“They’re all nice, Becky. That’s the sorry part of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean be careful, just be careful.”
Several hours later, after Becky finished her homework, she crawled into bed with her diary. She wrote slowly, as though trying to separate her thoughts into logical segments that could be dissected and examined later.
Dear Diary:
My parents know about Skip. And I’m not grounded or anything. I suppose I should be glad that everything is out in the open. But for some reason, I feel disappointed. Dad was really great about it. Said he understood. Said he expected it. Which makes me realize more than ever that guys know more about sex than girls do. The only thing he told me to do was to be careful, which he’s said before, so I was right all along. Dads know the ropes and just want to protect their daughters from disease and pregnancy. They really understand the whole sex thing. I guess I should feel proud of my dad for being so modern and understanding. I guess I should be grateful he’s not the old-fashioned buffoon I thought he was.
But I don’t feel that way at all. Strange isn’t it? I don’t feel pride or gratitude or even relief. I feel…I feel sort of disappointed. I feel…well, I feel angry and almost like I don’t like my dad very much right now. Silly isn’t it? Oh, why am I so silly? I’m going to college soon. How can someone so confused be going to college? I have to get my head on straight. I always thought I was so mature. Especially when compared to Paula or Kate or anyone of the other guys. But now I’m not so sure. I wish my daddy had been mad or told me something else, or…I don’t know what I wish.
4
DR. THOR EMERSON WALKED in circles cursing into the handheld phone.
“You better believe I’m serious! You’re fired! This is the second time in as many weeks that the temperature has dropped in the tank. I warned you last time. I told you the female is pregnant and the water must be a constant seventy-eight degrees.”
He stopped pacing and looked into the bubbling tank. Ribbons of seaweed swayed like drunken sailors around the sunken ship. The pair of Clowns swam among them, seemingly unaware of any temperature problem.
“How far off is it?”
“Right now it’s reading seventy-seven point six!”
“I swear, Dr. Emerson, I adjusted the heater before I left. That thermostat read seventy-eight degrees on the nose. Maybe it’s broken.”
Thor thought a moment. “If I change it and this happens again, you’re out. Understand?”
“Yes…absolutely. Thank you, Dr. Emerson.”
Thor saw the light flashing on the intercom. Without another word, he hung up, then punched the intercom button.
“What is it, Eleanor?”
“Flo Gardner on the phone, and she’s very upset.”
Thor groaned. Now what? “Okay, Eleanor, put her through…Flo? How’s my favorite OM?”
“I’d be a lot better if they weren’t here. They’re all over, Thor, poking into everything. I told you this would happen. I told you that if you didn’t get rid of—”
“Who’s there, Flo? Just calm down and tell me what’s going on.”
“The State Health Department, that’s who! They’re going over the place with white gloves. Why didn’t you tell me they were coming? You’ve always let me know ahead of time, so I could prepare.”
“I didn’t know.” With an almost savage jerk of the wrist, Thor picked up his Mont Blanc and began writing Newly over and over down the page of his planner.
“We’re really backed up today and haven’t been, well…we haven’t been exactly following the manual, if you know what I mean.”
“Any feedback? Anyone say anything?”
“Plenty, and none of it good. What do they expect? We can only do so much. How do they expect us to help these girls when there’s so many of them and to follow the book? They don’t understand the strain this clinic is under. They want everything to be paint-by-number. There’s only so much I can do with what I’ve got to work with. You know how Dr. Newly operates, no matter what I tell him about changing linens and giving us time to sterilize the instruments. I’ve told you about this, I’ve warned—”
“What exactly are they saying, Flo?” Thor began crossing out Newly’s name, one by one.
“They said they’re fining us and giving us a warning to come up to standard or cease all operating room procedures.”
Thor cursed into the phone. Why didn’t the Health Department warn me about this?
“Thor, did you hear what I said? They’re fining us and warning we must—”
“I heard, Flo. Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything. You just keep a lid on things. Keep the customers from panicking and going elsewhere, and keep Dr. Newly under control.”
“But what are we going to do? How are we going to cope with—”
“I said I’ll handle it. You just get back to your job. I’m counting on you to keep things together until I can come up with a solution.”
After he hung up, Thor walked over to his fish tank to recheck the temperature. Seventy-seven point six degrees. It had to be the thermostat because he had set it for eighty an hour ago and the temperature hadn’t budged one degree. He moved the large Ficus away from the window and noticed the dust on the leaves. I’ll have to notify the cleaning woman about that. Then he studied the sunlight that streamed through the window. Yes, that was better. The added sun would help warm the water. Tonight, he’d pick up that deluxe heater on the way home.
He began walking around the room. A massive mahogany desk was against the far wall. On the opposite wall was a leather couch and chair. The fish tank and Ficus stood against the window wall. The office was of considerable size, but the large furniture left floor space only in the center of the room. Thor paced on the plush carpeting, leaving a zigzag of footprints.
His office was located in the prestigious Rolston building in downtown Brockston. His command center, he called it, and from it he oversaw his six abortion clinics spread over a radius of a hundred miles. He was proud of what he had built. But lately, he hated the turn his life was taking. He looked at his prints on the carpet. He was like a dog chasing his tail—going nowhere. And I had better change things fast.
When Maggie looked up and saw the tall lean figure in the doorway, her heart leaped.
“Kirt! I hardly recognized you.”
Kirt laughed and threw back his head. He was dressed in khakis and a pale yellow cardigan. He had never come here before dressed in anything but a suit. He appeared boyish, carefree. Maggie watched him brush back his windswept hair with one hand. In the other, he held a bouquet of red roses.
“I see by the waiting room that the rats didn’t discourage anyone.”
“Can you believe it? More than fifty women have come through those doors in less than a week.”
Kirt pulled out one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her. “Then I think you might need this.”
Maggie buried her nose in the flower. “Thank you,” she said, breathing deeply and enjoying the fragrance.
“The rest I’ll put in a vase if you have one.”
Maggie walked to one of the cabinets and pulled open the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve decided to take a few days off.”
“Didn’t you just have a few days? It’s a good thing you have daddy’s law firm to fall back on, in case you get fired from this job.”
Kirt laughed, then slipped beside her and began rummaging in the cabinet beneath the bookshelves. He pulled out a green-tinted glass vase and shoved the roses into it.
“These cabinets look a lot like mine. Maybe this weekend you can come over to my apartment and help me clean them out?”
Maggie laughed. “Don’t hold your breath. Besides, you said you were going to hire someone to keep your apartment clean.”
“It doesn’t fit into my budget. An assemblyman’s salary is pretty dismal.”
“Well, if you’d stop taking me to places lik
e the Eagles’ Nest and stop buying me flowers, maybe you could afford a cleaning lady.”
“Nope. This is more fun.”
Maggie went to the watercooler, filled a paper cup, then poured it into the vase. She did this five times before the vase was filled. “At least when the session’s over, you’ll only have one apartment to support. And by then, your dad and brother will probably give you a nice raise because they’ll be so happy to have you back.”
“They won’t be the only ones, I hope.”
Maggie smiled and began arranging the flowers in the vase.
“Did the police ever catch the boys who delivered the rats?”
“No, and I don’t think there’s much chance of that happening,” Maggie said. “No one saw anything. At least, no one’s talking.”
Kirt walked over to her desk and glanced down at an article cut from a newspaper. He read it quickly. “So, Canon Edwards is getting out of jail.” He looked anxiously at Maggie. “Can you handle him?”
“I don’t think he’ll come around. But if he does, yes, I can handle him. I’ve done it before.”
Kirt nodded. “They say you were the only one who could talk to him after his wife died.”
Maggie’s finger brushed against a thorn and she flinched. “Canon went crazy after Patsy’s death. Maybe if he hadn’t been the one to find her like that, maybe if someone else had gotten to her first. But he didn’t let too many people into his circle after that.”
“I heard that he wrote liar all over the house with her blood. Is that true?”
“They found him on the floor next to her, holding her in his arms, blood everywhere. He just held her…crying. Tooley said he’d never seen so much blood.” Maggie shook her head. “It must’ve been awful. But it was only after the police took Patsy’s body away that he began dipping his fingers into the puddles and writing everywhere.”
“Why? Did he ever tell you?”
“He said they were all liars, the doctors and nurses at the clinic. That they had lied to Patsy…to him. They told them abortion was a simple procedure, nothing to worry about. Canon swears he’d never have encouraged Patsy to abort if he’d known. He blamed himself…still does. Even men can have post-abortion syndrome.”
Kirt’s eyebrows arched. “A lot of people say he’s always been dangerous, that he’s always had a screw loose.”
Maggie shrugged. “Even in grade school he was different…odd…maybe a little unstable. I guess he’s always marched to a different drummer.”
“I just don’t want him to hurt you—to hurt the clinic. I mean, everyone thinks he’s a pro-lifer.”
“Canon is driven by his personal demons, not by the pro-life movement.”
“That may be true, but they lump us all together.”
Maggie put her face close to the arrangement and inhaled. “Let me handle Canon.” When she looked up, there was a twinkle in her eyes. “Thank you for the beautiful flowers.” She began fussing with the vase again, knowing he was watching. She wondered if he was thinking about their last time together, after he had taken her home from the Eagles’ Nest and she had kissed him for the very first time. Not a passionate kiss, but short and sweet, and with something like a promise or a hope in it. But when she looked up, she could see it was not kisses he was thinking about. She watched him finger the newspaper clipping.
“I’ve tried to tell you before, Maggie, that I think Thor Emerson is connected, that he has mob connections. Did you ever think that maybe he’s the one responsible for the rats? I mean, you’ve been pretty hard on him, you and your picketers.” He put up his hand to stop her from speaking. “I know they aren’t your picketers, but in his mind you’re all one and the same. You and the Life Center represent, at the very least, a thorn in the side, and at the most, an outright threat. I’ve done what you’ve asked. The Health Department will and probably already has inspected his clinics, starting with the one in Brockston. But Maggie, be aware that Emerson is not a man who can be pushed. He’ll fight back. If he begins to think you’re a menace, he could get rough. Maybe even do something crazy like send you boxes of rats.”
Maggie began to laugh. “And I always thought you were so logical.”
“What?”
“Does it sound rational that a wealthy abortionist would hire a mobster who then hires two teenage boys to deliver boxes of rats to us? We’re just a small outfit, a little center. I’m more inclined to believe it was the angry boyfriend of a girl being counseled here. When you’re dealing with abortion, there’s all kinds of backlash.”
“Maybe…but consider taking some—”
The phone rang. Maggie made a mock sigh of relief, like the phone had spared her his lecture, and picked it up.
“Maggie Singer?” It was a strange, muffled voice.
“Yes.”
“Did you like my gift?”
“What gift?”
“Because if you did, I can send you more. I got an endless supply.”
“Who is this?”
“What’s wrong?” Kirt mouthed.
Maggie shook her head and waved him off. “Who is this?” she repeated.
“I’m just a friend with some friendly advice. Don’t make trouble. It ain’t healthy. You hear?”
“What kind of trouble? What are you talking about?”
“Look out your window.”
Maggie moved toward the window and peeked out into the side alley. She looked up and down, but saw no one. Then she noticed a large cardboard box under her window. The top was open and inside there appeared to be a pile of black fur. She strained to see through the screen and studied the box for several seconds, then gasped. The box was filled with rats, but this time they were all dead.
“The first time we was playing with you. This time we ain’t playing.”
“Who is this? What do you want?”
The phone went dead, and Maggie, with trembling hand, hung up. Kirt gently put his arms around her.
“Was this a threat, Maggie? Did someone threaten you?”
Maggie nodded, allowing him to hold her. “A strange sounding man. He said he wasn’t playing with me.”
“What does he want? Did he say?”
“No.”
“But you know, don’t you Maggie?”
Maggie separated herself from Kirt. “Yes,” she whispered, then moved to her desk and pulled two papers from under the paperweight. She handed them to her friend, and his face became hard with anger. All manner of obscene words were pasted on the first paper and at the very bottom, one sentence: “Get out of town.” The next page was filled with pictures of knives, guns, nooses, and words cut out to form two sentences: “You’re not wanted here. Close your Center and leave.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
Maggie shrugged. “When I got the first one, I didn’t think much about it. Like I told you, boyfriends can get bizarre sometimes when their girlfriends get talked out of an abortion. When I got the second one, I took it more seriously, but didn’t really know what I should do.”
“You should’ve told me, and then gone to the police.”
“I thought of that. But I didn’t want to worry you and didn’t want bad publicity for the Center.”
“And after the rats, Maggie, why didn’t you go then?”
“I…I don’t know. I was still thinking…hoping it was a teenage prank.”
“Well, we’re going to the police right now, both of us. We’ll show them these letters and tell them about that box under your window. But we have one thing to do first.” Kirt put both hands on her shoulders and began praying for protection and wisdom and guidance.
Skip pulled his black Mazda into a secluded spot, far from the other spots in Lover’s Cove. It was “their spot.” Skip had found it after Becky pleaded for more privacy. And it was perfect—a path big enough for only one car to squeeze through and surrounded by thick vegetation.
He turned to her and smiled. “Gosh, I wish we had the whole night together, l
ike we used to. Things seem so hectic now, with basketball and term papers and all. Seems like we hardly ever have time to spend together anymore.”
Becky nodded. He really was so sweet.
“You coming to the game?”
Becky nodded again.
“After the game, you want to go out with the guys? Hopefully it’ll be a victory celebration. We’ve just got to win. Can’t let this team beat us three years in a row. I think we have a real chance too. Their leading scorer is injured. And Tommy’s hot, really hot. Yesterday at practice, he was swishing threes all over the court. He’s the only one who—”
“We haven’t gone out in ages. It would be nice.”
Skip made a face. “You know how busy I’ve been, Becky. I’ve had to work really hard to pull up my grades, otherwise I can forget the basketball scholarship. And Tommy’s had a lot of problems with his dad. Should I tell him he can’t count on me when—”
“I’m not complaining, Skip. I just stated a fact.”
“We’re not going to fight about this again, are we?”
“Not unless you want to make a fight out of it.”
“okay, let’s just forget it. Okay?” Skip adjusted his legs. “Have you heard from Georgetown?”
Becky shook her head. “No, still wait-listed.”
“Bummer. But, hey, you have three other colleges to choose from. At least you’re set. If I don’t bring up my average, well…you know I can’t go to college unless I get this free ride. I need this scholarship.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“Not unless you want to write my term papers. Gosh, I’m really behind in one of them. You don’t think—”
“No. Don’t even say it. Cecil Gray just got expelled for selling term papers.”
“I feel so pressured! I can hardly wait for this year to be over. I wish I were smart like you, Becky. Everything comes so easy for you. You don’t have to work at things like I do.” Skip turned to the side window and sulked for a few seconds. Then he shoved his hand in his front pocket. “I gotta go soon. I don’t want to rush, but I promised coach.”
Tears in a Bottle Page 6
