by Lisa Duffy
But mostly, he can’t stop thinking about how it’s all his fault.
“Stop saying that,” Maggie says softly.
Leo looks up, surprised. He hadn’t realized he’d actually said it out loud.
“Well, it is,” he argues. “I’m the one who didn’t call Frankie’s mother to make sure they were staying there.”
“Who the hell were they with anyway?” Maggie asks. “There’s a woman more than likely dead back there, and we have no idea who it is!”
“Are we sure it’s a woman?” Agnes asks. “Don’t let it be a child. One of their friends!”
“No.” Maggie shakes her head. “Sky said woman. Over and over. You heard her screaming it—”
“I heard her,” Lillian says, nodding. “She kept shouting: There’s a woman in the fire—”
“Lillian, please,” Maggie interrupts, covering her ears at the sound. The way Lillian says it sends a shiver through her.
“I’m sorry—I think I’m still in shock!” Lillian drops her head back, stares at the ceiling.
“What did Frankie’s parents say?” Leo asks Maggie. He had wanted to call them, but Maggie insisted. Told him to stay in the ambulance with Sky and she’d take care of it.
“They had no idea who it could have been. Absolutely none. Granted, they thought Frankie was in bed at her grandmother’s house, so I think all of it was a bit overwhelming. Frankie’s mother is on a flight home now. But I don’t think she’s going to be able to tell us anything.”
The door opens, and Joe appears, his hair wild, the smell of smoke following him in the room.
“How are they? What did the doctor say?” he asks.
“They’re both okay,” Leo says. “But I don’t have details. They kicked me out of the room so they could examine her.”
“Can I get you a water?” Agnes asks Joe. “A wet towel?” She studies him, concern on her face.
He shrugs, and Agnes disappears out the door, happy, it seems, to have something to do.
“Is the fire out?” Leo asks, and Joe sighs, nods.
“It didn’t spread. Just the tree house and some of the surrounding brush. Police are on the scene.”
Agnes returns with a towel draped over each arm and a cup of water in her hand. She stands in front of Joe and extends her left arm.
“This one first. Head and face. Hands and arms.”
Joe takes the towel, a suspicious look on his face. He lowers his head and rubs the wet towel over it, dragging it down over his face. Then up and down each arm. When he’s done, Agnes gestures for him to drop it on the floor.
“Now the same with the dry one,” she says, and he takes the towel and repeats the process.
“Now, drink,” she says, handing him the cup.
Agnes leans down and gathers the towels and disappears out the door without another word.
Joe chugs the water. When he’s done, he looks like a new man.
“She’s good,” he says, looking at the door.
“Yup,” Maggie agrees. “Bedside manner not included, she’s one of the best nurses on the island.”
“So?” Leo asks impatiently, waiting for Joe to tell him what he knows. “What happened? Who is the woman? What was Sky talking about?”
Joe slumps in the chair. “No clue to all of the above. They found a body. Not exactly identifiable. A woman though. Just like Sky said. Cops will be here soon. I told them where to find us.”
Joe stands suddenly, peering out the glass door.
“I wish they’d send someone in to give us an update,” he says just as the door swings open and a man in scrubs steps in. It’s a different doctor than the one he met earlier in Sky’s room, and the man’s eyes roam over them.
“Sky’s family?” he asks.
Leo stands. “That’s me. I’m Leo. Her, um…” He can’t seem to find the word. “How is she?”
“She’ll be fine. We’ll keep her overnight. Give her some oxygen for the smoke and pain meds for the bruise on her back. It’ll be sore, but nothing serious. You can see her in a bit. We’re moving her to a room with her friend.”
“Frankie—she’s okay? Did you talk to her parents? They’re probably worried sick.”
The doctor holds up his hands. “I spoke with them. Frankie did as well. She’s a tough kid.” He smiles. “Broken arm, a good bump on her head, and some minor burns, but I almost had to strap her down on the bed. She kept trying to go see Sky. I’ll send a nurse to get you when they’re in the room.”
He waves and disappears out the door.
Leo stares at the wall. Guardian. That’s the word he was looking for when the doctor came in.
He wants to say parent. He’s her parent. But he’s not. Not really. A parent would have called to check with Frankie’s mother. That’s what a parent would have done.
Instead, they’re here in the hospital. Two young girls with burns and bumps and bruises.
A woman dead.
All his fault.
45
Frankie sleeps straight through the night.
She was asleep when they first got to the room, and Sky thought Frankie might wake up when Leo came in. But he barely spoke. He just came over and kissed Sky on the forehead, told her to close her eyes and get some rest.
Then he sat down in the chair next to her bed. She could tell he wanted to ask her a million questions, because every time she opened her eyes, he was looking at her. He’d lean forward, tilt his head in a way that made her feel as though he wanted her to say something.
Finally, she told him what she’d been wanting to tell him all along.
“I’m sorry I lied,” she said. “About staying at Frankie’s.”
He nodded, as if he already knew this, and then the nurse walked in and said Sky should try to get some sleep, and Leo stood up.
“Do you want me to stay the night? I can sleep in the chair,” he said.
“You can’t with your back,” she said quickly, relieved when he came over and kissed her forehead again and said he’d be back in the morning, because she couldn’t think of anything worse than having him stare at her all night, waiting to ask what happened.
When she had absolutely no idea what happened.
She almost went over at one point and shook Frankie awake so they could talk about it. But then she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Now it’s morning and she’s been waiting for Frankie to wake up when a nurse comes in again, and by the time she leaves, Sky looks over to see Frankie sitting up, her eyes open.
Sky turns over, leans as far as the bed allows toward Frankie.
“I can’t come over with this thing in my arm!” She points to the IV.
“Me either.” Frankie holds up her arm. “Can you believe I broke it again?” she says, gesturing to her other arm.
She pictures Frankie in the burning tree house. Then falling through the air.
“If you start crying, then I’m going to. So don’t!” Frankie warns as Sky’s eyes fill with tears.
“You could have died—”
“And I didn’t. And you didn’t. Besides, I should be crying over you—I’m the reason we’re in this stupid hospital.”
“What did happen? I went to sleep, and you were outside. Then I woke up and there was fire everywhere.”
“I watched the easel for a couple of hours and then I got tired. I went inside to wake you up, but you were all curled up, and I didn’t know if you still didn’t feel good. So I just lay down for a second, thinking I’d listen for footsteps. Go back out in a couple of minutes. Then I woke up to you screaming. Then—” She looks over at Sky, who doesn’t speak.
Both of them are silent, staring at each other. The woman, Sky wants to say. But she can’t make it pass through her lips. She knows she’s dead. She saw her drop straight into the flames.
There’s a knock on the door, and Leo walks into the room, followed by a policeman.
“Hi girls. This is Officer Mike,” Leo says in an upbeat voice, as thou
gh he’s just brought a clown into the room instead of a cop. “He just wants to talk to you guys about last night. Nothing to be afraid of—you’re not in any trouble. Okay?”
He nods to Officer Mike, who Sky and Frankie already know from surfing at the beach. He’s not that much older than Frankie’s brothers, and she’s glad it’s him standing in front of them and not Maggie’s husband, her neighbor, who seems much scarier.
“Sky and Frankie, right?” He points to Sky first and then Frankie. They both nod, and he slaps his hands together. “We’re off to a good start. That’s about as hard as the questions are going to get, okay?” He flashes a smile, trying to make them comfortable.
But Sky can’t breathe, and when she glances at Frankie, she’s as white as the sheets on her bed.
“First—I have some hard news.” He pauses, glances at Leo, who nods, as though giving him permission to say what he’s about to say. “There was a woman in the tree house with you. She, um, didn’t make it. I’m sorry.” He waits, folds his hands in front of him, and puts his head down.
Sky slides her eyes over to Frankie, who widens her eyes briefly and looks back at Officer Mike.
“We didn’t know her,” Frankie offers. “I mean she saved us. But we were sleeping when the fire started. And then she just showed up.”
“You had no prior dealings with or knowledge of this person?” Officer Mike asks, looking at Leo, as if he should add something to the conversation.
“Girls,” Leo cuts in. “Anything you can tell us is helpful. Even if you think it’s not important. They’re having trouble identifying the bod—” He clears his throat. “We want to find out who she is. You know, for her family.”
Sky looks over at Frankie, who nods, as though she knows what Sky is about to say.
“We don’t know who she is. But we have an easel by the cliff. We paint there sometimes. And someone started finishing our paintings. We wanted to see who it was. We left a picture and were hoping whoever it was would come back. That’s why we slept there. Except we both fell asleep, and Frankie started sleepwalking and kicked over the lantern. And then the tree house lit on fire. Then she just was there. To save us.”
“Did she say anything? Did she know your names?”
They both shake their heads.
“Okay,” Officer Mike sighs. “How about looks—can you describe her? Color of her skin? Hair? Any physical description would help.”
“I couldn’t see anything,” Sky says. “I just felt someone dragging me, and then when I looked up after I was on the ground, I saw just a woman and Frankie.”
“How do you know it was a woman?”
Sky pauses, closes her eyes and pictures the moment when she looked up from the ground at the tree house. “Her hair, I guess. It was long. And she was skinny. Like tall, taller than Frankie, but like a skeleton. You saw her,” she says to Frankie. “You had your back to me, so you must have looked right at her.”
Frankie holds Sky’s eyes, then looks away. “It was dark. Smoky. I don’t remember anything.” She looks down, picks at the blanket on her legs.
“Nothing?” Officer Mike presses. “Think. Maybe close your eyes and try—”
“I don’t remember,” Frankie says, her voice suddenly hard.
“I think that’s enough for now,” Leo says. “We’ll call you if we can think of anything else, okay?” He extends his hand to Officer Mike, who shakes it.
“Thanks, girls. Feel better, okay?” He waves, walks to the door.
“Wait,” Frankie calls and he turns. “There’s an artist studio. On Crow Farm. I don’t know if it has anything to do with it. Or this woman. But whoever kept finishing our paintings was good. Really good.” She shrugs. “Maybe check if anyone was staying there.”
Officer Mike nods and gestures for Leo to follow him out to the hallway.
“Be right back,” Leo says, and closes the door behind him.
Sky looks over at Frankie, who takes a deep breath and blows it out.
“You okay?” she asks.
Frankie shakes her head, a tear slipping down her cheek.
Sky holds her breath. Frankie never cries.
“What?” she whispers, leaning over the side of the bed.
Frankie leans over too.
“I wanted to tell you first. Not him,” Frankie says. “I did see her. She was right in front of me. Like as close as you are to me. And I looked right at her.”
Sky waits. “And?” she asks finally.
Frankie swallows. “It was you,” she whispers, her voice catching. “I was looking at someone who looks just like you.”
46
She was the one who suggested sending the rookie cop to talk to the girls.
Pete had called her on the phone. He was heading to the hospital to interview Sky and Frankie, but he wanted to stop by first to see what she knew.
It was the first time they’d seen each other in weeks, and Maggie had been nervous about it. Maybe things would be different between them.
But Pete had walked in the door without knocking, as though he’d never left. And they’d argued almost immediately.
“Tell me what you know about all this. I heard pretty much the whole street was at the scene of the fire,” he said.
“I know very little. We were having dinner, and Joe turned around and saw the fire—”
“Joe Armstrong? From across the street?”
“Yes—and then we heard the fire trucks and ran into the woods. The tree house was on fire. Sky and Frankie were lying on the ground—”
“Why were you and Joe having dinner?” he interrupted, folding his arms across his chest. He spread his legs and leaned back.
The cop stance, she called it.
It infuriated her. Always had. Made her feel as though she were being interrogated.
In her own kitchen.
“I didn’t know you guys were friends.”
“Yes, you did,” she said tightly. “We’ve been friends with Joe for a long time.”
“We have. Yes. Me, you. Joe. That’s three people. Not two people having dinner together.”
She could’ve told him that Leo was there. Instead, she walked over to the door, opened it.
“If these are the questions you want to ask me, you can leave.”
“I don’t know why you’re so angry all the time.” He threw up his hands.
“I know you don’t,” she said calmly. “Who are you sending to talk to the girls?”
He shrugged, walked past her. “Probably me. Why?”
“They’re two ten-year-olds who are hurt and scared. Send one of the young guys. And tell him not to cross his arms and stand like you do.”
He rolled his eyes, pushed the screen door open. “Any other suggestions?” he mumbled over his shoulder.
“Yes. Next time, knock,” she said, slamming the door behind him. Not giving a damn that the whole house shook.
She found herself humming as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She went out on the deck, sat in the sunshine, and thought about how light she felt.
How free.
* * *
She makes a pan of lasagna in the afternoon and thinks about walking it over to Leo’s house an hour after she sees his car pull in the driveway. But she wants to give him some time alone. Some space to deal with what’s happened.
She’d come home from the hospital last night equal parts relieved and gutted. Relieved the girls were going to be okay.
But her body numb, her mind reeling.
Someone has died tonight, she kept thinking. Over and over and over.
She took a shower, curled up in bed, and just stayed there for hours, the scene at the tree house replaying in her head. Finally, she went into the bathroom and opened the bottle of sleeping pills she rarely used. They’d make her groggy in the morning, but she needed the relief.
Now she leans against the window frame when she sees another car pull into Leo’s driveway. Lillian emerges from the driver’s seat, carrying
a bouquet of flowers. She walks tentatively to Leo’s door, as though she’s not sure she really wants to be there.
Maggie grabs the lasagna off the counter and walks out of the house.
“Lillian,” she calls as she crosses the street. “We had the same idea. I’ve been waiting for a good time to drop this off. We can visit together.”
“Oh, I don’t want to visit. I’m just dropping these—” She pauses, glancing over Maggie’s shoulder.
They both turn as a police car parks in front of the house. A man Maggie doesn’t recognize gets out of the car. Although calling him a man is a stretch. He looks like a boy dressed up in a Halloween policeman costume.
“Afternoon,” he says, tipping his head. “Is this Leo Irving’s house?”
The door opens, as though Leo’s heard his name. He squints at the crowd on his doorstep. “Officer Mike,” he greets. “Hi, Maggie. Lillian. Come in.”
“Oh, no. I’m just dropping these off.” Lillian thrusts the flowers at him. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Me neither,” Maggie says, holding out the lasagna. “It just needs to be warmed. Or it can go in the freezer until you’re ready.”
“Just come in,” Leo says, stepping back and opening the door. “Everyone.”
“Good idea, actually,” Officer Mike says. “We have a picture of the potential woman. The more eyes on it, the better. Maybe someone will recognize her.”
They file into the house and follow Leo to the kitchen. Maggie opens the refrigerator and puts the lasagna on a shelf while the officer recounts how they went to the artist studio at Crow Farm.
“I spoke to the owner,” he says, looking at the notebook in his hand. “Greer McCallister. She said a woman has been staying at the studio most of the summer. We took a look, but it was empty. Owner hasn’t seen her for days. Not uncommon, apparently. She likes to give the artists their privacy. Owner said the woman’s name is Henley. Didn’t have a last name. Paid in cash.”
He looks up, raises his eyebrows. “Anything ringing a bell?”
Leo shakes his head. “I didn’t even know there was a studio there. I’m not exactly in touch with the artist community here.”
