Читать книгу Missing Pieces - Heather Gudenkauf, Heather Gudenkauf - Страница 9

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SIDE BY SIDE, Sarah and Jack made their way across the hospital parking lot, sharp pellets of rain striking their skin. They stepped through the main entrance and were immediately assaulted with the uniquely antiseptic odor of health-care facilities. The hospital was clean but dated. Institutional-green walls were lined with faded Impressionist prints and the carpet was worn and thin. Jack inquired about Julia at the information desk and they were directed to the fifth floor.

Once upstairs Jack hesitated outside the room. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said softly, rubbing his eyes. Sarah slid her hand into his and waited. She knew how difficult this was for him, that coming home would release a floodgate of memories and emotions that he had kept locked up inside himself for decades.

Finally, Jack knocked lightly, pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was dim. The lights were off; the shades were drawn. The redolence of death hung in the air, and it was stifling.

Sarah’s eyes locked on the tiny elderly woman lying in the hospital bed. Asleep or unconscious, it was difficult to know. Next to her, Sarah heard Jack inhale sharply. Beneath the oxygen mask, Julia’s skin was bruised and pale. What appeared to be bits of dried blood clung to her tightly curled white hair, a section shaved away and covered with a thick bandage. She was connected to an IV filled with clear liquid. Both of her arms and hands were casted and her right leg was held immobile in a brace from toe to pelvis. A sense of dread washed over Sarah and she rubbed her arms, trying to scrub away the chill.

“Jesus,” Jack murmured, tracing the tips of his fingers over his aunt’s right forearm. “All this from a fall?”

The room was drafty and the mechanical hum of the medical equipment filled the air. If it weren’t for the heart monitor that Julia was connected to, it would be difficult to know she was still breathing.

On the bedside table was a photograph of Julia and Hal from early in their marriage. Julia was young and hugely pregnant, wearing a smile of pure joy. Hal’s eyes were firmly fixed on Julia. They were obviously crazy about each other. Next to Julia’s bed was a set of rosary beads and a daily devotional. Someone had tucked a handmade pink-and-yellow postage-stamp quilt around her small, diminished frame. A powdery, rose-petal scent emanated from the old fabric but couldn’t quite mask the odor of iodine and illness that permeated the room. Sarah wondered who had placed these comforts from home so lovingly around the hospital room. Hal, she guessed.

“Jack?” came a voice from behind them. Startled, they both turned to find a small woman with dark, curly hair and large green eyes that shone with warmth. Sarah recognized her from Christmas photos exchanged each year and the photographs didn’t do her justice. Her heart-shaped face was unlined and pale, a stark contrast to her black curls. Her full lips curved into a disarming smile revealing a deep dimple in her left cheek. She was beautiful.

“Jack,” the woman said again, and Sarah sensed a tone of relief in her voice.

“Celia,” he said, and smiled, perhaps for the first time since they had arrived in Iowa. The woman stepped forward to wrap her arms around him and Sarah felt as if she had suddenly disappeared into the room’s white walls.

“It’s so good to see you. I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said into his ear.

Sarah had never met Celia, the woman married to Jack’s cousin, Dean. In fact, the last time Jack had gone home to Penny Gate was for Dean and Celia’s wedding. Sarah had stayed behind with the twins, who were under a year old at the time. It was a quick trip, just two nights and three days. Three days in Penny Gate is more than enough, Jack had said, but looking back, Sarah wondered if Jack was relieved that she opted to stay behind.

Sarah had looked forward to finally meeting Celia in person. They had talked briefly on the phone several times over the years, exchanged Christmas cards. But now she couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the woman.

Jack pulled away from their embrace and took a step backward, holding Celia by the forearms to get a better look. “Of course I came.”

For the first time Celia seemed to notice Sarah. “Sarah?” she asked, and Jack nodded in affirmation.

“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you in person,” Celia said, drawing her into a tight hug that felt a little too familiar. “All the nice things Jack has said about you, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” Celia looked around the room. “Where are the girls? Did you bring them?”

“No, no,” Sarah said. “They couldn’t make it.” She was about to explain how the girls were tied up with school when Jack’s cousin, Dean, appeared in the doorway and diverted her attention. He was a tall, broad man who wore the weathered look of a tired farmer and a son worn down with worry.

He didn’t look like the same recklessly handsome man she had last seen twenty years ago when he was the best man at their wedding. He had gained well over fifty pounds and his thick dark hair had disappeared. His face was scoured and lined by hours spent out in the fields beneath the blazing Iowa sun.

“Jack,” Dean said, and the two men embraced with heavy claps on the back. “Thanks for coming.” Dean pulled away and swiped at his eyes with the back of one large hand. “I know it means a lot to Mom that you’re here. She thinks the world of you.”

“I’m so sorry about Julia,” Sarah said, and reached out her arms as he pulled her into a hug. “What are the doctors saying?”

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “She has a fractured skull and broken bones. Almost too many to count. But she’s a strong old bird.”

“What happened?” Jack asked, looking down at his aunt. Sarah knew that he was thinking the same thing she was: it was a miracle this elderly wisp of a woman was still alive.

“All we know is that she fell down the stairs sometime early yesterday evening. Amy was the one who found her and called 9-1-1.”

“How’s your dad doing?” Sarah asked. “I bet he’s just sick about it.”

“He’s doing okay. I don’t think he can believe this is happening. He’s down in the cafeteria with Amy, getting something to eat.”

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of Amy for weeks,” Jack said, “but she never answers her phone.”

Dean hesitated before speaking. “That was something I was hoping to talk to you about.”

“Why don’t we take a walk and get some air,” Celia said to Sarah, but Jack shook his head.

“I don’t mind if Sarah stays if you don’t,” Jack said. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s about Amy,” Dean explained. “Let’s go outside.”

They moved into the hallway and Jack looked expectantly at his cousin. “Is Amy okay? Did something happen?”

“We’re worried about her,” Celia said uncomfortably.

“I hate to spring this on you,” Dean said, scratching the back of his neck. “And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but Amy’s been having a hard time lately.”

“Of course she’s having a hard time,” Jack said with confusion. “Julia’s like a mother to her.”

“It’s more than that,” Dean said. “She was acting strange before the fall, too.”

“Has she been drinking again?” Jack asked. Sarah thought of Jack’s dad and his drinking. Alcoholism ran in families, but Jack drank only socially, never allowing it to impair his thinking.

“I think so, maybe pain pills, too. She lost her job at the motel a few weeks ago.”

“She’s worked there for over two years. Do you know what happened?”

“She was showing up late, not showing up at all—that’s what I heard.”

Two nurses dressed in green scrubs brushed passed them and Sarah’s eyes followed them down the depressingly dim corridor. She noticed on the ceiling that a brown spot had bloomed against the white plaster and rainwater dripped rhythmically into a large bucket below. She imagined mold and mildew festering behind the walls.

“Amy walks around like a zombie half the time and she’s lost a lot of weight. I just don’t want you to be shocked when you see her.”

“How’s she paying her bills?” Jack asked. “Has she found another job yet?”

“I don’t think so, but she’s still living in that little rental house on Oleander, so she hasn’t been evicted yet. I’m guessing that my mom and dad have been giving her some money to get by.” Dean shifted his weight uncomfortably. “They’re on a fixed income themselves and don’t have a lot of extra cash to spare.”

“Hal and Julia shouldn’t have to pay Amy’s way,” Jack said quietly. “She’s a grown woman.”

“We just thought you’d want to know,” Celia said. “I’ve tried talking to her, but she hasn’t been answering my calls, either.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak when something down the hallway caught his eye.

“Jack?” Sarah asked, but his eyes were fixed on a point in the distance, down the hall. He didn’t answer and Sarah repeated his name, this time more loudly. “What is it?” she asked as she turned and followed his sharp gaze, but all she saw was a doctor standing at the nurse’s station taking notes on a chart.

“Nothing,” Jack replied, and shook his head. Sarah thought he seemed confused. “It’s nothing,” he repeated with finality, and turned his attention back to them. “So, you think Amy’s been abusing pain pills? Have you talked to her about it?”

“My mom has. I know she was worried about her and they argued about it a few days before the fall.”

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try and talk to her before we go back home.”

“Here comes Hal now,” Celia said.

An elderly man wearing work boots and a frayed tan barn jacket approached. Though he was nearly six feet tall and broad-shouldered, he was a smaller, softer version of Dean. His bald head was speckled with age spots and sun damage, and his weary, deeply lined face lit up when he saw them. “Jack,” he said warmly. Behind thick glasses, his eyes glistened with emotion and worry. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Uncle Hal,” Jack said, reaching for the older man. They clung to each other for a long time and Jack closed his eyes as he settled comfortably into their embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Hal pulled away, smiling through tears. He took Jack’s face in his hands. “You know when she wakes up she’s going to give you hell for taking so long to come back home.”

Dean snickered and suddenly the tone felt lighter. Easier. “He’s right, you know. I can hear her when she wakes up. ‘You mean all I had to do is fall down a flight of stairs to get that boy to come home?’” Dean’s voice rose an octave as he mimicked Julia’s voice.

“That sounds about right,” Jack said, giving a small laugh. “You remember Sarah, don’t you?”

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Hal said as he embraced her. “Thanks for coming.”

Sarah watched as her husband fell into the comfortable banter of a family catching up after so many years of lost time. She was surprised by how easy it was, not even a hint of the devastation that had befallen them all that time ago. Jack and Hal interacted like a father and son, and Sarah could see the mutual love and respect in their eyes. She was so enrapt by this unseen side of Jack that she almost didn’t notice the small frail woman who had seemed to arrive from out of nowhere.

“Amy,” Celia said, “look who’s here.”

Amy’s brown eyes were flat and expressionless, and Sarah thought she looked even thinner than the last time she had seen her. Her pale skin was pulled tightly against her bones and seemed paper-thin. Almost translucent. Her hair was bleached a nearly colorless blond and was pulled back into a lank ponytail. Sarah could understand why Dean and Celia were so concerned about her. She looked sickly.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Amy said almost accusingly. She hesitated and then wrapped her reedlike arms around her brother. At first taken aback, Jack returned the embrace.

The last time they had seen Amy was four years earlier. She had called out of the blue all the way from Spokane, Washington. From what Sarah could gather, Amy had traveled there with a man and it ended badly. Jack made the drive to collect her and six hours later Amy arrived in Larkspur, haggard, bruised and hungover.

Sarah never quite understood the dynamic between Amy and Jack. She knew Amy had had a hard life and didn’t think she ever quite forgave Jack for going away to college and leaving her behind in Penny Gate. He didn’t talk to or see his sister very often, but when he did it was usually in conjunction with some major catastrophe, usually of Amy’s own making: a job lost unfairly, a poisonous relationship with a man, a brush with the law. After the phone calls Jack would hang up drained and distracted.

Jack murmured in Amy’s ear, too quietly for Sarah to hear, but she could tell by the way Amy’s demeanor seemed to soften that Jack had said something to ease her. She nodded and wiped her eyes, leaving behind black streaks of mascara beneath her eyes.

Sarah was suddenly overwhelmed at the sight of Jack comforting Amy. Blinking back tears, she could almost picture them as children, Jack the protective older brother, always looking after his fragile little sister. “Amy, it’s so good to see you,” Sarah said, taking a hesitant step toward her sister-in-law. “It’s been way too long.”

“Hi,” Amy said hoarsely, surprising Sarah by giving her a hug. The odor of cigarette smoke clung to Amy’s clothes and Sarah could feel the sharp point of each rib. Sarah carefully returned the embrace, afraid of squeezing too tightly against Amy’s thin frame. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” Sarah reached into her purse and pulled out a small package of tissues and offered them to Amy.

“Amy, did you get something to eat?” Celia asked.

Amy nodded and Celia gave her a pointed look.

“I did,” Amy said with annoyance. “You can even ask Hal.”

“She did eat,” Hal confirmed. “Not much, but then neither did I.”

“You need to take care of yourself,” Celia pressed. “Why don’t you stay at our house tonight? Get a good night’s sleep.”

“No, I think I’ll stay here tonight,” Amy replied, hitching her thumb toward the hospital room. “I’m going to check on Julia.” She hugged Jack again. “You don’t know how glad I am that you’re here.” She wrapped her arms around her midsection as if warding off the cold and moved past them down the hallway toward Julia’s room.

“She’s taking this really hard,” Hal said, looking fondly after his niece. “But she’s been great. She’s been glued to Julia’s side almost the entire time.”

“Amy loves Julia more than anyone else in the world,” Jack said.

“Is she the one who decorated Julia’s room with all the photos and things from home?” Sarah asked.

“No, Celia did that,” Hal responded, rubbing his hand absentmindedly across his head.

“That’s really nice,” Sarah said. “When Julia wakes up she’ll have some comforts of home nearby.” She was not only beautiful, Sarah observed, but Celia was thoughtful, too. It was obvious she made it a priority to take care of everyone in the Quinlan family.

To confirm Sarah’s observation, Celia started gathering up empty coffee cups and stray napkins. “Hal,” she said, “didn’t you have your hat earlier?”

Hal’s hands went to his bare head. “I think I left it down in the cafeteria.”

“I’ll go get it,” Jack offered. “I could use a cup of coffee, anyway.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sarah said, not wanting to be left alone. Jack’s family was nice enough, but she hardly knew them, and she was eager to avoid the grim scene inside the dark hospital room. The drawn shades, the stuffy air, the pneumatic hum of the oxygen machine. It was practically suffocating.

Sarah and Jack made their way to the elevators. “Amy doesn’t look good,” Jack commented. “I’m worried about her.”

“She’s the one who found Julia after she fell, right? That must have been very traumatic.”

“Yeah, but there’s something else.” Jack pressed the elevator’s down button, and then again and again, as if the elevator couldn’t come quickly enough. He searched for the right words. “Something in her eyes,” he added.

“You should talk to her,” Sarah said. She caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of her eye. A doctor was hurrying down the corridor, her long white coat flowing behind her. Sarah’s first thought was Julia had taken a turn for the worse and held her breath until the doctor turned in the opposite direction of Julia’s room.

The elevator door finally opened and they stepped inside. The doors closed and Sarah leaned against Jack.

“I don’t know. I probably should, but I’m sure it won’t make a difference.”

The old elevator creaked and groaned and was excruciatingly slow in its descent, stopping at each floor, though no one was there to get in. Sarah figured whoever was waiting gave up and used the stairs instead.

“I think she’d listen to you, Jack. She seemed so glad to see you.”

Sarah’s thoughts suddenly went back to their earlier conversation about Amy. She recalled how Jack had become distracted by something he had seen down the hallway.

“What did you see earlier?” Sarah asked. “When we were in the hallway talking to Dean and Celia?”

Jack pushed the first-floor button again as if it could speed up their descent. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, Jack, tell me,” Sarah pressed.

“It was nothing,” Jack insisted. The elevator finally arrived at their floor and the doors opened to an empty, quiet hallway. It was cold and eerie, and Sarah couldn’t help but wonder if they kept the morgue down here, as well. Jack turned right, following the sign directing them to the cafeteria, and Sarah quickened her pace to keep up with him.

“Jack, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Jack stopped abruptly. “Cut it out, Sarah. I didn’t see anything,” he said, but Sarah looked at him expectantly. “Okay. Fine. For a second I thought I saw my dad.”

“Your dad?” she questioned in confusion. He was the last person she expected Jack to mention. “That’s impossible.”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I got a clear look at whoever it was.”

“I know it’s not easy being back here. I’m sure it’s bringing up a lot of old memories.”

They entered the cafeteria, where the dim recessed lighting and a low ceiling made the room feel downright dismal. The smell of overboiled broccoli and strongly brewed coffee filled Sarah’s nose. The room was empty except for a woman in a white apron and a hairnet perched behind a cash register, flicking through a magazine, and a man sitting alone at a table, staring out a rain-spattered window into the black night, his food untouched in front of him.

Sarah’s eyes searched the room and landed on a table in the far corner. “There,” she said, pointing. They walked past the cashier, who didn’t look up from her magazine, and made their way toward the back of the cafeteria.

“God, he still wears this old thing.” Jack smiled as he bent over and picked up the hat from the worn green linoleum. “I think Amy got this for Hal for Christmas, like, twenty-five years ago.”

“It must mean a lot to him,” Sarah said.

Jack grew quiet.

“Hey.” Sarah nudged him gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I just can’t shake the feeling that I saw my dad,” Jack said. “You must think I’m nuts.”

“Of course not,” Sarah replied, trying to comfort him, though she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. “Last month I thought I saw my grandpa at the grocery store and he died when I was seven.”

“Yeah, but I bet you’d be happy to get the chance to see your grandpa again. I can’t say I feel the same way about my dad. I won’t ever be able to forgive him.”

“Never?” Sarah asked. “You’ll never be able to forgive him?”

“Would you be able to forgive your dad if he killed your mother?” Jack asked pointedly as he motioned to leave the cafeteria. Sarah followed as Jack bypassed the elevator and pushed open a heavy metal door that led to the stairs. The stairwell was windowless and weakly lit by dusty fluorescent bulbs. Cobwebs swung precariously in the corners where drab cement block walls met the ceiling and Sarah quickened her pace.

“I don’t know,” Sarah answered honestly. “I’d like to think I’d be forgiving, especially if it was an accident.”

Their footsteps reverberated on the metal stairs as they wound their way upward. Sarah almost preferred the rickety old elevator to the confines of this dingy, damp stairwell. She felt relief when Jack pushed open the door to the fifth floor. They were both slightly winded from the climb.

“You must be a better person than I am,” Jack said somewhat breathlessly, and Sarah decided it was best to end the conversation there.

When they returned to the waiting area, Hal was sitting by himself, staring up blankly at a television set affixed to the wall.

“Found your hat,” Jack said, handing it to his uncle. Hal set it on his bald head and adjusted it into place.

“No coffee?” Hal asked, noting their empty hands, and Sarah realized they were so distracted they had completely forgotten to get the coffee. She instantly longed for the rush of caffeine.

“Coffee looked like sludge,” Jack replied, and Sarah wondered why he didn’t just tell Hal the truth. “Where is everyone?”

“Amy’s still with Julia, and Dean and Celia went to see if they could find out what time the doctor is doing rounds tomorrow.”

“I’ll go see if Amy needs a break,” Jack said. He gave Sarah a peck on the cheek and she smiled warmly as he turned and exited the waiting area, leaving her alone with Hal.

Sarah sat down in one of the stiff-backed chairs next to Hal. Purple rings of exhaustion circled Hal’s eyes and were magnified by the thick lenses of his glasses.

“I shouldn’t have left her home alone,” he said, sliding his thumb and forefinger beneath his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Her balance hasn’t been very good lately. She’s been stumbling a lot.”

Sarah thought again about the phone message that Julia had left on their machine and the tremble in her voice.

From across the corridor Sarah watched as Jack entered Julia’s room. Moments later, Amy emerged handling a pack of cigarettes as she moved toward the elevator.

“I wish she’d give those things up,” Hal said.

“It must have been terrible for Amy to find Julia after her fall.”

“She found Julia at the bottom of the steps and called an ambulance right away. Then called me.”

“That probably saved her life.”

“I think so, but a social worker came to talk to me this afternoon. Have you ever heard of that? I mean, after an accident?”

“A social worker?” Sarah repeated. “Why?”

“She was asking all these questions about Julia’s accident. I wasn’t even at the house when she fell. I was in town. She asked if there were any problems in the family, any reason Julia wouldn’t feel safe.”

“They probably have to ask those kinds of questions when there’s an accident in the home,” Sarah said, though she wasn’t quite so sure and didn’t want to let on to Hal that it worried her. “What did you say?”

“I told her what I just told you. That she’s been stumbling a lot lately. I mean, hell, so have I. We’re getting older.

“The social worker said someone reported that the fall might not have been an accident, after all. Why would someone say such an awful thing?” he asked incredulously, rubbing the sharp gray stubble on his chin, his blue eyes clouded with worry.

“What did Dean and Amy say? Did the social worker talk to them, too?”

“Just to me, I think. I haven’t told anyone. I didn’t want to bother them with it.” He shifted in his seat, pulled out a white, linen handkerchief from his pocket and smoothed it with his blunt fingers. “Do you think we should be concerned?”

“I think you should tell them. Tell Jack. They can help you talk to the social worker,” Sarah advised, and Hal said that he would.

“It really helps having family here,” he said, and crossed one leg over his knee, his heavy brown work boot weathered with age and toil. “I know Jack doesn’t like coming back here.”

“He wanted to come. We wanted to be here for you and Julia.” Sarah reached out and patted Hal’s knee and he covered Sarah’s hand with his own.

“Well, I can’t tell you how much it helps,” he said, and cleared his throat. For a moment Sarah wondered if she should seize the opportunity to ask Hal about Jack, about the ghost of his father he thought he saw earlier. But instead she allowed silence to fall between them.

* * *

For the next hour Sarah sat in the waiting room while Jack’s family took turns sitting with Julia. Hal was the last and after what felt like aeons he finally emerged from the room, haggard and weary.

“I think we’re all tired,” Dean said, pushing himself up from his seat with difficulty. “Maybe we should all go home and get some rest. The nurses will call if there’s any change.”

“What if she wakes up?” Hal asked, twisting his hat in his hands. “She’ll be scared if she wakes up and no one is here.”

“Everyone can stay at our house,” Dean said. “We’re close enough to the hospital that we can get here quickly if she wakes up. Jack, you and Sarah are welcome to stay with us. We’ve got the room.”

Jack rubbed the shadow of bristle that had grown on his chin. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Dean.”

“No shit,” Amy muttered from her seat.

“Be quiet, Amy,” Dean said, tossing a magazine onto the coffee table. It slid across the surface and fluttered to the floor.

“Fuck you, Dean,” Amy snapped.

“Whoa, settle down,” Celia interjected.

“Amy,” Jack pleaded. “Please don’t.”

“Really, Jack?” Amy’s tone softened, the anger replaced with hurt. “You think that coming back here after twenty years is going to make everything okay?”

“None of this is good for Julia and that’s who we need to be worrying about,” Jack said. “Hal, why don’t you stay at Dean and Celia’s tonight? Sarah and I will get a hotel room.”

“What’s the matter, Jack?” Amy asked archly. “You don’t want to spend a night in the house of horrors?”

“Amy, just shut the hell up.” Dean’s face flushed with anger.

“What do you mean, house of horrors?” Sarah asked before she could stop herself. Up until then she had uncomfortably watched the tense exchange in silence. She didn’t really know Jack’s family, didn’t understand their dynamics, and it was clear that it was better for her to stay out of it.

“Never mind,” Jack said sharply, and Hal lowered his face into his hands.

“Please don’t fight. Not here.”

“You’re right,” Jack said. “You should get some sleep. We can take you back to your house.”

“Stay with me,” Hal insisted. “It’s silly for you to stay in a hotel. I want to sleep in my own bed, but I can’t stand the thought of going home to an empty house. Please stay.”

“Sure, Hal,” Jack said soothingly. “We’ll stay at your house.” To Dean he said, “Thanks for the offer, but it would be strange staying in the old house.”

Why would it be strange? Sarah wondered. And what did Amy mean by “house of horrors”? It brought to Sarah’s mind an image of chain saws and rubber knives, a silly Halloween gag. And yet the words lingered in her thoughts. Was Amy just being dramatic, like Jack said she always was, or was there more to it than that? And why had Jack brushed her off when she asked about it?

She wanted to believe that he’d meant nothing by it, that he was merely trying to keep his family from combusting. But she had a sinking feeling that there was more to it than that. Jack was keeping something from her.