The Grey Door

by Danna Wilberg

“Who opened the door?”

  “Adelle.”

  “What happened after Adelle opened the door?”

  “The fat one pushed Adelle on the floor. Daddy yelled at me. No boys in the house.”

  “Had your dad been drinking, Arlene?”

  “Daddy likes Manhattans. Mom makes them just right.”

  “I’ll bet. Go on.”

  “Daddy ate the whole jar of cherries. Me and Adelle only got a couple out of the whole jar! What do you think of that? Stingy, stingy, stingy.”

  I think your dad was too drunk to keep his wife safe, too drunk to help his little girls. “What was your daddy like that day, can you remember?”

  “Mommy said Daddy worked too hard. He needed to relax. She fixed his medicine.”

  Grace had studied the police report. She pictured Arlene’s mother fighting to save her children while Daddy struggled to stay on his feet. Suddenly Grace wanted to flee the room. Why was she judging a dead man? What made her think he was to blame? In the back of her mind, she could feel the leering eyes coming from her father’s drawing-room. She could feel the hot, foul breath against her cheek. She squeezed her eyes closed. When she opened them, Arlene was busy picking lint from one pant leg.

  “What else do you remember?” Arlene ignored the question.

  “I’m having tomato soup and crackers when Misty comes over. Tomato soup is my favorite.”

  “Let’s talk about your dad, shall we?”

  “Daddy is dead. The bad boys killed him.” There was no emotion in Arlene’s voice. It was as if she were reporting traffic conditions.

  “What was your daddy like before he died? Do you remember, Arlene?”

  “He was funny. Mom liked him when he was funny.”

  “What else?”

  “He liked football?”

  Grace’s line of questioning was going nowhere. She had spent years working with Arlene. Her first breakthrough gave Grace hope that the woman’s mind could go beyond her fourteen years, that she could grow up and lead a normal life. This was not going to happen anytime soon. And what about you, Grace? When are you going to grow up? Get past your demons? The thought hit her like a lightning bolt. She shuddered. Where was this coming from? Why was she feeling this woman’s pain? Why have you blocked out your childhood memories? The voice argued inside her head. My childhood was great.

  The rebuttal came like a swift kick. Liar.

  “Arlene, what did your father do when the boys came?”

  “I’m having tomato soup with Misty today,” she repeated. Suddenly her purse needed cleaning again. Grace hit a sore spot.

  “It wasn’t your fault the boys came in, Arlene. You were a little girl. Your father was supposed to protect you.” Like yours protected you? Grace felt vomit rise to her throat.

  “Excuse me, Arlene, I’ll be right back.” Grace rushed out of her office through the front door and down the hall. She burst into the ladies room and into an empty stall just in time to release her breakfast and whatever remained of last night’s dinner. When she finished heaving, she splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth. She faced the woman in the mirror. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked her disheveled reflection. The paper bag containing the pregnancy test came to mind. Shit.

  “She’s gone,” Sal announced when Grace re-entered the office.

  “Did she say anything?”

  “Yeah, she said she was going home to have tomato soup.”

  Grace closed the door and picked up the phone. “Is Dr. Meltz back yet?”

  “Sorry, Grace,” said Stephanie, Dr. Meltz’s office manager.

  “We don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “Why? What’s wrong? Is Willa okay?”

  “Willa’s fine, but they’re doing some tests on the baby.”

  “No—”

  “I’m sure everything will be fine. You know Dr. Meltz. That’s his granddaughter. He probably has everyone at St. Joe’s hoppin’.”

  “St. Joe’s in Stockton?”

  Stephanie’s voice dropped an octave. “No, Orange County.”

  “It’s serious!”

  “God, Grace, I’ve said too much. Don’t worry. The baby will be fine. I’ll let Dr. Meltz know you called. He’ll be checking in later today. Want me to ask him to call you?”

  “Could you, please? I—” She felt nauseated again. “Thanks, Stephanie.” Grace hung up the phone and dug her cell from her bag. She scrolled to Paul’s number and pressed “call.”

  “Hey, it’s Grace. I’m not going to make it through the day. I’m…eh, not feeling well. Don’t worry about picking me up. I’ll get over to see Sneaky after I get some rest. Thanks for all your help. Bye.”

  Grace dialed the number for a local cab company, gathered her things, and locked her door.

  “Where are you off to?” Sal wanted to know.

  “Touch of the flu. I need to go home.”

  “Flu? Pish. What’s wrong?”

  “Why do always assume I am keeping something from you?”

  “Because you usually are,” Sal stood and looked her friend in the eye, “Now what’s up?”

  “Someone broke into my house last night and almost killed Sneaky. She’s at the vet hospital. I’m sick about it.”

  “Well yeah! God, who would do such a heinous thing?”

  “I don’t know, Sal. But when I find the son-of-a-bitch, his balls are going to be—

  “Calm down,” Sal rushed to her side. “Let me take you home. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

  “I called a cab. I’ll be fine.”

  “Have it your way, but look at me.” Grace obeyed. “John is home. I am going to have him meet you at your house. He can go in with you and check the place out so I won’t have to chew my nails to the quick. Deal?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good. I’d hate to waste a good manicure on your stubbornness.” She massaged Grace’s shoulders.

  When the cab arrived, Grace felt better. She knew she was that much closer to her bed, her pillow, and the paper bag? Yes. She needed to pee on the strip and find out once and for all. Either way, you need help, she told herself.

  ***

  John was waiting, as Sal promised. “Let me go in first,” he said in his deepest over-protective voice.

  “Didn’t want Sal to ruin her nails,” Grace joked, feeling silly, but grateful.

  “Sal tells me someone tried to kill your dog.” John set to work checking locks and acting all detective-like.

  “There’s no sign of a break-in, John. Paul checked.”

  “Paul?”

  “A friend, a tall friend. No offense.”

  “You mean you didn’t fall for Dr. Smiley?” He felt above the door jams and inspected the hinges.

  “Sorry, I know he’s your friend, but he gave me the creeps.”

  John stopped working. He eyed Grace intently. “He didn’t try anything with you, did he? I’ll crush his balls with my bare hands!”

  “No! He did call me a bitch, she jested, “but I certainly acted the part.”

  “He knows where you live. He could’ve—”

  “No, he’s short, but he didn’t strike me as a lunatic…or a dog killer. He cried during Cats.”

  “He cried? Really?”

  “He got misty.”

  “That’s different. Guys can get misty; that’s cool. Women love that stuff, but there’s a line, you know.” John returned to his inspection.

  Grace gnawed on her bottom lip.

  “See anything out of the ordinary?” she asked, stretching to peer over his shoulder.

  “Nope. Whoever entered,” he turned to face her, “had a key.”

  “A key?” Grace backed away. Her brow channeled with confusion, then concern.

  “Sal’s key is on the hook in the cupboard,” John said. “I saw it there before I left.”

  Grace stiffened. “Garret had a key.”

  “Did he have it on him the night he was shot?”

 
; “I don’t know. I—”

  “Damn, Grace, that’s not good.” He shook his head. “Any idea what happen to his stuff?” John’s strong hands clamped his waist as he considered the possibilities the situation now presented. “Hell,” he concluded, “anyone could have it by now.”

  ***

  Jess couldn’t concentrate on work. He jangled the keys in his pocket and checked his watch. He flipped his phone open again and scrolled through his messages. “Damn you, Grace.” He snapped the phone shut. Today may have to be a short day after all, he thought, rubbing his knee. It throbbed. He reached for another pain pill. “Fuckin’ dog,” he said between clenched teeth. He rose, shut down his computer, and grabbed his briefcase.

  “I’m off to the library,” he said, rapping his knuckles on his secretary’s desk.

  “Library my ass, pretty boy,” Melissa said. “When you comin’ back? That’s what I wanna know.”

  Jess acted insulted. Melissa smiled up at him, “Just coverin’ my butt, sweetie.”

  “I’ll call you. Honest. I have the Rupert’s case to prepare...and that appeal for Everett.”

  “I’ll cover for you, but keep it real with me. Make sure you have cell reception. No excuses. My ass is plenty big to chew on, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

  “You like it,” he teased in his sexy tone. “I know you do.”

  Melissa began to giggle. “Get outta here before I take a bite outta you, cupcake.”

  Jess opened his glove box. He fingered the item he kept hidden under his warranty packet. The pearl handle gave him a little thrill. He shut the door and started his engine. He merged into traffic and headed for Grace’s office.

  ***

  When John was confident that Grace’s home was secure, he left. Grace went upstairs, prepared a cold cloth, and placed it on her forehead. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. When did things turn so ugly? The voice inside her head responded with a journey back in time. When Garret died, when Candy killed herself, when you turned thirty-one, when Jess moved back to Sacramento?

  Jess didn’t like her dog, but he wouldn’t hurt her, would he? No, he wasn’t that bad. At one time, he was kind and caring. Controlling. She closed her eyes. I refuse to go there just because some asshole has it out for me. Jess wouldn’t hurt me. “Damnit!” She bounced off the bed and ran downstairs.

  She opened the paper bag on the counter and withdrew the box, noticing it had been crushed on one side. Funny, she didn’t recall the container being in that condition when she bought it. Not like buying a pair of shoes.

  She pulled out the contents to read the instructions. Get it over with.

  She sat on the commode, unwrapped cellophane, and turned the stick in her hand. Here goes nothin’, the voice inside her head announced. A sickening feeling welled inside her. “Please don’t let this test be positive,” she prayed out loud.

  ***

  “Where’s Grace?” Jess demanded.

  “She went home. She isn’t feeling well,” Sal replied defensively.

  “When did she leave?”

  “Why the questions?”

  “It’s your job to answer questions.”

  “Really?”

  “What time did she leave?”

  “You’re the one who should leave.”

  “Don’t be a pain in the ass, Sal. Just answer my question.”

  “Leave before I call security.” Sal reached for the pepper spray inside her file drawer.

  “When did you become such a bitch, Sal? I thought we were friends! I came here to see the woman I love, and you give me a bad time!”

  “I’ll tell her you stopped by.” Sal’s eyes held his firmly. Determination held back her fear.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Forgive me. She hasn’t been returning my calls.” He folded his arms across his chest and bowed his head. “Ever been in love, Sal? It hurts sometimes. First that sergeant; now this guy.”

  Sal didn’t take the bait. He was clever, even smooth, but Sal was the mother of five boys. She knew how to be tough. “‘This too shall pass’ is what I’d tell my kids.” Sal slapped the folder she had been working on closed. “Go home, Jess. I’ll give her the message.”

  “What does he have that I don’t?”

  He’s digging, Sal thought. Why? “How’s that red head we saw you with at the restaurant?”

  “She’s a colleague and nothing more.”

  “She’s very pretty.” Sal cocked one eyebrow. “I’ll tell Grace you stopped by.” Sal began to work, hoping he would take the hint that she was too busy to chat all day.

  “Yeah, you tell her that.” He banged his hand flat on the counter making Sal jump. “Good to see you, Sal.” He left, slamming the door behind him.

  Sal picked up the phone.

  “Grace, it’s Sal,” she yelled into the receiver. “Pick up!”

  Grace flushed the toilet and placed the dip-stick in the cup she set on the back of the tank. She caught the phone on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Grace! You all right?” Sal asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Jess stopped by here. He’s got a loose screw. He’s dangerous. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Slow down. What happened?”

  “He barged in here demanding to know where you were, what time you left. He was feeling me out about Paul.”

  “Why would he do that? He’s met Paul.”

  “He got nasty.”

  “He’s probably just upset with me. I haven’t returned his calls. I have all this stuff going on, I haven’t had time.”

  “I wanted to warn you. I told him you went home sick. Instead of seeming concerned, he seemed angry. I tell you, Grace, he gives me the willies. Is John still there…in case he shows up?”

  “John left. I’m fine, Sal. Don’t worry. I’m going to lie down for a while. I’ll call you when I wake up.”

  Grace rushed through the house checking all the doors to make sure they were locked. Just in case. She didn’t have anything to fear with Jess, did she? He was controlling, not a maniac. What do you really know about him? A voice nagged inside her head, making her wonder. She thought back, Not much. She had met his family once in Chicago. His folks were strange. Jess looked nothing like either one. Robert Bartell was blond, Nordic looking. His mom appeared Spanish. They didn’t say much. Grace recalled Jess doing most of the talking. When Grace asked the couple about Jess’s boyhood, they didn’t offer much. Jess always intervened. She thought they were snooty, and Jess acted embarrassed. Now she wondered.

  ***

  Jess peeked into the garage. Grace’s car wasn’t there. He looked around to see if any of the neighbors were outside to notice the intrusion. The way Grace’s home was situated on the lot gave her plenty of privacy. He liked that. It made it easier for him to slip in and out without being noticed. He pulled the key he needed from his ring, inserted it into the lock, and turned the key. Before he entered, he stopped to listen. Water shushing through the pipes? Someone was inside. She is home.

  ***

  When Grace hung up with Sal, she returned to the bathroom to check the results of her pregnancy test. Apprehensive, she read the directions on the box once more. Yes, her nausea had been increasing. She hadn’t had a period for at least two months. This is it.

  She was about to turn the stick to check for a plus or minus when she heard a noise, a key turning the backdoor lock. Her hand shook so hard, the stick fell into the toilet bowl. Startled, she pulled the handle and flushed, watching the stick swirl around and around. It lodged sideways for an instant until the rushing water sent it swishing down the hole. Great! A hard knock on the door stole her attention. Palpitations began and she didn’t move. “Grace?” A voice, outside the door called, “It’s Jess. Sal said you’re not feeling well. Grace?” He knocked again. “Are you okay? I’m concerned.”

  Grace crumpled the box and shoved it under the sink. She took a deep breath and went to the door.<
br />
  “I’m not feeling well, Jess. I’m going to bed. I think it’s the flu. I don’t want you to catch it. We can talk when I’m feeling better.”

  “I had a flu shot. I’m not worried. Let me come in, I’ll take care of you.”

  “Thanks, but I just want to be alone. I like to vomit by myself. Please, go home. I’ll call you in a couple of days.” Liar, he seethed.

  Grace felt relieved when she heard Jess’s car pull away. She’d have felt even better if she’d been able to read the results of the test. She wanted the nightmare over with. Can’t leave the house. You don’t have your car. Now what? She dialed Paul.

  “Paul, it’s Grace again. I need a favor.”

  ***

  “Is this what you wanted?” Paul handed Grace the box he pulled from the bag.

  “Yes, thanks.” She met his gaze. “Don’t judge me, okay?”

  “You want to tell me what’s going on? I may be a guy, but I’m an excellent listener.” Grace could see the sincerity in his eyes. She turned away.

  “I hadn’t had sex in—” She turned back to face him. “Garret was gone. Jess separated from his wife. I’ve had some weak moments, not very smart ones.

  “Mistakes aren’t meant to be smart.” His eyes were kind, his voice gentle. “How are you feeling?”

  “I threw up today.”

  “I see. Can you keep anything down?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not hungry.”

  “I’ll fix you some ginger tea. That will help.”

  “I don’t—”

  Before she could object, he had his wallet open and a tea packet in hand.

  “Pregnancy is my forte.” He rinsed the kettle, filled it with water, and turned on the stove. “What were you going to say?” “Didn’t think vets dealt—”

  “Any other symptoms?”

  Her eyes dropped to the floor. “I’m late.”

  “Things are adding up.” He lifted her chin and felt her glands.

  He unclenched her fists and examined her palms. “Sleeping?”

  “Not very well.”

  “Nightmares?”

  “Trying to steal my job?” she joked.