Mulberry Park (18 page)

She thanked him.

The stranger, his blue eyes bright and compelling, nodded toward the ambulance. “Now go.”

Claire nodded, shrugging off the thought that his breezy, whisper-soft voice sounded familiar, and focused on the injured child.

Just as she had the day Erik had been struck by Russell Meredith’s SUV, she moved as though she was on autopilot, climbing into the ambulance and buckling up for the race to Pacifica General.

As the sirens roared and the red lights flashed, she watched the paramedics work on the boy. Rico began an IV in each of Trevor’s arms.

Where was Katie?
She
was the one who should be here with him, the one worried about his well-being.

Claire reached into her purse with stiff and trembling fingers and withdrew the telephone number Trevor had given her. Then she opened her cell and dialed.

One ring. Two. Three…

A click sounded, followed by the canned voice of an answering machine. “Hello, you’ve reached Katie and Trevor. We’re not able to get to the phone right now, but please leave your number.”

Claire responded to the prompt. “Katie, you don’t know me. My name is Claire and I have some very bad news. Trevor had an accident and is being transported to the hospital by ambulance.”

With the siren blaring in the background, that last piece of information probably wasn’t necessary.

“I’m not sure when you’ll get this message,” Claire added, “but you can reach me on my cell.” She recited the number. “I’ll be waiting with Trevor until you arrive at the ER.”

“No answer?” the blond paramedic asked.

Claire shook her head. And there was no telling when Katie would get the message—especially if she was out partying with her friends again.

The blonde radioed the base hospital and recited Trevor’s vitals. Claire wasn’t an expert, but his condition hadn’t seemed to change since they were taken at the scene. “The patient is unconscious and appears to have a skull fracture. We’d like permission to take him to Pacifica General. Our ETA is six minutes.”

In the meantime, now desperate enough for a miracle, Claire began to pray silently.

“
Please
let him live,” she pleaded. “Don’t you have enough kids in Heaven?”

As Walter drew near Pacifica General, he heard an approaching siren and let up on the accelerator. As the ominous sound grew louder, he glanced in the rearview mirror, spotting the flashing red lights of an ambulance racing to the ER. He pulled to the right and allowed the emergency vehicle to pass.

Poor soul, he thought, as the ambulance turned into the hospital entrance.

Walter eased his pickup back into the street and followed the same path until he reached the Y bit of the driveway, where he veered to the right toward visitors’ parking.

There was a time when coming to the hospital had unnerved him, but not so much anymore. Besides, he was eager to check on Maria and the baby.

That same crooked grin, the one that had begun the moment he’d laid eyes on the four-pound, two-ounce newborn, was tweaking his lips again, and another surge of pride washed over him.

Imagine that. There was a new kid in the world, a boy who would soon be walking and talking and throwing a ball.

Earlier today, he’d stood at the window and watched Walter Carl snoozing in his little bed in the NICU nursery. The precious sight had been awe-inspiring—and a little scary, too. But he and Maria had been assured the little guy was doing as well as could be expected.

It had been after two o’clock this afternoon when he’d finally left the maternity ward. He must have been a sight, too, with his feet dancing on clouds and his tail dragging the ground. In his daze and his obsession with the miracle he’d just witnessed, he’d forgotten to stop by and see Hilda on his way out, so he would visit her first tonight.

She probably wondered what had happened to him, and he couldn’t wait to share the news with her. If she was up for a wheelchair ride, he’d take her to the fourth floor to see the new baby.

As he neared the lighted entry, he glanced at his wristwatch. Whoops. Nearly nine. He hoped no one threw him out before he got a chance to at least talk to Hilda.

He entered the lobby, tipping his head at the lady wearing a pink smock, then made his way to Hilda’s room, only to find her alone and crying.

“Hey, there.” He slowly eased toward her bed. “What’s the matter?”

She swiped at her tears with the back of her hands. “Nothing.”

Walter wasn’t what you’d call an expert on women, but when one was crying and said it was for “no reason,” he knew better than to believe her. “Is there something I can do to help?”

She shook her head, then reached for a tissue from the small box near her bed. “No. I’m afraid nothing can be done.”

“Suppose you tell me about it anyway.”

She dabbed at her eyes and sniffled. “The doctor said I can’t go back to work for a couple of weeks.”

“And you’re crying because you’ll miss Analisa?”

“Yes, but it’s more than that. I’ll get some disability payments, but they’ll take a while to kick in and…” The flow of tears began anew, and when she’d gotten control, she dropped her hands into her lap and tore at the damp and wadded tissue.

Walter took a seat next to her bed. He lifted his hand to place it on hers, then drew it back, afraid she’d think he was too forward. “Why don’t you try me, Hilda? Sharing the load is what friends are for.”

She sniffled again. “It’s just that I…” She turned to him, her red-rimmed eyes searching his. “I’ve lost so much already, and while I’m not thrilled with the apartment in which I live, it’s the only home I have. I just hate the thought of moving again.”

He wasn’t sure what to say, what to offer. “I have a pickup, so I can help with that.”

“Thanks, but it’s not just moving boxes and furniture.” She took a deep but wobbly breath, then let it out slowly. “I used to have a house, the single side of a duplex my late husband and I bought back in the sixties. It’s where we lived when we were first married. And then about ten years later, when the other side became available, Frank insisted we buy it, even though it was a financial stretch for us. ‘It’ll be a good investment,’ he’d said. ‘Something to provide extra income in our old age.’”

It seemed like a fine plan to Walter, and he wondered what had happened, how she’d lost it.

Always one to clam up about his own problems, he hated to push for more information. So he figured he’d just keep quiet, much the same way Carl used to do when Walter had rambled on about Margie’s death and the grief that had led a brokenhearted widower to drink himself into a stupor more nights than not.

Hilda cleared her throat. “Last year I lost the duplex plus the bulk of my savings, so I had to move into an apartment. I also had to come out of retirement. Thank goodness Mr. Dawson didn’t hold my age against me and hired me to care for Analisa.”

In spite of his intent to keep still and let her share as much or as little as she felt comfortable with, Walter asked, “How’d you lose the house and your savings?”

The floodgates opened again, and she bit down on her bottom lip before meeting his gaze. “I feel so foolish. I swore I’d never tell
anyone
about it. But keeping it in is eating me something fierce. And…” She sniffled.

Walter reached for another tissue and handed it to her, wishing there was more he could do. “I’m not one to repeat tales or sit in judgment when a good friend makes a mistake.”

“A
good
friend?” she asked, a hint of a smile stealing her frown.

“Well,
I
thought we were.”

She reached over and stroked his arm, letting her hand linger. “I suppose there isn’t anyone else in this world who’s been a better friend to me in the past few days.”

Another sense of pride spread through him, the fourth or fifth such rush in the past twenty-four hours.

“But Walter, I swear, you can’t tell anyone.”

Rather than move his right arm, which bore the warmth and comfort of her touch, Walter used his left index finger to trace a cross over his chest. “I give you my word, which is about all I have left these days.”

Hilda looked toward the door, saw that they were alone. “After Frank died, my friend, Barbara Mason, and I made a pact to look out for each other as we grew older. I’d spent most of my life taking care of other people’s children and had never remarried or created any kind of family of my own. Barbara was estranged from her relatives…” Hilda glanced at Walter and slowly removed her hand. “And for good reason, too.”

He arched a brow, but she didn’t continue about her friend’s problems.

“Anyway, since we were both alone, we thought we could face anything together. But three years ago last spring, Barbara passed away unexpectedly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Walter, missing the warmth of Hilda’s touch, rested a hand on his own forearm.

“It’s been tough.”

“I know. I lost my best friend, too, and I’m still struggling with it.”

“Grief is a terrible thing.” Hilda fiddled with the tissue she held in her right fist. “I probably don’t have to tell you how lonely I was. Nor that I was feeling sorry for myself. Maybe that’s why I lost my senses when I met Melvin Burrows and allowed greed to lead me astray.”

“Who’s he?”

“Melvin was a handsome and charming man I met one day while playing cards at the senior center. He was younger than me by about ten years, which bothered me at first, but…well, like I said, I was so lonely. And he was so nice. He would take me out to dinner wherever they had those crazy karaoke machines. Then, after ordering a bottle of expensive wine for us to share, he’d get up and sing some of the old hits, dazzling me with his Barry Manilow impressions. I’d never been courted like that.”

“You were lonely. And I can see why you’d like to be wined and dined and sung to.” Walter figured Melvin had a real gift of gab, and while he wanted to dislike the man intensely, he felt a stab of jealousy, too. There was no way he’d ever sing to a woman, even in private, let alone with a microphone in front of a crowd of strangers.

So he’d never be able to compete with a charmer. He hoped that’s not what it took to turn Hilda’s head.

“Before long, Melvin came to me and told me about an opportunity he had to invest in a real estate project that was sure to quadruple in less than six months, but he was a little short of cash and offered me a chance to buy in as his partner.”

Aw, man. Walter had an idea what was coming…And if he was right, he’d like to get a hold of that dadburn cheat and let him have it.

“It was supposed to be a sure thing, so I took a mortgage out on the duplex.”

“And Burrows never came through,” Walter muttered.

“I should have been happy with what I had, not trying to make more. And now look at me. What’ll I do if I lose my job, Walter?” Her tears began all over again. “I won’t be able to pay my rent, and then where will I go? To a state-funded nursing home?”

“Not so fast. Whatever happened to Burrows?”

“Melvin felt so bad about things going to pot that he quit calling me. And then he moved away.”

“A real man wouldn’t have left you in a lurch like that, Hilda.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I had been responsible for a woman losing her home and her savings, even if I weren’t sweet on her, I would have felt obligated to do something about it.”

“But Melvin lost his money, too.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“He told me he did…” She furrowed her brow. “I suppose, deep inside, I suspected that might not be the case.”

“You very well may have been the victim of a scam, honey.” The endearment had slipped out, although she didn’t seem to notice, and he was glad she hadn’t. “You need to talk to the police, Hilda. There’s a possibility you could get your money back. Or at least be entitled to some sort of restitution from that swindler.”

“You think that’s possible?”

“Sure.” Walter reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. “And if you’d like, I’ll help you file the complaint.”

“Aw, Walter.” She blessed him with a smile. “You’re a good man.”

The way her eyes lit up made him almost believe her. But he shrugged off the compliment, afraid to put too much stock in it until he saw that glimmer of admiration a few more times.

“Hey,” he said, changing the subject. “Maria from the park had her baby this morning.”

“She did? It came a little early, didn’t it?”

“Five-and-a-half weeks. What do you think about me getting a wheelchair and taking you for a little spin?”

“Where to?”

“First to say hello to Maria, then to see the most beautiful little boy in the whole world.”

“You’ve seen him?”

Walter grinned. “Actually? I watched him come into the world.”

Hilda arched a skeptical brow, and Walter beamed as he got to his feet. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way to the maternity floor.”

She glanced at the clock on the wall. “As much as I’d like that, it’s almost nine o’clock. Visiting hours are nearly over, and they’ll be shooing you out soon.”

“All right. I’ll come back early in the morning and take you to see them.”

She laughed, and his chest filled with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. Life seemed to be falling nicely into place, which could almost restore a man’s faith and make him believe that all was right in the world.

A siren sounded in the distance, and Walter glanced out Hilda’s window, only to see the flashing lights of another ambulance bringing someone else to the hospital.

Well, maybe life wasn’t going so well for
everyone
.

T
revor had suffered a seizure while inside the ambulance, and Claire had known without being told that his injury was life-threatening.

When they’d arrived at Pacifica General, she followed the paramedics as they pushed the gurney through the ER and handed Trevor over to the doctors and nurses who quickly took charge.

“Are you his mother?” a red-haired ER nurse asked.

Claire didn’t respond right away. She was too caught up watching a doctor intubate Trevor to secure his airway. They’d done that to Erik, too, and it was an instant replay she’d never wanted to see repeated.

“Excuse me,” the nurse said. “Are
you
the boy’s mother?”

Claire shook off the staggering memories and turned her attention to the woman speaking. “No, I’m not his mother. He has a guardian, but I haven’t been able to reach her. What’ll happen if she doesn’t show up?”

“The trauma team will do everything necessary to save his life.”

“Even surgery?” Erik, who’d also suffered a head injury, had been handed over to a neurosurgeon almost immediately upon his arrival at this same hospital. And Claire and Sam had been asked to sign consent forms.

“Yes.” The nurse had placed a hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Are you all right? You look a little pale. Would you like to wait somewhere else? Or perhaps go home?”

“I can’t leave him. But maybe I should sit in the waiting room.” Claire snagged the woman’s gaze, hoping to pin down a promise. “Will you let me know as soon as he regains consciousness?”

“Yes, we will.” The nurse showed her to the door that led back to where a hodgepodge of people seeking emergency treatment waited.

Claire then took a seat next to a young man with his hand wrapped in a bloody towel. To her left, a woman held a lethargic toddler.

It seemed like just moments ago when she’d been on her way to Sam’s house for…Oh, no.
Sam
. She reached for her cell and dialed his number, letting him know where she was and what had happened. “I’m sorry. Trevor doesn’t have anyone else, so I need to stay.”

“I understand. Is there something I can do?”

“Just keep a close eye on Analisa and don’t ever let her have a skateboard. And if you do decide to buy her one anyway, make sure she always wears a helmet. But other than that? No, there’s nothing you can do.”

They agreed to talk again in the morning, and Claire said good-bye. Next she tried to call Katie again, only to hear the same we-can’t-come-to-the-phone recording. It seemed useless to do so, but she left a second message.

A matronly woman wearing pale blue hospital scrubs and an ID badge approached. “Mrs. Harper?”

Claire stood, hoping for news that Trevor had made a turn for the better, that he was conscious and needing someone at his bedside.

“Since we’ve been unable to contact Trevor’s guardian, we’ve notified the police. They’re sending an officer to the apartment building. Sometimes neighbors can provide more information.”

Claire nodded, wishing she herself could do more. “How’s he doing?”

“They’ve taken him to surgery. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”

Claire’s stomach clenched and twisted into a fist-size knot. For a moment, she feared she would be sick and thought about making a mad dash to the restroom.

As the woman in scrubs—a nurse?—walked away, Claire sat back down, helpless to do anything but wait.

On a whim, she unsnapped her purse and pulled out her cell to make sure it was still working. Sure enough, the phone was on, the battery charged, the ringer on high. She went so far as to check whether she’d missed a call, but she hadn’t.

From across the room, a cough sounded. She turned to see an old man hacking away until he turned red in the face. He’d covered his mouth with his hand, but she wondered how many people in the ER would end up with the same ailment.

As she put away her cell, she spotted the folded paper Trevor had been carrying.

To God
, it said.

A growing rumble of guilt roared through her mind, rocking her to the core. If she hadn’t given the boy reason to expect a divine answer to his letter in the first place, he wouldn’t have been heading to the park tonight.

And he might have been home right now—safe in bed.

She wanted to shove the evidence of her wrongdoing back into her purse, as though she could avoid culpability. But because Trevor’s plea might provide a clue to Katie’s whereabouts or reveal what had provoked him to write a message that couldn’t wait until daylight, she slowly unfolded the paper.

As she did so, she realized he’d written on two sheets, both lined, with the left edges hastily ripped from a spiral notebook.

Reality slammed into Claire with such force, it took her breath away.

Trevor was Russell’s son.

She had no idea how long she’d sat like that, her stomach trying to right itself, her mind grappling to get a handle on the news. It seemed like forever that she clutched the pages of the note. Yet before she could actually come to grips with any of it or wrap her heart around the pain Russell and his family had suffered, the automatic ER doors swung open again, and a young woman rushed inside.

Her dark hair, most of which was contained by a ponytail, looked as though it hadn’t been combed in a while, and her expression suggested she’d been in a frantic rush to get to the hospital and hadn’t given her appearance any thought. She wore faded black jeans, a white T-shirt, and a brown vest with a name tag attached to the chest. Claire couldn’t read it from where she sat, but she didn’t need an introduction; she knew who’d just arrived.

As the woman scanned the waiting room, her eyes wide with fright, Claire noted only the slightest resemblance to the well-dressed, attractive young brunette who’d testified for Russell three years ago.

Still, without a doubt, Claire knew they were one and the same. So she stood and made her way toward Trevor’s guardian. “Katie?”

“Yes?” A wounded gaze latched onto Claire like an exhausted swimmer reaching for the only lifeboat in a stormy sea. “Where’s Trevor? What happened? A police officer told me he was badly hurt and then brought me here. He didn’t know very much.”

“Trevor suffered a serious head injury. He’s in surgery now.”

“But I don’t understand. He was in his room…” Katie took a step back, then swayed, reaching for a chair to steady herself. “Oh, God, I’ve been so sick…” She shook her head, as though trying to clear her scattered thoughts. “This can’t be happening. He was in bed for the night. We both were…”

A part of Claire wanted to comfort Katie, while another warned her to keep her distance.

“After dinner, I was dizzy and lay down for a minute to rest my eyes. The next thing I knew, the police officer was banging on my door.” Katie looked at Claire—
really looked
—and recognition dawned. Still, confusion played across her face. “What are
you
doing here? What do you have to do with any of this?”

“Actually, I met Trevor at the park a while back, but I had no idea who he really was until a few minutes ago.” Claire pointed to a chair in an empty corner of the waiting room. “Come over here and I’ll see if I can fill you in on what happened.”

When they’d each taken seats, Claire explained how she’d befriended Trevor, leaving out the part about the letters to God, of course.

“So you’re the ‘nice lady’ he met. Analisa’s babysitter.”

Claire nodded. “He’s a good kid. And I was drawn to him. He’s one of the park regulars.”

“I told Trevor he could go to the park for a little while each day, but I had no idea he was hanging out for hours at a time. In fact, I’d gone to look for him this afternoon to let him know I’d decided to go into work after all, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. After I got home tonight, I scolded him for disobeying, then sent him to his room as a punishment. That’s where he was
supposed
to be.” Katie’s brow furrowed, then tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, no. He must have run away…Did he call you? Is that why you’re here?”

“No, that’s not what happened.” Claire couldn’t even begin to explain how she ended up on Applewood, how an indefinable feeling sent her on an unplanned route. Nor did she feel comfortable telling Katie what Trevor had been planning to do. “I was driving to a friend’s house when I saw him lying at the side of the road. So I called an ambulance, came to the hospital, and waited until you could get here.”

“What happened? Was he hit by a car?”

“He was riding his skateboard and must have fallen and hit his head. I think he was on his way to the park.”

“In the dark?” Katie grimaced. “And what do you mean his
skateboard?
He doesn’t have one.”

“Yes, he does. I assumed you knew about it.”

“No. I didn’t. In fact, about a year ago, Trevor asked his father if he could have a bike and was told, ‘Absolutely not.’ Russ said that…” Katie paused, as though seeing the need to choose her words carefully. “Russ adores Trevor and is a real worrywart. Even more so after the accident. So he wouldn’t have approved of a skateboard, either.”

Claire hadn’t liked thinking of Russell as a father, as a man who’d been taken from his child and had to parent from a distance. She hadn’t wanted to identify with him at all. Yet now she was being forced to consider a lot of things she hadn’t been able to think about in the past.

“This is
my
fault,” Katie said.

“No, it’s not.”
Accidents happen
, Claire wanted to add, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“Russell asked me to look after Trevor, but I haven’t been able to supervise him as much as I should. I trusted him to follow my rules, but I guess that was too much to expect from a nine-year-old. I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses, but it’s tough enough to pay the rent and the utility bills without adding the cost of summer day camp to the budget.”

It was a Catch-22 in which too many single parents found themselves, Claire realized.

“At one time, I’d hoped I could stay home with him, that there’d be enough money so that I wouldn’t have to work, but…” Again, Katie paused. This time her words hung out like dirty laundry on the line.

Claire hadn’t needed to hear the rest, hadn’t wanted to. The civil suit must have broken Russell financially, although she wasn’t going to beat herself up about that now. And apparently Katie, who could have blamed Claire for at least some of her problems, wasn’t going to throw rocks about that at this point, either. Not when Trevor was fighting for his life.

As it was, grief and guilt had wormed their way into the stilted conversation, which she could understand. Yet a few false assumptions were coming to light, making things even more awkward.

The assistant district attorney had painted Katie, a onetime foster child with no family of her own, as a greedy young woman who’d roped herself a wealthy executive and who would lie to keep him out of jail. But Katie had taken on the job of raising Russell’s son, and even though whatever money and property he’d accrued over the years appeared to be gone, she’d stuck it out.

As if there weren’t enough ugly and discomfiting thoughts to deal with, regret reared its head and pointed a gnarly finger at Claire, who’d thought the worst of Trevor’s guardian and made assumptions she’d had no business making. She’d even gone so far as to report her suspicions to child protective services.

How did one go about backpedaling on a claim like that? She didn’t know, but she would make some calls first thing in the morning.

“Did they say how long the surgery would take?” Katie asked, drawing Claire from her self-incriminating thoughts.

“No. They didn’t.”

Katie’s shoulders slumped, and she exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “What am I going to tell Russell? He’ll be devastated if…” Again she glanced at Claire and clamped her lips, cutting off any further explanation.

“Come on.” Claire stood. “Let’s tell someone at the front desk that you’re here. Maybe there’s some news they can share with us.”

Claire led Katie to the ER receptionist. Moments later, a nurse’s aide escorted them both back to a special room where the family and friends of surgery patients waited.

They didn’t talk much; they were probably both caught up in their own thoughts and fears. Yet as grueling as it was to stay, Claire couldn’t bring herself to leave Katie alone. Nor could she deny her own sense of helplessness. Her own instinct to reach out to a God who’d seemed distant, uncaring, and silent for the past three years.