Boy Who Shoots Crows (9781101552797) (34 page)

“You thought it was Jesse,” he said.

“At first I did.” She looked away then, stepped up to the bed, picked up the pillow, turned it over, and laid it back down. Then stood there looking down at it, unable to meet his gaze.

He told her, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. I understand exactly how you must have felt.”

She looked up at him then, saw that he was smiling. She smiled in return.

“After the accident with Patrice and Chelsea,” he said, “I can't tell you how many times I thought I saw them in a crowd somewhere. How many times I went chasing after some woman with a baby in her arms. It was totally irrational of me,” he told her. “But totally natural too.”

She nodded.

He said, “Anyway, I'll go hang out in the lounge for a few minutes.”

She said, “I should probably step out of the way too. Let them bring her in and get her settled first.”

“There's a coffee machine in the lounge, if you're interested. My treat.”

“You keep it up,” she said as she crossed toward him, “you're going to end up in here too. You people and your caffeine all the time.”

“You want me to drink water this early in the morning?”

“Don't ask me,” she said. “Ask your kidneys.”

B
Y the time they returned to Charlotte's room, a half hour had passed. She was dressed now in a hospital gown and had a glucose drip feeding into her left arm. Livvie appeared first in the doorway, and then close beside her, Marcus Gatesman. Each held a bottle of water from the vending machine. Livvie looked in at Charlotte and smiled, then said to Gatesman, “I'm going to step into the ladies' room. You go ahead and say hello.”

Gatesman walked in smiling. “I never took you for a pagan,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I had just gotten onto I-81 when it came over the scanner. Beautiful woman, facedown in the grass. That's part of your morning ritual, I take it?”

The word
beautiful
did not escape her attention. How long since any man had referred to her as beautiful? She felt a flush of heat in her face. “Only when there are no virgins to sacrifice,” she said.

“Which must be most of the time these days.”

“They're getting harder and harder to find,” she said.

He stood beside the bed, smiled down at her.
So calm,
she thought.
So still.
She envied his stillness and wondered how he had managed it. Could he teach it to her?

“So from what I hear,” he said, “you've not been taking very good care of yourself.”

“Is that what you hear?”

“It's all over the hospital.”

“Vicious rumors,” she said, “nothing more.”

He stood there smiling. She nodded at the bottle of water in his hand. “So what is this, some kind of conspiracy? I saw Livvie had one too.”

“Apparently she's the only one between the three of us who has any sense.”

He seemed a different man now than the one who had stood at her porch steps like an awkward teenage boy. The one who, when she had broken into sobs, had been so tentative and uncertain. She could tell from his smile that he knew nothing of her morning but what Livvie had told him, and that Livvie knew nothing but what she had seen. No one had been able to see into her heart and her mind. Her thoughts and her fears were still hers alone, and the latter were somewhat abated now, as if the flood of panic had washed away the debris, leaving behind only a small, still pool of fear. In this relative tranquility she allowed herself to see Gatesman not as an enemy in waiting but as the opposite.

“Where were you headed on 81?” she asked.

“Harrisburg,” he said.

“Ah, yes. Harrisburg.”

“My meeting's not till one, though. I'll still make it. I only left so early because there's this place I was going to stop for lunch.”

“The sushi place?”

“Naw, I'm saving the sushi for later.”

“I'm envious,” she said.

He smiled and said nothing for a while, and she could see him thinking. And she told herself,
Maybe it's the glucose, I don't know. But maybe I could. I mean, why shouldn't I if he asks?

She looked at him and felt his calmness, felt that slow, deep stillness that he had somehow achieved. She wondered what it would be like to have such a man lay his hands on her. She could not imagine that he would be in a rush, no matter how long it had been for him. In fact because it had been so long, he would take his time and savor every minute, she was sure of it. She imagined that he would put his hands to her face first, he would lean close but not yet try to kiss her. First he would lean close enough to smell her hair, allow his cheek to graze hers. One hand would slide from her cheek to her neck, and then very slowly, that hand would come down over her breasts, and probably he would turn now and kiss her neck, and stand in just that position, his mouth motionless against her skin, as his other hand made its way over her shoulder and so slowly down her back . . .

It was then, Livvie returned to the room. She said, “You're getting your color back. That's good to see.”

She stood at the foot of the bed.

Gatesman looked at her and smiled. To Charlotte, he said, “Would you believe that she's never tasted sushi?”

Charlotte looked from Gatesman to Livvie. She said, “You should take her to Harrisburg with you.”

A few moments passed. Then he said, “That's been discussed already. Motion vetoed.”

Charlotte turned her gaze to Livvie. “Why wouldn't you go?”

“I plan to stay here and keep you company. Make sure you do what the doctor says.”

Charlotte saw a sheepishness in Gatesman's smile now, and she thought it distasteful. She told Livvie, “I appreciate your concern for me, I really do. But to be honest I'd prefer to be alone for a while. As alone as a person can be in a place like this.”

“Oh,” Livvie said. She lifted a hand off the foot rail. “Okay.”

Charlotte looked up at Gatesman. “Is there a museum or a mall or something near where you're having your meeting? Some place she can hang out and be comfortable?”

“Dozens of places,” he said.

“Then you'd better get going. Don't let her tell you no.”

Now Charlotte looked to Livvie. “Did you drive the Jeep here?”

“Yes,” Livvie said.

“Leave me the keys, okay? I doubt very much I'm going to spend the night here. I'll see you when you get back.”

Gatesman said, “We'll bring you some sushi.”

She reached for the TV remote beside her pillow, aimed it at the TV mounted on a shelf near the ceiling, depressed the power button. “Have fun,” she said.

O
NE glucose bag emptied, another attached.

You fraud,
Charlotte told herself.
You despicable fraud.

In the afternoon, a nurse drew blood. An hour later she returned with another bag of glucose. “We're getting there,” she said.

“Where is ‘there'?” Charlotte asked.

“Where everything looks good again.”

“Trust me,” Charlotte told her, “we're not even close.”

A
T half past six, with the light in the window turning gray, Charlotte could lie still no longer. She climbed out of bed and found her clothing in the little cabinet, took it into the bathroom and changed. Ten minutes later she appeared at the nurse's station. “Do you have something for me to sign?” she said. “I'm going home.”

“You can't go home until the doctor releases you,” the nurse said.

“Good night,” Charlotte said, and turned toward the elevator.

S
HE was in her bed but awake when the headlights filled her window. She heard the slow crunch of gravel, then heard it stop, heard the engine fall silent.
There should be two car doors,
she told herself.
He'll at least walk her to the door.

One door closed, a soft thud, followed by another. She looked at the clock on the nightstand. 10:19.
Long dinner,
she thought.

Two voices whispering in the foyer. First hers, then his. Her footsteps light and graceful on the steps. Charlotte's bedroom door squeaked open. “We're home,” Livvie whispered. “Are you awake?”

Charlotte said nothing. She stared at the darkness that now filled the window.

“Good night,” Livvie whispered, and eased the door shut.

Voices in the kitchen. Murmurs, soft laughter.

Charlotte told herself it did not matter. She told herself she was happy for Livvie, happy for Gatesman.

She told herself,
You reap what you sow.