The Lover’s Knot
Page 15
Susanne tilted her head slightly, as if wondering whether to answer. "I suppose he did. My guess is that whoever killed him was just trying to protect someone they loved. And can you really find anything wrong in that?"
She looked up at the house as the light in my bedroom went on. I looked up too and saw the shadow of Ryan moving around the room.
CHAPTER 36
The next morning I got up early and took Barney for his walk. Only this time I didn't take him toward the river. I walked into town and let the confused dog follow me.
I stopped in front of the shop and tried the door. It was locked. A strip of police tape covered the lock, brown paper covered the windows. It seemed abandoned and unloved.
I didn't really know what I was looking for, but I couldn't leave. I only knew that Susanne's words echoed in my mind. If someone had killed Marc to protect someone, was that really so bad? What good would it do for anyone to know? But if it was Ryan, was it okay that he might have killed a man to protect our relationship? I knew the answer was no. I knew what the real question was. Could I live with him if I didn't know?
"What are you doing?"
I turned around to see a minivan. Natalie was waving at me from the driver's seat.
"I haven't the vaguest idea," I admitted.
"Then I'll drive you guys home."
I didn't want the company, but I did have a question.
After putting Barney in the back, I jumped in Natalie's car, pushing aside baby toys, pacifiers, a carton of diapers and a CD called Jammin' with Baby with a picture of a toddler rocking out on a play guitar. I smiled and said, "How adorable." But as Natalie moved in her seat and sat on a juice box, I had one of those moments that single people have when we feel slightly smarter for not having reproduced.
"He's getting really cute," Natalie told me as she brushed off the juice from her jeans. "My husband says now that he's past the poop and sleep stage, he's getting to be good company."
"Your son, right? Not your husband."
She laughed. "No, my husband is still in the poop and sleep stage."
"Where is your son?"
"At my mom's. She kept him for me last night. I was on my way to pick him up." Natalie was beaming. "Do you mind if I pick him up before I drop you guys off?"
I did mind, but I figured it would give us time to talk, so I shook my head.
Natalie kept talking. But it wasn't so much that she was talking to me, just talking to herself about her good fortune. I recognized it from the way I used to talk about the wedding. Jabbering on and on about details no one but you cares about, expecting the world to be fascinated. Listening to Natalie, I realized how annoying I must have been.
"He's really brought us closer-Jeremy, my son," she continued, as I half-smiled. "He's turned us into grown-ups. We used to have all these stupid fights, and break up and get back together, but now we're solid." She gripped the wheel. "I never want to lose that."
"You won't," I said, with the reassurance only a stranger can give. "Jeremy's not going anywhere."
She looked straight at me for a long second. It made me nervous enough to look toward the road and make sure we weren't headed into oncoming traffic. But just as I was about to say something, Natalie turned her eyes forward.
I wanted to ask her about Jesse, her history with Marc. But I didn't want her driving off the road. So I said, as gingerly as possible, "Marc's death seems to have stirred a lot of emotions in everyone."
She nodded. "Almost there." She ignored my comment, responding with the same cheery tone she'd had at my grandmother's shop.
We pulled into the driveway of a modest frame bungalow, much the same as the others on the block. The only thing that separated the house from its neighbors-and it was a big thing-was the bright purple door.
Susanne walked outside with Jeremy in her arms.
"Hey, sweetie, I brought you this," Natalie said, waving a small green dog. Jeremy's tiny hands reached out for the stuffed animal as if it were a long lost friend. And Natalie reached for her son, grabbing him and holding him tightly as if it had been weeks since they'd been together.
At Susanne's urging, we left Barney in the car and went inside for coffee and freshly made pumpkin doughnuts, which prompted me to say, "Who makes doughnuts from scratch?"
"Not me, honey," Susanne laughed. "I make quilts. Jeremy and I took a walk to the bakery this morning. Your grandmother is the one who tries to do it all. My guess is she's trying to make you over in her image."
"Well then," I laughed, "it will be the first thing she fails at."
"I don't know. You remind me of Eleanor," Natalie said and turned to Susanne, who nodded in agreement. "You have her absolute sense of right and wrong."
"That can get you into trouble." Susanne leaned in to me.
The small dining room we sat in opened onto an equally small living room. Both rooms were as overdone as Susanne's makeup. Gilded mirrors hung on nearly every wall and dozens of family photos filled almost every available shelf. There were several black-and-white photos of Susanne at what must have been beauty pageants many years before, some of Natalie, and what amounted to a shrine of baby Jeremy.
An ornately carved wood coffee table sat in the center of the room. It had been painted gold, with postcards glued to the top and covered by a scratched piece of glass. An old plaid couch next to it was draped with a red, black and white check quilt. Three cats were happily sleeping on the quilt and on the purple throw pillows that dotted the couch.
Across the room a large dog sat chewing a bone next to an elaborately decorated artificial Christmas tree. I kept staring at it, trying to figure out what, aside from the fact that it was September, made the tree seem so odd.
"I leave it up all year long," said Susanne, with pride. "I know people think I'm silly, but it makes me happy, and Jeremy gets a kick out of it too."
"No, I think it's great," I said. "Very festive."
"She changes the decorations for each holiday," said Natalie.
I took this as permission to examine it closer, and realized that little skeletons, witches, and pumpkins-many of them handmade-had been carefully hung from the branches.
"Halloween," I said in an uncomfortable moment of obviousness.
"My favorite holiday," said Susanne.
"They're all her favorite," laughed Natalie.
"Jeremy's going to be a pumpkin," Susanne told me. "I'm making his costume myself."
"He's going to be a bumblebee, Mom," Natalie sighed. "I told you that."
"A pumpkin is so much more in keeping with the theme," Susanne argued, and scooped up Jeremy from his high chair.
"He needs to eat," Natalie objected.
"Oh, he's fine. He's a big strong boy," cooed Susanne.
Since they seemed to forget about me, I stood back and watched the way the two women doted over the little boy. He seemed to take it for granted, the way only children can, that he was the center of the universe.
But there was something odd too. It was almost as if Susanne didn't trust her daughter with Jeremy. Maybe it was something a lot of mothers felt when they saw their own children struggle with parenthood. But it was clearly a source of frustration for Natalie.
"You should get Nell home," Susanne said, just as Natalie had wrested Jeremy from her arms. Susanne kissed the small boy on his head, and lingered close to him for what seemed to be a dramatically long time. Especially since she saw him nearly every day.
"Susanne," I turned as we were leaving, "have you talked to Jesse?"
"About what, dear?" She blinked innocently at me.
I smiled. Were we really going to play a game? "I was just wondering who he'd spoken to about… what happened at the shop."
She nodded. "Oh, yes. He did talk to me."
"What did he ask you?"
"Nothing special. I suppose he's talked to everyone in town now."
"But last night you seemed to think it was someone who was trying to protect someone. Did you have someone in mind?"
I nodded, and smiled, as if I did know that.
CHAPTER 37
As I walked through the front door of the house, I heard a thud. Barney started barking and ran ahead of me. Another thud.
I ran into the living room.
Eleanor was standing in the middle of the room, balancing on her crutches. A table was knocked over and the lightbulb of a lamp was blinking on and off. Barney jumped around barking excitedly.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. That's enough," Eleanor said repeatedly. "Calm down, you silly dog. You'd think the house was on fire."
"What happened?"
"I knocked over a table with my crutch," she said in frustration. "Honestly, this is so annoying."
I picked up the lamp and the table and grabbed Barney's collar. "Wait for me," I said to my grandmother. I walked the dog to the kitchen door and pushed him out. "I'm sorry, sweetie, you're upsetting Grandma right now." I headed back to the living room, but Eleanor was already hobbling toward the kitchen.
"What a way to start the day," she said brightly. She dropped into a chair and put her injured leg up on another. "So, you're up early. What were you doing?"
"I took Barney for a walk into town."
"Walks are good for thinking."
"I'm not sure how much thinking I did, except about how hungryI was. And with you taking over the diner, there's no place in this town to get a really greasy breakfast." I poured my grandmother a cup of coffee and after making one for myself I sat down at the table with her.
"What are you sitting down for? There's still one place in town to get a good breakfast, but I don't want it greasy."
"Where's that?" I looked at her for several seconds before I realized what her stare meant. I laughed. "What, me? You want my famous muffins again?"
"How about pancakes?"
"I don't know how to make pancakes. I know how to make frozen waffles."
"Well, you'll learn how to make pancakes today."
"Susanne mentioned that you were trying to turn me into a version of you." I laughed. "Well, it won't work."
She rolled her eyes. "You eat, don't you? I don't know why people go around talking about how independent they are and then don't know how to take care of themselves in the most basic way. Get out the griddle."
Then she began pointing to cabinets and drawers, and before I knew it, I was digging out a griddle and mixing pancake batter from scratch. By the time the griddle had heated and the first batch was finished, Ryan was walking in the kitchen.
"First muffins, now this," he said, smiling broadly. "I could get used to all this domesticity."
"Well, don't," I laughed. "Unless you want to make them for yourself."
"How about we switch off? I'll do every other Sunday," he said as he dug into his breakfast. I let the comment pass. No point in continually bringing up my ambivalence.
"Modern marriage," Eleanor said. "Too bad I'm not fifty years younger."
"Well, I could probably fix you up with a couple of guys I know who like a more mature woman," Ryan joked.
"I'm too much trouble for any sane man," she said. "Nell can tell you."
"Yes, I can," I offered.
Eleanor winked at me. "So what's on the agenda for today?"
"I have to go to the shop," I said. "Remember, we're doing construction today."
"I know that," she said. "And Ryan, what are you doing to keep yourself busy?"
"Actually, I was thinking that I might head back to the city today," Ryan said quickly.
"Since when?" I looked at him, but he was looking at his pancakes. "Saturday you said you were going to stick around for a while."
"And you were none too happy about it, if I remember," he said.
"That was different."
"Exactly."
The last of the pancakes were burning on the griddle, but I couldn't take my eyes off Ryan. "I don't get it. Why leave now?"
I could feel Eleanor getting antsy, being in the middle of it, but with her broken leg she wasn't going to get out of the room fast, so she sat there. I knew she was trying her best not to interfere, but it would only be a matter of time. I looked to her for help, but she just shrugged and nodded toward Ryan.
"Don't we have a lot to talk about?" I asked Ryan.
He dug into his pancakes and with his mouth half full answered me. "I was thinking that I'm going to have to take some time off for the honeymoon. So it's better if I don't take days off now."
"Have we decided there's going to be a honeymoon? I thought we were just talking about it."
Barney whimpered at the door and Ryan jumped up to let him in. Eleanor gave me a look that said "Give him a break," and I sighed heavily in response.
"It makes sense that you should go back to work," I said to Ryan, but I looked straight at Eleanor.
"I'll head out as soon as we're done with breakfast," he said. "I'll drop you off at the shop." He kissed me and practically ran from the room.
"What was that about?" I said to my grandmother the minute Ryan was gone.
"Maybe it's exactly what he said. He doesn't want to take too much time off work."
I nodded. "Maybe."
"You know, if you have this much doubt…," she started.
"I know." I was about to say that I should talk to Ryan about my feelings when the pancakes still on the griddle started to smoke.
An hour later, Nancy arrived, exactly on time. She had a package for me-scissors, a pencil, a plastic pattern of a simple flower and scraps of colorful hand-dyed fabrics.
"It shouldn't take long," she said, "but it's a tremendous help if we're going to meet Eleanor's deadline."
"I hope I do this right," I said, staring at the package.
"Whatever you do, it will be exactly right," Nancy said with a smile. "You have no idea the joy it gives your grandmother and me to pass this tradition on to you." She gave me a quick hug and with it the confidence to make my small contribution to the quilt.
"I'll find a quiet space at the shop to cut these," I promised, as Ryan and I left.
CHAPTER 38
On the drive to the shop, Ryan and I held hands and smiled a lot, but we talked little. When we pulled in front of Someday Quilts, he leaned over and kissed me passionately. I kissed back, but with less enthusiasm than I'd ever kissed him before. I got out of the car. Leaving felt like another decision he'd made without consulting me, but rather than being angry, I felt a little relieved. There was something that I really needed to do and I realized it would be better if Ryan wasn't around to get in my way.
I headed over to the shop as Tom was loading in.
"You don't need me babysitting you?" I asked.
"Not really, but you're welcome to stay if that's what your grandmother wants."
"Let's just say I did."
"Keeping secrets from your grandmother?" he said. "That seems risky." He smiled and went back to getting his tools from the truck.
I walked up the street until I was sure I was alone. I dialed information on my cell phone.
"I'm looking for a Dr. Parnell in Archers Rest, New York."
The computer on the other end connected me to a doctor's office, and a receptionist gave me a quick appointment when I impliedI might be pregnant and was concerned about some heavy cramping.
I walked straight over to the medical center, about a half mile from the center of town. I was reading a year-old Good Housekeeping when I heard a concerned voice say my name.
I looked up to see Jesse standing in front of me.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine. I just have a doctor's appointment."
"When did you make it?" He looked at me suspiciously.
"Recently."
A nurse walked into the waiting r
oom. "Nell Fitzgerald."
"That's me," I said, and got up. Jesse grabbed my arm.
"How recently?"
I took a deep breath. "This morning."
He let go of my arm. "What are you doing?"
The nurse came over. "Are you ready, miss?"
"Yes," I said.
"We're going in together," Jesse said.
"Are you the husband?"
He looked at the nurse. "Let's just say we want to do this together."
Dr. Parnell was a man in his early sixties, with a thick head of snow-white hair and silver-rimmed glasses. His office had a full wall of baby pictures, as well as charts on the female reproductive system.
"What week are you in?" Parnell said to me.
"What week of what?" Jesse interrupted impatiently.
"Pregnancy." Parnell looked at me. "Do I have the wrong chart?"
"No," I said weakly. I moved slightly down my chair in the hopes of disappearing.
Jesse, who was on the verge of saying something the entire walk to the doctor's office, now seemed to be stunned into silence. I thought briefly about keeping up the charade, but I knew it wouldn't last through an examination. And, quite frankly, I wasn't prepared for that level of undercover work.
"I'm not, actually," I stammered. "I just wanted to talk to you about Marc Reed. Do you know who he is?"
"Yes, I know who he is. Or was. The young man who was killed over the weekend." The doctor leaned back in his chair.
"Look, she doesn't belong here." Jesse gave me a long hard look. "But I don't want to waste time arresting her for impeding a police investigation right now. She's here, and I'm here, because Marc Reed had an appointment with you on Thursday."
"I remember. Quite unusual, as you can imagine."
"What did he want?"
The doctor sighed. "Despite the appointment, he wasn't a patient, so I suppose there is no doctor-patient confidentiality." He leaned forward. "I know Marc's father, Dr. Michael Reed. He's a good man who has suffered a terrible loss. I don't want to hurt him by helping you."
"If you help me find Marc's killer, then you're helping his father, " Jesse said.