You Can Run...

by Carlene Thompson

  “Mommy says Nan doesn’t got charm,” Willow offered.

  “Your mother is absolutely right.” The red in Simon’s face began to fade as he looked at the beautiful little girl sitting on the rug gently stroking the two madly purring cats. “Ready for some apple juice, Willow?”

  2

  After Willow drank her juice and ate the lone blueberry Danish, her eyelids began to droop.

  “You didn’t get much sleep last night,” Diana said. “I think you need a nap.”

  “I don’t take naps so early,” Willow informed her in a voice blurred by exhaustion.

  “You can at least rest your eyes.” Diana pretended to study the matter, although she and Simon had already talked over sleeping arrangements. “Would you like to sleep in the room next to mine?”

  Willow looked at her, troubled. “Isn’t your room upstairs?”

  “Yes. You’re not afraid to sleep upstairs, are you?”

  “Well, no, but before we got here you said the cats could sleep with me but Romeo can’t go up the stairs.”

  “Romeo usually sleeps in Uncle Simon’s room and it’s upstairs. Simon carries him up.”

  “But Uncle Simon doesn’t want to go up and down the stairs all day for naps and playing and all the stuff I do in my bedroom. And Romeo’s kinda heavy. I’m afraid I’ll drop him if I try to carry him to my room upstairs.”

  Diana smiled. “I’ll carry him up for now, but you’ve forgotten this house has an elevator my great-grandfather had installed because he was in a wheelchair the last few years of his life. Romeo can take the elevator up and down.”

  The fact that Romeo did not operate the elevator didn’t seem to cross Willow’s increasingly tired five-year-old mind. Satisfied that the cat could ride to the second floor in the elevator whenever he chose, Willow followed Diana, who carried the fifteen-pound cat up the stairs. Christabel zipped up and down the staircase twice before she calmed enough to lead the way, her long, fluffy black tail waving like a banner.

  Diana ushered Willow into a bedroom near the end of the hall. Sunlight shone brightly on the soft pink, pale green, and powder blue chintz decor that Diana’s grandmother had chosen. “Do you like the room?” Diana asked.

  Willow’s eyes had widened as they swept over the room. “I sure do like it! I love beds with a lid on top.”

  “That’s called a canopy.”

  “Oh yeah. I forgot. Mommy said someday I could have a bed with a can’py.”

  Mommy again. The child’s smile faded again. Then she looked around sheepishly. “My room at home is lots littler than this one. I might get scared in here all by myself.”

  “Do you know what’s really special about this room?” Diana asked exuberantly. She put Romeo down and walked to a side door that opened into a large yellow-and-white bathroom. “This bathroom adjoins my bedroom!” Willow frowned over “adjoins.”

  Diana took Willow’s hand, crossed the bathroom, and opened the opposite door leading into her own tan-and-amber bedroom. “Wow. This room is pretty, too.”

  “I made it the color of the desert—tan for sand, amber for the sun. But the nice thing is that we can leave the bathroom doors open at night and it’ll be like we’re sleeping in the same room. You’ll have a night light and the cats, and we can see each other from our beds. You won’t be scared then, will you?”

  “Well . . .” Willow frowned in thought for a moment then said decisively, “No. I won’t be one bit scared.”

  “That’s great!” Diana beamed. “It’ll be fun, Willow, you wait and see!”

  The child smiled, and the tightness in Diana’s stomach eased a bit. She’d feared Willow would be totally withdrawn or nearly hysterical. She knew the little girl hadn’t completely absorbed the enormity of the fire’s destruction—that would come later, especially if Penny died—but at least for now Willow was coping better than Diana had expected. She appeared to be as strong as her mother, who’d seemingly been so alone in the world yet managed to give her child a good and happy home full of love, security, and also, most important, fun.

  The doorbell rang, and within five minutes Simon appeared in the bedroom. “Glen is here to see you, Diana.” He looked at Willow. “How about climbing into bed, young lady, and letting me tell you a story? I know dozens of them. When Diana was young, they always put her right to sleep.”

  Willow curled up on the bed, and Diana placed Romeo beside her while Christabel leaped up to claim Willow’s other side. Simon sat down on the bed and began one of his interminable tales about ancient Egypt—tales that had always put a young Diana to sleep because they sounded like university lectures rather than children’s bedtime stories. She still didn’t have the heart to tell him. Besides, they were surefire sleep-inducers.

  Willow will be snoring in less than five minutes, Diana thought as she descended the stairs. Glen Austen, the man Diana had been dating since March, sat in the library talking with Clarice. He was slender with ash-brown hair and even features. Most women would probably not have rememberd him unless they’d encountered his considerable quiet charm. Although usually restrained, as soon as he saw Diana, he jumped up and strode to her, taking her forcefully into his arms.

  “My God, Diana, I turned off my phone and went to bed early last night. I didn’t hear the news about Penny until this morning. People say she’s not going to live!”

  Diana saw distress in his large brown eyes and the crease that always appeared between his eyebrows when he was worried. He’d met Penny when he’d dropped by to see either Diana or Simon during the day, and the two of them had formed a casual friendship. Diana and Glen had invited her to have dinner with them at the country club in May, a night that had been fun for all of them. They’d asked her to come with them to the dance at the club tonight, but Penny had declined, saying she’d be a third wheel.

  “Glen, she is so terribly burned. When I left the hospital this morning with Willow, they told me there’s been no change in her condition from last night.” Diana’s voice shook, and she felt tears threatening. “She’s still unconscious and . . .”

  The tears came and Glen again pulled her close to him. “I know it must have been awful, and this sounds cold, but try not to think about Penny right now. There’s nothing you can do for her, and you need to stay strong for Willow.” He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “But you’re all right?” he asked anxiously. “When I talked with you on the phone early yesterday, you said you were going to stop by Penny’s on your way home. When I heard about the explosion this morning, I thought you’d been in it!”

  “I almost was. I was late and I’d just pulled up in front of Penny’s house when it simply blew up. I’ve never been so shocked, Glen. I have never seen anything so terrible in my life. And poor Penny . . .”

  Glen winced and handed her a tissue that Clarice had been waving in his direction for at least two minutes. Clarice skittered out of the room, and Diana mopped at her wet face.

  “Please, no more about Penny, honey.” Glen pulled Diana toward the middle of the room to the comfortable loveseat on which he’d been sitting with Clarice. “You’re so pale and your eyes are sunken. You look like you might collapse. Try to concentrate on something positive.” He paused. “Mrs. Hanson told me Willow is all right.”

  “Yes. She was back in the woods when it . . . happened.”

  “Why was she in the woods after just having surgery?”

  “Something about catching lightning bugs.”

  “I’m glad she’s okay.” Glen took the damp tissue from her, and stroked her wet face. “I’m even happier you weren’t hurt.”

  “Oh, Glen, I told her I’d be there around eight o’clock. If I’d been on time . . .” She shuddered. “I know I’m lucky but I feel so guilty saying it.”

  “You are lucky. Penny seemed like a nice woman, and I know she was a good friend. We’re all sorry about what happened to her, but you have no reason to feel guilty because you are alive and well, sweetheart,” Glen said, kis
sing her forehead.

  Nan walked into the library and Diana realized the girl had been standing in the doorway for the last couple of minutes. Nan fixed her expressionless gaze on Glen. “Do you want coffee or anything?” she asked tonelessly.

  Glen shook his head and Diana said, “None for me either, Nan, but thank you for asking.”

  “It’s my job to ask,” Nan snapped. She turned quickly and strode from the room, her back straight, her head held high, resentment emanating from every line of her body.

  “I think this will be her last housekeeping job,” Diana said drolly. “She hates it.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing. She’ll probably come back to the university and try harder than she did her first year, knowing this might be the only kind of job available to her without a college degree. She was in my European History class. She’s smarter than she seems.”

  Diana doubted his last statement, but she didn’t argue when Glen smiled at her, shallow lines forming around his brown eyes. Puppy dog eyes, she always thought but never told him. Diana knew Glen wished he were the elegant, edgy ladies’ man. That type definitely didn’t have puppy dog eyes—eyes begging for affection, eyes so often betraying hurt and rejection.

  She reached up, touched his light-brown hair, and looked fleetingly at the short stubble on his pleasant face. He must have noticed Diana’s glance, because his hand immediately flew to his chin and cheeks. “I showered but I didn’t take time to shave after I heard about the fire. I was so shaken up I would have given myself a few fairly bad nicks.”

  “You don’t always have to be perfectly groomed, Glen. It’s Saturday.”

  “We were supposed to go to the country club dance tonight.”

  Diana sighed. “Oh well, I don’t think either one of us was looking forward to the dance all that much.”

  “I was. I thought it would be a nice change from the usual dinner and a movie. I even sent my best suit to the cleaners.” Diana didn’t meet his gaze. She hadn’t given a thought as to what she would wear. “Should I send flowers to Penny?” Glen asked suddenly.

  “No. She’s in the burn unit. I’m sure they don’t allow flowers.” Diana paused. “I saw her briefly last night before they took her away in the ambulance. Mercifully, she was unconscious. She looked so awful. I didn’t even try to see her this morning, although I did ask about her. She’s still unconscious and her condition hasn’t improved.” Diana drew a long, ragged breath. “I’m certain she’ll die.”

  “My God, what a shame.” Glen’s voice shook slightly, and Diana knew he was appalled. He’d been acquainted with Penny, but he hadn’t known her well. Nevertheless, he clearly felt dreadful for the lovely young woman and her child. “Does anybody know what happened at her house?” he asked. “It couldn’t have been faulty wiring. That doesn’t cause a house to explode.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Diana considered telling Glen about the gun that Simon had seen in Penny’s house. Then she glimpsed the toe of a white tennis shoe around the corner. Nan was standing just out of sight at the library entrance, eavesdropping again. This wasn’t the first time Diana had caught the young woman listening to private conversations, and she knew that she should reprimand Nan, but not now. Still, she was glad she’d said nothing to Glen about the gun or the events at the hospital. She didn’t know what Nan Murphy might do with the information—probably try to sell it to a newspaper. “An arson investigator will probably check the house today,” she went on. “He’ll be able to tell us what caused the explosion.”

  “I suppose so.” Glen put his arm around Diana and gazed into her eyes. “I’m just so thankful you weren’t in that house, Diana. You don’t know how much I care for you.”

  Diana felt guilty, as Glen kissed her gently on the lips. His voice had deepened with emotion when he spoke of how much he cared for her. She wished only that she felt the same way about him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  1

  “You found the SUV just parked in the driveway? No note? Nothing?”

  “The keys were inside, which was a relief.” Simon smiled at Diana, who sat beside him on a couch in the library after Glen had left. “I have no idea what time Tyler Raines returned the car. I don’t know whether he left here on foot or he had a taxi waiting.”

  “I’d be shocked that he didn’t even leave a note except that he also didn’t follow Willow to the hospital. He seemed so concerned about her at the site of the fire. He even went back to look for her after bringing Clarice and me here.” Diana shrugged. “I don’t understand him, and to be honest, Simon, I don’t trust him. His actions don’t make sense.”

  “He seemed trustworthy to me when he was here, and I even understand him not going to the hospital with Willow—he’d already notified us, he isn’t her family, and he must have been exhausted. I don’t mean to belittle your woman’s intuition about him, though.”

  “Oh, Simon!” Diana exclaimed. “You’re not going to explain my feelings by attributing them to sexist nonsense like women’s intuition.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear, even if I believe in it just a tiny bit.” He grinned. “Your grandmother did have some influence on me. I do think sometimes, not often, intuition rather than provable data gives us the correct answer. And if you repeat that to anyone, I shall deny it with the last breath in my body!”

  Diana giggled. “I promise not to repeat it, but I have to tell you, hardly a day goes by when you don’t surprise me. I don’t think anyone could ever completely know you, Simon Van Etton.”

  “No one ever completely knows anyone else,” he replied, his tone growing serious. “But there is one person in this world I completely trust, Diana, and that is you.” She felt her color heighten in surprised pleasure. “That’s why when you tell me someone was in your hospital room last night, I know you’re right. Good heavens, no one is certain yet that the explosion at Penny’s was accidental. Didn’t those hospital people see the connection between the firecrackers going off and your claim that someone was hiding in your and Willow’s room at that same time?”

  “Apparently not,” Diana said dourly. “They thought the firecrackers were someone’s idea of a joke, and I was an imaginative hysteric. To be fair, though, I didn’t take time to explain that we think Penny is in trouble, and that somebody might have meant her and Willow harm.”

  “No, all they knew was that the little girl’s house had caught on fire. But someone setting off firecrackers on the hospital floor where a child who has just escaped a fire is staying would have seemed quite a coincidence to me even if I didn’t know the whole story.”

  “Unfortunately, not everyone thinks about coincidences that are just too suspicious not to be real coincidences like you do, Uncle Simon. Most people weren’t interested in the way the firecrackers had been set,” Diana went on. “The orderly who found the firecrackers also discovered cigarette ashes in a trail on the floor beside the trash can. He explained how someone probably had pinched off the filters of two extra-long cigarettes, fastened them together, and attached the fuse to them to delay igniting the firecrackers by six or seven minutes.

  “When I heard that, I realized the time delay would have allowed someone to hurry to my and Willow’s room and hide before the firecrackers went off. In a lab coat, neither an unfamiliar man nor woman would have been noticed in that crowded corridor.”

  “But you couldn’t convince anyone of this scenario.”

  “I didn’t even try,” Diana said morosely. “I insisted Security search our room, but whoever had been hiding in the bathroom was gone. I know he left when I ran into the hall with Willow. The hospital personnel acted like I was an idiot. I can’t say I blame them. It does sound farfetched, especially because I couldn’t offer any reason for someone wanting to murder Willow and me. I still can’t, but I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. I sat up in a chair watching over Willow.”

  Simon clasped Diana’s hand in his own strong, tanned one. “Of course you sat up watching over Willow
if you sensed danger. I wouldn’t have expected anything less of you. You could have called me, you know.”

  “So you could do what? Sit up with me? No, I needed you well rested today. You have to look after both Willow and Clarice.”

  “Clarice doesn’t need me, dear. She’s very self-sufficient.”

  “In her own home. This place is unfamiliar to her. I’m glad she’s here, though, both for her sake and for Willow’s. Even if her house were livable, I wouldn’t want to think of her sitting there looking at the heap that was Penny’s home, going over the experience time after time in her mind. Where’s Clarice now?”

  “In her room, reading.” Simon couldn’t suppress his slightly proud expression. “She’s reading one of my books. I didn’t push it on her. It was lying on a table, she picked it up and flipped through it, then said it looked fascinating and asked if I minded her reading it. If I minded! I was embarrassingly flattered.”

  “Your books are fascinating,” Diana said seriously. Simon had always amazed her by his ability to write fast-paced, engrossing sagas of an ancient culture, when he couldn’t tell a simple children’s story to save his life.

  Simon looked at her closely. “My dear, why don’t you lie down and rest? I can see you’re exhausted.”

  “I’m worn out but not sleepy. Besides, I need to buy some clothes for Willow and go by Clarice’s to see if her clothes and medicine are salvageable. In the meantime, I should get going. The little energy I have left is definitely on the wane, and I don’t want to wait two hours for Nan to make another pot of coffee.”

  2

  Diana first bought a booster seat and had it installed in her car for Willow. She understood the child objecting to it—at five, Diana would have felt the same way about being forced to ride in a “baby seat.” Nevertheless, even if the law didn’t require the seat, Diana realized it provided safety for a young passenger.

  Before she’d left the house, Diana had looked at the size of the dress the nurse had brought for Willow to wear home. She knew an experienced store clerk could help her select jeans, T-shirts, and shoes to fit the child. Clarice had insisted that if the fire had damaged her own clothing, she’d take a taxi downtown and choose a few new dresses for herself. “I can’t stand being such a burden,” she’d told Diana, who did not intend to send the woman off in a taxi for an extended shopping trip on a hot afternoon. She’d reassured Clarice for at least the fifth time that she was not a burden.