by Blythe Baker
I needed to run a few more errands, but my stomach was growling. I wouldn’t head over to Billy’s for dinner until later in the evening, so I decided to go to the diner and grab a bite to stave off my hunger.
The diner still had a handful of old stools at the counter which were popular at lunchtime. It was still early – not quite eleven. I had gotten up on farm time though, after all, and was famished. I sat down at one of the little stools, and Sherrie Selby waited on me. She hadn’t exactly greeted me with open arms when I first came back to town. It seemed she had set her sights on Billy as a romantic interest for a while, and she had been jealous of our close friendship. Since I’d been home, though, she had moved on and now we got along well.
“Hi, Emma,” she said as she set down a menu. “What ya havin’ today?”
“Hi, Sherrie. Can I get a house salad with light dressing?” I smiled.
“Oh, right! Wedding tomorrow, huh? How’s Suzy doin’? Gettin’ nervous?” she asked, jotting my order down on a ticket and turning just enough to hang it on an ancient order wheel in the kitchen window that squeaked as she spun it around to face the cooks.
I chuckled. “Well, I think she’s glad that the big day is almost here. In fact, I’m kind of glad too. I never realized how much work a wedding can be – even when it’s not your own.”
I sat for a few minutes, flipping through my phone as I waited for my salad to arrive. I suddenly heard someone behind me complaining to Sherrie. I glanced around to see Ambrose Snodgrass at the table behind me.
“I didn’t ask for French fries. You’re the one who brought them. How am I supposed to know they were extra? If this place is going to start trying to rip off a blind man, what won’t you do? It’s despicable!” I heard him say.
“Mr. Snodgrass, you asked for them. I told you they were…” Sherrie started to argue, and he cut her off.
“No, no, no!” He smacked his hand hard against surface of the table. “I’m a poor old blind man, and you try to take advantage of me! It’s not right!”
“Okay, okay!” Sherrie relented. “I’ll go adjust the bill.”
I turned back to see him smirking in response.
Hmpf. Maybe he’s not a sweet old man after all.
After he settled his bill and left, Sherrie brought my salad over.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, thanks,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Some of these folks practically make it a sport to get one over on the restaurant. What they don’t know, or maybe don’t care about is that all that counts against us, too.” Sherrie shrugged. “But, what are you gonna do, ya know?”
I felt bad for Sherrie and left her a generous tip after finishing my small salad. I thought I had better stop by Suzy’s and check on her, so I drove over to her house.
She didn’t answer the door when I knocked, so I tried her cell, and there was no answer. I stepped back from the front door, and her SUV was still parked out front. I walked around the side of the house and peered over the wood slatted fence. No sign of Suzy. Walking back to the front door, I knocked again and still no answer. The door was unlocked, so I opened it just a crack and called out. “Suzy? It’s Emma! Are you home?” Nothing.
I stepped inside the house and looked in the kitchen, and the dining room, where all the wedding planning supplies were still set up, along with a couple of wrapped gifts that must’ve been sent from out-of-town family members who couldn’t attend.
All was quiet in the living room, so I walked upstairs to the bedroom. The bedroom door was standing open, and there she was, lying on the bed, hands folded on her belly, lying perfectly still.
Suzy! I was instantly terrified that something had happened to her. I rushed in, and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Suz! Talk to me!” I said shaking her.
Suzy’s eyes flew open wide, and she began flailing her arms around. She startled me, and I stepped back, stumbling, and fell back, landing firmly on my backside with a thud.
“Sugar!” I exclaimed when my butt hit the floor. “Are you okay?” I asked her.
“Emma! You scared the fire out of me!” she said, sitting up and plucking earbuds from her ears.
I laughed. “I scared you? You scared me! I called, and I’ve been knocking and calling out. Why didn’t you answer?”
Suzy giggled. “It’s so silly,” she said. “I was downstairs, going through some last-minute details, and all I could think about was what could go wrong. What if the flowers are all wrong? It’ supposed to be warm tomorrow – what if the air conditioning goes out in the church? What if Aunt Deirdre has too much champagne and tries to get people to do the Macarena like she did at cousin Jocelyn’s wedding?” She sighed, swinging her feet around so that they hung from the side of the bed. “I was getting really stressed about everything, and so I started looking up relaxation techniques. I found an app that lets you do a focused, uninterrupted meditation. I downloaded it, and popped in my earbuds to listen to it, and I must have dozed off!”
We went downstairs, laughing, and sat at the kitchen island to drink a glass of tea. “I get that you’re worried, but really, when you really get down to it, what is tomorrow about?” I asked.
“It’s about marrying Brian. It’s about us both standing up and saying we want to be together forever,” she said, smiling.
“Right. The important thing is you and Brian, promising yourselves to each other. The rest is just details.”
Suzy leapt forward and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tight. “You’re right, Emma! You’re so right! I feel so much better. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. Besides, maid of honor here, just doing my job,” I replied.
“So, on to a more serious topic, I guess,” she said. “Have you heard anything else about Prudence?”
“I’m afraid not. Billy said she’s about the same,” I replied, shaking my head. “I don’t know, Suzy, the more I think about it, it just doesn’t add up. I don’t think she would have done anything to hurt herself. I am starting to think maybe someone was trying to hurt her.”
“Really? I mean, I guess it’s possible,” Suzy replied. “I feel so bad for her, but if someone hurt her on purpose, that’s even worse somehow.”
Chapter 13
I still had a lot to do that afternoon, but decided, after talking to Suzy and starting to feel even worse for Prudence myself, that I would run by the hospital to check on her. If nothing else, I was sure Margene would be there and she could probably use the break from sitting by Prudence’s bedside.
The hospital was right off of State Route 43, and serviced Hillbilly Hollow, and some of the neighboring, smaller towns, as well as serving as a central health care facility for people in most other parts of the county. Though the hospital was small, there were often both newly licensed and experienced doctors in rotation at the facility as part of their long-term obligation to their parent company, so the care was generally very good.
After navigating the twists and turns of the parking structure, I went inside and saw the woman behind the information desk for Prudence’s room number. Typically, such information was not freely given, but the receptionist on duty was Lauren Selby, Sherrie’s cousin, and had known me since she was in grade school.
“4123, Emma. Ms. Margene’s up there with her now,” Lauren said when I inquired after the room number.
“Thanks, Lauren. Really nice seeing you, though I wish the circumstances were better.” I gave her a friendly look that was just short of a smile and went to the bank of elevators to find the right floor. Prudence was in a wing of the hospital reserved for people who needed special care. This was in part, I was certain, because of the coma, but also in part, I suspected, because she had come in as a suicide attempt.
I walked down the long corridor, the pungent scent of antiseptic wafting through the air. Prudence’s room was about a third of the way down the first corridor I came to, on the left. When I walked through the doorway, I heard the terrible symphony
of machines that was keeping Prudence tethered to life. Margene Huffler was sitting at her bedside, her elbows on the edge of the bed, and her head bowed down low, over her hands. It took me a minute to determine if she was praying or resting her head there, but after observing her, it appeared to be the latter.
I lightly rapped the edge of the doorframe. “Ms. Margene? Can I come in?” I asked. She whipped her head around, seeming surprised that someone was there.
“Emma? Yes, come in!” she said, standing, and looking at me with a mixture of surprise, appreciation, and confusion.
I walked in slowly, gazing around the room as I did. There were a few flower arrangements there, placed on a table near a fairly large window. Margene had opened the shades, allowing a stream of bright sunlight to come flooding in. It was a private room, which was nice in that it allowed Margene to spend time with her daughter without the distraction of other patients’ family members coming in and out.
“Do come in, honey, and have a seat,” she urged me again.
I walked to the foot of Prudence’s bed and looked down on her. She was not clad in the pajamas I had seen when she had visited me, but of course that had been days before. I spotted a large white bag with plastic writing that read patient belongings on a shelf, and imagined her personal clothing was there.
“Hi, Ms. Huffler,” I said when Margene stepped forward to hug me. “I was just so sorry to hear about Prudence,” I said.
“Thank you, dear. I just – I don’t have any idea what happened. She was such a happy girl.” I had put my hands on the foot rail of the bed as I looked Prudence over, and Margene patted my hand. “So full of life and gratitude. Now…I just don’t know what’s going to happen to her.” She shook her head, and tears began to fill her eyes. I put a hand on her arm to try to give some semblance of comfort.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Since they first brought her in, for the most part,” she replied. “Your grandma came by, with Rose and Ethel. They sat with her for a while yesterday while I ran home to get some fresh clothes. I just keep thinking…you know, something could change, and I want to be here when she wakes up. I don’t want her to be alone.”
Margene’s pale blue eyes were rimmed with pink, and she had a look of desperation about her. I had lost my parents as a small child – both at one time in a fatal car accident. I lashed out with anger and a complete lack of understanding as to how this could have happened to me – to our little family. As I got older, I sometimes thought of what it must have been like for my grandparents to lose them at a relatively young age. They never spoke about it, but little things, like the mark my father had carved in the support beam of the barn still being there, and the way my Grandma had talked about Mom wearing great-grandmother’s jewelry at her wedding, told me that the wound was still fresh for them too.
“Who else has been by?” I asked.
“Well, Dr. Will has been a few times, and he calls to check on her every day. Pastor Danny has been by, of course.” She said it as if the days had run together, and she was trying to recall who had been by, and when.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay for too long, but why don’t you go down to the cafeteria – at least get some coffee or a bite to eat. I’ll sit with her for a bit.” I nodded encouragingly.
“Well, I…I mean, if it’s not too much trouble,” she replied, “then that would be lovely, thank you. I’ll be back directly.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.
As I looked around, I was hopeful that Prudence wouldn’t crash again, and make her spirit-self visible to me as she had done before. Fortunately, the machines that were monitoring her heart rate and feeding her fluids just kept beeping rhythmically.
I walked over to the flowers to see if they held any clues to her mysterious condition. I saw the arrangement from church, which was a modest spray of lilies and hydrangeas in a small cream vase with a cross on the front. The little arrangement I had sent was next to it, and beyond that was a large bouquet of assorted flowers which included some white roses.
As I looked at the arrangement, I could see a small card that had slipped between the plastic sleeve and the vase itself. I wondered if Margene had even noticed it, as it looked undisturbed. I pulled the note out and opened the card. It read simply, “I’m sorry.” There was no signature but I wondered if these could be the flowers that were sent by Peter Snipes. If so, were the words “I’m sorry” a simple expression of sympathy or did they have some more sinister meaning? Exactly what might Snipes have to apologize for?
I poked around a little more, trying to balance my need to find clues to help Prudence with her need for privacy, but found nothing that shed any light on how Prudence got to her current state. I walked over to the side of the bed, and patted Prudence lightly on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I told her. “I’m trying, but I still don’t know who put you here.”
Margene re-appeared a few minutes later with a paper cup of coffee in one hand and a plastic clamshell container that held a piece of pie in the other. She glanced lovingly down at Prudence as she passed her, taking her previous place in the chair beside the bed.
“Thank you, Emma, for sitting with her,” she said.
I stood and picked up my bag. “My pleasure, Ms. Huffler. I was happy to do it. Again, I’m just so sorry she’s going through this. I’ll be hoping to hear some good news soon,” I said, waving goodbye as I stepped out into the corridor.
I headed back to town, needing to stop by Kipling’s Jewelers to pick up the gift I was having made for Suzy. As I made my way through town, Main Street was blocked off just south of the little shopping center where the store was located. I pulled up to where Tucker had his car across the road, with his lights on. He stood in the street, diverting cars around the block. As I approached him, I rolled down my window.
“Hi, Tucker,” I said. “Everything okay?”
“Hi, Emma,” he answered. “Yeah, just a problem with the hydrant. Charles Phillips had a little mishap – swerved to avoid a ball that had bounced into the street from some kids playin’ at one of the houses over there,” he motioned to the houses across the street, “and when he swerved, he clipped the hydrant. Waitin’ for the fire department to come shut it down.”
“Oh, I see,” I said. “At least nobody got hurt.”
“Yep. You doin’ alright?”
“Good thanks. Just came from the hospital – checking on Prudence. No change, I’m afraid,” I offered.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied
I followed the detour around the back of the building, and along a small corridor that paralleled that stretch of Main Street. As I made my way along, I noticed someone leaned over into the dumpster behind the furniture store. The figure was looking into the dumpster and seemed to be choosing from several items inside before pulling small pieces of unfinished furniture from the dumpster and stacking them aside. With no one behind me, I pulled in to a space behind the building at the very end of the strip and continued watching the figure in my mirror.
Strangely enough, I had seen exactly this type of thing regularly in New York. There, with limited space and a high cost of living, people often lived by the mantra of one man’s trash being another man’s treasure. As I watched the person at the dumpster finish stacking up their finds and pick up several pieces to carry them back to wherever they came from, though, I saw that they also had some sort of stick in their hand. As I continued to observe the scene, I realized the person I had been watching was none other than Ambrose Snodgrass.
Ambrose was an older man and had been rendered blind thanks to an illness several years before. I had heard that he could just make out some large shapes and movement, but had no ability to see colors or details. But the person before me, walking with a chair, a stool, and a small side table in his hands as he made his way up the street was certainly not the helpless, weak old man that he had portrayed himself to be. Earlier, in the diner, I had seen him treat Sherrie v
ery badly over paying for a side that cost an extra dollar, citing his handicap as a reason for her not to take advantage of him. The man before me was in perhaps better shape than I was at less than half his age.
According to the diary entries I had read, Ambrose had been a sort of rival to Prudence, vying for the Music Director job at the church. I had initially thought there could be no way that a quiet old man, let alone one who could barely see at all, could do any harm to anyone. Now, I was starting to rethink that theory.
I sat in my car for a moment, considering all I had learned about Prudence’s life, and those who could want to hurt her. Ambrose was now a strong possibility on my list. With Prudence the obvious choice for Music Director, having played the organ at church for many years and being so well engrained in the church’s activities, he may have wanted to get the competition out of the way.
Earlier, I was surprised to hear Cindy Green talk about Prudence as if she were some man-stealing hussy. Granted, everyone knew that Prudence had been crazy about Preacher Jacob, and I had even heard that she had professed her love for him before his untimely demise. Still, she hardly seemed like the type to use her feminine wiles to lure a man away from his long-time girlfriend. She typically wore button-up blouses that were closed all the way up to the neck, conservative cardigans, and long skirts with tights or hose underneath. Even at the church’s fundraising picnic, she had worn a pair of impossibly high-waisted jeans with a long-sleeved button-up shirt under her themed t-shirt depicting the name of Mt. Olivet. She was a dark horse as a man-stealer.
Still, I had seen Prudence happily trying on wedding dresses, and found a beautiful, large, and very clearly expensive engagement ring hidden in her house. If she were engaged, though, why keep it under wraps? After so many years of being single, and the pain and embarrassment of her unrequited love for Preacher Jacob, why not announce her happiness to the world?
