The Darkness of Shadows (5 page)

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re an asshat,” Val said.

“Language, Valerie.”

“Sorry, Mom, but it’s true.”

Mrs. G asked how I was.

“Okay.” My stomach hurt like hell, and a migraine was brewing behind my right eye. Oh, and I was endangering the only real family I had ever known. If I was any better, I’d have to be twins to contain my joy.

“When can I leave?”

Val snorted.

“What’s so funny? I feel fine. Where’s my cane? I want to go home.”

There was an eye dialogue going on between mother and daughter.

“You can’t even get a cup of water by yourself.
Mom
held you down yesterday.” Val shook her head. “Mom, for God’s sake!”

“Hey, she’s really strong.” Embarrassment brushed my cheeks. Someone who was close to a foot shorter and weighed a hundred pounds less than me had subdued me.

“Girls, that will be enough. We will ask the doctors and see,” Mrs. G said, always the voice of reason.

An awful silence descended, hindered only by the conversation between the medical machinery and the drifts of people in the hallway.

Mrs. G had her hands on her hips and a less-than-pleased look on her face. Looking formidable at five feet two and one-half inches wasn’t easy, but she pulled it off. Her words were seasoned with anger.

“Natalie, the more I think about this … You should have told me about your father. I am not happy.”

“Well then, if you aren’t Happy, which one are you?” I said.

Val snorted and tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself. She launched into a laughing fit. I could feel the corners of my mouth edge upward. Mrs. Guerrero’s eyes held the hint of a smile.

“You know I do not like short jokes.”

“Yes, ma’am. But come on, that was funny.”

She turned to Val, who was trying to compose herself.

“What are your thoughts on this?”

Val was wiping the tears from her eyes with a tissue, but she straightened as her mother spoke to her.

“Well, you could be Doc, or Sleepy or maybe even Grumpy. It’s up to you, Mom.”

My turn to snort. “Good one.”

“I thought so,” Val said.

The doctors said I should stay in the hospital for at least another three to four weeks. Yeah, right. I had places to disappear to, people to get rid of.

The police came in to take a statement about what happened at my apartment. I was about as much help to them as they were to me. I’d handle my father on my own terms.

After they left, I made some inquiries about when Nurse Helen, Mrs. Guerrero’s friend and my prison guard, would be taking a day off. It seemed that Nurse Helen didn’t take many days off, but she’d be taking a few hours this coming Wednesday morning. I could work with that. Val and her mom were always with me, so I needed to pull in a few favors to make this to happen. Mrs. Guerrero would be getting a phone call that she was needed in the office for some problem that only she could handle. Val would be getting a similar call. If I could manage that, I’d have about an hour to get the hell out of Dodge. This plan would make Lucy and Ethel proud.

I scored some scrubs without a problem. My shoes were blood-speckled but serviceable. I had a new cane (I didn’t want the one my father touched) at the ready. I borrowed some money from Val’s bag—I needed it for taxi fare. Don’t look at me in that tone of voice—I felt bad, but I was going to pay her back. Honest.

Wednesday rolled around and Nurse Helen had the morning off. Val called and said they’d be a little late—she and Mrs. G needed to take care of a few things. No problema, I told her, I wasn’t going anywhere.

I grabbed the quilt and my cane and started the great escape.

The three flights of stairs felt like a thousand as I opened the door and looked around the lobby for any unfriendlies.

Val and Mrs. Guerrero were signing in at the visitor’s desk.

Crap!
How long did it take me to get down those stupid stairs? I eased back into the stairwell, but left the door open a crack. They were waiting for the elevator, lost in easy conversation. Okay, I could still do this. All I needed was to get the hell out of here, get the stash of cash in my apartment, pack a bag, catch a train up north, and disappear. I’d worry about the rest of it when I got where I was going. Wherever that was.

It sounded better in my head.

The elevator doors slid open, Val and her mom disappeared behind them. The lobby was empty of anyone else I needed to worry about. I made my way to the front doors and my freedom. A few taxis were lined up, waiting at the curb. I got in the first one.

“Where to?” the driver said, not giving me a second look.

I gave him the address as we motored into a gorgeous late summer’s day. Fall was trying to edge its way in, but not having much luck. A smattering of color against the green canvas was all it could muster.

When we turned onto my street, I felt a sense of relief. My neighborhood would be deserted: the last two weeks of August were big vacation weeks and my neighbors all but disappeared for their pilgrimage to the Jersey shore. It’s something I never understood but, hey, whatever blows wind up your kilt. The driver pulled up in front of my home.

Let me correct that—he pulled up in front of the pile of rubble where my home used to be.

“You sure you want to get out here?” he said.

“I … uh … yes. How much do I owe you?” I hauled myself out of the taxi and stared at the disaster that was my life. The driver shook his head as he drove away.

What the hell happened? Fire? Explosion? A bomb? All my recipes, all the cool baking stuff I’d collected over the years, my cookbooks, my Ella Fitzgerald collection—all gone.

CRAP! I had no home, nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. I needed to sit down. There was a pile of bricks that would have to do. My truck kept watch as I sat with my cane and Mrs. Guerrero’s quilt and tried to make sense of it.

Something touched my shoulder.

I jumped out of my skin. It was just Val—at least it wasn’t Rufus, the dead/alive cat. Pain pinged through my stomach from the sudden movement. Her mom was getting out of the car, talking to someone on her cell phone. I didn’t hear them pull up—I guess I was lost in the insensibility of my thoughts.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you dumbass?” Val glared.
“We couldn’t find you at the hospital. We
thought
—”

“… thought my father finished what he started.” I turned away. “Wish it were that easy.”

“Stop talking like that!”

“You’ve saved my life twice. I can never pay you back for that. The only thing I could do was leave so you could be safe.” I lifted my cane and gestured to my nonexistent home. “Now I can’t even do that.”

“We can work through this together. Your father’s probably long gone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I said. “What happened? Are my neighbors all right?”

“They are fine. They had all left for their vacations when this happened,” Mrs. G said. “The doctors thought we should wait until you were stronger—they said the added stress would slow your recovery. The authorities said it was a gas explosion.”

Yeah, right. “My father blew up my home?”

“It is a possibility,” Mrs. Guerrero said.

“Mother fu—”

Mrs. Guerrero cleared her throat.

I scowled at Val, who was suddenly very interested in a pile of bricks and twisted metal.

“I’m not going back to the hospital.”

“I would very much like you to stay with me while you recover,” Mrs. Guerrero said. “I would enjoy the company.”

“Mom, I thought she could stay with me.”

“Stairs, dear. I have the room on the first floor.”

“Oh, right, I forgot,” Val said. My knee and stairs don’t get along too well.

Mrs. G put her hand on my shoulder.

“Besides, I have some vacation time I must use. It would work out perfectly.”

I knew better than to argue. I tried to get up, but my body rebelled.
Sonofabitch!
They grabbed me from either side so I wouldn’t grace the ground with my presence. Val steadied me while I got my bearings. Mrs. G handed me the cane and picked up the quilt. We started for the car.

“Why’d you have to park so far away?” I said.

“Wuss. Just lean on me.”

“All bets are off if you start singing.”

She started to hum “Lean on Me,” and grinned like an idiot while doing it.

“Hey,” Val said as she helped me into the backseat. “How’d you get here?”

“Took a taxi.”

“Where’d you get the money?”

I grinned. “I owe you $20.”

“Bitch!”

“You lied to me, you butthole!”

“Girls,” Mrs. Guerrero said.

I almost expected to hear the perennial favorite, “Don’t make me pull this car over.” Val hit me on the back of the head and stuck her tongue out at me before she closed the door and headed for the driver’s side.

“Um, ma’am?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Are you sure you want me to stay with you? Tina won’t—”

“This does not concern Augustina.”

End of conversation, end of story. We rode the rest of the way in silence.

“Come on, wake up. We’re home,” Val said.

“I don’t have a … Oh, your mom’s house.” Not much gets past me. I winced as she helped me out of the car and pointed me toward the kitchen door.

“You okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks for not taking me back to the hospital.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t try escaping earlier. I almost busted you out myself. Oh, by the way, you reek.”

“Bite me,” I said. “I’d love to take a shower though.”

“Come on. A few more steps and we’re home free.” She was supporting my entire body weight. She was strong and in great shape, but I’m no petite flower. “We’ll worry about the shower tomorrow.”

Next thing I knew I was in the guestroom off the kitchen, being tucked into a bed made of clouds. I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.

Mrs. G brushed the hair from my forehead, gave me a kiss, and said, “Love you.”

I blinked a few times, and that’s all I remember.

I
t was the first week of September. My stomach was healing nicely and I was getting around a lot better. I was parked at the kitchen table, watching Mrs. Guerrero pen a shopping list.

Once a month, Mrs. G and her epicurean friends took turns hosting dinners. They were all gourmet cooks and competitive to the max. I think there was even a sommelier among them. She was going to cancel, but I insisted she go to the soiree.

“Judy did ask if I could come early to help,” Mrs. G said as she reviewed her list, “but I am not comfortable leaving you alone.”

“I’m feeling fine.”

She made a few notations.

“Ma’am, may I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“My father was looking for something—some pages. Do you remember anything of value he may have left?”

Mrs. G handled all the legal stuff after the debacle with my parents. To my knowledge, the only things they left behind were a house and a lot of bad memories.

She shook her head. “I do not think so. Did he say what these pages were from?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I will go through the paperwork to make sure.”

I’d debated telling her this next bit, but curiosity won out. “He also said something kind of weird about you.”