Phantom of Riverside Park (35 page)

With anybody else
eh
would have been
an affectation, but coming out of the mouth of Joseph Whitcomb it
was a sledge hammer, driving home his point, pounding it straight
into the cranium of his unsuspecting victim.

“That’s not fair.” Helen was inarticulate
with rage and fear. “You can’t just...just make out like somebody
doesn’t have a case, when...when I had
papers
. A
complaint
had been filed. And I investigated.”

Where had Elizabeth heard that type of
intonation before? Suddenly it struck her. Anna Lisa Belliveau.

“Ah, yes. The complaint. Lodged by the
Belliveaus.” Joseph rubbed his chin as if he’d just remembered
something. Elizabeth knew it was an act, but she admired it anyhow.
“By the way, Miss Parkins, where did you say you are from?”

“I didn’t say.”

“It would behoove you to say now.”

“The Mississippi Delta.”

“Whereabouts in the Mississippi Delta?”

“Greenwood.”

“Ah, yes. Greenwood. The De Lareus live down
there. That name ring a bell?”

“That’s my maiden name.” Helen Parkins looked
as if she’d swallowed a piece of rotten fruit and was sorely in
need of relief.

“Let’s see now, that would make you, what?
First cousin to Anna Lisa De Lareu Belliveau?” Helen clamped her
mouth shut and refused to answer, refused to look at anybody or
anything except her ugly brown shoes. “I smell something rotten in
the Delta, and it’s not the fruit left on the ground in the
orchard. Blood’s thicker than justice, eh?”

Elizabeth saw Helen Parkins’ boss blanche. He
looked like the kind of man who would pussyfoot around an issue,
and in fact, he’d watched the entire exchange between Helen Parkins
and Joseph Whitcomb in a detached sort of way, his head swiveling
back and forth between the two sparring, his face set in permanent
perplexity as if they were playing a game he couldn’t quite
understand.

Walter Mitford was his name. Elizabeth
thought it suited him. She’d bet that his friends called him
Mitty.

“Ah, well, ah...Mr. Whitcomb.” Walter
actually raised a timid hand to get the lawyer’s attention. “Could.
. could you excuse us a...a minute.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and
down, and he looked as if he might be going to pass out. “Ah,
Miss...Miss P...Parkins and I have to...to confer.”

“That’s an excellent idea. I was going to
suggest it myself.” Joseph offered his arm. “Mrs. Lassiter, may I
escort you?”

Peter showed Elizabeth and her lawyer into a
sitting room that could have fit right into any of the fancy houses
she cleaned. The Lassiter Building seemed to be full of them. If
she hadn’t been so nervous, she would have taken note of every
single piece of furniture, every knick knack and doo dad. She’d
have asked for a tour of the building. It amazed her how fancy some
folks lived, even at their workplaces.

David had probably hired an interior
decorator to do up his whole building. Everything matched just so.
The only thing that didn’t was an antique radio. She wondered who
had put it there, if it had been David.

She wondered what his farm would be like.
Would it have a barn? Animals? She hoped so, for Papa’s sake. And
Nicky’s.
If
he would be there.

She wouldn’t let herself think that way.
Negative thoughts sent out negative energy and somehow influenced
events to go wrong. She’d read that somewhere, and it made sense to
her.

Restless, Elizabeth moved about the room, and
all of a sudden the sound of music stopped her in her tracks.

“Lean-ing, lean-ing, safe and secure from
all alarms
.”

Peter jumped up and turned the radio off.

“You must have bumped into it,” he said, but
Elizabeth knew she hadn’t.

She remembered the first time she’d ever
heard that song, clear as day. Mae Mae had been in the apple
orchard filling her apron with knotty little red apples and
singing.

“How come you’re singing that song?”
Elizabeth had asked her.

“Because it helps to know I’ve got Somebody I
can always lean on. And you do, too, honey.”

Mae Mae untied her apron and put the bundle
on the ground, then sat down next to it and selected two for them
to eat. Elizabeth took her first crunchy bite, then kicked off her
shoes and sat there with the sweet juice running down her chin.

“Will I always have you to lean on, Mae
Mae?”

“As long as the creeks don’t rise and the
good Lord’s willing.”

Now, with her future in Joseph Whitcomb’s
hands, Elizabeth sank into a chair and closed her eyes, remembering
the comfort of leaning on Mae Mae and wondering if she dared lean
on David.

“Can I get you something to drink,
Elizabeth?” Peter was bending over her, one hand on her shoulder,
concern written all over his face. He was a sweet man, a good man.
You could tell a lot about a person by the kind of friends they
had. Didn’t it speak well of David that he’d chosen Peter Forrest
as his right-hand man?

“No, thank you. I’m too nervous to drink
anything. I’d spill it all over my new dress.”

“You look nice,” Peter said.

“Pshaw! She looks stunning,” Joseph said,
grinning. “Now there’s a great word. I’m in love with the English
language, you know.”

Walter Mitford poked his head around the
doorframe. “Ah, Mr. Whitcomb, could...could you come in here a
minute?” He was a timid Piglet approaching a dangerous heffalump in
the Hundred Acre Wood.

“What could that mean?” Elizabeth asked
Peter.

“Nothing bad, I’m sure of it. Don’t worry.
Everything’s going great.”

Within minutes Joseph was back, all smiles.
“Mrs. Lassiter, you may go and reclaim your child. This treacherous
business is over.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She launched herself
at him, hugging and crying. She probably should have been
embarrassed at her display of unbridled emotion, but she wasn’t. He
didn’t seem to mind. Nor did he seem to mind that she was getting
the front of his shirt wet.

He patted her shoulder the way Papa would
have. “We’ve won the first battle. Now, we march triumphantly to
the next.”

“I’ll go tell David the good news,” Peter
said.

“Can I?” After all, she needed to thank him,
too. If it weren’t for David, none of this would be happening.

“Of course, I forgot. Naturally he’ll want to
hear the news from his wife.”

All of a sudden it struck Elizabeth that she
really was a wife, in the legal sense anyway, and that all the good
things that had happened in the last few days had happened because
of David, this fearsome-looking, demon-ridden, reclusive man who
was now her husband. She felt like a creature who had grown a new
skin and a new, more brilliant set of feathers. Like one of the
large birds she’d seen in the Memphis zoo, she’d molted, and now
she stood outside David’s office door watching her old self drift
away.

The woman who was going to enter his domain
was not the same depressed, anxiety-ridden woman who had seen him
earlier that day. This Elizabeth had her son back. And nobody was
ever going to take him away again. Even if she lost her court case.
Even if she had to run away to Mexico to protect him.

This Elizabeth also had a brand new life.
Maybe it wasn’t the one she’d dreamed about nor planned on, but it
was certainly better than the one she’d had. And she fully intended
to make the best of it.

She tapped lightly on David’s door, and he
said, “Come in.”

She went straight to her husband and put her
arms around him the way she would any good friend or even any
stranger who had done her a great kindness. Never mind that he got
stiff as a wooden Indian and tried to shrink through the back of
his chair.

Elizabeth ignored all that. “Don’t put on
airs,” Mae Mae had told her. Papa had put it another way, “Always
be yourself.”

Whether David liked it or not, the self she
was, was affectionate. And she’d be darned if she’d treat him any
differently just because of the way he looked, or the way he
thought things ought to be.

“Nicky’s coming home,” she told him, and
David said, “That’s wonderful,” even while he was still stiff as a
poker about her hug. She held on anyway because it just naturally
took some people longer to loosen up than others. And because it
felt good. He was a broad-shouldered, solidly muscled man, exactly
right for hugging.

“Yes, it is, and it’s all because of you. I
don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come back, David.
You rescued me. You rescued us all.”

“I’m happy I could do it.”

She had no doubt that he meant every word he
said, but the way he was acting you’d think happiness was pure
torture. Then, the truth hit her: David was scared. He’d been a
virtual prisoner for years, and knew nothing of warm hugs and soft
kisses and sweet shared secrets.

Elizabeth could have cried for him. So many
years wasted. So many dreams lost.
If I can do only one thing
to repay this haunted, tender-hearted man, it will be to unbind him
and set him free.

Could love do that? She believed with all her
heart that it could. She would love him with all her might, love
him as a dear and tender friend, love him for his goodness, his
kindness, his generosity, his humor. And perhaps in time he would
let go his hurt. In time, he might even learn to hug her back.

She gave him one last, tight squeeze then sat
down in the wing chair Peter always used. David looked like a
little boy who had misplaced his bus ticket home.

“They say I can pick up Nicky this afternoon
at five, after all the paper work is done. Papa will be so
excited.”

“How is he doing?”

“Great. You’re going to like him. I can’t
wait for you to meet him...and Nicky.” The truth finally sank in,
and almost overwhelmed Elizabeth. She covered her mouth to keep
from crying out. “I can’t believe I’m finally going to get him
back.”

David brought her a tissue, then hovered over
her still holding the box. Sometimes when a big man doesn’t know
what to do with himself he looks ridiculous, like a pro-basketball
player trying to fit in at a little girl’s tea party. But David
didn’t. He merely looked as if he needed rescuing, and so she
did.

Elizabeth wadded her tissue into her lap,
then reached for his hand.

“We’ll have a celebration dinner this
evening. There’s no telling what all Papa will cook.” She laughed
just thinking about it. In fact, he was probably at home right now
cooking even though she’d told him to rest and try not to get too
excited thinking about what was going on at the Lassiter
Building.

“I’d like you to come,” she said.

He glanced down at their joined hands, then
gently disengaged himself and retreated behind his desk. Now
Elizabeth understood why the desk was as big as a battleship. It
was not only his fortress, but his means of navigating back to a
port of safety.

“I can’t do that, Elizabeth... but thank you
for the invitation.”

“You’re not going to meet my family, are you,
David?”

“No... It’s best this way.”

Her disappointment was sharp. The thing that
surprised her was that she was feeling more disappointed for
herself than for anybody else. Oh, she hadn’t had any grandiose
ideas about moving into David’s house on the farm, but she had
indulged in a small fantasy or two. She’d imagined early morning
breakfasts together, maybe even before Papa and Nicky got up, just
the two them, Elizabeth in a nice pink robe she’d spotted online
and would order with her new credit card, and David in blue jeans
and a rumpled tee shirt. Maybe one he’d worn to bed.

What did he wear to bed? That could tell you
a lot about a person, whether they were as buttoned up at night as
they were in the daytime, for instance. Or if they cast off every
stitch and slept buck naked so that in the dark they were a whole
other human being, somebody unexpected and wild and thrilling.

She felt herself blushing, and David, always
full of quick concern said, “Are you all right?” and she told him
an outright lie. “Certainly.” She wondered if she were going to
turn into that kind of person, the kind of person given to
spur-or-the-moment invention.

“Good, then.” He made a careful steeple of
his fingers. She’d read about people who did that, but she’d never
seen it. It was a sign of a buttoned-up, closed-tight man. “Let me
know when you’re ready to move,” he said, and a gleeful little girl
inside her jumped up and down, and a big balloon over her head said
goody,
like a cartoon.

“I’ll send Peter over to supervise the movers
then escort you down.”

Her balloon burst with a pop that was almost
audible.

“Fine.” She sounded like an ungrateful
wretch. “Thank you, David,” she added, and then because she had the
tenacity of one of those ivy roots she’d seen choking whole trees,
she said, “When will you be coming down?”

Or maybe she said it simply because she was a
woman.

o0o

When will you be coming down
? she
asked, and his gut reaction was
never
. At least not while
she was there. But how could he say that to Elizabeth without
hurting her? How could he say that without softening the sharp
edges with an explanation that would reveal his innermost soul?

His reasons were complex and multiple, but
one stood out above all the rest: she had the power to hurt him. He
knew she wouldn’t do it deliberately. Elizabeth Jennings was not
that kind of woman. She was a sweet woman, kind and gentle to the
bone. And when she moved into the farm, the old house would stand
straighter and taller, the rooms would be warmer, the verandahs
sunnier.

It wasn’t her arrival that would hurt, but
her leave taking.

All of a sudden, David realized he’d made a
Devil’s bargain, and in the end he would lose his soul.