A Sundog Moment Page 14

  It barely moved. He looked at her and saw the fear and wished there was something more he could do. Small doses of steroids could alleviate the pain, but he couldn’t do much to alleviate the fear.

  Chapter Twelve

  Virginia Mae was quivering, her heart hammering, nerves overloading. On one hand, she was finally doing something positive for her daughter. On the other, she felt duplicitous, which was stupid because what she was doing would only help her Elizabeth. It was something that had to be done. And now was the perfect time.

  She knew for a fact her daughter would be gone all morning long to be fitted with that ankle thing, a brace to help her walk. It would take hours.

  So Michael had said.

  Desperate for something to do, Virginia Mae had jumped on the idea while she was talking to her son-in-law. “What on earth is Elizabeth going to do with all the shoes she can’t wear anymore?”

  Michael had responded in a rhetorical way with a suggestion, but Virginia Mae immediately grabbed it: This was something she could do for her poor dear daughter.

  Now it was getting close to the middle of the day, and she was getting very nervous. She kept looking at the time. At first Carol, who had been enlisted to help, was too busy packing up shoes to notice, but the older woman kept fluttering around and glancing at her wristwatch as if she had a nervous tic. Finally, Carol started feeling suspicious; she hoped she was wrong.

  “Aunt Mae.” Carol stood up and arched her stiff back. She waited until their eyes connected. “She knows we’re doing this, right?”

  Caught off guard, redness spread out over the old woman’s face like a guilty stain.

  “Oh, of course, of course; now come on, let’s hurry and get this mess cleaned up.” Virginia Mae’s hands were now shaking so badly the shoes crashed out of the box she was trying to stack on top of several others leaning against a dolly.

  “Oh, damn,” she blurted out. Her hands flew to her face and she apologized profusely. “I’m sorry, Carol, what must you think of me? Please excuse me, it’s just . . . this has been a most trying day, most difficult.” Virginia Mae sat down wearily on the side of the bed, shoulders drooping.

  Carol started to have a very bad feeling. “Why has it been such an awful day?”

  Her aunt answered vaguely. “It just has been, that’s all. Come. Let’s get this over with before poor Elizabeth comes back.”

  Instead of moving, Carol folded her arms across her chest. “Why do we have to get this done before she gets back?”

  “Because we just do, that’s all. Now, don’t just stand there, help me. Please!” Desperation colored the last word so vividly Carol guessed at the reason.

  “She didn’t ask you to do this, did she? Elizabeth doesn’t know anything about this at all.” Carol walked closer to where her aunt stood. “Does she?”

  Virginia Mae passed a weary hand over her face. “No. She doesn’t. But don’t you think she has enough on her plate without having the added burden of getting rid of all this stuff? Don’t you think I know what my daughter wants?”

  Carol’s eyes narrowed. “Did you decide to do this . . . or did Michael suggest it?” She watched as her aunt stood erect, pulling together a haughty appearance that had always intimidated Carol as a child.

  The bluff that didn’t work anymore.

  “I am perfectly capable of thinking and making up my own mind, thank you.” Then all bravado fled as Virginia Mae closed her eyes, shaking her head. When those old blue eyes opened again they were teary. “Would you want to come home to a closet full of shoes you can no longer ever hope to wear? Elizabeth is getting her ankle brace today, Carol. She has to wear only flat shoes that tie or have a sturdy ankle strap. Now tell me, what should I do? Nothing? I can’t. I’m going crazy not being able to do anything for her.” A sob caught in her throat and she turned her face away, struggling for composure.

  Wearily, Carol touched her arm. “Of course you want to help. We all do.” Her mouth tightened, her frustration evident. “I think you should have asked her. I mean, this is all her stuff. You know how particular she is with her clothes and—”

  They both froze as they heard the back door open.

  Carol’s first instinct was to run, but there was no time. Within seconds, Elizabeth was in the doorway.

  Her cousin and mother looked as startled as Elizabeth was at seeing them in her bedroom. Her pale face suddenly became whiter. “Mother? Carol? What are you doing here?” She looked from one to the other and then saw the shoeboxes.

  Elizabeth sat down on the bed, clutching the cane they had given her along with the brace.

  Pulling herself together, Virginia Mae tried to arrange her features in a reasonably happy, yet concerned expression. “My dear,” she said softly, “I know how hard this has been for you, these awful changes. It just breaks my heart! I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out what I could do to help you. I finally decided if I could get these shoes packed and given away so you wouldn’t have to do it, surely that would alleviate some of this stress.” Her hands clasped over her heart, Virginia Mae waited for her daughter’s thanks.

  Feeling like a traitor, Carol spoke hesitantly. “Elizabeth, your mother asked for my help. I thought you knew, that you had approved all this . . .” Carol watched as Elizabeth’s face got paler.

  “Did Michael suggest this?” This was directed at her mother, and when Elizabeth saw those pair of eyes guiltily look away, she had her answer. She suddenly stood up, grabbed the cane, and without another word walked out. The last thing they heard was the violent slam of the door.

  Before Elizabeth started the car, she hit the steering wheel hard; it was the only immediate way to vent this terrible, terrible anger. Rigid self-control kept the speed in check until she got out on the highway leading to the river. Once she turned onto those empty ribbons of asphalt, she set the cruise control; it was the middle of the day, and there was no traffic and no lights for the next forty minutes.

  She was free to let the anger boil over at them, at the situation, at the unfairness of it all. She wanted to scream; she wanted to hit something. Consumed for several miles by venomous thoughts aimed at all of them, but mostly her mother, a sudden quick thought struck her so hard she wanted to cry.

  I can’t use those shoes anymore. None of them.

  They were right. Her mother, unfortunately, was right. All those shoes had to be packed up. Eventually.

  She didn’t have to struggle very hard to regain some righteous anger: Why couldn’t they have waited until she made that decision for herself? Why couldn’t they have waited?

  Better yet, why couldn’t they let her get used to this new place before making her deal with yet another change? Of course. It had been Michael’s idea, with her mother as an accomplice.

  She closed her eyes briefly and forced herself to let it go. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was she would get through this. On her terms.

  She had already crossed over Downings Bridge, which linked the northern peninsula to the rest of the state. It was a place Indians once described as the River of Swans to the north and the Quick Rising River to the south, meaning the Potomac and Rappahannock Rivers. For city dwellers in Richmond and Washington, D.C., it was a favorite place to spend hot Virginia summers. To many Richmonders, having a cottage at the “rivah” was as necessary as sunscreen. She had begun to relax as soon as she crossed over the Rappahannock River into Richmond County.

  It was late afternoon of a horrible day, and Elizabeth had not eaten since morning. While she thought about different places to stop, each near the house she and Michael owned, she also decided she was going to spend the night there. The way she felt now, it would be a whole lot better place to be than home—with him. His arrogance was indefensible.

  She decided to stop and eat at a place called Café Latte. She hoped the owners wouldn’t be there. Although long pants hid the new brace, the cane was not something she could hide.

  She
got out of the car slowly, standing to let the breeze of a mild March day cool her face. She clutched the cane and walked slowly toward the entrance.

  The large white clapboard building had a wide porch with two ramps spanning each side. It was far easier to go up a ramp than to walk around the front and use the steps. Most everyone used them, but that was small consolation for Elizabeth at this moment in time.

  As she got closer to the entrance, she couldn’t help but notice a tall woman using crutches walking up the ramp on the other side. They arrived within several feet of each other.

  “Hey, there.” The woman waited until she caught Elizabeth’s eyes. “Race you?” She cocked a crutch toward the entrance, a smile spilling into laughter.

  Elizabeth’s face was frozen as she looked at the woman laughing at the joke that was on both of them. And it was funny. Elizabeth could feel a smile creeping onto her stiff mouth, but the remnants of the day wouldn’t disappear.

  A man came up next to the woman with the crutches and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Doing all right, Adrienne? Need any help?”

  That gentleness did it. Elizabeth, overloaded with too wide a range of emotions, did the only thing she could possibly do.

  She burst into tears.

  When Michael got home, Virginia Mae and Carol were finishing up the boxing. They had little to say.

  Michael couldn’t say enough. “You let her walk out? You just let her leave?” He couldn’t believe it. “Where did she go?”

  “She was angry, Michael.” Carol’s reply was terse. “How could you do this to her? Why in God’s name do you think you have the authority to decide everything for her? She was devastated, and it’s all your fault.” She practically pushed her accusing finger in his face.

  He was furious with both of them for doing this to his wife. He glanced at Virginia Mae, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. If they had done what they were supposed to do, none of this would be happening. Why couldn’t they get it right?

  With effort he kept his voice even. “I don’t care whose fault it is. What I do care about is where Elizabeth has gone. You’re sure she hasn’t called? Why didn’t you call me? She’s been gone, what, four hours?”

  “Longer.” Carol gave him a nasty smile. “But a person has to be missing for twenty-four hours before the police will do anything like search for them. So what are you, the man who has all the answers, going to do about it? Huh?” She saw his color rise and felt delight that she’d hit a nerve. He was insufferable.

  “I know exactly what I’m going to do,” he said. “I’m throwing you out.” Her arm was enclosed in a steel grip as he propelled her out of the room.

  She stopped cold and glared. “I’ll be glad to get out of here, but you take your hand off me right now!”

  His hand dropped immediately but he opened the front door for her and slammed it shut behind her.

  “Michael?” Virginia Mae’s voice was distraught, her words dangling as if tied by a light thread. He turned toward her, seeing her outlined by the hall light, an old woman with uncertainty slowing her movements. “I thought we were doing the right thing. Didn’t you?” Her voice faltered as her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t know her own daughter anymore. She never expected her to react like this.

  “Do you—do you think she’s all right?” Her hand shot up to stifle a sob, and Michael immediately put his arms around her, trying to dredge up assurances he didn’t feel.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Just because I was having a great day, I shouldn’t have assumed you were, too. I should never have said that to you,” Adrienne Moore apologized again.

  They were seated inside the dining room, waiting for their food. Ian Moore had insisted Elizabeth be their guest. “If only to make up for my wife’s sad sense of humor,” he said, and Adrienne had agreed.

  The tears had dried, but Elizabeth’s face was cloudy. Normally, she would have been terribly embarrassed about falling apart in front of strangers. Yet she wasn’t. The day’s events had scraped her heart raw. She was open and vulnerable and this couple actually understood. She felt an intimacy with them that her own family couldn’t begin to offer. After she had explained what had transpired that morning, she had received staunch sympathy from Adrienne, while Ian gently asked a few questions.

  “Are you angry that they did it for you, or are you angry that they did it without telling you?” Ian buttered the hot, herbed bread that had just been brought to the table.

  Adrienne nodded with approval. “Good question. He used to be a college professor,” she informed Elizabeth brightly, as if that explained it.

  The answer to that question required moments to sort through a tumult of feelings.

  “Both, I think,” she said slowly, warming her cold hands around the hot teacup.

  “And why not?” Adrienne exclaimed. “It was a rotten thing to do all the way around.”

  Ian motioned with his fork. “Adrienne, eat. Let this poor lady examine her own thoughts. She doesn’t need to hear your conclusions.”

  She gave him an irrepressible smile, stuck a big chunk of crab quiche in her mouth, and munched very dramatically.

  Ian nodded at Elizabeth. “I can see the whole thing has been a shock. But from their point of view, they were merely trying to help. Is that how they’ve helped in the past?”

  Her babies! She shivered, new thoughts spilling over like a dam bursting. “He has! He’s taken the control away. How could he think that helps?” She looked at Ian, the question so novel she was still wrapping her mind around it.

  “By ‘he,’ I take it you mean Michael?” He waited for her nod.

  Adrienne started to say something again, and Ian held up a hand. He knew his wife; she would jump headfirst into this stranger’s problems, see only one side, and have it solved to her satisfaction before dessert. But her satisfaction didn’t count. Only Elizabeth’s did.

  “Hasn’t he always done that? You said he has nurtured a successful business, you two have rarely disagreed about anything, that he is upset about your health—certainly he must feel at a loss over what to do. Let me ask you—what would you have him do?”

  Elizabeth stared down at the crumbs on her plate, mildly surprised she had been able to eat. His question was huge and she tried to climb over it, around it, or under it, but finally could only say softly, “I don’t know.”

  “Well,” Ian said, taking the bill that the waitress had laid on the table into his hand. “Think about it. Ponder it. You don’t have to have answers now. Let these questions nest a bit, sleep on them, and see what comes to you tomorrow. Time always seems to help me sort out my thoughts.” He got up to pay the bill and squeezed Adrienne’s shoulder as he left. “Behave.”

  “What does he mean, behave?” Elizabeth wondered.

  “He knows I talk too much and I’ll make up your mind for you.” Adrienne laughed. “Or so he thinks. Tell me about the shoes. Even as tall as I am, I loved wearing heels, the higher the better.”

  “You’re lucky you’re tall,” Elizabeth said. “Even though I’m supposedly of average height, I’ve always had to look up at people or over and . . . I hate feeling short.”

  “That’s how you feel?”

  “How else would I feel?” Elizabeth shrugged, irritated.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Adrienne looked out the window, reflective. “I hate using these crutches, but at least I can. And I know how you feel about the shoes, but when I get weepy-eyed over something, over the things I can no longer do or can’t control, I try to put things in perspective.”

  “Put what in perspective?” Ian sat down and looked at them.

  Her face was full of mischief. “Oh, I was just thinking how we should take Elizabeth to see”—she turned to her new friend—“the woman with no feet.”

  “Elizabeth, where are you? Are you okay?” Michael was hoarse. For the past hour he had been alone, and his imagination had conjured up in vivid detail every frightening possibility that could happen to hi
s wife.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice sounded weary, and his hand clutched the phone even tighter.

  “You sound exhausted. Where are you? I’ll come and get you.” There was that authority back in his voice, full throttle. Elizabeth passed a hand over her eyes, more tired of everything, everyone, and in particular, him.

  “No. Don’t.” Anger put a spark of authority into her own voice. “I’m at the cottage. I’m going to spend the night here. I wanted to let you know where I was.”

  “Elizabeth, you’ve been gone for hours! Why the cottage? Look, they told me you were upset. I’m sorry, I thought this would be helpful; you know that, don’t you?” He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “It’s just that Virginia Mae thought—”

  “She told me it was your idea.” He heard the ice in her voice and sighed.

  “I don’t remember it that way, but it doesn’t matter. We just wanted to help.” He wanted to say more, but Elizabeth wasn’t up to listening.

  “Michael, I don’t want to talk about it now. I’ll be home sometime tomorrow.” She hung up and turned toward the back family room, standing inside the addition they had built five years ago.

  She could see the Potomac River and shivered. Questions were swirling around her with mocking impudence because her heart knew there were no answers.

  She also trembled as she thought of Father Wells. He had said trying to follow God’s heart carried a responsibility. She didn’t want that anymore. Not if it meant all this. What she wanted more than anything was for her life to be the way it used to be.

  She wandered through the house, passing through the memories it sheltered, the laughter, the bright moments that had wrapped her life in a happy bubble.