Bloodchild (20 page)

"It's more often than not that we can't control events that affect our lives, Mr. Hamilton. Our only recourse is to move in rhythm. If you resist, bend a branch too far, you break it," she said, her voice dropping into a most seductive and sensual tone. He felt a warmth climb up the inside of his thighs, as though he had just lowered himself into a tepid bath. Rarely had a woman's voice stimulated him so.

He noticed that the top two buttons of her uniform had come undone. The rose tint in her neck spread down to the peaks of her breasts, now revealed as they ballooned out of the top of her firmly fastened bra. He tried to swallow but couldn't. It was as if he had lost control of all his bodily movements. His heart began to pound, driving the blood to the surface of his face. He felt the heat. Finally he nodded obediently. She smiled and he seemed capable of relaxation again. He took a deep breath. "I've got to get to the hospital," he said, his voice so low that it was nearly a whisper.

"It will be all right here, Mr. Hamilton," she said. "I'll watch her closely."

He nodded again.

"I hope," she added, "that everything will be right with your sister as well."

"Thank you," he said, and hurried down the stairs, anxious both to see Colleen and to flee from the intimidating nurse. Just before he backed completely out of the driveway, he looked at the house and saw that the nurse was drawing down the shades and closing the curtains in all the windows. He didn't understand how it had happened, but now, when he looked at his home, a house he had restored with color and brightness, it appeared old, haggard, dark, and deserted. It gave credence to superstition. He was willing to consider seriously the ordinarily otherwise fantastic idea that evil, or the devil, or something similar had come down this quiet residential street and pointed its finger at his home.

The shadows fell like rain and soaked the house in gloom. He feared it would take the brightness of a thousand mornings to lift the bleak curtains away and was afraid of what it would cost them all in the end.

Despite what Dana had told him, Harlan couldn't accept that Jillian would leave the house in a huff and not take her things. Even if they had had an argument, his mother-in-law would have spoken to him before leaving. He felt certain about this, as he drove away from the house toward the hospital. He couldn't question Dana further about the supposed incident, especially with that nurse hovering around. But now, away from both of them, he thought more clearly and decided that Dana's explanation of recent events was inadequate. Even so, he would call Jillian's home in Florida later, just to be sure.

By the time he reached the hospital, Colleen had come out from under sedation, although she was still somewhat dazed. He learned that so far none of the medical tests performed on her revealed anything abnormal. She had been moved to a semiprivate room. Right now there was no one in the other bed, so she had complete privacy. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and held her hand.

"What happened to me?" she asked.

"You had a bad experience, and what I guess they'll eventually call an emotional breakdown, but thank God, nothing else seems to be wrong. You need some rest, that's all. There will be a different doctor coming to see you in the morning."

"Different doctor?"

"Psychologist. Give him a chance to help," Harlan pleaded.

"Help?" she asked. She struggled to sit up. "Everybody thinks I'm crazy, is that it? Is it, Harlan?" she repeated when he didn't respond immediately.

"You've got to try to relax, Colleen. Only then will you get any better," he added, smiling. Everything was getting to be overwhelming. Why were the two most important women in his life both in the throes of hysteria? How would this end? He had to work; he had to go on with his life. How often could he cancel his classes before the department head would be on his back? Right now he couldn't imagine teaching either Shakespeare or basic composition.

"Harlan, I did see Jillian in the shed," Colleen insisted. She clenched her fists on her lap and pressed her lips together. "I'm not going crazy. I swear."

Go easy
, he thought. "I know. Now let me tell you what has happened so you can get things into perspective, okay?" he said. Colleen nodded. He thought that if he spoke to her in a calm, reasonable tone and didn't sound as though he were patronizing her, she would remain calm and listen. "I looked in the shed myself, of course, and found nothing… no one. Then I called the police and they sent a detective, a good one, and he and I searched the shed. He found a dead gopher, which explained the smell, and then he pointed out a mop and an old jacket hanging on the wall. We think you saw that and imagined something terrible."

"Mop? Jacket? There wasn't any mop and jacket."

"Of course not… to you, that is. You saw something else, Collie. It happens to people. Jeez, it's happened to me on occasion. You know, you're thinking about something so intently, and then you glance at something and your mind takes over. It's understandable—no big thing."

She shook her head.

"Now, Colleen, what's the sense of you insisting on something that isn't there? I told you, I had a police detective on the scene."

"Then where's Jillian? Did she come home? Did she call?"

"No. Dana claims that they had a fight and Jillian left the house."

"A fight? I can't believe it."

"Right now that's all we have to go by. The detective has taken a picture of her, and he's looking into it. Hopefully it will be resolved soon."

"How's Dana?"

"She's not so great. The doctor sent over a nurse to stay with us for a while. Her name is Patio, Rose Patio."

"A nurse?"

He nodded. "I suppose, under the circumstances, with Jillian gone, you here, me having to go to work… it's a good idea," he said, but not convincingly. Colleen, even in her somewhat dazed state, picked up the negative vibrations.

"You don't like her?"

"Not particularly, no. But that's not important as long as she can do her job," he said.

"Why don't you like her?"

"She strikes me as a bit too… cold," he said. "Impersonal. But," he added, "maybe that's the way people in her profession have to be… efficient, stern." He shrugged. "It's the first time I've ever had a nurse living in the house." He smiled. "It'll be all right after you come home. We'll handle her," he said, and winked. "Besides, I don't imagine her having to be there more than a few days or a week."

"Where's she sleeping? The baby's room?"

He shook his head. "The guest room," he said.

"But what about—"

The phone rang, and for a moment they both looked at it.

"Maybe some of the kids found out about me already," she said. "It doesn't take long for news to spread around here."

She lifted the receiver. "Hello? Yes, just a moment," she said, sounding disappointed. "It's for you." She handed the receiver to him.

Harlan took it slowly, afraid something else had happened at home. "Yes?… Oh, Lieutenant Reis… No, it's all right. What do you have?" Harlan asked, then listened. "I see. Yes, that is really unusual, but I was going to call you afterward and tell you something that makes more sense now. My wife just told me that she and her mother had an argument and that was why her mother left… I understand. Well, thank you. I had a feeling you'd be of great help… Yes. Thanks again," he said, and hung up the phone. Colleen, looking more alert and anxious, waited patiently. He turned to her slowly, shaking his head.

"What is it?"

"The detective knocked on some doors in the neighborhood, and then, on his own initiative, went to interview some taxi drivers, and then to the bus station. A clerk at the bus station recognized Jillian from the picture and said she had purchased a one-way ticket to New York City late last night. He's absolutely positive it was Jillian."

"I don't understand." Colleen sat back against her pillow. "What did I see this morning?"

"Huh? Oh, the mop, the jacket."

"I don't understand," she repeated, shaking her head. She turned to Harlan. "How come we didn't hear them arguing? When did this happen?"

"During the night, I guess. Shortly after you and I fell asleep, I imagine."

"And Jillian just left? I'm so surprised. Where did she go to stay?"

"I don't know. She has friends in New York. I know that. Oh, well," he said, standing. "At least one part of this mystery is solved."

"I want to go home, Harlan. Please," she pleaded.

He nodded. "You will. Soon. I promise. But don't you see, honey? Now it's more important than ever that you have a session with this doctor tomorrow."

She nodded reluctantly.

"I guess." She looked down and then looked up again quickly. "But what about the big game? And Teddy?"

He thought for a moment. "I'll be here right after the doctor sees you, and if it's all right, I'll get you out and you can make the game."

"Promise?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Harlan. I'm sorry I turned out to be so much trouble. Especially on top of everything else."

"Nonsense. That's what a teenage sister is supposed to be, trouble. You'll be all right. We'll all be all right," he said. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Besides," he added, "as I told you, I'm going to need help dealing with this nurse."

"I'll help you."

They both laughed.

"Talk to you later," he said, and started out. ,

"Okay. Tell Dana I'm sorry," she added. He shook his head. What a great kid she was. He only wished he and Dana had a daughter who would grow up to be like her.

On the way out of the hospital, he realized he could still make his late-afternoon class. He didn't want to do so, however, without checking home, so he phoned. Nurse Patio answered. At first her voice surprised him because it was weird to hear a stranger answer the phone at his house.

"How's Dana?"

"Resting comfortably. All is well," she said. "How is your sister?"

"Better."

"That's good."

"Maybe it will be all right for me to go to my late-afternoon class," he said.

"Of course it will. I'm here, and after Dana wakes up, we're going to see Dr. Claret."

"Oh." He thought for a moment. "Well, maybe I shouldn't go to my class then."

"Mr. Hamilton, the purpose in having me is to take the pressure off you and your wife. I assure you I am capable of taking her and the baby to see her doctor," she said sternly.

"I understand. All right," he said. "When Dana wakes up, tell her that her mother was seen buying a bus ticket to New York late last night. Apparently it all happened as she said it had."

"I'll tell her. Even though she and her mother did not have a pleasant parting, this news will be of some relief to her. Don't think your wife was insensitive about it all, Mr. Hamilton. Once she told me some of it, I had her put it out of her mind to protect her own well-being."

"I see," he said, but he was amazed that the nurse had such influence on Dana so quickly. Even though he thought it demonstrated how effective and professional she was, he couldn't help but feel anxious about her.

"You go and enjoy your class, Mr. Hamilton. I'll have dinner ready when you return."

"Really? Thank you," he said. "Bye."

He stood by the pay phone for a moment. She cooks too? He shook his head. He was really impressed. Maybe this nurse was a very good idea at this time, he thought. Maybe he should just try to take it easy now, he concluded, and left the hospital feeling relaxed and lighthearted for the first time all day.

Harlan's class proved to be just the relief he needed. Most of his students had done the required reading,
Macbeth
, and liked what they had read. Because they were prepared, he was at the top of his form. The discussion was stimulating. Some of his brighter students made interesting points. It wasn't until nearly the end of the period, when he had to discuss the psychological significance of Lady Macbeth's famous line—"Out, out, damn spot"—that he was reminded of his situation at home. Lady Macbeth saw spots of blood on her hands, the blood of the king she and her husband had killed, even though that blood was not really there. Of course, what she imagined was a result of her overwhelming sense of guilt.

All this led him to theorize about Colleen. Did she imagine the blood between the baby's lips and on the sheet because she resented the baby? Did she somehow see the baby as a threat to her relationship with him and Dana?

Ever since his father had died and Colleen had to come to live with him and Dana, he had concentrated on how all of it was affecting Dana. In his mind she was always the one to be protected. She was the one who had to make sacrifices. But what about Colleen? Because she was such a good student and such a reliable young lady, he never thought of her as having any mental weakness or emotional problem.

He hadn't been fair to her, he decided, but what was even more important, he hadn't been sensitive to her pain and her feelings. Now that he analyzed it the way he should have from the beginning, he realized that in her mind Colleen had substituted him and Dana for her parents. Sure, that made sense. She had lost one set of parents, and now she was on the verge of losing another, losing them to a new child, the baby, Nikos.

Sibling rivalry, he thought. Classic. Most of this was her subconscious at work. She was unaware of it herself; that's why she was so confused. This whole fantastic thing with Jillian—seeing a corpse in the shed—all of it was simply a way of gaining attention, the attention Colleen feared she was losing to the infant.

"Out, out, damn spot." Thank you, Willy Shakespeare. He slapped his hands together. Hopefully the psychologist would arrive at some of these conclusions himself tomorrow, he thought, but just in case he didn't, Harlan decided to have a short talk with him afterward and point some of it out.

He was feeling rather self-confident and cocky when he left the college and headed for home. In a few days it would all blow over. Colleen would be home tomorrow. Hopefully Jillian would call, and he or Dana would calm her down. The new doctor and this nurse would help Dana regain her strength, and they would be a family again. Once again his usually dominant optimism took control.