Читать книгу Christmas in Key West - Cynthia Thomason, Cynthia Thomason - Страница 7

“HE’S GOT TWO WEEKS to pay a bunch of fines, Abby, or Reese Burkett’s going to arrest him.”

Abby had been unable to get her last conversation with her mother out of her mind. When Loretta had informed her of Huey’s latest trouble and its consequences, she had been furious. “Arrest him?” she’d practically shouted at her mom, though her anger had been directed at the island’s arrogant police captain. “Reese had better not lay a hand on Poppy.”

Now, two days later, as she neared Southard Street, Abby was ready to do whatever was necessary to protect her father. Once she’d calmed down, she had admitted that his behavior had gotten out of hand. She also recognized that she had the best chance of talking some sense into him and keeping him from going to jail. “You’re the one person Huey seems to tolerate these days,” her mother had said.

Abby smiled, thinking about the unique father-daughter bond they shared, a bond that had been tested over the years but remained strong because of weekly phone calls and genuine concern. But now, Abby had to admit her dad needed something more from her than a supportive, long-distance relationship. He needed to start behaving like a grown-up.

So, taking into account the month of personal days and vacation time she’d accumulated, Abby made a difficult decision. After turning over a mountain of paperwork to a colleague, and explaining her situation to the most vulnerable of her cases, she’d arranged for a leave from her job so she could stay in Key West through Christmas. Her involvement with the young women in her caseload didn’t end just because she was away, of course. She’d made sure everyone who depended on her had her cell phone number.

Leaving Atlanta had been difficult, but Abby was convinced she was doing the right thing for her family. If anyone could help Huey out of the mess he’d gotten himself into, it was her, not an island cop who thought he could change her dad by intimidating him. She only wished she could avoid Reese throughout her stay, as she had in the past, though she doubted that would be possible. Key West was, and always had been, a small town.

Thanksgiving Day was nearly over when Abby drove up to her old house with a couple of take-out turkey dinners on the floor of her car. She hadn’t told her father she was coming, for two reasons: she didn’t want him to worry about her making the long drive, and she didn’t want to answer questions about why she’d planned the trip.

As she pulled up the cracked cement driveway, she encountered debris that spread from the lawn into the street.

Much of it was charred and unrecognizable—and an indication that things were as bad as her mother had said. Abby parked, got out of her car and wrinkled her nose at the foul odor from the garbage.

Then she gazed up at the two-and-a-half-story house she’d grown up in. At one time she’d been proud that the 1857 mansion had been built by her great-great-great-grandfather Armand Vernay, a self-made millionaire during the island’s infamous shipwrecking days. Today, eleven months since her last visit, Abby only sensed decay and desperation around her, emphasizing even more the painful memories of the choices she’d made thirteen years ago, and the consequences she’d been forced to live with.

Scraggly oleander bushes, once brilliant with pink blossoms, now reached heights of more than ten feet and invaded the wraparound porch. Bare limbs chafed the delicate rippled glass in the ancient windows. The wide brick pathway, where once two people could walk arm in arm to the front door, barely allowed one person to climb the three steps without risk of scratching ankles on unkempt brambles. Most of the windows were shuttered, giving the house a sad, deserted feel.

Clutching the turkey dinners, she picked her way toward the porch, half expecting Huey to burst through the door. He always seemed to have a special radar where she was concerned, somehow knowing when she was around. Disappointed, she walked in the door, which was never locked, and called his name.

Silence. She stared into the parlor, noting the disarray. Mail, mostly flyers, littered Huey’s desk. Dust lay thick on the old mahogany pieces she used to polish with such care. She progressed down the hall, again calling for her father. Once in the kitchen, she set the turkey dinners on the table and peered out the window. Maybe he was in the backyard. She glanced at the overgrown bushes and a large, darkened patch of dirt that looked as though it had been burned—confirmation of Huey’s run-in with Reese.

Abby shook her head and returned to the hall. Maybe Poppy was napping. She’d go upstairs and awaken him, she decided, just before her cell phone rang. She pulled the phone from her jeans pocket, read the digital display and answered. “Mom?”

“Hi, honey. Have you arrived at Huey’s yet?”

“Yes, I just got here.”

“Good. I didn’t want to call and upset you while you were still on the road. I was afraid you’d drive too fast to get here.”

Abby sat heavily on the bottom step of the staircase. “Mom, what’s happened? Poppy’s not here.”

“I know.” Loretta paused. “Now, don’t think the worst, but he’s in the hospital.”

“The hospital?” Abby rose and hurried to the front door. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

“He fell, Abby. He’ll be okay, but he’s got a few bruises and a concussion. The doctors want to keep him overnight for observation.”

“My God. Poor Poppy.” She picked up her purse, which she’d dropped on the hall stand, and went outside. “I’ll head right over. Are you coming, too?”

“I went when I first heard, but once I knew Huey was okay, I came to work. You can call here at the Shack if you need me.”

“Okay. But wait, Mom, don’t hang up. How did it happen? Why did Poppy fall?”

Loretta breathed deeply. “You won’t like hearing this, Ab.”

“Mom…”

“Huey says Reese Burkett attacked him.”

ABBY’S HANDS SHOOK on the steering wheel as she drove the mile to the island hospital. She tried to picture Reese Burkett with her fingers wrapped around his neck. But instead of popping veins on his forehead, and broken blood vessels in his eyes, all that came to mind was a youthful, cocky smile and heavily lashed green eyes full of confidence and invincibility. That was Reese then. She had no idea what he looked like now, only that she would experience an admittedly selfish gratification in discovering he’d packed forty pounds onto his athletic frame and lost most of his thick dark hair. How dare he manhandle her father? She’d meet him in court, facing an abuse charge!

The sun was setting as she parked in the hospital lot and entered the lobby. Mechanically, she showed the required identification, had her picture taken and patted the ID sticker onto her blouse. She was used to hospital security regulations. In the course of her job, she visited many hospitals in the Atlanta area.

Huey was on the second floor. Abby exited the elevator, quickly scanned the directional signs for his room number and headed to the end of the hall. She heard Alex Trebek read an answer on Jeopardy, then recognized her dad’s voice giving the proper response before the contestants could buzz in.

Huey snapped his fingers as she entered the room. He’d gotten the Jeopardy question right.

Abby hurried to his bedside, then stopped short when she saw the bruise around his closed right eye. “Poppy!”

He turned to her, and a huge grin spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be. Baby girl! What are you doing here? You found out I was in this joint?”

“Not until I got into town, about thirty minutes ago. Mom phoned and told me you’d been admitted.”

He stared at her with his good eye. “So what are you doing here? It isn’t Christmas yet.”

“No, but I came early, to spend more time with you.”

“What? You’re staying through December?”

“That’s the plan.”

“That’s not like you, Abigail—taking off work so long.”

“It’s fine, Poppy. Everything’s covered.”

“But you never stay more than a couple of days.”

“I know, but this is different.” She pulled up a chair. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about me. I want to know what happened to you. How are you feeling?” She lifted the tube leading into his arm. “And what’s this for?”

He lowered the TV volume with his remote. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Everybody gets a drip of some kind, they tell me. That’s just sugar water or something.” He tapped the side of his head. “It’s the old noggin that’s giving me trouble. But they gave me something that makes Alex Trebek look like Loni Anderson.”

Abby leaned close. “What about your eye?”

“Oh, yeah, that. Haven’t had a shiner in years.”

She rested her hand on his arm. “Poppy, what happened? Tell me how you ended up in here.”

He snorted. “You need to ask your old beau about it, Abigail.”

“Don’t call him that. He was never my beau, and you know it. If Reese did this to you, I want to hear the details.”

“He did it, all right. Knocked me flatter than an IHOP pancake in my own front yard.” Huey suddenly sat up straight. He stared over Abby’s shoulder and gazed cantankerously at the doorway. “And there’s the abuser now. Come to try and put the cuffs on me again, Reese?”

Abby spun around, the chair legs scraping on the speckled linoleum. Her heart pounded. There he was, well built, still with a full head of hair. Damn you, Reese, she thought, hating that her chest clenched with resentment and heartache and other emotions that, if she analyzed them, might scare her to death.

She stood up and placed her hand over her stomach in an effort to calm the trembling inside. She hadn’t seen Reese in thirteen years. He’d matured, but he hadn’t really changed. At twenty-one, he’d given lots of girls reason to hope he would ask them out, her included, though at barely eighteen, she hadn’t sparked his interest. Until…She shook her head, banishing the image of that one night she’d tried so hard to forget, a night he obviously had.

As he walked toward her, Reese stared, obviously searching for her in the recesses of his mind. His lips twitched, as if he almost wanted to smile but figured it was inappropriate. He wiped his hand down the side of his jeans and held it out to her. “I can’t believe it. Is it really you, Abby?”

She refused his handshake—a small act of defiance to let him know she was aware of his role in this travesty of justice tonight. “It is,” she said, her voice harsh. “And I’ve arrived just in time, it seems.”

“Come to finish me off, did ya, Burkett?” Huey muttered. He tugged onAbby’s arm, getting her full attention. “Don’t leave the room, Abigail. I’m going to need a witness.”

“That won’t be necessary, Huey,” Reese said, twisting a ball cap in his hands. “I just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”

“How do you think I’m doing?” Huey said. “You roughed me up pretty good, Captain Burkett.” He pointed to his eye. “I may lose my vision in this one.”

Abby gasped. “Poppy, is that true?”

Reese frowned. “It’s not true. I’ve talked to the doctor. Your dad’s going to be fine.”

“Lucky for you,” Abby said. “If Poppy suffers any permanent injury because of what you did…”

Reese scratched the back of his head. “Abby, can I talk to you in the hallway?”

She glared at him with all the bravado she could muster. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Give me five minutes, Abby, please.”

She looked at her dad, who reached for the TV remote and punched up the volume a couple of notches. “Go ahead,” he said. “But don’t believe a word he says. He tried to arrest me today and it got ugly. That’s the truth of it.”

Reese shook his head. “I’m sorry, Huey. I apologized to you earlier, and I’m apologizing again. I didn’t want you getting hurt. You can’t think that I did.”

“Don’t ask me what was going on in your head, I just know what I felt when you attacked me. And I got the bruises to prove it.”

Reese stretched out his arm. “Abby?”

“Five minutes.” She stepped ahead of him, then walked a few feet down the hall.

“Can we find a place to sit and talk?” he asked.

She stayed where she was. “This is okay. I don’t want to be too far away in case Poppy calls me.”

“Fine.” Reese tucked the ball cap under his arm and ran his fingers through his hair. Strands fell onto his forehead, andAbby locked her gaze on the nurses’ station rather than stare at him. “I know how this must look to you,” he began.

“No, you don’t,” she said, focusing on his face again. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be out trying to hire a lawyer.”

“I don’t need a lawyer, Abby. What happened was unfortunate, but there was no physical abuse.”

She didn’t respond, letting him squirm. “Since you’re here, I assume Loretta called you.”

She nodded. “Thank goodness.”

“Right. Anyway, then she told you that Huey’s been starting fires on his property, which is an escalation of his other irritating antics.”

“And I’m sure that, as a representative of the police force, you did your duty and warned him to stop.”

“I did. Several times.”

“And he cooperated?”

“For now, yes. But it’s only been a few days. I also told him to get rid of a pile of burned, potentially toxic substances that remained from his last bonfire. The stuff is offensive to his neighbors. It stinks.”

Abby remained silent. She couldn’t very well argue the point. She’d experienced the foul odor herself.

“Anyway, responding to a complaint call from another resident of Southard Street, I went back to Huey’s place today and discovered that he had dumped the mess at the edge of his yard, with most of it spilling onto the street. That’s illegal dumping, violation of code number—”

“Never mind,” she interrupted. “I’m not arguing with you about minor infractions my father may have committed. I want to know why you manhandled a senior citizen, a man at least thirty years older than you.”

“I’m getting to that.”

She glanced at her wristwatch. “You’d better hurry. You’ve only got two minutes left.”

When he glared at her, she backed up a step. Perhaps she was hitting too hard.

“I told Huey I was going to arrest him. He deserved it, and damn it, Abby, I could still arrest him.”

“If you think you’re intimidating me with your threats, Reese, you’re wrong. I’m not the teenage girl who left this island years ago. I’ve experienced a few things—”

He held up his hand. “I don’t think for a minute you’re that same girl, Abby. I’m hoping you’re ready to hear a reasonable explanation for what happened.”

Reasonable? Abby quickly tamped down her anger by mentally counting to ten. Was he insinuating that her behavior thirteen years ago hadn’t been reasonable?

“In typical Huey fashion,” Reese continued, “your father refused to get in the car and come down to the station.”

Abby had no defense for that charge. She knew her father too well.

“He stood there over that trash like he was king of his self-made mountain, and wouldn’t budge. In fact, he even said that if I wanted him in the patrol car, I’d have to drag him into it.”

Abby could almost hear her dad’s voice.

“That did it, Abby. After I’d warned him time and again about breaking the laws in Key West, I’d reached my limit. I stepped around the trash heap, grabbed his arm and started to pull—gently, mind you—pull him to the car.”

“And what happened?”

“He yanked free, stumbled, slipped on something gooey at the edge of the yard and fell. Unfortunately, his head hit the mailbox, and that’s how he got the black eye. The other bruises and the concussion? Collateral damage, I suspect.”

She waited a moment, tapped her toe against the floor and said, “That’s the story you’re sticking with?”

Reese raised his hands. “Abby, that’s the story. Period. I called an ambulance, and the rest you know.”

She would definitely confirm this version with her father. In the meantime, she made a great show of checking her watch again. “We’re done here,” she said.

Reese reached out as if to touch her arm. She stepped away and he dropped his hand. “I’m sorry it happened,” he said. “That’s why I’m here tonight—to make sure Huey’s all right.”

“And you have,” she said. “You’re free to go and celebrate Thanksgiving.”

“Celebrating is the last thing on my mind,” he said. “But I will go.”

He walked to the elevator. Once inside, he pulled on the baseball cap and stared at her from under the bill. Then the doors closed, and Abby drew the first normal breath she’d taken in more than five minutes. But at least the worst was over. She’d seen Reese again and she hadn’t melted or fainted or even babbled. She’d stood her ground pretty well. Now, though, as she went back to her dad’s room, she realized that nearly every limb of her body was trembling. She’d have to work on controlling that reaction.

Jeopardy had ended. The TV was silent. “Buzz the nurse, Abby,” Huey said. “Earlier they told me I could go home if I had somebody to observe me through the night. I guess you’ve got a good enough pair of eyes, so I want out of this place.”

“Okay, Poppy. I’ll see if I can arrange for your discharge.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “So what’d you think of Burkett after all these years?” he asked. “He’s a piece of work, isn’t he? Officious son of—”

“Let’s not talk about that now,” she said. “Let’s just get you home. Those two turkey dinners I brought might still be edible.”