'Wait a sec here,' Peters bristled. 'I've got one more thing to say to you.' He sounded as if he meant it-call- waiting be damned!
'What's that?' I asked innocently.
'Did anyone ever tell you you're one close-mouthed son of a bitch?'
'No,' I told him. 'I don't believe anyone's ever mentioned it before. You're the very first one.'
'The hell I am!' he growled, and slammed down the phone.
I tried clicking the switch hook, but the caller had already given up. Feeling guilty, I headed into the dining room in search of breakfast left-overs.
I still don't understand why Ron Peters was so offended. If I had tried to tell him the whole story of my romantic interlude in Ashland, Oregon, we would have been on the phone for days.
CHAPTER 13
Around ten, two young women from the Festival appeared. One came to take care of Amber. The other was a temporary fill-in as Oak Hill's upstairs maid. Although I'm sure they were both just scraping by financially, neither would accept any payment. The substitute maid told Florence that she should fill out the time card as though Kelly had come to work herself. Nice people.
Cut free from our self-inflicted baby-sitting chores, Alex and I stopped by the hospital to see Kelly. The room had been fairly dark the night before. This morning the curtains were open, and the entire place was alive with flowers.
Some of the arrangements were obvious refugees from the canceled wedding. A few were commercial-type baskets, including a huge one from the board of directors of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. But the ones that got to me most-the ones that put a lump in my throat-were the numerous amateurish but thoughtfully put together, homegrown variety in simple cut-glass vases. This astonishing array covered every available horizontal surface. It was as though all the gardeners of Ashland had collectively taken their green thumbs outdoors early that morning and plucked their flower beds clean of every colorful bloom.
When it comes to flowers, I don't know much beyond the basics, which is to say roses. And some of the bouquets actually contained roses, but most of the flowers in that vivid assortment I couldn't have named on a bet.
Looking at them ranged everywhere and spilling out into the hall, I didn't think it possible that the people of Ashland would shower someone as new to town as Kelly with that kind of abundant affection. What I kept forgetting, though, is that Ashland is small-town America. In a place like that, people don't have to know someone personally in order to give a damn.
Don't get me wrong. I like Seattle, but Ashland was showing me that my home turf isn't necessarily the only place to live.
Kelly was asleep when we first arrived. Alex waited around a while, then Dinky came to pick her up, and the two of them set out for Medford to do some shopping. I sat beside Kelly's bed watching and thinking.
I knew that beneath the swathe of bandages the doctors and nurses had shaved off a huge patch of her long blond hair. If anything, the bruises on her face had grown darker overnight. But hair grows back. Bruises heal. The important thing was that she was still alive and most likely would recover.
A few minutes later, Kelly's eyes blinked open. At first she looked around with the dazed, puzzled expression of someone who can't remember quite who or where she is. Then her gaze settled on my face, and she smiled. Her hand sought mine, held it, and squeezed. No paralysis, at least not in her arms. I breathed a small prayer of thanksgiving.
'Hi, Daddy,' she whispered. 'How long have you been here?'
'Just a couple of minutes.'
'Why didn't you wake me? Have you seen the baby?'
I nodded. 'She's perfect. She looks just like you did when you were born.'
Kelly's lips were dry and cracked. Positioning the straw, I helped her take a sip of ice water from a glass beside the bed. 'Jeremy told me what you're doing for Tanya,' she said. 'That you're helping her and taking care of Amber. Thank you.'
I didn't want to take credit where it wasn't due. I certainly didn't merit thanks. 'It's all Alex's doing,' I said.
Kelly closed her eyes. I thought she was sleeping again, but a moment later her blue eyes flutered back open. 'Jeremy told me there was someone dead in the basement, some woman. I couldn't understand it. Who was she? Why was she there?'
'Her name is Daphne Lewis. She was from Seattle.'
'If she was there and I saw her, why don't I remember? Why is it all blank? I remember eating lunch, and the next thing is waking up here in the hospital.'
My own nightmarish remembrance of Daphne Lewis dangling on the end of the rope was still far too fresh. 'It's a blessing you can't remember, Kelly, something to be grateful for.'
'But it seems weird to have that part of my life gone just like that. Erased. I keep thinking if I just concentrate…'
'Let it go, Kelly,' I advised. 'Forget it. If you're going to concentrate on something, focus on getting well so you can get out of here, go home, and take care of Karen.'
Kelly went right on as though I hadn't said a word. 'Daphne Lewis?' She frowned. 'Who is she, and why do the police think Tanya killed her? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.'
I gave up avoiding the issue and tried answering questions. 'Tanya knew Daphne Lewis years ago. There's enough evidence connecting them to arouse Detective Fraymore's suspicions.'
'But Tanya's so nice,' Kelly argued. 'You don't know her the way I do. She's not violent. She would never kill anyone, no matter what.'
It was more or less the same thing Jeremy had said. Clearly, there was much about Tanya that neither Kelly nor Jeremy suspected, and it wasn't my place to tell them otherwise.
'Kelly,' I said reprovingly. 'Remember the other day? You told me to stop playing detective. Now I'm telling you the same thing. I'm not on duty here. Neither are you. Your only job is to get well.'
Kelly nodded and then winced, as though even that small movement pained her. 'All right,' she said. 'I'll try.'
About then I spied Grandma Karen Livingston out in the hallway. The nurse had told us to limit both visits and visitors so as not to tire the patient. With that in mind, I told Kelly good-bye and got up to leave. Karen caught me outside the room.
'Dave went to pick Scott up from the motel,' she said. 'We're all going home today.'
'So soon? I thought you'd stick around for a while, maybe help with the baby until Kelly gets back on her feet.'
'No.' Karen shook her head emphatically. 'I can't do that. We have to go. I just wanted to thank you for all you've done.'
I felt like shaking her. What the hell could be more important than being there when her daughter was in the hospital? But since Karen was supposedly being conciliatory, I did the same.
'If the wedding is rescheduled for later this summer, will you come back?'
Karen met my gaze for a moment, then she looked away. 'Maybe,' she said.
Maybe? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Kelly was Karen's only daughter, and yet she couldn't do any better than a lame 'maybe' when it came to attending a wedding? Karen slipped away from me into Kelly's room before I had a chance to reply.
Instantly furious, I stomped out of the hospital. Here I was bending over backward to get along. Why, then, did Karen have to be so damn difficult? The wedding Jeremy and Kelly had planned had been blown apart by circumstances far beyond their control. What would it hurt if our granddaughter was two months old or six months or even a year when the wedding took place? Call me an old-fashioned, romantic fool, but I still thought her parents deserved a real wedding to celebrate their marriage. I couldn't understand why Karen Livingston didn't agree.
