Since You've Been Gone (37 page)

“Perfectly fine.”

“You look a bit tired to me. Clay, do you think he looks tired?”

“Rebecca can tell you the hospital is the last place to get a good night's sleep,” Clay said easily. “And he had a roommate who mumbled and moaned all night.”

“A roommate!” Suzanne exclaimed. “Why didn't you let him have a private room?”

Clay grinned. “I remembered when I was seventeen and he gave me the devil for taking his Porsche for a joyride. It was payback.”

“It was nothing of the sort.” Frank laughed. “Suzanne, dear, I'm capable of answering for myself. First of all, if I was going to buy a car like a Porsche, I should have expected hijinks from teenagers like Doug and Clay. But as for the room, I requested a double. I wanted to know another living being was in there with me throughout the night. I know it was silly, but fear does strange things to the mind.”

“Were you scared?” Suzanne asked innocently. It was a
child's question and Rebecca felt a twinge of embarrassment.

“Well, I did think I was having a heart attack,” Frank said smoothly. “But I don't want to hear another word about that tonight. I'm just glad to be home. And look who's agreed to come with me. Suzanne, you haven't said one word to Dr. Bellamy.”

She flushed. “I'm sorry. We're so pleased you could come to dinner.”

“I'm pleased to be invited.”

“And you look so grown up!” Rebecca closed her eyes briefly, fearing what would come next. And it did. “Last time I saw you, you had your hair cut in those awful spikes like on the music videos.”

“To annoy my father.”

Suzanne looked perplexed. “Why do children always want to annoy their parents?”

“Because their parents annoy them,” Frank supplied, smiling.

“Well, you certainly look clean-cut and handsome now.”

“Thank you. And you look beautiful tonight, Mrs. Hardison.”

“Oh, you are just as charming as ever!” Suzanne beamed all around. She was so happy tonight with her looks and her new resolve to make Frank a good wife that all old resentments seemed to have vanished. So Rebecca knew absolutely she was not being malicious when the awful words bubbled from her perfect, cherry-colored lips; “Rebecca, didn't I always say Clayton Bellamy was a doll?” Suzanne looked archly at Clay. “Not as if I had to convince
her.
Our poor little Rebecca just suffered with her crush on you, didn't you, dear? Worst case of lovesickness I've ever seen.”

Clay raised an eyebrow at Rebecca, his lips twitching. Rebecca thought if any more blood rushed to her face she'd turn blue and pass out. For once even Frank looked flummoxed. It was Sean who saved the day, bounding in and jumping up on Clay the way he always did Rebecca, wrapping his front legs around Clay's waist.

“Well, what's this?” Frank nearly exploded, trying to cover the dreadful moment. “Our Sean is enraptured by a
man?”

“I think it might be the scent of my dog, sir,” Clay said. “Her name is Gypsy and I think she's quite the femme fatale.”

Frank laughed. “I'm Frank, not sir, and I'm sure your Gypsy is lovely.” He turned to Suzanne. “Something smells very good.”

“Betty is fixing a special dinner for you. Italian food—your favorite. But nothing too high in cholesterol.”

“Actually Mr. Hardison's—Frank's—cholesterol is perfect,” Clay said. “No worries there.”

“Oh, that's wonderful. Even more reason for having a little party. I hope you don't mind, Frank, but we're having guests. I talked Esther into bringing Molly.”

“It'll be good for Molly to get out,” Frank said.

Suzanne's smile inched down a notch. “There's one off note, though. I invited Douglas, which is fine, but I'm sure he'll bring Lynn.”

Rebecca's gaze met Clay's. He seemed to be thinking the same thing she was: Oh no. Doug would be polite but no one could predict what Lynn might do. She hated Rebecca.

Frank continued smiling. “We'll make the best of Lynn. Maybe since she thinks I'm dying, she'll be nice.”

“Oh Frank, don't even joke about such a thing! Honestly!” Suzanne rebuked with a smile. She's giving it her all, Rebecca thought in admiration. Frank couldn't help but be impressed.

Still, she had to say a word to her mother before Molly arrived. “Mother,” she whispered as the men moved into the living room.

“Yes, dear,” Suzanne trilled. “Isn't this fun? Clay is
so
cute. And a doctor. This is so exciting.”

“Mother, he's just here for dinner. He brought Frank. There's nothing serious—” She broke off, trying to get back to her point. “Mother, I know you're glad to see Frank
and relieved he's all right. And you look lovely—ebullient—but we have to remember that Todd is still gone. We must be sensitive to Molly's feelings. Maybe when she comes, you should act a little less, well—”

“Merry,” Suzanne said flatly. “What on earth was I thinking? I wasn't thinking, as usual. You're right. We'll try to keep things upbeat, but not jolly. That's entirely the wrong note to strike for Molly. Or any of us. Thank you for the advice, dear.”

Rebecca's lips parted in surprise as her mother walked into the living room to join her guests. She'd expected Suzanne to be defensive, but once again she'd astounded Rebecca. “Thank God,” Rebecca breathed. “Please let this evening go well.”

She had her doubts about her prayer being answered when Doug and Lynn arrived ten minutes later. Rebecca ushered them in. Doug's greeting to her was overly hearty. Lynn snapped, “Hello,” and tried to freeze Rebecca with her eyes. Rebecca managed a bland smile and complimented Lynn on her earrings. She saw with satisfaction the compliment enraged Lynn. Smirking to herself, Rebecca trailed after them into the living room.

Doug hugged his father stiffly. In the old days there had been so much trouble between them. Rebecca could still remember the shouting coming from Frank's study, the nights he'd stormed from the house to bail Doug out of jail for some infraction, the tumultuous return home and Suzanne's persistent wail, “Douglas,
why
can't you be more like Jonnie?” Those had been awful days, but in spite of Doug's rebelliousness and the trouble he caused, Rebecca had felt sorry for him. He'd been miserable in this house. He hadn't belonged. What he hadn't seemed to realize in that unhappy past was that she hadn't belonged either.

Everyone now swore the past was buried. Rebecca was not a great believer in pasts ever being buried. She thought people were largely the product of their environments, their presents and futures molded by the lives they'd already led. Worst of all, she felt that unfortunate pasts had a way of
bubbling, hidden, for years before they burst forth like geysers, refusing to stay quiet. Not a pleasant scenario.

Rebecca had felt the evening should be alcohol-free, but Suzanne insisted this would make everyone more conscious of her effort at sobriety and embarrass her. Frank was offering drinks in the living room when Molly and Esther arrived five minutes later. Esther was smiling brightly, but Molly's smile was forced, a strained slit in a tight and pale face. Her eyes were bloodshot and heavy-lidded. She hadn't been sleeping. She wore slacks and a blouse that was buttoned unevenly.

“I'm so glad to see both of you,” Rebecca said warmly. “Frank has been home for about half an hour. Clay Bellamy is here with him. And so are Doug and Lynn.”

Esther maintained her smile although at the mention of Lynn Molly's disappeared. “Oh dear, she'll cause trouble. She doesn't like us, Becky.”

“We will ignore her,” Rebecca said blithely. “Two against one.”

“But I don't feel like having a fight with her tonight.”

“There won't be a fight,” Rebecca reassured her. “Aunt Esther won't allow it, will you? She's a former teacher. She knows how to break up childish arguments.”

“I certainly do,” Esther said, stepping in and removing a scarf from her fluffy hair. She wore a simple blue dress and her ever-present cross necklace. Rebecca thought of the inverted cross on Jonnie's plaque and shivered. “I can put Little Miss Lynn in her place if I have to, so don't you worry, Molly.”

“I don't intend to be put in my place.”

Everyone turned to see Lynn lounging in the door holding a glass of wine. “Ganging up on me already before I've said one word?”

“Building our defenses on the basis of
past
words,” Rebecca said easily. “I think we could all use a glass of wine.”

“Doug doesn't want me to have any. I usually don't drink anymore, but I figure family gatherings certainly warrant at least one glass of wine.”

“On that I agree with you,” Rebecca said, herding Esther and Molly past the cool-eyed Lynn. “Molly, have a drink and try to relax for a few hours.”

Molly turned a pinched, anxious face toward her. “Rebecca, you haven't—”

“No, I haven't had any visions,” she said gently. “Maybe relaxing, clearing my head will help. Tonight could help me to concentrate …” She trailed off, feeling duplicitous. Concentration didn't help call forth visions that had a mind of their own. But Molly was deeply uncomfortable in this situation. She had to get her through it. Thinking she was helping Todd would help Molly.

Sean had curled into a corner, either trying to be a gentleman or trying to make himself invisible so he wouldn't have to leave the festivities. Frank was expansive, amiable, and Suzanne was fluttering around being the perfect hostess, casting Frank flirtatious smiles and loving looks. He seemed slightly at sea with her attitude. Clay and Doug talked quietly. Or rather Doug talked. Clay nodded, clearly deciding it was best to let Doug pick which topics were acceptable. Lynn floated around the room looking both resentful and preoccupied. Rebecca wondered how she felt about Matilda Vinson's death. She knew Lynn hadn't liked the woman, but certainly she felt
something.
Did she plan to attend the funeral?

Esther stayed close to Molly. No one talked about Todd. Suzanne told Molly she liked her hair longer and Molly smiled slightly. Esther drank mineral water while Molly took Rebecca's suggestion and had wine. But Rebecca noticed she was sipping too often, probably from nerves, and a subtle way would have to be found to slow her down. Well, stopping too diligent a drinker was a familiar task in this house, Rebecca thought. Frank and Betty must be masters.

Molly was in the midst of asking for a third glass of wine when Betty announced dinner, to Rebecca's relief. They all trooped into the dining room, where the best china, crystal, and silver glowed in the candlelight. Rebecca noticed
Sean slipping unobtrusively into the kitchen, where he would take up his accustomed place under the table at Walt's feet.

Fifteen minutes later they dined on light veal ragù with tomato. Frank seemed to be enjoying his meal but was rather quiet. Lynn ate sullenly and mechanically. Molly put food in her mouth with a distracted air. Clay, Doug, Suzanne, and Esther led the conversation, for which Rebecca was grateful because she felt a dull headache forming beside her right eye. She also felt a vague sense of uneasiness, nothing caused by events happening at the table, which made her feel more uneasy. The feeling usually preceded a vision. Perhaps that was good if it meant she'd learn more about Todd.

“Rebecca, your bangle bracelets almost completely hide your bandages,” Lynn piped up, then slipped a bite of oven-roasted potato into her mouth. “Did the guy really slit your wrists?” Doug glared at her but she didn't look at him.

“He cut them a little,” Rebecca returned casually. “Nothing serious.”

“I wonder why he did it?”

“I don't think any of us wants to understand the mind of someone like that person and I don't want to talk about him. I'm sure no one else does, either,” Esther said repressively. “Lynn, what plans do you have for your new store? Do you have plenty of inventory to fill your shelves?”

Lynn had been pouting because no one was paying attention to her. Esther's ploy was perfect. Lynn came to life, talking animatedly about her latest ceramic pieces and how she planned to set up the interior of the store. Doug's face relaxed. Molly took another slug of wine in what seemed relief. Clay winked at Rebecca. Suzanne reached over and lightly touched Frank's hand.

By the time Betty delivered dessert—almond meringues—Rebecca's headache had intensified. Frank had left the table twice to go to the bathroom, assuring everyone in a self-deprecating way that he was fine except for a build-up of fluids due to all those “cursed IVs” he'd received
at the hospital. So when Rebecca excused herself, no one seemed to notice.

She bypassed the downstairs hall bathroom and rushed up to her room. In her own bathroom she held a washcloth under cold water, wrung it out, and lay down on her bed, placing the cold cloth on her forehead. A moment later she rose, turned on the radio component of her clock, and lay down again. No music now. Just a weather report. Fair and warm tomorrow with a high of—The vision hit her like a blow. She grimaced with the pain, pulling herself into a tight ball. Her lovely room disappeared, along with the voice of the weatherman on the radio. Even with her eyes open, it was dark. Rebecca was lost in the vision.

Something cried pitifully not far away, a sound that had become painfully familiar. His mind felt foggy. His head hurt. His throat hurt. He was hot, but he couldn't stop shivering. And within the last couple of hours, he'd developed a pain in his right side, slightly below his waist. It wasn't too bad, but it was constant, like it was saying, “I'm here. I'm here.” He was too tired to try to stand up anymore or work on the bonds that held his hands and feet and covered his eyes and his mouth. He felt almost too yucky to be scared. Almost.

He was hungry and desperately thirsty. The Dark Warrior hadn't come around for ages. Was he just going to be left here? Was he just going to die here in the dark? Someday would somebody find his bones and say, “Gee, I wonder who this was? Oh well, it's just bones. It doesn't matter”? And no one would know the bones had belonged to Todd Jonathan Ryan, who was a great swimmer and had goldfish and meant everything to his mother.