The Sparrow Sisters (19 page)

“Kids on his level of the spectrum know that they're different, that their behaviors are causing stress to themselves and their parents,” Henry said. “You say Matty is very bright. I'm sure that he senses what's going on.”

Patience agreed. But what she felt from him was more. It
was as if he was letting go, drifting away from her, from everything. Henry and Patience saw the same thing in Matty: he was becoming so transparent and light that he was in danger of being swept away for good. They just had different ideas on how to tether him.

“He has such faith in me,” Patience said. “He really believed I could make him better, and I'm not sure anymore.”

Henry looked at his notes. “I think it's time to bring Matty in, find out what's causing the fatigue and weight loss. I would like to reinstate his treatment with me. I'll speak with Rob Short on Monday.” Henry sounded certain, completely equipped to make good where Patience couldn't: he would make Matty better. Henry pulled Patience toward him on her stool. “I will take care of Matty for you, Patience, I promise.”

P
ATIENCE WAS BOTH
too tired and too invigorated to go home so she ended up in the apartment. The birth had filled her with awe, naturally. And Henry's performance, the calm way he'd gone about the business of bringing forth life, had all but undone her. She'd stood next to Sally and watched the top of Henry's head as he worked. She noticed that he had more gray in the heavy hair that fell over his forehead and felt certain she'd caused it. When he'd stood abruptly and slung the stirrups out of their posts, she jumped. “Grab her legs,” he'd barked. “Those things are medieval.”

Patience shivered and nestled closer to Henry in the bed. She was astonished by how pleasant it was to be happy, how
strangely freeing it was to depend on someone else for something as enormous as that happiness. She decided that she would, as Nettie had suggested weeks ago, keep Henry Carlyle.

The next morning they both woke early. The sun sloped in through the windows and Patience could tell it was going to be hot. She considered taking Henry to the Outermost Beach after she went home to change. Or maybe they could go to see Sally and the baby. She wriggled in anticipation.

Patience was again without her glasses. But Henry had cleverly squirted some saline into a cup for her the night before, and her lenses floated lazily in it on the bedside table. She popped them in as Henry made coffee so that when Sam Parker called, she could see his name on her phone and smiled. When he told her that Matty Short was dead, the phone broke open where she dropped it.

T
he night that Patience and Henry found their way to a plan for Matty, Sam ferried Sally and Katherine to the hospital in Hayward. It had taken well over two hours to get back to the firehouse after the pick-up at Henry's office and the hospital check-in. There was traffic both ways and paperwork of the most annoying sort, particularly because Henry Carlyle had scrawled his notes in an unreadable smear. Then, both Sally's husband, Warren, and Dr. May peppered him with questions he couldn't answer. He'd directed them to call Dr. Carlyle until Sally, who was by now settled in her bed with her baby at her breast, told everyone to just shut up.

“I think Dr. Carlyle is busy this evening,” she said and raised her eyebrows at Sam.

“Oh.” Sam got it. “Yeah, he was with someone when I left.” He was still smiling when he got back in the rig with his partner. Of course, he'd called his wife, Abigail, to tell her about Sally and to suggest that, from what he'd seen, this Dr. Carlyle was the one to call in an emergency.

It was about 5:30
A.M.
when Sam's unit got the call about Matty. Sam was as deep into sleep as you could be at six-foot-four in a bunk bed. Rob Short dialed 911 when he found his son slumped over the kitchen table. He was cold as ice, he told the operator; someone had to come right away. Rob was crying, and he didn't stop until Sam's partner got a sedative into him. Even then, he sat in the kitchen doorway and hiccupped. Police cars and a second ambulance pulled up within minutes, and the room filled with people. Poor Matty stayed where he was on the floor, where Rob had tried to revive him even as he felt the coldness seeping out of Matty and into him. The boy was surrounded now by gloves and stethoscopes and ripped packaging, the braided kitchen rug pushed up against the sink. It was apparent to everyone that he was dead and had been for some time. No one could move him again until the authorities came. Sam felt sick; he turned his head, not because the scene was grotesque, although it was, but because he was sure he felt his heart clawing up his throat. When the coroner arrived, he cleared out everyone but Sam. Dr. Clayton gestured with a gloved hand, and Rob Short was led into the living room
by two policemen who sat with him while Matty's body was loaded onto a gurney. Sam couldn't believe how light he was as he lifted him. When the coroner OK'd the transfer, Sam had nearly thrown the body because he'd been so surprised by its lack of substance. He cradled Matty for a moment before he put him on the open body bag. Maybe it was because Abigail was pregnant or because he'd checked Sally's newborn only hours before, but Dr. Clayton had to say Sam's name twice before he heard him. He had to tell Sam to put the boy down because Sam couldn't seem to uncurl his arms.

Child Services was called, and Sam looked in on Rob Short before he left the house. Two cops and a tired woman questioned a completely incoherent man. Rob had begun crying again, and Sam thought he heard him say “Patience Sparrow” and wondered if the man knew how much she loved Matty. A part of him wanted to tell them to shove off, to let this man who now had nothing and no one just be for a moment. But Sam remembered how often Matty had been left to fend for himself in all sorts of ways. If Patience hadn't taken an interest . . . Sam stopped with one foot in the rig, unused IV bags and tubing still in his hand. He looked at his watch; somehow it was already eight o'clock. His shift was over in thirty minutes. Crap, he should be with Patience; she must be frantic after his call. He made his excuses and sent his partner back with the ambulance while he ran to Ivy House.

Sorrel answered the door; she was dressed but Sam could see Nettie in the hall, still in her nightgown.

“Sam?” Sorrel said. Her face began to pale when she registered his state, his uniform askew, the sweat on his brow.

“Where's Patience?” Sam asked.

“She's with Henry. What's happened?”

“It's Matty.” Sam watched Nettie as she sank against the banister, her hand to her heart.

By the time Sam got to Henry's, Patience had stopped throwing up. For twenty minutes Henry held her hair as she hunched over the toilet, retching until he thought her ribs would crack. She kept apologizing, and he kept telling her he'd seen it all. He'd had to help her to his couch, her knees marked by the bathroom tiles, her face so pale the veins beneath were as clear and blue as thread. She'd cried the whole time, gasping for breath, her forehead pressed against the toilet rim. Now Patience sat in his Yale sweatshirt and scrubs, her legs pulled up to her chin.

Just after Henry led Sam into the apartment, there was another knock at the door. It was the police chief. Nettie had gotten dressed, and she and Sorrel were about to follow Sam in their car when Chief Kelsey arrived at Ivy House. He gave them a ride over to Henry's. It was a crowded apartment by nine o'clock.

Patience curled on the couch. A brutal shiver took her every few moments as Henry knelt at her feet, trying to convince Patience to let him sedate her. Chief Kelsey sat down next to her and shook his head at Henry.

“Patience?” he asked. “Do you think you can talk about Matty for a minute?” His voice was gentle, and he moved to
put his hand on her arm, but she shuddered so hard it was batted away. She nodded.

“Let's start with what you know about the boy.”

At that Patience drew herself up. Henry thought he could hear her spine clicking into a solid rod. Sorrel felt the snap of anger as Patience turned to the chief.

“Shouldn't you be talking to his doctor?” Patience asked.

“We would,” Kelsey said. “But”—he looked at Henry—“he was a Higgins patient. Did Rob bring him in to you, Dr. Carlyle?”

“No,” Henry said. “As a matter of fact, I was planning to see Rob Short on Monday to make a care plan. Matty hadn't been seen by anyone for the last months. His meds must surely have run out.” He clasped Patience's hand. “We both felt that Matty's recent symptoms were troubling.”

“Well, now,” the chief said and looked at Henry and Patience's linked hands. “This is the thing. Rob Short seems to think that Patience and his son were close. He's got an idea that she might know something about . . .” Kelsey trailed off. “His wife died in that kitchen too. You can't blame the man for trying to make sense of it.”

Henry couldn't take it. He stood so quickly that Kelsey's neck cricked as he followed him.

“What Patience knows about this little boy is that his father was incompetent and that he needed a doctor's care, and that's my job.”

Chief Kelsey stood too, and both men leaned toward each
other slightly, unwittingly setting the adversarial tenor that would ultimately poison the town.

E
VERYONE WAS STANDING
except for Patience. Her sisters exchanged frightened looks, and the chief felt the cold as it crept through the room. He stuttered a bit over his next words. “If you think of anything that could help us, Patience . . . ,” he said and walked out with Henry on his heels.

“Patience?” Sam leaned over the couch. “He's gone.”

“Henry?” Patience whispered. All she could think was that Henry had left her, and why not? She couldn't even keep Matty safe long enough for Henry to help him.

Sam moved so he could see Patience's face and when he did, he looked at Nettie in alarm. “Jesus, Nettie,” he said.

“Henry will be right back.” Nettie came to sit by her sister. “Come home,” she said. Nettie didn't recognize this Patience either, and Sorrel was so shaken that she stayed by the door.

“I want to wait for Henry,” Patience said and drew a shuddering breath. “I think I need Henry.”

Henry was still with the chief. He was being questioned in a far less gentle manner.

“What was he doing with the Sparrow girls? Why did Matty hang around the Nursery?” he asked.

“The Sisters were the only ones who didn't treat him like the village idiot.”
Which is a position that's open to you,
Henry thought. “Why are you singling out Patience?” he snapped.

“Because Rob had some crazy talk about Matty and what
he called his ‘good' days and they were all with Patience. The ‘bad' ones were all with him. He claims that Matty was turned against him by the Sisters.” The chief stopped. “He's so jumbled up he thinks Patience hypnotized Matty or something. He didn't get his own kid. It's like he's angry at Patience, jealous of the Sisters.”

“That's just sick,” Henry said and felt a quiver of dread.

Kelsey hung his head. “Rob has nothing left. I don't know what he's going to do now.”

Henry looked at the chief. He could see that the boy's death had affected him. He felt sorry for him, for everyone involved. He suspected that somehow Rob Short would end up being at the center of this tragedy. Of course, had he been at the center of Matty's life, there wouldn't be a tragedy at all. Now a careless father was looking to be absolved, or to lay the blame elsewhere. This made Henry furious.

“If Matty's good days were because of Patience, we should all be grateful and be done,” Henry said.

“Dr. Carlyle, this is far from done.” Chief Kelsey got into his cruiser and pulled out. Henry saw that a few people had drifted down from the bakery to see what was going on. He wondered how much they already knew.

P
ATIENCE HAD HER
eyes closed when Henry came up. She twisted around searching for him as soon as she heard his steps. He sat on the coffee table in front of her. Nettie brought over a cup of ginger tea.

“She always does this,” she said to Henry. He looked at her blankly. “She gets sick when she's really upset.”

Henry nodded. Vaguely he hoped she didn't vomit every time she cried because there was an ocean of tears ahead.

“Patience, Rob Short thinks you might know something about why, or how, I guess, Matty died,” he said. “I have to tell you this now because the police are going to later.”

“What did he die of?” Patience asked. Henry looked up at Sam.

“They don't know, P,” Sam said.

“Was he alone?” she whispered.

“Rob found him. I was first on the scene.” Sam didn't know how much to tell her, but she made the decision for him when she asked. Sam told her how he'd found Matty at the kitchen table, how broken up Rob was. “There was nothing I could do for him,” Sam said. “It was too late; he must have died sometime in the night.”

“At the kitchen table?” Patience's voice rose, and Henry took her shaking knees in his hands. “Where the fuck was Rob?”

“He fell asleep at the store, P.” Sam stood. “I've got to go file my report.” He turned to Henry. “Take care of her, okay?”

It took both Sorrel and Nettie to get Patience off the couch and into Henry's car. They announced that she'd do better at Ivy House, away from the prying eyes of the town. When they walked out the front door onto Baker's Way, Henry tried to shield her from passersby, which only tripped Patience up. Henry caught her as she went to one knee, scooped her into his
arms, and angled her into the backseat with Nettie. Sorrel sat beside him, her back not even touching the seat. He wondered if she was angry with him until she reached a hand out and patted his arm.

“She'll come out of this,” Sorrel whispered. “Patience hasn't fallen apart since Marigold. She just needs to digest it all.”

Henry thought “digest” was an odd word to apply to a woman who had just thrown up hard enough to burst a blood vessel in her right eye. Patience looked so wounded that he had to check himself from running his hands over her, looking for injury. He would have carried her up the stairs to her room had Nettie not stopped him.

“She's home now, Henry. Come back later.”

Henry watched the Sisters climb the wide porch steps. Three heads bowed into each other, arms laced around Patience, feet moving in unison, a closed circle. After her desperate need for him, Patience had simply left him behind. Unexpectedly, he remembered the first time he'd seen them, in church on Easter Sunday. He'd told himself a story as he watched them laugh together. It was not this story.

Ben was waiting for Henry in front of his house. He had two coffees and a bag from Baker's Way Bakers. They walked around to the back porch and sat in silence for a full minute.

“Man, what a mess,” Ben said. “Everybody's talking about Matty, but no one knows anything. I figured Patience might've fallen apart, and you might need this.” He held up the coffee. “What the hell happened?”

Henry told him what he knew. Ben covered his eyes as Henry described the scene of Matty's death; he nodded when Henry said he needed to know how it happened so that he could reassure Patience.

“You should call the coroner,” Ben said. “I mean, you're kind of Matty's doctor, right?” But Henry shook his head.

“I've really got no claim on Matty, certainly not now.” He pounded his fist on his thigh and winced. “If I'd gone to Patience before . . .” He turned to Ben. “I was planning to take Matty on; Patience and I discussed it last night, in fact. We both felt there was something really wrong. Who knows what I might have discovered if I'd examined him?”

“Then you should talk to Sam Parker alone. If he found Matty, he'll have to be involved in the investigation. He'll know stuff we can't.”

Henry got to his feet, ready to go to the firehouse.

“Not now, Henry,” Ben said. “It'll look bad.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone knows Chief Kelsey was here this morning. They just aren't sure why. If you go tearing off to see Sam, there'll be all kinds of talk, more talk. That won't help anyone.”

So Henry stayed home, the hot summer day spooling out before him, a ribbon of pain. Ben, released from the wire in his thumb, could at least go to the beach or work around his boat. Henry felt insulted by such a perfect summer day and sat in a sweaty slump on his porch, wondering what everybody else
was doing, infuriated that no one seemed to need him. He was still confident that any antagonism building around Patience would disperse as quickly as it came up. As soon as she settled, Patience would see that he could guide her safely through her despair, her hand in his.