Cemetery Silk (17 page)

“I still say it was worth it, dear, for Cassandra's sake if for nothing else. She was able to make a real contribution. And she had such a good time.”

“For heaven's sake, Mother. We're not here to have a good time.”

“Of course we are,” she countered. “That's what life is all about.”

“Well, in the grand scheme of things, yes. But I'm talking about here and now.”

“When you get to be my age, dear, you'll realize that the here and now is all there is—in the grand scheme of things.”

She was right, of course.

I meant to go over Abigail's record more carefully when we got home. We had a small medical dictionary somewhere and I could look up “emesis.” But we were exhausted when we arrived and Aggie wanted to be fed and walked. So, I forgot.

Mabel came early the next morning and we did the picking pears, canning thing until late in the afternoon. Even when Mabel took almost a dozen jars home there were still three dozen left for our winter pantry. I felt like a pioneer. I even had an urge to get down the quilt I started ten years ago and finish it.

We were resting on the patio trying to cool off with glasses of wine and iced tea when Danny pulled up in the driveway. Cassie and Mother hurried in the house to clean up. I invited him for a drink.

“Sure, I'll have some wine, Mrs. DeLeon. I'm off duty now.”

He held his glass up in a toast. “Here's to crime.”

“You sound so cynical, Danny. What's up?”

His handsome young face drew up in a scowl.

“The bad guys seem to be coming out ahead, that's all.”

I knew then that he had come with some bad news.

“Okay, Danny, out with it before Mother comes back.”

He cleared his throat and looked me in the eye.

“Bert will be coming over tomorrow morning with a restraining order against you and Mrs. Sterling. And Cassie, too,” he added.

“Damn!”

“Precisely. Sue Dibber claims you came to her place of work to harass and embarrass her in front of the rest of the hospital staff. She tried to get you arrested for stalking, but she couldn't show probable cause.”

Pamela was going to kill me. I would not blame her for washing her hands of me completely and forever. I was a goner.

“Are you okay, Mrs. DeLeon? You look a little funny, excuse me for saying so.”

“What? Sure, I'm fine, Danny, just fine.”

“Well, I thought you ought'a know, so maybe you could be prepared.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you very much, Danny. I really appreciate your coming.”

“Tell Cassandra I'll see her later.” He smiled, “I have a date. Don't want to be late.”

“Thanks again.”

He was gone when Cassie and Mother came back out all fresh and smelling nice.

“You wasted your perfume. He left. Had a date.”

Cassie turned angrily on her heels and went back in the house.

“My, do you think she's jealous? I thought she turned him down.”

“Right on both counts,” I concurred.

“Have a glass of wine, Mother. I have something to tell you.”

She took the news very well—just as I expected. She pointed out that the restraining order really meant nothing since we would not be going back to the hospital or Lanierville. And so I told her about Pam's phone call and her directive to stay out of trouble. She did not take that so well. I expected that also.

“Why didn't you take me into your confidence, Paisley, especially about something so important?”

I sighed deeply and took another sip of wine.

“I honestly thought that whatever we did, we could do quietly.”

“Why didn't you stop Cassie from going to the hospital?”

“Mother, did you think Sue would still be there?”

She shook her head.

“Well, neither did I, so I took a chance. It was a gamble. I lost.”

“It looks bad, doesn't it, dear.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Very bad.”

It started raining heavily about eleven-thirty. Usually the sound of falling rain is a lullaby to me, but I could not get to sleep. I took another warm shower hoping it would relax me. I did the two yoga exercises I knew. Nothing worked. All I could think about was what Pamela would say when she found out about today's events.

I finally got up and went into the library and tried to find a book to read. What I did find was the little medical dictionary, so I got out Abigail's record and sat down at the desk. I looked up “emesis” and found it meant vomitus, or plain old garden variety upchuck. Abigail had thrown up about two cupfuls of thick, dark brown vomit. I wondered what in the world she could have eaten right before she died that had that color and consistency.

I could not find anything else unusual about the sad little story of her last two hours. It struck me that she had died alone without family or loved ones at her side just like William and, with that thought, I got mad. Ernest Dibber had a lot to answer for, the greedy son of a bitch. The most we can hope for at the end of our lives is the presence of someone we love. William and Abigail had both been robbed of that. Someone needed to pay and I was determined that someday, someone would. I went back to bed and cried myself to sleep.

In fact, I slept through Bert Atkins's visit and felt remarkably fit and pleasantly optimistic when I awoke. Maybe today we could come up with something that would help our cause.

My hopes were dashed when I went to the kitchen and found Mother sitting at the table ashen-faced. Cassie was sitting by her side. She was crying softly into her hands like her heart would break.

“My God, what's going on? Was it Atkins? I told you all he was coming.”

I sat down by Cassie and put my arm around her shoulders.

“You knew about the restraining order. Why are…?”

Cassie turned and buried her wet face in my neck and sobbed.

“It's Mr. Dibber, Mom. He killed himself last night.”

She clung tightly to me. “And it's all my fault!”

I was too stunned to move or think or even respond to my heartsick child.

Mother got up slowly and came around behind us. She pulled Cassie up from her chair and into her arms.

“There, there, darling. It's all right,” she crooned soothingly. “Cassandra, dear, you must listen to me.”

She smoothed the long hair out of Cassie's wet face.

“Look at me and listen carefully to what I have to say. You are in no way responsible for what Ernest Dibber did last night. None of us are. We are all masters of our own fate, and he made a choice about his. It was the wrong choice in our eyes, but he was the only one who made that decision.”

“But I…if I hadn't gone to the hospital, upset everybody.…”

“Shush, we all have our battles to fight, our nightmares to face. They help build our character and make us strong. The weak ones stop fighting and give in to fear. They take the easy way out, like Dibber. You did not hold the gun to his head and pull the trigger. He did.”

Cassie dried her eyes and seemed to take some solace from her grandmother's words. But I had some soul searching to do myself: Had the thinly veiled accusations in my book played some role in Dibber's sad and final decision?

Chapter Sixteen

None of us wanted to be alone, so we formed a solemn little procession, dog included, to the library. Cassie curled up on one sofa with her head in Mother's lap and Aggie lay down by her feet. I stretched out on the sofa across from them.

It was very still outside. The rain and wind had stopped for the moment but water dripped persistently from tree limbs and puddled ankle deep in the yard.

The only color in the grey morning was on the breasts of a few robins who hopped about gobbling up the drowning worms as they floated up from the water-soaked lawn.

Cassie fell into an uneasy sleep. Only an occasional moan interrupted her soft snoring.

“What a stinking mess.”

“Indeed,” replied Mother without even a small reprimand about my choice of words.

She shifted her weight and moved Cassie slightly to get more comfortable. Her lap was not very big.

“What are you going to say to Pam?” she asked.

“Beats the hell outt'a me.”

“Your grandfather used to say that, too.”

“I know.”

“She's bound to be very angry.”

“Mother, I'm not nearly as worried about Pam as I am about Dibber's family. Have you thought about his wife and children? What they must think of us? Even if Dibber did what we think he did, they had nothing to do with it. They're innocent victims just like William and Abigail. We…I have to make amends somehow.”

“Pam's lawyer is drafting a letter, and there's the money.…”

“That's not enough. I have to go see Sue Dibber in person. I have to tell her how very, very, sorry I am. Sorry about the book. Sorry about messing in their lives. Sorry about everything.”

“You really think that's such a good idea?”

“I can't live with myself if I don't,” I answered despondently.

“Very well. I'll go with you.”

That's what mothers are for.

We left Cassie at home. Mother called Mabel and asked her to come over and stay until we got back. Mabel brought the children. By the time we got away, Cassie was smiling and helping the youngest one to fit together the pieces of an old puzzle we found in the attic.

“I think she'll be all right.”

“So do I, Mother, but I don't think any of us will ever be the same.”

The rain continued to fall in sheets and I had to concentrate to keep on the road. We arrived at the small, upscale lakeside community just as a bigger storm system did. The skies were black—bolts of lightening flashed repeatedly from low-lying clouds, and the thunder was deafening. I pulled over to the side of the road to get my bearings. I could hardly see.

I had not really decided exactly what I was going to say to Sue except “I'm sorry.” There was the restraining order, but it had been written about Sue's place of employment. If she were home, I reasoned, and not at the hospital, I could see her.

I had always thought of myself as a good person. I came from a family of good people—people who helped others and did no harm. It was difficult for me to accept myself as one of the wrongdoers, one of the bad guys. I was ashamed.

“Damn. This is a hard one, Mother.”

“Yes, dear.”

She had been very non-committal about this trip, and it puzzled me.

“Read the address to me one more time, please.”

“124 Beaver Ruin Lane. The friend I called who lives near there said it was right off this main road about two miles from the highway.”

“Then the next street should be the one. Looks like they did pretty well on William's money. Damn, there I go again! I've come to the conclusion that I'm really a rotten person. I come to make amends and.…”

“It's just human nature, Paisley. You can't help it. Quit being so hard on yourself. If you felt the way I do, you'd turn around and head for home.”

“Really?”

“I'm afraid it's true. So you see, in the rotten person category, I'm one up on you.”

The house Ernest Dibber had purchased with our inheritance was lovely. It was a tad smaller than I expected, but it was charming, with sweeping lines and lots of windows. The windows were shuttered now against the storm, but on a good day, the view of the lake would be spectacular. The lot was small as were all the rest in this expensive neighborhood, but it was beautifully landscaped. Although now the yard was full of debris from the storm.

My heart was pounding as I pulled up in the drive. A large limb had fallen in front of the garage, and a boy in a bright yellow rain slicker was trying to pull it out of the way.

“You stay here,” I said to Mother. “I'm going to help the kid move the limb, then I'll see if Sue is here.”

I pulled up the hood of my parka and opened the door. The wind was whipping briskly off the lake forcing the rain to fall in heavy blowing sheets. The boy was not having much luck with what was really almost half of a young tree. I grabbed the trunk and motioned for him to pull with me. He seemed startled at first then glad for my help. We pushed and tugged and finally got it off the driveway and over in the yard.

He ran and opened the garage door and called over the howling of the wind for me to come inside. I turned and waved for Mother to stay in the car and followed him.

My parka kept my head and torso dry but my jeans and feet were soaked. I pushed back my hood and the boy gasped.

“You're Paisley Sterling!”

I looked more closely and saw that he was not a “he” after all, but a small, very thin young woman. Her short blond hair was plastered close to her wet head. Her face was tiny and boyish with huge brown eyes like a frightened little animal.

“You shouldn't be here! You gott'a go. I gott'a get away before she comes back. I gott'a get the baby away before it's too late!”

She pushed me frantically back out of the garage. I stumbled and fell flat on my behind. She covered her face with her hands and then shook her head violently and screamed over the wind.

“GO AWAY!”

The girl ran into the house through a door in the garage. I tried to get up but the floor was newly painted and very slippery. By the time I made it back to my feet she had come back to the garage carrying a sleeping child and a large duffle bag. She almost slipped on the floor herself, and I rushed to help her. I grabbed the bag out of her hand and opened the car door for her. She shot me a grateful look and sat the baby gently down in the car seat in the back. She secured him and tucked a soft blanket carefully around to keep him warm.

I opened the front door and pulled the trunk lever, then went around to the back of the car and hoisted the duffle bag inside. The trunk was full of other bags, mostly plastic, full of clothes, some canned goods, and baby food jars. It looked like she was planning to be gone for a long time.

She closed the car door. Then she grabbed me by the hand, pulled me in the kitchen and shut the door against the storm. The sudden quiet disoriented me for a moment.

“Why did you come here?” Her pinched face was full of alarm.

“I wanted to tell you and your mother how sorry I was about your father's death.” Then I added the hard part: “To apologize for all the trouble and heartache I've caused you.” I blurted it out all at once, relieved to finally put my feelings into words. “I know I can't change what's happened but I hope.…”

She started laughing. Her small mouth opened wide and I could see her cavity-filled, yellow-stained, teeth. She had obviously never had the benefit of a visit to the dentist.

“That's funny, really funny!” she laughed. “What a great funny stupid joke, Paisley Sterling.”

She stopped laughing and poked a thin sharp finger in my ribs.

“You know why I know who you are? Because of all those books you wrote for kids. Nobody ever gave me any, but I got them from the library. Your picture was on the back, sometimes with your daughter.”

“Yes,” I said softly, “that's Cassandra.”

She made a sound between a snort and a sob.

“Well, I used to dream that I was there with you and what's-her-name. That I could be your kid and not theirs. You looked so happy,” she ended wistfully.

She looked out of the kitchen window at the storm blowing across the lake and then back at me. Fear was in her eyes.

“I gott'a get out of here,” she repeated, “before she gets back. She killed him, and I'm afraid she'll kill me and the baby.”

“I…I thought your father committed suicide?”

I was stunned. I wanted answers, lots of them, but she was very agitated and I was afraid of pushing her too far.

She ran her fingers nervously through her wet hair.

“Do you have any money, Paisley Sterling? She never lets me have any.”

She started crying, “I promise I won't buy dope. That's all she talks about. I'm a drug addict, a no good slut. I promise, Paisley Sterling. I need to get away is all. I need to protect Jimmy.”

She was sobbing hard now.

I zipped open the pocket of my parka and tugged out some damp bills, a twenty and two tens. I pressed them into her hand.

“Ah, Jeesz, thanks a bunch.” She tucked the money away. “It's just…I don't know where to go, what to do,” she whined. “But it's none of your doin'. Don't blame yourself for any of this. She's the one. I hate her! That bitch!” She spit the words out hard and full of anger. “I never had no use for him either. He never was a real father. Most if the time he just ignored me. I thought they'd swallow a cow when I came home last year with Jimmy. I got sick, hepatitis. I couldn't take care of the baby. I had no other choice, or thought I didn't.”

She looked at me slyly.

“I seen what they was plannin' to do. She talked about it every night when they thought I was asleep. I slept a lot when I was sick,” she explained. “The bitch told him over and over again, those old people had no use for all that money when she needed it so bad. She egged him on. She wanted so many things, clothes and trips, this house, new furniture.”

She stopped talking and looked nervously out the window.

“I gott'a go!”

I sat down heavily on one of the pretty new chairs Sue Dibber had wanted so badly. The girl looked frantically at the wall clock. She tugged on the wet hem of my parka like a little child.

“She'll be gettin' home soon. Her shift is over. Let's go,” she begged.

I was astonished. “Your mother went to work today? But your father.…”

“Yeh, yeh, I know. But you see, that's all she ever cared about, not us kids, not him, at least while I was around. She just loved her job. Taking care of other people's sick kids instead of her own. You know the only time I ever went to a doctor in my life was when I had Jimmy! She didn't even take care of me and the baby when I came home sick.”

She grabbed my hand with her sharp little talons.

“Look, lady, I appreciate the money and all, but we've gott'a get goin'.”

“Wait! I don't even know your name.”

“Mary Ann, nice to meetcha'. Now, let's.…”

“Mary Ann, you can come home with me. My mother's in the car. I'm sure she would love to have you stay with us.”

“Yeh, I bet!” she snorted scornfully. “Besides, being with you would be the worst place to be. She wants to kill you next!”

She was out of the door and in her car before I could stop her. She backed out fast past Watson and Mother and swerved into the rain slick street. I held my breath for a moment as she almost skidded into a tree. Her rear tire bounced off the curb and then back down on the asphalt, and she was gone.

I looked around at the pretty little blue and white kitchen and all the shiny new appliances. I thought about the greed and deceit that had gone into their acquisition. Briefly, I considered exploring some of the other rooms, but Mary Ann's fear had infected me. I just wanted out. The kitchen had begun to spook me with its brand new House Beautiful perfect prettiness.

I closed the kitchen door and ran back to Watson. Mother leaned over and unlocked the door.

“My God, Paisley, I was scared to death. What took you so long? I almost went for the police.”

“I'll tell you about it when we get on the road. We've got to make tracks.”

I pulled out of the driveway and had just gotten to the end of the street when a brand new, midnight blue Lexus passed me going way too fast for the wet road. I could not see the driver but as I continued to watch in my rearview mirror I saw the car turn into the Dibbers' drive.

The weather improved as we got closer to Rowan Springs. It was only thirty miles, but the clouds were moving towards the lake and we were going in the opposite direction.

I carefully related, word for word, everything that Mary Ann Dibber had said to me. I was beginning to feel much better and much less culpable. I wanted to hear what Mother had to say.

“I don't believe Sue did it. Ernest killed William and Abigail, and Rae Ann, and then himself when you exposed the truth.”

“That's not what I wanted you to say. I don't want to hear that my silly book drove a man to suicide. Try again.”

“Paisley, do you honestly think we can take the word of a sixteen-year old.…”

“Seventeen, she must be seventeen by now.”

“…seventeen-year old drug addict?”

“She was terrified, Mother, not just for herself, for her baby. I invited her to come and stay with us.”

“You did what? Don't you think that's taking Southern hospitality just a little too far?”

“Don't worry. She turned me down. She said I was next on her mother's hit list and being around me wouldn't be safe.”

“So, not only is this poor wronged woman, a hard-working nurse, a mother of five, and a pillar of the community, out to kill her own daughter and grandson, but she wants to do you in as well? I'm sorry, Paisley, but I just don't buy it.”

“Who said she was a pillar of the community? You were perfectly willing to believe that she aided and abetted Ernest, falsifying records and whatnot.”