Читать книгу The Cradle Robber - E. Joan Sims - Страница 8

Chapter Five

Mother finally convinced me there was nothing more we could do until we got some help. She had already called Billy to make sure his family was all right and to enlist his aid in procuring some heavy equipment to move the fallen trees. Until the driveway was cleared and the walnut tree was lifted off the garage, we were trapped. The very thought made me crazy to get away, even though Cassie was coming home on her own and I really had nowhere to go.

Somewhere deep inside, my rational self recognized that my impatience and irritability were aftereffects of the storm, but that didn’t keep me from behaving like a spoiled brat all afternoon.

Mother went to a great deal of trouble to make lunch for us in a kitchen with no electricity. She dragged the gas grill out of the corner and prepared shrimp kebabs with pineapple chicken and coconut rice.

“Why in the world did you fix all this food?” I asked petulantly. “It was just a tornado, not the end of the world.”

She smiled pleasantly at me over the lovely table she had set in the corner of the back porch. The sunlight painted rainbows on the heavy white damask tablecloth as it passed through the stems of delicate Waterford goblets. Her best silver cutlery gleamed next to the finest Wedgwood porcelain. I stared at the plump, perfectly grilled shrimp on my beautiful plate and burst into tears.

Thoroughly ashamed and undone, I hung my head until my chin almost touched my chest and whispered an apology.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You should. You’ve been through this before,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean?”

“Post-traumatic stress—from your experiences in San Romero.”

“Don’t be silly,” I hooted. “There’s a big difference between rescuing your daughter from a bloodthirsty mob and spending a night under the stairs because of a little storm.”

“Not such a little storm,” answered Horatio as he climbed over a limb and opened the screen door.

He walked around behind my mother’s chair and gently kissed her behind the ear. She closed her eyes and clasped his hands. Tiny lines of stress eased around her mouth and eyelids as she smiled. She sat back in her chair, and I realized for the first time what an effort it had been for her to remain calm and collected. This meal, the elegant place settings, and the elaborate food had been her attempt to exert some control over the chaos that nature had created. I felt even more embarrassed by my childish behavior.

“Please sit down, Horatio,” I said. “I’ll get another place setting. You sit in my chair and eat while everything is still hot.”

I hopped up and urged him into the chair against his protests. His arguments were feeble, and I could tell he was nearly exhausted.

“How about a glass of champagne, Mother? Don’t you think it would be the perfect touch?”

“Absolutely, Paisley, darling! That’s the spirit!”

Horatio thought of our toast, “Here’s to high winds and higher hearts!” but he took no more than a token sip of bubbly.

“Sorry, m’dears, but I have to get back to the shop. The highway patrol called shortly before I left for lunch. Another casualty of the storm, I’m afraid. A pilot radioed that he spotted a body just past the end of the runway as he was taking off.”

“You’re kidding! That must have been the reason for the buzzards.”

“I suppose you’re right, Paisley,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection myself.” Horatio covered Mother’s hand with his. “Anna, you might have to trade me in on a new model. I seem to be getting somewhat dull of wit.”

“Nonsense, Horatio,” protested Mother. “Nevertheless, we must all husband our energies during the next few days. We still have a long way to go to reach normalcy again. My friends report more damage to Rowan Springs than I ever imagined. Is it true, Horatio?”

“I’m afraid so, my dear. The high school gymnasium is destroyed. And part of the roof of the adjacent classroom building is at present in the middle of the football field. The courthouse is virtually the only building downtown without any damage. Oh, and Celestine’s building. Of course, she has had to close down like everyone else until the electricity is restored, but she was the luckiest one on Main Street. The sporting goods store on the corner is a total loss. And from what I hear, Bruce Hawkins is about the only one on Main Street who had enough insurance to cover his losses.”

Hawkins was Mother’s lawyer. Several years ago, he remodeled the old Capitol Theater and made his offices an homage to movies of the forties and fifties. He actually had old movie posters and publicity stills with autographs of the stars. I was really glad none of his treasures had come to harm, but the thought of all the damage Horatio had described made me tear up again.

“Paisley, are you all right, dear?”

“Of course, Mother.” I got up and fussed with the food still warming on the grill to hide my emotions. “More shrimp, Horatio? There’s plenty left.”

“Thank you, but no. Miles to go before I sleep and all that, you know. Thanks for the luncheon, Anna. It was exquisite as always. And just the perfect touch.” He winked broadly. “You always rise to the occasion.” Horatio gallantly touched the back of Mother’s extended hand with his lips and headed for the back door. “Call me if you need me, my dears. And please let me know when our Cassandra arrives. I cannot wait to see her.”

I watched the old man pick his way through the fallen limbs. He was almost twice my age, but he was still strong and agile. As I turned back around to help Mother clear the table, I felt my heart flip-flop in a hollow chest. Suddenly all the air was gone from my lungs and my vision was full of sparkling black dots. I grabbed one of the center posts of the porch and fought for a clear head. Mother’s voice echoed in my ears making no sense whatsoever for a full minute.

“…might need some help. What do you think, dear?”

“Oh, er, sure. Whatever, Mother,” I answered, hoping that would be sufficient for the moment. Eager to cover up my near lapse of consciousness, I grabbed the plates and silverware and headed for the kitchen. She followed, prattling on, and thankfully giving me more clues as to what I had agreed to do.

“We can start by visiting Miss Lolly and her sister. They seem to be quite self-sufficient and very capable of taking care of each other in a crisis, but they are getting on in years.”

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” I snorted. My head had cleared and I was beginning to feel like my old nasty self again. “Miss Lolly is eighty if she’s a day, and her sister is older than that.”

Mother ignored me. “Some nice cream of potato soup and homemade corn muffins would be nice, I think.”

“And just how are we going to accomplish that little culinary miracle without any electricity?”

“You were a Girl Scout, dear. There are ways.”

I grumbled and mumbled as I washed and dried her china and silver. The last thing I wanted to do was play Lady Bountiful to a bunch of Mother’s crotchety little old lady friends. I had too many other things to worry about.

A precious porcelain cup almost slipped out of my hands as my heart lurched and fluttered wildly against my ribs once again. I leaned against the sink and held on for dear life. This time I was frightened out of my wits.

“Cassie’s here, darling!”

I wiped the cold sweat from my brow with the dishtowel, then threw it towards the sink as I hurried to the back door. If I were having a heart attack, I wanted my daughter’s sweet face to be the last thing I saw.

Cassie was standing up on one of the bigger limbs looking around at the storm damage. In spite of the warm weather, she wore her dark hair down. It hung straight and shining past her shoulders. And somehow between final exams she had found the time to get a really terrific tan. Her slim arms and long legs were the color of cinnamon. She looked like a million dollars in khaki Bermuda shorts and a simple white cotton tee shirt.

“Oh, dear,” murmured Mother. “I hope she didn’t travel like that.”

“Mother, please don’t start!”

“But Paisley, someone has to tell her,” she whispered. “You obviously don’t care, but, thank heaven, some of us still have standards.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” I hissed.

“What are you two fighting about?” called Cassie, gaily. “I should think you’d be so happy to be alive after all this you’d cut out that silly crap.”

She jumped off the limb and picked up a dilapidated old backpack that had definitely seen better days. One strap was hanging loose, and the zipper was half open, allowing her clothes, including several pieces of lacy underwear, to peek out unashamedly.

Mother opened her mouth again, but I flew out the back door and down the walk before she could utter another critical remark.

I hugged my beautiful daughter as hard as she would let me. Her hair smelled like fresh flowers and her skin really did have the scent of cinnamon.

“Wow, honey! You look gorgeous,” I said with a happy smile.

“That’s not what Gran thinks? That’s what you all were arguing about, isn’t it?”

She untangled herself from my arms and picked up an even rattier leather bag that was old enough to vote when we escaped from San Romero with her dolls packed inside.

“Never mind,” she sighed when I didn’t answer. “I know. And honestly, I’ll try to be patient with her this summer; but you gotta understand, in some circles I am considered quite a terrific looking broad.”

“Darling, she thinks so, too. It’s just that she believes you should dress more conservatively when you travel. And she doesn’t like old, well,…old beat-up things. Didn’t she send you some new luggage?”

A look of distaste distorted Cassie’s perfect features for a moment.

“Yuck! Burgundy tapestry with big, ugly, green leaves! I sent it right back to Macy’s and told them to credit her account.”

“Cassie, that’s rude!”

“Don’t you start, Mom! And it’s no more rude than having the impertinence to pick out something as personal as luggage and force it on me under the guise of a gift.”

I smiled. At least I was familiar with the way this wind blew. Cassie and her grandmother had been fighting the same old battle since she was old enough to talk.

Cassie had to park the rental car down on the road because of the fallen tree across the driveway. I helped her unload her things and carry them up the hill without giving any thought to the effort it took. It wasn’t until we had finished and were sprawled out on the back porch enjoying some iced tea that I remembered I was supposedly having a heart attack. I was hot and sweaty, but the old ticker was beating with a calm regularity beneath my breast.

“You’re really good for what ails me, sweetie,” I grinned.

Cassie looked at me with quick concern.

“What’s wrong, Mom? You’re not sick are you?”

I knew better than to alarm her. It had taken quite a few therapy sessions before she had overcome the abrupt way she had lost her father. I was sure that fear was still there, not far beneath the surface.

“No, of course not, darling. Slightly shaken, only. The tornado threw me a bit, that’s all. We were really lucky. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Absolutely! And that’s what scared you half to death. You realized how random the world is—that really bad things can happen without any rhyme or reason—and you have no control whatsoever.”

I sat up closer to the edge of my chair and leaned towards her.

“Then why didn’t Gran react the way I did? Why isn’t she having aftershocks like me?”

“Are you kidding,” laughed my daughter. “Gran would never admit that she doesn’t have absolute control over everything all the time. I’m sure she thinks she either prayed or willed away the storm and saved the day.”

I lay back in the chaise and took a long sip of tea. What Cassie said made sense. In San Romero we had been in great physical danger, but there was something we could do to save ourselves. I had been too busy saving our hides to worry about anything.

“I was scared, too,” admitted Cassie in a quiet little girl’s voice. “I heard about it on the radio this morning. When they said six people were killed…”

I hopped up immediately and hugged my child. My fears were silly next to the memory of her childhood terror.