Wonders Never Cease (11 page)

“How many scripts have you
written
?” Kalamar asked.

“How many books have you written?”

“Hold it,” Kemp interrupted. “We all need to write it—together.”

Both men looked at him. “What do you know about writing?”

“Nothing—but I don't want you two ‘frustrated writers' cranking out Shakespeare when you're not the one who has to repeat it. I'm the guy who has to deliver this ‘message,' so I should get a say in what I'm delivering. Besides, it doesn't really matter what the message is.”

“What do you mean?”

“C'mon, look at
Lattes with God
—it's complete nonsense. People who buy this kind of claptrap obviously have no rational capacity anyway. I could say just about anything I want.”

“Like what?” Kalamar asked.

“Anything. I'm saying it doesn't matter.”

“You're wrong, McAvoy—it does matter. This has to be a book, and believe it or not people won't shell out twenty-five bucks just to hear an angel stuttering. Olivia Hayden's name and face might help on the cover, but there still has to be something inside. It's still a book.”

“And a movie,” Biederman said.

The two men turned to him.

“You two haven't thought of that yet? That was the problem with
Lattes
, Kalamar—it had no film potential. A conversation in a coffee shop—who wants to watch that for two hours? A movie needs interesting characters, exotic settings, maybe a car chase or two—if we think ahead we can work all that in. Film rights—that's another cash cow we can take to the butcher.”

The three men all stared across the lobby in silence.

“We need to get going on this right away,” Kemp said.

“All three of us?” Kalamar said. “How do we do that?”

“In Hollywood writers work in teams all the time,” Biederman said. “With three minds working together we should be able to hammer this out in no time. We'll do it the way they do for television—one episode at a time. We'll hole up right here—we'll take a suite across the street at the Century Plaza. We'll eat here, we'll sleep here if we have to. Every day we'll crank out an episode, and every night McAvoy will deliver it.”

“That's good,” Kalamar said. “I'll run back to the office and grab some supplies—paper, a laptop and a printer, stuff like that.”

“I'll reserve the suite and check out room service,” Biederman said. “We'll meet back here in one hour.”

Kemp didn't move.

“Is there a problem, McAvoy?”

“My girlfriend.”

“What about her?”

“I work nights; I sleep days. How do I explain what I'm doing for the next few days?”

“So explain. What's the matter, doesn't she trust you?”

“I'm not sure she'd go along with this. It's a little . . . outside her box.”

“How does she feel about a couple million bucks? That should be ‘inside her box.' Look, tell her whatever you have to. Or don't tell her anything—just show up with some roses and a Maserati in a couple of months. I guarantee she'll get over it.”

Kemp slowly rose to his feet. “You're right,” he said. “Okay, one hour. And bring your halos, fellas—we need to think like an angel.”

12

A
re you all settled in here?” Natalie asked. “Have you got everything you need?”

“I guess so,” Leah grumbled.

Natalie looked around the nurses' break room. “You've got your homework; you can do it on the coffee table right here. I'll put your snack in the refrigerator over there—see it? When your homework is finished you can read or you can watch your Hannah Montana DVD—just keep the volume down because it's a hospital, okay? And when it's time for bed I'll come back and tuck you in. We'll roll out your sleeping bag right here on the sofa.”

“Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”

“Of course you do—it's Wednesday. When I get off work in the morning we'll swing by the house and you can clean up and change your clothes. How's that?”

“Great,” she said. “Now we live in a hospital.”

“We're not moving in, Leah. This is just for a few nights—just until we can find someone to replace Mrs. Rodriguez.” She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Kemp will come by and visit you too.”

“Oh, goodie.”

Natalie walked to the door. “Thanks for being flexible, sweetheart. Remember to keep the noise down in here—people are trying to sleep.”

Natalie quietly shut the door and taped a hand-lettered Please Do Not Disturb sign above the knob.

She walked to the nurses' station and found the charge nurse. “Thanks, Shanice—I really appreciate this.”

“As long as it's only for a few days,” Shanice said.

“Just until I find a new caregiver, I promise. There was nothing else I could do. I can't switch to days—I'd never see her.”

“What about Kemp? He could switch.”

“He—won't. Kemp is . . . well, Kemp is Kemp.”

Shanice nodded. “Say no more.”

Natalie was grateful that Shanice understood, but it bothered her that Kemp's inflexible attitude required so little explanation. Shanice knew Kemp—all the nurses did. They knew that he could be charming and that he was always nice to look at—‘easy on the eyes,' Shanice liked to say. But they also knew that Kemp could be selfish and arrogant and vain. Natalie knew it too—and it was becoming more apparent all the time. She wondered why she didn't see it at first. Maybe she did; maybe she just didn't want to admit it to herself. Maybe she was just especially needy when Kemp came along—but that was more than a year ago. She needed something else from him now, and she was beginning to wonder if what she really needed just wasn't there.

Leah completed her homework in record time. It wasn't that she was hurrying; the material just wasn't difficult for her. Besides, she would rather read her own books than the stupid ones the school provided—boring books that were supposed to introduce her to nouns and verbs she had mastered a long time ago. Leah had been reading since she was four, and she now read at a grade level three years beyond her own. While her classmates were still sounding out basic vocabulary, Leah was craving stories—the more complex and imaginative the better. She opened her backpack and took out a dog-eared copy of
The Magician's Nephew
and began to read.

But she wasn't used to reading in such a quiet environment, and the silence quickly became a distraction. She kept looking up at the door, wondering where her mother was right now, imagining her walking down the hall toward the nurses' room and reaching for the doorknob at that very moment—but the door didn't open.

Leah tossed her book aside and walked to the door. She opened it a crack and looked out. The hallway was empty and she could see the doorways to the patients' rooms lining the opposite wall. Some were open and some were closed. She wondered what was going on in each of those rooms; she wondered which one her mother was in right now. She mentally reviewed her mother's instructions:
Do your homework and
keep the noise down
. She never said Leah had to stay in the nurses' room—what harm would it do to take a look around? If anyone asked she would simply say she was looking for her mother—and just in case she found her mother, she began to construct an excuse.
I couldn't figure out how to work the DVD
player
—that should do it.

She slipped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. She began to slowly work her way down the hallway to her left, hugging the wall as she went, stopping across from each doorway to peer inside. The first patient's room was dimly lit, but through the glass in the door she could see a man lying in bed. A blue curtain concealed most of him; only his legs were visible. She could see his hospital gown that ended just below his knees and his woolly white socks that sagged over at the toes. She could even see the dark curly hair on his legs and it was fascinating to her; it was just like the hairy leg on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. She imagined what the rest of the man might look like—that he might be an actual pirate, with an eye patch over one eye and a green-and-yellow parrot lying on the pillow beside his head. She snickered and covered her mouth.

She moved down to the next room and found the door open just a few inches. This time the figure in the bed was nothing but a lump under the covers, but she could see a man standing at the foot of the bed, waving his hands and talking angrily. Every minute or so he would suddenly stop like a wind-up toy running down—then a few seconds later he would just as suddenly start up again. Leah imagined a nurse inserting a giant metal key into his back and winding him up until his spring was so tight that his head popped off and landed on the bed.

Each of the rooms was different. Some were brightly lit and some were dark except for the flickering blue light from a wall-mounted TV; some were crowded with family members and others were as empty as tombs; some rooms seemed to be happy places—even in a hospital—and some seemed lonely, sad, and still.

When Leah came to the seventh room she was surprised to find the door wide open and the curtain pulled back from the bed. She could plainly see the figure under the covers—an old man with pale skin and his eyes peacefully closed. There was a woman standing beside the bed, standing so close that she could have reached out and stroked the old man's hair. But she wasn't stroking his hair—she was standing perfectly still and holding her hand palm-down just above his head. Leah stared wide-eyed at the woman; a moment later the woman suddenly looked up directly into Leah's eyes. She smiled at Leah, then raised one finger to her lips and went,
Shhh
.

“And who might you be?”

Leah jumped. Standing behind her was an old black man in a gray custodian's uniform. She didn't answer his question; she just pointed at the door.

“You belong in there? You best get back in there then—your folks might be wondering where you disappeared to.”

“An angel,” she whispered.

“How's that?”

“I just saw an angel.”

The old man blinked. “You saw an angel? Whereabouts?”

Leah pointed at the door again and looked; now the door was closed and the curtain was drawn around the bed.

“In there,” she said. “There was an angel standing beside the bed. She was going like this.” She held out her hand palm-down.

“Like that? What for?”

“I don't know. I think maybe it helps.”

“What did this angel look like?”

“It was a woman this time.”

“This time? You're in the habit of seeing angels, then?” Leah frowned. “You don't believe me, do you?”

“'Course I do.”

“You do?”

“We get angels around here all the time.”

“Really?”

“You bet. Doctors like to think they do most of the work around here, but I'm not so sure. I've seen people walk right out of here who were never supposed to, and nobody was more surprised than the doctors. 'Course, they don't say so, 'cause doctors are supposed to know everything.”

“My mom is a nurse here.”

“You don't say! What's her name?”

“Natalie. Natalie Pelton.”

The old man smiled. “I know Natalie Pelton. She's a very nice woman, your mother. And who might you be?”

“Leah.”

“Hello, Leah. I'm Emmet.”

He extended his hand and Leah took it; it was wrinkled but it felt soft, like an old glove.

“My mom's boyfriend works here too.”

“And who would that be?”

“His name is Kemp.”

Emmet nodded once. “Yep—know him too.” “What's that thing?” Leah asked, pointing to the device that Emmet held in front of him—a gleaming chrome machine with a circular bottom.

“This? It's a floor polisher. People walk up and down this hallway all day. They get the thing all scuffed up, and I come in at night and make it shiny again. Want to see how it works?”

“Okay.”

Emmet jiggled the handle but nothing happened. “Seems to be broken. Hold your hand out like that angel did.”

When she did, he flipped the switch and the machine began to softly purr.

“You're making fun,” she said.

Emmet smiled. “Can't think of a better thing to make.”

“Leah! What are you doing out here?”

Leah turned to find her mother standing behind her with her hands on her hips. “I was just talking to—”

“You can't be bothering the people who work here, Leah. This man has important things to do. I'm sorry, Emmet, Leah was supposed to stay in the nurses' break room.”

“You never said I couldn't come out,” Leah grumbled.

“Well, I'm saying it now. Now go back to the nurses' room and stay there until I come to tuck you in. Understand?”