Alice Sharpe

by Cowboy Incognito

  “This is some house,” Zane said as he looked around.

  “Yeah.”

  “It doesn’t really fit the neighborhood anymore, does it?”

  “Not really,” Kinsey said, but she was distracted. Nerves and trepidation made her throat dry. “The land it’s sitting on is the real value.”

  “I bet,” Zane said.

  They’d climbed the rickety stairs by now and Kinsey grabbed Zane’s arm. “Do me a favor, okay?”

  “Anything.”

  “Just go along with whatever story pops into my head to explain the fact you’re in hospital scrubs.”

  “What are you going to say?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” she admitted. Maybe they should come up with a plan. She was about to suggest this when the door opened and they found themselves face-to-face with an average-sized man in his midfifties with perfectly styled graying hair. He held a briefcase in one hand. They caught him midsentence and he stopped talking at once.

  “Hello, Mr. Fenwick,” Kinsey said.

  “Kinsey, you’re looking well.” James Fenwick’s gaze left her face immediately and traveled up to Zane’s. Kinsey had called him dour the night before, but now she looked at his tanned skin and the expectant smile curving his lips and he seemed a little less formidable than he had before.

  Kinsey’s mother was right behind Fenwick. She, too, looked at Zane, but instead of curiosity, her expression reflected fear. As long as Kinsey had been aware of her mother’s emotional state of being, meeting strangers was always fraught with this initial reaction of distrust.

  “Who is this?” Frances Frost demanded, narrowing her eyes and frowning. “What’s wrong with his neck?”

  “I had a riding accident yesterday,” Zane explained as his hand flew to his throat. “While playing polo. Anyway, my horse’s flying hooves almost took my head off.” As Kinsey gaped at this explanation, Zane cleared his throat. “You look familiar. Have me met before, Mrs. Frost?”

  “No,” she said firmly. “I’ve never seen you before right now. Your clothes...are you a doctor?”

  “Yes,” he said easily. “Yes, I am.”

  “What are you doing here with Kinsey?”

  “Zane is a neighbor,” Kinsey said. “He needed a ride to work this morning.”

  Frances waved all this aside. “Come with me,” she told Zane. “Bill’s cough is worse. He won’t let me call his doctor, but since you’re a doctor and you’re here anyway, you can take a look at him.”

  “Now, Frances,” James Fenwick said gently, “this young man isn’t Bill’s doctor. Bill’s situation is too serious to fool around with, you know that.”

  “Yes, I do know that. But Bill’s doctor isn’t here and this man is.” Kinsey could tell her mother was digging in her heels.

  “I don’t have any...equipment,” Zane said, “but I’ll be happy to talk to him if it will make you feel better.”

  The two of them disappeared inside the house.

  “Your mother is a woman of strong conviction,” Fenwick said.

  “You mean she’s stubborn.”

  “Not a bad trait in this day and age when everyone rolls over.” He seemed to smile at Kinsey’s mom’s quirks. “Is your friend really a doctor? I didn’t want to say anything, but it looks as though he slept in his scrubs and he hasn’t shaven. What’s his name? Zane what?”

  “Doe,” Kinsey said. “Zane Doe. And he looks a little worn-out because he worked half the night and has to go back and his shower was broken.” She stopped herself before throwing in any more made-up details. “So, Mr. Fenwick, have you talked to Bill and my mother about Bill’s nephew’s impending visit? They were both pretty upset about it yesterday.”

  “I did talk to them,” Fenwick said as he checked his watch. “I’m going to have to run. I have a meeting in thirty minutes. Don’t worry about your mother. She’ll call me the moment Chad appears and I’ll be back here within fifteen minutes. I won’t allow that rascal to make trouble, I promise you that.”

  “I know you’re good to Bill,” Kinsey said.

  “Yes,” he said, and then added in a soft voice, “And I don’t like to see Frances upset. She’s a special lady.”

  Flabbergasted, Kinsey nodded.

  “Well, nice to see you, Kinsey, take care, say goodbye to your mother for me, will you?”

  Kinsey nodded again. As she crossed the porch, she heard Fenwick’s car door slam. The sound of his revving engine followed her inside.

  She found everyone in the den that Bill Dodge now used as his bedroom. The walls were still lined with row upon row of books, though there were also signs that sorting had begun. Kinsey knew from the times she’d studied the spines that just about every area of interest was covered. Many small libraries would like to have such collections.

  Bill had mounted her Christmas gift to him on a prize piece of wall real estate, one of the few empty spots to be found. It was a painting Kinsey had done using an old photograph of Mr. Dodge back when he fished the river. In it, he wore a hat punctured by dozens of fishing flies and he carried a pole, but she’d also tucked a small book into his breast pocket with only the word Huckleberry showing. Kinsey felt very honored that he liked the painting so much.

  “There’s my girl,” Bill said as she entered the room. “Frances was just going to get me and the good doctor a cup of herbal tea. Sit down here and keep me company while she’s gone.”

  The pictures on the wall showing him standing next to various dignitaries through the years revealed Bill Dodge had once been a tall man with hair as dark as Zane’s was now. Time and illness had softened all the edges, wrinkled his skin and faded his vibrancy.

  None of that affected the kindness of his expression. Having never known her father and growing up with a paucity of adult men in her life, Kinsey enjoyed the way Bill Dodge doted on her. She sat by his chair, marveling that anyone who looked so frail could project so much curiosity. His freckled skull sported few hairs, his eyebrows had all but disappeared, but the lively depths of his blue eyes revealed an active mind and inquisitive nature. She knew he’d started his adult life as a fireman, retired from that, went to college, became a teacher and then graduated from that into real estate before running for city council. He’d been a major influence in one small pocket of New Orleans’s history. He’d fished, sailed, bound books and dabbled in glass blowing. In short, he’d been quite the Renaissance man.

  “I’ll help with the tea,” Zane offered.

  Frances tried to wave him away, but he blithely pretended he didn’t know what she was doing and followed her from the room.

  “Are you terribly upset about your nephew coming for a visit?” Kinsey asked, not really trusting her mother’s take on the situation. Frances regarded a door-to-door salesman as an interloper. A houseguest must really annoy her.

  “Well, you see,” Bill said, pausing to cough into a handkerchief. Her mother and Mr. Fenwick were right, the cough sounded ominous. “I hadn’t seen Chad in years and years when he showed up here and tried playing the doting nephew.” More coughs racked his frail body and Kinsey put out a hand to grip his shoulder. He put his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes.

  “He’s your sister’s son, right?” she said, hoping to do all the talking so he wouldn’t have to. “Mom said she was almost a generation younger than you and that after she died, her husband moved away with their son.”

  “He came for visits...once in a while,” Bill said. He opened his eyes. “I have something for you.” He gestured toward the far wall. “Package in the top drawer of that old chest. Fetch it for me.”

  Kinsey did as he asked, finding what he wanted tucked away under clothes she’d never seen him wear. She handed it to Mr. Dodge before reclaiming her seat. “Why are we whispering?” she asked.

  “Because I want to give you this without your mother around,” he said as he presented the tissue-wrapped package back to Kinsey.

  “Why?” Kinsey asked as she to
ok it.

  “I don’t want to get into an argument with James Fenwick. Just not strong enough to fight all of them. He insists we catalogue everything. And if anyone tells Chad that I’m giving things away, he’ll turn more belligerent than ever. He’s got quite the temper. Best I just do what I want without anyone throwing in their two cents.”

  This long speech seemed to have exhausted him again. Kinsey suspected that he’d probably given away the coin collection that Chad accused her mother of stealing. Kinsey instinctively felt her mother could fight her own battles and that Bill Dodge was the one who deserved to live the rest of his life in whatever way he wanted.

  “Do you think Mom rats on you to your lawyer?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” he scoffed, and then coughed again. To Kinsey’s untrained ears, the cough sounded deep and disturbing and she suddenly understood her mother grabbing onto Zane when she was told he was a doctor. “But I know she occasionally confides in him,” Bill added with a wheeze. “She could mention the fact I’ve been giving my books to special friends and then Fenwick would start in. I don’t have an argument in me. Go ahead, unwrap it.”

  Touched by the very fact he was bestowing an obviously important possession to her, she lifted the tissue to find a small five-by-seven-inch book with gold-leaf writing on the cover. Kinsey ran her fingers over the embossed title as she read it aloud, “Female Artists of the Twentieth Century.” She opened the pages to find reproductions of works and biographies of artists she’d both heard of and never knew existed. The edges of the paper were gilded while the binding was constructed of spectacular red leather embossed with tiny artists’ pallets. “This is beautiful,” she said, raising her gaze to meet Bill Dodge’s. He smiled with joy. “Thank you, Mr. Dodge. I’ll treasure this.”

  “You’ll be in the next edition if they make one,” he said. “Front and center, Kinsey Frost, portraitist extraordinaire.” They heard footsteps approaching and he added, “Tuck it in your handbag now. Our secret. Man my age needs a secret or two.”

  Kinsey hastily closed the book and squeezed it into her small cross-body bag as Bill leaned close with a couple more whispered questions. “Is that young man really a doctor?”

  Kinsey shook her head. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve been around a lot of doctors lately. Why is he dressed like he is?”

  “He has no other clothes,” she said and wondered what Bill would make of that comment.

  “So he’s in trouble,” Bill stated.

  She nodded.

  He sat up straighter as the other two entered the room. “Took you long enough,” he said, but the comment was followed by an attack of coughing that brought Frances racing to his side.

  “No offense to you, Doctor,” she said to Zane, “but I don’t think Mr. Dodge’s cough has a thing to do with allergies like you said. I’m calling Bill’s real doctor.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Zane said as Frances left the room. He looked at Bill and added, “Sorry, sir, but she’s right, you know.”

  Bill’s eyes were watering. His breathing sounded ragged and his face was pale.

  “I suppose she’ll do what she wants anyway,” Bill said. Zane asked to use a bathroom and Kinsey told him where it was. As soon as he left, Bill caught Kinsey’s hand in his. His voice had withered considerably and now the whisper didn’t seem so much a choice as a necessity. “Go back to that same dresser...bottom drawer...jeans, shirts...you know, for your friend. About his size...once upon a time. Take what you want...I won’t need them...again.”

  “Thank you,” Kinsey said and did as he requested. The clean clothes were all neatly folded and she haphazardly chose several items and stacked them on a chair. The long dialogue had wiped Bill out and she helped him sit up in bed to ease his breathing.

  Eventually her mother arrived. “The doctor said to call an ambulance and take him to the hospital. He’ll meet us there.”

  The next half hour passed in a blur. Zane disappeared with some of the clothes and returned looking informal but spectacular in faded jeans and a black shirt. They stowed the rest of the items in a small satchel that Frances pointed out during one of her trips between the front door and Bill’s bedside. She completely ignored the fact that Zane had morphed from a crumpled “doctor” to a regular guy.

  “I feel funny leaving my mother in the lurch,” Kinsey told Zane. “I’d better drive her to the hospital and stay with her until Bill is safe.”

  “Yes, of course,” Zane said.

  “I can drop you off.”

  “I’d appreciate that. The hospital isn’t far from the highway, is it?”

  “No.”

  “Then just take me there and I’ll walk over.” He looked straight into her eyes. The power of all that dazzling blue made her heart race. “This means goodbye.”

  “Not the way I wanted,” she said. She hated any goodbye, there had been far too many in her life, but this one, done prematurely and in haste, really sucked. “Be careful,” she added. “Let me know when you remember who you are. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” he said, his fingers grazing her cheek.

  They were alone except for Bill, whose eyes were closed. Kinsey was surprised and yet not surprised when Zane leaned down and touched her lips with his. Her racing heart almost exploded.

  “Just as ripe and juicy as I knew they would be,” he whispered, and kissed her briefly again. They stepped apart as the sound of the ambulance siren exploded into their consciousness.

  *

  THEIR NEXT GOODBYE was done on the run. Kinsey was spared watching Zane walk away as her mother propelled her into the hospital. They found seats in the waiting room. While Frances tapped her foot and sighed repeatedly, Kinsey found a corner and called Marc, explaining where she was and that she might not make it in to work at all.

  “No problem,” he told her. “Violet and Brent can cover for you. We’ll see you when we see you.”

  “It might be a few days.”

  “Like I said, no problem.”

  Kinsey looked at her mother as she walked back to her seat. Her mother’s gaze was fixed on the closed steel doors of the emergency room. She looked as frightened as she did worried and, for the first time, Kinsey wondered if it ever occurred to her mom that when Bill died, she’d be out of work and a home. Of course, it must have. It would hardly be the first time one of her jobs ended and she had to start over again. How did she do it?

  After four hours of endless waiting interspersed with occasional assurances that things were progressing and they should be patient, a doctor finally appeared and explained that Bill’s condition had stabilized but he wanted to keep him overnight. Frances could see him once they transferred him upstairs.

  Kinsey was preparing herself for an all-night waiting-room vigil when the door blew open and James Fenwick appeared. He pocketed the cell phone he’d been holding to his ear. “I’ve just heard, I’ve been in and out of meetings,” he said, grasping Frances’s elbows. “Is he okay?”

  She explained what they had learned and he assured her that he was there to stay. When she expressed concern about Bill’s nephew arriving to an empty house, Fenwick shook his head. “The place is locked, right? If he finds his way in, so be it. We’ll worry about Chad when we have the time. Okay?”

  Frances slumped against James as she nodded. She appeared close to tears. Kinsey was about to offer comfort when Fenwick’s arm stole around her mother’s shoulder and he squeezed her. She smiled up at him and in that instant, Kinsey knew her mother had finally created a family of sorts that didn’t require Kinsey’s total attention. The thought was amazing: a little sad in a weird way, and joyous in a hundred others. It seemed a trumpet should blare or confetti should fall—something, anything, to mark this totally unaddressed but major transformation. Hallelujah.

  Kinsey touched her mom’s arm and got a distracted glance. “Oh, Kinsey. James is here.”

  “I see that,” Kinsey said.

  “You can l
eave if you have other obligations,” Fenwick said. “Your mother won’t be alone.”

  “I know you’re incredibly busy,” her mother said. “There must be a million things you need to do. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Okay,” Kinsey said. “Tell Bill not to scare me like that again, okay?”

  “I will. And thank you for sitting here with me so long.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  The two older people declared their intention to find the cafeteria for a late lunch before going to Bill’s room. Kinsey declined the offer to join them and, feeling lighter than she had in so long she couldn’t remember, left the emergency room.

  And then she remembered that Zane was gone, this time for good.

  Chapter Five

  Zane’s left leg throbbed. When he’d changed into Mr. Dodge’s old clothes, he’d found bruises from his knee on up. That made sense, considering he’d landed on that side when he was flung into the street. But now, between walking and standing so long, his endurance was spent.

  What was taking so long? Maybe he should move on to plan B.

  Instead, he found a nearby patch of green and lowered himself onto the grass, using a landscape rock to lean against. Not bad, he thought, better than standing with nothing to look at but pavement and cars. The sun felt good on his battered cheek, seemed to sink down under his skin and massage the dull ache in his head and the wounded nerves of his neck and shoulders. He closed his eyes and tried to think positive thoughts.

  He must have dozed, for suddenly he was awake and looking up at the only face on the planet he wanted to see.

  Kinsey’s eyes were huge as she studied him. “What are you doing here at the hospital? You should be all the way out of Louisiana by now.”

  He got to his feet as gracefully as he could manage. “I couldn’t leave,” he said, brushing himself off. He’d moved too fast and his head spun. Kinsey shot out an arm to steady him and he winced. “How is Bill?”

  “Holding his own,” she said. “Have you been out here all this time?”

  “Yeah. I started walking back to the highway and then I suddenly knew I had to make sure you didn’t need help before I left. You’ve done so much for me.”