“What kind of dog do you have?” Jessie asked.
“A Chihuahua.”
“My grandmother has a Chihuahua,” Jessie said, brightening up. “His name is Flip.”
“We call our dog Peaches. Come over and meet her. But I’ve got to warn you. She’ll try to lick your nose off if she gets a chance.”
The man started walking toward the truck. Jessie followed, pushing the bike. The man was right. Pushing the bike to Mrs. Fairmont’s house would take a long, long time.
“See what I found?” the man said to his wife. “A young woman with a flat tire in need of a ride to Hull Street.”
Jessie reached the truck. The truck bed was empty, and she leaned forward to see the dog inside the cab.
“Where’s your dog?” she said.
“On the passenger floorboard. She’s just a little thing,” the man said.
The man pushed Jessie’s head inside the truck, and the woman covered her nose with a foul-smelling cloth.
Everything went black.
MRS. BARTLETT TOLD ME SHE AND HER HUSBAND WERE FINISHING supper at a restaurant not more than five minutes away.
“Is she conscious and able to talk?” Mrs. Bartlett asked after listening to a quick summary.
“Enough to tell me she didn’t want to go to the hospital.”
“Ken and I will be there as soon as we can. But if she’s in a crisis, don’t wait for us to call an ambulance.”
I returned to the den with a clean, cool washcloth.
“Would you like this on your head?”
“Yes.”
I placed the cloth on Mrs. Fairmont’s forehead. She’d gotten hot from the exertion caused by the nausea. I gently wiped her face.
“That feels good. Did you call Christine?”
“Yes, ma’am. She and Mr. Bartlett were eating at a restaurant in town and are on their way.”
“Tell her I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
“I did.”
Mrs. Fairmont shut her eyes for a moment. “I feel a heavy weight on my chest.”
I sat on the edge of the couch and took her hand in mine.
“That worries me. Along with the pain in your left arm and the nausea, it sounds like you could be having a heart attack.”
Mrs. Fairmont opened her eyes and shook her head. “No. Just let me rest for a few minutes before Christine gets here. If I end up in the hospital, she’s going to pressure me to buy a unit at Surfside. I need you to speak up for me.”
I took the cloth with me and returned to the kitchen. The fact that Mrs. Fairmont could think lucidly was good; the possibility that I might end up in the middle of an argument between her and her daughter was bad. Mrs. Fairmont had spent almost a month in the rehabilitation wing of the nursing home after suffering a stroke the previous summer. It was a new, clean facility, but like so many elderly people, Mrs. Fairmont prized the familiar comfort of home more than the security of twenty-four-hour medical care. I rehearsed what I would say if the two women got in a discussion and tried to drag me into it. I decided the best course might be to appeal to Mr. Bartlett, a levelheaded man who had found a way to endure the verbal barrage that flowed unhindered from his wife’s mouth. The front door opened, and Flip raced out of the den toward the foyer. I ran after him, hoping to intercept him before he could launch an attack on Mrs. Bartlett’s ankles. I grabbed him as he bared his teeth.
“She’s in the den,” I said, slightly breathless.
I hung back as Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett went down the hall. I stayed in the foyer and soothed Flip until I felt it was safe to deposit him on the floor in the den doorway. He ignored Mrs. Bartlett and hopped up to his place on the couch at Mrs. Fairmont’s feet.
“Mother, this isn’t the time for you to play doctor and diagnose what’s wrong with you. With the symptoms Tami described, you should go to the ER.”
“I feel better already.” Mrs. Fairmont looked at me. “Will you get me a glass of water? No ice, please.”
I returned with the water. When Mrs. Fairmont reached for the glass her right hand shook. I guided the glass to her lips.
“Look at your hand,” Mrs. Bartlett said. “At least let me call Dr. Dixon and see what he thinks you should do.”
“He’s at home with his family.”
“And has an answering service that will notify him.”
“If Dr. Dixon isn’t on call, I don’t want to talk to Dr. Faraday. He has the worst bedside manner. You said yourself that he had less personality than—”
“We won’t know who’s on call until we try,” Mrs. Bartlett interrupted, taking her cell phone from her purse.
“I want to hear what you tell the doctor, whoever it is,” Mrs. Fairmont said.
Mrs. Bartlett left a message with the answering service. In less than a minute, the phone rang. It was the doctor.
“Dr. Dixon, thanks for calling,” she said. “Tami Taylor, mother’s caregiver, was with her and can tell you exactly what happened.”
I didn’t want to be the bearer of news that might send Mrs. Fairmont for an unwanted hospital stay, but, I had no choice. I took the phone and gave the doctor a detailed description of what had happened.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Mrs. Fairmont wants to talk to you, too.”
“Hello,” Mrs. Fairmont said in a slightly shaky voice, then listened. “Yes, what Tami said was correct. Here’s Christine.”
Mrs. Fairmont looked at her daughter with sad eyes and handed her the phone. Mrs. Bartlett was silent for a longer period of time.
“I agree,” she said, then clicked off the phone. She turned to her husband.
“He wants us to take Mother to the ER. He’ll meet us there. She won’t have to wait; he’ll see that she’s taken immediately to a room where he can run some tests.” She turned to me. “Tami, pack a few things she might need for the next few hours and put them in the small green carry-on bag.”
“Is there anything special you want?” I asked Mrs. Fairmont.
The elderly woman had her lips pressed tightly together. She shook her head.
“Ken, pull the car around to the garage,” Mrs. Bartlett said.
I bounded upstairs, not exactly sure what might be appropriate for an emergency room visit. I took the suitcase from the closet and quickly filled it with Mrs. Fairmont’s favorite nightgown, slippers, toiletries, a photo of Flip, and other items that were part of her daily routine. Downstairs, Mrs. Bartlett was holding her mother’s arm as they stood in the foyer.
“Put the suitcase in the car,” Mrs. Bartlett said to me.
I put the suitcase in the trunk and said a quick prayer for the woman whose personal items it contained, then hurried back to help Mrs. Fairmont down the three steps to the garage.
“I’m feeling better already,” the elderly woman said when we reached the car. “Maybe I just needed to get off the couch and stretch my legs.”
“That won’t work with me,” Mrs. Bartlett said. “We’re meeting Dr. Dixon at the ER even if you claim you could jog to the hospital.”
After we helped Mrs. Fairmont into the front seat, Mrs. Bartlett opened the rear door.
“Will you let me know—,” I asked.
“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Bartlett cut me off.
I stood at the bottom of the steps as Mr. Bartlett backed the car into the street and turned in the direction of the hospital. A humid dusk had settled over Savannah. The gray sky matched my mood. I stepped from the garage and glanced down Hull Street toward Whittaker Street.
And remembered Jessie.
The young woman could have ridden multiple times around Forsyth Park in the time since she’d left. I quickly looked up and down the street and saw nothing except one of Mrs. Fairmont’s neighbors sweeping the brick walkway to her house. I wasn’t sure whether to wait for Mrs. Bartlett’s phone call or search for Jessie. News from the hospital would be slow coming. I went inside the house and grabbed my purse.
Driving Mrs. Fairmont’s car, I followed the logica
l route from the house to Forsyth Park and slowly circled the green area. There was no sign of Jessie or the bike. I repeated the circuit then parked near the water fountain and got out. It was getting darker and only a few people were walking in the park. I asked a woman if she’d seen a girl matching Jessie’s description on a bike. Her blank look made me realize interviewing random people would be pointless. If Jessie had decided to take off on the bike, she could be miles away in any direction. I drove slowly back to Mrs. Fairmont’s house.
Going into the den, I plopped down on the couch. Jessie’s disappearance didn’t make sense. Forty-eight hours earlier I might have expected her to run away. But I had no doubt about the strength of the young woman’s desire to stay with Mrs. Fairmont. I felt a pang of guilt that I’d been so harsh in the way I told Jessie there were no guarantees about her future. In my heart, I knew Mrs. Fairmont would probably let Jessie stay as long as she needed to.
All the practical ramifications of Jessie’s actions began to sink in. Her bond would be revoked, leaving Sister Dabney on the hook for ten thousand dollars that I knew she didn’t have. The generous plea bargain made by Jan Crittenden would go away. And Jessie would enter the criminal system as a fugitive with a felony warrant chasing her wherever she fled.
The first person I had to notify was Sister Dabney. Using my cell phone so the house line would be available for Mrs. Bartlett’s call, I dialed the number and waited. On the seventh ring, the woman preacher answered.
“Jessie’s gone,” I said.
“What happened?”
As I told Sister Dabney the background information, including what happened to Mrs. Fairmont, I fought back tears.
“Do you think Mrs. Fairmont is going to be okay? Has the Lord shown you anything about her future?”
“No. I’m going to pray Mrs. Fairmont will finish her race and not be tripped before crossing the line. You do the same.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I cleared my throat. “You know what Jessie’s disappearance means. The bond you posted guaranteeing her appearance in court will come due.”
“That’s not my problem.”
I knew what Sister Dabney meant without asking.
“Okay.” I paused. “Are you surprised that she ran away?”
“And may come back. Jessie is a prodigal, but she ran away from a bad home, not a good one. With Mrs. Fairmont, she’s had a tiny taste of a better way to live. That’s going to draw her back stronger than you realize.”
“The legal system won’t wait for her to figure that out.”
“I’ve got some rocking to do.”
After the call ended, I remained on the couch. Flip was asleep beside Mrs. Fairmont’s empty chair. The house was eerily quiet. I closed my eyes and visualized the front door opening and Jessie bounding in with a tall tale of imaginary adventure. But the door remained shut; the silence remained.
A feeling of dread began to creep over me, and I went to the closet that contained the control panel for the alarm system. The instructions for activating the system were on top of the panel. I knew what to do, but I read the directions anyway and lightly touched the buttons without pushing them. I heard a noise that startled me and glanced down the hallway. If I turned on the alarm, I would have to let Mrs. Bartlett and Gracie know before they entered the house. But what reason would I give them? That I was suddenly scared about being alone? I’d always felt safe and secure in the house.
I left the closest and began slowly walking through the house, praying in each room. I went upstairs and spent time kneeling at the foot of Mrs. Fairmont’s bed. When I made my way to the basement, the feeling of dread increased. I continued praying, but I also double-checked the locks on the windows I’d inspected twenty-four hours earlier with Jessie. Nothing seemed out of place, but I couldn’t shake the nervous unease lodged in the center of my being. Returning upstairs, I was standing in the kitchen when the phone rang, causing me to jump. I picked up the receiver. It was Mrs. Bartlett. As usual, the words poured out of her mouth with no greeting.
“The initial tests didn’t show evidence of a heart attack, and Mother wanted to come home, but Dr. Dixon admitted her, and she’s waiting for a room. He wants to run another test in the morning and watch her closely for at least a day or so.”
“She should have everything she needs in the green suitcase. If not, let me know.”
“Good. I reassured her you had everything under control at the house.” Mrs. Bartlett’s voice was muffled for a moment. “She wants to talk to you.”
“Tami?” Mrs. Fairmont’s voice sounded stronger than when she left the house.
“Yes, ma’am, are you feeling better?”
“I would be if I could curl up in my own bed, but the conspirators here at the hospital aren’t going to let that happen.”
“I’m just thankful nothing serious showed up on the tests.”
“I’ve got to stay around to take care of you and Flip.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And finish telling Jessie all my stories. Let me talk to her for a minute. I don’t want her to worry about me.”
I swallowed. “Mrs. Fairmont, she never came back from the bike ride. I drove around Forsyth Park, but there was no sign of her.”
There was no response. I waited.
“Are you there?” I asked.
“Yes, but I don’t understand. I thought she was enjoying her stay with us.”
“Me, too, but something changed her mind.” I winced again at the role I played in that process. “I called Sister Dabney. We’re praying that she’ll turn up soon.”
“I will, too. You don’t think something bad may have happened to her, do you?”
My blood ran cold, and I involuntarily shivered. One thing I knew for certain—Jessie’s fear of discovery wasn’t an act. But only a handful of people knew she was staying with Mrs. Fairmont and me.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Are you going to call the police and report her as a missing person?”
“If I do that it will trigger revocation of her bond and—” I stopped. “It’s all complicated, Mrs. Fairmont. Please rest and get better soon.”
I could hear Mrs. Fairmont talking to Mrs. Bartlett.
“Jessie’s gone?” Mrs. Bartlett said to me when she came back on the line.
“Yes. She went for a bike ride to Forsyth Park and never came back.”
I heard Mrs. Bartlett sniff. “You can’t count on young people to be dependable. I felt sorry for her, especially after hearing how she lost her aunt to cancer, but the Lord helps those who help themselves. Mother wants to give her a second chance if she comes back, but we’ll have to talk that over later. Keep your cell phone on in case I need you to run something up to the hospital. There’s no telling how long we’ll have to stay here. I’m supposed to go to Sea Island with a friend in the morning for a day trip we’ve been planning for months, but that’s not going to happen.”
“Do you want me to come to the hospital so you can leave?”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“No, ma’am,” I said quickly. “I’m just willing to do anything that will help. If I came across wrong, I’m sorry.”
“I’m just jumpy. There’s not a mean bone in your body. Of course you’re incredibly naive, especially for a woman lawyer, but that will change over time.” There was a pause. “No, Mother, I’m not lecturing Tami. We’ve talked about that many times, and you agreed with me. Tami, I’ve got to go. If I keep talking, Mother really might have a heart attack.”
The phone clicked off. My concern about Mrs. Fairmont eased. My fear for Jessie increased. I started pacing through the house. The only outsiders who knew Jessie was staying with Mrs. Fairmont were Jan Crittenden, Sister Dabney, Maggie, Julie, and Zach. Sister Dabney and Maggie were unlikely sources of a leak. Julie was always a risk to blurt something out in a public place. Jan might have mentioned it in any number of places. After all, it wasn’t confidential information. Zach probably sa
id something to Vince. The two men seemed to talk about everything that concerned me. I stopped in my tracks. If the news began to circulate around Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter that a client I represented in a criminal case was living with Julie or me, someone with a connection to Clay Hackney might have found out and told him.
I decided to call Julie even though the possibility she might answer the phone was slim if she was at the hospital. On the fifth ring she picked up.
“It’s Tami. How is your father doing?”
“The third doctor who’s talked with us today left the room a few minutes ago after giving us the best news yet. Daddy is still very sick, but he doesn’t show any signs of permanent neurological damage. It will take awhile, but he should fully recover.”
“That’s great.”
“How are things in Savannah? Have you caught Jessie trying to pawn any of Mrs. Fairmont’s silver spoons?”
“Jessie is gone.”
Julie listened in silence as I told her what happened.
“That’s too bad. Jessie was a runaway before you got her out of jail, and she’s picked up where she left off. I was getting to like her. She’s a lot smarter than you first think. If given the right opportunity, there’s no telling what she could—” Julie stopped. “I guess there’s no use talking about that. Where do you think she went?”
“I don’t have any idea.”
“If she stays around Savannah, she’ll probably be caught and thrown back in jail. If she leaves town, you’ll never hear from her again.”
“Her biggest fear wasn’t going to jail.”
I told Julie about Jessie’s reaction to Clay Hackney.
“That sounds like more fruit of Jessie’s overactive imagination. We know she doesn’t draw a bright line between where a lie ends and the truth begins. I think all that stuff with this Hackney guy was a way for Jessie to make herself look more important than she is. Don’t let her mess with your mind.”
Jessie had easily duped Mrs. Bartlett about her aunt, and I had to admit I could be making the same mistake about Jessie and Clay Hackney.
“You may be right.”
“If I’m not, then the truth is close by.”
Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love Page 27
