Vengeance Is Mine

by Joanne Fluke

  Diane had accused him of being old-fashioned. Most of the young couples they knew had to ask their families for help when they bought a house. Diane’s parents were willing to give them the down payment on a real showplace in Edina. There was even room for a live-in maid.

  Steve had argued until Diane was in tears. They didn’t need a maid. They couldn’t afford one on his salary anyway. And he still felt that it was a man’s duty to support his wife.

  Diane’s complaints grew. It was boring for her to sit in the apartment all weekend, watching him study for his promotion. They never went out to the expensive restaurants she liked. There wasn’t enough money in the budget for the designer clothes she absolutely had to have if she wanted to hold up her head in public.

  It was clear that Diane missed the life she had left. She craved glamour and excitement. And she’d finally gotten it. Three months after the divorce she had married an international gem broker. He was twenty years older than Steve. As far as he knew, the guy was honest, but Steve harbored a secret fantasy of busting Diane’s new husband for diamond smuggling.

  For a moment Steve tried to imagine what it would be like with Michele. Would she understand if he had to work on the weekends? Or would she become disillusioned, as Diane had, and leave him for someone with lots of money and a less demanding schedule?

  Steve gave up the effort. There was no use trying to second-guess what Michele would do. He simply didn’t know her that well. And he’d never get to know her if he didn’t ask her out pretty soon. Before he could change his mind, Steve picked up the phone and punched out Michele’s number.

  “Michele? This is Steve. Would you like to go down to the Sunwood for a drink after the meeting tonight?”

  There was a big smile on Steve’s face as he hung up the phone. It certainly hadn’t taken Michele long to say yes. It almost sounded as if she’d been waiting for him to ask her.

  His coffee was cold. Steve took a swallow anyway. Then he opened Ray Perini’s file and got back to work.

  She had a date with Steve Radke tonight. Michele grinned as she put down the phone, Of course, it was only for a drink, and it might be strictly business, but Michele was excited anyway. Carol Berg had been singing Steve’s praises for the past eight months. She made a point of telling Michele that Steve didn’t hang out in bars, and she knew he was definitely divorced. He’d gone to Carol’s house for dinner at least four times, and he seemed to enjoy playing with the kids. He’d even taken Carol and Jim out a couple of times, and that meant he was no cheapskate. Carol claimed Steve was the most eligible man in town, and she’d done her best to play matchmaker. Carol Berg had a lot in common with Michele’s mother.

  Michele’s intercom buzzed. Donna Voelker, the clinic secretary, sounded amused.

  “Michele? Your mother’s on line two. Do you want me to buzz you in ten minutes and say you have another call?”

  “Good idea, Donna.” Michele grabbed a fresh cup of coffee from the pot next to her desk and took a sip. Conversations with her mother always lasted through at least two cups of coffee.

  “Hi, Mom. How’s the weather in Houston? Aunt Frannie? Sure I remember her. You tell her I said she made the best molasses cookies I ever tasted.”

  Michele reached in her center desk drawer and took out the scratch pad she kept for her mother’s calls. She picked up a pencil and drew flower petals in the middle of the page, with a squiggly stem and leaves.

  “The roses are blooming already, Mom? That’s wonderful.”

  Michele moved to a blank spot and drew a circle with two pointed triangles on top. She added six smaller circles with smaller triangles.

  “Six kittens! I’ll bet Calico’s proud.”

  Michele listened for a moment and drew a heavy X through one of the smaller circles.

  “Mrs. Baines took one? That’s good, Mom. She’s got a big backyard.”

  Michele started to draw again, a long-stemmed glass with an olive in it.

  “So how was the country club party? Did you see any of my friends there?”

  Michele started to draw a platter of hors d’oeuvres, but she stopped abruptly.

  “Dereck? I don’t want to hear about it, Mom. No, I couldn’t care less. So what if his new wife’s pregnant?”

  Michele drew a tree with a low, sturdy branch. She added a man on a horse with a hangman’s noose wrapped around his neck.

  “I told you why we couldn’t have children. I was working full-time to put Dereck through medical school. No, I don’t think a baby would have kept us together, Mom. Dereck knew what he wanted. He married into one of the biggest practices in Houston. Her father owns the whole clinic.”

  Michele’s lips tightened as she crumpled up the paper. She threw it toward the wastebasket and scowled when she missed.

  “I know it’s been three years, Mom. You’re right. I’m not getting any younger. I just haven’t met anybody I want to marry.”

  Michele’s hands were shaking as she lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. Why wasn’t Donna buzzing her? She must have been on the phone for at least thirty minutes!

  Just as she was about to interrupt her mother’s monologue, the buzzer sounded. Michele breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Sorry, Mom. My secretary’s buzzing me. I’ve got a patient waiting. Yes, Mom, I love you too.”

  Michele put down the phone and got up to retrieve the ball of paper. She was twenty-eight years old, but every time she talked to her mother, she felt like a disobedient child. Her mother wanted a respectable married daughter and grandchildren she could visit. She seemed to think it was Michele’s duty to propagate the family line.

  The sun was in her eyes. Michele stretched up to her full height and attempted to adjust the blue miniblinds she had installed on her office window. The pull cord didn’t seem to be working right, and the room was bathed in stripes of sunlight and shadow. Perhaps she should have read the instructions after all.

  The Pro Choice Clinic was on the ground floor of the old Federal Building, right next to the St. Cloud Beauty College. The front part of the space had been Rick Nolan’s headquarters. The huge plate-glass window facing St. Germain Street was uncurtained. Perhaps Congressman Nolan had encouraged public scrutiny, but Michele found the exposure disconcerting. Her first act as administrator was to tape poster board to the bottom half of the window and put in an order for miniblinds.

  The space in the rear was perfect. It contained two examining rooms, a tiny but efficient lab, and a large waiting room. It was Dr. Sampson’s former office. Bruce had moved to larger quarters in Doctors’ Park last year.

  Michele jerked on the cord, and it broke off in her hand. She should have known better than to tackle the job herself. Anything that had the words E-Z Installation on the box was a job for a professional. Now she’d have to dig through the wastebasket for the instructions and spend another night trying to fix the blinds.

  “You’d better adjust those miniblinds, Michele. The way that sun’s coming in, you look like a zebra.”

  Louise Gladke grinned as she bustled into Michele’s office and plunked a file on her desk. Even though she was dressed in street clothing, there was no doubt that Louise was a nurse. Her white orthopedic shoes gave her away.

  “Cindy’s test results are in. I let her stay in the small examination room while she was waiting. The poor girl was so nervous she started to cry.”

  Michele sighed as she flipped open the file and looked at the results. Teenage pregnancy was always traumatic, especially when the girl was as young as Cindy. For a moment Michele almost asked Louise to take over on this one. Cindy was Dale Kline’s daughter.

  Dale had been Michele’s first date in St. Cloud. She’d met him when he drew up the charter for the clinic.

  The meal had been the only good thing about the evening. They’d driven out to the Persian Supper Club for prime rib. The trouble had started in the piano bar after the dinner. Dale had finished off four double Scotches while Michele toyed with her
snifter of Tia Maria. On their way out to the parking lot Dale had warned her that he didn’t ask a woman out for a second date unless she put out on the first.

  Michele had thanked him graciously for dinner, turned on her heel, and gone back into the restaurant to call a taxi. It was the first time in her life that she’d needed the twenty-dollar bill her mother had insisted she tuck into her purse whenever she went out for the evening.

  “Do you want me to take this one, Michele?” Louise was still standing by the desk. “I know how you feel about Dale Kline.”

  “No, that’s all right. Bring Cindy to my office, Louise. And make sure she doesn’t have to go through the waiting room. She’s probably afraid someone will recognize her and tell Dale.”

  In a moment there was a soft knock and the door opened. Michele was glad to see that Louise had her arm around Cindy. Louise’s mother-hen instinct was one of the main reasons Michele had chosen her for the job.

  “Hi, Cindy.” Michele smiled warmly. “Let’s sit over here where we can be comfortable.”

  She led Cindy to the two overstuffed chairs that were part of a conversational grouping at the far end of the office. The area was designed to set young patients at ease. Michele knew that facing an adult behind a desk was always intimidating, especially for a young teenager.

  “Your test is positive, Cindy.” Michele found it was helpful to get right to the point in pregnancy cases. Sometimes hearing the worst is almost a relief.

  “According to the information you gave Louise, you’re approximately six weeks pregnant. In a way that’s good news. It means you have several options. I’ll tell you about them, and then you can think about which one is best for you.”

  Cindy’s lower lip trembled. “I—I was hoping my period was just late.”

  A tear rolled down Cindy’s cheek, and Michele handed her a box of tissues. “I’ll go get us a couple of Cokes. Then we can talk.”

  As Michele walked down the hall to the small refrigerator in the conference room, she mentally reviewed Cindy’s file. Cindy was fifteen, the only child of a broken marriage. Vera Kline was remarried and lived in Wisconsin with her new husband. She hadn’t contested Dale’s suit for custody, and Cindy had visited her mother only once in the four years since the divorce. Cindy had told Louise that her mother didn’t seem interested in her.

  Michele opened the refrigerator door and took out two Cokes, diet for her and regular for Cindy. Louise had made a personal note on Cindy’s file. The Klines were regular churchgoers. That meant Michele had to be cautious about discussing abortion. The Pro Choice Clinic was a real thorn in the side of the clergy.

  By the time Michele returned, Cindy looked much calmer. She had stopped crying, and she looked composed and determined.

  “I have to get an abortion, Miss Layton. And nobody can know about it. Especially my dad.”

  “That’s one option.” Michele nodded. “Do you think your boyfriend will be able to help you financially?”

  Cindy shuddered. “I—I can’t tell him. He wouldn’t help anyway. There’s no way.”

  “That’s up to you, Cindy.” Michele nodded again. “But before we start talking seriously about abortion, I want to tell you about some other alternatives. Will you just listen and try to keep an open mind?”

  Cindy nodded. Her lips were set in a stubborn line, and Michele knew she was wasting her time, but she had a duty to explore all the options with her patients.

  “There’s an excellent boarding facility in southern Minnesota. It accepts pregnant girls from thirteen to eighteen and has a staff of accredited teachers. You could have your baby and give it up for adoption without missing any time in school.”

  “No.” Cindy was adamant.

  “How about talking to your father, then? I’ll be glad to help you with that. He might be a lot more supportive than you think he’ll be.”

  “You don’t understand.” Cindy took a deep breath and gripped the arms of her chair. “I can’t talk to my dad. He’s the one that got me pregnant.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Sister Kate arranged an assortment of cookies on a silver platter and poured steaming water into the teapot to warm it. The coffee was already perking, and the aroma made her feel a little less tired. This had been a long afternoon. Poor Gustie was still upset over the pope’s refusal to ordain women in the church as priests. She had told Sister Kate that she’d always dreamed of being a father. And Major Pietre had moved all his furniture in front of his bedroom door as a barricade against the Communists. It had taken her forty-five minutes to talk him into moving it back again. Monsignor Wickes had just started to give his Ferrari a second coat of paint when Father Murphy dropped a glass in the connecting bathroom. Now there was a large splotch of candy-apple red enamel on the rug that would never come out. And then, in the midst of the chaos, the archbishop had arrived. Thank goodness Bishop Donahue had diverted him with a game of chess.

  “Sister Kate? I’m sorry to interrupt, but I really must speak to you about something very confidential.”

  Mother Superior stood in the kitchen doorway, looking grim. She was fingering her rosary, and she was obviously upset.

  “Come and sit down, Mother. I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”

  “Oh, no, thank you. I’ll wait for everyone else.” Mother Superior took the chair across from Sister Kate and leaned forward conspiratorially.

  “It’s Sister Cecelia. I’ve been praying for her, you know. I’m terribly afraid she’s endangering her immortal soul.”

  “Sometimes I can’t sleep at night, so I stand vigil. Sister Cecelia has been meeting Bishop Donahue in his room. They close the door, Sister Kate, and that’s a breach of decorum.”

  Sister Kate nodded. Mother Superior was obsessed with the notion of sex between nuns and priests. It was easy to guess which direction this conversation would take.

  “I’ll speak to Cissy and remind her to leave the door open, Mother. And I’m sure she’ll be very grateful for your prayers and your concern.”

  “Thank you, Sister Kate.” Mother Superior smiled. “Do you really think His Holiness wore a ski costume like the one you put on my paper doll?”

  “I’m sure he did.” Sister Kate nodded. “We tend to forget that he was once a boy.”

  Cissy came into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “Everything’s quiet upstairs. Monsignor Wickes is washing his rug with turpentine. It smells terrible, but it looks like it’s coming out. Should I tell him to sleep in the extra room tonight?”

  “That’s a good idea, Cissy.”

  “I asked what everyone wanted. One coffee, two teas, and one Bloody Mary. That’s for the monsignor, but he was just kidding. He really wants plain tomato juice. And the major found a new game to play on the computer, something about foxholes. He wants a grape Nehi, just like Radar drinks on MASH. Gustie says she’s too depressed to want anything.”

  “This cinnamon rusk might change her mind.” Sister Kate handed a small china plate to Cissy. “Tell her she can have chocolate milk if we make it with artificial sweetener.”

  The teapot was warm. Sister Kate dumped out the water, filled the ball with the special English blend that Archbishop Ciminski liked, and poured boiling water over it.

  “Could you carry the cookies, Mother? I’ll bring everything else. And would you like to pour today?”

  “Oh, I’d love to.” Mother Superior beamed. “I used to do a lot of entertaining, you know. Faculty teas, sponsors’ dinners, that sort of thing. And I promise I won’t spill tea on the archbishop again.”

  Dale Kline ushered Michele into his office and waited until she was seated in the leather chair opposite his desk. Then he pressed down the intercom.

  “Hold all my calls, Helen. If Al Reinholz stops by to pick up his will, have him sign both copies and witness it. And give Jim a ring. Set up an appointment on Monday for the property settlement. Oh, yeah. Helen? Does Ray Perini have any outstanding balance on the books? Good!
Find out who’s handling his funeral, and send flowers with my business card. See what you can get for twenty that doesn’t look cheap.”

  Dale turned to Michele with a smile.

  “Well, Michele, what can I do for you? Is somebody finally suing the Pro Choice Clinic?”

  “No, this time it’s personal, Dale. Cindy came in to see me this afternoon. She’s pregnant.”

  “Oh, Christ!”

  Dale’s face turned white, and he swallowed hard.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have let her go to that dance. When they get to be teenagers, you’ve got to watch them every minute.”

  Dale’s hands were shaking as he ran them through his carefully styled hair. He looked down at the desk, unable to meet Michele’s eyes.

  “Did she tell you who the boy is?”

  Michele sighed deeply. Did Dale really think she’d buy a stupid story like that?

  “She told me everything, Dale, and I do mean everything. I’ve already arranged for an abortion this afternoon. Now give me three reasons why I shouldn’t go directly to the police. Incest’s a crime, just in case you’ve forgotten your legal training.”

  “I never meant to.” Dale’s voice was muffled as he covered his face with his hands. “You’ve got to believe I tried. She looks just like Vera. And she pranced around the house in those skimpy little clothes! I—I got drunk one night. And she cuddled up to me on the couch. She said she was lonesome and she wanted me to hold her. Honest to God, I couldn’t help it.”

  Michele shifted in her chair, made tense by her emotions. She felt nothing but loathing and rage for any man who seduced his own daughter.

  Dale looked up. He had an earnest expression on his face, and his eyes were moist.

  “I know it was wrong. I just don’t know what got into me. I give you my solemn word it’ll never happen again.”

  “That’s not good enough, Dale. I’ve heard that line before.”

  “What do you want me to do, then?”

  “I’ve got a friend who teaches at a girls’ school in Connecticut. I want you to enroll Cindy right now. We’ll keep her at the clinic tonight, and she’ll be ready to travel by tomorrow.”