“He just turned two.” Levon grinned. “He’s pretty great. This second baby’s going to be a boy, too. That’s what Katrina says, and she’s always right.”
“A great talent to have,” I said, steering the conversation away from the stormy issues. “If people believed Katrina, they could save money on ultrasounds.”
Just as Levon reached the door—just when I believed this interview was over—he turned to ask us some more questions. “I forgot to ask you if Virginia ever talked to you about her personal life?”
Robin and I looked at each other and we shook our heads.
“Roe, you haven’t remembered anything new about Virginia’s first time here?”
“I was a brand-new mom with a brand-new baby. A big adjustment physically and mentally. I can’t remember us ever chatting.”
“If you remember who told your mother about Virginia, let us know.”
Robin said, “Levon, I hope you won’t question Aida about this now. John’s had another heart attack and he’s in the hospital. It’s a very bad time.”
Levon looked uncomfortable. “I understand that. But I need to get any information as soon as I can.”
I nodded. “I’ll let Mother know.” When I’m good and ready. When Mother can think about something else besides her husband.
Finally, finally, Levon left, after making sure we did not have any other scrap of information. We breathed simultaneous sighs of relief when the door closed behind him.
“Virginia’s such a mystery. I didn’t know anyone was, these days.” I didn’t even bother to sit down with a book, or start something in the kitchen, because Little Miss’s unexpected nap was over. I sighed. “Back to being Elsie the cow,” I said.
“I’m going to Google Virginia.” Robin went back to his office. He called, “Roe! Did you put my sweater in the wash?”
“No,” I called back. “I’m going to feed Sophie and fold some laundry. I’ll check to see if Virginia threw it in the wash, though I don’t know why she’d go in your office.”
In seconds we had scattered, relieved to do something that felt normal.
I happily entered my “mom cocoon” with my daughter. We shared the better part of an hour, between feeding and playing. I took her into the bedroom with me while I folded laundry (no sweater), settling her in the middle of our bed and putting firm pillows on each side of her in case she suddenly decided to learn how to roll over. I sang to her while I worked, and I talked to her, and I thought about how very lucky I was.
Except for Tracy being murdered in my backyard.
And my babysitter going missing.
And my stepfather having a heart attack.
Chapter Thirteen
I called my mother the first thing Tuesday morning. John’s condition was stable, and that was good. That day I took two more turns sitting with Mother at his bedside, one in late afternoon and one at ten at night. Mother was silent and stoic, but there were constant tears in her eyes. For the first time she looked old, though she was not yet sixty.
Melinda, Avery’s wife, came into the ICU as I was leaving. She’d been pulling babysitting duty, so she hadn’t gotten to the hospital often. “I got both my own kids down,” she said. “John David came by to pick up Chase. Avery fell into bed. I figured I’d come be with your mom.”
I hugged her. “Mother just won’t talk,” I said. “She just sits and waits.”
“John’s a great father-in-law and a wonderful grandfather,” Melinda said sadly. “I don’t want to lose him. I want the kids to know him. And he’s been so happy with your mother. They haven’t had long enough together.”
“That’s all true, and more. We just have to wait and see. I hate waiting and seeing.”
Melinda managed a smile. “Me, too. Too much of life is spent doing that. How’s Sophie?”
“Well and happy and enjoying being the center of the universe,” I said. “And Marcy and Charles?”
“Marcy said a new word the other day. Unfortunately, it was a bad one. Now we have to figure out where she learned it. Charles is walking. He wanted to go with Marcy when she left the room. He just stood up and started across the floor.”
“Your kids are so cute,” I said, because it was true and because mothers have to support each other.
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you I’m sorry for all your trouble.” Melinda had suddenly recalled that my family had other problems in addition to John’s bad health. “Is it true Robin had met the dead woman?”
“So had I. She was Robin’s stalker. You remember, the woman who attacked me in my first house? Tracy Beal? She was supposed to be in a psychiatric hospital, but she escaped.” I felt as though I’d told this story many times.
“Oh my God! You’re lucky she was killed, instead of her killing you!”
Hearing this out loud made me feel weak in the knees. I patted Melinda on the shoulder and made myself march out the front door. The circular drive was choked with cars, some dropping off visitors, some picking up patients. I stood in the center for a moment, watching the water splash in the fountain. I hoped the sound would bring me peace. But it didn’t.
I glanced behind me at all the blank windows, all three floors, and knew that behind them lay suffering and grief and pain. I had to remind myself that there was healing, too.
When I reached my car, I was grateful to collapse inside. I was a mess. I had to stiffen my backbone. I could not heal John, I could not resurrect Tracy, I could not find Virginia. All I could do was soldier on. I had to drive home, and I had to … all I could think of was going to bed. It had been a long and exhausting day. I still wasn’t up to my previous energy level.
I fell asleep maybe a second before my head hit the pillow. I know Sophie woke up twice in the night, and I know I fed her, but I was on mom autopilot. When my eyes opened the next morning, I smelled something divine … coffee and pastry. My heart lifted. Robin had gotten up early to go to Peerless Doughnuts in downtown Lawrenceton.
My appetite came to life with a roar.
I staggered to the kitchen in my robe to find Robin at the counter, a box of assorted goodness in front of him. “Phillip get off to school?” I asked as I poured a cup of coffee. “I just missed him, I guess.”
“Yep,” Robin said absently. Going by the crumbs, he’d already demolished a blueberry-cake doughnut. He was hovering over the brown-and-white-striped box, taking his time with his next choice.
I ate a bear claw. And then a chocolate croissant. Though I’d regret it later (just a little bit), the sugar and fat put me in the happiest place I’d been in a week.
Robin looked content, too. We’d been reading the newspaper as we ate, and I’d swapped sections with him silently.
“When all else fails, eat something bad for you,” he said, when he judged I’d had enough coffee to be ready to talk.
“Thanks for thinking of Peerless. You are truly a great husband.”