I turned away, ashamed of my feelings and exhausted by them. Tony squeezed my hand, but then another wind gust hit the car and he put both hands on the steering wheel. I thought about Dr. Diesel’s support group. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe they’d understand what it felt like to be totally pissed at someone but love them at the same time.
After a few minutes, I twisted around to check on Errol. His eyes were closed, his hoodie rising steadily. “Errol?” He didn’t answer. “He’s taking a nap,” I whispered. “He’s been kind of … sick.”
Tony’s gaze darted to the rearview mirror. “How’d you two meet?”
I may have been done with the lies, but Errol’s identity was not my secret to tell. And let’s face it—how could I possibly convince anyone that Cupid was sitting in the back of that Jeep, without using another one of those embarrassing arrows? “I had this stupid idea that I could write for my mother,” I quietly told him. “I figured that maybe I’d inherited some of her talent, kind of like how you said you’d inherited your mother’s talent for science. I’ve always gotten good grades in English and I’ve read a million romance novels so I thought it would be easy. And the publisher was waiting for her next book and we needed the money to pay the hospital bill. That’s why I was in the library that day checking out those romance-writing books.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “Idiotic, I know.”
“I don’t think it’s idiotic. You were trying to help.”
“Well, I didn’t help. I didn’t get anywhere with her book. I couldn’t even come up with a story idea. Then I met him and he said he had this story he wanted to get published. He had all the details from beginning to end but he needed help writing it. At first I thought I could take his story and put my mom’s name on it.”
“You mean steal it?”
“No. He said she could have it. So I got real excited and we started working on it but then I realized that it wasn’t the right kind of story for a romance novel. It didn’t fit in with my mother’s books. But I love his story and I really want to finish it. And now here we are, and I’m working on a book that won’t help my mother at all.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Tony said as he turned on the windshield wipers. The sky had turned the color of charcoal and rain fell in heavy drops. “It’s not your job to fix your mom’s life.”
That had sounded harsh, and it had stung like a slap in the face. But it was true. We drove in silence for a few moments. “So I don’t get something,” Tony said. “How do two people write a book together?”
“I’m writing it but it’s his story. I didn’t come up with the idea. I’m kind of like his … biographer.”
“Biographer?” Tony’s gaze darted to the rearview mirror again. “But he’s our age. Isn’t he too young for a biography?”
I looked back at Errol. He’d slumped deeper into the seat, the edge of his hood covering his eyes. In those few days since we’d met at the bookstore, I’d gone from being annoyed and wary of him, to yearning for him, to being angry and suspicious, and finally, to caring about him. But now I felt a deep, sharp pang of regret. Why couldn’t we have more time together? Think of all the stories he could tell. All the places he’d been and the adventures he’d had. Meeting Cupid was probably the most amazing thing that would ever happen in my life and there’d barely been time to take it in. When we got back home, I’d ask him to tell me more. I’d write it all down. Before it was too late.
“So that means that you two will be spending a lot of time together,” Tony said.
“Maybe,” I said. But maybe not. “We’re friends,” I told him. “Errol and I. Just friends.”
While the word “friend” reassured Tony of his chances with me, it didn’t adequately describe Errol’s and my relationship. I’d come to care about him. Not romantically, but deeply. A story had bonded us. I didn’t want him to die.
I directed Tony to the ferry terminal. The wind picked up and rain kept falling. The seagulls that normally hung out on the pilings or circled Ivar’s fish and chips stand were nowhere to be seen. “This is the last boat until the storm passes,” the ticket taker told us. “It’s getting too choppy out there.” We were the last car to drive on. Mrs. Bobot and her rescue team wouldn’t make it to the island after all.
During the crossing, dizziness washed over me as white-tipped waves pushed the boat side to side. I tried to call the hospital again. I called Realm but there was no news about my mother. “It’s still blowing here,” Realm told me. “The weather guy said it’s gonna be the biggest summer storm to hit the area. Ever. He said he’s never seen anything like it. He called it a freak of nature.”
What could my mother have been thinking? Why would she have run off into a storm?
I willed the boat to go faster, but the wind pushed against it so it took almost twice as long to cross. A voice came over the ship’s loudspeaker. “May I have your attention, please. Due to a power outage at our destination, the passenger ramp is not working. All passengers must go below and disembark on the auto deck.”
“It looks like it’s the middle of the night,” I said as we drove off, though it was only five o’clock. I thought about Archibald’s roast, waiting in the slow cooker. About the reverend’s ruined sermon. Our normally nice Sunday had turned as dark as the storm itself.
Except for the lone guy directing traffic, the ferry terminal was deserted. And when the few cars had dispersed, the road was deserted too. Our headlights washed over sprays of fir and cedar that littered the roadway. A few times Tony had to maneuver around larger branches. As he drove up the hospital’s long driveway, the cracking of a falling tree made me jump.
Errol sat up as we pulled up to the grand lodge. “How are you feeling?” I asked him.
He rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?”
“Harmony Hospital,” I told him. “Remember? We’re going to find my mom.”
“Right.” He smiled weakly.
A pair of police cars and a local news van were parked close to the entry. Two people sat in the van’s front seats. Tony grabbed a flashlight from his glove box and we all got out of the Jeep. The roar of a generator filled the air. Raindrops smacked into our faces as we hurried into the hospital’s lobby. We signed in at the security booth and got our visitor tags. The security guy searched us for cameras. “Can’t take any chances. That news crew has been here all afternoon.”
Most of the patients sat in the dining room playing games and eating somebody’s birthday cake. “We’re trying to keep everyone calm,” Dr. Merri explained after I told her who we were. “We only have power in the main wing of the hospital so most everyone has gathered here.” She ran a hand across her tired eyes, smudging the last bits of her mascara. “We haven’t found her yet.”
“Who’s looking?” I asked.
“The police chief sent a few men out, but he won’t let any of our staff help because of the wind and lightning.”
Errol stood in a shadowy corner, listening. Tony stood next to me, his arm pressing against mine. I glanced up at the lumber baron, whose painted eyes watched our every move. Do you know something? I wanted to ask him. Do you know where she is?
Dr. Merri cleared her throat. “Alice, someone leaked this to the press. They know your mother is being treated here and that she’s disappeared.”
“The press knows?” I asked, my mind racing.
Dr. Merri folded her arms and stood very straight. “We take the anonymity of our patients very seriously. If we find out who leaked this, we’ll have that person fired, I can promise you that.”
If my mother’s secret wasn’t already in print, it soon would be. “Mentally Ill Romance Writer Lost in Freak Summer Storm.” That would sell a million papers.
“It’s such a shame,” Dr. Merri said. “She had such a good morning. She was very talkative.”
“What?” My arms went slack and my purse straps slid halfway down. “My mother was talking?”<
br />
“Yes. Talking and eating. She even took a shower on her own. The medicine finally kicked in.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I said, taking an angry step toward her.
Dr. Merri’s cheeks turned red. “She didn’t want us to tell you, not yet. She wanted to surprise you on your Tuesday visit.”
Someone yelled “Bingo!” from the nearby dining room.
“Why don’t you and your friends go in and have some cake,” Dr. Merri suggested, motioning toward the well-lit room. I’ll let you know immediately if … when she’s found.” Then her pager buzzed and she hurried away.
“It’s really dark out there. We’re going to need a few more flashlights,” Tony said. “I’ll see if I can find some.”
“Okay.” In my panic, I hadn’t thought to bring any.
The medicine had kicked in. She’d showered on her own. She’d been talking. I couldn’t believe it. What I’d been wishing for had actually happened.
I started toward my mother’s room, then, remembering she’d been moved to a shared room, I changed direction. Errol followed me down the dark hallway. Emergency ceiling lights, small and dim, marked each room like dots on a map. I couldn’t remember the room number but I recognized the roommate’s family photos. The beds were neatly made, the bathroom tidy. My mother’s bathrobe and slippers were missing. “Why would she go out in a storm?” I asked. Was it some crazy hallucination? Some kind of manic urge to collect pinecones or fallen leaves? “The medicine is supposed to be working. What is she doing?”
Errol looked out the window toward the forest. Raindrops rolled down the panes. “She’s looking for something,” he said quietly.
A nurse entered, teary eyed and wringing her hands. I recognized her from previous visits. “I’m so sorry,” she told me. “It’s all my fault. I was on duty and I should have noticed her leaving. But one minute she was talking about her next book, and then she was gone. She went out the emergency exit. Our alarms don’t work when the power’s out.”
For a moment I held my breath. “She was talking about her next book?”
“I’m such a big fan. I’ve read all her books. And I was so happy when she started talking to me this morning. She said she was going to write a book about the lumber baron. She said she’d been looking at his portrait every day and she felt like his love story needed to be told. She asked me to get her a spiral notebook, so I did.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“She said that she hated the ending to the lumber baron’s story and that she was going to change it and give him a happy ending. When I left to check on other patients, she was writing in the notebook.”
I looked around. “Where is it?”
The nurse shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she took it with her.” A pager buzzed at the nurse’s waist. “I’d better go.” She hurried from the room.
“Oh my God, I know what my mother is doing,” I said as Errol sat on the bed. The words flew from my mouth, my lips barely able to keep up. “She’s doing research for her story. The lumber baron’s wife went for a walk during a storm, right here on this property. That’s what my mother’s doing. She’s doing research, seeing what the forest is like during a storm, seeing the scene from the wife’s point of view. That’s why she’s out there.”
“That makes sense.” His voice was quiet. I moved close to him, trying to get a better view of his face in the dim light. His upper lip was sweaty and his breathing quick. He suddenly grimaced, as if someone had stabbed him.
“You should have stayed home,” I said. “You should be resting.”
“I’m sick of resting. I’m sick of being sick.”
I sat next to him. “We can go to a different doctor. I’ll help take care of you. There’s got to be something.” I held on to the front of his hoodie as if we were both being pulled under. “I don’t understand, Errol. Why can’t the gods help you?”
“They have helped me,” he said. “They’re finally letting me die.” He unclenched my fingers then wrapped his icy hands over my own. His gaze moved quickly from my left eye to my right, back and forth, back and forth as if searching for something. Was he confused again, like when he’d held me in his arms and called me his wife? Was he seeing me, or seeing Psyche?
Then he let go of my hands and slowly stood. “Let’s go find your mother.”
Halfway down the hall we ran into Tony. He’d found two more flashlights in a janitor’s closet. Gripping the cold plastic, I traced my mother’s steps and opened the emergency exit door. Sideways rain pelted me as I ran my flashlight beam along the edge of the woods. “There,” I said, shining the light on a narrow trail. The trail had been marked with yellow tape.
“Looks like the police already searched that trail,” Tony said.
I ran the beam along the woods again. “I don’t see any other trail and this one’s right here, right by the exit. I think she’d take this trail.”
The air was humid in the forest, and the trees blocked much of the rain. They blocked the wind, too, but it still whistled overhead. I walked quickly, the guys following, our three flashlights lighting the way. “I think she’s in her bathrobe,” I said. “It’s blue. Perwinkle blue.”
After about fifteen minutes the trail ended at a field of stumps. Either the lumber baron hadn’t replanted this part of the forest or the trees had been felled since his death. Yellow tape hung at the trail’s end. “They searched here too,” Tony said.
“MOM!” I yelled into the field. I yelled again and again. A flash of lightning flooded the field in a moment of brilliance. A clap of thunder sounded.
“This is really dangerous,” Tony said to me. “I think you should go back to the hospital and wait.”
“I agree,” Errol said.
But I’d already started across the field, winding around stumps covered in ferns and moss. Without the tree coverage, rain ran down my face and neck. “Alice.” Tony caught up to me. “If your mom wanted to go for a walk, why would she turn off the trail?”
“She was doing research for her next book,” I told him. I had no idea where I was going, just following a hunch. The police had searched the trail, but Mom wanted to experience the forest. I tried to remember the story. “The wife was killed by a falling tree. And the lumber baron went mad and spent the rest of his life planting trees. Then one night he didn’t return and …” I stopped. We’d come to a rocky ledge that dipped gradually into a patch of young trees, planted in perfect rows. “His butler found him in a cave. That’s what she’s looking for.” I cupped my hands around my mouth. “MOM!” I yelled. “MOM!” Rain ran down my coat sleeves.
“We should go that way,” Errol said, pointing.
“What makes you think it’s that way?” Tony asked. None of us had brought coats. His wet T-shirt clung to his chest. Raindrops rolled down his glasses.
“Because it’s a natural path,” Errol said, aiming his flashlight beam along the ledge.
Tony nodded. “Okay, I see what you’re saying.”
With Errol in the lead, we followed the ledge. Branches swayed overhead, lightning flashed in the distance, followed by rolling thunder. We climbed down into a creek bed that would have been dry in the middle of July if it hadn’t been for the freak storm. Water trickled over the rocks and seeped into my tennis shoes. Rain leaked between my eyelashes and into my eyes. I stumbled on a few loose rocks. The creek cut deeper into the landscape, with boulders here and there. “MOM!” I called again and again. Errol kept the lead with a sudden burst of energy that surprised me. Then he stopped. Tony and I caught up.
“Do you see something?” I asked, almost bumping into him.
Errol didn’t say anything. He stood very still, staring into space, blinking away the rain as it dropped into his eyes. His flashlight slid from his hand and cracked on the rocks. Then he looked from me to Tony and back to me. “Errol?” I said. “What’s wrong?”
He shivered. I reached out to take his arm but he pulled away. “What ar
e you doing with him?” he asked, his tone as cold as the rain. I recognized the confused look in his eyes. “Why do you do this to me, Psyche? Why do you choose these other men when I’m gone?”
“Errol—”
He glared at Tony. “You don’t deserve her,” he said, his eyes narrow with rage. “I’ve protected her. I’ve taken care of her.”
“What are you talking about?” Tony asked.
Errol had drifted back to another time and place. I knew the story, so I could see it in his eyes. The woods had faded away. The rush of the wind became the rush of the ocean. We stood in our palace at the edge of the sea. My tunic blew in the breeze. His white hair glowed the way it used to. He turned to me, his words pleading. “Why do you bring these men into our home? Into our lives? Every time I go away there’s another one. Why?”
These men. Psyche had taken lovers. He’d kept that part of the story to himself.
“I won’t stand for it,” he cried. Then his hands flew into their magical dance, folding the air like clay, molding it into an arrow.
“NO!” I yelled as the wind picked up. “Errol, stop it.”
“He can’t have you,” he said through angry tears that mixed with rain. “You’re mine. You belong to me.”
“Errol.” I grabbed his arm again but he flung me aside. Tony caught me as I stumbled backward.
“Hey,” Tony yelled at him. “What’s the matter with you?”
Errol extended his left arm. He pulled his right hand to his chin and pointed it at Tony. This was not going to happen. Not again. I slid from Tony’s hands and with all my strength I threw myself at Errol.
“Please stop,” I begged him, trying to release his arms from their frozen pose. But I couldn’t move them. How could someone so sick be so strong? “Errol, it’s me, Alice. Please don’t hurt Tony. Please.”
Mad Love Page 22
