Читать книгу The Road To Echo Point - Carrie Weaver - Страница 10

VI SPUN HER BODY to the left, taking Daisy with her. Enraged shrieks beat against her ears. Her arm inched higher, over the lady’s chin.

Then everything went red. Vi howled with outrage. The old woman was biting her.

Teeth ground down, never releasing. No dentures here.

The door flung open. Ian’s gaze swept over her and his mother.

“Help me!” Vi screamed. The jaws clenched harder. Pain shot up her arm, radiating along her shoulder. Flashes of light erupted behind her eyes. Heat rushed over her in waves, her knees threatened to buckle.

Ian strolled toward them.

Couldn’t the man see she was dying?

“Hurry,” she yelled.

Teeth. Pain.

“Shh,” he soothed. “You calm down, she’ll calm down.” His tone was conversational, as if they discussed the weather.

The vice on her arm eased a fraction.

“Good.” He continued to saunter toward them, his voice low.

Vi tried for a fair imitation of his Mr. Roger’s cheerful croon. Through clenched teeth, she sang, “She’s killing my freaking arm.”

“It’s not your freaking arm I’m worried about.”

“It worries me,” she barked.

The vise tightened again.

“Mom, dinner’s ready.” He held out his hand to the woman. “We don’t want it to get cold.”

Vi cautiously relaxed her grip on the woman.

The jaws unclenched.

Vi backed away, ever so slowly. She didn’t dare breathe until she was out of biting distance.

“Why isn’t this woman in the hospital?”

“Because hospitals won’t take her. This is a chronic problem, not acute. And this is her home. She belongs here.”

The tiny woman faced her. Sweat dripped down her cheek. Saliva pooled at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes had lost their sparkle, dulled by confusion.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Vi. Remember?”

“I don’t know a Vi,” she stated. Turning to Ian, her voice shaky, she asked, “Do I?”

He stepped over to his mother’s side. “This is Vi, Mom. She’s our guest for dinner.”

A radiant smile broke over the woman’s face. She must have been quite beautiful at one time. “Of course, dear. Our guest.”

“I WON’T STAY,” Vi hissed. “I’m not qualified for this.”

“Sure you’re qualified. You think on your feet. And you know a mean half nelson.” Ian gave her a lopsided grin.

His poor attempt to distract her with humor almost worked. The fact that he had a sense of humor came as a complete surprise to Vi.

“That woman is a danger. To herself. To me. She needs professional help. Wh-what would have happened if she’d thrown herself through that window?”

His grin faded.

“She didn’t. And you were there. You handled it. Once you understand her a little better, you’ll do great.”

“Look, I can’t take care of a houseplant. Or pets. You’ve obviously overestimated my capabilities.”

Ian scratched his head. “It’s usually not this intense. It’ll take a little time for Daisy to adjust to having you around,” he said. “I’m sure you can handle it, or I wouldn’t ask.”

“There’s got to be somebody else. How about a private nurse? Someone who specializes in this kind of thing. I’ll help pay.”

He brushed his hand over his face. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Nurses don’t come cheap.” Then he named an astronomical figure. “I can’t risk using up Daisy’s nest egg. She might need it…later. And I doubt you’re willing to foot the bill.”

Vi’s heart sank as she mentally inspected her savings account. There was no way she could swing it—not if she wanted to send money to L.A. every month. And there was no question about that. It kept her conscience clean.

“I’ll stay a week. That ought to be long enough for the dog to get back up to par….” It was a stab in the dark, but she had to try.

“The vet said a month at the minimum. I’m not risking permanent damage to Annabelle, just to make life easier for you. You don’t have a choice. No Daisy, no driver’s license. No driver’s license, no job.”

There was a hard edge to his voice as he scraped mangled Tater Tots and smeared ketchup into the garbage. The remnants of microwaved hot dogs, stale buns and carrot sticks soon followed. The meal made campus food look gourmet.

“Look, I’ll buy you another dog. AKC, pick of the litter, whatever it takes.”

“Annabelle cost over fifteen thousand dollars. Even if you could cough up that kind of money, a dog like her takes a year and half to train.”

“Fifteen thousand dollars?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dog basket in the corner of the kitchen, where the subject of their discussion lay, head on paws, big brown eyes following every movement, every nuance. “That cost fifteen thousand dollars? Boy, did you get screwed.”

“That happens to be a member of our family. She’s worth every penny and then some. Believe me, by the time your four weeks are up, you’ll agree.”

“You never told me why this dog is so important. I can see your mother needs help, but, well, wouldn’t she be more comfortable in an institution? Where there are people trained to handle her problems?”

He crossed his arms. “Home is the best place for her. Annabelle has been trained to help keep her here. Wandering is a big problem.”

“That’s what I’ve read.” Vi mulled over her options.

“I can do two weeks. That’ll use up all my personal and sick time, but I think I can make it work. After that you’re on your own.”

“No deal. This mess is your fault. You’re here till Annabelle’s well enough to work. You leave and I’ll have the judge issue an arrest warrant so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

No counteroffer. That wasn’t good. This was his turf and his rules. It went against everything in her being to do it, but she had no choice but to bid against herself.

“Three weeks.”

He folded his arms over his chest, his mouth set in a thin line. “Uh-uh. Four weeks. And that’s only if Annabelle heals without complications. It could be six.”

Vi pictured her future sliding down the drain in six weeks. Jerry Jones could be well on his way to stealing her promotion.

But knowing when to concede was one of her better survival skills—she’d learned that at home a long time ago. She’d let Ian think he’d won, this time. “It seems I don’t have a choice.”

The man nodded, accepting her apparent defeat. A crooked grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. He had dimples. What a waste.

“It’ll be interesting to see who wins. You or Daisy.”

“I don’t lose. Ever.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted, an eyebrow raised in speculation. “I’ll take the shift tonight. Tomorrow while Daisy’s at the center, we’ll discuss her care. You better get some sleep, you’ll need it.

VI FLINCHED. Her heart pounded. Some sort of noise?

She struggled to focus. It was dark, only vague shadows of heavy furniture against pearly white walls.

Where the heck was she?

A strange bed, high off the ground, a footboard with swirls of black against misty gray. Intricate, hand-worked wrought iron.

The noise. There it was again. Pounding, yelling, more pounding.

Daisy. The old lady. What was going on?

Vi burrowed farther under the covers, muffling a curse. With the bedspread over her head, she could barely hear it. Ian had promised to take this shift.

Sure enough, a muffled, “I’m coming, Mom.”

Something heavy thudded against the wall, then footsteps dragged outside her door. It was like something out of the Simpson trial. Had Kato been this scared?

She clenched a corner of the crisp muslin sheet.

More hollering. A doorknob rattled. The pounding resumed.

Vi couldn’t take it anymore.

Fresh air hit her in a cool wave as she pawed her way out of her cocoon. Throwing on her robe, she slid her feet into her slippers.

The door latch was cool beneath her hand, the door opened easily, silently. She sucked in a breath, rattled by what she saw—Ian, a pair of Arizona State University maroon-and-gold sweatpants slung low on his hips and nothing else. Shirtless, he was more Greek god than hulking monster.

Ian fumbled in his pocket and took out a key. He barely got it clear of the lock when a figure came through the doorway and bounced off his chest.

He didn’t grab the figure. Instead, he stood there, arms hanging at his side, talking. Just talking.

Daisy jabbered in rapid-fire succession. Not a word made sense.

Ian inclined his head as he spoke to Daisy, his voice low, reassuring. “It’s okay, Mom, I’m here. It’s me. Ian. Everything’s okay.”

The jabbering slowed to English. “I was trapped. Somebody kidnapped me and locked me in there to die.”

“No, Mom. I locked the door so you wouldn’t get lost.”

“I don’t get lost.” Daisy straightened, the top of her head barely reaching Ian’s chest.

“Sometimes you don’t remember so good.”

“I remember perfectly.” She smoothed her wild hair. Stabbing a finger in Vi’s direction, she shrieked, “She did it. She broke into our house and locked me in my room. She stole my paintings!”

“Shhh. You remember Vi, our guest.” He laid a hand on his mother’s withered arm. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the bathroom.”

“Yes, of course,” she murmured.

The two walked down the hall, hand in hand, one robust, the other tiny and confused.

Vi shook her head and shuffled back to bed, where she flip-flopped for more than an hour. What about this Alzheimer’s stuff? What was it she had read? Progressive, no cure. Eventually fatal. Not a pretty picture. The old lady would die. But what happened in the meantime?

Sighing, Vi contemplated the mess she’d made. Her futile attempt to outrun the past had sent ripples through three lives, four if she counted the dog. The thought of Annabelle with her bandaged hind leg and Daisy with her irrational tantrums made Vi want to crawl under the covers and hide. She’d messed up big time and turned life upside down for everyone involved.

Was she any better than her dad? Letting her emotions get the upper hand until she lost control and did something stupid? Something that hurt another living being?

Vi shook her head. She wouldn’t accept that. There was a world of difference between her and her dad. She intended to make things right for Daisy and Ian. But she wasn’t a trained nurse, or even a social worker. What if she screwed up? The woman could have gone through that glass panel today. If the fall hadn’t gotten her, the glass would have sliced her to shreds. This was too much for them to expect of her.

The decision wasn’t easy, but it was best for everyone involved. She would leave in the morning. Call her attorney. Have him explain everything to the judge. Sell her car, if necessary, to pay for a qualified nurse….

IAN POURED HIMSELF another cup of coffee. Thank God for the senior center. Tuesdays and Thursdays were what kept him going. The first few hours were exhilarating. Freedom beckoned, with endless possibilities. What should he do first? Read? Jog? Work at the computer? Sleep maybe? At nine in the morning, the world looked rosy.

But the crash always came. Along about noon, he’d come down off his high. The responsibility would drop on his shoulders like a rack of free-weights. By two o’clock his gut started churning, tying itself in knots. Fear? Disappointment? Dread for sure. Maybe even a little guilt. He could do better. Be more patient.

Vi staggered around the corner, interrupting his thoughts. Her pink terry cloth robe was belted haphazardly, her black hair wild. She scratched her head, leaving a big cow lick behind.

He shook his head. This couldn’t possibly be the same woman. He let his gaze rove from her face, down her neck, to where the nubbly fabric dipped between her breasts. The ratty old robe was an improvement over the power suits and country club casual stuff. Breasts?

Ian shoved his mind into reverse.

Breasts. The boardroom barracuda had breasts. Imagine that.

He shook his head, bemused.

“Morning, Vi,” he drawled, his gaze seeking out more visual clues, from her shaggy pink slippers upward. Breasts meant hips and a waist. But the bulk of her robe kept everything else hidden.

He stifled a sigh of disappointment. The deprivation was getting to him. Abstinence had never been one of his strong points.

“Morning,” she mumbled, shuffling past.

He winced as she slammed a cupboard door. So did she.

“Where the hell do you keep the coffee cups?”

“My, aren’t we cheery this morning. Upper left.”

She turned, briefly, to fix him with a bloodshot glare.

“Too much partying last night?” He hid a smile in his coffee cup. That’d get a reaction.

Vi grunted, noncommital.

Was she even conscious?

She poured herself a hefty cup of coffee and gulped down a good third of it. The woman might have nerves of steel, but her esophagus had to be cast iron. She closed her eyes and sighed with bliss.

“Cream, sugar?”

“Uh-uh.”

He raised an eyebrow. Impressive.

“Sorry about all the noise last night.”

She waved a hand and grunted as she shuffled past him, back the way she had come.

It was at least half an hour before she returned for her second cup. This time there was a little life in her step. And the light of battle in her eyes.

She poured another healthy cup and slurped away.

He waited. He was good at that. A fight was coming, he was sure of it. Couldn’t really blame her—who would voluntarily stay here? It was different for him. This was his promise to keep, not hers.

He’d hoped things would be different. Hoped her arrival would come on a good day. When she’d fall under Daisy’s charm before she realized what she was getting into. And maybe, just maybe, she’d stick with them until Annabelle could get around under her own steam.

Ian shook his head, amazed at his own gullibility. He could dream, couldn’t he?

At best, she’d last a couple weeks. He needed to make sure they got at least that. But how? He couldn’t hold her by force. Maybe appeal to her humanity?

One look at her straight spine and hard gaze and he gave up on empathy. The woman didn’t have much. Nope, he’d have to appeal to her sense of self-preservation.

“Where’s the dog?” a gravelly voice asked. He did a double take and, sure enough, the words seemed to have come from her. Maybe her esophagus wasn’t indestructible after all.

“I carried her out back. There’s a fenced yard, lots of shade. It’s the place where she knows she’s off duty. Fresh air and sunshine’ll do her good.”

“The faster she heals, the better. Where’s…um… Daisy?”

“Senior center. You’ll learn her schedule pretty fast.”

Vi crossed her arms over her chest. “I won’t be here long enough to learn schedules. I’m sorry about your situation, but I’m not the right person for the job. I’ll figure out another way to make this up to you.”

Ian bit back an oath and reminded himself that this woman had no way of knowing just how precarious the situation was. And how few options he had. “Whether you think you’re right for the job or not, you’re all I’ve got. The only way you can ‘make this up to me’ is to commit to being here at least a month.”

She met his gaze. “I’m leaving. Today. I don’t care how much it costs—I’ll hire a nurse or something. Someone who has experience with this kind of thing.”

“The hell you will. You’ve seen what happens when someone new is introduced into Daisy’s environment. We’re over the worst of it, and she’ll adjust to you. Nurses work in shifts. It would be constant upheaval. No way.”

“Come on, be reasonable.”

“I am being reasonable.” Ian clenched his jaws and vowed not to wrap his hands around Vi’s throat. “You need to step up to the plate and take responsibility for what you’ve done.”

“I’ve taken responsibility all right. I’m here, aren’t I? I simply think there has to be an alternative to my staying here. One that will be better for everyone.”

“Believe me, there’s no alternative. Even if Daisy would accept several nurses in the house, I doubt you could get them to promise to stay out here for the duration. I have no intention of subjecting my mother to constant change.”

Vi’s eyes flashed with panic, then anger. “There has to be another way. I’ll work something out with the judge. Something we can all live with.”

“Yeah, Ralph seemed real persuaded with your arguments the other day.”

“I’ll hire an attorney.”

He checked out a speck of dirt under his fingernails. Never let ’em see you sweat. Good strategy on the football field, even better in life.

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said? Still need that job of yours? Remember, no Daisy, no driver’s license. No license, no job. That would be a shame.” He made a tsk-tsking sound.

Her chin came up, her full lips compressed into a line. “A good attorney will make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“So you think your lawyer’ll make it all go away? Pull the proper strings?”

“That’s the way the world works.”

“Yeah, unfortunately you’re right,” he conceded. “But, see, Judge Tanner is more than just an old coot playing at law. He’s part of one of the oldest ranching families in Arizona. This is kind of a…retirement job.”

“Retirement job?” She nibbled on her lower lip. Nice teeth. He had her now.

“Sure. He was a Superior Court Judge till his heart attack about ten years ago. Then he decided to come home to Echo Point, where he could make the rules and play the game his way. Eccentric, I think they call it. But he’s got more pull than any lawyer you could hire. And you know what? He’s been Daisy’s…uh, admirer for most of those ten years.”

“Oh.”

She pulled her robe more closely around her. It was almost disappointing to see the light of victory fade from her eyes. A good challenge always revved up his competitive juices. But not this time. The risk was too great.

“Hey, look, truth is, sometimes I don’t want to be here. But Daisy needs me. And she needs you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy. Not you, your job, or anything else is going to get in the way of that. Now it’s time to set a few ground rules. About your vocabulary—”

“She’s your responsibility, not mine.”

It was true, too true. His debt, his responsibility. All the crap he’d put his mom through—the cops dragging him home in the middle of the night, the petty theft, the scum he’d hung out with. That, on top of his dad’s death.

Yeah, he owed her. Big time. And he’d promised to keep her safe, in her own home. And in one split second, this she-devil had almost destroyed the house of cards he’d built. Annabelle was the only thing standing between Daisy and a nursing home. He couldn’t do it alone, much as he wanted to.

No, Vi was the only solution. Otherwise, he’d have to break a string of promises. And he didn’t break promises.

“Lady, you did the crime, you do the time. You can consider her your responsibility, too. For the next month treat her as if she were your own mother.”