They were on first-name terms already.
“He sure is good looking.”
“Who? Richard?”
She nodded, her expression far away, a slight smile crossing her lips. “He seems real nice. Like he’s got a gentle way.”
“He does have a good bedside manner,” I agreed warily.
“How long has he been married?”
“Since the end of June.”
She counted the months off on her fingers. “Five months—not long at all.”
“What exactly is wrong with—” I still had trouble using the title. “—Dad?” I asked impatiently.
“He’s having trouble breathing. He said he had pains in his chest. I tried to talk him out of going to Aunt Ruby’s yesterday, but he was determined.”
“He’s pretty much house-bound?”
She nodded. “He’s hardly been out at all lately, except to go to the clinic. Elena usually takes him.” She changed the subject. “Richard looks different than he did the other day. Kind of hunky.” That wistful smile was back.
“It’s the coat.” I hoped she caught the meaning behind my deadpanned words.
Patty frowned, and looked away.
We ignored each other for several long minutes until Richard came out—much sooner than I’d anticipated.
“I’m going to call for an ambulance,” he said. “Your father needs to be in a hospital until we can stabilize him.”
“Is he going to be all right?” Patty asked.
Richard frowned. “I don’t foresee any great improvement. Emphysema is a progressive illness.”
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?”
“Let’s not anticipate anything. And we don’t want to upset him. Can I use the phone?”
“It’s in the kitchen,” she said and pointed the way.
Richard left us to make his call.
Patty’s face had gone pale. “I—I guess I’d better go pack a bag for him.” Dazed, she nearly bumped into a chair on her way out.
I turned, shoved my hands in my pockets and stared out the window at the bleak sky. A dull ache of foreboding settled in my gut. The air, stale with sickness, seemed to grow heavy. We were going through the motions of prolonging the old man’s life, though all of us knew the inevitable outcome.
Richard paused on his way to the bedroom. “Do you want to see him?”
I shook my head, surprised at the fear growing within me.
“He asked if you were here.”
I let out a long breath. “Then I guess I better go in.”
I followed my brother down the hall to the bedroom on the right. Crammed with dressers, night tables and a double bed, the loud, old-fashioned floral wallpaper made the room seem even smaller. A forty-watt bulb in the overhead light did little to dispel the gloom.
The old man’s face was gray. He looked ancient. Struggling for breath, he argued with Patty. “No, the blue one. The blue one—” He pointed at a drawer.
“But, Dad, it’s got a hole in it,” she said and showed him the pajama leg.
“Pack it,” he said.
Chet noticed Richard and me crowded in the doorway, and sank back against the pillows that kept him propped up. His breathing was a rattling wheeze. I took a few steps forward and he reached out, waving me closer. I stopped short, unwilling to touch him, but he leaned forward, clasped my forearm with a grip that surprised me.
A tidal wave of pain, suffering, and regret washed over me, stealing my breath. Panicked, I backed into Richard at my heels. The old man’s failing condition yawned before me like a black abyss. Richard lunged forward, breaking the connection.
Gasping, I turned aside, holding my arm as though it had been scalded. Patty stared at me, her face a mix of irritation and puzzlement. Richard covered for me, asking Chet how he felt, and taking his pulse, but I saw in the old man’s troubled eyes that even he knew something had passed between us.
“Jeffrey?” he wheezed.
I coughed, straightened, buried my hands in my coat pockets. I had to clear my throat twice before I could speak. “Yeah?”
“Sit here, boy.” Chet patted the edge of the bed.
I threw Richard a wary look, but he only shrugged.
I perched on the end of the mattress, as far from my father as possible. The cat suddenly appeared, jumped up on the old man’s lap, keeping a narrow gaze on me. Patty finished stuffing clothes into the bag, slammed the drawer, and fled the room.
“I’m supposed to see the lawyer tomorrow,” the old man said, gasping.
“What for?” I asked.
“To add you to my will. It’s only right. You’re my first born. You ought to get half—”
“No, Patty—she should get everything.”
He shook his head, determined. It wasn’t worth arguing about. There was no way he’d make it to any attorney’s office. Better to let him make his plans.
“Okay. Just take it easy.”
“I made a mistake, Jeffrey. I should’ve had you come live with me when your mother died. I never forgot you, boy. I always loved you. It just wasn’t meant to be. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Sure . . . Dad.”
Of course I didn’t understand, but what was I going to say to a dying man?
Richard collected his stethoscope and blood pressure cuff, pretending he hadn’t heard the exchange. My father scratched the cat’s head. Herschel purred loudly, greedily nuzzling his hand.
Brisk footsteps announced the arrival of the ambulance crew. Grateful for the opportunity to escape, I sprang to my feet, and sidled past them.
Patty waited for me in the living room. She looked at me with suspicion. “What happened to you in there?”
Embarrassed, I avoided her gaze. “It’s a long story.”
She studied me like I was some kind of freak. “Tell me some time, okay?”
“Later.” Yeah, right. Tell you my secrets? No way.
Long, awkward minutes later, the paramedics wheeled the gurney through the living room.
“We’ll follow in the car, Dad,” Patty said, donning her jacket and grabbing her purse.
“Don’t forget to feed Herschel,” the old man cried feebly as they whisked him through the door.
“You don’t like me much, do you?” Patty asked, as I backed out the driveway.
“Why’d you say that?” I asked, feeling her penetrating glare cut through me.
“Just the way you act around me.”
“It takes me a while to warm to people.”
“I guess I’m not surprised,” she said, staring straight ahead. “What with the way you were brought up and all.”
I kept my mouth shut—didn’t want to start an argument. The silence that followed was unnerving. I wished Richard hadn’t ridden in the ambulance with my dying father. I tuned the radio to a rock station to fill the void.
The ambulance pulled into the emergency entrance. I dropped Patty off before parking the car. Inside, a nurse directed me to the waiting room. Patty knew the drill. She’d grabbed the first empty chair, paging through out-of-date magazines. Restless energy kept me on my feet, pacing.
I glanced at my watch. I’d already killed more than an hour. I’d probably have to hang around until Patty was ready to leave. Great. That meant I wouldn’t get online or finish my darkroom work. I wondered if I should call Maggie, warn her I might not make it for dinner.
The doors to the treatment rooms remained closed. My father was in one of the sterile cubicles, probably wired for sound and attached to IVs. I tried to think of anything but that.
“Will you sit down?” Patty said. “You’re making me jumpy.”
Reluctantly I took the seat beside her, stared at nothing, and thought about death. Tried not to think about death. Tried not to think.
“Is this Richard’s second or third marriage?” Patty asked, thumbing through another magazine.
“What?” I asked, stunned by her question. Our father was dying down the hall. Where the hell wa
s her head?
“Was he married before?” she asked again.
“No. Why do you care?”
“I’m just making conversation.” She put the magazine down, picked up another—and didn’t look at me. “How long did they know each other before they got married?”
“I don’t know. Maybe ten years.”
She frowned. “She’s younger than him, isn’t she?”
“Thirteen years.” Time to end her nosy questions. “Brenda’s pregnant.”
Patty paused in her page-turning. “Oh.”
I glanced at the other worried faces around me and remembered the hours I’d spent worrying when Richard was in the hospital earlier that year.
Had I just admitted I cared about my father? God knows I didn’t want to. But, yeah, I guess I did. Mourn the lost years, Richard had said. Yes, I could do that at least.
I got up, found a coffee machine, bought myself a cup and took my time drinking it. After a while, Patty gave up on the magazines, and stared out the window at the cars in the parking lot.
I was on my third cup when Richard reappeared, his expression a mix of worry and compassion—a look that made my stomach tighten. Instantly on her feet, Patty reached for his hand, looked into his eyes with puppy-dog devotion. I felt like a fifth wheel.
“We’re going to keep your father here at least overnight,” he said.
“Is he going to die?” Patty asked.
Richard pointed to the chairs and we sat down again. His voice was gentle. Patty kept hold of his hand.
“We can make him comfortable,” Richard said, “but that’s about all. Have you thought about hospice care?”
“Yes, but . . . I thought we had more time.”
“Now’s the time.”
“Does that mean he can’t stay here?”
“He can stay for a day or so—but he’ll need constant care from now on. He’d prefer to be at home.”
Patty thought it over. She was remarkably controlled. I’d known the man less than a week and I felt panicked.
“What should we do?” I asked.
Patty looked at me, annoyed. “I’ll handle it,” she said, all business. She looked up at Richard. “Will you help?”
“Of course.” Richard rose. Patty followed, and wound her arm around his.
“Thank you, Richard. I feel so much better knowing you’re here for Daddy.” She closed her eyes, and rested her head on his shoulder, a small smile of satisfaction on her lips.
He patted her back, oblivious of her little performance. He was made for the role of caregiver.
Me?
I wanted to hurl.
Cheerful Christmas lights illuminated the gloom on Maggie’s street. I’d forgotten Thanksgiving weekend was traditional for holiday decorating. I promised Maggie I’d put lights along the roof and around the windows of her house. Buffalo’s unpredictable weather may have put an end to those plans. If it snowed tomorrow, there’d be no holiday lights at Maggie’s home this year. Yet another of my unfinished projects.
By the time Chet was admitted and moved into his hospital room, it was already dark. I’d driven Patty home, then dropped Richard back at the house. My gas gauge hovered near empty and my reserve of civility was in just about the same condition.
I pulled up Maggie’s driveway and wondered what kind of reception I’d get, not that I needed to worry. Maggie wasn’t a stickler for promptness and I’d already called to warn her I’d be late. Still, it irked me that the best part of my weekend had been disrupted by Patty and by my father’s illness. These people hadn’t given a damn about me for decades—decades—and now they were sucking me into a tragedy I didn’t deserve to own.
Maggie must’ve heard my car pull up, for she met me at the door. She eyed me, as though assessing my mood. “Should I get out the bourbon?”
“Yeah. But I’ll only have one. I’ve got to drive home later.”
“You won’t be staying tonight?” she said, and took my coat, sounding disappointed.
“I’ve got to be home for the security guys tomorrow morning. Besides, I want to be there in case Brenda and Richard get more screwy calls tonight.”
“I’d want to be there, too,” she agreed. “But you can’t blame me if I’m lonely.”
I’d almost forgotten her dog was at Richard’s house. I gave her a smile. “What do you know, for once I have you all to myself.” I took her in my arms and gave her a long, intense kiss.
“Wow,” she said, coming up for air. “You’re welcome any time.” She pulled away from my embrace. “Sit down and I’ll bring you that drink.”
“Is dinner ruined?”
“It’s on hold. We can sit and talk for a few minutes. It’ll give you a chance to unwind.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
I settled on the couch, kicked off my shoes, and stretched out my legs. Some new age piano CD played softly on her stereo. Restful. Just what I needed after the emotional roller coaster I’d been on all afternoon.
Maggie returned with my bourbon and soda and a glass of wine for herself. She snuggled up beside me and I put my arm around her. Maggie exudes an aura of peace that envelops me like a soothing cocoon.
“Is your dad going to die?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. It’s like a nightmare. People I didn’t even know a week ago are calling the shots, involving me in stuff I never could have anticipated.”
“Your father, or Patty?”
“Patty,” I admitted. “Everything she says—does—pisses me off. You should see the way she looks at Richard. Like she’s got the hots for him.”
“He’s married.”
“That doesn’t seem to bother her. She’s a bigot, too.” I told her what Patty had said about Brenda days before. “I don’t like her. I never will.”
“You’re judging her too hard and too fast.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some women fall in love with their doctors,” she said, playing devil’s advocate.
“Richard’s not her doctor.”
“No, but he’s a genuinely nice man. And he’s damn fine looking.” For a moment her expression was wistful, then she caught herself, and hurriedly explained, “Not that you aren’t.”
“Thanks,” I deadpanned. I thought about what she said. “You could be right,” I admitted. “But her admiration of him almost borders on incest.”
“He’s not her brother,” Maggie reminded me.
I sipped my drink.
“You’re worrying too much about the long-term impact Patty will have on you,” Maggie said. “Once your father’s . . . gone,” she said gently, “she’ll go back to her old life, which didn’t include you. She’ll probably find another boyfriend and leave both you and Richard alone.”
“Since when are you such a prophet?”
She shrugged. “School of hard knocks.” She took a sip of wine. “You and Richard aren’t like most siblings.”
“How so?”
“You’re closer now than when you were growing up. Me and my sisters were close—especially in our teens and early twenties. We had so much in common—men; minimum-wage jobs; men. But they both fell in love, married, and lived happily ever after. The little house, the kids, dogs—the works.”
“It bothers you that you missed out on some of that, doesn’t it?”
“They treat me differently,” she admitted. “Like they’re members of some secret society I’ll never be a part of, simply because I can’t have a child.”
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“I have my life and my job and my friends. But sometimes it does feel like I’m missing out on a whole big part of life.”
“You have me.”
Her smile warmed me. “You’re the best part.” She brushed a kiss against my cheek, snuggled closer. “It’s a pretty good life, too.”
“Yeah, this year’s been good.”
“Except for the whack on the head that almost ki
lled you,” she reminded me.
I forced a smile. “Yeah. That wasn’t much fun.”
She stood, and held out a hand to me. “Come on. Let’s eat. Afterwards we can do something else.”
“What did you have in mind?”
She glanced in the direction of the bedroom. “As you noticed, we are quite alone.”
“That’s right.” I rose, leaned closer, pressed my lips against hers then gently covered her mouth. “Are you really all that hungry?” I whispered.
Her smile was seductive. “No.”
“Neither am I.”
As Maggie pulled me to the bedroom, I noticed the photos on the wall. Maggie and her two sisters, their two parents, her nieces and nephews. She missed a life she didn’t have. So did I.
So did I.
CHAPTER
10
Richard’s house was dark when I pulled up the driveway after leaving Maggie sound asleep. I wondered if he’d call-forwarded their phone. My answering machine wasn’t blinking, so I hit the sack. The phone never rang to wake me, either. Richard, on the other hand, would’ve made a fine alarm clock. He called before he left for the clinic the next morning to remind me the security people were coming out that morning. He’d had no prank calls the night before and was grateful for a night of undisturbed slumber.
I sat down at my kitchen table to call the phone company. Passing myself off as Richard, I learned all the phone calls had been made from public pay phones. I took down the addresses to check out later, then arranged for a new phone number to take effect the next day, changing the designation to unlisted.
I hung up and scrounged a map to pinpoint the pay phones, which were scattered in a circular pattern downtown. I’d take a drive and check it out later, but I suspected they’d either be inside or near bars. Our prankster probably had a drink, made a call, and moved to another location. I’d have to ask Brenda if Willie was a heavy drinker.
The first batch of security guys arrived precisely at nine a.m. Ken Tyler, the sales rep, and I discussed motion detectors, lasers, adding more lights around the house and placing an electric gate at the bottom of the drive.
The second team wasn’t as impressive, so I went with the first company, although they couldn’t do the installation until Friday. Tyler also offered me a discount for one of their private security guards. I told him I’d think about it.
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