Oh, God! Please don’t let it be any of those things.
Chapter Twenty-One
A Paper Wad and a Hollow Thud
BOTH OF THE POLICE officers are wearing serious expressions when Mrs. Deffenbaugh and I arrive at the door. I guess they teach them how to give their faces that official look when they talk to people. Especially if it’s bad news.
One of them, the shorter one, is holding a clipboard, and I can only imagine what’s contained on the papers trapped under that big silver clamp at the top. I don’t want to know.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Deffenbaugh whispers as we arrive at the door.
“Can I help you?” I ask through the screen. My voice sounds small and shaky in my ears.
The taller one touches the brim of his hat. “Good morning, ladies. We’re looking for Robin Sherwood.”
“I’m Robin Sherwood.”
“Sorry for showing up unexpected like this, Miss Sherwood,” he says. “We tried to call first, but there seems to be a problem of some kind with your phone lines. I’ve reported it, and a service man should be out tomorrow to fix it.”
I nod, still waiting for them to drop the horrible news on me. “Yes, sir. We’ve been having some problems with our phones.”
“Would you mind if we come in?” he asks.
Oh, no! They want to come in. They want to sit down and smile at me, and soften the blow with some small talk about nothing important before they tell me my little brother and my parents have died.
I push the screen door open and hear the creak of the hinges. “Is Andy okay?”
They both step inside without replying. Why doesn’t he answer me?
“Is there a place we can sit down and talk for a few minutes?” the tall one asks.
Oh, God! I knew it. It is bad news. If Andy were okay, they would just tell me. And if Mom and Dad were all right, they would tell me that, too. Something’s wrong. Maybe the Voodoo powder didn’t work after all and they’re still in that trance or whatever state of consciousness Fabien Laveau put them in. Maybe I waited too long to use it and they died because I didn’t do it in time.
“Why don’t you go into your father’s study,” Mrs. Deffenbaugh whispers in my ear. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” She walks back down the entry hall toward the kitchen, snatching the butcher knife as she passes the table.
Yes. My father’s study. That’s a good idea.
“Follow me,” I say, as my mind races, still wondering why they’re here. Wanting—but not wanting—to hear what they have to tell me.
A few moments later, we’re in the large, paneled room Dad spent so much time in. I always loved this room, and still do. It reminds me so much of him. The smell of his pipe tobacco hangs in the air. Maybe it’s in the thick drapes covering the windows, too. I don’t know. But I feel his presence when I’m in here. I sit behind his large mahogany desk, and the two officers sit across from me in the brown leather chairs.
“This is a very nice room,” the one with the clipboard says as he glances around.
Why is he talking about the room?
“Yes,” I say, trying to sound more grown up and failing at my attempt to keep my voice from shaking. “Thank you,” I add as the tall one clears his throat.
Here it comes.
I bite my lip, and my leg starts bouncing. A lump is growing in my throat. I glance at the gold frame on the desk and see the picture of Andy and me. My eyes are getting watery, but I’m not going to cry in front of them.
“You need to come with us to the hospital.”
Something is gripping my heart and tightening down on it. They must need me to identify the bodies or sign a form of some kind. I can’t do it. I can’t. I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to.” The sting comes to my eyes as my tears well up. If I blink, they’ll fall out.
“Why not?” the taller officer asks.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I can’t.”
The officers stare at me for a while before speaking. “Your parents are alive, Miss Sherwood,” the one with the clipboard says. “They’re both fine. And they want to see you.”
My breath rushes in, and I can hardly believe their words when they come to my ears. “They’re all right?”
The taller officer nods. “Aside from a broken arm and some scrapes and bruises from the crash, they’re fine. They’re pretty tired and weak from the ordeal, and the doctors want to keep them in the hospital another day or so while they heal up before sending them home. It’s a miracle, really, that they managed to survive in the bayou for so long. And your brother is going to be okay, too. He has a concussion and some stitches, but he’ll be fine in no time.”
I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. I nod, so happy about what I’m hearing that I can’t speak.
“Your parents asked us to come and pick you up. We’d be happy to give you a ride to the hospital.”
It’s finally sinking in. My parents are alive! They came out of the Voodoo trance. I didn’t do it wrong after all. And Andy is okay, too. I must have taken good care of him. Thank goodness!
Suddenly, I realize the shorter officer is speaking to me. “Miss Sherwood? Would you like to go see your parents now?”
“Yes! Oh, yes, I would! Just give me a minute to change.”
They both smile at me and nod their heads. “Certainly,” the tall one says. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I didn’t let them see me cry. But I’m crying now as I run up the stairs and to my bedroom. But it’s not tears of sadness this time. I can’t believe the wonderful news I’ve just been given. It’s like a gift from Heaven, wrapped in the most beautiful paper imaginable and tied up with a big red bow.
I decide to put on a dress, even though I don’t feel comfortable in one, and I opt for the patent leather shoes again. My feet are going to be unhappy with me by the time I get home, but I want to look nice when Mom and Dad see me for the first time in over a week. I try to do something with my kinky hair, but I finally decide that it’s a lost cause and just brush it, gather it up into a ponytail and put a rubber band around it.
As always, I’m not too happy with my reflection in the mirror, but I’m not totally disappointed either. I look fine. Well, not really fine. More exhausted than fine, but presentable in a plain sort of way. I consider going to Mom’s room and trying to use some of her makeup to brighten things up a little, maybe just a tiny bit. But I decide not to. That’s what our argument was about before they left, and I don’t want to open up that can of worms again.
The newspaper clipping makes a ripping sound when I tear it off the wall. I stare at it for a moment before crumpling it into a ball. When I drop it in my metal wastebasket, it answers with a hollow thud.
“You were wrong, Conrad! Wrong. Wrong. Wrong! They’re alive! Too bad for you!” I yell as I leave my room. The clouds have lifted, and a brightness I haven’t felt in a long time is filling my soul as I run down the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Reunion
The Hospital—Saturday
I DON’T LIKE HOSPITAL smells. When I enter the lobby, they float up my nose and surround me like flies on a watermelon. It reminds me of the time we brought Andy in to have his stomach pumped. It’s funny how smells can spark such vivid memories, no matter how old they are.
After the officers take me to the front desk where a pretty lady gives me Mom and Dad’s room number, they both sit on a big black Naugahyde couch in the waiting area. My shoes click on the tile floor when I walk across the lobby and push the button to call the elevator. When it arrives, the man standing inside holding the handle that operates it gives me a big smile and asks me what floor. My pulse races as I tell him, and we take a short ride before he opens the door and I step out.
As I walk down the long hallway, I check the shiny brass numbers on each door. The numbers are getting higher, which means I’m heading in the right direction. I’m not being nosy, but I glance inside each room as I pass. T
hey all look alike. Some of them are empty, but even the ones with people lying on the beds seem lonely.
When I find the room with the right number on the door, I step inside. Warner is sitting on a chair next to Dad’s bed. My heart nearly explodes with joy when I see Mom smiling at me. She opens her arms and I rush into them as the tears fall from my eyes and run down my face.
“Oh, baby,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m so happy to see you.”
I look up at her to see the tears on her cheeks. My throat is so closed up I can’t even speak. Since the words won’t come out, I just nod and smile and wipe my eyes. A huge empty space has filled in. It’s like Christmas and Thanksgiving and birthdays, all rolled into one wonderful moment.
Dad’s soft, deep voice floats into my ears. “Do you have a hug left for me?”
I leave Mom’s bed and hurry around the foot of it and into Dad’s open arms. Even though one arm has a big plaster cast on it, they wrap around me, feeling so comforting, and I start crying all over again. I’m such a baby. We all cry for a little while—even Dad, although he tries to hide it by turning his head away and pretending he’s adjusting his cast, like there’s anything to adjust.
My parents look thinner than usual, but I’m sure they’ll gain the weight back in no time with Mrs. Deffenbaugh and me taking care of them. I can see the tiredness in their eyes, and I know I should leave and let them rest, but I don’t want to.
I want to tell them about Conrad, and how he was going to kill Andy and me.
But they don’t need to worry about that. There’s nothing they can do about it right now.
The big bandage on Mom’s forehead makes me think of Andy, and I ask Warner about him.
“He’s doing fine, Miss Robin,” he says. “They put a few stitches in his head, but he should be good as new in no time. He was asking about you. Should be coming home tomorrow. In fact, everybody should be home tomorrow.”
I’m glad and relieved to hear the news, and it feels as if a heavy weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Andy is okay. Mom and Dad are alive. Everything is heading back toward the normal lives we used to know. There’s only one thing left that needs to be taken care of—Conrad—and since no one else is available to take care of that problem, I’ll have to do it myself.
A short, plump nurse in a crisp, white uniform waddles in. Her stethoscope sways from side to side like a pendulum as her rubber-soled shoes squeak on the waxed tile floor with every step. She gives Mom and Dad little paper cups with pills in them and pours them each a glass of water from a big silver pitcher on the table between their beds.
Warner and I don’t stay too long after that because the nurse says my parents need to get some rest. I give them each a big hug and a kiss goodbye, and I tell them I’ll see them tomorrow when Warner brings them home.
We walk down the hall in silence for a few minutes until Warner speaks. “That crazy uncle of yours come back yet?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. But Beau Diddly is in the stable.”
Warner stops walking. His hand moves up to his stubbly chin, and he starts rubbing it. “Hmm,” he says as he glances up at the ceiling, like the words he’s looking for are written there. “Hmm. Well, that could mean old Beau ran off and left your uncle stuck with walking back. That mule is mighty particular about who rides him. I warned Mr. Conrad about that. If that’s what happened, it’s going to take him some time to get back to the house. It could mean something else, though.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “It could mean he rode him back, couldn’t it?”
We start walking down the hall again. Warner is still rubbing his chin. When we arrive at the elevator doors, he stops rubbing it and pushes the silver button to call the elevator.
I repeat my question. “He could have ridden Beau back, couldn’t he?”
“I suppose he could have,” Warner replies. “But if he did, I’m thinking you would have seen him by now. So I’m thinking he didn’t ride back. Of course, he also could have fallen in the quicksand next to that big cypress tree. I told him about the tree, but I sort of forgot to make any mention of the quicksand. So, that’s a possibility, too. And since Beau Diddly can’t tell us what happened, it’s hard to say right now for sure. All we can do is hope for the best and expect the worst. Do you still have the rifle I gave you?”
I nod as the hollow ding of the elevator sounds. “I left it in the stable when I put Star and Sunny away last night. After you left the house.”
The stainless steel doors of the elevator slide apart and we step inside. When they open a few seconds later, I follow Warner to Andy’s room. He’s awake and bright-eyed when we walk in, and he’s wearing a big smile. I’m so happy to see him, and I give him a long hug and ruffle his scruffy hair. There’s a clean white bandage on his forehead, and it’s a lot nicer than the one I concocted when we were in the shanty.
Warner decides to leave us alone for a few minutes so we can talk. After he leaves the room, Andy asks the question that I’m sure has been on his mind all day. “What about Uncle Conrad?”
“He’s in the bayou,” I answer. “At least, I think he is. He took Beau Diddly. We passed him on the way home, but he didn’t see us. Beau Diddly came home this morning. I heard him in the stable. Warner said Beau might have left Conrad there and came home without him. If that’s what happened, it’s going to take him a while to get back to the house. Mom and Dad should be home by then, so we don’t have to worry about him any longer.”
“I hope a big, fat gator eats him, or he gets stuck in the quicksand. Or Fabien Laveau catches him and turns him into a zombie.”
“Me, too. Warner said he thinks that’s what might have happened. The quicksand, I mean.” We talk for a while longer before a pointy-faced nurse comes in and checks Andy’s blood pressure. After she finishes and takes the black rubber contraption off his arm, she tells me I need to leave now so Andy can rest.
Warner is resting in a chair outside Andy’s room when I go through the doorway, and he tells me he’s going to stay for a while to keep Andy company. The nurse seems to have no problem with that. I give Warner a hug as I leave him.
After riding the elevator back downstairs to the lobby, I find the two police officers waiting for me, still sitting on the couch and reading their magazines. We don’t talk much on the way home, and in a short time, we’re pulling to a stop in the circle at the top of the driveway. I thank them for taking me when I get out, and I give them a wave as the police car heads down the drive.
My senses are on high alert as I walk up the steps to the veranda. My eyes are darting every which way, looking for any signs of Conrad. I open the screen door and step inside the foyer.
“I’m home,” I yell to Mrs. Deffenbaugh.
My voice echoes through the house. There’s no reply.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cherry Picking
The Sherwood Estate—Saturday
WHEN I ARRIVE IN the kitchen, I find Mrs. Deffenbaugh sitting there in her favorite chair. She jumps when I place my hand on her shoulder. Her fingers head toward her ear, and she gives me a smile. “I forgot to turn my hearing aid on, dear. Did you have a nice visit with your parents?”
“Yes. They should be home tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mrs. Deffenbaugh replies. “You just sit down and rest for a bit.”
She gets up from her chair and fixes me a glass of iced tea, and we sit at the table for a while. As I sip the sweet tea, my thoughts return to Conrad and the discussion Warner and I had in the hospital. I wonder what might have happened to him. As Warner said, he could still be in the bayou. But he could also be on his way back to the house. My biggest worry is not knowing where he is, or when he might show up unexpectedly. I keep hoping he’s in the quicksand, but I know I can’t count on that. I look across the table at Mrs. Deffenbaugh’s gentle face smiling at me. An idea I’ve been thinking about comes to mind.
“How do you make blueberry muffins?” I ask.
She points to the front of her apron and gives me a bright smile before reciting the words printed on it. “I’d tell you the recipe, but then I’d have to kill you.”
I laugh. We both laugh. It feels good—the way it used to feel when my parents were here and the house was filled with my mother’s musical laughter. I especially remember Christmas and the glow in her eyes as she watched Andy and me unwrap our presents. I can almost smell the aromatic scent of the pine tree and taste the sweet cocoa we always had on Christmas Eve. My happy thoughts melt away when I remember how I’d argued with her just before she left on the plane.
As my memories fade, I realize that Mrs. Deffenbaugh is standing beside me, offering me a small piece of paper. “That’s the best recipe I’ve found,” she says as I take the paper from her pudgy fingers. “Your uncle’s blueberries are still in the fridge. If you’d like some help, I’m available.” She plants her hands on her wide hips and waits for my answer.
“No.” I shake my head and smile up at her. “I’d like to do it myself if you don’t mind.” I put the recipe on the table and set the salt shaker on top of it. “I’ll try not to make a big mess of your kitchen.”
She pats my shoulder with her chubby hand. “You make all the messes you want. And have fun with it. I know your uncle will be surprised when he sees them. And they’ll be special, because you made them.”
I nod. “They’ll be special, all right,” I tell Mrs. Deffenbaugh as I finish my tea and take the glass to the sink. “I’m going to my room to change.”
I leave the kitchen and head toward the staircase. There’s something I need to do, but I want to get out of this dress and back into my jeans first. I shouldn’t have worn these fancy shoes. They’re hurting my feet with every step, and I think I’ve got blisters on both heels now.
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