My Lost and Found Life (29 page)

I woke up in a hospital bed with an IV in my left arm and plastic oxygen tubes hooked inside my nose.

A woman in a pale green smock came in and fussed with the plastic bag hanging on the hook near my head.

“My chest hurts,” I said.

“I shouldn't wonder,” she answered. “You had a collapsed lung. Your doctor will come by later and explain. Would you like some water or chicken broth?”

I shook my head and closed my eyes again. Some time later I reopened them when another woman wheeled a cart next to my bed and expertly thrust a thermometer into my ear. As the woman took hold of my arm and began to attach a blood-pressure cuff, I noticed someone sitting in the chair at the foot of my bed. It was Nicole.

“Nic,” I said foolishly. “What are you doing here?”

“So you still remember who I am. I was beginning to wonder.” She walked over to the other side of my bed and took my hand in hers. “Why didn't you return my calls, you jerk?”

I waited until the temperature taker finished and left the
room. “I was going to. It's just that … there's been a lot going on.”

“No kidding. I can't believe you've been living in Phil's camper. Why didn't you let me know? I would have helped you. I would have borrowed some money from my dad for you.”

“I know,” I said. “But it wasn't your problem. Anyway, I didn't move into the camper until after you left town.”

“You could have called me. All those letters and e-mails and not once did you think to mention where you were living! I feel so bad that you had to go through that.”

I could see tears glistening in her eyes. “Well, I'm fine. See?”

Nicole chuckled. “Bronchitis and a collapsed lung. Yeah, you're the picture of good health.”

I took a good look at her. She was glowing and had a new air of self-confidence that I had never seen before.

“It's really good to see you. You look wonderful.”

“Thanks,” she said, bending over and showing me her scalp. “Look, no hair loss. Can you believe it? I don't twist and pull my hair anymore. I'm completely cured.”

She paused and then giggled. “Well, almost completely cured.”

“That's great. How did you do it?”

Nicole gave me a sideways smile. “Getting away helped a lot. From my mother, of course, but it turns out that I had to get away from you too.”

I winced. “Ouch!”

“I didn't mean it like that,” she said hastily. “It's just that you've always protected me. Juliana, my therapist, said I needed
to learn to deal with my own problems instead of relying on you to rescue me. I leaned on you too much.”

“You're seeing a therapist? Since when?”

“Well, I never told you—I never told anyone. I had a hard time adjusting to college and being on my own. I didn't want to admit how hard it was. Everyone there seemed smarter and more self-confident than me. I thought I was going to go completely crazy if I didn't talk to someone. Then I found Juliana through the dean's office. She's really helped me see that I could do it alone.”

I just looked at her, not sure how to respond.

“But I've missed you a lot,” she added, her eyes shimmering again. “We're together again, and it's my turn to help you. When you get out of here, you're definitely not going back to that camper. You'll come home with me. You're my best friend and that's where you should be.”

“No. Never. I don't want to be anywhere near the happy couple,” I said fiercely.

She was silent for a moment. “So you know about that?”

“About Cindy and Phil?” I managed a shaky laugh. “Yeah, she couldn't wait to rub it in my face.”

“I'm sorry, Ash. I had no idea.”

“Don't worry about it. I was pretty clueless myself, and not just about that. But I've learned to take care of myself too, and I'll figure something out. It's just that I had some money saved to rent a place and—”

“And you still have it!” said Gloria as she strode into the room carrying a vase full of my favorite red roses.

“I do?” I tried to sit up but couldn't.

“Yep, every penny of it. It's all there.”

“Where was it?”

Gloria looked a little sheepish at that question. “The boys took it. They had it hidden in their toy box.”

“You're kidding,” Nicole interjected as I stared dumbly at Gloria.

“Nope. They followed Ashley into the garage one day and watched her take the money out and count it. To them it was like play money. They took it and played with it, then hid it just like she did. Believe me, they know better now.”

Gloria said the last sentence with such emphasis that Nicole and I exchanged glances, both of us wondering what she did to them.

“Then everything really will be all right,” I said with relief. Then a dark thought hit me. “What about the hospital bill? This must be costing a fortune.”

“I've talked to your boss, and he told me about the fire. Your doctor feels that smoke inhalation caused or contributed to your condition, and Malcolm says his insurance will pay your hospital bill.”

“You talked to Malcolm?” I said in wonder. “You have been busy. I guess I'm confused. Didn't you just get home from Colorado?”

“Two days ago. Phil called me right after you were brought here,” she answered.

“You've been here since yesterday morning,” Nicole chimed in.

“I have?” I said.

“You have. Where do you want these?” Gloria waved the vase of roses she held.

“Right there,” I said, pointing to the table at the foot of the bed. “So I can see them. Thank you, they're beautiful.”

“They are nice,” she agreed, rearranging them slightly. “Who are the rest of them from?”

Only then did I notice three other flower arrangements, all of them oversized flower-shop deliveries.

“I don't know,” I said in amazement.

Nicole picked up the cards and read one to me. “
To our little heroine. Get well soon. Mal and the Inmates.
Sounds like a rock group,” she laughed.

The second one was from Phil, Earl, and Reynaldo, and the last card was the most astonishing of all. It was signed
Ted Strobel
.

“You see?” Nicole said. “There are a lot of people who care about you.”

I turned my head into the pillow so Nic and Gloria wouldn't see me cry.

• • •

Over the next two days I had more visitors, including Earl and his granddaughter, Malcolm, and Bella. When Phil showed up, we both avoided the topic of Cindy.

After talking about the weather and the gas station and my car needing a tune-up, Phil cleared his throat and said, “About the camper—”

I interrupted him. “I don't need to stay there anymore. I'm
going to stay with Gloria a few days and then find a place in the city.”

“That's good,” he said with obvious relief.

“I want you to know that I'm very grateful to you for letting me stay there.”

Phil avoided my eyes and said, “Well, I'm feeling a little guilty about that, after you ended up in here. Your mother—”

I interrupted him again. I did not want to discuss my mother with Phil ever again. “That's not your fault. I am truly grateful to you for letting me stay. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped me out. Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” he said, looking me in the eyes for the first time.

“There you are. Even in here you're still a glamour-puss.” Malcolm's voice boomed so loud they could probably hear him at the nurse's station. Behind him I could hear Bella's giggle and see Tom grinning at me.

As the three of them thundered into my room, Phil gave me a wave and slipped out the door.

Sunday morning Officer Strobel strolled into my hospital room, dressed in regular clothes instead of his cop's uniform. It was only 8:15, but I was wide awake because the woman in the next bed had been whining nonstop for the last hour about how the nurses didn't understand the tremendous amount of pain she was suffering.

“Hi!” I said in surprise. “Thanks for the flowers. Have a seat.”

“You're welcome,” he said and sat down.

After an awkward silence I hesitantly asked if he had brought me to the hospital.

“Yeah, Earl called me. I took one look at you and knew you needed to get to a doctor right away. Ever since the robbery, I'd been keeping an eye on the gas station, so I had already figured out you were living in the camper,” Strobel said, shaking his head at me in disapproval. “I was going to speak to Phil about it. Living there was a really dumb idea.”

I started to bristle and then he added, “Still, I have to admit
you've got guts. I thought you were just another spoiled, selfish Burlingame brat. But, in spite of that big chip on your shoulder, you've got courage.”

I didn't know whether to be flattered or offended by his remark. I decided not to waste my energy getting mad.

“I wouldn't call it courage,” I admitted. “I just didn't have any choice. It was sink or swim after my mother disappeared.”

“I see a lot of teenagers sink like stones. They're used to their parents buying them whatever they want, so they think they can buy their way out of any situation. They perpetrate all kinds of offenses, get caught, and find out—surprise—there are some things money can't buy.”

“You know, it's funny, I never hear anyone except a cop—I mean, officer of the law—use the word
perpetrate,
” I tweaked him.

He flashed a quick smile, but kept on ranting. “All of the kids around here have this sense of entitlement—as if the world owes them something and they don't have to work for anything. They get handed it all. Life is one big party for them. They think they're exempt from the rules that the rest of us have to live by.”

I held up my hand to stop him. “Excuse me, but I don't think it's all their fault.
Somebody
has encouraged them to think they're special and exempt from the rules, you know. Anyway, where did you grow up that's so different?”

He gave me a sheepish grin. “Oh, I grew up around here, just like you. But my parents taught me some values.”

“Poor Strobel,” I said lightly. “Did Daddy give you values instead of a nice new car or a stereo?”

“I have a first name, you know. It's Ted.”

“All right, Officer Ted. We'll agree that you were raised better than the rest of us. How about having a little sympathy for those who weren't so lucky?”

He recrossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. “Well, I have to admit it's not
all
upbringing. Some people survive and turn out to be good citizens in spite of the worst sort of home environment. Others cross the line and end up in the gutter no matter how much love and money Mommy and Daddy give them. An awful lot of people are just plain weak. If they never have to face anything too difficult, they remain law abiding, but the minute a situation turns ugly, it's impossible to know how they'll react.”

“That's a very cynical view of the world you've got there, Ted.”

“Cynical? Maybe,” he said. “But I've learned it the hard way, one day at a time. I'm happy to see that you can take care of yourself and stay out of trouble when things get tough. I wasn't too sure for a while there. You started running with a bad crowd—”

“A bad crowd! What do you mean?” I interjected.

“That Krylov kid. She's a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Tattie's all right. She's been a good friend to me,” I retorted.

“You don't need friends like that,” he said.

“I think I can decide that for myself,” I said icily.

We both fell silent. Then I said in a tight voice, “Well, thanks for stopping by. I appreciate everything you've done for me.”

He shuffled to his feet, walked to the end of the bed, and
stared down at me. “So, what are you going to do now? You can't go back to living in the camper.”

“I'm making other arrangements.”

“Good,” he said. “I'm glad I was wrong about you. And I'm pretty sure you're going to be fine.”

For the next twenty-four hours, all I did was think about my future. The hospital would be releasing me sometime tomorrow, and Gloria had invited me to stay with her family until I was fully recuperated and had found a place of my own. But that was only a short-term solution. I had kept everything on hold while I waited for my mother to come back. But I couldn't keep waiting for something that might never happen. Nicole was going back to school soon. Tattie was partying in Mexico. Patrick had left with a fair-thee-well. The Madhouse had gone up in smoke.

As far as I could see, I had only three options. I could become a total outlaw like Tattie, but comfort and safety are important to me. I wasn't cut out for living on the edge. Option two was to just drift and see what happened, but that hadn't worked well so far. That left Door Number Three: I could try to create the life I wanted. The inmates of the Madhouse seemed to embrace this philosophy—Mal especially. The coffeehouse functioned as both his business and his social life, with writing as his hobby. He had carved out an existence that worked for him.

The question was, what did I want? College seemed like the best place to start. Tattie claims you can learn more by living life then you'll ever discover sitting in a classroom. But I wanted to sit in classrooms with other kids my age and discuss
the meaning of life and Descartes and Tolstoy. I just had to figure out how to make it happen.

• • •

Two days later I was sleeping in Gloria's combination guest room/office/den with Stella at my feet. Despite my intention to sleep late, my internal alarm clock seemed to be irrevocably programmed to dawn. Maybe it was for the best since Daniel and Matthew bounced out of bed early and created enough mayhem to wake the dead. By eight I was dressed and drinking green tea with Gloria while her boys maneuvered action figures in a galactic battle on the floor beneath us. We weren't really talking about anything in particular when Gloria suddenly cleared her throat and announced, “Ashley, I owe you an apology.”