Angels in Pink: Holly's Story (Lurlene McDaniel (Mass Market)) (11 page)

twenty

“YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL.”

The expression on Chad’s face as he said the words made Holly blush. Dressed in her floorlength prom dress of midnight blue, she
felt
beautiful. She took the corsage he held out, a cluster of pale pink baby roses, and handed it to her mother so she could pin it onto the tiny strap of the dress.

“Stand here,” her father said. “Let me get another picture.”

“Daddy! We’ve already taken a ton of pictures. Carson and Kathleen are waiting.”

“One more won’t hurt.” Mike focused the lens and fired off two shots. “Be careful,” he added as Chad reached for the door. “And call us when you get to that party.”

“We will,” Holly sang over her shoulder. Once the prom was over at midnight, a “safe” party was being sponsored out at the lake house of a senior’s parents. A hot local band had been hired, and chaperones would be highly visible to make sure that no one drank anything stronger than soda. Breakfast would be served too. Plenty of kids were skipping the party, but it was the only way that Holly would be allowed to stay out all night, so she and her friends were going.

Outside, Chad took her hand. At the end of her driveway, a white limo purred, courtesy of Carson. The driver opened the door and Holly and Chad climbed inside. “Wow,” Carson said. “You look great, Holly.”

The couples were sitting across from each other on plush white leather seats in the air-conditioned car. Soft music played. Kathleen said, “Fabulous, girlfriend.”

“Right back at you,” Holly said. Kathleen was dressed in a long pale aqua satin sheath, her red hair piled atop her head and sprinkled with glitter, and she wore pearl drop earrings. She looked sleek and sophisticated.

They had bought their dresses together during a marathon day of shopping, with Holly shuttling them to small, trendy boutiques instead of the big department stores.

“Cool wheels,” Chad said.

“It’s ours until the sun rises,” Carson said. “Let’s make the most of it.” He dimmed the interior lights, opened an ice chest and extracted a bottle of sparkling cider. “I would have brought the real bubbly, but Dad went over the car with a microscope and then threatened the driver with a lawsuit if any booze appeared.”

Kathleen patted his leg. “We’ll survive, party boy.”

He found glasses in a console and poured them each some of the sweet carbonated drink. They raised their glasses in a toast. “Here’s to the most famous night of senior passage—the prom.”

Holly locked gazes with Kathleen, and each knew what the other was thinking—if only Raina and Hunter were with them, the evening would be absolutely perfect. Hunter should have been there.
If only . . .

Raina had signed on for an all-nighter at the hospital, going in at seven with the graveyard shift. A macabre way to spend prom night, she thought, but it was the way she’d wanted to spend it. The hospital was like a different place at night, amazingly busy, with staffers getting patients medicated and settled and making sure that all nonessential visitors were gone. By ten o’clock, the rooms were dark, hall lights had been dimmed, and nurses’ stations glowed like small islands in a sea of semi-darkness. Vicki had told Raina that if she got sleepy, she should go to her office and nap on the sofa. She’d left a soft throw and a pillow, but Raina knew she wouldn’t be using them.

She thought about Kathleen and Holly, pictured them having fun, and was glad for them. Two different boys had asked her, but she’d simply shaken her head. She’d not gone to Hunter’s prom either because he’d taken early admission and had been away at college when his prom night rolled around. “We’ll go to yours next year,” he’d promised. Except, of course, they couldn’t. No matter. She thought the event highly overrated anyway. And without Hunter— well, it mattered even less to her.

The prom was being held at the Don CeSar, one of St. Petersburg’s oldest and most prestigious hotels, overlooking the bay. The main ballroom had been transformed into an undersea fantasy world with giant clamshells that opened and blew streams of bubbles high into the air. Tables draped in blue linen and lit with votives lined the room and clustered in a circular arrangement at one end. A dance floor filled the other end. A live band and DJ worked in the stage area. “Who picked these guys?” Carson asked, frowning.

“The prom committee, but they were closely supervised, and anybody with a nose ring was automatically disqualified,” Kathleen said with a shrug.

Carson looked disgusted. “They’re not very good.”

“Ambiance,” Kathleen joked, kissing his cheek.

A giant movie-style screen provided a backdrop on one wall. Underwater scenes floated past, showing bright schools of fish and forests of coral. “So when does Nemo arrive?” Holly asked.

“Good one,” Carson said, giving her a high five.

“Will you two make an attitude adjustment?” Kathleen said.

Chad hooked his arm around Holly’s waist. “Let’s dance.”

She was nervous about dancing with him, but they went onto the floor and he took her in his arms because the band was playing a slow song. He nuzzled her ear, sending shivers up her back. “I think everything looks cool.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“Nothing could bother me tonight. We’re together.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she skirted the topic. “How’s your sailboat?”

“In dry dock for a coat of paint. Me and my dad are doing it because she’s small and we can work on her together.” He pulled back. “Would you like to sail with me again when she’s back in the water? You’re good at the tiller.”

“We’ll see. Maybe,” she added when he looked disappointed.

“What about next year? Will you stay in Florida?” He sounded hopeful.

“I’m not sure yet. Acceptance letters are arriving, but I haven’t decided where I want to go to college. How about you? You going to college?”

“Probably USF, St. Pete campus. I might get an apartment because the commute’s too far for everyday driving. I can manage my CF without my mommy, you know.”

She felt her cheeks redden. He wasn’t an invalid, and she might have given him the impression that she thought so.

“If we both stay in state come this fall, maybe we can see each other. On occasion,” he added quickly. “I know you don’t want to be tied down.”

“I don’t know what I want,” she said truthfully as the song ended. “I’m still looking for what it is. When I find out, I’ll let you know.”

By midnight, the hospital was very quiet for the most part, and Raina was drifting from floor to floor trying to figure out where to spend the rest of the night. The emergency room was full, but she didn’t like hanging there. Nor did she like the ICU floors. Too much life and death going on. She ended up on the floor with the labor rooms and was walking the hall toward the newborns’ nursery when a woman called to her from a doorway. “Hey, you, Pink Angel.”

Raina turned and saw a woman wearing scrubs. “Yes?”

“Raina?” The woman didn’t wait for confirmation. “I remember you from when you helped in the nursery. I’m Cathy, a midwife. Listen, this place is hopping tonight and we’re short-staffed. Must be a full moon. Every room is full, and this gal is about to deliver. Can you help?”

Raina entered the labor room, where a young woman was experiencing advanced labor. Usually, a husband or boyfriend was with the mother-to-be, but this woman had only the midwife.

Cathy said, “She’s had an epidural. The baby’s coming fast and we won’t make it to the delivery room.”

An epidural meant that the lower half of the patient’s body had been anesthetized. “What can I do?” Raina asked.

“Glove up. As soon as this little guy’s born, I’ll hand him off to you. Take him over to that isolette”—she pointed to a clear plastic bassinet on the other side of the room—“and make sure he stays warm. As soon as I take care of the mother, I’ll come clean him up.”

Raina had never seen a baby being born, and couldn’t see much now because the midwife told her to stand behind her, but she heard the young mother moaning and heard Cathy say, “I see his head! Push, Sandra. Push hard.”

Seconds later, Raina heard a baby’s wail.

“A beautiful boy,” Cathy said. She clamped off the umbilical cord, turned and handed the squalling, bloodied baby to Raina.

Raina rushed the infant to the isolette, placed him gently on the pile of clean cloth and turned on the warming light attached to the side. He kept crying and kicking, as if angry about being ejected from his cocoon of dark warmth into the cold, too-bright world. She wrapped him in a blanket, as she’d been taught, and he quieted. His wide-open eyes were the familiar slate gray of all newborns’ eyes, and as he stared up at her, she thought of the infant who had died in her arms. Unlike that baby, this little guy looked whole and perfect. “Welcome to life,” she whispered, feeling an elation she had not experienced for a long, long time.

Holly and Chad walked barefoot and hand in hand along the beach behind the hotel. Light spilled from the windows and music floated from the sprawling tiled patio where couples danced and lounged. A full moon left a path of light on the calm water and small waves flowed in, tugged at the sand, flowed back. “I always plan to live near the ocean,” Chad said. “How about you?”

“I’ve never lived anyplace except Tampa, but I’m pretty sure I won’t be anyplace where it snows.”

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not especially. Give me the beach anytime.”

“When I die, I want to be buried at sea,” he said absently.

She had no response, realizing that he’d given the idea some thought. How many kids their age had? She faced the salt water, studied the wide, brilliant path of light the moonlight made. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could walk on that strip of water and right up onto the moon?”

“Yes,” Chad said. “It would be wonderful. If I could walk there with you.”

She looked up at him, at the planes of his face swathed in the light. His eyes were dark pools. Curls of his black hair spilled onto his forehead. Her heartbeat quickened. “It’s a long walk to the moon,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Not nearly long enough, if we’re going there together.”

He cupped her face between the palms of his hands. His skin felt warm and made her cheeks hot. He bent down, and hesitated for only a moment. Her heart had gone crazy, pounding so loudly in her ears that it drowned out the sound of the sea. She rose on bare tiptoes, closed her eyes and received his mouth as it closed softly over hers. The taste of him was sweet and filled her senses like the heady scent of the roses pinned to her dress. His lips lingered and she raised her arms, wrapped them around his neck, pressed him closer. Her last coherent thought was that Kathleen had been wrong—the first kiss wasn’t the hardest. It was the most wonderful.

The long white limo drove Holly and her friends home after breakfast at the lake house. Holly didn’t remember the ride; she was asleep, curled up on the seat in Chad’s arms. She only remembered being gently shaken awake. “You’re home,” Chad whispered in her ear.

“Already?” She stretched lazily.

The driver opened the door, and Holly poked Kathleen and Carson, wound around each other like sleeping puppies on the other seat, and said goodbye. Outside, the air was humid and her eyes had to adjust to the sunny morning light. A car she didn’t recognize was in her driveway. Chad walked her to the door, kissed her lightly and said, “I’ll call later today.” She went inside, still dreamy, half-asleep. In the foyer, she saw her parents, and with them, a man. He looked familiar, but why?

Her father said, “Holly, you remember Detective Gosso?”

Holly’s mind snapped awake and she was fully alert. “I remember.”

The detective looked somber but also satisfied. He said, “I came to tell your family that we’ve caught the man who killed your brother.”

twenty-one

THE MAN’S NAME was Jerry Collins. He was twenty-two and had spent most of his life in and out of trouble with the law. His juvenile rap sheet was “as long as your arm,” according to Gosso, but the law had never been able to keep him under lock and key—until now. According to the detective, Collins had fled the area after the killing and had only recently returned. He’d been arrested during a burglary, and a routine check of his prints revealed his record and also his presence at the restaurant.

“Our team has spent many hours putting together a case against this perp concerning your brother’s killing. When I started laying it out for him, he confessed,” Gosso told Holly’s family. “Said he was coming off a high and looking for money for another fix. He never showed an ounce of remorse.”

“What happens now?” Mike asked.

“He’ll be arraigned. The DA’s charging him with murder—a capital offense.”

Evelyn glanced at Mike. “The death penalty?”

“It’s on the table, but it will be up to a jury. He’ll have a court-appointed attorney. Don’t expect his trial to happen quickly,” he added.

“Do you know when he’ll be arraigned?”

“I’ll call you as soon as I know.”

Evelyn squared her jaw. “We’ll go to the arraignment. I want to see this animal who murdered our son.”

Holly looked at her mother’s face, saw determination there, saw her father put his arm around her shoulders.

“Just let us know when,” he said.

Gosso nodded. “I will.”

Collins was arraigned on the first Wednesday in May, when Holly had less than two weeks of school remaining. She’d announced that she wanted to go to the courthouse also, even though it meant missing Senior Fun Day. Raina and Kathleen came too. “For moral support,” Kathleen said.

“For justice,” Raina said, her eyes full of hurt.

The government building was awash with people, all there on some kind of business or other. The courtroom, one of five, was crowded with spectators who changed continuously as their relatives’ or friends’ cases were called before the judge sitting high up at a dark wooden desk. Behind him on the wall was the seal of the State of Florida; on either side were flags of the United States and Florida.

Detective Gosso showed up and sat with Holly and her family and friends on the spectators’ benches near the front of the courtroom. “This may take a while,” he explained. “The judge has a full docket.”

“We’ll wait,” Evelyn said, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Raina looked pale; Kathleen, subdued. Holly sat shoulder to shoulder with her parents, feeling as if they were a solid wall, braced for the ordeal ahead.

People charged with crimes passed before the judge in a monotonous stream, all with attorneys to speak for them. Holly thought the judge looked bored. And then the clerk announced a number and Gosso sat up straighter. Holly’s heart heaved as a man was led into the room. Jerry Collins wore a bright orange jumpsuit and manacles on his wrists and ankles. His head had been shaved and only a dark stubble remained. His attorney, a young man in a rumpled suit, stood with him. On the other side of the room stood a tall woman in a business suit. “The prosecutor,” Gosso whispered.

The clerk read the charges: burglary and murder in the second degree.

“How do you plead?” the judge asked.

“Not guilty,” Collins’s attorney said.

“Routine. Standard,” Gosso told the Harrisons when they looked at him.

The prosecutor said, “The state recommends no bail, Your Honor. Mr. Collins is a flight risk.”

“So ordered.” The judge banged his gavel. “Next case.”

Collins was led out. Holly felt cheated. She’d wanted him to beg for his life. At the door, Collins glanced out into the courtroom. Holly glared at him. He was thin, wasted-looking, but what struck her most was that his eyes looked dead. And then he was gone.

“That’s it?” Raina asked.

“For now,” Gosso said. He walked them out into the hall.

A reporter materialized, but Gosso waved her away. “Give these people some peace,” he barked. “Come back when the perp goes to trial.”

The reporter scowled, but backed away.

Mike shook the detective’s hand. “We appreciate all you’ve done. I know you didn’t have to come here today.”

“I wanted to. I’ve been a detective for twelve years and I’ve put a lot of bad guys away. But in 2001, I lost my brother, a fireman, in the World Trade Center when the second tower fell. Until then I never knew what it was like to be a victim. You feel helpless and angry. You just want to take the bad guy down, but you can’t.” Gosso’s gaze turned sorrowful. “I wanted to get this one for you. For your son.”

“Thank you,” Evelyn said.

Holly watched him walk away.

She blinked in the harsh light of the afternoon sun when they came out of the building. The whole arraignment seemed anticlimactic. Holly felt adrift, aimless. “Now what?” she asked.

“Let’s go have pizza,” Mike said.

“I don’t—” Evelyn started.

“We all need to eat.” He ushered the whole group to his SUV and drove to a pizza parlor, once a favorite haunt of Hunter’s, in their part of town. The wonderful smells made Holly realize that she was hungry, and once they had settled in a booth and ordered, she began to feel less numb. Raina began to look more relaxed, as did Holly’s parents, and Kathleen less scared.

When the pizzas came, they ate and talked, sharing stories about Hunter, memories of him as a child, a boyfriend, a brother, a friend. They laughed, they cried. And magically, the strain of the day lifted. The image of the courtroom, and of the villain who had changed their lives, began to fade. In its place were the warm, sweet memories of the boy they had all loved. And so tragically lost.

On Saturday, Kathleen was at work in the gift shop with Bree, setting out floral arrangements for delivery, when Carson hurried in looking for her. Kathleen beamed at him, but his face was serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Um—we need to talk.”

“Can it wait until I get off?”

“I’d rather talk right now.” He glanced at Bree. “In private.”

Bree shrugged, gave an affirming smile. “Go on. I can handle things here.”

Kathleen felt growing concern as she walked with Carson into the hospital’s huge atrium. He wouldn’t have insisted unless something important was going on. He found a small table in the coffee bar and sat her down. He licked his lips. “I’ve just come up from the ER.”

Her heart thudded with dread. “Go on.”

“Steffie was in a car wreck. She hit a tree and went through the windshield.”

“Oh no! How is she?”

“Alive, but cut up pretty badly.”

Kathleen saw the concern in Carson’s eyes. She wouldn’t have wished a car wreck on anyone, not even Stephanie Marlow. “Did the ER call you?”

“Steffie asked them to call my mother, and Mom called me. Her parents aren’t around. I guess there wasn’t anyone else to call.”

“That’s so sad.”

Carson shook his head in disgust. “She was almost hysterical. I calmed her down as best I could, but she’s still pretty scared. She could have called her agent, but she doesn’t want her to know about the accident yet. Not until the plastic surgeon stitches her up.”

Kathleen realized how serious the accident was for the girl. Her face was her fortune. “How bad is it?”

“Her nose is broken and there are lots of cuts on her face, some pretty deep. Mom called one of her doctor friends—she says he’s the best. I left when he came in.” Carson brooded. “It was a stupid accident.”

“Do you know how it happened?”

“The police said she was alone, coming home from an all-night party. She’d been drinking, took a corner too fast, skidded, hit a tree. Really stupid of her. To drink and drive,” he said. “The cops are going to charge her.”

Kathleen wondered if he had taken the leap to understanding that he had often done the same thing and that this might have happened to him too. “Was she wearing a seat belt?”

He shook his head. “Another dumb call.”

“I hope she’ll be all right.”

Carson searched her face. “So you’re not mad at me for going to see her?”

“No way. Why would you ask such a thing?”

He looked relieved, and she realized how troubled he was about coming to tell her. “I— um—just didn’t want you to be upset.”

She reached across the table, grabbed his hand. “You did the right thing. It’s okay. She needs a friend.” And as she said the words, she knew it was true. She wasn’t jealous of Stephanie anymore. Whatever had happened between the girl and Carson was long gone and in the past.

He relaxed and flashed one of his sexy smiles. “I know girls who would have gloated.”

“Pathetic.”

They sat silently with the sounds of the hospital all around them. She thought about how much she liked him, and what a difference he’d made in her life.

He finally asked, “So, are you busy tonight?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

He traced a line down the length of her arm with a finger, raising goose bumps on her skin. “Just me is asking.”

“I’m yours,” she said lightly, loading the words with a double meaning.

He winked. “I was the one who figured that out first, you know.”

“
You
say,” she answered coyly, without even a hint of self-consciousness.

With only days to go before the end of the school year and graduation, seniors didn’t bother to attend classes past noon. Holly went to the hospital, not because she had to go for credit—she’d already earned that—but because she’d learned that Ben’s treatment program had failed and that he’d been removed from all treatment except pain management. Medical science had failed, and Ben Keller, age eight, was dying.