What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 5)

by Cathryn Fox

  “Think what this could do to the rest of your life, Roxy,” Al pleaded.

  “It’s too late. The damage has been done. It was too late from the instant Don took his life. He probably didn’t even realize the toll of revenge he would extract from me with his suicide. But it’s been done all the same.”

  “With a little help from his mother.” Al sounded bitter. She felt touched by his obvious concern on her behalf and wondered if he would come through for her after all. She’d give him a chance. For now.

  “Al, you forget. I’m a big girl. If it was anyone’s doing, it was my own. It was my mistake to marry Don. I wanted to correct it—sure. But sometimes mistakes are impossible to make right. Don made sure of that in this case.” She paused and felt the last of her own bitterness escape her, leaving a measure of peace in its wake. “I can’t blame him,” she said finally. She felt sad, not for the first time. But this time it was more. She felt a true empathy for Don as emptiness struck her. She wasn’t surprised at the tears that streamed down her cheeks now.

  Laura walked in. Al ended the conversation, promising to meet her later at the police station. She hung up and swiped at her cheeks.

  “Roxy, I don’t know what to say. The police called. They’re coming here to question people in connection with Don’s death,” Laura said. She moved closer. “They’re calling it a possible murder.”

  Roxanne heard the warble in her friend’s voice. Laura plopped into the chair in front of her and put her hand to her face in an attempt to cover her tears. Roxanne jumped to her feet and went around the desk to hug her friend. I don’t deserve these wonderful friends.

  She clenched her jaw with determination to make up for her past. She needed to be cleared of the charges and she needed to behave beyond reproach. No more playing games.

  Especially not with Barry. She felt her heart thud heavily like her blood had turned to lead. Longing welled up and threatened to overtake her.

  She met Al at the police station at six p.m. that night. Detective Turner met them in the Marblehead Police Station lobby and escorted them to an office. The Detective sat down behind a desk and gestured for them to take the two visitor chairs. It was nothing like the noisy setup she’d seen on TV cop shows. The room was small with one window sporting drawn blinds and the rest of the walls covered with charts, a whiteboard, and bookshelves. Roxanne sat and crossed her legs. She waited for someone else to speak first while she did her best to maintain normal breathing.

  “Ms. Monet, where did you go when you left the party the night of Don’s death?”

  “I went home—which you know because you were there when I arrived.”

  “And before that?”

  She studied his face in case she missed something, but she had no clue what he meant. “I’m sorry…”

  “Never mind. Is there anyone who can attest to your whereabouts for the entire evening until you arrived home and met with me?”

  “Yes. Mark Baines. I already…”

  “We’ll need to speak with him again.” Turner pushed a paper and pen toward her. “Write down his name and contact information.”

  “Will that be all?” Al asked.

  “Not by a long shot. I want to know everything there is to know about Ms. Monet’s relationship with her husband in the weeks and months leading up to his death,” Turner said to Al. Then he looked at her.

  She stopped writing and let out a sigh. Al patted her arm. It would be a long night.

  The next day Roxanne went to a meeting with Harry, Laura and some other public relations and nursing staff who were involved in staging the Christmas party for the children at the hospital.

  Spread over the table in the conference room were various newspapers with Roxanne’s picture and headlines proclaiming her as the police’s number one murder suspect in her husband’s slaying. Roxanne tried in vain not to look at the papers.

  Harry spoke from the head of the table. “As you know, the hospital’s Board of Trustees has insisted on suspending Roxanne indefinitely due to the wonderful job our local media is doing in covering this so-called murder case.” He spread his hands indicating his disdain for the pile of papers. “Dr. Evans was particularly adamant about this point. Naturally the board also wants her to be excluded from the upcoming Christmas party event, but that would mean canceling the live broadcast. However, Roxanne, being the person she is, talked to the studio and they agreed to go ahead with the broadcast—with an alternate host.” Harry paused.

  Laura popped out of her seat.

  “The point of this meeting is that Roxanne should still be allowed to participate in the Christmas party, unofficially. At least she should be allowed to attend.”

  “What about Dr. Evans? Won’t he be upset by that? After all, it will be televised. Anyone who participates will be a direct reflection on the hospital,” a nurse said.

  Roxanne wasn’t used to being talked about like she was a stick of furniture. She felt her face heat with anger—although it could have been embarrassment. It took all the control she had not to shout a string of swears in that woman’s direction right that second. Laura responded for her.

  “May I remind you, all of you, that a person is innocent until proven guilty in this country? Is that a bunch of baloney that we all give lip service to? Aren’t we going to stand by Roxanne? She’s someone who has worked her butt off for this hospital for too long to throw her to the pack of jackals now.” Laura stared each down each person in the room. Roxanne felt an overwhelming urge to hug her friend, but settled for a pat on the back for the moment. Laura was turning out to have a lot more gumption than Roxanne had ever given her friend credit for. Pride swelled along with gratitude in a beautiful, head-spinning feeling.

  No one dared disagree with Laura. Harry wrapped up the meeting with the agreement that Roxanne would attend the Christmas party and continue to help prepare. There was an unspoken understanding that no one would mention this to Dr. Evans.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I STILL say we should have got Barry Dennis to play Santa Claus,” her producer, Hank Sillman, said. They stood next to one of the cameras being set up to shoot the party.

  “Dr. Oki will do a fabulous job. You’ll love him. I promise. Besides, if Barry played Santa then he wouldn’t be able to play himself, and these kids are among his biggest fans.” And he’d never have agreed to play Santa in a million years. Roxanne watched the kids assemble. The rush of adrenaline she got must have been from their contagious excitement. It was almost enough to erase the dread she felt weighing her down since the police began their murder investigation. She had to remind herself that her talk with the police had gone well. They seemed interested in the suicide story. And they hadn’t arrested her.

  “Shit. I never saw so many kids in wheelchairs,” Hank said under his breath.

  Roxanne looked at him. He had turned completely around to avoid seeing the kids. He fussed with some cables that didn’t need fussing.

  “Well I’ll be. You’re squeamish around these kids, aren’t you? But you didn’t realize it until now. You’ll have to join my friend Laura on kitchen duty. She finds it difficult too.”

  “Laura Howard? We issued her an elf outfit. Said she was going to be handing out gifts. Your Santa okayed it so we went along even though she wasn’t on your list.” He kept his gaze on her, away from the growing crowd of eager, sick children, she noticed. Then she realized what he said.

  “Laura? My Laura? That’s incredible. She hates this affair at least as much as I love it. She would make you look brave.” Beaming, Roxanne slapped Hank’s back.

  “Ah, give me a break, will ya. So I’m not as cold-blooded as you.”

  She laughed at his half-hearted accusation. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re seeing, Hank. I know what these kids look like to you. They’re young and innocent and suffering. And I know how that makes you feel. You think, why should that poor boy go without a leg at his tender age? And here I am in perfect health. And there
’s nothing I can do for him. That’s what you’re thinking. You’re feeling guilty and helpless and it’s tough to take. It’s tough to stare the pain in the eyes and look beyond it. But that’s what you have to do. Because you can help them. We all can, and believe it or not, they can still feel joy. Let me tell you, Hank, there’s nothing on this earth that’s ever given me more pleasure than helping to put the light of joy into the eyes of one of these kids. Nothing is better.”

  “Oh? Is that right?” Barry’s voice came up behind her and she turned. His half-smile bore a devilish slant so that she was sure Hank caught his innuendo.

  She laughed. Had she really been exaggerating? She surveyed the group and spotted Fred, the boy with a recently amputated leg. In spite of the lump in her throat, she watched until she found the light in his eyes as he spotted the huge bedecked Christmas tree.

  No. She decided she hadn’t exaggerated. “You ought to give it a try,” she told him as she licked her lips, wondering how he’d react.

  “I’ll give it my best shot.” He lowered his voice, “But it’ll be tough to beat some of my other experiences.” He pinned her with his eyes. Their laser blue intensity caught her with calculated precision like a specimen butterfly pinned to a board.

  She swallowed. Why did everything he say sound like a challenge to her?

  “Before you two get kinky here, I’m leaving. It’s not all that bad,” Hank said waving his hand over the crowd of children. But Roxanne saw that the moment his eyes rested on a single child, he turned away and walked off.

  She glanced back at Barry. He watched the crowd of children, nurses, and parents, his face unreadable. She’d seen how he’d been with Lindy. It had been difficult for him, but he was made of steel. Most parents push past that first startling feeling of pain to search for the hope. He’d done well to see the hope beyond Lindy’s suffering.

  This was a tougher test. The sheer numbers of these kids could overwhelm a person. Roxanne remembered her first Christmas party. The agony of it was fresh in her mind. But then it was the first Christmas in years that she’d found any joy at all. It had been as wonderful as it had been sad.

  It was better than being alone.

  “Cue me when it’s time to start. I’m going to go have a butt. By the way, you look adorable in that getup.” Barry winked at her, then turned and headed for the makeshift kitchen in the nearby nurses’ lounge.

  Someone must have turned up the Christmas music to be heard over the excited din of the children. Roxanne smiled at the scene as she hummed along. There was not one self-pitying youngster among them. They were as happy as any bunch of kids at Christmas. No, happier.

  It was time for the on-air introduction of the party and Roxanne had to force herself to stay out of the line of the camera while the man-woman team they had lined up to replace her did their jobs. Santa and his elves were scheduled to arrive shortly. Santa would read a note from one of the kids who wanted to meet Barry Dennis for his Christmas present. That’s when they’d bring him in.

  She flushed with excitement as Santa told the tall young boy that he would get his wish. Two elves went through the door back stage and, one on each side, escorted a ribboned and bowed Barry Dennis out into the group of children to stand towering before the boy.

  Roxanne watched with the TV audience as Barry shook the boy’s good hand. His other was wrapped in a sling at his side. If she was smart she wouldn’t have looked close enough to notice the fingers missing. But her eyes automatically searched out the defect she knew would be there. There was no stopping the unbearable pang. Until she saw the boy’s face as Barry talked to him about basketball, even challenging him to a one-on-one when he got out.

  This surprised her and the boy too. He only hesitated a second before nodding his acceptance. Barry then proceeded to assist in the handing out of the rest of the gifts while the host and hostess interviewed some children, doctors and parents. Last for the show came the brief interview with Barry where he plugged the fund and announced the number to call for pledges. It fell just shy of a benefit telethon and wasn’t quite a documentary. It pleased Roxanne to think the show was its own unique brand of journalism.

  The cameras were being rolled out after the wrap-up and it was time for her to join the kids, who were now being served cake and cookies and juice and milk. She walked toward Michael, the boy with the amputated leg. His mother and father stood with him, fussing over his snack.

  “Hey Mike, how come you didn’t ask for an autographed basketball?” Roxanne asked, smiling. His parents nearly gasped.

  “Don’t have much use for a basketball anymore.” He tried a smile and looked down.

  “Sure you do. You still have your hands don’t you? Wait right here.” Roxanne winked and left him as his mother was about to protest. But there was no way she would be deterred from her mission. She’d asked the nurses if there were any kids that needed a little extra help with a positive attitude and Michael’s name came up more than once. He’d been a little too resigned to his condition and wasn’t responding as he should in PT.

  After retrieving a specially wrapped box from its hiding spot in a closet, Roxanne stepped up to Barry and commanded his attention away from a group of small boys with adoring eyes. She smiled at them then whispered in Barry’s ear. “Can you do me a favor?”

  He looked at her with sudden anticipation in his grin and she had to laugh.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “It’s not what you think. Come with me.” She led him in the direction of Michael, but they stopped before they reached him. Roxanne watched his mother remove the plate of uneaten cake from his lap.

  “Will you call to him and toss him this present?” Roxanne looked up at Barry. He hesitated a second before nodding his head and allowing the one-sided grin to show.

  “Yo,” he called to the boy who looked up in time to catch the package as it sailed straight toward his lap. Roxanne’s chest pounded at the incredulous look on the boy’s face. She grabbed Barry’s arm and dragged him over to talk.

  “That was a good catch. Considering.” Roxanne gave Mike another wink. He almost smiled in return. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  “I guess so.” He looked up at Barry.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Barry, this is Mike. He used to be a Celtics fan…”

  “I still am!” Mike blurted out as Barry put out his hand to shake. Roxanne noticed the boy’s parents staring and introduced them.

  “Well, open it,” Barry finally prompted Mike to rip open the package. There was a basketball underneath it all—not a new one. Roxanne had retrieved this one from the Celtics ball boy after a game and had all the team members and coaches sign it. Now she was taking great pleasure in watching Mike’s mouth agape with astonishment as he inspected the ball. His mouth slowly curved to form the brightest smile she’d ever seen on the young boy’s face. He looked up at Barry with adoration. Roxanne could see the immediate emotion it triggered in Barry’s eyes.

  “It’s all her doing, Mike.” Barry pointed at Roxanne. “All I do is play the game. Roxanne is the one who mends children’s hearts. What do you think? Is she doing a good job?” Barry looked at her as Mike and his parents chorused their gratitude at her thoughtfulness.

  “I couldn’t very well have a basketball hoop put in your room without giving you a ball to throw through it, now could I?” She couldn’t resist mentioning the second part of her surprise. She’d talked his doctors and nurses into it only because they’d been desperate to try anything to help his poor performance in PT.

  “No? You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. I’m serious. Go see for yourself.” With that, he insisted his parents take him to try it out and Barry promised to come by sometime and try it out too.

  “You realize, of course, that you’re going to have to visit him now and make good on your promise?” Roxanne told Barry as soon as Mike was out of earshot. This was the second commitment she’d heard him make to the kids tonight.


  “I know. I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.”

  “That’s why you don’t make promises.”

  “Not often.”

  “Until tonight. Let’s go see Lindy now,” she said.

  He frowned at her. “You don’t have to come with me,” he said. But the way he looked at her, it seemed like he wanted her there even though he knew it was his responsibility. She scoffed at herself for trying to read too much into that one look. But he so rarely gave anything away that the temptation was too great.

  “Of course I will. Al’s not here and there won’t be any media lurking around her room. I promise I won’t get you in trouble. The party’s under control here. I’ll come back later to help clean up. Besides, I have a gift for her.” Her nerves suddenly shook her as she thought of the gift. She was taking a big chance. She chewed her lip as they rode the elevator up. She coached herself to get past whatever Barry and Lindy’s initial reactions were—because they were bound to be bad. She knew it would be worth it in the long run.

  In fact, as they stepped into the hall and headed toward Lindy’s room, Roxanne became convinced that the little girl would treasure this gift for a long time.

  “Daddy!” Lindy straightened when they walked in the room. He fought the inward recoiling he felt when she called him that. His reaction seemed to have gotten far worse these days. Now that his responsibilities as her dad had grown more real. Fatherhood was no longer a notion that loomed on the periphery of his world. It had intruded with a full vengeance on his consciousness. He had to work hard to quell his defenses against the assault.

  He smiled. She gave him such an eager bright grin in return, his mind eased. “How are you, angel? We missed you at the party.” He walked to the plastic tent that separated them and put his arm into the rubber glove that allowed him to pat her head and stroke her long light hair. The desire to hug her right then squeezed his chest tight. He touched her shoulder. His guilt must be getting the better of him.