Crosstalk (44 page)

“Ignore them, whoever it is,” Trent murmured, pulling her back into his arms.

“I can't,” she said. “It might be my family.”

“Shouldn't they be in church?”

“They sometimes stop by on the way home from Mass,” she said, prying his hand off her sleeve. “And they've got a key, remember?”

“Oh, for God's sake,” he said, and let go of her.

“Be there in a sec!” she called cheerfully, tied her robe more tightly around her, and ran over to the door, wondering how exactly C.B. was going to explain his presence.

He'll think of something,
she thought confidently, and opened the door.

“Hi,” Maeve said. “Why aren't you dressed?”

“Do it on the radio.”

—Educating Rita

Saved in the nick of time,
Briddey thought, looking gratefully at Maeve standing there in the doorway with her pink umbrella and heart-covered rain boots.

“You forgot you were supposed to take me to brunch this morning, didn't you, Aunt Briddey?” Maeve said, glaring at Trent. “I told Mom you'd forget.”

“Of course I didn't forget,” Briddey lied, wondering when she'd promised that. It didn't matter. This was a way to get away from Trent.

“I forgot that I promised Mary Clare I'd take her,” she told him, pulling him into the kitchen, “and try to find out what prompted her to run away last night. And I've been thinking, our being apart might help me hear you better. Remember what the nurse said about it keeping us from falling back on other, easier methods of communication?”

“You're right,” Trent said. “And it'll give me a chance to see if I can find another number for Dr. Verrick, too. What restaurant are you taking her to?”

Oh, God, she hadn't even thought about that. She wasn't sure her defenses were sturdy enough yet to protect her in crowded places, and Carnival Pizza was at the mall, which would be jammed. She'd have to try to talk Maeve into somewhere less crowded, if there was such a restaurant on a Sunday morning.

“I'm not sure,” Briddey said. “I'll text you.”

Trent laughed. “Don't you understand, sweetheart? You won't have to. We can communicate directly now. Send me words and feelings like you've been doing, and I'll do the same. And keep a log of all the things you hear me say.” He pecked her on the cheek.

“ 'Bye, honey,” he said to Maeve. “You have a fun time with your auntie.”

He left, and Briddey had to hightail it to her courtyard to make sure he didn't sense the gust of relief she felt at his being gone.

Maeve was looking malevolently at the door. “How old does he think I am? Three? He doesn't have very good communication skills, does he, Aunt Briddey?”

Not yet,
Briddey thought.
And let's hope he doesn't get better ones anytime soon.
“No,” she said, and tried to think of how to address the subject of not going to the mall.

“Mom said you were going to take me to Carnival Pizza, but can we not go there?” Maeve asked. “It's so
childish.
”

You blessed girl.

“There's a restaurant in the park. By the lake. Can we go there instead?”

“The park? But it's raining.”
And freezing,
she added silently, remembering the bus shelter.

“It's almost stopped. And anyway, you can eat inside.”

And it would be deserted in this weather. “Are you sure it will be open?” Briddey asked.

“Yes, because Danika went there one time when it was
pouring,
and it was. They have really good food. And you can feed the ducks.”

Which apparently wasn't childish, but Briddey wasn't going to quibble. The park was much better than the mall, and if Trent somehow managed to get hold of Dr. Verrick, it was the last place he'd look for her. Plus, if Maeve went off to feed the ducks, it would give Briddey a chance to figure out what to do.

C.B. had said it was essential that Trent not find out about their connection, but Briddey wasn't at all sure it was possible to keep it from him. He was already able to hear some of her thoughts, and now, with him starting to pick up her feelings, too, he was bound to sense that she was withholding something and start asking questions. And she didn't know whether a safe room worked for emotions, too.

I need to ask C.B.,
she thought, and wondered if Maeve would agree to their swinging by his lab to see him on their way to the park so she could find out.

“The park it is,” she said. “You go find something to feed the ducks, and I'll get dressed.” As Maeve started for the kitchen, Briddey asked, “Can you wait till I've taken a shower?”

“Sure,” Maeve said. “Do ducks like ice cream?”

“No,” Briddey said, “they like breadcrumbs,” and went into her bedroom. She dug her wet shoes and evening bag out from under the bed, wiped them off with the wet towel, wrapped them up in it, stuck the bundle in the bottom drawer of her dresser, and turned around.

Maeve was standing in the doorway with a mesh bag of onions in one hand and a jar of capers in the other. “Do ducks like either of
these
?” she asked.

“
No.
They like breadcrumbs.”

“You don't have any breadcrumbs.”

“Then bread. They like bread. Or crackers.”

“Okay,” Maeve said, but she didn't budge.

Briddey braced herself for Maeve to ask, “Why are you hiding your shoes?” but she didn't. She said, “You don't have any crackers either.”

“Then cereal,” Briddey said, and Maeve went off to the kitchen, but she was back again immediately.

“You don't have any
good
cereal.”

By which Maeve presumably meant Trix or Cap'n Crunch. Or Lucky Charms.
I'll bet she knows what the marshmallows are,
Briddey thought, and asked her, “Can you name the marshmallows in Lucky Charms?”

“Why are you asking that?” Maeve said, so defensively that Briddey wondered if Mary Clare had put a ban on Lucky Charms as well as Disney movies.

“I just wondered,” Briddey said. “A friend and I were talking about them the other day, and we couldn't remember if there were five or six different marshmallows.”

“Eight,” Maeve said promptly. “Pink hearts, purple horseshoes, green clovers, blue moons, yellow hourglasses—”

That's what the yellow dog-bone thing was,
Briddey thought.
An hourglass.

“—red balloons, orange shooting stars, and rainbow-colored rainbows. But there are lots of ways to find that out. It's on the internet and everything. Do bagels count as bread?”

“Yes,” Briddey said, frowning at the abrupt change of subject.

“Even chocolate chip bagels?”

“Where did you find chocolate chip bagels?”

“I didn't. I just wondered. Are ducks supposed to eat chocolate? Dogs aren't. It's
poison
to them. This one time Danika left her Twix bar on her bed, and Tootsie—that's her dog—ate it, and they had to take him to the vet and everything.”

“Then chocolate's probably bad for ducks, too,” Briddey said. “And sugar. Go get them some Wheat Chex.” She pushed Maeve out of the room and went,
finally,
to take her shower and concoct an excuse for what she'd been doing with the shoes and bag, which, knowing Maeve, she would definitely ask her about.

Though she hadn't said a word about C.B.'s phoning her last night and asking her to cover for them. Why not? She was usually as nosy as Suki.

Maybe she's waiting to interrogate me till we get to the park,
Briddey thought. In which case, she'd better think of a plausible story. Or change the subject, like Maeve just had. And hope Trent hadn't heard her thinking about going to the park.

He apparently hadn't, because as she was shampooing her hair, he asked,
Are you still in the car on your way to brunch?
And a moment later:
Where did you decide to take Maeve?

Carnival Pizza,
she said. He'd never consider eating at a place like that.

I still haven't heard from Dr. Verrick,
he said.
I'm on my way out to Commspan to see if I can get IT to find me his nurse's number.

Which meant that swinging by to talk to C.B. was out. She'd have to think of something else. She finished showering, dried her hair, and put on a warm sweater, jeans, wool socks, and her rain boots. “Did you find something to feed the ducks?” she called to Maeve.

“Yeah,” Maeve said, appearing in the kitchen doorway with the Wheat Chex, a bag of bagels, a box of Special K, a box of Raisin Bran, a package of rice crackers, and an entire loaf of French bread. “I've got some popcorn in the microwave, too. Do you think this'll be enough?”

“Probably,” Briddey said dryly, and as soon as the popcorn was done, they set off for the park.

The rain had
not
let up. There were only a few hardy souls out walking their dogs, and while Maeve had been right about the restaurant being open, her claim that they could eat “inside” was a stretch. It consisted of metal tables on a patio covered with a sagging canopy from which rain dripped.

But there were no other customers, and after seating them at a table next to a heater, the waiter handed them very damp menus, disappeared into the kitchen, and left them alone, except for a gaggle of sparrows hopping frozenly around on the patio looking for crumbs.

Briddey had convinced Maeve to leave the duck provisions in the car till after they ate, but Maeve begged, “Can't I just go get the popcorn? They're starving!”

“So am I. You can after we've ordered,” Briddey said, and looked at the menu. The “really good food” consisted of hot dogs, corn dogs, chili dogs, and a wide array of ice cream treats. Briddey ordered a hot dog and a large hot tea. “In a mug.”
Which I can wrap my frozen hands around.

Maeve ordered a mango raspberry shake with whipped cream and sprinkles, and Briddey wondered again how Mary Clare could be worried about her. She seemed so utterly normal.

“And a hot dog,” Maeve told the waiter. “
Now
can I go get the popcorn, Aunt Briddey?”

Briddey nodded and gave her the keys, and she was off like a shot.
Good,
Briddey thought.
While she's gone I can figure out some way to contact C.B.

Or not. There was no coverage down in his lab, so she couldn't call him there, and she didn't know his home phone number. If he even had one. Or had a home, for that matter. For all she knew, he might simply alternate between the lab, the library, and that kosher deli he'd talked about. Which she didn't know how to find either.

Her phone pinged with a text from Trent. “No luck with nurse. Found number but she wasn't home. Left message for her to call me. Calling hospital next.”

He didn't mention having gotten any messages from her, which might mean he was so busy trying to find Dr. Verrick that he'd forgotten about their connecting. And even when he'd been receiving, he'd only heard fragments, so she might be able to talk to C.B. mentally after all, provided she didn't say his name and did it right now, before Trent found Dr. Verrick.

Her phone pinged again. “Just got mental message from you,” his text said. “Heard you say ‘Call…say his name…right now.' Couldn't hear rest.”

Thank goodness for that, at least,
she thought, and her phone pinged with yet another text: “Also heard something about ‘park.' Thought you were going to Carnival Pizza.”

Oh, no.
She hastily texted him back, “We are. It's jammed. Having terrible time finding place to park. Must have been what you heard,” and turned her phone off.

But I can't turn Trent off,
she thought, so calling to C.B. was out. She'd just have to hope he was aware of the situation and would get in touch with her—and that Trent wouldn't get any better at hearing her. Or succeed in finding Dr. Verrick. Or her.

The waiter was bringing their order. The mango raspberry shake came in a glass the size of a flower vase.

Maeve'll never get through that,
Briddey thought, and turned in her chair to see what was keeping her.

She was trudging back across the grass with her arms full. “I brought the Wheat Chex, too, and the bagels,” she said, “in case sparrows don't like popcorn.”

“I'm pretty sure they like anything. You can feed them after you eat,” Briddey said, but Maeve was already squatting down and holding out a piece of popcorn to a sparrow.