J Bird said that making delicious food was ultimately about the transfer of energy. Her love of food was transferred to people who savored it. Delia prayed that therapeutic touch, practiced by a neophyte, might have a similar effect on Claire.
Delia’s knees turned rubbery and she listed to one side.
“Hold on there,” said Mike. He gripped her with his hands, nearly encircling her rib cage. “They’re taking good care of her, Delia. Rob said he’d call the second that she wakes up. We’ve done everything we can here.”
She released the feet and the lush, food-filled vision vanished. “I want to leave her a note, with my phone number on it.” A colossal fatigue descended on her, thumping along on the pathways carved by heroin, the way the man had licked her neck, Narcan, the attack, the Phoenix House, Courtney, and Hayley’s desperate longing for her mother.
Mike reached in his pants pocket and handed her his ever-present notepad. She wrote, “Claire, Hayley is safe and in South Portland, Maine. Call me as soon as you can.”
“Time to go,” said Mike. “I promise to drive a little slower, but I’m getting you home.”
CHAPTER 49
Juniper
Juniper did the only thing she knew how to do to help her sister. After she got the call from Ira that Delia wouldn’t be home until three a.m., she chopped candied ginger, took a quart of buttermilk out of the fridge and allowed it to come to room temperature, cut butter into the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder, and mixed the ingredients into a dough for scones. She let it rest for fifteen minutes. Only when she stopped did she notice the acidic taste in her throat, the way her hands vibrated with static electricity. She gripped the counter and let out a sob. She should have known that Ira would never ask Delia to go to Denver to pick up a child. Even she knew that was beyond the responsibility of Foster Services. More importantly now, she needed to take care of Delia.
She had never seen Delia undone before, not even after the fire, after Tyler disappeared. But from Ira’s tone of voice, Delia was shaken to the core. He warned her that there had been a car accident, but he rushed to say Delia had not been badly injured, no broken parts. But something else had happened: She had been drugged, injected with a large dose of heroin. And correction, it hadn’t been an accident. Her car had been intentionally rammed.
“Wait. Did you just say Delia and heroin in the same sentence?” Juniper was stuck on the first part of the unthinkable news. “Where was she? I thought she was bringing a kid back from Denver for you guys.”
“Not exactly,” he said. Juniper knew Ira for the entire time that Delia worked for him at Foster Services. “She went to Tennessee.”
Why would Delia have lied to her?
“There’s more. The guy who rear-ended her car and attacked her is part of a large drug ring. She was injected with a nearly lethal dose of heroin. She was saved only because one of the few people she knew in Tennessee saw her rental car and stopped.”
“What?” Juniper’s sky broke open, turned to glass, and shattered. “What is going on?” Her big sister, the steady one, was the captain of their ship.
Ira continued. “The detective from South Portland PD will bring her home. They made a side trip to Springfield because they may have found the mother of the little girl in the news. Mike just called and gave me the ETA. Oh, and the director of DCF in Tennessee escorted Delia back to Boston and she’s going to spend the night at our house. I thought you might have enough on your hands.”
J Bird still couldn’t entirely grasp the picture. “Are you sure you’re talking about our Delia?”
“She’s going to be okay. She’s been checked out at the hospital in Tennessee. The Portland PD is now working with the Tennessee PD. Delia discovered a lead to a kidnapping and disturbed a nest of major drug dealers.”
J Bird thought she was going to throw up.
“I saw her at the Boston airport. She looks a little rough around the edges, but you know how solid she it. Please try to get some sleep. What am I saying? I know you and Baxter will be pacing around your house until your sister is home. I’ll call you around noon tomorrow after everyone has had some rest.”
Now it was the middle of the night, the awful time of night when the only people awake were drunken revelers or people deep in the midst of an emergency. Juniper wiped the kitchen counter with a yellow sponge for the one hundredth time and dried it with a dish towel, unable to sit down. Baxter stood up before she heard the rustle at the door, the murmuring voices. He moved to the front door, tail swishing in his usual greeting for Delia.
Delia stepped in the door, followed by Mike. A rush of brisk air followed them in. Juniper, despite not wanting to cry, wanting to surround her sister with an arsenal of protection from all that she had endured, pulled Delia into a tight embrace and sobbed. “Tell me you’re okay, please, Delia. Tell me you’re okay.”
Delia’s body felt rigid to the touch, thick with shock and something else. She tried to push away, but Juniper fought to keep a grip on her sister. “You don’t have to say anything now. You’re home. No, you do have to say something. What the hell were you doing? Why did you lie to me?”
Juniper released her sister and took a careful look at her. She wore clothes that didn’t fit her. Baggy pants rolled up just below her knees, a long-sleeved tunic top that hung off her torso. Flip-flops, several sizes too small. Speechless, Juniper took another step back and turned both her hands up in question.
Mike, still as a post behind Delia, said, “She had to borrow clothes. Her clothing is evidence back with the state police in Tennessee.” His voice was low and quiet.
Baxter pushed his golden retriever nose between the sisters and whined in a high-pitched sound of alarm. A keening sound rose from his throat.
Baxter was an obedient dog, well-mannered by any standards, and he had not jumped up on anyone since his adolescent days. Puppy training and his breed’s desire to please motivated him to do the things that the sisters wanted from him. And yet now, without hesitation, he stood to his full height on his back legs and found a bit of exposed flesh along Delia’s forearms and licked tenderly as if she were a baby and he were the nursemaid.
Delia sank to the floor with the dog. “Oh, Baxter,” she said, her face pushed into the russet fur of his neck. “I was so afraid.” He stood firmly, taking in the tremors that wracked her.
Juniper wiped her eyes and nose and looked at Mike, who stood frozen in the doorway, dark circles around his eyes. He tried to control a quiver in his bottom lip by swiping one hand across it. In that instant, with her sister collapsed on the floor, crying into Baxter’s fur, J Bird saw the future. J Bird Café. And Mike. Here he was at last, the one for Delia. Her sister would have to break the news to Tyler.
Delia took a huge breath and exhaled with a shudder. “I’ve never in all my life smelled anything as good as our house. Ginger scones, right? It’s three a.m. and you made scones. You’re amazing.”
Did Delia know that Mike was the perfect fit? She was exceedingly slow about matters of the heart. She’d know soon enough.
Juniper walked past the dog/woman love fest on the floor and gave Mike a hug. “Thank you for bringing her home.”
CHAPTER 50
Delia woke with a start. Where was she? She struggled out of a deep quagmire of sleep and rose up on her elbows. She was home, in her bedroom. The curtains were closed, but a vertical shaft of brilliant light found an open slit and illuminated the headboard, her pillow, and her face. What time was it? She smelled coffee and something else. Apples, cinnamon, and a particular arrangement of sugared flour. Why was J Bird baking so early in the morning? She rolled to one side and looked at the red digital numbers of her clock. Twelve thirty. Half past noon? She made a cursory search for her cell phone and couldn’t find it.
As soon as her feet hit the floor, she heard Baxter’s bark, the knock on the front door, and voices. She grabbed a pair of jeans from the corner chair and stepped into them. A tank top hung on the doorknob
of her closet, and she wiggled into it.
The rush of air from the front door greeted her at the top of the stairway. Usually she galloped lightly down the stairs. Today her body offered resistance at every front: a stiff neck, the shadow of a headache, and complaints from all major muscle groups. She held onto the railing and walked awkwardly down the stairs. She padded barefoot into the kitchen.
Surrounding the kitchen island was a crowd of J Bird, Mike, Ira, and Pat Garvey, a configuration that had never occurred in their house before. Baxter caught sight of her, clattered across the wood floor, and whirled around her legs. All four people turned in her direction at once.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened now?” said Delia. She ran one hand through uncombed hair.
All four of them were smiling. Mike said, “Claire is awake. She’s been awake since early this morning. She is campaigning hard to be released from the hospital. But how are you? Your sister wouldn’t allow any of us to come until noon, and she is a force to be reckoned with.”
No wonder they were all smiling like Cheshire Cats. Delia exhaled and put her hands over her face. “I was so afraid we’d never find her. And then last night I thought she’d been found too late. Why didn’t she call me? I left my number.” Her legs felt rubbery. Mike pushed a stool in her direction and she perched on it, her feet hooked around the highest rung.
J Bird removed muffins from a sturdy baking tin and set them on a blue platter. “My fault. Once you fell asleep, I took your phone away. Enforced sleeping. I also refrained from making coffee at my usual time and waited as long as I could to bake the muffins. I knew your nose would wake you. And I begged Baxter to be extra quiet, which translated into extra dog treats.” She pointed to the cell phone on the counter.
Delia looked at Ira and Mike. “Does Hayley know yet?” The last time she’d seen Hayley was with Baxter just a few days ago, but time since then felt dense and dark.
Ira reached for a golden muffin. “By the time Mike called me, Hayley was already in school. I told Erica. I didn’t know that woman could squeal that loud.” He paused, muffin in hand. “We were all waiting for you, Delia.” He looked at his watch. “Hayley will be home in two hours. Are you up to it? I thought you’d want to tell her.”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I want to tell her that we found her mother!”
Pat Garvey leaned against the fridge and crossed her arms. “Then, darling, you need to go take a shower before you scare that little girl witless. We’ll wait right here for you. I need to eat some muffins.” She turned to Juniper. “I’ve heard quite a bit about your culinary skills from Ira. My name is Pat Garvey. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She stepped forward and extended her hand. “I offer myself as your tester.”
“Get in line,” said Ira. Crumbs from the muffin accumulated on the lower tips of his mustache.
“Right after me,” said Mike.
Delia could have swooned, floated away, adrift on this very moment of cinnamon and love. This could have all been ripped away on a roadside in Tennessee. But it wasn’t. She pushed off the stool and wrapped an arm around Pat.
“J Bird, this is who saved me, and I won’t ever know how she happened along the highway at exactly the right time. But if it weren’t for Pat, you’d all be having a different kind of get-together.” She kissed Pat on her forehead.
Pat put her hand up in the stop signal, palm out. “Okay, enough of that. I’m only asking for lifetime rights at your new café. J Bird Café, is that it? Portland could be my new vacation destination.”
* * *
Delia showered, scrubbing away every hint of her attacker from her arms and neck. The hot water felt medicinal, melting the tight spots in her muscles. She rubbed an ointment into the surface wounds on her heels and covered them with Band-Aids, found a clean pair of jeans, and pulled a sky blue blouse out of her closet and rolled up the sleeves. She slipped on her best sandals, which left the backs of her heels untouched. All she could think about was Hayley.
Downstairs, the group had powered through almost a dozen muffins. Mike was back on his phone, as was Ira. Pat and J Bird had their heads together over the recipe page of her laptop.
Mike smiled as soon as he saw her. “You could have taken time to dry your hair. We still have time before Hayley comes home from school.”
“I can’t think of anything else besides Hayley. I’m too excited to dry my hair!” She fingered wet strands behind her ears.
Ira tapped his phone off and looked at Mike. “You two can share the news at Erica’s. Life goes on back at Foster Services and my presence is required. New kids are coming in.” He looked at Pat. “My wife made reservations for us at the best lobster place in town. We expect to dazzle you with our crustaceans.”
Pat laughed. “We have crustaceans, too. They just happen to live in creeks. Crawdads.”
“Would you care to take a look at our upscale office?” Ira and Pat came with a built-in special language of insider jokes that were the same in Tennessee as Maine; they both knew their offices were far from beautiful.
Mike and Delia headed for the door. Juniper frowned and said, “Delia, can I talk to you for a minute?” She grabbed Delia’s elbow and guided her into the living room. “I’ve got to talk to you later. I don’t want to burst your happiness balloon, but we have to talk about Ben.”
Delia frowned. “Ben? Is he okay? What’s going on?” She felt the air whizzing out of her balloon.
“He’s sick. Or more exactly, he’s addicted to pain meds. Tyler has agreed to help him. I called Ben and left a message for him yesterday to go to the ER and ask for Tyler. I hope that he made it. Our guy is going to need help.”
J Bird seemed to be choosing her words carefully. Unusual for her sister. “There’s more to it than that. It will all hold until you get back from the good news fest with Hayley. But today, I need to talk with you today.” She released Delia’s elbow and shouted, “Hey, Pat. How about I show you the new café tomorrow?”
Something was wrong. She had been so consumed by ending her job at Foster Services and finding Hayley’s mother that she ignored the one person who was the constant in their lives since their parents died. Ben.
CHAPTER 51
Juniper
First things first. J Bird called the vet clinic to see if Ben was there.
“He just came in,” said Jill, “and his wife is with him. I don’t know what’s up, but Michelle rarely comes by anymore now that she’s teaching.”
J Bird heard the concern in the receptionist’s voice. “Tell him I’m on my way to the clinic,” she said.
He must have told his wife. But she had to be sure.
Her eager dog sat expectantly at the door. “Baxter, my apologies, big guy, but you have to stay home. I promise a double walk later.”
* * *
She pushed open the doors to the clinic. Jill looked up from the four-foot-tall counter. “They’re in a meeting with the other two vets, Dr. Stanley and Dr. Maloney. They should be coming out soon. I’ve got patients backed up.”
J Bird looked around at the two waiting rooms on either side of the counter, dogs on one side, cats on the other, with annoyed humans holding on to leashes and cat carriers.
The other two vets emerged from the back room, and both spoke quietly to Jill before they retreated to patient rooms, one with a German shepherd tugging on a leash and the other with a howling cat.
“Can I go back to his office?” asked Juniper.
Jill tipped her head and gestured with her thumb to the back room.
The door was ajar, but she gave a polite knock anyhow. Her stomach protested from too much coffee, and despite all her bravado, confrontations were frightening. Her well-thought-out speech disintegrated in her dry throat.
“Come in, J Bird,” said Ben.
He sat on a stainless steel stool. Michelle looked too upset to sit. Her eyes were bloodshot and the flesh around them was swollen. She knew.
“I talked to Michelle last night
and told her everything,” he said. “In case you think I left anything out, I told her that I’ve been addicted to pain meds for several months, I’ve been buying oxy off the street, and I’ve lost control of this thing.”
Michelle squeezed her eyes shut, pressed her lips together, and turned her face away. “That is everything, isn’t it? Please tell me there’s nothing else,” she said, wiping under her eyes with the back of her hand.
The air in the small room vibrated with pain. “That’s everything I know,” said Juniper.
Ben exhaled with a shudder. “I’ve just explained the situation to my colleagues. I told them that I’ll be going into treatment for six weeks.”
Juniper rushed across the room and hugged the exhausted man. “Oh, thank you, thank you. I was so afraid that we were going to lose you. Did Tyler help you get set up with a treatment center?”
Nothing. Ben and Michelle didn’t say a word, and the silence boomed through her chest. It was hard to tell if something new was wrong when she couldn’t imagine anything worse happening than her family hero in the grips of addiction.
“I’ll let you tell her,” said Michelle. She put one hand on Ben’s shoulder before gathering her purse and leaving the room.
“What do you need to tell me? You went to see Tyler, right?”
“I did. I met him at the ER. Honey, he not only wrote me a scrip for more pain meds, but he gave me a bottle of oxy 160 milligrams. Do you know how powerful those are? Every molecule in my body wanted to swallow those pills. He said for me to come back any time.”
“Are you sure you saw Tyler? Did his name tag say Dr. Greene?”
“I’m as sure as I’ve ever been. Believe me, I was sick, the effects of withdrawal are overwhelming, but every alarm in my system was going off, and if Tyler had anything to do with you and Delia, I had to find out. I thanked him and left. At least he thought I left. I hung around and waited to see who asked for him. You don’t normally ask for a particular doctor in the emergency department; you get who’s available. But a steady stream of people came through in the next hour and asked for Dr. Greene.”
The Tiger in the House Page 26
