Читать книгу A Place Called Paradise - Honey Perkel - Страница 6

In cottage number one, Iva Bacon pulled the yellow comforter down to the end of the double bed and plumped up the pillows at the head. Then she began to smooth on her face cream. She hadn’t been able to sleep the previous two nights and hoped tonight would be different. Perhaps she’d try to read. Maybe that would put her to sleep.

Picking up her hairbrush from the old painted dresser, Iva undid her bun at the nape of her neck and began to brush her hair. She’d done this every night since she was a young girl — after she and George were first married, after her daughters, Jill and Joanne, were born, and now after Jill died. Blown up on a sailboat with her husband. On their honeymoon. Gone.

Iva’s friends had told her that she was lucky. Lucky! She still had another daughter, they said. As though losing one shouldn’t matter. She and George weren’t supposed to have just one daughter. They were supposed to have two. Jill and Joanne. Twins.

Iva studied her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was white. Her face was wrinkled. Losing a child certainly had a way of aging a person. It bothered her that she’d lost her youthful appearance and health. She had once turned the heads of men and women. She had been the darling at every party, always reaping compliments. George had always been eager to take her ballroom dancing. They’d been quite a pair. He, in his fitted tuxedo, and she, in a beautiful silk gown. All eyes had been on them. Their choreographed steps perfectly in sync as they waltzed and fox-trotted across the floor.

Iva remembered how the girls used to sit on the edge of her bed, watching as she put on her makeup, jewelry, and did up her hair. They were excited to see Mommy looking so pretty, going out dancing with their daddy. They had been darling girls. Both of them.

She felt so old these days, and her arthritis seemed especially bad tonight. Iva had resorted to using her cane more and more, feeling every bit her seventy-five years.

Iva gazed through the hall and into the next room where George sat. His shoulders were rounded, his head bent over the book he was reading. Iva had noticed a change in him as well. He’d grown frail. His hair had whitened and his skin had loosened; his aging body no longer a friend. And his heart ... she constantly worried about him.

Now at the age of eighty-two, George was old and ill, the years suddenly having caught up with him. It was true what people said: that a heart could actually break after a great loss. That was what had happened when Jill died. The shock was killing them both.

Iva was always taken aback to see how calm George seemed at tense times like these. That hadn’t changed from his younger days. Not even now at the brink of the greatest challenge of their lives. But Iva knew him well enough to know he felt things as deeply as she. He’d loved his daughter and felt as committed as Iva to find justice for Jill and her husband. That was why they were here, wasn’t it?

She and George were familiar with Bernard and his reputation around the world — avenger of evil. Human, or not. They’d had a chance to see him in action while they vacationed in Sri Lanka in ’05. After the town was devastated by the tsunami, Bernard had pulled survivors from the waters, lifted boats and houses, done the unbelievable to further the rescue. Bernard, sent by the heavens, the locals had believed. Bernard, worker of miracles.

Iva thought about how it might be to work alongside him in this latest operation. She was getting restless, tired of waiting. Why had he called them to come? She hoped it had something to do with avenging Jill’s murder.

“Perhaps, we should leave this place,” she called out to her husband.

George instantly looked up from the book he’d been reading. He was surprised by her comment.

“We can’t leave! Do you want to go home to Mercer Island?”

“No, no, no,” Iva said quickly, trying to calm him down. “You misunderstood. I don’t want to return home. I was thinking maybe we should go look for Bernard.”

“Bernard knows where to find us. He told us to check in here and wait until he contacts us.”

“I know, but I’m getting antsy. All I do is bake tea breads, or walk the floors. We’ve been here for three days.”

George laid his book down and slowly got up from his chair. He came to Iva’s side and put his arms around her.

“You bake wonderful tea breads, Iva.” He gave her a soft kiss.

Iva smiled, her eyes filling with tears.

“Jill used to like them, too. Apricot Walnut Spice was her favorite.”

“I remember.” George wiped her eyes dry. The two were silent for several moments. “Why don’t we go to dinner tomorrow night? You like Annie Rose’s.”

“Oh, George,” Iva exclaimed. “I’d love that.”

He squeezed her hand lovingly. “And just you wait, my darling. Bernard will contact us as soon as he sees fit.”

At that moment a strong gust of wind pushed against the cottage. The motel shook. A downpour of rain followed.