Hallowed Bones (41 page)

"Hello," I said, eager to hear
Hamilton
's voice.

"Ms. Delaney?"

The male caller's voice was somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place it. "Yes?"

"It's Dewayne Dattilo."

"Has something happened to Sweetie Pie?" She had only a few more days in detention.

"The hound is perfectly fine," Dewayne said. "It's... well, the sheriff said I shouldn't call you, but I felt like I had to do it."

"What's wrong?"

"Mrs. Peters is asking to talk to you."

"Connie wants to talk to me?" I sat down on the bed. "Why?"

"She said she'd go into psychiatric treatment if you'd talk to her. Sheriff Peters said no one was to call you, but I just thought if you could really talk her into getting some help, we could put an end to all of this. It's taking a heavy toll on the sheriff."

I closed my eyes. "Where is Coleman?"

"He's at the hospital with her." There was a pause. "He said he'd skin anybody who called you. I was hoping you wouldn't have to tell him it was me."

"Thanks, Dewayne. You did the right thing." The hand holding the phone had begun to sweat.

"Are you coming?"

I straightened my back. "Yes. I'm on the way right now."

After replacing the phone, I tore up the note I'd written Tinkie and wrote a new one, asking her to meet
Hamilton
's plane and explain that I'd gone home to Zinnia. If Tinkie retrieved him from the airport she would still have time to make her doctor's appointment. As I slipped out of my room with my bags, I slid the note under Tinkie's door. I'd call her from the car when I was out of town.

Sure, it was cowardly. So much for her faith in me. Besides, I didn't need Tinkie to tell me what I was leaving behind. I'd have a nice, long drive to think of
Hamilton
and what I was walking away from. In going to Zinnia, I had made my choice. I would never be able to convince Hamilton or myself otherwise.

Did I love Coleman more? I couldn't answer that. But I'd known him longer. He was part of my life. Maybe I didn't have the courage to live a fantasy. Maybe it was just that fantasies should never have a chance to become reality. I didn't have any answers. I only had regret for what couldn't be.

The blinds were
drawn in Connie's room and I stepped into the semi-dusk, giving my eyes time to adjust. Two vases of flowers brightened the otherwise bleak room.

"So you came."

I stepped closer to the bed, trying not to show the shock I felt. Connie was thin, but she had on make-up and her hair had been washed and styled. I'd expected Olivia de Havilland in
The Snake Pit
and I'd gotten Farrah Fawcett in a hospital bed.

"I hear you want to talk." I wanted this conversation over with. I had the distinct feeling I'd been played.

"Does Coleman know you're here?" she asked.

"No. One of the deputies called me."

Her top lip curled. "I knew he wouldn't ask you to get involved in this. He wants to act like you're not to blame for what's happened to us."

It would do no good to deny it. "The deputy said you'd agree to psychiatric treatment if I came to talk to you."

"And you trusted the word of a crazy woman?"

I'd just seen crazy down in
New Orleans
. Connie wasn't even a pale shade of the real thing. "Look, Connie, I walked out on a lot of important things. Are you going to honor your word?"

"I just wanted to see if you'd come. That tells me plenty about how deep you're in this with my husband." Bright spots of anger burned on her cheeks. "That woman in
New Orleans
said that your relationship with my husband wasn't the issue. She said that I had to learn to love and value myself. I figured you paid her to tell me all that happy horseshit."

"I came because Coleman is my friend. You're destroying him, Connie. You know that."

"Yes," she said. "I do. And I don't think it's punishment enough for a lying cheater. And don't hand me any of that karma crap, either."

"Coleman has never cheated on you," I said, even though I knew I was wasting my breath.

"You mean he's never physically committed adultery."

"That's right. You know that, too. You're falsely accusing Coleman."

"Oh, I don't think so. There are all kinds of ways to cheat. Coleman thinks about you all the time. He daydreams the things he'd like to do to you." She raised up on her elbows and I could see the bony points of her shoulders. I'd never really believed that a person could be too thin, but Connie was living proof that it could happen.

"Coleman is married to you. He made a decision to stay with you, if you'd let him. You're pushing him away, Connie, and you're destroying yourself in the bargain."

"As if you cared what happened to me," she said.

"I don't care what happens to you. It would suit me just fine if you evaporated. But Coleman cares about his baby." I looked at her body and wondered how much damage she'd already done to the fetus. Malnutrition could have severe consequences.

"Yes, Coleman cares about the baby. To him, I'm an expendable host." Her eyes narrowed. "I hate this baby."

"Connie, are you going to talk to a psychiatrist?" I kept my voice level, but her potential for self-destruction was scaring me.

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You give me your word that you won't see Coleman."

"You have my word. I haven't been seeing him."

"Liar! I know about the cozy cookout you two had."

She was well informed for a woman who'd barricaded herself in a house. Then again, it was Zinnia. The grapevine was always in full bloom when it came to gossip.

"We had burgers. We talked. There's no harm in what we did."

"I want your word it won't happen again."

The fact that Connie was trying to blackmail me irked me to the max. "You have my word that Coleman and I won't carry on a romantic relationship. That's as good as it gets."

She leaned back in the bed. "That's not good enough." She pressed the call button and a nurse entered the room almost immediately.

"I'm checking out," Connie said. "Bring me whatever papers I need to sign." The nurse hustled out of the room, making a beeline for a telephone, no doubt.

"Good luck, Connie," I said. "I hope you wake up before you destroy everything you claim you care about." I stepped out of the room and into Coleman's arms.

He pulled me against his chest and held me so tightly I almost couldn't breathe. "I didn't want you involved in this," he said into my hair.

I didn't answer. The feel of his arms was too safe, too necessary. I simply closed my eyes and let myself have him for a few seconds.

There was the sound of a clearing throat and I opened my eyes to see Doc Sawyer standing beside us. Coleman and I stepped apart.

"What are you going to do?" Doc asked. He studiously avoided meeting my gaze.

"Bring me the papers. I'll have her institutionalized," Coleman said.

"Coleman," I touched his arm. "She isn't crazy."

"I don't care to put a label on what she is, Sarah Booth. All I know is that she's endangering herself and my baby. I can't let it go on. If they have to put her in a straitjacket and force-feed her, then that's how it's going to be. Once the baby is born, she can kill herself, if that's her choice."

Doc sighed. "I'll get the papers," he said, "but you realize this is only temporary. She can fight this if she chooses."

"Doc, do you think this is the right thing to do?" I asked.

He looked from Coleman back to me. "I don't have a clue what's right or fair in this world, Sarah Booth. I do know that Connie's a danger to herself and her baby. Does she have that right? Maybe. Maybe not. I do know this has to end. I'll get the paperwork." He walked down the hospital corridor, his shoes soundless.

Coleman and I were left facing each other. All I wanted was to walk back into his arms, to have him hold me. But I couldn't. There was something in his eyes that warned me to keep my distance. I was about to be hurt.

"I'm taking Connie to a private clinic in
Arizona
. I think it would be best to get her away from here completely. I'm stepping down as sheriff so I can spend the next five months with her, until the baby comes."

"And after that?" I asked, my chest hurting so badly I could hardly breathe.

"I don't know."

I nodded.

He touched my cheek, then turned and followed Doc down the corridor.

36

A COLD FRONT WAS MOVING IN OUT OF
LOUISIANA
, AND I SAT ON the front porch steps with Sweetie Pie between my feet and a tall Jack at my side. I'd gotten my dog out of hock after a personal visit to Mrs. Hedgepeth. After our brief conversation, she'd decided that maybe it wasn't Sweetie Pie who'd bitten her.

Now I leaned forward and stroked Sweetie's long, silky ears. The bitter wind scattered the leaves on the sycamore trees and traced icy fingers down my face and neck. I liked the cold. It numbed me.

Coleman was gone. Gordon Walters had taken over the sheriff's office on an appointed basis. The county was ablaze with gossip.

A lot of folks were talking
about
me, but neither Tinkie nor Cece were speaking
to
me. My last conversation with Tinkie had been when she'd called me from the
New Orleans
airport to tell me about the look on
Hamilton
's face when I'd failed to meet him. Since then, both Tinkie and Cece had studiously ignored me. I'd heard rumors, via Millie, that something big was in the works with Cece. But I'd spent the last three days basically alone. Except for my most reliable friend, Jack Daniel's.

"You know what followed the days of the flapper, don't you?"

I looked over my shoulder to see Jitty dressed in shapeless, somber, knee-length black. A cloche hat was pulled tight on her head, shadowing her eyes.

"Let's see, after the flapper came the Great Depression," I said without enthusiasm.

"That's right, Sarah Booth. I'd say that's exactly where you are."

She was right. Yeah! All of my friends and my ghost were right and I was wrong. I'd lost on all fronts.
Hamilton
had never even left the
New Orleans
airport when I didn't show up. He'd booked a flight for
Paris
and flew out two hours later.

I'd tried six times to call him, but he wasn't taking my calls. I didn't blame him. In fact, I admired him. He made a decision and stuck with it, unlike me.

Jitty took a seat beside me. "You can get him back, you know."

"Which one?"

She shook her head. "That's the problem, Sarah Booth. That's why you're sittin' here all alone. You hadn't really made up your mind. That's the worst insult you can hand a person."

"Let me ask you something, Jitty. What would you have done if I'd gone to
Paris
and married
Hamilton
?"

She gazed out at the beautiful white trunks of the sycamores. "I don't know," she said. "I've spent my entire existence here at Dahlia House. This is home to me."

"And to me, too," I said. "
Paris
was a dream, a fantasy. This is real. This house, the people around me. My dog and my horse."

"Sarah Booth, you know as well as I do that you can build a reality wherever you go."

She spoke with kindness, and I smiled at her. "
New York
was a dream. I had a fantasy of working on Broadway. The reality was something very different."

"You can build whatever reality you want, anywhere you choose," she said. "Never doubt that. You just have to have faith."

Faith. It was a word that had begun to constantly recur in my life. I thought of Doreen. All charges against her had been dropped. Adam Crenshaw, alias Michael Anderson, was in jail on one count of murder, and the police were investigating the deaths of Joshua Crenshaw and Lillith Lucas.

"How do you tell the difference between illusion and delusion, between faith and fantasy?" I asked. Certainly the line had blurred for Adam. Blurred so badly that he'd killed his own children and his mother.

"That's a tricky one, Sarah Booth." She leaned over to whisper in my ear. "You shouldn't ask an illusion such things."

"I need a better answer than that."

"You don't need me to tell you," she said. "You already know."

"Cop-out," I accused.

"You have to trust yourself to know the difference." Jitty started to shimmer, a sure sign that she was making one of her famous getaways.

"Don't go! Which was the illusion, Hamilton or Coleman?"