Deadly Medicine (14 page)

“She stayed here. Her husband owned a farm, and she worked it a bit, ran the farm stand out by the road, had a baby. All the normal stuff.”

“So what happened to you?”

“I was a stewardess.” Frieda chuckled and shook her head. “Can you believe that? Me, in a dress and pumps?”

Ward nodded and looked at Frieda in her khakis and plain gray sweatshirt. “That is hard to imagine.”

“I’ll show you a picture. Anyway, I was the stewardess on Navy One. Did you ever hear of Navy One?”

Ward shook her head no.

“Did you ever hear of Air Force One?”

Ward nodded.

“Navy One was its predecessor.”

Ward opened her eyes in wonder. “So you were the stewardess to the president? Of the United States?”

A sweet smile of recollection appeared on Frieda’s face, smoothing out the wrinkles and making her look younger. Or perhaps it was the fire casting its red glow. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Which president was that?” Ward tried to do the math, tried to remember American history. Obama, homophobic Bush, Clinton, other Bush, Reagan, Carter, Ford, Nixon, Johnson, Kennedy, Eisenhower, Truman.

“Eisenhower,” Frieda said.

“Holy shit! What did he drink?”

“Coffee. Gallons and gallons of coffee.”

“Oh. My. God! Frieda, that’s amazing. So you just flew around with the president?”

“Yeah. That’s how I learned to play golf. The crew would have time off at bases when he landed. He’d get escorted off base by limousine, and we’d stay with the plane and kill time. Sometimes for days.”

“Wow. How long did you stay in the navy?”

“Oh, a little over three years. Then the pilot decided to land the plane in the Potomac, and that was enough for me. Nothing will cure your love of flying like a plane crash.”

“Holy shit! The president’s plane crashed? Was anyone hurt?”

“The president wasn’t on board, and no one was seriously hurt. But I got off that plane and took the first bus home. I never flew again.”

Ward nodded. She also hated to fly, but for other reasons. “So you came home to Ursula?”

Frieda took another chocolate-chip cookie from the container and thought for a moment. “She heard I was home and invited me to lunch. Her son, Mark, was just a toddler. She put him down for his nap, and, well…” Frieda smiled broadly.

“So she left her husband?”

Frieda shook her head. “No, nothing was that easy, Doc. The navy came looking for me, and they hauled me back to Washington. I flunked my psychiatric testing, and they didn’t make me get on a plane again, but I did have to stick it out for another year.”

“What happened to Ursula?”

“Well, baby number two came along. A girl, Brenda. When I was discharged from the navy, I had no job, no money, and she had two kids to support. She wasn’t going to risk losing custody of them or letting them go hungry so she could live with me.”

“So she gave you up?”

“No. Hell, no. We snuck around for a year, mostly those long lunches when the kids went for their naps.”

“And then she left him?” Ward was eager to know the story. She knew Frieda got the girl, but how? How did it work fifty years ago?

“No. I killed him.”

Ward leaned forward in her chair, grateful her mug of tea was nearly empty. “What?”

“I killed him.”

Ward remembered the shotgun at the lake and realized just how little she knew about Frieda. “Holy shit, Frieda. Did you go to jail?”

“Nah. He shot first. Fortunately, my aim was better.”

“Are you making this up?” Ward asked, meeting her gaze. It was hard to believe.

“No, Doc, I’m not. He came home, caught us in the act, and pointed a gun at me. I jumped out the window, ran across the porch roof, and jumped into the flowerbed below. On my way to my truck, he hit me in the shoulder. I knew if I stopped running, I was dead. I got the door open, somehow pulled my shotgun off the rack behind the seat, and managed to hold it with my left arm. My right was hanging, useless. I felt faint, from pain or blood loss, who knows? But the adrenaline kept me alive. Fear. I didn’t want to die. Not naked in Ursula’s driveway, anyway.”

“And you managed to shoot him? And kill him?”

“Yeah, I did. He kept coming toward me, pointing his rifle at me, not aiming it—walking carefully, conscious of the ruts in the dirt drive. I rested the gun across the hood of my truck, aimed it at his chest. When he stopped, I told him to put his gun down. When he sighted it, I pulled the trigger. Hit him in the heart. He never got his shot off, other than that first one that hit my shoulder.”

“Wow.”

“So Ursula got the farm, and I moved in with her and helped her run it. Paid the bills doing photography and running the cutting floor at the underwear factory. Put both kids through college.”

“Where are they now?”

Suddenly Ward remembered the question she’d asked about kids when she’d been at Frieda’s house. She used to have them. A sense of dread filled her heart.

“Can’t say. When their mom died, they kicked me out. Sold the farm out from under me, left me with practically nothing.”

Ward didn’t know what to say. Were there words of comfort to offer in such a situation?

“Maybe we should have that beer,” she said.

Snake Bites

Ward’s car was full as she pulled into the driveway of the house she once shared with Jess. Garden had bloomed in the late spring, and everywhere she looked bright patches of color filled her eyes. This small town showed no evidence of a recession or decay; every property was lovingly maintained, from the paint on the shutters to the fresh mulch in the flowerbeds. It was the end of June and the town was bright and alive, as it had been when they moved here the summer before.

It was a stark contrast to the bleak, freezing day when she’d left. Nearly six months had passed since that horrible day when Ward had awakened to learn she’d assaulted her rival for Jess’s affections and her life had changed forever. Back then, she’d never thought she was leaving for good. Jess would come to her senses, Ward thought, and they’d be back together before the snowdrifts on their street had a chance to turn black with mud.

It was hard to believe that had been the end, but after all these months, it was likely they’d never patch things up. That was okay, really. Back then Ward had thought she’d never recover from the loss of Jess, but now as she sat beside their former home, she knew she would. It had taken time, and tears, and a few new friends, but she was beginning to heal. She thought she could see Jess without crying, without begging for another chance. At least she hoped she could, because she didn’t want to humiliate herself before Jess yet again. She had to face her though, and she couldn’t help wondering what was going on.

Jess had asked her over to talk, calling the night before as Ward was packing for the weekend at Jeannie’s house. She’d spent the month of June in the bustling town of Venley, half an hour north of Scranton on Interstate 81. It had been a busy month as she patched up gas workers injured on the job and in drunken brawls. With the explosion of the natural-gas industry in the mountains, the small hospital had tripled its volume nearly overnight and was ill equipped to handle the increase in patient flow. It seemed much like the inner city, with men of every race and religion, speaking several languages, all demanding instant attention. Thankfully, June was behind her. Only one more month until her contractual obligation with the locum tenens company was fulfilled, and then she could enjoy some R&R. She’d head back to Philly and her former life. Or was it her future life? She didn’t know what to think, but somewhere in the mountains she had found herself again, and she knew she’d be okay.

In the meantime, she had four days off before she began her new assignment. She’d turned down an offer of golf from Frieda and the unbelievable opportunity to visit a rattlesnake roundup in Noxen in favor of a few days of rest. She planned to spend her time relaxing on the deck with a good book. If Jess hadn’t called, she’d already be there, but she’d waited so they could talk. She’d been waiting six months to talk, so what the hell did Jess want to talk about now?

Part of her hoped Jess wanted to reconcile, and part of her hoped she wanted to end it once and for all. All of her hoped for an explanation for Jess’s strange behavior. She wasn’t optimistic on any front.

Jess had been dating Wendy, but that relationship seemed no more fulfilling for Jess than theirs had been. She was still searching and Ward was tired of waiting. She’d done a lot of thinking during the lonely six months she’d spent without Jess, and although her heart was still broken, she no longer looked at her as the angel she once worshipped. Jess had flaws, many of them, and Ward had allowed her to walk all over her in their time together.

Their separation had been no different—Jess had made the decisions, and Ward was forced to live with the consequences. So, if Jess decided it was over, she was ready. If Jess decided she wanted to try again—well, Ward wasn’t so sure what to do about that. She wasn’t willing to go back to the way things were, and she didn’t delude herself into thinking Jess could change. As much as she loved Zeke and Pat, they’d spoiled their only child and created a monster that Ward had been forced to contend with. She wasn’t willing to do it anymore. Jess had said she’d changed and used that as the excuse for ending their relationship. Perhaps that was true. But she could never change in the ways Ward needed her to. At least Ward didn’t think she could. The sliver of hope alive in her heart that Jess could be the woman Ward wanted and needed was indeed a small one.

Other parts of Ward’s brain argued that Jess’s call was completely unrelated to their relationship. After all, Jess hadn’t hesitated to discuss things on the phone before, little bits of gossip like she was dating the coroner, so why make her come all the way to Garden now if that was the reason for the visit? Perhaps Zeke was in poor health. Considering his behavior, that wouldn’t have surprised Ward. Or maybe Jess was sick. That thought gave Ward her own set of physical symptoms. Maybe she needed to ask for a favor. Who knew? If she didn’t get out of the car and knock on the door, she’d never find out.

“I thought you were going to sit in the car all morning,” Jess said as she stood back to allow Ward into the brightly painted kitchen. Sunlight blazed through the dozens of panes in the tall windows, lighting up the yellow walls. White wooden cabinets, extending from the granite counters to the ten-foot-high ceilings, were original to the hundred-year-old house, and Ward looked at them, and the rest of the kitchen, with a sense of loss. She’d once dreamed of living in this house forever, on the quiet street with the huge yard in the small town where Jess had been born.

Shaking off the sadness, Ward took the proffered seat at the small wooden table but declined the coffee. She’d stopped for breakfast before leaving Venley, and a second cup would only agitate her already friable nerves. “I was just thinking about our move here. It’s almost a year.”

“Yeah,” Jess admitted, but seemed uncomfortable at the subject. Ward didn’t have a chance to wonder why.

“I want to stay here, Ward. I love this house and this town. I want to sell the house in Philly and move here.”

Ward had known this was a possibility, and Jess spoke softly and with all the care possible under the circumstances, but her words were still a hard blow. She physically felt the force of them push her back in her chair, felt her eyes fill with the tears she swore she would never cry again for Jessica Benson.

Jess said nothing but handed Ward a tissue and poured the unwanted cup of coffee. Her mind was blank as she watched Jess move around their kitchen, the vision broken by a million film clips of their years together. Good years. Mostly good times. But not good enough, she supposed.

“I suppose you mean without me,” Ward said, just to clarify. Just to be sure Jess really meant it was over.

Meeting her gaze, Jess answered gently. “Yeah. Without you.”

Ward sniffed. “What have you done? About this?”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

For some stupid reason, they still shared a bank account, and both of their salaries were directly deposited into it. The mortgage on their Philly house and all their other joint bills came out of that account, and although Ward had access to it, Jess had always managed the money. She could have written a check for a hundred thousand dollars and wiped out the account, drained all of their savings, and Ward wouldn’t have known about it. Only her retirement account was protected. Even she couldn’t get money out of that without a presidential decree.

“I mean, our money. Have you drained the accounts? Have you sold all of our furniture? What am I looking at here?”

Jess sighed. “I guess I deserve such a malicious accusation, but the answer is no, and no.” Then she shook her head. “I don’t hate you. This isn’t about you. It’s about me and my needs. I wrote myself a check for half the money in our joint accounts. I need it for the down payment here. The other half is yours. The bank will need both of our signatures to close the accounts, but it won’t matter if there’s no money in them. We can take care of that when I come to Philly.”

“Oh, okay,” Ward said, as if it all made perfect sense, when in fact nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Jess had taken her half of their money! Wow. Ward had never felt so stupid in all of her life, and she was grateful at the moment that Jess had left her anything.

She thought about the house in Philly, their house, and felt a surge of anxiety. What had Jess done with their things?

“What about the house? Did you raid it?”

Jess shook her head and frowned. “I wanted to talk to you before I take anything. Other than a few things I had before we moved in, most of it we bought together. If you’re planning to keep the house, you might want to keep the furniture. It all goes so well with the house. ”

Ward was stunned. Did she even want the house without Jess? They had purchased it together, lovingly decorated it to make a home, spent much of their time there. It was a great house, twenty-five hundred square feet of wood and stone and glass, with a magnificently landscaped yard ideal for reading on a bench swing beneath a shade tree or cooking out on a summer evening. She might like to keep it. Or she might not. She wasn’t sure if she could live there with Jess’s ghosts, and at the moment, she was certain Jess would haunt her forever.