by Judy Duarte
Sam furrowed his brow. “She thinks you’re an angel?”
“Well, not me. In the letter, I told her my name was Claire. But she calls me Mrs. Harper. I don’t think she realizes I’m one and the same.”
“We’ve got to set her straight.”
“You’re right.”
Sam was glad to have Claire’s support, but he still wasn’t exactly sure how to handle the situation. “Should I take her to a child psychologist?”
“Maybe. But how about a clergyman? Your brother might have wanted you to go that route.”
“I’m sure he would have.” Sam fought the urge to glance skyward, where he imagined Greg looking down at him, chuffing and shaking his head. “But I don’t attend church and wouldn’t know who to call.”
“Do you believe in God?” she asked.
The question caught him a little off guard. “I used to tell my brother I didn’t, just to see him get all fired up. But to be honest, I’ve always found it hard to believe that the earth and its inhabitants were created by some cosmic hiccup.”
“So you don’t believe in the Big Bang?”
“That could have happened when God said, ‘Let there be light.’”
“So you do have faith,” Claire concluded.
“Faith? I don’t know about that. I believe in a creator, but I’m not religious. I don’t see a need for church attendance. Nor do I go around praying or asking for things I can’t provide for myself.”
Yet if truth be told, there was something refreshing and innocent about Analisa’s faith, and Sam hated to see her lose it completely.
Deciding upon the right way to handle the situation would take some careful thought.
“Good morning,” a familiar little voice said from the doorway.
Sam and Claire turned to see Analisa standing barefoot in the kitchen. She wore pink pajamas and held Lucita in her arms.
Claire offered her a cheerful smile. “Hello, Analisa. Did you sleep well?”
The child nodded, then yawned, as she made her way to Claire. “Mrs. Harper, are you still going to be my babysitter?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. After Uncle Sam goes to the office, are you and me going someplace in a car today?”
“Well, we can go to the park if you want. But there’s a story time at the library on Mondays. And the Heritage Museum in Old Town is always fun.”
“Maybe we should go to visit Mrs. Richards at the hospital,” the child said. “I want to tell her that God is going to make her better. I prayed about it, and He told me He would.”
Claire glanced at Sam, and all he could do was shrug.
When it came to dealing with Analisa’s faith, they had their work cut out for them.
On Monday morning at nine, Walter pushed through the revolving doors at Pacifica General and strode through the lobby. He nodded at the pink-smocked, gray-haired hospital volunteer who sat near the entrance to direct visitors and answer questions.
But he knew where he was going. The third floor, room 311. Hilda’s electrolyte levels were stabilizing, and they’d removed her from ICU and put her in a regular room. She’d come to, and he’d talked to her briefly, but she’d been pretty doped up.
Walter had spoken to another one of her doctors last night, a young man who reminded him of Doogie Howser—the medical boy wonder on that old TV series.
Dr. Whitehall seemed to be on his toes. If all had gone well during the night, as they’d expected, Hilda would have surgery later this afternoon.
Walter felt only slightly better about being at the hospital again today, but he figured that was because they’d moved Hilda out of intensive care and there was hope for a full recovery. After his Margie had suffered her heart attack, she’d never even rallied.
He stood before the elevator doors, along with a young man carrying a bud vase with three red roses. When the doors opened, they stepped inside.
“Going up?” Walter asked.
“Fourth floor.”
Walter hit the buttons for both of them, realizing that, according to the floors listed on the inside of the elevator, the guy was heading to Maternity. Normally, Walter kept assumptions and suppositions to himself, figuring he shouldn’t feed his curiosity when it irritated him to be quizzed by others, especially strangers. But for some reason, he couldn’t help asking. “Someone you know having a baby?”
“Me,” the dark-haired young man said, breaking into a grin. “Well, my wife and I. It’s our first. A little girl.”
Walter nodded. “Congratulations.”
When the door opened at the third floor, Walter stepped out into the hall, then made his way to Hilda’s room. Maybe he should have purchased flowers for her. They had some in the lobby gift shop. He’d seen them when he stopped to pick up a soda on his way out last night.
But then again, he wasn’t sure how she would feel about his visit. She really hadn’t been coherent before.
An RN at the nurses’ station glanced up as he walked by, but she didn’t say anything, so neither did he. When he reached Hilda’s room, he paused in the open doorway and peered inside, his feet growing colder by the minute.
She lay on the bed nearest the door, her eyes closed.
Sleeping again?
She turned her head, recognition dawning. She didn’t smile, so he wasn’t sure if his visit pleased her or not.
He took a step into the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, I suppose. A little fuzzy-headed from the pain medication they’ve been giving me.”
“I was here yesterday,” he admitted, inching a bit more into the room.
“One of my doctors told me. She said you followed the ambulance and stayed until dark.”
He’d been here on Sunday, too, but didn’t figure it was all that important to mention. He somehow made his feet move until he was standing at the foot of her bed. “You had me worried for a while.”
“They say, after I have surgery, I’ll be okay.”
He nodded. “From what I understand, all that water and tea you’ve been drinking created a problem for you and may have played a part in some of that forgetfulness you were concerned about.”
“I suppose that’s good news.”
“Yep.” For a guy who’d been determined to avoid hospitals at all costs, he kept racking his brain to come up with more things to say and a reason to stay, which made no sense at all.
How had he gotten himself into such an awkward situation?
She fingered the edge of the blanket that lay across her waist. “Thanks for calling the ambulance and for accompanying me to the hospital.”
“You’re welcome.”
She turned to the side, facing him, and grimaced. “I have a bit of a problem, Walter. And as much as I hate to ask, I need your help.”
“Of course. What do you want me to do?”
“I have two birds and a cat at home, and I’m afraid they’ll die with no one to care for them.”
He cleared his throat. “I…uh…took care of them yesterday. And I went back to check on them this morning.”
“You went to my apartment?”
“Only because I saw your grocery list and was afraid your pets might be out of food completely.” Walter stroked his chin, felt a small swatch of stubble his razor had missed this morning. “I hope you don’t mind me doing that without your permission. But when I was trying to give the hospital your information so they could admit you, I went through your purse. Your address was on your driver’s license.”
“You’d make a good PI.” She didn’t exactly smile, but her lips turned upward. “I suppose you now know my age and weight, too.”
She’d be seventy-two on her next birthday, which wasn’t far away. She also stood five-feet-two and weighed a hundred and ten pounds. But Walter knew some women were fussy about folks knowing that kind of information, so he blew off his knowledge with the snap of his fingers. “Darn. I should have paid it more mind. Of course, I suspect most women lie about
that stuff anyway.”
“Not me. That paperwork at the Department of Motor Vehicles makes it clear that you sign under penalty of perjury.”
Even though Margie had hated to admit she’d put on weight and was pushing a hundred and sixty-five pounds, which she’d thought was too much for her petite frame, she’d been truthful, too. “You remind me of my late wife.”
“How so?”
“Margie was so honest she didn’t feel right about taking a shortcut home.”
Hilda managed a full-on grin. “I probably would have liked her.”
“Without a doubt.” Everyone had. “By the way, while I was at the market, I picked up everything else on your list, too. Now you won’t have to worry about anything other than getting well.”
“You’re a good man, Walter.”
He didn’t know about that, so he shrugged off the compliment.
“How were my pets?” she asked.
“They were fine, although the cat didn’t much like me being there.”
“Her name is Precious, and I’m afraid she’s a bit old and crotchety.”
“Like us, huh?” Walter shot Hilda a grin, and she lobbed it right back.
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Her smile didn’t last long, although he suspected that was due to the medication she was on and the pain she was in. “Thanks for all you’ve done for me, Walter. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well…” He cleared his throat. “If there’s anything else I can do, just let me know.”
“All right.”
He took a seat in the chair next to her bed, wondering whether she’d tell him to skedaddle. She didn’t, although she soon lapsed into silence. He tried to think up something clever to say, but couldn’t come up with anything. So instead, he turned toward her with a smile, only to see that she’d dozed off.
For a while, he just sat there, waiting for her to wake up. When she didn’t, he slipped out of her room, planning to return before they took her to surgery.
There were some things a body shouldn’t have to face alone.
After Sam left for work, Claire took Analisa to Pacifica General Hospital to visit Hilda.
“There’s a good chance they won’t let you in,” Claire had told the child before they’d left home.
“But I want to give her the card I made.”
When Analisa had looked at her with those puppy-dog eyes, Claire had found it tough to say no. So she’d agreed to drive her to the hospital.
Once inside the lobby, they stopped at the information desk, which was manned by a pink-smocked hospital volunteer.
“We’d like to see Hilda Richards,” Claire said.
The silver-haired woman smiled, then, when she spotted Analisa, said, “I’m afraid the hospital doesn’t allow children under the age of thirteen to visit unless it’s in the maternity ward. The rule is for the protection of our patients, as well as our visitors.”
Analisa handed the homemade card to the woman. “Then could you give this to her?”
“Of course.” The volunteer carefully studied the child’s artwork, a folded sheet of yellow construction paper adorned with glitter and glue. “How beautiful. And so thoughtful. I’m sure she’ll feel much better when she sees this.”
Claire certainly hoped so. She took Analisa by the hand and led her out of the hospital. “Why don’t I take you to the playground while we’re out and about?”
Ten minutes later, they pulled into the entrance of Mulberry Park.
Walter wasn’t there today, but Trevor was. He had on the safety gear, which made Claire glad she’d given it to him. He also sported a red T-shirt that was at least one size too small, a shirt she’d seen him wear several other times this week.
Was his wardrobe limited to just a few outfits? Or did he, like Erik, have favorites that he chose time and again?
While Claire took her purse from the car and locked the doors, Analisa joined Trevor on the sidewalk. Another vehicle pulled into the lot, and at the sound of a grinding engine, she turned and watched Maria park her minivan a couple of spaces away.
Rather than continue toward a shady spot near the playground, Claire waited for the pregnant woman. The little boy—Danny, if she remembered correctly—was the first to open the door and exit the van. As Maria proceeded to remove the toddler from the car seat in the rear, the boy joined Analisa and Trevor.
“Good morning,” Claire said.
Maria glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Hi. I see you still have Analisa. How is Hilda doing?”
“She’s a bit better. From what I understand, her gallbladder surgery has been scheduled for this afternoon, barring any unexpected complications.”
Maria reached for two plastic grocery bags, both chock-full, then took the toddler by the hand. “I’d really like to visit her, but my sitter options are limited these days.”
Claire wasn’t sure how to respond. For a woman who’d been avoiding kids for the past three years, volunteering to watch Analisa had been a big step in itself. She certainly couldn’t offer to babysit for everyone in town. Nor was she up to the task.
As the adults began the short walk to the playground, Maria’s breath caught, and she stopped.
Claire slowed her steps, too. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. The last month or so can be pretty uncomfortable.”
Claire remembered. She stole another glance at Maria, who’d furrowed her brow and stroked her distended womb.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Claire asked.
“Yes. It’s just a cramp. It’ll pass.”
The toddler pulled her hand free of her mother’s and ran toward the playground. Apparently focused on the “little cramp” that made her breathe as though she was in labor, Maria let the girl go.
“How often have you been having those?”
“For several months, actually. Nothing regular. Just a painful twinge now and again.” Maria straightened. “Like I said, it’ll pass.”
One of these days, it wouldn’t. “When are you due?”
“In about six weeks.”
That was still considered too early. If it had been Claire, she would have been worried. But then again, Maria had been through this sort of thing twice already. She probably knew whether she should be concerned or not.
“Who’s going to help you when you have the baby?” Claire asked.
“I have a cousin who lives up in the Los Angeles area. She agreed to come down and stay with me for a few days. I’m supposed to give her a call when I go into labor.”
From what Claire had heard, second and third babies came a lot quicker than the first. And that was a long trip on short notice. She hoped this baby gave Maria fair warning.
Still, a woman needed someone to hold her hand through that sort of thing. A husband, a mother, a friend.
Claire could find fault in Ron for a lot of things, but he’d been a great expectant father. She remembered him standing beside the commode as she’d heaved and heaved each morning until the only thing left was that awful yellow bile. Then, afterward, he’d stood ready to wipe her brow with a cool, damp washcloth.
Ron had been as excited about the first heartbeat and the ultrasound image of Erik as Claire had been. And he’d stuck by her side all during labor. She didn’t know what she would have done without him.
Once they reached the playground, Maria pulled some plastic toys from one of the bags so her toddler could dig in the sand. While she did so, Claire turned to check on Analisa, who was no longer chatting with Trevor. Instead, she and Danny were making their way toward the playground, leaving Trevor to practice on his skateboard.
But instead of turning her attention to the child she was supposed to be watching, she couldn’t take her eyes off Trevor. There was an aura of sadness surrounding him, and it didn’t take a bleeding heart to sense it.
Maybe she ought to offer to drive him home again when it came time to leave. If she did, she might invite him over to play with Analisa. That way, she’d
get a chance to talk to his guardian, to meet the woman and learn more about the boy who was too young to be a loner.
So several hours later, while Maria rounded up her children to take them home, that’s exactly what Claire did.
If Trevor knew what she was really up to, he didn’t let on. Instead, he rode in the backseat next to Analisa.
“Has that big boy bothered you anymore lately?” she asked, as she turned onto Applewood.
“No. I’ve been going another way home. It takes longer, but I don’t care.”
The fact that he’d been avoiding the kid didn’t make Claire feel any better about his safety. “Promise me that you’ll give him the skateboard if he ever finds you alone and starts harassing you.”
“But it’s mine.”
“I realize that, and if you have to give it up, I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Really? How come?”
Because she felt sorry for him, that’s why. “Because I’d rather buy you a new skateboard than see you tangle with someone bigger than you.”
Trevor didn’t have an answer to that, so she let it drop while she maneuvered the car through the traffic on Main, took a right near Paddy’s Pub and headed toward the apartment complex where the boy lived.
“I hope your nanny lets you come over and play at my house,” Analisa said.
“She will. But Katie’s not a nanny. She’s my guardian.”
“What’s the difference?” Analisa asked.
Trevor paused for a moment, as though not entirely sure.
Claire could have easily jumped in and helped with the explanation, but she thought she might learn more about his home and his situation if she kept still.
“People pay a nanny to take care of you,” the boy said. “But your parents can always fire her and get you a new one.”
“And parents can’t fire a guardian?” Analisa asked.
“No. The court says guardians get to tell you what to do, and only the judge can change that.”
“What’s a judge?” Analisa asked.
“It’s a guy who wears a black robe.”
