Together Again: Spirit Travel Novel - Book #4 (Romance & Humor - The Vicarage Bench Series)

by Mimi Barbour

  Compassion struck just as it always did when Troy faced the heartbreak and terror of others. He decided now might be just the perfect moment to take Edmund’s mind off what had happened earlier. He’d query the fellow and get him to reminisce—good medicine for a worried soul. Besides, it would be necessary background for the piece he’d be writing.

  Dani returned just then. “Troy, you’re not serious? How can you even think of questioning him at a time like this? It’s—it’s indecent.”

  He not only heard Dani’s horror—he felt it. She opened herself up to him completely, and he experienced her instinctive shock. Her repugnance created a sickness in his stomach that forced his muscles to tighten and the saliva to build up in his mouth. Sadness swept over his spirit, and he had to blink repeatedly to stop the sensation from overflowing to leave traces on his cheeks.

  “Hey, little girl, hold on there. I’ll not hassle the old guy; I’ll just get him to talk. Dani, it’s my job.”

  “Have some sensitivity. He’s worried sick about his wife. He doesn’t need anyone badgering at him now.”

  “Folks will want to read about what happened. They have a right to know more than bare facts. They care about people—people like Mary and Edmund. It’s my job to help them see the individuals involved in the tragedy, not just an old building that burned down. Try and understand?”

  “Don’t the victims have rights also, like their right to privacy during such a painful time?”

  “Look, sweetheart, you have to have faith in my integrity. This is my job, what I do for a living, and I’m good at it. Trust me!”

  “I do—but promise me you’ll be careful.”

  He sighed.

  He waited, not saying a word. He felt her re-assessing, thoughts speeding through with an astuteness that surprised him, made him proud. Seconds built into a minute, and still—he didn’t speak.

  “Sorry! I do trust you, ever so much.”

  “Thank you.”

  An hour later, an hour in which Troy took copious notes, the bustling doctor arrived in front of Troy and Edmund with the good news.

  “Edmund, Mary wrenched her ankle quite severely and sustained mainly first-degree burns. The smoke inhalation at her age worries us somewhat, but the main reason we’re keeping her in hospital is because she was unconscious at the time of rescue. There’s some minor pain from the knock on her head, and we’d like her to stay here with us under observation. If you’d like to remain with her, you’d be welcome. She’s fretting for you, so whenever you’re ready, come to Room 201.”

  Edmund had reached for the doctor’s hand at the beginning of his speech and never did let it go until the younger man kindly put his arm around the old fellow and began to lead him to Mary’s room. Troy followed to peek in on her himself.

  Still in shock from the disaster of losing everything, and unnerved from her close call with death, the pale old woman lay swathed in a white hospital gown, with a bandage the same colour wrapped around her head. Physically, her condition looked better than some of the others he’d seen in the hallways and on stretchers. All in all, it was excellent news for the Conways, at least about Mary’s health. But what about their home?

  Everything Troy gleaned from Edmund’s ramblings pointed to one conclusion. All the inhabitants of the Kingsly boarding house had co-existed for years, living as a large, extended family. They’d shared with each other through thick and thin, good times and bad. Now disaster had struck, and nothing could be worse. They would be homeless, many without funds to help themselves, without relatives to take them in.

  “My God, Troy! Whatever are they going to do? These poor people need someone to come to their aid!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I jolly well know it’s been a week, Mrs. Howard, but Dani is still not recovered from the rash. The doctor says as long as she has them sores, she’s infectious.”

  “I know what my brother says, Mrs. Dorn. I still insist on speaking to Daniell. I doubt if I’ll catch anything over the phone.” The acid in her voice seemed to burn through the wires.

  Yanking the receiver away from her ear, Mrs. Dorn exploded in a violent whisper, her hand over the mouthpiece. “Bloody hell! The stupid cow never lets up!”

  The agitated mother to whom she referred didn’t hear the housekeeper spout off and demanded her attention once more.

  “Mrs. Dorn? Hel-lo? Are you still there?”

  “Hang on, luv. I dropped something. Now, what were you saying? Oh, yes, you wanted to talk to Dani. She can’t talk to you, as you very well know. It were the doctor’s idea to keep her doped up to stop her scratching, and if you ask me, it was a smashing idea.” Agitation was evident in her words, but her slippered foot kicking the wall emphasized it.

  Roused by the thumping, Nurse Joye stayed secreted behind the slightly opened sickroom door while spying on the conversation. She hung back until she grasped that her help was vital, then revealed herself and sped toward the frustrated woman by the black wall phone in the hallway.

  Mrs. Dorn looked up at the nurse and grimaced. The small red knob at the end of her nose stood out grotesquely, and her narrowed eyes snapped with indignation. Obviously at the end of her tether, Mrs. Dorn needed rescuing.

  “I’m most annoyed with my brother, to tell you the truth, Mrs. Dorn. I don’t see why he can’t keep her conscious long enough for me to have a proper conversation with her. I’ve asked around at the hospital, checked with my friends, even enquired at my doctor’s office, and so far no one has been able to tell me a thing about this so-called virus. I shan’t be put off much longer. I’m very concerned.”

  “Iffen you ask me—”

  Nurse Joye plucked the phone from Mrs. Dorn’s hand and put it behind her own back while she waited for the larger woman to extricate her arm from the twisted cord.

  She spoke softly. “Mrs. Dorn, I’ll take this call. You go and make a nice cuppa and calm down. I’ll be in to see you as soon as possible.” The housekeeper looked fit to be tied. It took a few seconds for her to close her mouth and nod. She stomped toward the kitchen, her satin slippers slapping the hardwood floor with each step.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Howard. Nurse Joye here. Mrs. Dorn had to go to the kitchen to—to stop her pudding from boiling over. I couldn’t help overhearing part of the conversation, and I gather you’re troubled about Dani.”

  “Nurse Joye, thank goodness. Sometimes I feel you’re the only sane voice I can talk to in that house. I keep praying Daniell will call and tell me she’s back to normal, but I’ve heard nothing. If I didn’t telephone each day for updates, I don’t believe I’d ever hear from Robert. I’m going mad with worry. She’s my baby, she’s…” Sobs from the anguished mother echoed straight into the single woman’s heart.

  Tears clogged Nurse Joye’s eyes and shivers darted every which way throughout her body. Her voice, reflecting her distress, wobbled until she got herself under control.

  “Mrs. Howard, please don’t upset yourself this way,” she murmured, speaking with the velvet tones of a born caregiver. “You know how much Robert loves his niece, and what a wonderful doctor he is. You must believe he’s doing everything in his power to make Dani as comfortable as possible. It’s the reason he’s kept her here, in such lovely surroundings, rather than the cold atmosphere of the hospital.”

  “That’s exactly what my husband tells me, and I am grateful. Please don’t misunderstand. It’s just so hard not being able to see her and be with her. Is her condition improving at all?” Marion’s fretfulness had receded slightly, but the mournful tones of a woman kept away from her sick child remained.

  Connecting with that expressed pain left Nurse Joye no other recourse but to give in to the obvious plea for reassurance. “My dear, we’re hoping to have her up and around by Saturday. She’ll still be weak, but at least you’ll see her then.”

  “Goodness, that’s days away. I only hope I can last that long.”

  Finally, after many more minutes of
evasive tactics, Grace hung up the phone and leaned back against the wall, her hand covering her cheek in a common reflex during moments of stress. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Lying was abhorrent to her, and normally she wouldn’t allow herself to be put in a position where it became necessary. But in this case she had no other option.

  Robert knew his sister extremely well, and Grace had to concur with his assessment. If he’d tried to explain to Marion what he’d told Grace, she had no doubt in her mind, none at all, that the frenzied woman would not only have her daughter into a clinic immediately but would also be seeking professional care for her brother.

  It would be disastrous for Dani to be removed from the vicinity of the mysterious roses. Grace firmly believed the only way to get that girl back to her normal self was to have her body by that specific bush at noon on Saturday. With luck and prayers, all would go according to plan. She made the sign of the cross. Asking assistance from a higher presence wouldn’t hurt at all.

  Aware of her duties, she peeked in on Dani to assure herself all was well. Then, satisfied of her patient’s comfort, she headed toward the kitchen to tackle Mrs. Dorn. Before entering the room she smoothed her hands over her proper white uniform and forced her shoulders to relax.

  Mrs. Dorn, bent over and rummaging in the cupboards under the sink, jumped a foot when she realized the nurse stood in the kitchen behind her.

  “Strewth! I didn’t see ya there, miss. You startled me, ya did.” She put back the odd-looking container and straightened to face the nurse.

  “Mrs. Dorn, do you have any children?”

  “No, but I have a sweet little kitty.”

  “With all due respect, my dear, I don’t believe it’s quite the same thing.”

  “Not exactly, but Pearl’s getting on. She misses me something fierce, according to me sister, who is cat-sitting her while I’m staying here to assist the doctor.”

  The woman literally oozed righteous virtue when stating her employer’s need for her services. She always spoke the doctor’s name with a reverence that indicated her position, as his housekeeper, was probably a bragging tool with her family and her pals.

  “If you have a sister, who I’m sure you care about, you should be able to understand how difficult it is for Marion Howard to have Dani, a beloved daughter, sick and out of her reach. Any mother would be frantic, and she is particularly vulnerable, according to Dr. Andrews. After years of trying to conceive, she’d given up the possibility of ever having children. So Dani was something of a miracle.”

  Mrs. Dorn’s head lowered a bit more with each of Nurse Joye’s points until she resembled a castigated child. “I know I can be a bit full on sometimes. Look ‘ere, that girl is a miracle, a lovely lass, respectful and kind whenever she comes to visit himself. Always takes a few minutes to come in and wish me a good day and beg for one of me special cookies.”

  “If you like her so much, you’ll want to do what’s best for her and her mother, right?”

  As if Grace hadn’t interrupted, the woman ranted on. “It were the doctor’s idea to have me stay and help with her care, and I’m happy to do it. But taking the mickey out of his sister is wearing a bit thin. She won’t give over, hounds me until I’m flaming ratty.”

  All the time she talked, Mrs. Dorn filled the copper kettle, fetched china cups and saucers, and set the table for two. Lovely teacakes, which she’d made and decorated with different colours of icing, were arranged on a pretty platter and placed on the white lace doily covering the well-scrubbed wooden table.

  A cozy rocker and footstool positioned near the fireplace looked to be the woman’s retreat, and the basket next to it, filled with bright red wool and knitting needles, her pastime.

  Multiple plants hung from the ceiling by the bay window in fashionable holders. Asparagus ferns, variegated spider plants, and many pots of colourful violets crammed the smaller spaces. Frilly yellow curtains framed the bright area and produced a pleasing atmosphere in an otherwise utilitarian room.

  As a background for the large-boned, cranky woman, whose support stockings were rolled at her ankles and familiar red kerchief shielded bobby-pinned hair, the room didn’t quite fit. Until, that is, a person looked deeper and noticed the obvious pride she took in her surroundings.

  Grace appraised the spotless room and smiled. Her glance settled on Mrs. Dorn. The wrapping on the outside of a parcel didn’t always reflect the jewels hidden inside, a lesson Grace knew well. It had been drilled into her through many years of living with her own misery.

  Getting back to the matter at hand, Grace said, “Mrs. Dorn, we really must try to have more patience. Can I count on you to keep your temper with Mrs. Howard, or shall you feel better if I talked with her from now on?”

  “Honestly? The cheek of the woman gets to me some days, but me blasted foot’s aching like the dickens today, and I’m a might touchy. I fancy I’ll be back to me normal happy nature tomorrow, see if I’m not.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Dorn. I’m not much good at, ah, telling fibs. Therefore, I do rely on you.”

  A booming laugh reverberated across the table. “Telling porkies doesn’t faze me a-tall. It’s the woman’s fancy airs that are a bother. I only hope she doesn’t push me too far.” With a large sigh, the housekeeper plonked herself down across from the slender girl in white and began to pour the tea.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bunty Hubble’s usual seductive greeting was noticeably absent when Troy finally trudged back to the Cozy Inn that night. In fact, her smouldering glare levelled him, stopping him in his tracks.

  “Your—animal—is tied in the back garden, Mr. Brennan, and will not be allowed inside in the future.” She tilted towards him, her finger waving in warning, her anger very apparent.

  “Buddy! We forgot all about the poor baby. Troy, he’ll be frightened, left alone for so long. Do something.”

  “Bunty, I apologise for my thoughtlessness. I truly forgot about the poor little pup. You see, I got involved in a fire not far from here. A shocking situation—”

  The word “fire” caught the woman’s attention. She scanned the dirty, blackened figure leaning tiredly against the counter. Then she moved, a whirlwind of competency.

  “Hang on, what’s happened to you? Come and sit down.” She ducked under the lift-up section of the reception desk and moved over to guide Troy to the brown leather sofa crammed between two overflowing plant stands. “You’re injured? You poor man, you look exhausted. You must have been involved in the Kingsly fire. Such a catastrophe! Those sad misfortunates have no place to go. My heart breaks for them.”

  “You’re right, Bunty. It was a bad scene. I got drawn into their predicament and ended up going to the hospital. It’s why I forgot about Buddy.”

  “Buddy?”

  “The pup. He must have been in a sorry state, being left alone so long. I’d hoped to get him to his new owner before he became a problem.”

  “Ooch! He’s no problem whatsoever, poor wee little thing. He seemed scared, and I was miffed, thinking you’d hidden him and weren’t caring about any mess he’d make. But he never did—make a mess, that is. In fact, if I hadn’t gone into the wardrobe to put the extra cover away, I’d never have even known the little devil hid there. Quiet as a mouse, he was. He’ll be fine in the room with you, and if you need to go out, just leave him down in the garden. I’ll be happy to keep an eye on him for you in the future.”

  “You are one sweet woman, Bunty. Thank you.” Troy cocked his head, stared straight at her, and smiled, a smile he’d used most of his life in moments when someone touched him. This smile started from his heart, connected with his eyes, and travelled to his lips with such sweetness that an instant bond of friendship swelled between them.

  Flustered and pink-faced, Bunty said, “I try, Mr. Brennan.” This time when she leaned towards him, she reached over and very gently patted his shoulder. “Now you go on out to the garden and get your Buddy, take him up with you, and I’ll get Cook
to fix you a nice tray of supper.”

  The woman’s sincere empathy earned Dani’s grudging respect. “Why, she’s really very nice, Troy. She genuinely cares about the fire victims, and she was sweet about Buddy.”

  “Why are you so surprised, little one? Most people are kind-hearted and care more than they let on. You’re way too young to have such a blasé, distrustful attitude. You must have learned it from someone else. And I’d stake my life on it that you got the biggest lessons from your mother.”

  “Troy!”

  ****

  The supper tray, now empty, sat in front of Troy on the room’s only table. A white linen cloth lay scrunched up next to the rosebud vase where one perfect yellow flower rested. Before he ate, the overwhelming odour of lamb chop and mashed potatoes had dominated, but now the faint sweet scent of the rose drifted through.

  Gazing out the window, Troy watched the slow traffic moving along the right side of the street, driven by people seated on the right side of the vehicle—all wrong to him.

  The narrow cobblestone road, a picturesque addition to the scene for a man used to concrete and asphalt, glistened from the rain shower washing it clean. Window baskets, full of colour and beauty, graced many of the street’s smaller shops and were being watered simultaneously. Sporadic rays of late sunshine broke through the misty droplets, forming arcs of brilliant rainbow beauty.

  A sigh filled him, not his own, but still it vibrated around inside, leaving him feeling sad, a sensation he hadn’t felt in years. He looked down and spotted the small furball plucking a dainty paw at his pant leg, eyes peeking through tufts of fur and long black lashes. Adoration challenged Troy’s returning stare.

  Dani took over. “Buddy!” Strong arms reached down and gentle hands lifted the small pup, cradling him as one would a baby, rocking the tiny mite back and forth. Intense sensations of misery deepened to overcome Troy, encouraging him to speak words he’d never intended to say. Words he’d been shying away from, because he knew that, once spoken, they couldn’t be unsaid. Words that would involve him even more in the life of a mere girl whose increasing importance scared the hell out of him.