The Cinderella Hour (19 page)

“Eileen’s drowning.”

Wendy’s cry wasn’t the kind that usually accompanied her
awakening.

Thomas tried to be within a step of her whenever she opened
her eyes, an instant away from comforting her. Since her
Where’s Daddy?
on Sunday afternoon, he had been.

He wasn’t an expert at anticipating when she would wake up
from her frequent naps. He merely sat beside her every time she napped, and at
night, when she slept, he slept on the floor.

Since Sunday, he had reached her before she cried out, in the
moments while she was struggling to make sense of where she was.

“Hello, Wendy,” he would whisper. “You’re safe, sweetheart.
Everything’s fine. I’m Thomas. Remember? I’m here and Eileen’s here. And Mommy
and Daddy are in heaven, smiling at you, and loving you.”

She would nod, and then wait to hear the other words that
were creating the foundation of her new world: Thomas’s friendship with Mommy
and Daddy; how excited they had been about having her; how Thomas had been
there when she was born . . . and had visited her when she was so tiny her hand
could barely curl around his finger.

She was making progress.
They
were.

On this Tuesday afternoon, they had been in the living room,
she coloring, he admiring her efforts, when she put down her crayon and left
without a word.

Such a silent departure wasn’t new. The last time, she had gone
to her bedroom to get the coloring book. The time before that, to take a nap.

And the time before that, she changed from her nightgown and
robe into a T-shirt and jeans.

Thomas waited until she was out of sight before walking to
the hallway to await her return—or, if a prolonged absence suggested she had crawled
into bed, to position himself at her bedside once she fell asleep.

She wasn’t gone long.

When she appeared, her mission was clear.

To find him.

“Eileen’s drowning.”

It wasn’t even a cry. It was a statement of fact spoken by a
girl for whom drowning and dying were synonymous—and meant the floating to
heaven of a loved one.

“Drowning, Wendy?”

She nodded.

And reached for the index finger of his right hand.

Squeezing hard, she led the way.

“You have to understand, Luke. I
did it for
you.
”

It
had been revealed. Every detail. Every word. Vivian had carefully planned her
encounter with Snow. Even the choice of driving to Meadow View Drive, where
Luke had escaped a horrible future once before, was calculated in advance.

Luke had been silent as Vivian revealed her shameful behavior
on that January morning. Silent and motionless. At least Vivian, whose gaze was
fixated on her briefcase, hadn’t heard him move.

She had finished telling him how the rendezvous ended—Snow
refusing the money, Vivian speeding away—but she wasn’t through pleading her
case.

“You had come so far,” she implored. “Your future was very bright.
I couldn’t bear the thought of you throwing it away. I cared about you.
So much.
If Snow loved you, she would have felt the same way I did. She would have wanted
what was best for you and known that becoming a father and husband was the
worst thing you could do.”

“Get out.”

Vivian had hoped he’d moved closer as she confessed. And that
he would understand and forgive. His voice made it sound as though he’d moved
farther away—impossible as that was.

Luke hadn’t moved.

But he was farther away.

“Please, Luke.
Please
forgive me. When I saw how
devastated you were, I tried to find her for you. I hired the best private
investigators money could buy. They searched for Snow—and Leigh—for two full
years. Neither of them could be found. They didn’t
want
to be found, the
investigators said. At some point, Snow came out of hiding. I guess I should
have kept searching. But you could have searched for her, too. You could have found
her, years ago, when she was ready to be found.”

“What makes you think I didn’t find her?”

“You would have already known what I told you today.”

“And I would have tracked you down just to tell you how angry
I was? Don’t flatter yourself, Vivian. I wouldn’t have wasted even a second of
my life—or Snow’s life—looking for you. You’re not worth it.”

“Don’t say that!”

“You told Snow I didn’t want my baby.”

“I . . . implied that. I never said you wanted her to have an
abortion.”

“But that is what you wanted.”

“
No
. I suggested adoption to her, that was all.”

“You got your wish, didn’t you? Whatever Vivian wants, Vivian
gets. After listening to your lies, Snow lost the baby.”

“I didn’t want her to miscarry, Luke. You
have
to
believe that.”

“No, I don’t. And I never will. She was upset by what you
told her. Devastated. You left her distraught and standing in the cold. You
knew what was going to happen, what you
hoped
would happen. You’re
responsible for Snow’s miscarriage, Vivian. You made her lose her baby.”
Our
baby. Our Wendy.

“No,
please
. That
wasn’t
what I was hoping for.
I would
never
hope for something that cruel. I just wanted Snow and the
baby to go away. I cared so much about you.”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

“I’m
not
. How can you say there never was an
us?
That summer—”

“We had sex.”

“It was more than that!”

“Not for me.”

“You
listened
to me, Luke. You cared how unhappy I
was, how pressured I felt to be perfect.”

“The only thing you had to say that was the least bit
interesting to me was what time you wanted to get together to have sex. Now get
out of here.”

“You don’t understand!”

“No, Vivian.
You
don’t. You do not want to be in this
room with me.”

“I
loved
you. I still—”

“Don’t you dare say it. If you don’t leave, I will.”

His expression warned her not to follow. If Luke Kilcannon
never again laid eyes on Vivian Larken Prescott, it would be far too soon.

Bea was right, Mira thought as she
parallel-parked on a side street near the fire station. On all counts. She
needed to tell Luke today, and although he would be annoyed, their friendship
would remain intact.

She and Luke were friends. Bea was right about that as well.
So he had neglected to mention a relevant item or two. So what? Relevance was
in the eye of the beholder. Just because she viewed his past relationship with
Vivian as relevant didn’t make it so.

Mira’s friend was standing outside, apparently enjoying the
low heat of the autumn sun and the invigorating crispness of the breeze.

Luke stood at the very edge of the fire-station grounds, the
outer limits of where he could make it to the truck without delay. He was
staring toward some invisible horizon.

Mira sensed yearning, a restlessness at being confined. Luke
was at work, doing the job he loved. Still, on this November afternoon, it felt
as if he was straining to be elsewhere.

“Hey, stranger.”

Her voice startled the man who wasn’t easily startled. When
he turned, the notion that he had been enjoying any aspect of the glorious
autumn day was dashed.

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t want to know.”
And I’m never going to tell you.
Mira wanted a relationship with her sister more than she cared to admit—or
maybe even realized. Her unworthy sister . . . but her sister nonetheless.

“Yes, I do. Starting with what you were thinking when I said
hello.”

That
he could do. “I was thinking about perjuring myself in family court. It would
be pretty easy. I’d just have to say that at the last moment of his life,
Daniel Hart changed his mind about leaving his daughter to Thomas Vail.”

Thomas? A daughter? “What are you talking about?”

“There’s a little girl. Her name is Wendy. She lost her
father in the floods on Saturday afternoon.”

“I saw the photograph in the paper. Thomas is her legal
guardian?”

“Not legal. Not yet. My eyewitness account could prevent it
from ever happening.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because maybe Thomas isn’t the right choice to be Wendy’s
father.”

“Do you know him?”

“No. But he comes highly recommended by someone whose opinion
I neither value nor trust.”

“And that’s Thomas’s fault? Or Wendy’s? Luke, what’s going
on?”

“Nothing, Mira. Forget it. This isn’t a good time for us to
talk.”

“I disagree. This is what friendship’s all about. You need to
talk. I want to listen.”

“I don’t need to talk, Mira. Not now. Okay?”

As upset as he was, it was a polite request. Under any other
circumstance, she would have immediately honored it, without another word. But this
wasn’t any other circumstance.

“The problem is, Luke, there’s something
I
need to
tell
you
. It won’t take long. I promise. Then I’ll leave you alone. But
I have to say it. I know you’ll be seeing Snow tonight. I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you. So do I.”

“She may have been told by a hospital fundraiser that I’ve
offered to make a donation in exchange for a private meeting with her.”

“Why?”

“Well, I had this plan to make sure she understood just how
deeply she had hurt a very dear friend of mine.”

“You had no right to do that.”

“I won’t quibble with you, Luke. Although friendship does
confer certain—”

“That’s not friendship, Mira. It’s betrayal.”

“I would
never
betray you!”

“Sounds like you already did.”

“
No
. Snow has no idea what I originally planned. When
she calls, I’m going to tell her that Bea, who—as you recall—knew Snow years
ago, and I would like to take her to lunch. Nothing whatsoever to do with you.”

“I don’t want you seeing her.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t want you seeing Snow.”

“Because I’m such a horrible person? Because I’ll taint her
by my very presence? I can’t believe—”

“Stay out of her life, Mira. I mean it. Snow’s life. And
mine.”

“It can’t have been as bad as you look.”

“However awful I look, Bea, it was worse.”

“You don’t look awful, Mira. Just terribly sad.”

“Well, at least that’s truth in advertising. That’s exactly how
I feel.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m also sure it will be all right. Luke’s
just anxious about seeing Snow. Once that’s behind him . . .”

Mira shook her head. “I don’t think so. This was personal.
Luke and me. I really misjudged what we had. We were acquaintances at best. Not
friends. So. Onward. Any calls?”

“Not a one. Why don’t we close for the day? It’s almost
three. I’ll forward the phone to the after-hours recording and you can spend
the rest of the afternoon soaking in a bubble bath.”

“That’s not going to happen. I might go for a ten-mile run,
preferably in circles around the fire station yelling unpleasant things about
Luke.”

“Fine. Followed by a soothing bubble bath.”

“I do need soothing. I’m ready to have my calm, predictable
life back. The one in which I feel at least a semblance of control. Beginning
with the obscene phone calls, there’ve been a series of unwanted intrusions,
none of which I’ve handled well. If only I’d flipped through the auction
brochure and mentioned to Luke that Snow was coming home. But no-o-o,” she
muttered, “I had to spring into misguided action, which led to the Harvest Moon
Ball and other unexpected situations for me to react to badly.”

“I’m sensing an unexpected situation you haven’t told me
about.”

“Thomas.”

“Thomas? As in wedding reception fireworks?”

“As in wedding reception delusion. Yes, that Thomas. I saw
him, from a distance, at the ball.”

“And?”

“What else? I handled it miserably. He smiled at me,
mistaking me for Vivian no doubt. I smiled, and fled.”

“And?”

“I eventually circled back. But he was gone. End of story—until
Luke mentioned him today. Thomas is the guardian for the little girl Luke
rescued Saturday afternoon. I must have seen him just moments before he got the
news. In a weird way, that makes my choice to scurry away even
more
wrong. Maybe he could have used my help.” Mira sighed. “You know what I need,
Bea? You were right—a long soak in a bubble bath, followed by a long night’s
sleep. I haven’t been sleeping well. By tomorrow morning, Luke will have seen
Snow and—oh.”

“You’re remembering tonight’s ‘I thought it would be fun to
listen to Blaine’s interview together’ surprise visit to Vivian?”

“That’s bound to be as well received as my dropping in on
Luke.”

“But you told Blaine you would do it.”

“I did. And I will.”

“And
that
,” Bea predicted as Mira moved to answer the
suddenly ringing clinic phone, “will be Luke.”

“No, Bea. It won’t.” Mira lifted the receiver. “Pinewood
Veterinary Clinic. How may I help you?”

“Mira?”

“Yes.”

“This is Thomas Vail. I’m not sure if you remember me. We met
at Vivian’s wedding.”

“Of course I remember you, Thomas.” Mira shot an amazed glance
at Bea.

“Thank you. I need your help. I have a lovely little friend
staying with me. Her name is Wendy. And her friend, a lovely little kitten
named Eileen, is sick.”

“Both lovely little friends are right there?” Mira guessed. “Listening
to every word?”

“They are.”

“How sick is the kitten?”

“She needs to be seen. She has pneumonia, I think. I’m
wondering if we could drive up and have you take a look?”

“Absolutely. I’m in Pinewood, in Quail Ridge, on Meadow View Drive.”

“I have the address. We’ll leave as soon as I can get
everyone into the car.”

“Is that going to be difficult, Thomas? I’m aware of the
ordeal that Wendy’s been through.”

“A little difficult, maybe. But we’ll be fine. I’m afraid I
can’t tell you when we’ll be there. We may run into traffic driving north.”

“Where are you?”

“The Wind Chimes Towers. I think it’s safe for the kitten to
make the longer drive. There are vets in the city. But you’re the one I know.
Although if you’d prefer to recommend someone else—”

“I wouldn’t. What I
would
prefer, though, is for me to
come to you. I’m done for the day and going southbound should be easy. I can
get to you more quickly than you can get to me, and there’s no sense in further
stressing either Wendy or Eileen.”

“That would be great, Mira.”

“I’ll gather a few supplies and be on my way.”

The southbound drive was easy, and
the Towers doorman was expecting her. After escorting her to the correct
elevator, he notified Thomas that she would be arriving soon.

Thomas was waiting in the hallway outside his condo.

“Hi.” Mira met the intense blue eyes. They were worried eyes,
a father’s eyes. But as they smiled for her, every astonishing wedding-reception
feeling rushed to life.

More astonishing was the impression that Thomas was
experiencing similar feelings. He looked as stunned as she felt. As stunned,
she realized now, as he had looked at the wedding reception . . . as if, even
then, he had felt it, too.

Whatever
it
was.

“Hi,” he said at last. “Thank you for coming.” He gestured
toward the condo’s open door. “They’re in Wendy’s bedroom.”

En route to Mira’s patient, Dr. Larken and Dr. Vail reviewed
the kitten’s history.

“She was fine this morning. Hungry and playful. It didn’t
occur to me to worry when she didn’t wake up with Wendy following their
after-lunch nap. But it must have worried Wendy. When she went back to check on
her, she found the kitten the way she is now. The change is dramatic. I should
have seen it coming.”

“I don’t know how, Thomas. Kittens can go from lively to
moribund in minutes and without warning. You said you think she has pneumonia?”

“That’s my best guess. When I listened with my stethoscope, I
thought I heard rales. But I readily admit it’s just as possible I was hearing
the rustling of fur. I couldn’t elicit any pain on palpation, but she’s so
lethargic she might not have responded. Her eyes are glassy and there’s a white
membrane that’s new.”

“The third eyelid. It appears when they’re sick.”

When they reached Wendy’s bedroom, Thomas paused to let Mira
enter first.

Wendy sat on the bed, whispering reassurances to the kitten
in her lap. She looked to Thomas as he and Mira approached.

“This is Mira, Wendy. The kitten doctor I told you about.”

“Hello, Wendy.”

Wendy’s reply was nonverbal, an expression more resigned than
hopeful, a little girl already wise to the unexpected sadnesses of life.

Mira sat beside Wendy. She had left her white coat in Quail
Ridge, but carried her black bag and a sack of supplies.

“Hello, Eileen.” Mira examined the kitten visually as she
spoke. Her increased respiratory rate suggested that Thomas’s diagnosis was
correct. “May I touch her, Wendy?”

Only when Wendy nodded did Mira begin the exam. She talked to
both kitten and girl. “Let’s see how Eileen’s ears look. Good. Good. And her
mouth. It’s okay, sweetie, just a little peek. There. That’s good, too. And Eileen’s
tummy is very soft, isn’t it? Yes. Very. The way we want it to be. And nothing
hurts, either, on her legs or paws.”

Mira stopped speaking as she listened to Eileen’s heart and
chest. She held the kitten then, gauging her weight, feeling her fever.

“She has a lung infection,” Mira explained to Wendy. “Pneumonia,
just like Thomas told me on the phone. We can treat it. I have the medication
right here.”

Mira withdrew a small glass vial from the sack.

“Will you give it IV?” Thomas asked.

“No. IM. I’ll want to give her fluids, too. She’s dry. Like
all sick babies, kittens dehydrate quickly. I’ll administer the fluids by
clysis—subQ. I wonder if you and Wendy should wait in the living room?”

Wendy, who had been listening intently, had an immediate
reply. One small hand covered Eileen. The other reached for Thomas.

“Mira’s going to have to use needles, Wendy, to give Eileen
the medicines she needs.”

“The needles won’t hurt her,” Mira said. “I won’t hurt her.
But it’s often harder to watch a friend getting a shot than getting one
yourself.”

“Eileen wants me to stay.”

Mira glanced to Thomas, who nodded.

Mira had given intramuscular injections countless times. The
antibiotic Eileen needed wouldn’t burn her muscles, and the needle itself would
cause negligible discomfort. What she told Wendy was true. It wouldn’t hurt.
Shouldn’t. But there could be fear, a frantic wriggling.

Mira gave the antibiotic first. Eileen didn’t move a whisker.

“What a good girl you are. This is going to make you feel
much better. The fluids will, too. The infusion’s given between the shoulder
blades,” Mira explained as she attached plastic tubing first to a capped
sterile needle, then into a fluid-filled bag. “Lots of subcutaneous space, very
few nerve endings.”

“How long does the infusion last?” Thomas asked.

“For Eileen, depending on the flow we get, five minutes,
maybe less. She’s a tiny girl. A little fluid will go a long way. I need an IV
pole.” She looked up at Thomas. “You’ll do.”

Thomas held the bag shoulder-high as Mira created a tent of
fur before inserting the needle into the scruff of Eileen’s neck. Wendy’s hand
lay on Eileen’s back, as it had—without moving—when Mira gave the antibiotic.
With any other four-year-old, Mira would have long since insisted the small
hand was far away.

But she believed Wendy understood the necessity of what she
was doing. It was Wendy’s comforting hand, perhaps, that enabled Eileen to
accept the needles without the slightest fear.

As the fluid flowed where it was supposed to, Dr. Larken felt
the adrenaline-fueled euphoria that patients typically experienced after
sailing through a procedure.

“You can be my veterinary assistant anytime,” she said to Wendy.
To the blue-eyed IV pole, she added, “You, too.”

A couple of minutes later, she removed the needle and placed
pressure on the spot where it had been.

“That’s all she needs for now. We should let her sleep while
the medication goes to work.”

Wendy released Thomas’s hand. Then, lying on the bed, she
drew Eileen close to her chest. Thomas placed a blanket over what would soon
become a sleeping kitten and a sleeping girl.

“We’ll be in the living room, sweetheart. Not far, if you and
Eileen need us.”