoulder bag. “I need to go to the bathroom.” She glanced around the waiting area. “Where’s Uncle Perry?”

  “He’s already gone in to see Beatrice.”

  “Oh. Okay. Could you rustle us up some coffee while I go freshen up?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Roarke walked down the hall to a small alcove where a row of vending machines stood. He removed a couple of dollars from his wallet and inserted one into the coffee machine, then punched a button. He repeated the process, then returned to the waiting room.

  He set Cleo’s coffee on the side table, then walked over to the windows and looked out at the parking lot. Lifting the cup to his lips, he sipped the hot, black brew.

  Since Beatrice had lived through the night, her chances of recovery had improved. He was grateful that Cleo’s aunt hadn’t died. Cleo loved Beatrice deeply and was devoted to her. How different would his own life have been if his aunt Margaret had shown him the affection Cleo had received from Beatrice? His father’s sister had been a cold, harsh woman who’d never once said a kind word to him. Not even when he’d first come to live with Margaret and Eddie Bullock, and had been a scared, lonely boy of nine whose father had just died and left him an orphan.

  Roarke’s life had been without love, without any human warmth and kindness, until he’d met Hope. She was beautiful, bright, bubbly, and he’d fallen for her so hard he hadn’t had a chance of escaping. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to escape. He’d thought she was everything he’d ever dreamed of, everything he’d ever wanted. He’d been wrong.

  She’d wanted him to leave the army. He’d tried to explain what being a member of the Special Forces meant to him. She didn’t understand. She didn’t even try.

  A year into their marriage, he’d known what a mistake he’d made. But Hope clung to him, begging him not to leave her, not to stop loving her. She was so needy, so desperately needy, and no matter how much he gave, it was never enough.

  “Do I look better?” Cleo asked as she emerged from the bathroom. “I cleaned up a bit. Washed my face and combed my hair.” She spied the coffee cup on the table. “Oh, good. Coffee.”

  “You look fine, honey. A little tired, maybe.”

  A tall, bony, middle-aged nurse appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Roarke, your aunt is awake and asking for you and your husband.”

  “She’s awake.” Cleo laughed nervously. “Oh, she’ll fuss at me for staying here all night.” She smiled at the nurse. “Is my uncle still in with her?”

  “Yes. He’s waiting until y’all come in before leaving. I must say, your uncle is quite devoted to her, isn’t he? Just watching the way he looks at her, you can see how much he loves her.”

  “Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” Cleo said.

  They followed the nurse into ICU. Perry sat beside Beatrice’s bed, holding her hand. Beatrice glanced up and smiled when she saw Cleo.

  “You gave us quite a scare last night.” Cleo leaned over and hugged her aunt. Gazing into Beatrice’s weak eyes, Cleo clenched her teeth to keep from crying.

  Perry released Beatrice’s hand, then bent over and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right outside.”

  “No, wait, Perry,” Beatrice said. “I want all of you to go on home. I’m out of danger now, aren’t I, Ms. Danton?” She glanced at the skinny nurse. “I’m going to be just fine.”

  “You’ve certainly come through the night with flying colors,” Nurse Danton said. “We’re hoping you’ll be fully recovered and able to go home in a few days. If you continue to improve, Dr. Iverson will put you in a private room sometime late tomorrow.”

  “See,” Beatrice told them. “Go home. Take baths. Eat something. Tend to business. You can come back and see me this afternoon.”

  “I’ll be back.” Perry waved at Beatrice, then turned and left the ICU.

  “I didn’t want to say anything while Perry was here.” Beatrice lifted her hand, reaching for Roarke. “Come here.”

  Roarke took her hand in his. “I’m right here, Aunt Beatrice.”

  Smiling, she sighed deeply. “I’m so glad that Cleo has you at her side. She’s in real danger. If we had any doubts about how far this person will go, I think this incident should erase those doubts.”

  “Do you know what happened?” Cleo asked.

  “I heard Rob Iverson and the nurses talking,” Beatrice said. “Of course they didn’t know I could hear them. I was poisoned, wasn’t I? Or rather, the tea I prepared for Cleo had been poisoned.”

  “Yes, dear.” Cleo stroked her aunt’s forehead, brushing back a strand of silver-streaked red hair.

  Beatrice clutched Roarke’s hand. “You must find this person and stop him before he kills Cleo!”

  “Don’t upset yourself, Aunt Beatrice.” Roarke turned her hand over and gave it several reassuring pats. “I’ll take care of Cleo.”

  “Whoever did this must hate Cleo a great deal.” Beatrice’s eyes filled with tears. “Find the person who hates Cleo, before it’s too late. It’s not Perry, but it could easily be Oralie. Or Daphne. Or even Trey.”

  “I’m sorry,” Nurse Danton said. “I’m afraid y’all are going to have to leave and let Miss McNamara get her rest. If you’d like to speak to Dr. Iverson, I’ll have him call you at home, Mrs. Roarke, after he’s seen your aunt later this morning.”

  “Yes, have him call her later,” Beatrice said. “Now, Simon, take her home and see that she eats and gets some rest before you let her come back to this hospital.”

  Neither Simon nor Cleo said a word on the elevator ride down to the ground level of the hospital. When the doors opened, Cleo gasped. Sheriff Phil Bacon stood there, waiting for an elevator.

  “I was on my way up to talk to y’all,” he said.

  “Why don’t we go into the coffee bar over there.” Roarke pointed to his left.

  The three of them sat down at a small table in the corner. Cleo reached under the table and clutched Roarke’s hand.

  “Cleo, your private stock of tea was laced with a poisonous substance that your people at McNamara labs tell us was odorless and tasteless, and very deadly.”

  She gripped Roarke’s hand even more tightly. “How would someone get such a poison?”

  “Well, that type of poison, according to your Dr. Hibbett, used to be in rodenticides and stuff like that, but the government banned it years ago.”

  “Then how—” Cleo asked.

  “There’s still some of it around,” Phil Bacon said.

  “Do you have any idea where the amount put in Cleo’s tea came from?” Roarke squeezed Cleo’s hand.

  “As a matter of fact, we do. And that’s why I needed to talk to you.”

  “You found the source of the poison?” Cleo sucked in her breath. “So soon?”

  “We did a search of your house and the grounds,” the sheriff told her. “I’ve had my men out there all night.”
<
br />   “You found the poison at my house?”

  “No, ma’am, we found it in your uncle’s greenhouse.”

  “What?” Cleo bit down on her bottom lip.

  “There was about a fourth of a bag of the stuff in the bottom of the trash. It was an old bag. Someone had wrapped it in a separate plastic bag and covered it with all sorts of debris.”

  “Uncle Perry’s greenhouse.” Cleo spoke slowly, trying to absorb the meaning of what she’d been told and praying, for Aunt Beatrice’s sake, that the most likely suspect wouldn’t turn out to be guilty.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MAY HAD EXPLODED into fragrant bloom. Springtime flowers and shrubs littered the countryside. Nourished by several days of scattered thundershowers, the lawns were a vibrant green. Cleo hugged herself when she stepped out onto the screened back porch. “‘God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world,’” she quoted Browning. A shiver of apprehension quivered along her nerve endings. Despite the fact that Aunt Beatrice was home from the hospital and recuperating nicely, and despite the fact that for the past week absolutely nothing had gone wrong, either at home or at the plant, all was most definitely not right with the world.

  Despite the appearance of normalcy, her life was anything but normal. My God, her family’s company had been sabotaged, her aunt had nearly died from poisoning and she was paying her hired husband a million dollars to get her pregnant.

  And they still didn’t know who was trying to kill her!

  Regardless of the peace and tranquillity at the house and the smoothly running operations at the plant, Cleo feared that this was all simply the calm before the storm. Even with Morgan Kane and his security force monitoring McNamara Industries seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day, Cleo kept waiting for another accident or another computer problem. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  And Cleo couldn’t remember a time when the Suttons had been so eager to maintain family harmony. Trey had kept his temper under control and Daphne had refrained from her usual catty remarks. And even Aunt Oralie hadn’t acted like a jealous harpy whenever Uncle Perry showed any kindness toward Aunt Beatrice. It seemed highly unnatural to Cleo, and she’d said so to Pearl, who had agreed with her wholeheartedly.