“They can’t afford Memorial,” said Doreen, making a face as the waiter filled coffee mugs for Miles, Jenny, and Xander, and placed a latte in front of me. He then took our breakfast orders, and returned to the kitchen.
“How do you know that?” asked Jenny. She sounded surprised. She had no idea how much time Doreen spent scouring the internet for information about Violet. I had no doubt she knew more than the rest of us did.
“I read about it. They’d move her, if they could. Memorial’s a private hospital, and expensive. The one she’s at is private too, but they’re shouldering most of the expense since the parents can’t afford it otherwise. There’s an article about it, how generous that is. And it isn’t just a mental health facility, it’s a regular hospital too.” She shot another glance at Xander.
“So their finances won’t allow it,” said Miles, thinking out loud.
“No. They’re working class, that’s what the article said, and don’t have a lot to begin with. Even though Pineview’s charging such a reduced rate, they can barely afford it. There was a website where people could donate money to help with expenses, but it didn’t say if anyone ever did.”
“Okay,” said Miles, turning to me.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking, and I love it,” I said. “That’s what that particular division of the Bannerman Foundation is for.”
“It makes sense you’d want to help anyway, since you can,” said Xander. “As far as the world knows, you survived a brain injury and a coma, yourself.”
“True,” I said. “You certainly know about what Memorial has to offer.”
“Why is that?” Jenny asked Miles.
“In spite of having no sign of a previous brain injury, I had several follow up visits scheduled at Memorial along with physical therapy, after I returned.”
“You’d think they wanted that brain injury to reappear as hard as they tried to find a sign of it,” I said.
“Are you going to call her parents?” asked Doreen.
“Yes, we’ll need to get the number and do that,” said Miles.
“Do you want their home number, or work? Because they’re probably both at work right now,” said Doreen.
“I’ll bet you can supply us with both,” Miles smiled.
“Yeah, I can,” Doreen smiled back.
“Maybe your ability is that you’re incredibly smart and observant, and have a gift for research,” said Miles, and Doreen grinned and looked pleased.
I gave up on suggesting she spend the rest of the day watching Disney Princess movies. Unless there was one with an interactive murder investigation, there was no way she’d go for that. No, this child that in some ways looked older than I did, was already involved in the real thing and determined to stay that way.
“After breakfast, I’ll call Violet’s parents,” said Miles. “We’ll get this process started immediately, and take the financial burden off of them and give Violet every chance there is to recover.”
“Maybe this is why you came in contact with her,” said Jenny. “Maybe this is what your role is meant to be.”
Doreen didn’t like that.
“Yeah, but she’s got to know who tried to kill her! She said so,” said Doreen. Then she thought of something else. “Whoever did it, could try again! What good would it do for her to recover and then get killed, only maybe for real this time?”
I didn’t want my sister involved in this, but…
“Our role is two-fold. To find the truth of what happened to her that night, and to provide her with the means to recover. We’re the only ones that can do either of these things.”
Doreen gave the table at large a triumphant smile.
The waiter brought our orders. We put aside further conversation for later, and focused on consuming breakfast. There was much to be done today, as there had been every day since we arrived.
We’d get it done though, and when we did, I’d suggest going back to Stonecastle Inn to hide from the world for a while. Because there was no knowing what would come after this. I just knew something would. Something always would.
And that’s the truth.
Chapter 16
Doreen and I sat quietly in the office of our suite watching Miles, and waiting more or less patiently to see if Mr. or Mrs. O’Neill would answer the phone. A call to each of their places of business told us they both had today off. Now if only they were at home!
Miles suddenly held up his hand, alerting Doreen and I that we mustn’t interrupt. There was a mix of excitement and concentration in his eyes.
“Hello, this is Miles Bannerman, executive director of the Bannerman Foundation. Yes, ma’am. No, I’m not selling anything. However, I was recently made aware of your daughter’s accident, and I’d like to help. One of our branches is dedicated to removing the financial burden of medical expenses from the shoulders’ of the parents of critically ill children…”
Miles went on to explain the Foundation, how it worked, and although Mrs. O’Neill was very afraid this hope that was being held out would turn out to be a joke, Miles convinced her to get on her computer, and then gave her the appropriate websites to go to and see exactly how legitimate the Foundation is. She and Mr. O’Neill then agreed to meet with Miles and I… and groan, my sister… at a coffee shop in Glen Haven. At the mention of “coffee shop,” my sister almost groaned!
Miles pressed the end button on his phone and looked at his watch.
“We’re meeting in thirty minutes, so we need to get going in ten. Are you both ready to go?” he asked.
“I am,” I said.
“Me too,” said Doreen.
“I need to call Memorial, also,” Miles said, looking at his watch.
“Do it on the way there, I’ll drive,” I said.
Miles raised an eyebrow at me.
“For pity’s sake, Miles! I’ve never been in an accident. Besides, you’ve got superpowers. I couldn’t get in one, if I wanted to.”
“I’m teasing, honey,” he smiled. “After all, you’re the one who taught me to drive.”
“You’re lucky you’re telling the truth,” I said, my feathers un-ruffling. “You’ve commented on my driving before, though.”
“Yes. Before you discovered your truth ability. I haven’t, since. Did you notice I didn’t speak? I’m finding it hard to get away with teasing you these days. I’ve had to get creative.”
I laughed.
“Are we going?” asked Doreen, clearly bored.
“Yes. Let’s go,” said Miles.
I grabbed my purse and my phone, and we were on our way.
While I drove, Miles made his phone call informing Memorial that the Bannerman Foundation would foot the bill for the new patient coming their way. After we met with the O’Neills, they’d need to go by the hospital and sign transfer orders to have Violet moved, and we’d go back to our suite and wait for Violet to wake up. Whatever happened, we mustn’t miss out on that narrow opportunity to tell her the truth.
I parked in front of the coffee shop, and Miles fed the meter.
The smell of freshly roasted and brewed coffee enveloped us as we opened the door and stepped inside.
“Why doesn’t it taste the way it smells?” asked Doreen.
“That I don’t know,” said Miles. “Coffee isn’t all they serve, though. Pick out something else, instead. They serve pastries, also.”
“Ooh, those look good!” Doreen was suddenly distracted from all else, by snowman shaped sugar cookies in the display case.
We placed our orders. Once our drinks were made and Doreen had her sugar cookie, we chose a table and watched for Violet’s parents. Before long, a nervous looking couple walked through the door of the shop. They glanced around, then their eyes fastened on Miles as he stood, smiling, and walked towards them. They recognized him from his photo on the Foundation website, because a look of relief washed over their faces. This wasn’t a joke, the help being offered was real, and it could make all the difference for their d
aughter.
Mrs. O’Neill’s eyes filled with tears, and she hugged Miles. I couldn’t hear what any of them were saying, but he spoke to her and to Mr. O’Neill, and she smiled and wiped her eyes. Then they walked together to the order station. I’d never cease to enjoy watching Miles put nervous, anxious people at ease. They were smiling, and even laughed. They were talking too, and hope now filled their eyes.
They received their orders, and Miles led them to our table.
“This is my wife Anika, and her sister Doreen,” Miles smiled. “Anika and Doreen, these are Violet’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill.”
I stood and shook hands with Mr. O’Neill. Doreen smiled and gave a small wave, and Mrs. O’Neill hugged me and shed a few more tears of relief.
“I’m very glad to meet you,” I said. Mrs. O’Neill needed a minute.
“You can’t know how glad we are to meet you,” said Mr. O’Neill, his eyes a little misty.
I hoped sharing our family history wouldn’t offend my sister… but it was relevant.
“I truly can, sir. My sister once had an undiagnosed illness that left our family financially devastated.”
“We lost everything,” said Doreen.
“I met Miles after this, and he not only pointed us in the right direction for a diagnosis, but through the Bannerman Foundation he put my family back on their feet, and provided the treatment she needed to recover.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Mrs. O’Neill, seeing us from a new perspective.
“He did?” asked Doreen, her eyes wide.
“Yes. Miles is the friend who told me about chronic Lyme, and gave me the website where Mom found your doctor.”
Doreen seemed to see Miles with new eyes, also.
“I didn’t know that,” she said, and Miles just smiled.
“No wonder you married him,” said Mrs. O’Neill.
“I actually married him for his looks,” I smiled, and everyone laughed.
“She’s not nearly as shallow as she sounds right at the moment,” Miles smiled back at me, as everyone laughed again. He then turned to the O’Neills, as Mrs. O’Neill spoke.
“We can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing.”
She was a little misty-eyed again.
“We’ve heard good things about Memorial,” said Mr. O’Neill. “Maybe it’ll make a difference.”
“Memorial has an excellent neurosciences department, with physicians in the top of their field,” said Miles. “They specialize in brain injury. Violet will be in good hands there.”
“We… saw some articles from a couple of years ago,” said Mr. O’Neill. “I guess you’ve had some experience in this department.”
He and Mrs. O’Neill gave Miles a searching look. He inspired hope in them, because they believed he’d been in a coma for eleven months, and came out unscathed. Aside from those gunshot wounds. Not that they knew about that!
“Yes, my family has had personal experience with this. When I was released from the hospital and allowed to return home, part of my physical therapy took place at Memorial. I had follow-up appointments with several of the neurosurgeons there also, including Dr. Reeves, who was my physician after the accident that left me hospitalized for so long. He transferred to Memorial after my release, in order to follow my case. I have the utmost respect for him, and for the rest of the team there.”
They wanted to ask more. They had so many questions, I could see it in their eyes.
“The doctor at Pineview said it’d make no difference if we spoke to Violet or not,” said Mrs. O’Neill. “But that’s not what others have said.”
“It can make all the difference,” said Miles. “Do visit, do talk to her. She needs that.”
The O’Neills looked as if Miles was confirming what they’d been sure of all along.
“Do you reckon we’ll be able to visit her much at Memorial?” asked Mr. O’Neill.
“Yes, absolutely,” said Miles. “The Neurosciences ICU visiting hours are similar to the hospital’s regular visiting hours.”
A look of relief washed over both their faces.
“Didn’t they let you see her at the other hospital?” asked Doreen, with a puzzled frown.
“Not much they didn’t,” said Mr. O’Neill with asperity. “Their visiting hours were slim to none.”
“You’ll find that Memorial is very different,” said Miles. “You’ll be encouraged to see Violet as much as possible.”
“It won’t take much encouragement, all we need’s opportunity,” said Mrs. O’Neill, as she and Mr. O’Neill exchanged a look of agreement.
“You’ll have that,” said Miles.
“What happened to Violet?” asked Doreen.
Oh my goodness, talk about blunt! I shot her a silencing glance, but Mrs. O’Neill answered.
“She had an accident and was bad hurt,” she said. Her eyes flashed a bit over her thoughts, whatever they were.
“Do you know what happened?” Doreen asked, ignoring me entirely.
The O’Neills looked at each other uncomfortably, then Mr. O’Neill answered.
“We think it was her boyfriend,” he said.
“How awful!” said Doreen. “I read the articles, and wondered.”
Oh my goodness, that child! I hurried to explain away her knowledge of Violet’s assault and take back the conversation.
“She’s an avid reader,” snoop is more like it, “and must have heard Miles and I discussing Violet’s situation, and looked up the information.”
“The police couldn’t seem to figure it out,” said Doreen.
Oh my word. If only she had a mute button. But the O’Neills weren’t acting uncomfortable at all. No, they were getting into the spirit of the conversation!
“No, they sure didn’t,” said Mr. O’Neill, sounding a little fiery. “I’m sure it had to be him though.”
“She went to the party to see him,” said Mrs. O’Neill. “He didn’t want her there.”
“Why?” asked my irrepressible sister. “She was his girlfriend!”
“He didn’t want her there because the daughter of the professor who owned the house, didn’t want her there,” said Mrs. O’Neill grimly.
“As if it was her business!” said Doreen.
“Well, it… was her house,” Mrs. O’Neill acknowledged reluctantly.
“Why would he go at all, if Violet couldn’t go too?” Doreen wanted to know. Doreen already knew, she wanted their take on it.
If Mom only knew what her other daughter was doing right now!
“He said he had no choice,” said Mr. O’Neill with disapproval. “A man’s always got a choice!”
“He worked for the professor, and somehow he made it out that he had to go. It was part of his job. He said that, but we don’t believe it at all now,” said Mrs. O’Neill.
“So what about this daughter, then?” asked Doreen. “Why’d she care if Violet came?”
“She was jealous, that’s what,” Mrs. O’Neill snapped. She looked as though she’d like to snap that girl in two. “She’s a piece of work, that one.”
“So she liked Spence, and didn’t want Violet with him,” Doreen prompted. “She thought if Violet didn’t come, she’d have a chance.”
“Maybe,” said Mrs. O’Neill.
“It’s more like it that Spence was seeing Violet and this other girl at the same time, and didn’t want them knowing about each other,” said Mr. O’Neill.
Hm.
“So you think Violet went to the party and found out,” said Doreen. “She confronted Spence, and there was a struggle. Either he meant to hurt her, or it was an accident, but she ended up hurt.”
“If a smart young girl like you can figure that out, why can’t the police, I’d like to know!” said Mr. O’Neill.
“Well, let’s not be too quick to judge,” said Mrs. O’Neill. “They are looking at Spence. They’re taking a good long look at him.”
“That’s true, they are now,” said Mr. O’Neill, hi
s annoyance somewhat pacified for the moment.
“What’s changed?” I asked.
“A witness has come forward,” said Mrs. O’Neill with satisfaction.
“Do you know who this witness is?” asked Miles.
“No, only that there is one,” said Mr. O’Neill. “Knowing that boy and what he’s capable of, it wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve got that witness in the witness protection program.”
“So you disliked this guy from the beginning,” I stated.
Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill glanced at each other, reluctant to own up.
“We liked him just fine at first, from what we saw of him,” said Mrs. O’Neill. “That wasn’t much of course, they hadn’t been dating long. He fooled us though, just like he fooled Violet.”
“When he told her not to show up at the party because of that other girl, that right there said it all,” said Mr. O’Neill. “It said Violet wasn’t a priority.”
“You said Spence didn’t want Violet there. Did he know she was coming, though? Or did she plan to surprise him?” I asked.
Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill tried to think back and find the answer to that.
“You know I… don’t know for sure. I reckon she went to surprise him though,” said Mr. O’Neill.
I looked at Miles. I couldn’t think of anything else to ask. Doreen must not be able to either, because she was concentrating on eating her snowman cookie and drinking cider.
“Are there any questions we can answer for you about the Foundation?” asked Miles, bringing the conversation back around.
“I can’t think of a one,” said Mr. O’Neill, after first giving Mrs. O’Neill a chance to speak if she wanted to.
“Alright. If you do think of any, please don’t hesitate to call,” said Miles, as he took a business card out of his wallet. I handed him a pen, and he wrote his cell number on the back and gave the card to Mr. O’Neill. “I’ll be happy to help in any way possible. Once you sign the transfer papers everything should move forward smoothly. If you run into any trouble at all, please let me know.”
“We’ll do that,” said Mr. O’Neill, as we all stood, and he and Miles shook hands. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for our family.”
The Lodge at Whispering Pines Page 23