Don't Take Any Wooden Nickels (44 page)

“You don’t remember everything, do you?” he asked.

I looked up at the ceiling, thinking through the memories, trying to put it together.

“Did I do something?” I asked, feeling him slip away from me. I could tell a wall was slowly going up between us.

Before he could reply, a nurse bustled into the room.

“I see we’re awake!” she said loudly, coming to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“A little dizzy,” I replied.

“That’s to be expected,” she said to me, and then she turned to Kirby. “Would you excuse us for a minute, hon?”

He nodded and left the room. I watched as the nurse checked my IV and then recorded the readings from some machines behind me. She pulled down the covers to examine the dressing on my wound and then she made some more notes in my chart.

“The doctor should be around shortly,” she said finally, pulling the sheets back up and then tucking the chart into its holder at the end of the bed. “I expect he’ll want to keep you overnight. But unless there are complications, you’ll probably be discharged in the morning.”

“Good.”

“Try to drink some water,” she said, pointing to a pitcher and a cup on my side table. “Oh, and you’ve got a line of people out there waiting to talk to you.”

“Police?”

“Police, reporters, friends—practically a whole waiting room full of folks. Once your boyfriend’s gone, we’ll let them in one at a time.”

“Kirby? Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s not?” she asked, a bemused expression on her face. “That’s good. Because from what I heard, you’ve spent half the day moaning for somebody named ‘Tom.’”

She bustled out as quickly as she had come in. My face was still bright red when Kirby returned and began gathering his things. Finally, he straightened and put his jacket over his arm.

“Kirby?” I asked, looking up at him. “I’m so sorry.”

“I just stayed until I knew you were okay,” he said. “Now I’m going to go.”

“But what about us?”

He leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the forehead.

“Ah, Callie, there is no ‘us,’” he whispered, looking into my eyes. “Believe me, your heart is definitely elsewhere.”

Forty-Nine

Six days later, my head wound and side were better, most of the bandages were off of my hands, and I was feeling stronger. I had intended to spend the week holing up quietly in my house and healing, but that wasn’t exactly how it had gone. Instead, I had received a steady stream of visitors—from officials who needed to question me, to Shayna, who was like a new person now that she had been released from jail. And Verlene had put herself in charge of seeing that the church kept me well supplied with pies and casseroles for my entire convalescence.

I’d like to say that all of the commotion was bothersome to my solitary soul, but the truth was I was grateful for all of the people who had come into my life and were surrounding me now with such love and care. Dewey and Murdock had come by several times just to check on me, and the two of them had even spent a morning repairing Sal’s fence and then assembling my new barbecue grill, compliments of Eli Gold. If the Lord wanted to teach me a thing or two about making connections and accepting help from others, He certainly threw me in feet first! I just loved it when God showed His sense of humor.

In fact, the only person who seemed conspicuously absent was Kirby. We had spoken on the phone a number of times, but we hadn’t seen each other in person since he walked out of my hospital room.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. One part of me missed him, missed his sense of humor and his enthusiasm for adventure. Another part of me, however, felt an odd sense of relief that he was out of my life in that way. I wondered if we would ever be able to forget about the hint of romance we had shared and simply become good friends. I hoped, eventually, that we could.

Now there was another knock at the door, and I opened it to see a man in a suit, huge and handsome in a rough sort of way, the familiar scar shining from his chin.

“Hank?” I asked.

“Hi, Callie.”

“Wow! You clean up real nice!” I told him, laughing. Gone were the fisherman clothes and the scruffy two-day growth of beard. Even the scar on his chin, rather than making him look fierce, now simply lent an exotic touch to his rugged face.

“Yeah, well, now that I’m not undercover anymore, I thought it was time that Shayna saw the real me.”

“She’s in for a treat. Would you like to come in?”

“No, no,” he said, and I realized that his car was sitting in the driveway with the engine still running. “I was on my way to Kawshek, so I thought I’d just stop off and say goodbye. I’m driving Shayna to her new apartment in Annapolis today, and then I’ll be going on back to DC. I’m all done here.”

“Aren’t you coming to the ceremony this afternoon?”

“Oh, right, we might drop by,” he said. “It’s at five, right?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we’ll see you there.”

He looked almost nervous as he stood in front of me, hands tucked in his pockets, and I realized there was more on his agenda than just a friendly goodbye.

“You know,” he continued shyly, “with Shayna living in Annapolis and me in DC, I really think this could work. It’s not that far of a drive for us to get together sometimes. I mean, I know she broke things off with me before. But maybe now that the situation has changed, she might give me another chance. You’re her friend. Do you think so?”

I tried to remember what Shayna had told me about Hank. The only real reason she had broken up with him in the first place was because she thought he was a waterman content to live his life out in Kawshek, the one place she wanted desperately to leave. I smiled at him now, thinking how cute it was that he had felt the need to stop by and ask my opinion before trying to find romance again with Shayna.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if things work out for the two of you very well this time,” I said, winking. “Just a hunch, you know.”

“Thanks, Callie.”

Hank and I hugged, the connection of our traumatic experience bonding us in a way that not many other things could. He stiffened as he stood back up straight, and I realized he was still in pain with the broken ribs—and probably would be for a while. At least he was still alive.

Once he was gone, I decided to make my lunch. I was just heating a bit of a casserole in the microwave when there was another knock at the door. It was Denise Hightower, proffering a yummy-looking coffee cake and a big smile. She had already called me a few times this week, but this was the first chance she’d had, she said, to stop by.

She sat at the table, declining my offer of lunch, and filled me in on her sister’s condition. Apparently, Barbara was still in the hospital but was doing very well and would probably be released in a few days. Denise talked about the trauma of having a sister who was a cop, and I realized that was something we had in common. My brother, Michael, had put me through many a sleepless night in his years on the force, too. It was the price we paid.

After I finished eating, Denise got around to what she’d wanted all along. She gestured toward the scarf I had wrapped snugly around my head, suggesting politely that I take it off and let her see. Blushing, I removed the covering to reveal the disaster that until now I had managed to ignore. The place where my scalp was injured had formed a scab, fortunately, and since it was at the nape of my neck it barely showed under the back of my hair.

But the rest of my head was a nightmare, a chopped-up mess I had a feeling I would have to hide under hats and scarves for a long time to come.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Denise said, standing behind me and fingering the layers carefully. “The important thing is that your head wound is healing.”

“True.”

“Besides,” she said, “you’re a beautiful woman, Callie. You’d probably look good bald.”

“Thank you.”

She crossed to where she had hung her purse on the chair.

“No, thank
you,”
she said, and then she grinned.

“For what?”

She dug into her purse and pulled out a little black case. I watched as she opened it to reveal, nestled in satin lining, a shining pair of silver scissors.

“For the opportunity,” she said, “to finally give you a decent haircut.”

Fifty

The ribbon-cutting ceremony was brief but touching, with Verlene giving a quick speech and then Kirby unveiling the temporary sign that would hang on the door of the new, expanded Advancing Attire until the permanent brass plaque arrived. Kirby held up the sign and read it out loud: “This building is lovingly dedicated to the memory of Grace Collins.”

I stood off to one side of the crowd, tears inexplicably filling my eyes. Only I knew how far Kirby had had to grow just to get to this point. Just a short while ago he had been marveling at Tom’s philanthropy, wondering how a person could just give their money away. Now, today, he had joined forces with the J.O.S.H.U.A. Foundation, offering a combined grant that would cover the cost of the lease and the necessary alterations for the building next door to Advancing Attire. Through our joint efforts, Verlene was going to have her big expansion after all.

I thought it was a wonderful venture, and I was glad that Kirby had been willing to work with me to make it happen. I looked at him up there in front of the crowd, and I felt almost motherly, as though the Lord had allowed me to have some small part in helping him grow.

If so, it was only fair, I realized, since he had certainly helped me to grow as well.

Standing on the other side of Verlene was her daughter, Joanne, and I studied her for a moment, thinking what an attractive girl she was. At nearly six feet in high heels, she was tall but willowy, with long blond hair, a perfect nose and chin, and intelligent eyes. As I watched her, I noticed she was eyeing Kirby a bit, and when he glanced back at her and smiled, I was surprised but pleased. Joanne was a great person. I thought she and Kirby might have a lot in common.

I turned my attention elsewhere, to Verlene’s cutting of the ribbon, to the applause of the small crowd that was gathered there on the sidewalk to watch. It was a gorgeously sunny fall day, and as the ceremony ended, I couldn’t help thinking that my only regret was that Tom couldn’t be here now, too. I fingered my new hairdo self-consciously, wondering what his reaction would be when he found out I was no longer the “lady with the bun.” Denise had done an amazing job, blending the parts I had hacked up into a layered cut that came just to the midpoint of my neck. Though I hated to admit it, the style was perfect for me. Not only was it flattering and chic, but it also seemed to take several years off of my appearance. Chalk one up for my friend and hairdresser, who, when she was finished, had beamed and said, simply,
I told you so.

Tom, meanwhile, was far away in Singapore, and our communications were spotty and ill-timed at best. It was just as well, since I hadn’t wanted to burden him with all that had happened here. Compared to his mother’s health issues and the work that had been waiting for his attention on the other side of the world, I didn’t think that my cuts and bruises were all that significant.

But I missed him. How I missed him! We had spoken just a few times in the past week, and each conversation hadn’t been much more than matters of business, working out the details of the grant to Advancing Attire and making arrangements for my next investigation. Each time we spoke, he sounded tired and distracted; and though he had asked about the INS raid and how things had gone, he obviously hadn’t received any sort of update from his own sources, because he took me at my word that the situation was “fine” and that all of the loose ends had been “wrapped up.”

I knew that if he ever found out all the details of that night—particularly my injuries and subsequent hospitalization—he’d be angry that I had kept so much from him. For once, he didn’t know everything there was to know about me, and to my surprise I found that oddly unsettling.

“Oh, Callie, I can’t ever thank you enough,” Verlene cried now, interrupting my thoughts and hugging me tightly. “I’ll never get over all you went through just to investigate that horrible company.”