Stardust: A Novel

by Carla Stewart

  Oblivious to his question and those who’d gathered, the guttural sounds continued, neither more nor less as Peter touched her arm, her back, her legs. When he tried to move her head, though, a high-pitched scream pierced the air. “Georgia, call the ambulance. I’m afraid to move her, and she’s burning up with fever. Was she ill when you checked her in?”

  I told him what Ludi had said, about Fiona’s accident in the rain and that she had a headache. “Do you think she could be in labor? Is the baby in danger?”

  “I have no way of knowing, but it doesn’t seem to be the baby. Do you know her name?”

  I told him, her name like a cancer on my tongue. Then I raced to the office and called the operator, requested the ambulance.

  In the doorway to the quarters, Rosey stood, rubbing her eyes. “I had a scary dream. People were screaming.”

  “I don’t think it was a dream, sugar. One of our guests has fallen. That’s what you heard. I’ve called the ambulance. Now I want you to be brave and stay here in the office and watch Avril. You can look out the window, but do not, under any circumstances, come outside. It’s dark, and there are a lot of people out there. I’ll see if MeMaw can come over and stay with you. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Mommy. Why are you shaking?”

  “Because the lady is very sick and needs to go to the hospital. I’m worried, but I have to go now.”

  A half-dozen people milled around outside, including Mary Frances. I ran to her, gave her a brief rundown of what happened, and asked her to sit with the girls and listen for the phone.

  Fiona remained on the floor when I went into the cottage, Peter and Mr. Overstreet kneeling beside her, two or three others hovering nearby. Her face was waxy pale except for flaming circles on her cheeks, which I attributed to the fever.

  I wet a washcloth and knelt beside her. “Fiona, it’s going to be all right. Help is on the way, and we’ll take care of your little girl. Is there someone I can call?”

  No response, only jerky, trembly movements with the groaning. The man with the doorknob ears stood a few feet away, arms crossed. “Betcha anything she’s got the polio.”

  His wife argued that it looked like an epileptic fit.

  Someone else scoffed. “It wouldn’t surprise me none if she got drunk and fell down.”

  I glared at the man who’d spoken. “Excuse me, but I’m sure that’s not the case. She wasn’t feeling well earlier in the day.”

  Mr. Overstreet was the only one who remained calm. He felt her pulse, took a small flashlight from his pocket, and shone it in her eyes.

  Doorknob Ears said, “You mean to tell me you let sick people check in here with all the talk on the radio about the outbreak of polio? If I’d known, we’d have been happy to find another place to stay.”

  Peter looked up. “That’s enough from all of you. If you’re not going to be of some help here, please stand outside. Georgia didn’t do anything intentional, and for you to be supposing this and that when we don’t know what’s wrong is a waste of time.”

  The air in the room felt lighter when the gawkers left, but the insinuations remained an unspoken whisper in the room. Polio. Infantile paralysis.

  The cloth in my hand had already turned warm from the few moments I held it on Fiona’s forehead. Peter offered to rewet it while I continued to kneel. “Fiona, please listen to me. You have a fever. We need to let your family know you’re sick, that you need them. I can call them for you if you tell me their names or where they live.”

  Nothing.

  And in the next instant, the wail of the ambulance and its swirling colors were upon us. Sheriff Sonny Bolander entered the cottage first, which threw me off momentarily, until I realized I couldn’t remember if I’d told the operator it was a medical emergency and not a wreck or some such. Behind Sonny were Les and Victor, the same two who’d hauled Mary Frances to the hospital the night of the fire. They tried to elicit the same information from Fiona as we had, with the same measure of success. Her moans had turned to whimpers, and from the spot where Peter, who now held Bonnie in his arms, and I huddled against the wall, it appeared to me Fiona might be losing consciousness.

  Oh, dear God, reach down and rescue us from this terrible situation.

  My silent prayers, though, seemed as frail as Fiona Callahan strapped to the stretcher, and as they wheeled her away, I wondered if that was the last I’d see of her. Death seemed but a heartbeat away, and its snare twisted inside me, a double-pronged hook like the knot I already had for O’Dell. A part of me wished her gone from my life forever. Another part wept for this poor woman and Bonnie, who watched as her mother was lifted into the ambulance, perhaps never to return.

  Sheriff Bolander broke the muddle of my thoughts. “Georgia, you will need to go to the hospital to provide information since you were the last person to talk with her before she became ill.”

  “I’m sure I have nothing to add. I would prefer for you take her information—” I scanned the room, hoping to find a handbag, and was relieved when I spotted a shoulder bag with mud caked on it sitting on the nightstand. I grabbed it. “Here, take this. She and the child didn’t have any luggage as they abandoned their car when it got stuck in the mud. She was hoping to get a good night’s sleep, see about the car, and then be on her way. Surely any information you need is in there.”

  He eyed me. “Something is fishy about this whole deal. Your aunt Cora was right. You ain’t got no business running a blasted inn out here on the highway. For all you know, this woman is a fugitive runnin’ from the law, and you’re caught in the crosshairs. Where’s her car?”

  Peter stepped forward. “Pardon the interruption, but Georgia only did what any decent human being would’ve done under the circumstances. I’m sure you’d have done the same in a similar situation. I’d be happy to go with you to the hospital to be of whatever service I can. This woman’s current illness should be the priority here.”

  Bonnie’s long legs wrapped around Peter’s waist, her arms around his neck. She hadn’t spoken since her first cry for help. I held out my arms to her. “Would you like to come with me? I can get you a cookie and a glass of milk while these men and the doctors take care of your mommy.”

  She eyed the sheriff and Peter, then let me take her. “I want my momma.”

  “I know you do, sugar, but she needs to be in the hospital tonight.”

  Sheriff Bolander frowned. “Maybe she should come with me. If the momma can’t talk, this child might be the only source of information we got.”

  “I hardly think the hospital is the place for a child. If she says anything to me, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll have to notify the authorities if something happens to the momma and we got an orphan on our hands.”

  “What a horrible thing to say. Go on. You and Peter, go to the hospital. And please call when you find out how Mrs. Callahan is.” I marched past them, carrying Bonnie. “Let’s go, sugar, and get you a snack.”

  Mr. Overstreet offered to see Mary Frances home after I gave her a brief rundown. I didn’t want to alarm Bonnie by saying too much; the poor child was already terrified. And it was certainly not the time to tell Mary Frances that the woman who’d become ill was her dead son’s mistress.

  A gentle knock came at the door during the night.

  Peter poked his head in when I said, “Come in.” Bonnie slept curled in my lap, her thin fingers entwined in a lock of my hair. Her soft, even breaths held a scent of sweet milk, her tangled hair as pale as a dandelion puff, her dress wrinkled and spattered with mud.

  Peter lifted her gently from my arms and followed me into the quarters, where I turned back the covers on my bed. He eased her into bed, felt her forehead with the back of his hand. A simple action, yet tender. Worried, perhaps, that she might be carrying the same thing as Fiona. I bit my lip, not mentioning it as the two of us returned to the office.

  I willed myself to remain calm, hoping the hammering of my heart wouldn’t be apparent
to Peter. “How was Fiona? Any idea what’s wrong?”

  “It’s bad news, I’m afraid.”

  I gripped the counter. “How bad? She’s still alive, isn’t she?”

  “Alive, but gravely ill. Polio. Doc Kelley did the spinal test to make sure. She’s delirious, barely able to breathe. They’re sending her to Tyler, which is the nearest hospital with an iron lung.”

  “Oh, my.” The room swirled like my stomach. “I think I need to sit down.” I backed up and sank into the rocker where I’d held Fiona’s unsuspecting, innocent child.

  “Sheriff asked if you would mind keeping the girl until he finds her kinfolk.”

  “Of course. So he found information in her handbag?”

  Peter pulled over a straight-backed chair, the only other seat in the office, swung it around, and straddled it with his arms resting on the back. “Not much. There was an Arkansas driver’s license, but it expired a couple of years back, and it only had a box number. I forget what town. He said he’d start checking in the morning.”

  “Arkansas? Are you sure?” Could there be two Fiona Callahans? O’Dell might’ve been secretive about his meanderings, but I was nearly certain he hadn’t ventured all the way to Arkansas.

  “That’s what was on the license. Perhaps she was traveling when she slid off the muddy road. I’ll see if Ludi can tell me more tomorrow.”

  “We need to find her family. The poor child’s scared to death.”

  “The sheriff found a couple other items in the purse.” He shifted his weight and took a deep breath. “A set of dog tags and a couple of photos.”

  “Dog tags, as in military?”

  “U.S. Army. The sheriff will run a check on them. One of the photos was of a man in fatigues—also army, not a good-quality photo. Looked an awful lot like some of the ones I sent my folks when I was in Korea. I’m guessing it could be her husband. Course it could be a brother since there was a more recent photo with a man holding Bonnie, and it looked like Fiona was pregnant.”

  The room spun faster. The photo would tell the story, but even with the thread of hope that this was not O’Dell’s Fiona, I knew in my gut it was. I closed my eyes and swallowed.

  “Georgia, are you all right? You’ve turned a little green around the gills.”

  “I’m tired, but to answer your question, no, I’m not all right. Not even close. I’m scared.”

  “Everyone is. The doctor said it’s the first case here in town. I thought he was anxious to get her placed somewhere else. And it’s not good news for the Stardust.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Any public places where polio victims have been come under scrutiny. I’m not trying to alarm you, but your sheriff said he would be conducting a full investigation.”

  “You don’t think he would close the Stardust?” My anger toward O’Dell and fear for Fiona now turned into a cloud of doom.

  “I’ve no way of knowing. But he will alert the Department of Health.”

  “What a mess.”

  “There’s no use worrying tonight. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

  My limbs felt as heavy as concrete blocks, and carrying around the knowledge that I was connected to Fiona in a bizarre turn of events only added to the weight. The urge to blurt it all out to Peter surfaced, like somehow it would ease the burden.

  Trust him. Keeping the truth about O’Dell and Fiona would serve no useful purpose. Even Mary Frances needed to know. Perhaps if I had Peter to lean on, telling her would be easier.

  Peter rose from the chair and offered a hand to help me up. “Tomorrow will be better.”

  Taking his hand, I rose. “I’m not so sure. There’s something I haven’t told you, and I’m not sure I should even do so…”

  “About what?”

  “Fiona Callahan.”

  “Did she tell you something?”

  “No. I’m not sure it has any bearing, but I’m nearly certain she came to Musgrave County on purpose.”

  “How could you know that? Did you know her?”

  I nodded. “Of her. My life has been a tangled mess for quite some time. You came onto the scene when I thought things might be headed the other way, that somehow I would get the threads straightened out.”

  “You lost me there. What could this possibly have to do with this stranger who checked in to the Stardust?”

  Bracing myself, I looked into Peter’s questioning eyes. “Fiona Callahan had an affair with my husband. He’d already left me and the girls when Catfish found his body in the swamps near Zion. I think she came to find O’Dell.”

  His eyes widened. “Sweet mother of pearl. You’ve been carrying this around not telling anyone?”

  “My aunt Cora and Sally knew why O’Dell left me. The whole town’s known for ages O’Dell was a womanizer. I kept hoping…”

  “I am so sorry. I thought your reluctance to talk about your husband was due to grief.”

  “Grief comes in many colors. What O’Dell did to me is over and done with. But now…”

  “You can’t change the past.”

  I laughed. “You sound like Aunt Cora. I’m sorry to bother you with all of this; I thought it would be easier if I told someone.”

  Peter stepped toward me, hands on my shoulders. “Until this moment, I didn’t know why God brought me to the Stardust. Now I know. I’m as dense as a fence post, evidently.”

  “Now I don’t follow what you mean.”

  “I’m nothing but a drifter. I figgered you knew that when you hired me. That I’d be here and gone before you could whistle Dixie. What I didn’t plan on was getting attached to this place. And you.”

  My eyes burned with tears or weariness, I wasn’t sure which, but either way, I couldn’t grasp what he was saying. He felt sorry for me after what I’d confided in him. Pure and simple. After a good night’s sleep he would realize he’d made a mistake, might even decide that staying here was unhealthy. I bent my head so I couldn’t see his face, but he tilted my chin with his fingers.

  “Georgia, sometimes you have to lay out a claim, drive a stake, and put your life on the line no matter what. I have a feeling you’ve done that here at the Stardust. Took a risk and worked for something you cared about.”

  “A lot of good it did me.”

  “I doubt you’ll let one setback stop you.” His eyes clouded, as if he wasn’t sure what to say next.

  Goose bumps skittered down my arms, but I kept my gaze on him. “Just because you’re from Georgia doesn’t mean you have to slow dance around what you’re trying to say.”

  His hands cradled my face and neck, his breath warm and close. “I want to get to know you better, help you out with this crisis. You’ve been hurt, but I realized something in San Antonio. Life is short. Too short to spend it drifting around the country. I’d like to drive my stake in Mayhaw. Get a job, put down some roots, and see what happens.”

  He kissed the tip of my nose, then drew me into his arms and held me.

  When he kissed the top of my head, the hot tears I’d held at bay slid down my cheeks. My arms slid around his waist, and I told myself to be careful, that getting attached was dangerous, and love might be lethal.

  Don’t get too close.

  People leave.

  My heart, though, didn’t get the message.

  [ CHAPTER 25 ]

  While wrapped in Peter’s arms, I remembered O’Dell’s journal with his sales list. I hadn’t wanted to know at the time who the other woman was, but now I needed to learn more so I could get Bonnie reunited with her family. It was also a good excuse to get away from Peter before I got caught up in something I would later regret.

  Peter waited while I went into the quarters to retrieve O’Dell’s briefcase. We found Fiona’s name with Kilgore written beside it, but no street address. It wasn’t much, but Peter offered to relay the information.

  The earlier moment of tenderness fled, and I was glad of it. Concentrating on Bonnie took priority, and with luck, she would soon be on
her way. Hopefully, people would forget that the Stardust had birthed Mayhaw’s first case of polio. I prayed it was the only one.

  Morning came way too soon, and I felt disoriented when Rosey shook me awake from where I’d slept on the divan. “Morning, Momma. Time to get up.” Three jam-covered smiles hovered over me.

  “Morning to you, too. I see you’ve met Bonnie. And made breakfast, too.”

  “I toasted the bread, but Bonnie spread on the butter and jelly. Is Bonnie staying here now?”

  A fleeting memory pinched my stomach. Something in one of the brochures Aunt Cora had given me on infantile paralysis. The infection can spread through any hand-to-mouth contact. Thorough hand washing is imperative.

  Jelly smudges on the girls’ fingers and chins. I’d seen how my girls spread jelly on toast before, licking their fingers and the spoon. A vision of millions of polio germs being licked and spread and swallowed made me want to throw up. I leapt from the divan and herded the girls to the kitchen sink.

  “Let’s get your hands and faces washed.” With water as hot as I dared, I lathered soap on each girl’s hands in turn and held them under the faucet, willing whatever germs might have lingered down the drain. Separate washcloths for their faces. Then I marched them into the living room and told them to sit.

  “Girls, I know we’ve talked about this before, but I’m going to tell you something very important. You cannot drink after each other. You may not use the same forks or spoons. You know you have to wash your hands when you go to the bathroom, but now it’s more important than ever.”

  Rosey bounced on the divan, a sassy look on her face. “I know all this. We did the germ rules every day at school.”

  “Good. I’m glad you know them. You can help Avril and Bonnie remember. It’s very important.”

  “You said that. Can we go outside and play?”

  “We need to help Bonnie with a bath and see if she can wear one of the dresses you’ve outgrown. We want her to look nice when her family comes to get her.”

  Bonnie, who sat with her hands between her legs, looked at me, her lower lip trembling. “When’s my momma coming back?”