The Widow's Walk (11 page)

Chapter 18

Mike’s hand rested on Liz’s back, and he was vaguely aware of the rise and fall of her breathing–almost as good as feeling her heartbeat. She was still sprawled across his bed and almost looked comfortable though bent in half.

Daylight poked through the window, augmenting the fluorescent glow from the over bed light. The monitor volume was turned down, but wavy green, gold, and red lines traced and flashed unintelligible information about his vital signs.

He tested a deep breath, the pain was almost gone. His stomach growled with hunger, his throat burned from thirst. Thanks to the IV pumping into him, his bladder was ready to burst. He eased onto his side to find the call bell.

Liz woke with a start. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I have to go to the bathroom. Help me up.” He started to swing his legs over the side.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mike. You’re hooked up to an awful lot of things. And who knows if you’re strong enough. Here’s a urinal.” Liz lifted up the plastic container and reached toward Mike.

“Oh, jeez.” Good thing Allison hadn’t been the one to stay last night. As bad as it was having your wife stick your dick into a bottle, having your daughter do it was worse. 

Liz, well-practiced, placed it strategically, leaving him to make the final adjustments. She went to the bathroom herself, giving him enough time and privacy to pee and get the damn thing back out before she returned to empty it for him.

“I’d really like to get in the shower. Do you think they’ll let me?” He bent his knees and pushed back in the bed to test his strength. Seemed okay.

“We’ll find out the plan soon.” Liz filled the basin with warm water and dug a washcloth and towel out of the drawer. “You wash up.” She unsnapped the sleeves on the gown, laying bare his chest, and draped the infernal blue flowered thing over his midsection. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

Liz hefted the overnight bag over one shoulder and limped away, the other hand rubbing her hip. Sleeping pretzel style probably hadn’t been easy on her battered body, but he was sure glad she’d been there with him. The fear, the foreboding, the ghostly presences seemed remote now, but they thrived in darkness, stealing reason and sanity.

A spasm of coughing racked him for the first time in a few hours. His ribs throbbed, and he splinted them by wrapping his arms across his chest. Water sloshed out of the basin on the rickety over bed table.

The shower fizzed, then sputtered. Equipment clanked and voices passed by his room. Lights flashed on in the hallway. The smell of coffee wafted in.

Liz hobbled out, clothes changed, tacking her damp hair up into a knot. “How’re you doing?”

“I don’t feel very clean but I guess that’s the best I can do.”

Liz dumped the basin, then gave him a cup of water to brush his teeth. “I’m going to get you a dry gown and sheets.”

“Rustle up some food out there,” Mike said, a sure sign he was on the mend.

“You must be better.” She ducked into the hall. A nurse came in with Liz and a tablet computer. “Good morning, Mr. Keeny. Cynthia said you had a good night and she’ll see you later. Feel like sitting up while we make the bed?”

“Sure do. Would love a shower, too.” He started to get up, then realized he was naked under a makeshift loincloth.

The nurse laughed. “One step at a time. Mr. Keeny. Mrs. Keeny, why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get something for yourself?”

Liz looked wounded, her eyes darted, the door then to Mike. “I . . . uh . . . I guess I can use the time to call home. Be right back.”

There was no graceful or discrete way to get up when you weren’t wearing underwear. Mike flashed a few choice parts when he slid his legs over the side. His knees buckled once he put weight on them. The two women were all business as they plopped Mike into the chair, just like all the other old geezers. As soon as he was settled, a sullen woman in a brown smock plunked a breakfast tray on his bedside table.

“Hi, Daddy! Wow, you’re up.” The youthful lilt in Allison’s voice and expression was reminiscent of the little girl who’d thrown her arms around him, sworn he was the best daddy in the world, and promised she’d stay with him forever.

Too bad none of it came true. Time had marched on, then taken off on a sprint. They’d grown apart, and things would never be that way again. He wasn’t going to die right now, but he was dying. He might have escaped this time, but no one could evade the reality forever.

“Not hungry?” Allison lifted the cover on the plate and rummaged on the tray for sugar. “Want milk in your tea, or should I go look for lemon? Honey might help soothe the congestion.”

Liz appeared in the doorway holding a tray. “I’ve got tea with lemon and honey. Milk will only make the congestion worse.” Her tone was pure ice, like Allison had offered to buy him illegal drugs.

He sipped tea, not because he really wanted to, but to swallow the anger in the room. What could Allison have done to piss Liz off, unless he’d been so out of it he didn’t notice?

“I got French toast for all of us.” Her tone turned desperate, like breakfast was the magic bullet that would cure him.

Allison’s nose scrunched, which Mike knew meant she was confused as well. “When I dropped Dana at the inn so she could get some work done online, Mae insisted on making us a huge breakfast. The baby got so big since the last time I saw him.”

“Well, then you and I can eat this, Mike. I’ve got to get home to nurse. I wish Eddie could come see his dad.” Liz’s voice softened.

“Sit and eat, Liz.” Allison surrendered the chair moved toward the door. “Maybe you can bring the baby to the lounge later today.”

“I’m still pretty weak. Took two nurses to get me into the chair.” Whatever the hell was going on between his wife and his daughter was taking over his show.

Allison shifted weight from one leg to the other. “I’ll go see if I can find the doctor.” When no one answered, she ducked out.

Liz cut and chewed French toast as if she was eating cardboard.

Mike stared until he got her attention. “Is something wrong?”

She hesitated. “Allison blames me for all of this.”

“Liz, you don’t know the half of what went on between the two of us over the last few years. All the anguish over losing Mary. Then the whole thing over coming out and me not going to the wedding. We still haven’t recovered.”

The floodgate opened. “Even though she’s more capable of handling the medical issues, I needed to be here for you. I should have made you go to the doctor. What would have happened if Kevin wasn’t there to pull you out of the water?” She started to cry.

“You pulled me through last night.” If he shared the memory he had of Jared dying of the same disease, she’d never leave. And if he confessed how hard he’d battled Jared pulling him away from this life, would she understand, given her own self-destructive compulsions?

“Good news.” The well-rested Allison charged in, too upbeat. “The doctor thinks you’ll be able to go home late tomorrow, as long as you have no more fever.”

Liz stood. “Is the doctor still here? I would really like to talk to him.”

“It’s a she. Doctor Shey. Come, I’ll show you where she is.”

“I’m sure I can find her.” Liz pushed away her uneaten breakfast.

“Right out by the nurses station. Stop off and see her on your way out. Take my car back to Brewster.” Allison slipped into the chair Liz had just vacated.

Mike’s stomach lurched. “I think Mae or Kevin should come get you, Liz. Allison, she hasn’t been able to drive with her leg in the brace, and she’s not used to your car.”

Liz’s neck muscles tightened. “I’ll be fine.”

He, Mae, and Kevin had made an agreement not to leave her alone. “I don’t think this is the right time to experiment. “Please Liz. I don’t want to get myself all upset worrying about you.” It was a desperate, and underhanded move, but he had to separate the two of them. And be sure his wife got home safely.

Liz snatched her overnight bag, the glare in her eyes strong enough to cause sunburn. “I’ll call Mae and, while waiting, find the doctor. You’ll let me know when it’s okay to come back, and if I can bring Eddie?”

Allison tried to help. “Come back whenever you’re ready. With the baby. I’ll find a wheelchair and take Dad to the lounge.”

“I’ll call when I’m on the way.” Liz strode out.

Allison shrugged. “Did I do something wrong, Dad?”

“She thinks you’re blaming her for me being sick.”

“Dad, I’m just trying to help.”

“I know, but she’s oversensitive right now. Her son has stirred up a legal tornado that is threatening to wipe her out financially. Then she got hurt. Then this. Her husbands died of lung problems, too.” Mike caught the slip too late.

Allison looked at him sideways.

“I mean her husband. Medicine makes me loopy. Gerry had lung cancer.” Time to get off this subject before it went any further afield.

“Do you need money, Dad? I have plenty I could loan you.”

This needed to end here. “No. We’ll be fine once the house is sold.” He didn’t get into the fight over which one they’d sell. “Liz is working as a substitute teacher, but don’t worry, I won’t be fishing anytime soon.”

“Dad, really. Tell her I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“I know, sweetie. Let it go. Things are too emotional right now.” He jumped when the door opened, fearing Liz might have returned and overheard, but it was the aide carrying an armful of linens.

“Let me get out of the way and go find Liz. And don’t worry, I’ll be careful what I say.”

As the door closed behind his daughter, Mike wished he was strong enough to go with her–to be sure.

Mike relaxed in the parlor reading the paper, doing the crosswords. The coming home hoopla finally died down. Dana and Allison were on their way back to New Hampshire. Eddie was asleep. Jared was behaving. So was Elisabeth.

Liz carried in a glass of milk. “Time for your antibiotic.”

“I’m sick of this already. My stomach cramps as soon as I take it.”

“The doctor said it might do that.”

“I know. I have to finish it or I could have a relapse.” He’d listened to Allison’s admonitions before she left. Now he had to hear it again.

“Okay.” She turned to leave.

He’d hurt her feelings again. “Liz, wait. I’m sorry. I want things to get back to normal.”

“Were they normal before?” She settled onto the loveseat next to him.

“We were doing all right before the ghosts got restless. I don’t think it’s a coincidence I got sick right after I touched Elisabeth. And Jared has been, well, a bit pushy.”

Liz fidgeted in her seat. “Pushy?”

“I have to work at keeping him quiet.”

Liz chewed her lip. “I had no idea that was happening. You never said anything.”

He laughed, though it wasn’t funny. “You can’t just have a conversation about possession with anyone.”

“But you can have it with me. I suppose you’d prefer to sleep in the guest room to stay away from Elisabeth.”

“Actually, I’d like to be sleeping in my old house, but it’s as depressing as a tomb. It needs your touch, to fix it up, make it look as pretty as this one. Then we’ll both enjoy being there.”

She shook her head. “What you’re saying is reasonable, but I’ve put so much into this place, and there is so much history.”

“Much of it bad. Face it, Liz. This place is haunted because very little good went down under this roof.”

She stiffened. “How do you know that?”

“Come on. Jared wondered for the rest of his life what drove Elisabeth to kill herself.” No use burdening her with the knowledge of how, and from what, Jared had died. She was already hovering over him like a police helicopter tailing a suspect.

“It’s old, drafty. Something is always breaking. But it’s beautiful. This is my home, where I was meant to be.” She put her face in her hands.

How could she not see? “Liz, this place is making us both sick, physically and emotionally. You’re hobbling around like a little old lady, and I’ve become a tottering old man.”

Tears tracked down her face. “The warm weather is coming. The inn will be full–we have tons of reservations coming in. We’ll be making money. Mike, please. We’ll sleep in another bedroom. There are five of them after all.”

No way was he leaving Eddie alone in there. “Look, for now, we’ll just stay where we are–together. If Liz and Mike are united, then Jared and Elisabeth aren’t going to be able to get in between us.” He brushed the tears off her cheeks.

She stared at him intently, fear, maybe desperation in her eyes. “We can only talk to each other about this. Others might use any information against us.”

“Who would do that, Liz?’

Her demeanor hardened. She sat up, raised her chin. “My son. Your daughter. Sandra.”

“You’re paranoid. The kids have no inkling about ghosts. All Sandra has are theories. She doesn’t know about your incident–or my illness. And I’m not going to tell her.” Guilt twanged in his gut. Sandra had come up with all the ghostly interpretations on her own, right?

Liz jumped up. “She knows about my injury. Maybe not how it happened, but when Mae went in there to get my things, she figured out it was for me. She reads minds, or manipulates people into blabbing what they know.”

Mike lowered his voice to a whisper. “It doesn’t take much for Mae to spill information. I think you’re giving Sandra too much credit.” Yet, she did ask him about the ghosts as soon as he sat down.